Zomblog: Snoe's Journey (9 page)

“You may not have ever been in any sort of agreement with the people of Corridor 26, but we never caused you any harm. The people of that settlement did not refuse to deal with you because you were Native American, they refused because they were scared of you. You are killers, thieves, and drug addicts. They were just normal people who were trying to rebuild their lives after the unthinkable happened.”

“And you think that none of them were…” Brian paused and gave me a hard look. “Killers, thieves and drug addicts? Is not that what you just called us?”

I nodded. Yep, that was pretty much it.

“And yet you come here now and ask for our help?”

I could tell that Brian was getting annoyed and just a bit angry. His face was starting to turn red and one blue vein stood out on his left temple. Interestingly enough, his voice stayed level and even.

“Actually, I didn’t, this was Angel’s idea.”

There was a long silence in the room and I was pretty sure that I had just blown any chance of getting these people to join us or offer any sort of help.

“You have quite the spirit,” Brian laughed. And when I say that, I don’t mean that he let go with a little chuckle as he spoke. Nope, He said those words and then he laughed…long and loud; he even had tears running down his face by the time he finished.

I sat there, glancing over at Angel every few seconds, but she did not seem to want to meet my gaze. I could tell by her clenched jaw that she was not happy. So maybe I didn’t act or behave quite in the manner she wanted, but I really did not care. As far as I was concerned, this little trip was a waste of time.

That was what I thought until Brian spoke again.

“Snoe Gainey, daughter of Sam and Meredith, I see now why Erik had such interest in you. You are a fighter, just like your mother, but have the heart and spirit of your father and his blood.” Brian stood at the table and looked at the others, calling for a vote on whether they should help.

Meanwhile, I was considering the words he had just spoken. He called me a fighter? Wow, I am pretty sure he will take that statement back eventually.

The vote was not even close to unanimous. There was a great deal of bickering and shouting, but eventually, they agreed to help. A few times, I actually thought that there would be a fist fight right then and there.

Still, once the vote was over and the decision made, everybody filed out and went to spread the word. I was still sitting there at the table with Angel and wondering if even this would be enough.

“Erik told me that you have the birthmark…the white buffalo.” Brian was looking at his hands. If I knew him better, I would swear that he was embarrassed. “Could I see it?”

I didn’t see the big deal, nor did I see the harm. I nodded and he came around the table to me. I guess he already knew where to look because he went right to it. That was just a bit creepy.

After the meeting, Jimmy was waiting for me on a bench. He waved, I waved. Then he ran to catch up to me, so I guess the wave was more of an implied “hey, come here” gesture. The gist of it was that he was wondering if we might hang out and eat together later.

I don’t read a lot, but I have read enough stories. Honestly, I don’t know how I was ever born, because the world was in a tailspin when Meredith and Sam met each other. To be honest, the last thing on my mind is getting involved with somebody.

Sure, he’s cute, and I absolutely like the idea of having a guy in my life at some point. Right now is not that time. How am I supposed to be romantic or anything like that when I have all of this insanity unfolding around me? THAT is the part of the stories in books that I do not understand. Yes, I know we could all die at any moment, but right now, those odds are a little bit higher. Romance is not a priority.

So, now that I am pretty sure his feelings are hurt, I feel like a total bitch. I just don’t want some guy thinking that I need to be saved or anything like that right now. Also, and this is a big part, I want to show all of these people that seem to think I am worth following (for lack of a better term, because, as far as I am concerned, Angel is leading this thing), that I am worthy.

Tuesday, August 23
rd

I have to admit, I thought that we were living well on the Corridor. We had nothing on this place. There are stores that sell candy…JUST candy. Heck, candy was an event and an occasion back home. Not only that, but they have huge fields and stuff with all sorts of animals like cows and pigs and chickens and turkeys (which I had never seen before, much less eaten).

I saw one place that sold dresses. Even crazier, I saw women walking around wearing dresses! Nice ones, too. I owned one, but I only wore it on special occasions. Here, people just walk around and shop. There are three libraries, for crying out loud! And they have a newspaper.

This all makes me wonder about what it is we were doing, or thought we were doing on the Corridor. Until now, I thought Warehouse City was like, super advanced.

That brings me to the next part…this place has an armory. I have not been allowed to go inside, but Angel just came back from the place and she was smiling.

