I do have a plan B. I thought of it last night in case something like happened. I had foolishly not thought it would though, I was too optimistic. My Dad always says, hope for the best, but have a back up plan and I had done that, but the problem is, I really, really, really don't want to do it. Just the idea of it fills me with dread.
I need to get off the road right now, or field as it is, and find some shelter, away from these peoples searching eyes and wait for nightfall. The darkness will provide the cover I need to get closer to Louisville- unfortunately it will also cloak the zombies and I won't know if I'm walking into a whole herd of them until its too late. It's a damned stupid, miserable idea, and if Silas knew he would probably shoot me dead himself, but no matter which way I've looked at the problem, this is the only solution I can think of.
I look around and scan the area, I really can't just stand here like I've magically sprouted roots; or worrying about the zombies after dark will be a moot point anyway. There are a few houses up ahead, and I want to keep going in the same direction if I can help it, so I aim for them. I stop and listen to make sure I don't hear the droning of an engine coming around again, and when the coast seems clear, I take off at a run. The less time in this field, the better.
I'm not sure if it's the smartest idea to run, after all, I could be mistaken for a zombie out here and overlooked, but zombies don't move this quickly. On the other side of that coin, I could also be mistaken for a zombie out here and shot. I'm damned if I do, and I'm damned if I don't- I could even NOT be mistaken for a zombie out here and shot. The fear pumping through my heart with each squeeze of blood makes the decision easier for me- my natural instincts are telling me to run, so I do.
I run until I can barely breath, and I keep pushing myself. The backpack slaps heavy against my back with every footfall, but I ignore it. I aim for the closest building and don't slow down until I see the shadowy figure emerge from the trees as I get closer.
At first, I think it's one of those people from the vehicles, and I actually breath a sigh of relief when I figure out from its uneven gait that its just a zombie. Just a zombie, the irony is not lost on me. I pull my axe free from my pack and slow to a fast walk as I get closer. The zombie takes another step forward, or tries to, but she doesn't seem to be moving.
I squint and try to make out what exactly is happening, and it appears that the zombie is caught on a tree, like it tried to walk through a tree that was growing from the same base but split about waist height into two trunks and the zombie isn't smart enough to go around. I give a quick thank you to the heavens for that one.
The zombie is snarling and snapping and clawing at the tree that's snagged it around the waist as I walk up with my axe, and I channel some of my frustration into my swing, and the females head practically explodes with the force of my hit- she must have been pretty decomposed. I watch the zombie collapse, still caught in the fork of the tree and then pull my axe loose and use the gory end to poke her backwards so she isn't hanging where someone might see her and know a human like me came through here. She falls back into the trees with a soft thud and I carefully scan the bushes for anymore of the dead.
The trees surrounding the property are thick and even though I don't really like the forest-like setting, I keep going, its good cover from the road. I walk for another five minutes, at first thinking I might take shelter in one of the buildings, but I'm not really sure if it's a safe idea, when a wooden ladder nailed to one of the thick tree trunks catches my attention- I almost didn't even see it.
I look up a good ten feet, or so, to a treehouse high in the branches. It definitely looks like it's seen better days, but it might just be the solution I've been needing. I haven't been in a treehouse in probably eight years or more, and I'm not the biggest fan of heights, but a treehouse that high will be zombie proof. I test the ladder and despite the wood feeling a bit soggy and slick with moss, it seems to be securely attached to the tree.
I start to climb, but I don't make it very far before the weight of my backpack starts to slowly pull me backwards. My fingers can't find good enough grip to avoid it and I allow gravity to work its course and jump down. I once mocked Silas for the rope that he carried around in his backpack, unnecessary weight, I think I called it, but it really has come in handy these last couple of days.
I pull out a coil of rope and tie one end around the strap of my backpack and the other end, I tie around the leather holster at my waist, just so I won't drop it while I'm using both hands to climb. I could have put it in my mouth I guess, but I've never been a fan of fabric touching my teeth, and who knows what kind of zombie gore has touched this rope in the past. The thought makes a shiver run down my spine just thinking about it.
I start climbing again with more determination and feel a small bloom of excitement as I pass the rung that previously made me fall off. I'm terrified I'm going to fall, especially once I get up high enough to cause injury, but I'm just being a chicken, the climb isn't bad. I reach the top, just as I start to feel the rope going tight. The resistance pulling at my hip has me gripping the ladder so hard my knuckles turn white.
It's one of those tree houses that you come up through a hole in the floor and once my head and shoulders get through, I feel comfortable enough to let go of the ladder and rest my back against the wood as I start tugging the backpack up- the rope isn't going to let me get any higher without dragging it up.
It's a struggle to fit the backpack through the opening while I'm still halfway through, but I don't want to risk it falling to the ground and the pressure on the rope tugging me down with it. I'm sweaty by the time I finally pull myself up onto the floor, a mixture of exertion and fear, and I lay on my belly with my cheek resting on the cold, damp wood for a few minutes giving myself a breather.
I start to feel foolish and pull myself to my feet, just because I know a zombie can't be up here, and it's literally just a one room tree house, doesn't mean I should be so lax with my safety. I pull my gun out, just to be on the safe side, even though I feel like, if anyone was in here, they would have already made their presence known while I was helpless and sprawled out on the floor.
