Zombie Dodge Ball

The Commander has been working on our map system (seen in photo) and working to add more pill boxes (look out towers that are defensible positions) along the perimeter.  We heard that New Portland was attacked but it appears to be a badly strung together mob desperate for food and not the civil war brutality rumored on Ruffle Net. 

My own work has been simple: RUN. 

The weather most days have been fair with about 45 degrees our average temperature.  Some days it's windy.  When it rains it generally lets up for an hour or two, which I believe, is dictated by the tides.  The tides have a lot to do with the wind and cloud activity this close to the ocean. 

I run out to the Quarantine zone but generally stay off the sand dunes.  Okay it's silly I just don't like sand in my shoes and I see the ocean plenty (and last time I was stuck between wild dogs and zombs).

I cut off all my hair.  It was coming in grey and there is no more hair dye.  It's a salt/pepper mix and not bad looking - except I still look rather young in the face because of my large eyes so it's a strange look I suppose all in all.  It's a snap after a shower and if I have to go back out on a run it dries quickly and I don't freeze off my rumpus.

Oddly enough the ladies at the camp kinda sniffed and said, "My husband would never let me cut my hair."  None of them are grey either, even people older than me.  I just hit it early I guess.  The Commander said it looked cute.  He didn't seem to mind the grey. 

He has been later and later to bed and our tv watching is sometimes curtailed for days.  He's worried.  General Grant is thinking of leaving altogether along with many runners and going to Portland.  That will leave the Commander almost back to square one again.  With people gone how will we defend Fort Stevens?  How will we have enough people to plant and produce everything our fort needs?  Will we all end up leaving?  And there is the cruxt.

The Commander is thinking about leaving. 

All the stress day after day and thankless tasks - but he has friends in Seattle and he could be a part of a real militia that is organized with trained soldiers and has fortifications that aren't all made of tin and scrap pieces of old junk.  Seattle he tells me is quite well put together.  If he goes he wants me to come too.

I don't know.

Fort Stevens is my home.  Where would I even run in a place like Seattle?  They probably have motor bikes and that sort of thing....I wonder if it snows there....it never ever snows here. 

Goodnight Fort - Runner 5

The Rain Comes Down

It was 4:30am -- "Commander, are you awake?"  I whispered.  He growled in response.  "I don't feel good" I, Runner 5, whispered.  He wearily blinked open his eyes and looked over and scratched his beard. 

"Anxiety again 5?" He whispered.   I nodded with worry and panic.  "Dreams back?"  He asked I nodded feeling stupidly vulnerable. 

He grabbed the edge of my cot and pulled it over to his and in one motion scooped me over to his cot and cushioned me under an arm. 

"Deep breaths" he said.  I tried my hardest to breath deeply but my heart was in flight or fight mode and I felt like I was dying. 

"Deep breaths"  he said again, himself almost nodding off.  I nestled my head in the crook of his shoulder and he took my hand in his. 

"Think of something funny"  he said.  Like last week at the lunch line when we ran out right as it was Edwards turn and he had dry rations.  Edward was the largest among us and the biggest eater.  I giggle softly.

"That's better" he said, "you have training in the morning you need some sleep."  He said.

"I can't sleep" I stated, I "I just can't."  

But he did retty soon and patted my hair on and off although I think it was in his sleep until morning revelry sounded and it was time to get up.

"Five it was just that run, it did you in, messed with your head.  You'll be better."

"I don't knowCommander, it has been five days now and I'm still having problems"

"You need to be running again.  You've had too much time off.  Not good for someone like you."

"Commander," I said in a little voice as he geared up for the day.  "I never said anything but I'm bipolar and I have a severe anxiety disorder.  It comes and goes and in the winter I get really sick sometimes.  Not always.  Sometimes I do well for years -- but inevitably."

"I know 5.  It's okay.  Everyone's got something."   There it was my worst darkest secret I was afraid he would find out.  "What can I do to help?" He said.  I never had anyone ask me if they could help before.  I expected everyone to be scared of me or think I was a freak.

"I just need some meds - but it won't stop 'this' you know - but it might help it from getting worse.  They're not a cure, it's just management.  I wish they helped more, but they don't."  He nodded.

"Get on that then 5, and I know you're tired, you never did sleep did you?  But go train.  Give me a solid hour putting in miles in the gym today.  Give your anxiety a place to go, got it?"  I nodded getting up.

I got up and before he left he pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead and I knew I would love him forever.  

Battle to the Pacific 10k Run Nov. 2nd 2013

Lyman Mishler bunker - pictured above, runs far underground, nestling a catacomb of old offices under the hill.  The electricity to it has been out and there are stalagmites growing from the floor but the Commander is working on it as a point of retreat, large enough for everyone to get into if we're attacked or over run by zombies.

There are tunnels that snake out from Mishler - only large enough for a single person at a time to crawl through but it allows for routes of entry to bring in supplies.

The problem is - how to get enough supplies into Mishler and the electricity going again?  Both Grant and the Commander are busy working on the details with a team they've put together.  So - I haven't seen the Commander since my run and since we returned from the trail with a very happy Dr. Jividen.

