Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews so far guys. You really keep me going with your encouragement and advise. Also, thanks to Willy for his help getting my directions and map stuff figured out.
Sighing, I rubbed my face with grubby hands, disgusting myself as a thin shower of dried blood rained down on the cruisers roof. Shit. I was filthy. Damn did I need a shower. I could feel the caked blood, and the three days of unwashed hair, weighing in on my shoulders, a greasy mass curling around my neck. Urgh, sick. I still hate that feeling. I motioned to the others as they came closer, and I began, voicing my thoughts. We needed a concrete plan, a direction!...A place! Something!
I led the discussion almost without realizing it, orchestrating the suggestions, questions, and concerns of the entire group as though I firmly knew the answers myself. Shivering now, I popped the trunk, and rooted about in my bags, finding my winter jacket, the one I always used to go skiing, and gratefully pulling it on. I reveled in the familiar homey smell, for a brief second, remembering back to the moment my mother taught me how to do laundry. I looked up briefly, and noticed that one more jacket was in order, and fished around in the myriad of shopping bags, tossing Rachel one of my sisters jackets. She was shivering fit to cause vibration as she thanked me gratefully, eying my loot in the trunk.
"Seriously, you are always prepared! What is it with you?" She joked, making light of my usual tendency to over-prepare. For a regular sleep-over, I always came with a book, flashlights, bottled water, snacks, and way too many pairs of underwear and socks. Much to the amusement of my friends of course.
"Well, now that it has paid off in such a huge way, you can't say anything more about it." I said nonchalantly, munching on a carrot, mindless of it's unpeeled, or unwashed state, I was past caring about the little things by now. But for some reason, my posture, or maybe my light-hearted quip turned into something hilarious to their ears. Rachel grinned, then burst out with laughter, causing a domino-like reaction, rendering the twins too, to laughter. Smiling weakly, not quite grasping the source of their hilarity, the sight of us, in the middle of the road, blanketed with snow, the personification of being on the floor of a massive arched cathedral of snow laden trees. Bowing above us at each side, creating quite the picture. The stupidity and strangeness of it all, watching Dave slumped on the cruisers hood, howling with laughter. "Nuts." I muttered, "Just nuts." I continued, a grin splitting my face in spite of it all.
Gradually, the laughter died down, tears of mirth were wiped away, and the general after laughter chuckles and sighs were expelled. Generally, we stood in a remarkably good position compared to most. We had a good amount of food, and various other important supplies. We had two working cars, though gas was soon to become an issue. The cruiser was half-full, Dan must have filled up just before he met me. We numbered four people, and one teed-off, exhausted pooch, currently going about her business on the roadside a few meters away. As I set out a dish of food for her, Dave got out all the maps he had residing in his glove box. Trent was attempting to get the cruisers GPS mapping system running. Grabbing another carrot, I slumped into the drivers seat, gazing at the radio. It looked like a regular CB truckers radio, maybe I an get some information on there! Leaning out, I shouted out my idea, Dave and Rachel moved the map they had been perusing to the cruisers hood in order to better listen.
Trent sighed in disgust at the GPS. "The satellite that feeds it must be out." He stated, rubbing a hand across his face. "It is that far spread?" Rachel questioned, fear evident in her eyes. "Looks like it." He replied, eyes roaming about her face, as if searching for those answers in her petite features.
Snapping on the radio, I tuned out the static, switching around to the channels at random, getting nothing but silence. "Is there a manual for this thing?" I groused, flicking about from channel to empty channel. "Try channel 15." Dave cut in, his voice floating through the open door from his position at the front hood, where he and Rachel were flipping through the maps strewn before them. "Huh?" I replied, but flicked the dial to 15 without his answer. "It is a station a lot of the truckers use when they go through here, a buddy at work told me." He replied.
Sure enough, within a few moments the static was replaced with voices. I was discretely amused and delighted to hear such stereotypical responses as: "Roger" and "Over and out." crackle from the set. We gathered in close to listen, and soon the activity over the radio seemed to form a pattern. Information of overrun safe points, infested towns, and other areas were commonly broadcasted, as well as personal locations. DJ Steve would have been jealous at the amount of up to date information they seemed to posses. It was a virtual highway of data, Steve would have indeed been proud, if he was still alive. I remember musing.
Suddenly, a brassy, panicked voice came blaring out on the airwaves. "This is Chuck, with Kingsley trucking, I am northbound on the Coquihala, just passed Kamloops. I have been gunning it for two days evading these fuckers. My gas has run out! And I am surrounded. God! If anyone hears this, and is in the area. I need help! Over!" Within seconds there were dozens of replies to his plead. Some asking for his specific location, others with advice. Unfortunately for poor Chuck, a few minutes later, the panic and grievous nature of his position caused him to, in a moment of terror and bad judgment, to open the door, screaming that he had to get out. His pleads ended with a strangled scream, barely discernible over a chorus of moans, only to be cut off seconds later, and replaced by a depressing silence.
