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Texas Zombie Reporter: Tales of the Rio Grande	By : TheByronicMan Category: M through R > Newsflesh (trilogy) > Newsflesh (trilogy) Views: 1097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsflesh Trilogy or any of the related published works. I do not make any money from this story. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or living dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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I was awakened by gunfire at around 2am, must have been something, make that a lot of somethings, trying to cross the perimeter. I got out of bed and went over to a bank of monitors for the external cameras. Once I flipped them on, they displayed active infrared images of a group of human infected approaching the outpost. Looks like some of the remaining pack from Panther Junction got ambitious enough to follow me all the way out here. I pulled up a chair and a jacked my pocket computer into the system to record the images while I watched the sentry guns mow down the zombies. By the time the last one fell, a counter on the central monitor reported that 47 targets had been engaged. That meant that in the last ten hours, the Panther Junction pack had been reduced by nearly 50%. On that note, I returned to bed and slept another three hours.
Once I got up again, my bladder sent me hurrying to the bathroom. Fortunately, this place is equipped with sterilization toilets, though I understand the main reason is to avoid having to maintain a septic tank. Afterward, I found a tea kettle and filled it, setting it on the stove. While the water heated, I sent the video from last night to Bobbie and got my armor out of the laundry. After fixing a mug of tea sweetened with a healthy dollop of mesquite honey, I got out a jar of saddle soap and sat down to condition my armor. A sterilizing wash is tough on leather, requiring frequent care. After a few minutes, Bobbie pinged me to let me know she was awake, so I grabbed the headset out of my helmet and talked quietly with her while I worked.
Site traffic was way up, we were well on our way to cracking the top 10% of news blogs. She was getting bids from overseas for yesterday's zombie video, looks like this trip was paying for itself already. The wildflower video from yesterday afternoon was proving as popular as I expected, and there were a couple of nurseries asking if I could collect some seeds on the way home. Bobbie had our lawyer looking into the legality of it. Collecting wildflowers along Texas highways was illegal, but 385 had been officially decommissioned 20 years ago so it might be okay.
By the time I finished with my armor, the sky was getting light outside, so I went out to get my weapons from the sterilizer and a couple of boxes of .45ACP from the gun locker. When I went back inside, Anna was showing signs of stirring, so I figured I'd start some breakfast. Nothing spectacular, just field rations, but at least a couple of grades above the Meals Ready to Excrete that Anna had out in her truck. But I did have a can of frozen biscuits so I set them to baking in the oven. While I was doing that, Bobbie signed off to devote her full attention to our site. As I was fixing myself a second cup of tea, I heard the bathroom door open and shortly after Anna sat down at the table.
“Sorry,” I apologized, “I don't have any coffee.”
“Not a problem,” she replied, “I'll grab some out of my MREs.”
With that, she made a quick trip outside. By the time she returned, breakfast was ready and I joined her at the table. I buttered a couple of biscuits and spread some prickly pear jelly on them. Anna followed suit, and after taking a bite she exclaimed, “Wow! I need to pick up some of this on the way home.”
After a few more minutes, she took a deep breath and said, “Look, I'm sorry about how I acted last night.”
“Don't worry about it,” I assured her, “I've been there before, I know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I guess you have. But that was the first time I'd fired a gun anywhere but at the range. I've done field ops, but so far all the perps I've helped bust gave up without a fight.”
“Then you handled yourself pretty damned good yesterday,” I pointed out. “If you'd like, I can give you a copy of the video so you can show off to your buddies.”
She smirked. “I'd like that, thanks.”
“Speaking of showing off, the Park Service was none too happy about you impersonating one of their people, but after yesterday they want to name you an Honorary Park Ranger and use the video of us in action to get more support in Congress. They're always trying to get more of the parks cleared out.”
Anna thought for a moment, then said, “Fine by me, as long as they keep quiet for another week. This is my first and last undercover gig, I'm mostly an analyst. But I'm fully qualified for field ops, so they grab me when they need an extra body for a big bust.”