We leave the day after tomorrow. I guess these folks take a few days to mobilize. I am trying to be patient. It does me no good to want to hurry. But my fear is that we will arrive and there will be nothing left.

I hope that all the people who stayed behind in Warehouse City have been hard at work shoring things up. And certainly they could not believe that this was over just because Dominique left that day.

There were breaches in the walls that needed to be fixed. And that was my other thought. The Corridor had grown complacent. We had those watch towers along the way that had been built as Warehouse City was connected to the Sunset Fortress, but both of those locations were just a hub. The people that called those two places home just sort of sprawled. It was like everybody was afraid to live close to one another. Maybe there was some sort of residual fear from how things happened when the zombies first came.

Yet, now, what I see is a huge community. And make no mistake, they have walled off an enormous amount of land. But these people did it in a square that seems to have expanded outwards. As I walk around, I see each section as it was added, centering on the actual prison.

There are huge, steam-driven construction cranes working right now on the next expansion about a half mile out from the last wall to have been built. The work is non-stop, but there are numerous diversions for people to engage in when they are not working.

I actually saw a small stadium for sporting events where they were playing baseball…in front of spectators. I know it was baseball because some nice man told me when I asked. This place is almost like looking into what the world that my parents must have known. Only, from what I heard, waste was a real common practice. Not here. They have compost centers, open bazaars where people sell the clothing they no longer want. Where I lived, if you outgrew something, you usually salvaged any of the material and used it in the making of your next set of clothes. Once the material was absolutely useless and threadbare, it was either turned into rags or brought in to be shredded and pressed into something that you used in your woodstove.

Wednesday, August 24
th

Today, I had a cupcake…it is like a cake, only small, round, and wrapped in colorful paper. It was heavenly. Am I that sheltered?

Thursday, August 25
th

I should feel sorry for General Carson…but I don’t.

We left Freetown this morning. The Natives who have travelled with me this far were a little annoyed at first. The Freetown Army just rolled out in a massive cluster of men, wagons, and weapons. So much for single-file.

Our scouts have told us that the general has been making it a point to roll over every single settlement and tribe they encounter. They are leaving nothing in their wake except death and destruction. Finally, I heard voices that echo my own thoughts.

Some of the Natives were riding right behind me this morning when we passed through the still smoldering ruins of a village. There were bodies strung up from poles and trees, as well as a litter of corpses just strewn about for the animals to pick at.

“How can this crazy white man hope to have anybody left to rule?” I heard from right behind me.

“He is a white man, he does not care how many he rules…as long as he is ruling someone,” was the response.

Friday, August 26
th

We caught up to the trailing edge of a herd of undead that had fallen in behind the general and his army. So, today, I was treated to seeing the difference between my Native army and my convict army.

The Natives rode in fast, quickly taking down zombies and then pulling back once they were the focus of the undead. The convicts charged in like lunatics. There was a great deal of yelling, cursing, and laughing.

The real difference was the final outcome. Both sides put down hundreds of the walkers. But not one single Native brother or sister was hurt or killed. If the report that I heard was accurate, the convicts lost thirty-seven members. The crazy thing is that they didn’t even seem bothered by it.

Also, they have three who have been bitten and are already showing the tracers in their eyes. They left on horseback right after the fight, riding hard for the general’s direction. I don’t know what they think to accomplish; three zombies against an army of thousands?

Saturday, August 27
th

We should reach Corridor 26 tomorrow. We are currently camped just past Corridor 205. At last, I am once again on familiar ground. It feels strange. I want to be excited, but with all of the damage and destruction that I have seen on this ride, I have a hard time holding out hope.

Angel told me that she expects this fight to be very costly and she wanted my promise that I would return to the Confederated Lands with her no matter the outcome. I think she is as nervous about that as I am about the fate of all the people at Warehouse City.

Tonight, she sat down and shared some stories about the struggle of the Native Americans. I feel foolish for being so ignorant, and after hearing some of the stories, I guess I am not surprised that anybody who is not Native American is choosing to let that part of history fade. Only, as long as there are Native Americans alive, that is not possible.

This is a people who believed until the end that there would always be enough land for everybody to live peacefully. Yet, there were those who saw the White Man as a human locust. I simply do not have enough knowledge of history to say one way or the other, but I do have enough knowledge now to say that the idea of reservations is reprehensible. I do hope that, once this is over, there can be some sort of bridge built between the White Man and the Native American.

