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The Hunters Lair
Twenty minutes later I crested the ridge and stood upon what was really a narrow plateau-hill top. Through the trees I spied something blue-green in color and knew it was the camp of the men we killed earlier. I unsheathed my sword and looked around. There may be one or two that stayed behind to guard the camp or to do whatever hunters, as I now referred to them, do. Moving carefully, trying to keep a large enough tree next to me so to provide cover should I need it, I reached the camp in a few minutes.
Set in a clearing in the trees it was built haphazardly, as if they had no rhyme or reason. Three tents were set up in an odd configuration, most likely finding the flattest spot without any roots or rocks sticking up from the ground. Two of the tents were in bad shape. The nearest one however looked to be fairly brand new. Likely scavenged from some sporting goods store. I listened carefully for any noise of anyone that might be lingering or even asleep in the tents. Nothing, the camp was still as death. I stepped out from behind the tree and sheathed my blade and began looking around, wondering what Janece needed to show me.
As I was rummaging through their camp my mind split into thinking about two things. One, was to find our way out of this area. A narrow valley of sorts and what seemed to be located miles from anywhere. It was either going to be a long walk or if we were lucky a town nearby. The men who attacked us surely wouldn't have gone too far out from a place where they could go back and scrounge for supplies. A few miles at best. These weren't military men but they did seem the type that could survive/live out in the wilderness for days at a time. Weekend deer hunters or extreme campers. Just about everything about their camp spoke of it, (not rich by any stretch of the imagination. No fancy Eddie Bauer gear to cook food or a comfy place to relax. Some of the folding camp chairs looked to be on their last legs. All but one of their tents had patches of duct tape and I imagined their sleeping bags were flea or bed-bug infested. Nasty suckers one and all. The men not the bugs. The un-patched tent was fairly new or in damned good “cared for” condition. I recognized it as an older model but a still very serviceable 6 man dome tent.
Their camp wasn't even well organized. Nothing made sense. Items that I thought should've been together were lying about carelessly here and there. Only thing that looked half way decent was their fire pit. A shallow bowl lined with rocks and mud. Of course what they burned in the pit was their dinner remnants including deer bones, and various items of garbage, along with whatever wood they collected from the forest. The campfire was out but looked fresh. I gently kicked some of the burnt logs apart with the toe of my boot. One of the supposed deer bones had a look about it that I didn't like at all, mainly because didn't say “deer” just by looking at it. I peered a bit deeper into their already dead campfire and saw an outline of another bone that was a little too unmistakable from the ashed over twigs, which mimicked the appendage. My boot turned over still another a fat burnt up log and the answer that Janece wanted to show me became horribly clear. As I stared into the empty eye-sockets of the unfortunate person the skull once belonged to, I decided then not to hang around much longer. These hunters had sunk to the lowest depths that men could sink to.
That we managed to take 'em down relatively easy showed they had little or no combat experience. Primarily because if they were national guardsmen, most have already been circulated out from a combat zone from the last war. These guys, probably 4-F for some reason or another and didn't qualify for service. So they weren't as wary, weren't experienced with ambushes and watching prisoners for signs of sudden aggression. Basically good ole' boys who probably bad-mouthed the military because they weren't good enough themselves to be a part of it. Their inexperience in handling prisoners got them killed within the first five minutes. That was just too damned bad for them. But now it'll be too damned bad for us if we didn't get moving. These idjits did select their campsite well, or maybe (if what I saw in the fire pit was any indication), the previous owner of the older but well kept tent selected it.
Situated on top of the nearly plateau-like summit, the camp was fairly in the middle of a clearing on top a spot of exposed broken limestone worn flat by the wind and the rain. Walk 20-25 feet to either side of the ridge and you can see into the canyon where the train-wreck was and the area beyond, while the other-side showed the area where the train came from as we entered into the beginning of the foothills that were still miles of travel ahead of us. A broad flat valley, blending into the plains we traveled through the night since we were picked up. Janece was right. I was immediately thankful that I decided to stand next to a large trunk of an fallen oak that broke the wall of trees that otherwise would've blocked my view below, allowing me to see into the valley beyond and down the hill. This side had almost no trees at all, except for a few scrub oak here and there with an occasional pine or cedar higher up the hill. My eyes caught movement far below. Even without binoculars I could make out what they were.