I suppressed a comment about grabbing her body and a lame pun about 'big bust'. It's dangerous to feed me straight lines like that.
After a few minutes she spoke up again, “So, are you and Miss Cardille planning to get married?”
“Eventually,” I replied. “Right now I'm still carrying some debt from starting up my career, and with the low life expectancy of my job I can't get life insurance. So for now I want to keep our finances as separate as possible, just in case.”
“I thought she was a partner in your website?”
“She is, by any standard other than legally. Technically, I operate as a sole proprietorship and she is my employee. Luckily, she's not inclined to file sexual harassment charges.”
“She doesn't seem to like me much,” Anna said, “And what's with calling NPS the 'Park Circus'?”
“She doesn't like any changes to the plan, especially when I'm in the field for this long,” I explained. “It's nothing personal, in fact she says you look pretty hot in a bikini.” Anna blushed all the way down to her cleavage at that. “Bobbie got the Park Circus thing from my dad, he spent most of his 20s working National Park concessions.”
“Ah,” she said. “So, what's the plan for today?”
“The Chisos Mountain Basin. Going to head up there, look around, hike some of the shorter trails, and spend the night.”
She shuddered, “I hear there are mountain lions along the trails.”
“It's possible. There might be a few still shambling around after a quarter of a century.”
The Rising had largely spelled the end of mammalian carnivores. Eating the meat of any other mammal meant ingesting live-state Kellis-Amberlee. Even in the smallest mouse, the virus goes live when it dies, there just isn't enough of a viral load or enough brain mass for it to amplify. The only surviving specimens are domestic pets or in zoos, where their diet can be controlled, their food either processed enough to kill the virus or taken from fish or poultry. Coyotes are the only known exception. Even though Kellis-Amberlee wiped out more than 95% of them that summer, some populations survived. Coyotes have always been amazingly adaptable, one of the very few species to thrive after the encroachment of western civilization. Their diet has always included birds, lizards, and even large insects, and somehow a few learned to avoid mammals entirely.
Omnivores have fared a little better, if their diet is primarily vegetation. Javelina seem to be doing pretty well, and there are some reports of small surviving populations of black bears. Both of those animals were native to Big Bend before the Rising, but I don't hold out much hope for the bears still being around.
After we finished breakfast and cleaned up, Anna asked, “Is there anything I can do to help prepare for the day?”
Remembering something Bobbie had asked for, I said, “Yes. I need to get a digital map of you so that Bobbie will have an easier time editing you out of the footage.”
I set up six of my field cameras in a circle around a clear section of floor, then took the chain from around my neck and handed it to her. I've got a transponder hanging from the chain that allows my cameras to stay focused on me.
“Here, put this on, then get in the middle and move around. Walk in circles, jog in place, stretch, do some jumping jacks, try to go through your full range of motion.”
I admit, I threw in the jumping jacks mainly for my own viewing pleasure. I sent a text to Bobbie to give her a heads up and sat down at the table to watch while I thumbed .45 rounds into my empty magazines. Once I was done with that, I carefully checked over my bangstick, then wrapped friction tape around the grip of my trident. Edged weapons are usually a bad idea when dealing with the infected. You generally don't want to be carrying anything that has contaminated blood on it, and if it has a sharp edge the danger is multiplied. My trident is designed to be as safe as possible. The two spikes on the side are dull, even the tips are slightly rounded, and they guard the edges of the blade in the center. They are set just far enough apart for the average human neck to fit between them, and the center blade nearly fills the space in the middle. The whole thing is forged in one piece so there are no crevices for blood to lurk except the tape on the grip, and that is designed to dissolve completely when submerged in a bleach solution.
Just as I finished, I got a text from Bobbie.
Ha! Jumping jacks? You're turning into a dirty old man before your time. You can tell her I've got enough, unless you want to watch a while longer. ;)
As much as I was enjoying the view, it was time to get this show on the road. I motioned for Anna to stop and she handed back my chain. I folded up my cameras and stowed them in my pack. After a bathroom break, we finished getting dressed, tidied up, shut off the lights and the swamp cooler, and went out to the vehicles.
