I really wish whoever built that damn wall was still around. We could use the help.
We are still in Marion right now, having finally gotten to the church where my family has take refuge. It took a long time to get here. The zombies in Marion are thick, extremely so. We had to try several routes to find one that was at all navigable, and even then we had to fight our way through so many zombies that we eventually had to stop to sleep. The bus is pretty secure from them, but enough bodies in the way will stop pretty much any vehicle.
Right now Jackie is getting the kids settled in. Dave threw up a few more pieces of sheet metal he had strapped to the roof. We don't want to take any chances, so the armored area is boxed in, reinforced, and should be thick enough to stop rifle rounds. I can't imagine that we will be able to avoid armed and probably violent people.
The trip to Carterville should be a short one, though it seems pretty likely that the roads will be further packed with zombies. They tend to fill in any gaps when you mow a bunch of them down. Route thirteen is sure to have some surprises in store; to expect anything else would be optimism bordering on stupidity. If we have to, we can take alternate routes there as well. It helps to be from this area.
When we get there, it's going to be up to Steve and me to do any searching on foot that may be needed. Dave will join Jess on the roof, covering us with rifle fire if needed, while Pat will be manning the steering wheel for a quick exit. Jackie and her husband will be wrangling their kids. That's a job, let me tell you.
We're ready to go. I hope that we do find some people, and that we can keep ourselves safe if or when we do. It's a lot more dangerous here than back home. Not only is there virtually no rise or fall to the land, which keeps us in near constant sight of zombies, but I think the same folks that built that wall of junk are also responsible for all the damn traps we keep finding. It is slightly amusing, in a dark way, to see a zombie get caught in a snare and get hung up by the ankle, or stumble into a pungee pit. It's sobering to realize that we could easily fall prey to them as well.
Off we trot. Next stop, Carterville, Illinois. Population: 3,600. Survivors: ????