The North (#wattys2016)

Chapter 11

Journal Entry: 14 NOVEMBER 1800 HRS ZULU – Breakout Complete.

 

Ten hours have passed since we broke out of the armory and we’re having a quick break to eat. I honestly didn’t think we’d be in a fire fight with other survivors. I thought they’d see our two APC’s and run like hell, but I was wrong about that. I can only hope we aren’t wrong about making it to Sanctuary base.

            The noise from our APC’s has attracted every creep within earshot - that small army we encountered back in Montgomery has morphed into something the size of a brigade. Cruze has been sending me a situation report every ten minutes, and she figures there has to be easily a thousand or more of them – but they’re a few kilometers behind us, thankfully. Who knows, maybe they’ve found some other survivors to swarm.

Back at the armory, I had no idea how bad things were in the outside world. Every burned-out house and boarded up gas station we passed had a few creeps lurking around. Sometimes we see a lone monster shuffling up the middle of the thoroughfare opposite the riverbank like a stray animal. Sid, with trademark black humor, has decided to call monsters that cluster in tiny groups happy wanderers.

Dawson and Sid have been snapping at each other off and on all day. I don’t know what’s going on with those two – ever since Kate threatened to flatten Sid, they’ve been bickering about the stupidest crap in the world. The good news is that Doug has gotten us clear of the city and we’re going to be in open country soon. I’ve just radioed Cruze to see how her team is handling things – Mel is pretty shaken up about our close call with that Brinks truck. Hell, we’re all pretty shaken up.

Tomorrow I’m hoping we can make a hundred kilometers or better. It’s wishful thinking but right now that’s all we’ve got.

***

We crossed Bearspaw Dam Road. We were far enough from built-up areas that I decided it would be safe to go hatches up – but only after we’d circled one another to do a visual inspection for cling-ons. Not the Star Trek ones.

I decided to poke my head up first to have a look around; carefully opening my hatch door after Cruze gave me the all clear. The first thing I noticed was the slightly fresher air. The stench of death and decay was more pronounced in the center of the city; on the outskirts it simply lingered, like when you catch a whiff of road-kill skunk from about three miles up the highway.

According to my map, we were at least a thousand meters from Lynx Ridge – a collection of million-dollar homes on one acre lots with expensive views of the river valley. Our vehicles were exposed, being on low ground, but ahead were foothills that rolled out before me like a carpet. We’re safely outside the city now, but only by inches on a map, and there was still that army of monsters splashing through the swift-moving current of the Bow River somewhere behind us.

I glanced at my watch. We had about an hour of daylight left and my carrier had already burned half a tank of fuel. I didn’t want anyone setting foot outside once darkness fell, so it was on me to identify a relatively secure spot on the map, with an easy way out in case we wound up getting swarmed.

“Okay,” I said into my radio. “It all looks clear from my vantage point. It’s safe to go hatches up, but I think we should all be carrying our personal weapons and keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks like the tiniest of threats.”

“Roger that,” Cruze replied, as our carrier slowed down to a crawl. I glanced down to see Doug Manybears flip open his hatch and take a huge gulp of fresh air.