More zombies and from the size of the group they had to come from a populous suburb nearby. Just off the top of my head I was looking at least 250 as my sight line lead down to the bottom of the ridge before leveling out. Beyond that bunch were scattered groups of 5 or 10, a lot of scattered groups, too damn many. All of them, headed straight at us. Thankful for the dead fall's massive exposed roots that broke up my outline I was able to slowly move left until the bottom of the dead tree concealed me completely. Funny how nobody at Wildfire thought to gauge how far these things can actually see. Their eyes may or may not be glazed over with monstrous cataracts, but how can you know? Sight, smell and sound are what attracts these creatures so it's likely if any saw me then I was either a part of the root system (not that they would know or even care what that was) or something edible.
Never realized that I would know first hand what being in the middle of the food chain actually was like. Many times while camping, I've been observed by large carnivores that knew or didn't know that I was aware of them. I'm sure there were twice as many times that I wasn't aware of being observed either. Hiking to caves and quiet camp-sites, one tends to get deeper into the wilderness than most folk on a weekend trip.
I didn't waste time and allowed my mind to pay attention to what was ahead of us. As I was thinking of what we would need to do once together again, I hauled ass on outta there. Reaching the start of the descent I slowed and chose my quickest path down. There were a lot of trees on this side, more than the one that herd was moving up on. Coming down hill it'll be like one big pinchinko machine. They'll start walking down and gravity will do the rest, the trees lining the hillside will control their speed. Bad thing about that is they'll bunch up closer as time goes on, gathering in strength via numbers. Singly they could be dealt with, even in small numbers. But as a bunch, no, even with a mini-gun you'd only delay your inevitable fate. Standing your ground and taking as many as you can will only put off being torn apart... even if you eat the last bullet. Then the herd will move on to the next fool that doesn't run or gets careless.
That's all it really boils down to now. Stay careful, stay alive. The great herds will dwindle down to smaller ones as those who continue to survive learn to fight and whittle them down like the rain that was tearing down this hillside ridge I was running down. James and his generation will continue the work and become smarter and stronger with each year that they live. Living day by day adds up and the experience that is gained increases the odds of survival. So long as the will to survive remains. But only, that is, if we get out of this shit storm that's headed our way, which is as sure and as deadly as any tornado.
Weeks after I made it out of my city and onto the road, I ran or hidden from groups and herds like this one. What I was witnessing was the growth of one. I've heard stories of herds moving through an area off road, going over or through now dead crops and empty hay fields, but I've now ascertained that they were drawn to it by some sound that triggered another instinct. A distant gunshot or car horn or whatever that could only be made by humans. Eventually the herds will congregate along the highways and roads of America. Somewhere in that now dark gelatinous mass that used to be the thinking part of a human brain, lies the instinct of using the streets, roads and interstate highways, because a huge portion of our lives was spent traveling on them. The zombies will have that instinct as they've already shown for the most part along our journey.
By the time this one would be done with all those individual and small groups it'll pick up along the way, they'll be creating a migration route. They could number up to a thousand or more. The direction that this bunch seems to be heading was roughly east by south east. Problem is, the wreckage will divert them to move towards where we were fleeing. To where Janece said her village was.
What's in our advantage, time wise, was the steepness of the hillside they were climbing. Because they were slow and not particularly well balanced, it would take them longer to reach the top of the plateau. The ones in front would probably take an hour to an hour and half to reach my position by the tree. In my caving days hiking up stuff like that was a common occurrence if you wanted to see a particular cave. You can't just run up to it. Even at 1000 feet, the elevation change was set at 50 degrees or more and much of it rocky, from rain falling heavily annually, absorbing into and running over the top soil, as part of what's left of the Rockies' annual percentage of precipitation, including snow. This whole ridge line was just an erosional feature from the same Rocky Mountains, given another 10,000 years (a blink of an eye in geologic time), and it'll likely end up as a big bump in the ground.
Still that didn't and wouldn't stop a herd like this one. Zombies were going to be a nuisance this way for a while yet. Until they're killed off or rot away as many of these are doing which gives me a time line and approximate location based on where they're from. Still just as dangerous as the fresher ones we took care of by the train wreck. That group must've had more than 50 with Nasif's sacrifice taking out at least 30 of them. That same group we destroyed must've been part of this one I saw.
