“I don’t mean to discourage that line of thought,” Sam said, “but it could be the vehicles backed up miles from the crossing could still be blocking the road after the people are zombified or starve to death and we couldn’t even get near the crossing. Seems like there’s a negative for every solution we come up with.”
JR grunted and nodded glumly.
An hour and a half later, they entered Kalispell. No lights or other signs of electric power were visible since leaving Seeley Lake. Most businesses were closed or appeared abandoned. The town listed as having a population of 22,052 looked practically deserted.
A gas station with diesel was open and pumping fuel. They waited in line behind seven other vehicles. An emergency generator roared in the distance as it provided power to the pumps and minimal lighting. Sam first inquired about water in the fuel tanks and was assured it was checked several times a day and pumped off even when only a trace of water was found. Before he turned on the pump, the owner adamantly refused any amount of US dollars. Sam finally struck a deal to trade the man one of the handguns and a box of ammunition he took from the six thieves near Herreid, South Dakota, for enough fuel to fill the tank they’d been running on.
Before leaving the area, they checked the map again. They questioned how difficult the rest of their trek to Northern Idaho might be and what surprises they could find when they arrived there. Sam longed for the internet to be able to gather information on any subject in minutes.
They continued through Kalispell on Route 2. A highway information sign indicated twenty miles to Marion, Montana. The area was hilly and heavily forested. Passing through Marion they noted the lack of electrical power and no services were available. Five miles after leaving Marion, a sign indicated Charlie's Place was a half mile ahead. They pulled in to use the restrooms because a lighted OPEN sign was on. The front door was open, and lights were on at the two gasoline pumps. A sign out front said it was a general store/gas station with lumber and building supplies. Sam remarked to JR about a long shed roof to the left and behind the store where lumber and other building supplies were stored out of inclement weather.
Before going into the store, they checked the maps and noticed the area they were in seemed less densely populated with small towns than the thin neck of Northern Idaho where small communities abounded. JR said, “It does look like a sparsely populated remote area. Let’s talk to whoever’s inside about what’s around here.”
As they walked Sam said, "Eventually the zombies will infiltrate every human community, even those with less than ten people. I firmly believe we need to be isolated by ourselves in a remote area. I don't know if they hear us, see us, smell us, or sense we're around, but I'm guessing the fewer humans who are in a group the harder we'll be to find."
J.R. added, "It must be some sort of sensing. At Seely Lake, I shot one whose face was shot away; it had no eyes, but it hobbled straight at me with both arms extended as if it knew exactly where I was. When I side stepped three feet it turned and followed me."
Only a few dim lights showed inside the store. The fuel pumps only dispensed two grades of gasoline. No diesel. He heard a small engine steadily humming in the distance behind the store and guessed it was a generator. Power was off at all the other close by businesses they’d passed. The buildings in those towns probably depended on the West Coast power grid. According to an over the road trucker they spoke to several hours earlier, the entire West Coast electrical grid was down. He opined maintenance craftsmen and operations personnel were leaving those areas or turning into zombies when attacked.
They entered to shop and use the toilet. The owner introduced himself as Charlie Dugal. Mid-sixties, five feet, eight inches tall, trim, athletic, full head of brown hair speckled with gray, and a trimmed bicolored beard. Charlie stepped outside to start a bigger generator and then turned on more lighting for his customers while he talked nonstop. “I’m leaving for Canada in the morning. Going about eight miles north of Fortine on a dirt road where I'll have about a five mile hike to cross the border on foot. I’ve done it several times previously when I was younger. Before the phones went down, I spoke to a good friend who lives in Calgary, Alberta. She’ll meet me across the border in three days. Then we’ll go north to her remote cabin above Edmonton, British Columbia. She said it’s well stocked with all the supplies we’ll need for at least a year.” As he talked, Charlie gathered the minimal supplies to take along in a backpack. “I’ll set out before dawn tomorrow morning in my Jeep Cherokee. I can only take what I can carry because I'll leave the Jeep behind and hike to the border on foot.”
JR warned him, “Several days ago, we were told the border was shut down and Canadian Army soldiers were stationed at all border crossings. Your bigger threat is civilians guarding stretches between the designated crossing points. The civilians were said to be shooting migrants on sight.” She excused herself to use the restroom.
“I’m not surprised,” Charlie said as JR stepped away, “the Canadians are as frightened of these damned zombies as we are. I’ll be wearing camo and go slow. In fact, now that I know about
