Close encounters...

Entry 008:

 All my hopes and dreams came true today: after God-only-knows how many days I went without food, the blizzard finally let up enough for me to venture outside. Okay, so maybe not all of my hopes and dreams came true; I wasn’t miraculously rescued and brought to a veritable utopia full of food, drink, women, and warmth – and I’m fairly certain the scourge is still ravaging the world…But through my foraging, I am still maintaining this meager existence I call my life.

(I often wonder why I don’t put myself out of this misery…I guess I’m just that type of masochist…)

How good it feels to eat! I have a newfound zeal for life after today!

(Wow…okay, I’m definitely losing it.)

Anyhow…let me resume my tale…

I last left you with a picture of my befuddled figure standing over a desecrated bag of trail mix. I had awoken in a tree somewhere in the middle of the forest – somewhere near Fossil Rock, if my memory of the area serves me correctly. It would seem as though I had fallen asleep while munching on the trail mix and had dropped the bag in my sleep. I can only assume that the contents of which were scavenged and socked away by some squirrel – or another such rodent. No great loss, considering I was still stocked with an assortment of food. But still not the way one wants to rise in the morning when food has become something of a precious commodity.

What I hadn’t told you before is that I had stowed my bicycle behind a cluster of bushes. I wasn’t too concerned with it being stolen out there, but the last thing I wanted was for such an unlikely occurrence to actually occur. That, and I wasn’t too keen on advertising my presence to anybody who might happen by the remote locale – not after my run-in with Roger Lawless, or the nonsensical, bloody scene of blasted militants back on the highway. Humans were obviously not to be trusted when shit hits the fan…not that I really trusted them beforehand.

With one last glance at the desecrated bag of trail mix, I retrieved my bicycle from behind the bushes and started off down the rocky road. The ride was uneventful for some time. I came across deep tracks of a large dually that had sat for some time in the rain – perhaps all night. But I paid this little mind as I rode down a steep grade to a quaint dam. The gates were wide open, the chopped lock lying to one side – a discarded husk of supposed security. I rode on without stopping to soak in the view, following the road around the other side of the river.

I found a gruesome scene a little ways down. A utility vehicle had apparently careened down the hillside and crashed into a tree, thus ejecting one of the occupants. From the looks of him, the man was infected prior to said ejection. I was fortunate that his brains were splattered across the tree, or else I might have to throw down. And I was most certainly not ready to throw down that morning.
The truck looked as though it had been pushed by something large (my guess is whichever dually camped out in the forest the night before). I proceeded up the road, following the backpath of the utility vehicle. Marks of its journey scarred a number of the trees and littered the road; a mirror there, some plastic shards there. Looking back on it, I should have seen the signs…ah, but what sort of lesson would it have been?

I nearly plowed into the ghoul at the top of the hill. Instead, I clipped it and lost control of the handling for a moment. And just when I thought I had it all under control, my front wheel went off the pavement and threw me from my seat. I went sprawling across loose gravel and gathered a couple lacerations in the process. The bike took a tumble, too, but it fared much better than I did.

After only a moment’s disorientation, I hopped to my feet, staff in hand. The damn thing was nearly upon me already! I swung low, catching it in the belly, then brought my staff up high and smashed the ghoul with a decisive blow to the skull. It crumpled at once. With no other immediate threat, I sheathed my staff and pulled my bicycle back onto the road. I took off like a flash, skirted a blocking semi and trailer by the soft earth to one side. About half a mile down, another ghoul was staggering eastward along the highway. I gave this one a wide berth and avoided it without incident.

And then I found myself – without warning – in what some people would consider a town. This little bend in the highway consisted of a wrecking yard and general store; supposedly separate entities, seeing as they were on opposite sides of the highway. Though, it’s anyone’s guess at this point…
The wrecking yard’s front windows and façade were all painted over with red crosses. The large bay windows at the front were solid red. It had to be paint; no amount of humans – that I could then fathom – could produce that much blood in such a small town. Black smoke billowed from the chimney and I wondered briefly over the occupants of this establishment. Certainly they had been healthy recently enough to kindle a fire under the hearth. One thought that never crossed my mind was actively seeking out their aid or succor. Anybody who paints that many large, red crosses over a building’s façade is too fargone for me.

The general store was located in a quaint, unsuspecting looking abode – an easy-to-miss establishment, if you’re not looking for it. But I was. After the rains of last night, I realized one colossal mistake I’d made: I forgot to pack a poncho. And it wouldn’t hurt to replenish my water supply – why not, when it’s all-you-can-drink these days? Well, it was until the water went stagnant.

But that’s a tale for another day.

With at least one zombie closing in on this little bend in the road, I kept my stop brief. I was in and out in two minutes, with a fresh bottle of water, an impossibly small box that contained a large poncho, and two Cliff Bars. I chowed down on one of these while riding out of town. I reached the next gruesome scene of the day just as I was finishing this midday snack of mine.

A pair of bloody, dented utility vehicles – one was on its side and half crushed by the other – were blocking the southeast lane. Scattered about the trucks was a mess of dead ghouls and utility supplies – there had been a showdown here. Marching away from this scene was a gory, two-lane trail of smudged and dragged footprints. The horde had made it maybe a half mile down the road – give or take – and I could see their bobbing form from where I stood astride my trusty bicycle.

A lightbulb flickered uncertainly over my head, and I heaved my bike over the barbwire fence to the north. And then I climbed over one of the posts and started across the open field, keeping to my generally southeast heading. The farmland was broad enough that I easily bypassed the staggering horde. I smiled at my ingenuity as I watched them clamor after me; they mindlessly gouged themselves on the barbs of the fenceline without a hint of discomfort. Soon enough, they became a piece of my past as I sailed on into the afternoon sunlight.

That, my faithful readers, is all I can produce for tonight. Mayhap, now that I’m restocked on my supplies, I will feel up to the task of writing tomorrow. But only time will tell right now. What I can assure you, however, is that I will return to this task in due time. I am a new man, now! Nothing can stop me! –Adieu.