By my estimates we had at least an hour before they reached the top of the ridge and another forty-five minutes to the train. I hoped that Janece will have that travois in time and Maggie will be already loading James onto it by the time I got back before the dead reaches the wreck. What that will do is spread them out and they'll probably start following the tracks in either direction. If we were lucky by any stretch of the imagination, the majority will follow the tracks away from us, at least until they bunch up against the group coming towards them That would buy us a little more time by a day or so.
According to Janece there was another group funneling on to the tracks from where we came and they'll still end up coming towards us. What we needed to do was to be on the tracks and out of sight around the next bend before the first of them reach the train. We'll have to keep moving for a while to widen the distance, unless Janece knew of another way.
It was either going to be a long walk or if we were lucky a town nearby. From there we can pick up a truck and in this part of the country a horse trailer wouldn't be too difficult to find. If not then we would only be able to move as fast as the horse can travel. I got a feeling that Janece wouldn't be too keen on letting her ride go. After all gas isn't going to do us much good in a few months anyway. Eventually the herds will congregate along the highways and roads of America. Somewhere in that now dark gelatinous mass that used to be the thinking part of a human brain, lies the instinct of using the streets, roads and interstate highways,because a huge portion of our lives was spent traveling on them. The zombies will have that instinct as they've already shown for the most part along our journey.
I didn't waste time and allowed my mind to pay attention to what was ahead of us. As I thought I hauled ass on outta there. Reaching the start of the descent I slowed and chose my quickest path down. There were a lot of trees on this side, more than the one that herd was moving up on. Coming down hill it'll be like one big pinchinko machine. They'll start walking down and gravity will do the rest, the trees lining the hillside will control their speed. Bad thing about that is they'll bunch up closer as time goes on, gathering in strength.
Weeks after I made it out of my city and onto the road, I faced groups and herds like this one. What I was witnessing right now, was the growth of one. By the time this one would be done with all that it'll pick up they could be in the thousands. Direction that they were headed was roughly in a more north-west line to our destination.
What's in our advantage, time wise was the steepness of the hillside they were climbing. Still that didn't and wouldn't stop a herd like this one. They're going to be a nuisance this way for a while yet. Until they're killed off or rot away as many of these are doing which gives me a time line and approximate location based on where they're from. As I saw these suckers, most of them were likely among of the first, to get hit/bit/whatever. Still just as dangerous as the ones we took care of by the train wreck. That group must've had about 50 with Nasif's sacrifice taking out at least 30 of them.
By my estimates we had at least an hour before they reached the train. I hoped that Janece had the travois in time and Maggie was already loading James onto it by the time I got back. Like rain water flowing down hill until it reaches a stream or a gutter, that will spread them out and they'll probably start following the tracks in either direction, and just like water, following the path of least resistance. If we were lucky by any stretch of the imagination, the majority will follow the tracks away from us, at least until they bunch up against the group coming towards them. According to Janece, there was a group funneling onto the tracks and they'll still end up coming towards us. How far away they are would be hard to tell. What we needed to do was to be on the tracks and out of sight around the next bend before the first of them reach the train. We'll have to keep moving for a while to widen the distance, unless Janece knew of another way.
I tried to keep my speed down best as I could while at the same time get to the bottom without killing myself or ... dammit! My foot hooked on an outcrop of rock and I went flying. My own instinct was to tuck and roll as I hit the ground with my shoulder, causing pain to take my breath away. Something jabbed me hard in the back and by the time I rolled to a stop there was a burning sensation of a bad scrape or cut somewhere I knew I wouldn't be able to reach. Figures.
I rolled over to sit on to my buttocks and tried to assess the damage. My shoulder and back were clamoring for attention the most but I ignored them for the moment and focused on other parts of me that might've been hurt. My left hand was starting to sting and I raised it up and saw why. It was covered with small red ants. I had landed right on an large ant hill. I jerked myself up right and slapped my pants leg with my hand and shook it violently to get rid of the biting ants. I could feel them crawling up along my back inside my shirt and getting into where it was hurt and making it worse. I took a few steps away from the destroyed mound and threw my pack off and began pulling my shirt up out of my pants to shake the ants loose. Already I could feel them around my neck and slapped at them there, all the while cursing up a blue streak.