The Run

I wasn't sure how many runners were running.  Many were from Grant's outfit and are very fit looking although it turned out in practice they didn't know quite enough about running so unfortunately we lost two people but I didn't know them.  I know it's bad, but it's hard to mourn people you don't know in these times.

Dr. Jividen returned with an ensnared elk that has a deviation of its teeth making them rather nasty, long, yellow and brutal - and it now craves meat.  She's so excited, she named him Lucifer.  She's testing him for Mortis or to see if it's yet another sub-strain of the zombie plague.  What will we feed it? I kept asking and I was told politely to shut up - let the grownups work.

It was really windy, up to 25mph gust and we started at Coffenbury lake on the trail, ran up to I think Delura Beach Dune Trail - over to South Jetty - Down to the bridge and back over making a loop of six miles.  I started in the rear on purpose.  There were a lot of jittery runners and I knew they would break off at top speed.  That wasn't me.  I held back and I started with my slowest pace, a warmup pace.  No use burning up all my fuel the first mile.  I was still running that mile when I started passing the other runners - walking, limping along - already.  Lactic acid build up is a bitch. So I ran most of the distance at the same pace only walking a bit over the bridge.

The zombies were out but a little subdued.  I was surprised.  Midpoint on the run I looked around and there was no one in front of me and no one behind me.  The thicket around the trail is thick and zombies can emerge unexpectedly so I kept moving and didn't let my guard down.  Soon the run was over and I was pleasantly surprised to be alive.

I guess a swarm had attacked at the back of the pack and taken out a couple of walkers before the snipers were able to contain the zombs.

There was a truck full of gear and samples that Dr. Jividen collected, and of course the two bodies.  She was unperturbed and called it a huge success.    I didn't get to see what all she collected, from who or how since I was running but it sounded encouraging.  She's working with New Portland and making progress.

Well readers - I hear the Commander.  I think he is finally home.  I'm just resting in my bunk today since its my day off.

Don't Be Nervous

I've been training for this run, a test of Dr. Jividen's Mortis theory - that it slows down zombies.  They're going to dart them (raided a Vet supply shop that darted local elk awhile back) and see what happens.  I'm the bait.

I'm running a six mile loop as fast as I can, but not so fast that I have to walk or run out of fuel because if I walk I'm dead.  They'll come from the trees and behind and even in front of me and I have to out run them. 

Dr. Jividen who loves weapons is setting up a blind up in a tree where she plans to sleep overnight.  She also has some nets to deploy to catch "fresh specimens" and a whole host of tests she's setup.  She has about a dozen people along the trail in trees with either darting equipment and guns making it "safer". 

The Commander who was going to run with me injured his knee.  He won't even be at the starting post.  For some reason having him there was giving me a lot of courage and reinforcement that everything would work out alright. 

He just says, "you've got this, you do this all the time - just do what you usually do." 

I typically don't have the panic button in my head going off at full - what if I hyperventilate and can't breathe to run?  The first mile will be the hardest - the first mile my brain always thinks its in charge but after it finally realizes I'm not stopping it shuts up, turns off and I just RUN. 

Whatever happens - my foot, my knees, my calves - I'm ignoring it.  I just have to run and keep running and find whatever deep recess of power I might have inside that has been since now untapped.  I've read about runners finding that inner power -- do I even possess such a thing?  I hope so or I'm probably zombie food.  I've worked hard on recovering my feet, stretching my hamstrings - God, will it be enough?

Goodnight Fort Stevens, Goodnight  

11PM TV

Plantar fasciitis - makes your feet feel like they want to break off.  Each step is agonizing and even though I rest when I walk or run again it's just as bad as ever.  *sigh* I hobble along when no one is watching.

Dr. Jividen and the Commander have a loop for me to run but I can't read the map correctly and they keep saying my samples are from the wrong locations so I have to go re-run my mission.

I run the paths everyday and if they tell me, "North of Swash Lake" -- I know that and can follow it.  Or if I could draw my own map of how I see the trails in my head and how the directions 'feel' to me...I could follow that map just fine.  But their map makes no sense at all to me and today I failed to ever locate the drop from Fort Rilea.

The Commander is going with me in three days time to run the course and get it worked out in my head but I'm worried he's lost faith in me. Worse, he's fast as a runner.  He's over six foot tall so I'll have to put on some speed and speed work is what absolutely KILLS MY FEET.  OUCH!! 

My results came back from New Portland and my kidney Creatinine level was a 1.1 which was a drop from the 1.2 and 1.3 it generally stays at.  So although I'll still have to urinate every five minutes and dehydration is still an issue as well as fluid retention, I'm okay.

I have colitis again.  A genetic foible like my kidneys.  I can't digest fructose and we have a lot of dried meal packets.  Some must have dried fruit or tomatos or citric acid.  I don't know where the offending food is coming from yet.  It's hard to run when your abdomen is in a lot of pain.  Ironically it also makes me hungry.  I guess it's from not digesting food too well.  I've been having a marathon

of hot chamomile tea.  I also secured me some aloe and L-Glutamine so as long as I can figure out which food is causing the inflammation, I can cure it. 

