Day 20

It is foggy outside. It is thick and wet. Looking out of the window I could only see some fifteen feet in front of me. Not ideal for driving in, especially when we do not know the way and will be relying on a map, but, nevertheless, we will be leaving today.

I am anxious to get going. With the hummer we should be able to make it up near Salem, Oregon by tonight. That is if nothing goes wrong. And according to our luck, thats unlikely. I sit near a window, eating dry cereal and a nutrition bar, looking at the fog. I cannot see anything. For all we know there are zombies surrounding the building. The thought brings little comfort for our trip, but I am still too anxious not to go.

I have not see my family for almost a month now, and not heard from them for almost as long. I push the feelings of doubt away each time we are attacked or have a close call. I know they've survived. They must have. I wonder how differently things would have been if they were not in Oregon. We may never have come out here. Crystal may still be alive, but would they still be trapped in Costco as well?

* * *

Chad drives. I am in the passenger sear with Josh directly behind me. I have my gun ready, leaning against the seat next to me but hopefully I will not need to use it. We pull out of the garage and slowly--very slowly--begin to make our way out of the city. I have a map of the city and I try to get us to Highway 70. From their, at least until we are out of California Chad knows the way. I suspect their will be maps to grab at the Redwoods tourist attraction areas. We will stop there and get one.

Chad is driving slowly while we all try to see through the thick fog. I do not see anything, but with every passing moment I fear that the sound of the Hummer, in an otherwise dead city, would eventually be heard. None of us speak. The fog blurs everything. A simple lamp post could just as easily be a zombie and while there is some measure of protection in the massive black Hummer, I cannot help but feel anxious and  quite frankly, scared that something could happen. If there are enough of them attracted to the sound of the vehicle then I don't think even it could keep them out.

Instinctively I reach for the lock on the top of the door frame. The doors are locked.

I see something move, just to our right, out of our window and gasp. Chad stops the car. No one speaks as I squint and look through the dense fog. There is no movement.

"I thought I saw . . ." There's movement again. This time Josh sees it as well. All three of us peer out when a body, dead and mangled hits my window. I jump back and let out a gasp. The body is, or rather was a zombie. It did not hit the window to attack. It was killed. There is a hole through the side of its head. It slides down the door, leaving a bloody spear down the side of the car. As it falls, I see another object. A person, wearing a gas mask, emerge from the fog, crossbow in hand. Every inch, (as far as I can see) is covered. Gloves, jacked zipped all the way up, covering his neck, the gas mask, and a hoodie. We stare at each other for some time. Finally, he points at himself, and then the hummer and back at himself. I nod and he walks around the front of the hummer and to the rear door, behind Chad.

He opens the door and speaks through his mask. It is muffled and hard to understand. "Did you de-sanatize?"

I look at Chad, and then back at this man. "De-sanatize? What do you . . ." Without another word he pulls a bag from off of his back and pulls a spray bottle out, spraying it on the seat, and anywhere around him. He then shoots it into the air, saying, "hold your breath." We do. Finally, after a minute or two he gets in, buckles his seatbelt and closes the door. He does not remove his mask.

"You can take your mask off if you'd like." Josh says to him.

He looks at us, there is some blood on our clothes along with filth that has built up. "I do not think that is wise." There is blood on you and I could . . ."

I cut him off, "the blood is dry. It can't infect you. Anything dangerous in the blood is long dead." He waits for a few seconds and then takes it off. The he was a she, her voice being muffled and distorted made it seem like a man. She spoke and her voice was deeper than average, but still womanly.

"Thanks," she says to us all, looking at each of us, (Chad, through the mirror). "For the ride."

"It's no problem," Josh says quickly. I look at him deliberately. He clears his throat. "So, what's your name?"

"It's Charlotte," she says, placing her crossbow on the floor to her right. The bolts are connected underneath and it is not loaded.

"I'm Aaron," I offer and then point to Chad and Josh, giving their names as well.

"Well, again," she responds, "thanks for the ride."

We talk a little and find out she's from Sacramento and has been living in the city, alone for almost two weeks. Her family had been effected early on, but never bit, not as far as she knew. And so she was sure that the disease was airborne.

"How long did it take for your parents to . . . change?" I ask, still worried about Josh.

Before she could answer there is a thump on the front of the car and I fall forward towards the dash. I spin around and there, on the hood, gripping the top of the engine hood is a zombie. I can barely hear it's screaming, but can tell it is yelling loudly.

