Zomblog: Snoe's Journey (3 page)

She smiled and nodded. That was pretty much it, but it was more conversation than we have had since we set out together that didn’t involve name-calling, arguing, or me asking a question and her saying she doesn’t know.

Friday, June 24
th

This time of year, you always have to watch out when it comes to weather. I don’t know anything about what causes it or why, but lightning is a nasty, nasty thing. It is one of those things where you have absolutely no control over. And when it comes after a long, dry stretch of days, you can bet that you will see fires popping up.

I don’t know how they dealt with that sort of thing before, but these days, you just hope it does not happen anyplace near
where you are, or where you might be headed. And that is why we are having to hook north instead of south right now.

After last night’s storm, we woke up and knew well before we saw anything that there was a big fire nearby. We’d just gotten back into the foothills and spent the night on some sort of bridge that crossed a river that was easily a couple of hundred feet below. There was a long rusted out bus on its side, and that is where we camped. It didn’t smell the greatest, but it kept us out of the worst of the rain.

When I finally dozed off, it was out of exhaustion more than anything else. We’d had to keep at a jog most of the day as we found ourselves running into several small groups of zombies. I guess when they get funneled into an area like this, it is probably not in their nature to go and climb the hills. They stick to where there used to be roads; the ground is easier to navigate.

So we made our way up this particular hill and saw a wall of smoke right in our path. It was a few miles off, but there was no way we could go south. The hills were just too much.

So, north we go.

Monday, June 27
th

We are taking a day to sort of recover after some very intense hiking. Oh, and we are in a settlement.

The people seem nice. You always have to be on your guard, but one of the best indicators when it comes to entering a strange settlement is to look for children. Then, observe their behavior.

If they are playing games that involve beatings, hangings, torturing animals or effigies of people…that is usually a bad sign. (And yes, that is actually a tip from the EEF manual.)

We were welcomed and even invited to stay for a meal with the mayor of this settlement. I guess I didn’t realize how jumpy I was until somebody came up from behind. It is pretty embarrassing to respond to an offered berry pie by pulling a weapon.

The good thing was that they totally understood. In fact, they were more than a little surprised to discover that it was just two women. Then they apologized for implying that we might not be capable of taking care of ourselves.

So, once all of the welcoming was over, they showed us the traveler’s lodge where we were able to soak in these huge tubs of hot water and scrub with scented soap and coarse cloths to get all the dirt and grime off our bodies. After that, we dried off using some of the softest towels I think I have ever felt.

Nothing had been said during our introductions, so I guess I thought I might be safe as far as people not knowing who my parents were. Nope.

That evening, I went into a small building. The doors were open and I heard some bluesy guitar playing from within. Inside, I discovered a small stage in the center of a bunch of book shelves that were in a sort of octagon shape in concentric circles. The shelves were lined with hundreds of books. I could tell by the wooden covers on most that they had been produced post-apocalypse. Then I noticed tables setup along the walls. At each table, I discovered teams of two.

Here is what they do. They take books and copy them word for word by hand. I later found out that there is an airtight vault used to store any original copies that this town possesses.

The books are of just about every sort. There are old text books that teach math and science. Cook books that have pictures of food that are simply impossible to imagine ever being able to create…much less how something like that would taste.

And then there is the section simply labeled: STORIES.

It was here that I discovered copies of my father and Meredith’s journals. Somebody had even given them a clever title.

ZOMBLOG
.

Thursday, June 30
th

So here is what we learned. These people have never heard of the NAA. They have dealt with the occasional raider, but nothing like a concentrated army. They were more than a little surprised to discover that Dominique was not only alive, but actually a real person. It seems that some folks thought the journals written by Sam and Meredith were dramatized.

The revelation that both were real people sparked some interest, but nothing too crazy. Nobody even made the connection in regards to my identity.

There are four other settlements in about a ten mile radius from this one, and they all trade back and forth. This is actually the smallest of the settlements and is like the educational center for the cluster. I guess each of these settlements has a specialty. For instance, this one is all about school.

