Alive! Not Dead! Read Online Free PDF

know what to do.  I think we were just glad to be around someone else who was alive, not dead.
    Tara said she was sorry about my parents.  I told her it was ok.  I wasn’t very close to them.  We had a falling out when I was 18.  Ever since then, we rarely talked.  I hadn’t seen them in over 3 years.
    We decided to head south on the 405. Tara said she had some friends in Tacoma.  Maybe the disaster hadn’t hit them down there.
    Sadly, we were wrong.  The floods had gone even further inland than we thought.  There were many times where we would come up to a bridge and either find it destroyed or the other side would be completely underwater.  We decided that we needed to go further inland; away from the ocean and the constant threat of further tsunamis.
    It was a long way, but we decided Fairchild Air Force base in Spokane might be a safe zone.  They would definitely have guns there.
     
    We drove back the way I came: over the zombie bridge.  Zombies were still lumbering along down there.  Some of them noticed us standing above them.  They reached up, trying to get us, but we were way too high.  More zombies were coming toward us in the distance.  A large river boat lay on its side further to the north, damaged, crushed against the base of another bridge.  The sun was glaring on the metal side of the boat.
    We had to abandon the Caravan when we made it back to the collapsed bridge over the Raging River.  After we scrambled down into the small river and back up the other side we got back into the Suburban which was still parked where I had left it.  I kept an eye out for Norm, even though I knew he was probably gone by now.  The hotel I had slept in was nothing but embers as we passed.
    From the hotel eastward the roads got clearer.  The surrounding forest was now bent over from west to east – not east to west like it was on the far side of the hotel.  I had no idea why though.
    In one spot along the highway there had been a major rockslide. Trees and boulders were thrown all over the highway.  Cars and trucks were buried.  We were able to creep through the rockslide in the suburban.  One of the boulders we passed was easily five times bigger than our vehicle; the road underneath smashed.  We both looked up at it in awe as we drove by.
    West of the town of Easton, the eastbound lanes were completely blocked by another rockslide.  I stopped the suburban, climbed up to look around.  It looked like the landslide covered the road as far as I could see.  A cool mountain mist started falling which made seeing very far more difficult.  It would also hamper the speed we could travel.   I hopped back into the driver’s seat.  Driving down into the median, we headed eastbound in the westbound break-down lane of the highway.  It was tough traveling, pretty bumpy too, but we made it through.
    In the town of Easton, fires were small but plenty.  Many of the gas mains had broken in the city.  The smell of natural gas was overwhelming.  We didn’t stay in town any longer than we needed to.  Who knew how long it would be before the whole place would ignite – or if it ever would.
    On the other side of town, bodies in body bags were lining the highway.  Many of the bags had been torn open.  The bodies inside had been ravaged, or were missing.
    We didn’t know if something had happened before the pole shift, or maybe rescue teams were trying to clean the disaster up as the second wave hit.  Tara and I both shuddered thinking about the body bags being ripped open from the inside as the dead came to life, trying to free themselves from the plastic.
    As we came into the small town of Cle Elum, I glanced at the gas gauge.  It showed that we had less than a quarter of a tank of fuel left.  Highway signs told of several gas stations at the next exit.  We decided to fill up at one of t hose.
    The town was empty.  None of the gas station pumps worked.
    The last gas station was also a food mart and a