Marseilles was a lot like Seneca and we had a pleasant conversation with a couple of teenagers who were at the river when we passed. The town looked like most river towns, small homes with a few larger ones back in the hills. The thing that Seneca had separating it from others was the tall earthen mound that seemed to surround the town. When I inquired about it, I was told that since Seneca was a holding place for highway construction equipment, they had no trouble creating a defensive barrier, especially considering what had happened to Ottowa. They didn’t elaborate further, telling me I would see when I got there, in typical teen fashion. They promised to tell their leaders about us and would hopefully see us when we came back since we had “kick-ass” gear.
Charlie and I were left to ponder this information as we moved farther down the river. The sun was sinking lower and if I had to guess, it was roughly three or four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was starting to become a problem on the water, as it was making it more difficult to see where we were going. When the sun dipped lower, we would be lucky if we didn’t hit something. There was plenty of debris in the river and thus far Charlie had been able to steer clear, but if we hit something and lost the boat, we had a long swim back home.
As we got closer to Ottowa, Charlie spotted a dock sticking out into the river. Not one to ask a gift horse to open wide, I suggested we moor there for the night and head out first thing in the morning. It would give us a chance to stretch our legs and walk on dry land for a bit.
As Charlie steered us close, I jumped off the boat and tied us up at the dock. The dock was a serious structure and I noticed a concrete reinforced pylon which I assumed would have been used to keep the barges from taking out the dock. Interesting, but it still didn’t explain why the dock was there.
Charlie and I walked along the pier and followed a service road until we could see where we were. On our left was a farm and on the right looked like a power plant or manufacturing plant. I didn’t have any desire to figure out what it was and Charlie didn’t either. If no one wanted this place, it would eventually crumble into decay. Most places would be like that, I guessed. We simply did not have the people left to bring things back to exactly the way they were. A lot of places would have to be abandoned. Maybe if we survived another twenty years, humans could make a comeback and use what we left behind. All speculation at this point. We had to survive those years, first.
Charlie pointed towards the plant and I could see movement around the doors. A lone figure was walking out of the building and even at that distance, I could see the telltale shambling walk of a zombie. I shook my head sadly, realizing this area had been hit by the infection as well.
“We’ve come so far, I kind of hoped we would have found an area that the infection didn’t touch.” Charlie said, echoing my thoughts.
“No such luck,” I said, turning back to the dock. “The infection touched everything, one way or the other.” To emphasize my point, four more came strolling out of the building.
We moved back the way we came and rounded a grove of trees, blocking us from the sight of the zombies. With luck, they would lose interest and go wander off and chase a bug or something.
We went back to the boat and untied one of the mooring lines, letting the boat drift along until the second line went taut, keeping us tied, but safe from attack. We were about thirty yards from the pier and safe in deep water.
Charlie and I passed the time cleaning our weapons and arguing which kung-fu movie was best. As the sun dipped below the horizon, we settled in to sleep.
29
In the morning, I got a nasty surprise. I stepped out of the cabin to stretch and I found myself faced with about fifteen zombies. They were standing on the pier and when they saw me they raised a ghoulish chorus that echoed across the water. Much to my dismay, I heard an answering chorus downriver. Charlie came out of the cabin with his gun ready, but I pushed it down. The zombies were just standing on the pier, but they clearly wanted to get to us. I thought it was interesting that they retained enough intelligence to recognize water. I told Charlie to start the motor and when he was ready, I would cut the line.
Charlie started the engine and at the sound, the zombies became more agitated. One fell into the river and drifted dangerously close until he finally sank under the surface. The boat eased forward and when there was slack in the line, I quickly severed it and Charlie slewed the boat around, taking us away from the dock of the undead.
As we approached Ottowa it was easy to see that the city had been hit hard. Given its proximity to the interstate, I really wasn’t that surprised. What did surprise me was the crowds of zombies standing along the edge of the river. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, and they were standing wherever they could. The bridge spanning the water was packed with zombies as well and they were held in place by a huge pile of debris. If it was twenty feet high, it was an inch. As we moved underneath the bridge, I could see movement on the south side of the river. I looked closely and saw living people. I waved a hand in greeting and they tried to wave me over, but I shook my head. “We’ll be back,” I said, the words sounding unnaturally loud over the stillness of the morning. The zombie crowd took up a moaning that rebounded off the cliffs and hills. If there was a zombie within a mile, they heard that undead song.
We sped away and headed downriver and I was getting anxious to reach the state park. Starved Rock got its name from the legend that a group of Indians had become trapped on the top of the formation by enemy Indians and they subsequently starved to death. In later years, the rock formation was home to a French fort, named Fort St. Louis which was placed there to protect French trading interests in the region. The rock was home to a hotel and after that it became a state park. A number of trails wound their way through the hills and limestone cliffs and it was not uncommon to find a waterfall or two feeding the river from forgotten streams. A lodge had been built on the cliff overlooking the river during the CCC days of the Great Depression and a visitor center had been erected in recent years to educate the tourists about the history and wildlife of the area.
In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I was going to find my brother. For all I knew, he had moved on, figuring me for dead. But I needed to at least try and that was the point of this journey. I decided to put the boat in at the far end of the park and we would work our way through the trails, making sure we didn’t miss anything. Just because my brother said he was going to be at Fort St. Louis didn’t mean he was going to sit on top of a rock until I showed up.
We brought the boat into a small inlet and beached it. Charlie cut the engine and we jumped ashore, bringing the remaining mooring line to tie up to a tree. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were, since I didn’t have a map, but the good news was maps were all over the trails, letting you know exactly how far from your car you were. The vegetation was not yet full, as summer had a month to go before being in full swing, but it was still pretty greened over. The large trees bracketed the trail and brush reached in from the sides. Large ferns were growing and would eventually cover the ground. I could hear movement from small animals as we headed west, jumping out of our way, chattering their disapproval. The morning sunlight made the tops of the trees light up like they were on fire while the ground was still dark. We had to move through this and I was hoping we had arrived unnoticed.
We moved quickly along the river, our progress fairly silent, save for the occasional water dweller that dove for safety as we passed. Charlie nudged me as we went past a trail marker and said, “Something’s not right.”
I stopped and looked around. “What do you mean?” I said in a low voice.
Charlie scanned the area with his rifle and scope. “Something’s watching us.”
“Zombie?” I asked, raising my carbine.
“Don’t know. How much farther?”
I looked at the marker. “Maybe three quarters of a mile, maybe more.”
“Good. This is giving me the creeps,” Charlie said.
That made me nervous. Anything that could creep out a guy like Charlie who had seen and done the things he had, was something worth avoiding.
We moved forward, with our senses on higher alert. I could feel something out there as well, but I couldn’t get a read on what it was. I held my carbine low, ready to snap it up and fire in an instant. We moved quickly, but carefully. And all the while we checked all around us. I thought I saw a ghost of movement in the shadows down a trail to a canyon and brought my gun up, but didn’t see anything else.
Charlie saw my movement. “Anything?”