When I say school, perhaps I should be clearer. This is where people come to learn once they are older. I guess you could equate it to the Old World concept of college. They teach medical and construction courses here. One of the settlements is like the military. Those folks train in survival and combat. The people from that outpost ride the surrounding area and keep it safe. At least that is how I understood it.

When we left, they actually
gave
us a bunch of supplies. We were nice enough along The Corridor, but I sure don’t recall us just loading up passers-through with food and making sure that all of their weapons were in top shape and cleaned. They even gave me a better sheath for my long blade that I wear on my shoulder.

As we walked today, I reflected on the whole situation. I guess if this were Meredith’s journal, there would have been some suspicion, doubt, and probably a little action. The most action I had during the stay was helping this poor woman who was trying to get her five children to behave while she did some trading with the folks who ran the produce stand. One of the little boys wanted an apple REALLY bad!

So, Kai and I continue on our journey. Funny, but I didn’t see her much at all during our stay. Usually around the evening meal she would just sort of appear. Other than that, I was pretty much on my own.

Each evening, I would ask her if we were leaving and she would say, “Not yet.” Until last night. I asked as usual and she just said, “In the morning.”

And so here we are…back out in the wilderness. Tonight we are camping on the eighth floor of some long building with a bunch of smaller rooms. I thought it might be a hotel, but none of the rooms had beds or bathrooms. Each had a variety of desks full of all sorts of clutter.

The room we chose to camp in has this big desk and what I imagine was probably a pretty nice chair a couple of decades
ago. Now it is just disgusting and mold covered. On the desk is a bunch of stuff. There is a calendar with all sorts of cryptic messages that you can still make out. Many are faded or smeared beyond the ability to read, but one day in particular, January 8
th
, has these words in dark, heavy script.

“POP QUESTION TO PAM!!!!!”

I wonder what she said.

Chapter 2

Friday, July 1
st

Today we moved through some sort of city. It was pretty big and looks like the living did as much, if not more, damage than the zombies.

At first, I just thought there might have been some nasty fires. That was apparently a big problem in those early days as fires burned out of control and nobody was available to put them out.

I am still in awe at the amount of power it must have taken to keep a place like this with electricity. That is one of those things about the Old World that those of us who were born into this New World simply cannot relate to in any way. Trying to imagine leaving entire buildings lit up just because they look nice? Sorry, it just does not make any sense.

Many of the buildings in this city were blown up. There are craters everywhere and the few buildings that do remain look to have been shot up. While it is common for windows to be missing in a majority of the lower floors, I did not see one single intact window anywhere.

Skeletal remains litter the ground, most are broken or show definite signs of animal activity. And we did not see one single zombie all day. It is like even the walking dead know there is nothing here.

Saturday, July 9
th

Kai said we are about halfway there. Really? Over a month on the road and we are halfway there?

There is a silver lining to that cloud.

Today we are guests at a tribal outpost. I guess the Natives have several between here and their border. We are beside a huge lake where a massive dam is still holding strong. There is this lush, green oasis right in the center of what was once the town of Dillon, Colorado.

I don’t know what I expected. I have met members of the native community at their outpost at Timberline Village. But this is something entirely different. The people are dressed in skins, furs, and feathers. There is all of this color and beauty…and the smiles.

It was almost scary at first. I never realized that a smile could make me so nervous…but a hundred of them? I feel ashamed for how my gut was twisting those first hours.

These people act like the world is a wonderful place. And everywhere I look, I see carvings or paintings of the same thing: a white buffalo.

But back to the silver lining…

We will be on horseback from here on out! I have never seen animals like these before. They are calling them horses, but these shaggy things are about half the size of a horse. They aren’t donkeys, and if they are ponies, they aren’t like anything that I have ever seen.

I took a chance and asked Kai if she could tell me how many days we might still have to travel before reaching our destination. I was stunned when she said we probably had just over two weeks ride ahead of us. Surprised not only by any answer at all, but also to know that we would be there so soon.

I risked a second question and asked why she had not ridden a horse all the way. Once more she shocked me with a response.