"Damn it," Chad says, swerving the car. "Shut that thing up." I grab my pistol and push the button to unroll the window but before I have my gun out there is a bang and the zombie drops dead, still on the hood. Chad swerves to get it off.

I look back and Charlotte is climbing back in through the window, a pistol in her hand is quickly put into a holster at her hip. All I could thing then was, damn it, we forgot holsters, again. I put the safety on my gun and place it on the center console near the cup holders.

Again, I look out the window. Looking to see if any hear the yelling. Chad is going faster, but still cannot drive too fast as there are abandoned cars throughout the city. Charlotte and Josh are look out their windows as well. I decide to drop the question about her parents, or family. I can tell that Josh is still uneasy about his bite, I could see it in his face when I asked.

The fog is clearing up and we can see better now. I catch a zombie through an alley way occasionally, but nothing close. I check the map and we are five or so miles from HW 70.

Chad saw him first, and at his gasp and sudden stop we all looked forward and saw the man ourselves. He was alone, in the middle of the street, his back facing us. In front of him was a massive horde of zombies. It was obvious that they had been chasing him. Even from our distance I can see his heavy breathing.

"Go!" I yell to Chad, and he soon comes to his senses and pushes his foot on the gas, trying to get to the man before the zombies. We speed towards him but just as Chad begins slowing and I open my door to help him in he raises his gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Blood and brains spray on the front of our car and we hit into him as he falls over.

"NO!" I yell, and pulling my gun from its place beside me start to shoot at the oncoming zombies. I roll my window down as Chad turns and I close my door, pulling my body out and as we drive off I fire at them.

I hear Josh doing the same, however Charlotte remains seated, her mask is back on and it looks eerie.

* * *

I am disturbed by the mans suicide. We were right there. Could he not hear or see us? The front of the Hummer is still smeared with blood and I want to hack because of it, but we drive on. No one speaks as we take highway 70 through a mountain pass and turn onto Highway 1. But finally, as we pass Fort Bragg, in the mid-afternoon, I ask Charlotte again about how long it took her parents.

"They got sick at the same time as my younger brother. There was a lot of blood and there was no one to take them to. They changed in about a day. Maybe a little less." I could see Josh visibly relieved at this. "Why do you ask?"

I hesitate but it is Josh that speaks up. "We had a friend, well, who got infected. He died in the same amount of time."

"So . . ."

"We want to make sure weren't infected."

"Quite frankly I'm surprised you're not, you are just out exposed. Have you killed many walkers?"

"Walkers?" Chad says. "Like the comic?"

"Whatever," she replies. "It sounds better."

"Yes. Lots." I can tell she's puzzled. And so I tell her about my theory regarding our immunity. We discuss it until we get out of the redwoods hours later. We fill up in the dark and afterwards I drive, Chad giving me directions to Eugene. They are just out side of the city in Pleasant Hill and I believe I can find it, having been their recently, but I've never driven from this direction. Usually we come from Salem, a bit north.

The house is dark. But I am not surprised at that. I grab my machete from my bag and step out of the vehicle, the engine is still running and lights on. I go to the door and knock. There is no answer. I yell that it is me, but still no answer. My heart is pounding and so I open the door. I am suddenly tackled to the ground. I can feel the struggling, over excited body tearing at me. An elbow connects with my nose and I can feel it break. Still, I am able to push my self away, machete in hand. I hear the yell coming from it and feel something dig into my leg. I scream. There is shouting behind me, but I can't make it out. It rips away from me and I grab my machete and hack at it from the side. I can tell I'm hitting it, but not its head. Blood from my broken nose is running into my eyes and I cannot see it. It bites me again, near the same spot, digging into my muscles and flesh. I am yelling and kicking, trying to swing my machete but losing strength. I can feel footsteps by me and then a shot, ringing in my ears, and another intense pain in my leg.

I look down and see the zombie laying on my legs. It is kicked off by someone and there is a massive chunk of flesh taken out of my right calf; an inch or so deep and four in diameter. "No!" I cry, trying to move away from the thing but cannot move well. Each kick glances off the ground and the pain surges through my leg. I am bleeding. I can't breath and someone is talking to me, holding me head. I try concentrating, breathing through my nose, but it doesn't help. Oh, shit! My leg! I am still not able to breath until finally everything goes black and the pain leaves.