When the Commander comes in around eleven pm he ceases being the Commander.  He peels off his shirt and dons a housecoat and we watch funny cartoons on the laptop.  This week he has us watching, "China IL" a Brad Neely cartoon.

During the day he's like a different person.  Him and Grant have a committee put together.  They say if we're going to get attacked it will be before winter sets in.  No one wants to have to deal with the rain.  It has been unseasonably clear lately.

Dr. Jividen says that regular zombies can be reinfected with Mortis slowing them down and eliminating their blood lust.  She says we could use Mortis infected ...individuals....as bait for our local zombie population.  The Commander thought the idea was morbid even if possibly effective.

Grant's forces have taken on downtown Hammond and the South Jetty Inn quickly building fence that gives them a kind of 'chute' to Ft. Stevens, a quick retreat path.

Meanwhile I pointed out to the Commander that there is a lot of underground structures at Fort Stevens that we haven't explored.  Tunnels?  He didn't really reply to me, only vaguely acknowledged my observation.  That happens a lot.  I don't take offense to it anymore. 

I usually sleep until he comes in at 11 then I get up for an hour and watch tv with him.  I make hot tea from a little coffee pot he brought in.  He doesn't drink coffee or tea so I guess it was just for me.  He never said, he just set it up one morning.  So far he hasn't invited any of the new runners or people to bunk in our house.  I prefer it that way, people are so annoying.

I hope for a better run tomorrow.  I need to stretch.  I need to make some arch supports I guess.  I need to figure out my colitis.  Feeling overwhelmed today. 

Ominous

I sat on top of a burnt out school bus that had been dragged under the trees to rust and rot.  It was my place to meditate.

Today the Commander ran with me and he is getting better.  He's 6'2" and has a long stride so I get to go faster which today was fun.  The air was crisp and cool but not windy.  The sun was out tanning my face even darker while burning the Commanders head and arms.

I needed the time on top of the school bus because of a certain confusion growing in me over the Commander.  It was just a thing now that sooner or later at night we would end up holding each others hands and he had gone out on more runs together.  Sometimes we were alone in the bunk together making jokes and he seemed more human and vulnerable then.  We liked many of the same things and always seemed to agree.

I was imagining things - I thought to myself.  No way the commander of the entire base would fall for a puny runner.

I was still awaiting my test results from New Portland but my kidneys seemed to be doing much better.  I noted that my diet had very little sugar in it and they had begun to get better.

Every time I was around the Commander I felt funny, self conscious and odd.  I sighed.  Sometimes it was like a tickle at the back of my mind, something I should remember or dots I should have already connected.

War was coming kinda like winter -- on a day like today neither seemed likely.

Several deer wandered up under the bus browsing at the stickery berry bushes.  I didn't want to scare them.  I sat quietly legs crossed.

The last words I had with the Commander he asked if I would be available for a run tomorrow as well.
I didn't know what to make of it so decided to put it out of my mind - there was no way someone in such a high place would fall for someone like me.  He was always so busy, there had to be another explanation...

Poor Commander - it had been a brutally hard week and people had died and people had been saved and costly decisions had to be made and there was no one but him and occasionally the effervescent Grant to take it all on.  He was a solid cold stone so much of the time, but occasionally his humanity peaked out as we watched funny vids on my old laptop or when he reached for my hand in the middle of the night then he transformed and I knew it was a transformation that he only allowed me to see.  Maybe such trust made me nervous.  He was, I mused, about the most dangerous friend I could possibly have - yet also the most interesting.

A Death In The Smoke

I was out in a slow loping jog that carries me along with no worries or thoughts and I was about three miles away from camp doing some surveillance of the houses around our perimeter when I thought I was running into fog but instead the air filled with smoke.  It was fragrant from a hard wood source I could tell, possibly a hold out resident trying to get the chill out of their dwelling.  With heavy air pressure and high humidity the smoke rolled around the ground spreading out slowly like a fog.  It had saturated the area.

I couldn't breathe the damn stuff and my eyes started to water.  Visibility was going down the further I went forward, and it was the right conditions for the Zombies to get more interested in the hunt.  From my flank I heard a familiar gurgle of a zombie and possibly ahead.  It was hard to tell. 

I abruptly stopped, there was a wrecked bicycle and more noises just ahead.  My heart sunk, I picked up the bike and hopped on riding the same direction I had come as quickly as I could.  Whoever had owned the bike must have happened into the same trap and had become entangled with zombs.  It must have been one of our South Jetty Inn residents under General Grant, but which one?

I road the bike back to South Jetty Inn and returned it with as short of an explanation as I could because I'm not good with grief or comforting people.  I loped off at a steady fast jog back toward the Fort with my next mission, informing the Commander of the bicyclers death.  He would know who she was and tonight in the camp there would be a lot of hushed conversations, some tears, some fanatical terror and alcohol consumption.

I would hide in my bunk, play with my pink bouncy ball and curse the stupidity of humanity that had lit that fire.