“By the way,” I said, “If you find yourself that desperate for a bathroom again, let me know. I'll find a place to stop and let you use mine.”
“You have a toilet in that thing?” she asked. “That's convenient.”
“Hey, you can legally squat behind a bush if you have to. If I water a tree, it's at least a Class B misdemeanor, up to a felony if I do it in a populated area.”
“Oh yeah, your nephrotic K-A. I forgot about that.”
We got into our trucks and drove out, the guns automatically shutting down from the time the gate opened until we cleared the outer perimeter. I crunched over a couple of fresh bodies in the road. Well, fresh in the sense that they had been ambulatory earlier this morning. No telling how many years they'd been walking around dead. Once I got to the main road, I turned back towards Panther Junction. On reaching the visitor center, I could see that the pack was still pretty stirred up. Probably the most excitement they'd had in years. Too bad I didn't have time to stop and play today. Another three miles brought me to the turnoff for the Basin. I made the turn, driving across the desert towards the mountains. Anna stayed just within view behind me. The road climbed gradually at first, winding between the foothills. It got a bit steeper as it got to the mountains themselves, but not much. As we reached Panther Pass, the desert scrub gradually gave way to junipers, the evergreens growing more numerous as we reached the highest point on the road, more than a mile in altitude.
The descent was steep enough to require switchbacks, though the first one wasn't too bad. I still slowed down quite a bit, as the mountains tend to get more variety in their weather than the desert, and the road surface was in correspondingly worse shape. The Park Service assured me the road was passable, having sent out a plane last week to check it out. The Basin was at the top of their wish list. After the first hairpin turn, it was more than a quarter mile to the next, and just past the midpoint of that stretch of road was a small parking area. This was the trail head of the Lost Mine Peak trail, the next of the five trails I was contractually obligated to hike. I pulled in and parked, climbing into the back as I heard Anna's Ford pull in beside me. This was the most strenuous hike planned for this trip, so I opted for a lightweight Kevlar jacket and buckled on a pair of tough plastic shin protectors instead of my heavier armor. Reluctantly, I also left my bangstick and trident behind, opting for a metal-shod and -studded staff that would double as a walking stick. After a precautionary visit to the 'facilities' I climbed out onto what was left of the pavement and waved for Anna to join me. She appeared wearing her NPS jacket, thick jeans, sturdy boots, and bearing a holstered sidearm and slung submachinegun.
“Ranger Guillen,” I said, “Since you proved to be such a help yesterday, Bobbie says she's willing to do the extra work of cleaning up the video if you'd like to come along and back me up.”
“Sure, I could stand to stretch my legs a bit,” she replied. “I didn't get much of a briefing when they pulled me out of the Caverns, so could you give me a heads up on what to watch out for?”
“Should be all animals. A few years after the Rising, the Army stationed a couple of companies here in the mountains. They cleaned out all the two-legged infected and made a pretty good start on the critters, both living and dead. The idea was to use the lodge as a beachhead for clearing the rest of the park, but the plan was dropped when public opinion went against it,” I grimaced. “Deer should be the biggest danger. Javelina don't generally come this high up the slope. Some chance of coyotes, the army used animal carcasses to bait them close enough to kill and the last week they were here there were no coyote sightings. Still, some might have survived farther up in the mountains or wandered back in from the desert since then. Might possibly some of those mountain lions you were concerned about. There is a miniscule chance of black bears. We know the army didn't account for one of the females, and it was the right time of the year for her to be pregnant. So if she was pregnant, and if she and her offspring avoided eating anything but fruit, nuts, lizards, and birds, and if they didn't get bitten by infected deer before they could multiply, then maybe there might be some running, or shambling, around.”
“If there was just one female and maybe some cubs left, then how could...?” she trailed off. “Oh. A male cub. Ew.”
“That's supposed to be how the black bears were re-established in Big Bend about 50 years ago,” I explained, “A pregnant mama bear crossed the desert to get here before giving birth to a male cub.”