“I would need to have one horse that was pulled along since it would do me no good to have a horse and you on foot for the return trip. Also, these are very special animals. They are strong, sturdy, and unafraid of the walkers. We do not like to take them too far away from home.”

Sunday, July 10
th

His name is “
Mato
”. That is Lakota for bear. He is a dark brown with an all-white face on the right side as you look at him. He likes to canter—which is like the horsey equivalent of jogging.

So, if you have never had the pleasure of riding a horse, let me share. First, I have read a few fantasy books. I remember there being a lot of horseback riding in those. I also remember some of them saying things about how some young princess could not ride a horse until after she was wed because then her husband would doubt her virginity.

Okay…I get it.

I hurt in ways and in places that I should not. And when I climbed off of Mato for that first break, it took everything I had to get back on. By the time we stopped this evening, I think I was almost ready to cry. I actually had to ask Kai if we could slow down. I felt every single bump and jostle those past few hours.

And if she thinks I didn’t see that little smirk on her face…well…she is very wrong! And you can bet that I will get her back somehow for this. Sure, I know it is not her fault
technically
, but she could have warned me or something.

Thursday, July 14
th

I guess the Confederation of Tribes is not shy about sending a message. We are on a long stretch of what was probably a major highway. The land is flat and grassy.

That is why it is so easy to see the people lashed to these huge ‘X’ shaped things that line both sides of the trail. This display came into view last night before we made camp. We rode all day long and it still goes on into the distance ahead of us.

Several of the figures are twitching, writhing and moaning…oh yeah, and a few baby cries tossed in for good measure. So that means that they were put here alive and left to die by slow, lingering effects of thirst, or the horror of being attacked by the wandering zombie.

The people on these displays (I am sorry, I really don’t know what else to call them) are set about four feet above
ground. That would allow a zombie to do some serious damage to the legs of the person, but leave enough for them to return.

Another observation is that, the ones we first encountered were obviously the freshest. That means that whoever draws the assignment to bring out the person about to be crucified has to travel to the end of the line (again, sorry, but I just have no words for this…and I will get to Kai’s obvious lack of reaction in a bit). I wonder if all roads leaving Oklahoma look like this

I may have mentioned that not everybody ended up turning as a cause of death. There are more than half from what I can see that simply died of “natural” causes—if dehydration can be considered natural.

The birds seem to favor them over the zombies, but the bugs are the other way around. I imagine there is a reason, but I don’t know…and honestly…I don’t much care.

So, I have been watching Kai as we traveled down the Avenue of the Damned (that is what I am calling this stretch). She is not bothered in the slightest. I want to ask her what these people could have done to deserve such a harsh punishment, but this time, I am afraid that she
will
answer.

I get it, we live in harsh times…but this just does not seem right. Perhaps it was a mistake to come here and ask for help. As it is, even though they want me to come here, I don’t really know why; it may have nothing at all to do with the coming fight.

Once or twice, I have noticed that Kai takes a longer-than-usual look at one of the bodies we pass. Of course that raises more questions, but I just need to keep my mind focused on what I came here to accomplish.

Friday, July 15
th

We are spending the night in this huge log cabin. I would have ridden right past it if Kai had not veered off the trail and cut between these small hills—not much more than mounds really.

The cabin is set into the face of the backside of the larger of the two hill/mounds and you have to go down a few steps to enter. The walls are set with lanterns and there is a pretty hefty
amount of food stored here. Also, here is something really strange…a fire was already going. It wasn’t anything big, but there was a good bed of embers already in place along with a stack of well-seasoned wood that runs the length of one wall. That means somebody had to be here recently. Kai is not saying anything—big surprise.

After a meal of dried meat, this soft, tangy cheese, and dried berries, Kai explained that we would wait here until the elders arrived.

Sunday, July 17
th

A thunder storm came through today. But that was it. I am starting to wonder how Kai expects anybody to know that we are even here. We are not sending up any signals that I am aware of, and we almost never leave this cabin except to fetch water from a nearby stream and tend to the horses.

