"And why are you staying?" Sergeant Tejadaasked.
"I don't know that I want to head through the cityjust yet, that's all," the kid replied.
That wasn't all. Sergeant Tejada knew fear when hesmelled it, and this boy stank of it. It was understandable. The justice of thenew world had a way of shattering one's illusions. Maybe he figured he would besafer off with the military. Maybe he would. "And how long are youplanning on sticking with us, kid?"
"As long as I can," I suppose.
"Or until something better comes along,"Sergeant Tejada smiled. "I get it." Sergeant Tejada turned to theother survivors, six of the sorriest looking mugs he had seen in some time. Hemight as well be looking at six Annies. He sucked air through his teeth andthen said, "Before you go, I'd like to give you something. Followme."
He turned smartly on his heel and marched to the trunk ofone of the abandoned cars. The lock had been punched out by the screwdriver ofone of his soldiers some time ago. Now it was held closed by a small length ofmilitary-grade rope. He undid the knot, his rough hands making short work ofit, and lifted the trunk. Inside, he had his men store all of the survivors'weapons and provisions, what little they had brought with them.
Lou stepped up and looked inside smiling. "It's allthere."
"Of course it is. Me and my men can fend forourselves, we don't need to be taking stuff from women and men like yourselves.I just wanted to make sure you guys were alright before I gave them back toyou. Plus, it prevented any chance of a stray bullet flying around and takingout one of my men. Help yourself, and go with our blessing."
The survivors crowded around and began pulling theirsupplies and weapons out of the trunk. He watched as the girl, Amanda, grabbedthe big man's things, opened it up, checked the functionality of an inhaler,and then slung the bag over her soldier. The cowboy pulled his rifle out andlooked at it the way a certain Sergeant Tejada had once looked at a miss EmilyRodriguez, but that was a long time ago. Then the cowboy reached inside thetrunk one more time and pulled out a small handgun.
He held it out to Amanda and said, "Here. It's yoursnow."
Amanda looked at the gun and shook her head. "Idon't want Chloe's gun."
The cowboy turned to her, grabbed her hand, and wrappedit around the handle of the handgun. "You killed the owner. Now it's timeto take responsibility."
It was a hard sentiment, but Sergeant Tejada didn't fullydisagree with it.
Lou pulled Sergeant Tejada to the side by the elbow andthen said, "Thank you for this. We appreciate it. At first, we didn't knowwhat to expect. Things at the Coliseum weren't the best. Not everyone therewas... like you, I guess."
Sergeant Tejada slapped Lou on the shoulder and laughed,"There aren't a lot of people out there like me."
"No, I guess not," Lou laughed. He held out hishand, and Sergeant Tejada shook it. "Well, I guess this is goodbye,"he said.
"Don't count on it," Tejada replied. "Ihave a feeling we'll see each other again. Like the girl said, guarding thisbridge is suicide. When that boy of yours wakes up, we may just follow in yourfootsteps."
Lou just nodded. "Sounds good."
The survivors loaded up their gear, and with the sunstill low on the horizon, they took their first steps down the Burnside Bridgeand into the west side of Portland. The buildings that were left standingjutted up out of the ground like the jagged teeth of a dislocated lower jaw.
Chapter 12: Parking Garage of the Dead
When they reached the west side of the Burnside Bridge,they immediately took a narrow stairwell that led down to the floor of thecity. Lou was in the lead. Blake and Mort picked up the rear, and the threewomen, Katie, Joan, and Clara filled in the middle. Lou moved as he had seenZeke do. He watched where he stepped, moving heel to toe, gliding forward hisgun in his hands.
Not all of their weapons had made it with them. Some hadbeen broken in the jump from the office building, some had never made it to theback of the truck. Only Mort's hammer, Lou's machine gun, Katie's handgun, andBlake's rifle had made the journey. When Lou had checked the magazine on hismachine gun, he found a full clip, another gift from Sergeant Tejada. Clara andJoan carried blunt instruments that might repel a lone zombie, but which wouldmake them dead meat if they had to actually fight to survive. Lou didn't thinkthey had the arm strength to put down any of the dead with sticks and chunks ofrebar.
Finding weapons was a priority, but not as big of apriority as getting out of the city. Once they were out and into the suburbs,weapons would be more readily available. Hell, maybe there were even someliving people out there. The more the merrier.
They walked along the MAX tracks, picking them up againwhere they wound their way through the heart of downtown. The streets werequiet, eerily so. Every once in a while, Lou would think he saw something outof the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there would be nothingthere. He figured there should be dozens of the things in the streets. Thegunfire from the bridge should have drawn them like bees to honey. Maybe therewere less of them on this side of the river than he thought. Maybe all thenoise at the Coliseum had pulled them across the river.
He decided to stop thinking about it. The reason whydidn't matter. It was just another stroke of luck that worked in their favor,just like the truck and the military men on the bridge. It was best to notthink about it. He moved forward, his muscles tense to the point where he couldbarely stand it anymore.
Behind him, the others walked silently. They felt likethey were walking through a ghost town. They had gone a full city block beforethey saw the first of the dead, wandering aimlessly down the middle of thestreet. It