I remembered one more thing I needed to add, “It would be helpful if you could zigzag a bit on the straighter sections of the trail so that you don't block the same piece of scenery for too long. Makes it easier to fill in the image after editing you out.”
With that, I led the way to the trail, setting my helmet's GPS to guide me. I wouldn't need it much, this trail was one of many built by the Civilian Conservation Corps and it had held up fairly well. At the trail head, a rotting post leaned, bearing the rusted remains of a metal box and a section of heavy steel pipe with a slot in the top cap and a padlock hanging from the bottom. This was where hikers picked up trail guides, taking one from the box and dropping a quarter in the slot. Nothing but their own honesty prevented them from taking one or even all of them for free. It stood in mute testimony to the type of people who frequented Big Bend. I admit, the padlock belied the notion that all of them were quite so honest, but even then there was no need to make it secure enough to withstand someone with a few unobserved minutes and a hacksaw.
The first part of the trail was fairly straight, with shade from the junipers and increasing numbers of pinyon pines helping to keep the undergrowth to a manageable level. The few larger bushes that did manage to live in the trail just meant that Anna didn't have to think about zigzagging as she followed behind me. We were high enough in the mountains that the temperature was noticeably cooler than on the desert floor, and the walk was rather pleasant. As I stepped onto a patch of bare ground, I noticed an object in the trail ahead of me. A skull, and a rather large one. I'm not a zoologist, but it looked a bear skull to me, and seemed weathered enough to have been there for decades. It appeared we had found the missing black bear. Taking a close look around, I saw other bones scattered nearby, a few ribs, a thigh, some vertebrae. I'm only mostly certain it was a bear, no way I could tell if it was female, but there are people who could determine its sex, age, and how long it had been dead. Taking off my pack, I dug down to the bottom and uncased my 256 MP camera, swapping out the telephoto lens for a wide angle. I took detailed pictures of the bones I could find, carefully placing them back in the exact position I found them after I was done. Packing up the camera, I continued down the trail.
After about a mile, the ground rose more steeply, rising to the top of a ridge. Only a few scraggly trees clung to the slope, and we had our first unimpeded view of area. Down the other side of the slope was Juniper Canyon. It was on the outer rim of the mountains, but it was shaded due to being on the north side of the ridge, which combined with the runoff from infrequent rains allowed for lush vegetation. To the right was Casa Grande, the most famous and distinctive mountain in the park, dominated by the broad, tall, and steep upthrust of volcanic rock rising above its lower slopes. To the right of Casa Grande was the Basin, a wide valley ringed by the circle of mountain peaks. And across the Basin was the Window, a deep V-shaped notch in the mountain wall giving a view of the desert landscape beyond.
I paused for a moment, then turned to Anna and suggested, “This would be a good spot to take a break for a few.”
I picked a likely-looking rock and sat down, shrugging off my pack. Anna sat nearby, and we both looked out over the vista and took the opportunity to drink some water. After ten minutes I stood up again, putting on my pack and starting back up the trail. The trail mostly followed the top of the ridge, until it ran into another slope. Here the trail got very steep, a series of tight switchbacks climbing 600' in less than half a mile. The trail was cut into the rock, so it was still highly visible. But parts of it were covered by debris from higher up, making the going treacherous at some points. I was glad I brought the staff, and Anna wasn't too proud to accept a helping hand. Finally, we reached the top of another ridge, following it to the peak and the end of the trail. The view was spectacular. You couldn't really see for hundreds of miles, but it seemed that way. After standing quietly for a while, we started back down. For the most part, the return trip was easier, and we made good time. As we were about to descend back into the trees, movement in the sky caught my eye.
“Keep a close eye out,” I warned Anna, pointing to the vultures circling ahead of us.
They were above our path to the road. It might just be a dead squirrel that had caught their attention, but it could also be an infected animal. Zombies don't decay after amplification, but a turkey vulture has an amazingly sensitive nose and can smell a potential meal within minutes of its death. Flocks of them circling often indicate the presence of a zombie or even a pack. I've occasionally thought about how confusing it must be for them to find something that smells like food but is still walking around. We proceeded cautiously, watching all around us. Bobbie let me know that she was running the camera feeds through a program that highlights anomalous motion.