If we do hope to outlast the zombies, there are a lot of bridges that need building. If I am truly some sort of symbol, then I want to survive this coming battle if for no other reason than to start a process that will urge everybody to see value in one another no matter the differences.

It is not like I feel that I have any answers. I just think that perhaps I have been given a rare opportunity. For whatever reason, people listen to me like I have something worth saying. For the first time in my life, I might actually be grateful to be the daughter of two well-known individuals.

Sunday, August 28
th

Too much rain to do anything…we can barely see five feet in front of us. Trying to attack an enemy now could be a disaster. At least that is what everybody is saying. Personally, I think we would all have the same handicap.

Chapter 4

Thursday, September 1
st

Sunset Fortress and everything around it…all the homes, workshops and meeting houses…gone. We are now moving around on the flanks of General Carson and his army.

So here is what we ran into once the weather cleared enough for us to move out. There were more undead to deal with. I think they are simply drawn by all the activity, because there was not all that much noise. In fact, we did not know the fate of the Sunset Fortress until we came within sight of it.

I know that it had been hit pretty hard when the NAA first attacked, but when I say gone, I mean that it has been reduced to a pile of rubble. There are signs that something heavy was here and Brian says that his scouts report that a sort of ramming device was used.

Angel’s scouts were busy and were not able to get to the scene in time. I guess they had more troubles with zombies than Brian’s men. Still, there have been no casualties from the Natives while Brian lost three of his patrol. There are a lot of walkers in the area. In fact, never in my life have I seen so many here around Corridor 26. They have always been out in what we consider the ‘wilderness’ areas; more of a problem for the local tribes than for us.

What we are sure of is that General Carson faced some sort of resistance here. That would indicate to me that Betty got the word here and something is in place. From what I see, it looks like this was mostly a harassing gesture. I saw breaches in the walls that were from the first NAA attack. It looks like nothing more than a sheet-metal fence was put in place and that would not have held against any serious zombie threat, so I feel safe in assuming that Warehouse City is where the people of Corridor 26 are going to make their stand.

The general seems pretty arrogant. He has made no effort to set up any sort of rear guard. Perhaps he suffers from that ‘bully’ mentality. He thinks that he is the biggest and baddest, so he simply does not worry about anybody threatening him.

Friday, September 2
nd

We have a prisoner.

Saturday, September 3
rd

I am afraid that all we have done may be for nothing. In the distance, black clouds billow skyward as Warehouse City burns. Thousands of undead have streamed in through several places in the barriers that were breeched with the use of massive explosive devices.

The prisoner actually told us anything we needed to know, but, as he reminded us time and again, we would be helpless to stop it. Had we arrived a week earlier, we might have been able to harass the general’s forces, but even then, it is unlikely that we would have been able to stop him.

Besides our being seriously outnumbered, General Carson has mastered the art of using the undead to shield his flanks as well as to act as fodder when he attacks. At least we know why there was no real sort of rear guard. We had to keep our focus on the zombies, that effectively kept us from doing anything resembling an offensive.

Brian and the Freetown Army lost almost a quarter of their numbers by simply charging in and thinking that they could use the undead in the same manner and to the same effect as the general. Of course, had Brian waited until the interrogation was over, it is likely that he would have acted with more caution.

It seems that the NAA has been very busy these past couple of decades. They have created a sort of human-zombie hybrid. We don’t really understand it because the soldier that we captured only had a very limited knowledge, but they have somehow managed to utilize people who show immunity by “half turning” them. (That is the way the captive described it, we are really quite clueless as to what that means.) I guess they keep a heavy rear guard of these “Anomalies” (again, his word). The zombies that they lure in arrive and then find nothing that they are interested in because I guess these anomalies can actually walk amongst the undead without being attacked.

They use these anomalies to lead the charge once they breach the wall as well. And that was the next piece of disturbing news. Any prisoners that are captured while they march on an objective are kept in cages. When the attack begins and the walls are breached, a pair of Anomalies cuff themselves to a prisoner and use them as live bait to draw the undead. Once they clear the fence or whatever, they literally cut the prisoner loose—usually by lopping of the hands.

How can we fight this?

Sunday, September 4
th

I will never be able to give Mama Janie her proper burial. The building—along with almost all the others that make up the core of Warehouse City—has been burned to the ground.

General Carson has left his calling card. The death and destruction are so overwhelming. I see familiar faces amidst the bodies hanging from anything that could be used to string people up. Men, women, and children…he does not seem to care about life on any level.

