The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (168 page)

In a half hour, I could just make out a sign ahead, and a clearing on the left.  I squinted to read it.  “
Railroad Park,” I said.  “Right there.”

For some reason, everyone hoisted their guns into the ready position.  I saw Lola’s hand go to her knife.

We crossed the highway, walked around an overturned Airstream trailer, and all ignored the growls coming from within the silver wreck.

For now we searched for the living.  The dead could tell us nothing, and we knew they could wait.

They
would
wait.  Forever.

*****

We made our way up the road, and on the way, nothing lurched from the trees or came at us on the road.  We were armed to the teeth, and anything or anyone with a functioning brain would likely not stick around if they saw us coming.

A couple of times we heard rustling in the trees, but we already knew this was deer country, so there was other wildlife, too.  We knew it could be the walking dead, but it could also be a frightened doe or buck.

“Looks like that was done on purpose,” Serena said as we approached a short bridge with low side railings.  A bus was on its side, and extended from rail to rail, blocking both lanes.  With the zombies’ lack of coordination, not to mention their distinct lack of critical thinking skills, it would bunch them up at the very least, should they be following scents to the Railroad Park Resort.

“Look over there,” said Nelson, pointing.  There was a footbridge off to the left.  “Guess that’s how they go across.”

“Good idea,” I said.  “Blocking off the main road.  Zombies wouldn’t look for an alternate path.”

I turned around and walked back, searching the grounds on the side of the bridge.

I saw what looked like a pathway beyond where I stood, but no entrance to it.  Rachel and Nelson came up beside me, and Rachel swept aside a large plant, and there it was.

“Smart,” I said.  “Hide the path by letting the plants grow up around it.”

“This must mean people are here, like you thought,” said Nelson.

“Friendly people?” asked Lola, pulling out her Bowie knife.

“Keep that handy,” Rachel said.  “Never know these days.”

“Okay,” I said.  “Let’s go in, but maybe we should keep our voices down unless we see anyone.  Who knows what’s gone on here over the last year.”

“They could be having battles for food and stuff,” said Nelson.  “Being where these guys are, the local supplies have to be either exhausted or pretty near gone, anyway.”

I turned and looked at Nelson, who sounded nothing like he had when he’d chased us down on the scooter and asked us if he could join us.  “We’re going to sit down, you and me,” I said to him.  “I feel like I’ve got Hemp with us, only with longer hair and no British accent.”

Nelson shrugged and smiled, but said nothing.

We approached a clearing, and much of the park became visible.  From where we stood, we could see eight or nine railroad cars, a large sign that said LODGE, and some light poles.

“There!” whispered Lola.  “Someone just disappeared around that Great Northern Railway car.  The green one.”

“I can still see their feet,” said Nelson, pointing.  “About mid-car now.”

I nodded.  The railroad cars, which did look like cabooses, were lined up on the perimeter, placed far enough apart to provide privacy to the vacationers. 

Now that we were in, we could see the occupants had put up about an eight-foot, chain link fence around the property.  There were fire pits and clothes lines, but nobody else moved except the person Lola had caught sight of.

“I’ll bet they had sentries,” said Serena.  “Maybe using radios.  Could be that everyone took cover when they reported us.”

“I would,” I said.  “It makes sense.  If we’d had our radios on, we might have caught the warning.”

“That last one in could’ve been the lookout,” said Nelson.

“I say we walk on in and just go knock on the car,” said Rachel.  “We’re armed, and there’s not too many windows in the cars.  We should have an advantage if we avoid the windows we do see.”

I shrugged.  “Standing here’s not going to get us any farther.”

We started walking.  All of our guns held out, we walked across the bridge over the small canyon that likely accommodated the runoff from melting snow on
Mount Shasta in the spring and early summer.  Beneath it ran a moderately sized creek with crystal clear water bubbling over smooth, oval-shaped river rocks.

Rachel slipped into what seemed a natural role with her military training guiding her.  She tapped my radio.  “Channel 16.  Keep the volume very low, Dave.”

She split us into two groups once we reached the other side of the bridge.  Serena, Nelson and Lola moved left and ducked behind a Southern Pacific caboose, and Rachel and I went right, across the street. 

There were two windows on that side of the car, though, and we saw the curtains move inside the green car where we’d seen the feet moving.

Rachel and I ducked behind a large tree, then peered around it.  We watched the rest of our group cross the gravel road and approach the rail car from the front.

I heard the radio click and put it to my ear.  Rachel said, “Okay, run low to the car and stay beneath those windows.  They won’t be able to see you from inside.”

“I saw the curtains move,” I told her.

“Yeah, me too,” she said.  “Okay.  Go.”

We all ran at once, from two directions.  If they had been watching, they would not have known where to look.

Above our heads, we heard a sliding sound.

“For Christ’s sake,” a man’s voice said.  “We’ve got one gun and it’s out of ammo.  What do you want from us?”

I looked over at Rachel and shrugged.  “We’re not going to hurt anyone,” I said, my voice as calm and soft as I could manage.  “We’re here to find someone.  That’s it.”

“How do we know that?” the man’s voice came again.  It was cautious and nervous, and I instantly felt bad for the man connected to it.  He sounded defeated.

“My uncle goes by Bug,” I said.  “Brett Ulrich Gammon.  Big guy, kinda strange.”

“You’re Bug’s nephew?” the voice said.  “Have you seen him?”

I was confused.  I had just told him we were looking for my uncle.  “No, sir.  We’re here to find him.  We got here last night.”

“In that helicopter?” he asked.

“How did you know?”

“Sound carries out here,” he said.  “Shit sounded like a damned Boeing coming in.”

“Can we meet face to face?” asked Serena.  “How many of you are there?”

“Only twelve of us in this camp,” he said.  “I’m Russell Levenson.”