After another quarter mile, Bobbie's voice whispered in my ear, “Check your 10 o'clock.”
I looked to my left and saw him through the trees. He was dressed in hiking clothes, and moving quickly towards us. He was far fresher than I would have expected to find around here. I pointed him out to Anna and motioned her to stay back as I activated and dropped a field camera and went to meet him.
I blew sharply into my mike to let Bobbie know to start recording the audio, and put on my Irwin voice. “Well folks, Big Bend is still a popular destination after all. Look, a fellow hiking enthusiast is coming over to say 'hello'.”
As the zombie approached I reached out as though to shake his hand. When he lunged for me, I spun aside, putting the end of my staff in his path so that he tripped over it and sprawled face down on the trail.
“I'm sorry, that was terribly clumsy of me. Let me give you a hand,” I said, then tucked the staff into the crook of my elbow and applauded him as he clambered back to his feet.
He turned towards me and reached out with both arms. I planted the foot of my staff in his chest to hold him back, saying, “Take it easy fella, you're an attractive man and all that, but I don't swing that way.”
He moved to the side to get at me, and I circled to keep him at bay. A single zombie isn't very bright, so he kept trying the same tactic, with a continued lack of success. Somehow he found some extra speed, so it took some fancy footwork to keep the status quo. “Swing your partner, round and round....”
After the third complete circle he stumbled over a bush, landing in a sitting position on the ground. “Tired already? Maybe you'd better sit out the next dance.”
He managed to get up again and staggered towards me. “Okay, now you're just getting a little too pushy. I bid 'good day' to you, sir!”
I thrust the staff over his arm and into his armpit, using the leverage to turn him towards the downhill side of the trail. If he'd had the sense to stop reaching out for me, he could have easily freed himself. But, as noted before, isolated zombies aren't that smart. Once he was pointed the right way, I disengaged the staff, then moved behind him and sent him off the trail with the firm application of the sole of my boot to his ass.
Turning back to Anna, I mimed tipping a hat and asked, “Would you like to do the honors?”
She nodded, raising her SMG and putting a round through the back of his head. She walked up to me, looking down at the corpse. “I wonder what he was....”
“Stop!” I interrupted her, “I don't want to know, I don't even want to speculate. Humanizing zombies too much makes it harder for me to do what I just did. Bobbie will capture some good stills and send them to the police, and do what she can to identify him on her own. Whatever she learns, she knows not to tell me.”
We continued back down the trail, keeping vigilant in case he wasn't the only one shambling around out here. We hadn't quite gotten out of site of the body before the first vulture glided in for lunch. The rest of the hike passed uneventfully, and we arrived back at our vehicles a little while before noon. As I was dropping the staff in the sterilizer, Anna asked if she could borrow my toilet. I let her in and gave myself a precautionary bleach rubdown, keeping an eye on the nearby woods. Having recently mused on the feeding habits of vultures, I wasn't quite in the mood for lunch, so I suggested driving the rest of the way down to the Basin first. Anna didn't argue. Mounting up, we got back on the road. After cautiously negotiating a few more hairpin turns, we came into view of the Basin again. Unlike the slopes, desert vegetation dominated the floor. But now that we'd come partway around the bulk of Casa Grande, I could see the lodge to the south. There the trees kept a foothold, benefiting from the extra protection from the sun that the mountains provided. Finally, we reached the relatively level road at the bottom. The going was less hazardous, so I used the opportunity to check in with Bobbie and get the latest news.
“Hey there hot stuff, how are things going on the home front?” I inquired.
“Watch the language, your mom is up for a visit.”
“Hi mom!” I said
“Hi son,” Mom replied. “You really should be more careful, you could have been bitten. But you won't pay me no never mind, so I'll just toddle off downstairs so you don't have to censor yourself.”
I heard the door to our computer room close. “So, how long was she watching?”