When I was done, the ants were gone and the pains of my back and shoulder had returned to the forefront of my mind and told me that I was hurt but not so bad that I couldn't stand. Cursing myself for being careless and at the same time being lucky enough not to seriously hurt myself with a busted limb or sprained ankle I gingerly put my pack back on and checked my weapons. All were in good order. I got my bearings and continued a bit more slowly down the hill, though still in a hurry.
At the tracks I discovered I was closer to the auto carrier than I was where I started up by the aspen growth. I could make out the girl and her horse and was glad to see that she had the frame work of the travois already mounted on the saddle. I limped towards her to help out and to tell her what I had seen.
She looked up from her work and stopped what she was doing. “What happened to you?” Geez did I look that bad?
“I tripped on my down the hill, but I'm alright. How it coming?” indicating the travois. She didn't move and pointed at my clothes. “You're bleeding”. A voice in my head recalled a funny line in a movie, “I ain't got time to bleed.” All things considered that voice was right.
I looked down and sure enough the front and one side of my pants was dark red with blood. I must've hurt my back worse than I thought. She stepped forward and put her hand on my arm. “Let me have a look at you.” I didn't want to waste time but knew she was doing the right thing. I pulled my pack off and set it down on the ground and turned so my back was to her. “I fell and rolled a little ways, my back and shoulder hurts but I don't feel hurt anywhere else.”
She began slowly pulling my shirt up off my back and gave a small gasp. “You've a cut on your back and it's deep, you're bleeding from it. We need to get that taken care of. Take your shirt off. I'll get my first aid kit.”
“Wait, I got one in my pack right here. In the top cover.” I began unbuttoning my shirt and when I moved to take it off, I tried to stifle a moan. Damn, it was starting to really hurt now.
Janece bent to my pack and began opening it. “Did you see the camp?” Her voice had a nervous edge to it.
I nodded “yeah, I saw it and saw what was left of the original camper. Is that what you were trying to tell me?”
She found my first aid kit and opened it. “Yes, but I needed you to see for yourself. I felt that if I told you, that you wouldn't believe me and thought that if you saw it for yourself you'd know that I wasn't like them and that you could trust me.” She continued to get items out of the kit that she would need. When I saw her pulling the suture kit out I waved her off. “No, we haven't got time for it. Just apply a pressure bandage on the wound and bind it tight to stop the bleeding. When we're far enough away then Maggie can sew it up for me.”
If she was hurt by my preferring Maggie over her, she didn't show it. But her quick nod showed she wasn't about to argue the point. Suturing me up is the correct thing to do but time wouldn't allow it. We had to get out of the area post-haste. She put the kit back and went to work. Something cold and wet splashed on my back and my shoulder burned for a second. “If we can't do this properly all the way then at least half-assed is better than nothing.” She began wiping at the wound and drying where the hydrogen peroxide was poured over it.
I gritted my teeth because she was being quick and not quite so gentle. “I thought I had run out of that stuff.”
“If you did why keep the bottle? You had a little left, now you're empty”. She responded as I felt a cool bandage being put on the wound. I winced as she pressed down on it and then started applying tape to hold the pressure. “We're going to need to wrap this so it'll hold tighter. As you move you'll just start it bleeding all over again. You might need to be on that travois with the boy.”
She moved around to the front of me, and held up my bloody shirt. She grasped each sleeve and grinned. “Hope you have another shirt,” then yanked hard at them tearing it nearly down the middle. Strong girl this one. A couple more tugs and the shirt was in two pieces. She leaned forward and began tying it around my torso. We were in very close proximity and I could smell her hair. It was earthy and fresh. I held my arms up though it hurt my shoulder to do so, as she moved around to tie the knot on to the bandage to further secure it and apply more pressure.
When she was done she stepped back and immediately went back to work on the travois. I raised my eyebrow at her, watching as she placed another cross bar on the two main arms and began using the cord lying on the ground to tie it in place. Giving my head a shake, I went to my pack and opened it to pull out a clean shirt. At least in Wildfire we got to wash all of our clothes and re-pack them to make more room for the other items we obtained during our stay. I had at least a weeks worth along one side of my pack, all tightly rolled up and stacked in a single row. Putting the shirt on I heard a voice calling.
edited thanks to the Walking Dude for pointing out a double sentence