“Okay, Russell.  I’m Dave Gammon.  We’re coming around to the door and o
ur guns will be pointed downward.”

“Please don’t be lying to us,” he said.  “That would just take the cake after everything else.”

“My name’s Rachel Reed, and I’m former Air Force,” said Rachel.  “If I’ve got one thing going for me, it’s that my word is my bond.  I’ll vouch for the rest of these guys.  They found me along the way, and I’m glad they did.”

“
Okay, just two of you come up the steps, Rachel,” said Russell.  “You and Dave.  There are only four of us in here.  The others are in the other cars.  I’ll radio them that you’re okay once we confirm.”

“Fair enough,” I said.  I nodded to Serena and the others, and Rachel and I mounted the steps.  The curtain moved back, and I saw who I assumed was Russell.  He nodded and opened the door.

“Come on in,” he said.  “Please leave the guns on the porch for now, if you don’t mind.”

I looked at Rachel.  Knowing I still had the Walther in my waistband, I put the
AR-15 down, and she did the same.  We nodded at Russell.

“Thanks,” he said, standing aside.

We walked in to find a young girl who looked about ten years old, and what might have been a fourteen-year-old boy.  They were clearly siblings; their eyes were almost an identical hazel color, and their noses were shaped exactly like the one on the woman who stood behind Russell.

“So that was you we saw coming back inside?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I was fishing.  You guys scared the hell out of me.”

“Is this your family?” asked Rachel.

Russell nodded.  “My wife, Madeline – Maddie – and my kids, Hannah and Russ.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Maddie, smiling.  The look in her eyes told me she had not completely abandoned her suspicion, but I supposed it was to be expected.

“Hello,” said the girl.

“Hi,” said the boy, holding out his hand.  I shook it, noticing his red hair and freckles, just like Russell. 

“Nice to meet you, Russ,” I said.  He was about 5’7” tall, and very lean and muscular for his age.

I held out my hand to Hannah, and she hesitated.  I could see her eyes darting back and forth between all my tattoos and my hair and beard, and wondered what she was thinking of me.

“I’m harmless,” I said, smiling at her.  “Just ask any of the folks I’m with.”

She smiled and took my hand.  As we shook, I saw that she was very pretty, though her eyes were haunted and tired – pretty much how everyone on the planet was these days – and she was also ginger-haired, with freckles like her father and brother.  She wore dull, brown pants and a brown hoodie.

I stood there and stared.  I had not seen an entire family that had survived since it all happened.  I was amazed, but it made sense.  Two immune parents, two immune kids.  Luck and smarts allowed them to survive this long.

“Excuse me if I’m a little taken aback,” I said.  “You’re unique.”

“I’ll say,” said Rachel.

“I know,” said Russell.   “If you’re talking about an intact family, believe me, we’re the only one we know of.”

“We’re still blessed, amidst all this horror,” said Maddie.

“You are,” said Rachel.

“Mind if we let the others in?” I asked.  “I want you to meet them.  We’re just here to find my Uncle Bug, and if we can help you, we will.  Anything we can do.”

Russell nodded, but something else touched his expression, too, at the mention of my uncle.

Moments later, Nelson, Serena and Lola were inside, introduced, and relaxing in the chairs and on the couches.  The walls and ceilings were done in what appeared to be knotty pine wainscoting, highly polished and absolutely beautiful.  Several hurricane lamps with large candles lit the room with a dancing light that gave it a warm feeling.  A Queen-sized bed sat in the center, and the car felt larger inside than it had appeared from the exterior.  All in all, not a bad place to hole up during a zombie apocalypse. 

“Any fish in that creek?” I asked.

“Nice rainbow trout,” said Russell.  “I have four on a stringer down there, hanging in the water.”

“Sorry about that,” I said.  “We were playing things by ear, and we’ve been shot at once already on this trip.”

“They shot at your helicopter?”

“No, no,” said Serena.  “We were already down and walking to shelter.  They almost killed Nelson here,” she added.

Nelson withdrew the dented star from his shirt pocket – where I was sure it would now forever stay.  “Hit me right here,” he said.  “Lucky charm, now.”

Russell looked it over, and gave it back to Nelson.

“If you’re looking for Bug, you’re in for a disappointment,” Russell said.

I did not want to hear that.  “Why?” I asked.  “Is he … dead?”

“Nobody knows,” he said.  “Can’t get close enough to his place to find out.  You might have noticed a distinct lack of walking corpses around here.”

“We expected more,” said Lola.  “I did, anyway.  I was in a damned farm town and there were a few hundred.”

“There are more than that here in town,” said Maddie.  “I don’t know if you noticed from the air, but most of the town burned to the ground right after this started.  Lucky for us, the wind blew the fire off to the west.”

Maddie was very thin with dark brown hair, cut to her shoulders.  Her deep, brown eyes were sunken, too, with dark circles beneath them.  Her skin was dry, and her hands looked like those of a farmer’s wife.

“Then we got a good rainstorm, and it put it out.  Saved a lot of food in town, but most of that’s gone.  We’re on a diet of mostly fish that we catch.  Some game, if we get lucky.  And creative.”

“What do you mean, creative?” asked Lola.

“No ammo,” said Russell.  “Used up most of it right off trying to kill those biters.”

“Russell’s killed his share,” said Maddie.  “So have I.  Most of them are still up and moving though, over at Bug’s place.”

“I’m glad they’re there and not here,” said the boy.

“I know, son,” said Russell, squeezing his boy’s shoulder.

I was confused.  “Why are they concentrating at my uncle’s place?”

“Because over a hundred people headed up there and broke into his place right after this all started,” said Russell.  “They cut his locks and got into his ground-floor storage and shut themselves in.  We were there, but it was too much.  We all decided to take our chances here.”