“Oh, she was here for all of your hike. When you were playing with your 'fellow hiking enthusiast' I thought she was going to end up rolling on the floor laughing. She actually cracked a smile.”
“Wow. Wish I could have seen that.” I chuckled.
“Meanwhile, in business news,” Bobbie said, “the full video of the zombie fight from yesterday has been up for 6 hours and has driven site traffic up another couple of percentage points. The Park Circus paid a nice fee for the rights to use it, and are already trumpeting about how one of their rangers, with assistance from an unspecified civilian, managed to wipe out a good chunk of the infected in the park. Seven other government agencies have bought it to add to their libraries of training videos. And it is selling well to other news organizations. So long as you don't seriously screw up, the rest of this trip is pure profit. Based on past and current trends, I am tentatively moving M-Day up to mid July.”
“Glad to know I'm out here risking life and limb for a good reason,” I said.
“Don't be silly, you know you'd pay to do this if that's what it took. In site news, I had to call in a couple of moderators. Some of your groupies, the ones who fantasize about going zombie hunting with you, are seriously hatin' on your little friend.”
“I'm not surprised,” I admitted.
“So, you're headed down to the Window this afternoon?” Bobbie asked.
“Yep. And since I'll be going alone, can you call up one of your minions to keep watch around the vehicles?”
“Sure thing. And I'll let your mom know when you start down the trail,” Bobbie said. “Well, not everyone has time to enjoy a drive in the country, some of us have work to do. Talk to you later, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I took the turnoff towards the campground, figuring this would be a good time to fulfill another Park Service request. A number of the campsites held the burned-out husks of cars, vans, pop-up trailers, and small RVs. According to rumor, shortly after the army arrived a couple of soldiers got the idea to supplement their pay by rummaging through abandoned vehicles. Supposedly they were surprised, make that fatally surprised, to find that some of the RVs were still occupied. The army burned the remaining ones as a precaution. Remarkably, official reports showed only two casualties for the entire operation. Both of them occurred in the first week.
After a few minutes of driving through the campground, I found what I was looking for. I needed a camp site, in decently good shape and free of debris. This one was perfect. There must still be some wildlife, emphasis on the 'life', around here, as what few plants had managed to gain a foothold in the hard-packed dirt and gravel showed signs of having been grazed upon and there were spots where smaller plants had been rooted out completely. The picnic table and the shelter over it were in good shape. It was one of the sturdier ones, a sheet metal roof supported by a pair of rock walls, with the table and benches supported by the wall on one end and heavy steel posts on the other. And the grill was still standing upright. I drove around the loop again and stopped where a thicket of mesquite trees blocked my view of the campsite. Anna pulled in behind me as I got out.
“Lunchtime,” I called out, carrying a pack of food and a Dr. Pepper over to the picnic table. I looked around, this place was perfect. The mesquite and a truly impressive prickly pear cactus blocked any view of the other campsites and the burned-out hulks of vehicles. Anna followed with an MRE pack and we both sat down. I chose to eat mine cold, while she went to the trouble of using MRE heaters to warm up her entree and make a cup of coffee.
“Hey,” Anna said, “If you need to check in with your girlfriend, don't mind me.”
“Thanks, but I already did,” I replied.
“How's she doing?” Anna asked.
“She's just thrilled. The money is rolling in, and I should have everything but the LAV paid off in July. That means we'll be able to get married.” I'd gotten the note on the LAV paid down enough that, worst case, the scrap metal value would cover the rest. Even a 'light' armored vehicle has a lot of steel in it.
“You'd better invite me,” she mock-snarled. I grinned and nodded in reply.
Once lunch was done, I headed back to the LAV to grab some props. As I was setting up a small 2-man tent, Anna spoke up.
“You're going to sleep in a TENT? You're even crazier than I thought.”
“No way in hell,” I assured her. “This is just to set the scene. In a few months, you'll be able to enjoy an 'authentic camping experience' from the comfort of your own home.”