"Damn." One trucker commented. "Horrible way to go." Seconds later another responded. "Yeah. People check your tanks! You can't risk being stranded, fill up at a pump that is in an isolated area as you can. Once you are dead in the water, thats when they swarm, and you are as good as dead. Over." Interesting I thought, storing away that tid-bit of information.
"Hey boys, this is Tad from Kelowna, checking in with another update. The city is lost. Repeat. The city is totally overrun." He continued, repeating the same message till another trucker cut in. " My satellite telly said a massive horde was moving up from the Vancouver area, the big group seems to move northwards when a city falls. Maybe this is the start of it?" He trailed off. Various others weighted in with their own opinions. Finally, when it begin to quiet down some, I grabbed the mike and hit the button.
"Hello. This is Ashley, coming in from Grinrod, I have a group of survivors with me. We are trying to find a safe spot, and heard tell of a experimental weather station and compound up in the mountains here. But are unsure of where. Any information as to it's location and directions would be great." I finished, adding "Over" a few seconds later as an afterthought. It didn't take long for a response to come on over the airways.
"Darling, you sound a bit young to be running the big rigs. Whats the situation?" Came a loud, gruff voice, distinctly American with a drawling Texan accent.. "I am not on the rigs, I have a CB radio from the police car I have." I replied uncertainly.
"Ha! Bet there is some story to that!" The trucker chuckled darkly. "But, darling I have a trucker friend on another channel whose bro in law was working on the construction of the station and it's compound. We were just weighing our chances of making it there. Here, switch to over to this other channel, maybe he can provide you with some directions. Over."
"Thank you so much! I exclaimed, switching to the channel he recommended. I handed over the mike to Trent, and grabbed a pen and paper pad, letting him deal with the rest. I was lousy with directions anyway. Unfolding myself from the chair, I stumbled slightly as I walked to the hood. I remember the exhaustion. I felt so entirely bone-numbingly, brain-drainingly tired, that if I had been alone I wouldn't have put it past me to simply sink down to the ground. To lay against the soggy tires and pass out. But with people with me, counting on me, and in this messed up situation, unconsciousness was not an option...more like an unheard of luxury.
"Any luck?" I called, questioning both Rachel and Dave on the progress at finding a route. "Nope, the roads, up when you hit 20 kilometers north of here, turn into logging roads, and then go off the map." He replied, looking up from the map, face scrunched in concentration. "Okay, we have a trucker on the CB radio that might have an answer. How are we doing for gas?" I asked. At his less then desirable reply I inquired if the map showed a gas station anywhere ahead.
"Yeah, a farmers-style Petrocan, about 10 kilometers ahead, I used it once to fill up my quad after mucking around on the trails in Siccamous." He thought aloud. "Awesome, how much is there in human habitation?" I inquired. I knew we needed to fill up. Maybe even nab some gas cans to fill a up some extras. But if it was a significantly habituated area, three puny weapons just weren't going to cut it. "Uh, some farms, a few houses around the station. It's a pretty wooded area, so not that much." He replied, face screwed up as he tried to recall fully.
"Good, we will stock up there." I replied. "We should check for gas cans, fill as many as we can manage. When we get there I want you and Trent to focus on that after filling the cars. Rachel and I will collect anything in the station that we can use." I continued.
Suddenly, a muffled boom, the fore-front of a descent sized explosion, rippled through the cold winter air. "Holy fuck!" I exclaimed, whirling on the spot. "What the fuck was that!" I yelled.
"Dunno." Trent responded, his grip noticeably tightening on his gun. "I hope that wasn't the gas station." Rachel said, looking mournful up the road as she shivered at Dave's side. "Yes, that would indeed fit our strain of luck wouldn't it." I muttered, squinting up the road. "Either way." I continued, cocking the shotgun nervously, "We need to find a safe house or something to spend the night. Lets keep going. We have to take the chance, we need the fuel and ammo, as much as we can get...If we can find it." I finished.
"I agree, it's getting dark." Trent said quietly. And so it was, the dieing day hued the sky above us a light, bloodied orange. And as we all went for out separate cars, I heard Rachel whisper as she passed.
"What if you are wrong?", Her words chilling and sinister in the surrounding bloody sky. Then she disappeared around the trucks side. Leaving me with nagging doubts, a sweaty chill, and nervous eyes.
