By getting most of the zombies down to one end, she was able to run to the other and jump.
She eluded most of them, but then ended up having to fend off a fair amount. Hence being such a mess and needing to clean up.
I asked her where she was heading. She said that some travelers heading south told her about a safe zone on Mount Hood. I filled her in on the details, including the situation regarding the Warm Springs Reservation. I also hinted where we were headed.
Tricia is coming from Utah and didn’t have any info about Nevada. I asked about Utah, mostly just curious to hear if it was as bad as every other place I’ve been. I never considered how a heavily religious region might react and respond to an event like this. She said that the zombies were almost less of a concern when compared to some of the zealot extremists. Oddly, the main body of the Mormons wasn’t a problem. It was the offshoots that continued to lurk in the shadows. It seems that there is a very male-centric core that view women as subjects, servants, and vessels to carry their offspring.
Some sort of Holy War erupted and a lot of people were killed by the lunatic fringe. I guess, right up to the end, the elders of the central body were condemning the extremists…all the way up to the point when an eighteen-wheeled car bomb was rolled into their main cathedral in downtown Salt Lake City.
Sunday, May 9
Tricia was gone when we woke.
My clothes were neatly folded and sitting on the counter. I think she did Eric last night when I was sleeping. He seems to be in a strangely cheerful mood.
Whatever.
Monday, May 10
We should be reaching Burns, Oregon soon. Eric says that we might be able to replenish supplies there. The population was scarce and spread out. There really wasn’t that much to Burns before. At least that’s what Eric says.
Eric explains that we need to be on guard. Burns being so rural, there is a high probability that some of the yokels may have survived. Towns like Burns had a heavy gun-to-person ratio. I remember the carnage on the streets of some of the small towns we’ve been through.
We haven’t seen a zombie all day. And in some respects, that actually seems kinda creepy. A lack of undead can mean a lot of things. Not all of them are good.
Tuesday, May 11
At the best of times, children were something I was always thankful for NOT having to deal with. I mean, it was always nice to visit friends or family with rugrats of their own…and leave when they got tiresome. (My personal best being about two hours.) If they cried and wouldn’t stop…hand them to mommy. Dirty diaper?…point, hold my nose, and leave the room. See? Simple.
And yeah, I’m aware I’ve given birth to a child. However, I knew myself well enough to know it was a bad match. I am not a good candidate for parenthood. I am saying all this so that I can also clarify that I’ve never wished harm on children. (Also, in case you are wondering, yes, I do still think about my daughter. I still feel like I made the right choice of parents. I gave her to a good couple, and The Warehouse is probably the safest place I know.)
So why am I blathering on about all this? Well, it has been a rough day. We were moving along, Sam trotting ahead marking every shrub, clump of grass, or abandoned vehicle we passed. Then we heard the scream. It was coming from beyond a ridge off to our right.
Needless to say, we ran to find out what the hell was going on. We had to keep Sam back. Eric held him by the scruff of his neck while I moved ahead to check out the situation. You might criticize us for taking too long to respond to an obvious emergency, but rushing blindly into anything these days will just get everybody killed.
I was in no way prepared for what I saw.
Five girls—ages fifteen to (maybe) twenty—were up on an abandoned RV. It was that kind that isn’t much bigger than a pick-up truck. Dangling from the rear was a man. Naked.
She eluded most of them, but then ended up having to fend off a fair amount. Hence being such a mess and needing to clean up.
I asked her where she was heading. She said that some travelers heading south told her about a safe zone on Mount Hood. I filled her in on the details, including the situation regarding the Warm Springs Reservation. I also hinted where we were headed.
Tricia is coming from Utah and didn’t have any info about Nevada. I asked about Utah, mostly just curious to hear if it was as bad as every other place I’ve been. I never considered how a heavily religious region might react and respond to an event like this. She said that the zombies were almost less of a concern when compared to some of the zealot extremists. Oddly, the main body of the Mormons wasn’t a problem. It was the offshoots that continued to lurk in the shadows. It seems that there is a very male-centric core that view women as subjects, servants, and vessels to carry their offspring.
Some sort of Holy War erupted and a lot of people were killed by the lunatic fringe. I guess, right up to the end, the elders of the central body were condemning the extremists…all the way up to the point when an eighteen-wheeled car bomb was rolled into their main cathedral in downtown Salt Lake City.
Sunday, May 9
Tricia was gone when we woke.
My clothes were neatly folded and sitting on the counter. I think she did Eric last night when I was sleeping. He seems to be in a strangely cheerful mood.
Whatever.
Monday, May 10
We should be reaching Burns, Oregon soon. Eric says that we might be able to replenish supplies there. The population was scarce and spread out. There really wasn’t that much to Burns before. At least that’s what Eric says.
Eric explains that we need to be on guard. Burns being so rural, there is a high probability that some of the yokels may have survived. Towns like Burns had a heavy gun-to-person ratio. I remember the carnage on the streets of some of the small towns we’ve been through.
We haven’t seen a zombie all day. And in some respects, that actually seems kinda creepy. A lack of undead can mean a lot of things. Not all of them are good.
Tuesday, May 11
At the best of times, children were something I was always thankful for NOT having to deal with. I mean, it was always nice to visit friends or family with rugrats of their own…and leave when they got tiresome. (My personal best being about two hours.) If they cried and wouldn’t stop…hand them to mommy. Dirty diaper?…point, hold my nose, and leave the room. See? Simple.
And yeah, I’m aware I’ve given birth to a child. However, I knew myself well enough to know it was a bad match. I am not a good candidate for parenthood. I am saying all this so that I can also clarify that I’ve never wished harm on children. (Also, in case you are wondering, yes, I do still think about my daughter. I still feel like I made the right choice of parents. I gave her to a good couple, and The Warehouse is probably the safest place I know.)
So why am I blathering on about all this? Well, it has been a rough day. We were moving along, Sam trotting ahead marking every shrub, clump of grass, or abandoned vehicle we passed. Then we heard the scream. It was coming from beyond a ridge off to our right.
Needless to say, we ran to find out what the hell was going on. We had to keep Sam back. Eric held him by the scruff of his neck while I moved ahead to check out the situation. You might criticize us for taking too long to respond to an obvious emergency, but rushing blindly into anything these days will just get everybody killed.
I was in no way prepared for what I saw.
Five girls—ages fifteen to (maybe) twenty—were up on an abandoned RV. It was that kind that isn’t much bigger than a pick-up truck. Dangling from the rear was a man. Naked.
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