Once the tent was up, I tied the entry flap back and unrolled a sleeping bag inside. Then I went over to the grill, cleaned it out, poured some charcoal, and lit it. I set up cameras in the tent, in front of the grill, and at the table, and placed three more around the site. Bobbie would edit the video to give the illusion of the viewer walking around, and add some realistic food cooking over the charcoal. Bobbie is good with hardware and software, but her real talent is video editing. She was running her own business when she was 14, which is why she does the books for Texas Zombie Reporter. She had business accounting down pat while I was still doing minimum wage summer jobs. She's famous enough that a few years back there were accusations that she was faking or at least enhancing footage of some of my exploits. A few months of sending real-time feeds to Video Journalists of America proved to most of my colleagues and the public that yes, I really was that crazy.
Once I was done, I sat down next to Anna again. “I'm taking a hike down to the Window and back, but I need to do this one alone.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Its personal, and very important to me.”
“If you insist,” she said. “I guess I'll kick back in the truck.”
“That would be best. If you do need to stretch your legs, stay close to the vehicles, there will be someone monitoring the cameras.” Which reminded me, I pulled a spare headset out of my pack and handed it to her. “That'll let them contact you. It wouldn't hurt if you walked past the campsite in full ranger gear once in a while, it would add to the illusion.”
“I might do that,” she said.
“I might be three or four hours, but I'll be back by dark.”
“Be careful,” she warned.
“Never,” I said, and started walking.
A few minutes brought me to the campground trail head, and I stepped onto the trail itself. This would be the longest hike of the trip, so I stuck with the Kevlar jacket and staff. There wasn't much change in elevation so most of the walk would be easy. The main drawback was that it would be downhill on the way out and uphill coming back. Even a shallow slope seems steeper at the end of the day. The path was distinguishable mainly due to having been one of the most used trails in the park, thousands of pairs of feet a year left an enduring mark on the landscape. Brush made the going more difficult than I expected, and I often had to leave the trail entirely. After about half a mile, the trail met a dry creek that drained much of this side of the Basin, and I abandoned the trail to follow the rocky watercourse. The Park Service would prefer otherwise, but they'd be happy so long as I made it to the Window. I was never more than a few hundred feet from the trail at any point, usually much closer, and after a while the trail began crossing back and forth across the creek. As I got closer to the end, the trail and creek stayed very close to each other as they snaked between a pair of volcanic dikes. It was at this point that I saw the first signs of water, the remnants of spring rains filtering through the rocky soil. I moved back onto the trail, which was now on bare rock. Steps frequently led to stepping stones in the creek bed, which now carried a small flowing stream as more water seeped into it.
Finally, I arrived at the Window. I stood there for a while, nothing but a dozen feet of slick, wet rock separating me from the sheer drop to the desert below. I gazed out at the vast landscape before me, until I heard Bobbie's voice through my headset.
“Your mom is here, and I've stopped recording.”
“Okay, I'm ready,” I replied.
I reached into my pack and pulled out the small metal urn. I unsealed the lid to reveal a portion of my father's ashes, and I dropped them into the small stream a pinch at a time, watching them flow over the edge. Once I was done, I stood in silence for a few minutes more, then started back up the trail.
It's a good thing no infected animals were around, because I probably wouldn't have noticed them. I barely paid enough attention to keep my footing on the hike back. Before I realized it, I found myself back at the campground. I walked back to the campsite, packed everything up, and made sure the fire was out. I worked in silence. Anna must have sensed my mood, as she waited patiently, and followed me quietly as I got back in the LAV and drove off. It was only a short drive to the Basin Amphitheater where I intended to spend the night, preferring to park in the middle of the relatively broad expanse of the parking lot rather than the confines of the campground. You would expect sunset to come early in the Chisos Mountains, until you realize that the sun is dropping towards the Window and will disappear below the distant horizon rather than the closer peaks. By the time I had parked and exited the LAV, my good mood had returned, and I smiled at Anna as she joined me.
I saw movement at the edge of the parking lot, and I motioned for Anna to hold still. She followed my gaze and saw the herd of javelina in the brush nearby. She started to raise her SMG and I put my hand on the barrel to push it back down.