Wednesday, July 20
th

Visitors arrived at some point last night. I say “some point” because I woke to find five people sitting in a circle by the fire. I never heard them arrive, and I didn’t even know they were here until I got up and walked over to the fire. I was just rubbing my eyes and not really paying any attention. I should work on that.

Introductions were made…sort of. Kai told them I was Snoe, daughter of Meredith, companion of Erik Greyfeather, and bearer of the mark.

That last part is what sort of blew right past me. So, there I stood, staring at them and them at me. The silence was becoming so customary that I doubt I even got agitated.

The woman named Angel Snow Owl did all the talking from the time introductions were made, and that is probably why her name is the only one that I can remember. And she is the one who dropped a bit of a bomb on me.

“You have the mark on you.”

When she said that, it was not a question or even a hint of a probe. She was telling me to my face that she had knowledge. The thing was, I did not know what she was talking about. Then
she pulled out a piece of very well-protected paper. It was laminated and sealed in a plastic case.

This is what it said:

Brothers and Sisters,

I have met the bringer of death. Her name is Meredith Gainey and she is the mother of a child named Snoe. I have seen it for myself. The child has a mark on her scalp. It is the head of a buffalo, just as I saw in my dreams.

I believe that this child will be the bringer of life, just as she is the daughter of the bringer of death. The child must be watched and kept safe. I have asked a few of our Native Brothers and Sisters to keep tabs on the child. I do not believe that is my path and will be accompanying Meredith on her journey. She intends to see for herself if the rumors of Las Vegas are true.

I will send word to you once I arrive if that is the will of the Creator. I cannot explain it, but I feel myself drawn to Meredith. Perhaps it is because I know that she rides with Death at her heels. You all know that I have already faced Death once, and he was unable to claim me. Perhaps we shall fight again…perhaps he shall win.

Either way, I take this journey knowing something swirls around that child and it is best that she be kept far from her mother. If Meredith were to go alone, she might find a reason or excuse to return. I will not allow that to happen. Meredith cannot be around the baby. Death cannot claim her as a prize until we see the rise of the Seventh Generation. If Meredith seeks to return, then I will try to persuade her. If she will not listen, then I will kill her myself.

The time will come when Snoe is of age. When that does occur, you must decide for yourself. The wisdom of the Elders must make its decision.

I do not believe that she knows her true heritage. Her father never lived with his people after being adopted by a family that was not of our blood. I lived next door to him for over a year, and he never spoke about our people, so I do not think that even he knew. Yet, if you had ever met this man, you would feel the spirit of Black Elk alive in Samuel Todd. He had a way with words, and a kindness in his eyes and heart that surely come from his legacy.

Peace to you all, my Brothers and Sisters. Mitakuye Oyasin.

Erik Greyfeather

I probably looked like an idiot. I know for a fact that my mouth was open. I probably swallowed a fly or two. Since I know that my mother’s second journal was not as widely distributed as her first because it was found so much later, I wondered how so many people even knew about her travels with Erik Greyfeather. So the question that I had was this: Did they know of his fate? I was about to ask when Angel Snow Owl motioned for me to be silent.

She spoke to the others in the language of the Lakota (I asked later and she told me, so don’t think I just knew that or something) and then gestured for me to sit on the floor beside the fire.

Kai and the others got up and went to the back wall of the cabin and began to remove some of the stacked firewood. I was more than a little surprised when they revealed a secret door. They disappeared for a moment and then came out pushing a cart of sorts. In the cart was a man…or what remained of one.

Let me try to describe this for you. He has no left arm and both legs are stumps just below mid-thigh on one side and just above where the knee should probably be on the other. His face is a twisted mask of scars that are puckered and old. He has one eye, and it is a milky white (no tracers!). His nose is more of just a hole in the middle of his face than anything else and he has patches and strands of wispy, white hair.

His lips moved, but I didn’t hear a thing, so I have no idea how Angel was able to relay the words, but the way the man was nodding as she spoke, I guess she got it right.