The tree house doesn't have a door, just a crooked frame with some rusty hinges clinging to the edge that looks like it had a door at some point. I poke my head inside cautiously and then relax. A two second glance, and I can see it's empty. It's a little bit grim looking with the weathered wood and dried up leaves dusting the floor, but it is probably the safest place I can be right now. I wince at my own bravado and then swiftly reach out to knock on wood- there's an abundance of the stuff around here, and better safe than sorry, even though I'm not usually superstitious -I can use all the luck I can get these days.
I drop my backpack in the corner and bend down to examine a small, weather damaged stack of comic books. It forms a heavy pit in the bottom of my stomach, and I try very hard not to think about what happened to the boy that used to play up here. I'm not hungry, but I know I need to keep up my strength and there's really nothing else to do anyway, so I dig in my bag and pull out a handful of fruit snacks. Then a protein granola bar when I start to feel a little guilty about all the empty calories and sugar. Not that I'm worried about gaining weight anymore, I could probably use a good twenty pounds added to my frame, but I'm feeling guilty about Silas and I really want to leave some to share with him when I rescue him.
I fiddle with the binoculars a bit, and get them all adjusted in for my eyesight, but there isn't anything to look at here but trees. I give it up after a short time and study the map instead. I have no idea where I am though, so it's not really doing me any good to look at it. I try and guesstimate how far I walked today, but I don't think I could have covered more than two or three miles before I was forced to stop.
I'm feeling restless after I sit for another hour, so I decide to go poke around a bit below. I need to map my route out of these trees before it's pitch-black and I don't dare turn on my flashlight. I leave the backpack in the tree house but toss my axe down to the ground below before I start to descend the ladder. It's becoming my weapon of choice when I can't risk the noise of firing my gun, but I don't want to try carrying it down the ladder with me in case I fall and impale myself.
I make it to the ground and pick up my axe, then start walking in a straight line towards where I think the house should be, I can't see the peak of the roof anymore from inside the trees. It's a five-minute walk, in which every crunch of leaves and twigs has me spinning in all directions nervously, but then I reach the edge of the trees finally without incident. I stay back in the shadows as my eyes scan the yard. It's a small, white house that doesn't look occupied and it has an unattached garage sitting beside it. My eyes take in the deck furniture and the fire pit, and all the colorful planters that must have been full of blooms in the summer. It makes me a little wistful- none of us will probably ever have another summer like that again.
Then I see the bike leaning up against the side of the garage. It's a dark colored mountain bike and I stare at it for a long moment considering. Riding a bike in the dark is probably not the best idea, but it will be a hell of a lot faster than walking and a bike could outdistance a zombie much more quickly than I could run. I also would have a lot more stamina peddling than I would have running.
If I take the bike, I will have to stick to the road, but even if the scouts are out at night, the vehicles will have headlights that will show up well before they can see me, and I can get off the road. Walking through the fields in the dark has its own dangers, I could twist my ankle on a piece of uneven ground, a hole, or even trip and fall on a rock, and it's not like the field is safe from the zombies either- that mental image helps me to decide and solidify my new plan.
I scan the yard for a full ten minutes, wishing I had brought the binoculars with me, and not left them sitting uselessly on top of the backpack. "Just do it." I urge myself under my breath, and I find talking to myself helps. Finally, I dart out of the trees and march right across the yard towards the bike. No one takes a shot at me, or rushes out and tries to bite me, but I still keep a wary eye out as I near the bike and reach out to test each of the tires. The tires are thankfully still firm, I have no idea how I would have filled them up if they had been flat.
I wheel the bike back towards the trees and it's not an easy task with all the random branches laying around and the roots that are poking out through the dirt floor. I don't take it very far anyway. I want to leave it, out of sight of the farm yard, but not so close that if someone starts walking through the trees its going to stick out like a sore thumb and raise suspicion being leaned up against the ladder of my tree house.
I leave the bike just a few feet into the treeline and push it underneath a small Christmas tree looking tree that still has all it's lush green branches to hide it. I stare at it assessing before giving up. It will either still be there later when I need it, or it wont. This is the best I can do. I make my way back to the treehouse easily enough and climb up the ladder without half the trouble this time.
I eat another granola bar and then boredom starts to set in again. I really should sleep but knowing what I have coming up as soon as the sun sets, I don't think I could sleep a wink. I reach into my bag and pull out a book that I've been keeping from that pharmacy where we almost died, and then got separated and I ended up meeting Silas. There never really seems to be enough time to sit down and enjoy a good book in the zombie apocalypse; I snicker at the thought. I actually haven't ready anything in months though. It's a little startling because I used to read a couple novels a week, but not really that surprising considering everything that's been going on.
I pop the book open, and at first its difficult to get into the story. I have too much swirling around in my brain, but I persistently keep reading the words and turning the pages and it doesn't take long before I'm transformed from this crappy tree house to Regency era London, and the romance between a duke and a young miss from the country, in town for her first season.
I don't even notice the time passing until the light begins to dim, and I have to squint harder at the words on the page. Finally, I give it up and close my book with regret. It's show time, and the thought fills me with dread. I tuck the book carefully inside my bag and send up a silent prayer that I actually live long enough to finish reading it.