“They're alive,” I whispered.
“How can you be sure?” she whispered back.
“They're digging for roots, and they've got young with them. Not even all of the adults get above forty pounds, the young can't be much more than ten. If the adults had converted, they'd be eating the little ones instead of plants.”
“So if they are hanging around, that means that this area is pretty much clear of infected,” Anna noted.
“Right,” I agreed. “Not that javelina are all that perceptive, but it's still a pretty good bet.”
I grabbed a heavy burlap sack out of the LAV and walked down into the amphitheater. Reaching the fire pit, I upended the sack and a pile of wood tumbled out. I arranged the wood properly, unwrapped a firestarter, lit the end, and placed it under the center of the pile. The dry wood caught quickly, and soon a quite respectable campfire was blazing. That done, I set up cameras at strategic locations amongst the benches, and returned to the LAV.
Anna watched as I worked, then asked, “I didn't think you were supposed to have wood fires in National Parks.”
“The Park Service specifically asked for this,” I replied, “But they did insist I bring my own wood. Once Bobbie has enough footage, she'll set it up so that they can splice in old films of Ranger talks.”
Back at the parking lot, we stood outside for about an hour, taking turns observing the javelina rooting in the twilight and keeping watch in case any dangerous critters showed up. As the sun finally dropped below the horizon, my instincts said to settle in someplace safe. But I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
Turning back to Anna, I asked, “Want some hot dogs?”
“Sure!”
I got the turkey dogs, buns, and fixings out and headed back down to the fire, carefully cutting a pair of long, thin mesquite branches on the way. We sat at the edge of the pit, facing so that we could watch each other's backs. Once skewered on the mesquite branches, the hot dogs were held out over the coals until they started to blacken on the outside before being placed into the buns. Anna liberally doctored hers from an MRE-sized bottle of hot sauce, I went with my preferred barbecue sauce and mustard. Once the food was gone, I packed up the cameras, made sure the fire was out, and we headed back to the vehicles. After an exchange of “Goodnight”s we both locked ourselves in, and I logged onto the site for a while before falling asleep.

I saw a small herd of javelina today, live ones, and it got me to thinking. Zoologists claim that the average size of javelina is gradually declining as natural selection slowly does what domestic pet breeders are doing intentionally. The same is happening with other wild animals whose weight range at breeding age straddles the viral amplification limit. Because of Kellis-Amberlee, animals under 40 pounds are more likely to survive long enough to breed. At least, those animals that are born in litters. Being under 40 pounds doesn't keep the individual animal from being attacked and killed, but that does mean that it won't rise up after death and attack its siblings and their offspring. So, just as you are more likely to survive long enough to reproduce if your house pets are Chihuahuas rather than Great Danes, wild animals have a better chance to breed if their family group tends to run smaller than 'critical mass'.
- From Anthropological Curiosity,
  
  the blog of Rob Phillips, April 4, 2040
I have a special message for a few of the weekend bicyclists out there: Yo, Dumbass! Stop signs apply to you too! Now I know the percentage of bike riders who are completely self-absorbed morons is small, but that percentage is also the most visible, at least after the fact. Luckily I've seen enough of them that I was prepared for the two I encountered this morning to do something asinine, so when they blew through a stop sign and rolled out into the street right in front of me I was able to dodge them.
“But...but...but car drivers like you need to watch out for us.” Yes, there are stupid drivers, and I curse them far more foully than anything you'll read here because they not only endanger themselves, they endanger me and my loved ones. But when you pull something as monumentally stupid as what I saw today, even the most cautious and bicycle-aware driver, like me, is liable to smear your ass across the pavement. At least these two chose to show off their macho bike cred by risking their lives in a Level 7 zone where the residents would be prepared to deal with the aftermath. Not that they would have likely risen up after the aforementioned ass-smearing, because apparently that's where their heads were.
- From Yes Sir! F*** You Sir!,
  
  the blog of Bobbie Cardille, March 24, 2040
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Texas Zombie Reporter: Tales of the Rio Grande