So, after spending the day cutting people down, it seems that there is going to be a meeting called in just a little while. I imagine that it will be everybody telling me that my cause is lost and that the chase is over.

I am sitting here against the only partially burned base of a tree. I remember this tree from when I was little. It had the most perfect branches, almost like it grew for the sole purpose of having swings hung from its lower boughs. I think every child in Warehouse City has come to this tree and used the swings. It seems that the general has some sort of intel, or that this was a cruel coincidence, but it was here that most of the children were hung.

I know that I will not be able to do anything to this bastard by myself, but I will not be walking away from this. I fully expect Brian and his Freetown force to pack it in, and no doubt Angel will not agree to continue to chase this army with the scales being tipped so far out of balance when we lose two-thirds of our men. She is not going to allow her people to be slaughtered, and if I am being honest, that is exactly what will happen if we try to fight General Carson after Brian’s people go home.

However, that does not mean that I will be giving up. I have no idea what I am going to do, but I won’t just walk away again. I did that once…and if I am going to die, it will be doing everything that I can to kill General Carson.

Monday, September 5
th

Shows what I know.

The meeting was more of a gathering. Everybody came to the town square and Brian got up on a platform that had been used as a gallows. When Angel joined him, I was ready to hear them talk about going home.

Nope.

“You see what has been done here,” Brian said, his voice calm, but with so much power behind it that it gave me chills. The crowd was absolutely silent so that everybody could hear. “To my Native Brothers and Sisters, I say that this is why we have separated ourselves from the White Man. But, to you, the White Brothers and Sisters who stand beside us, I say that you can no more paint every white man and woman with the same brush as you can the Native, Black, Hispanic, Asian…or any other race.

“I am proud to stand here with you and say that the dawn of the Seventh Generation has come. The signs long ago foretold have been revealed, and now we must bring about the change in this world that allows for the spirits of nature to breathe new life into this world. For that to happen, the perpetrator of the horrors that we have all seen here must be brought down.

“While we can never assure that there will not be another demon to replace this one, it is my sworn duty as a believer of the prophecies of the Seventh Generation to do all in my power
to nurture beauty and put an end to the ugliness of the Old World. I call on all my Native Brothers and Sisters to clasp hands with those not of our blood and stand together to bring the return of beauty to this world.”

I just stood there, staring up at him in amazement. And as he spoke, Angel nodded her agreement! Looking around, I saw other heads nodding…Native, White, Black, and everything in between; we became one tribe in that moment. That is what I feel in my heart.

Thursday, September 8
th

For some reason, the general has gone west. He is following the trail that still remains from where the old highway cut through the mountain range that lies between the area once known as the Willamette Valley and the Oregon Coast.

I do not know of any settlements along this route. That is not to say there not tribes that might dot the way, but nothing resembling the Corridor settlements. Speaking with Brian and Angel, neither of them know about anything substantial, so this is a mystery.

In other news, Jimmy and a scouting party returned just before dark this evening. They found Betty! In all the insanity of the past couple of days, she slipped my mind. I feel awful. And here is an even sweeter bit of news…Selina is with her.

I guess they are spending the night at Warehouse City and will be catching up with us as soon as possible. I imagine that Betty is heartbroken. I understand exactly how she feels. I have had a while to process things with having lost Mama Janie, Jenifer, and even Phaedra, a while ago.

Friday, September 9
th

We are looking down into a small village. From here it is difficult to really know exactly what is going on, but we all agree that several of the “Anomalies” are down there with a legion of undead.

Right now, we are completely surrounding the village. We might be too late to save the people down there, but not one of those freaks is going to escape.

They want to capture at least one of the Anomalies. I have no idea why. It is not like we can do anything with them. We have no lab, no way to really examine them. If it were up to me, we would simply kill them all and move on.

Saturday, September 10
th

I guess we know why I am not making the decisions. The Anomaly that we captured is a woman. Her name is unimportant and I don’t plan on learning it. She is a monster…much more of a horror than any zombie. However, the one thing that they could not engineer out of these freaks is the sensation of pain. An Anomaly is very much alive, despite the fact that you would not know it by looking into its eyes.

It stares at you with angry black orbs that have only the slightest ring of white around them. They have a body temperature that matches their eyes: cold. This one felt as if it had been at the bottom of a mountain lake. Her skin was an unnatural shade of blue and her lips were almost purple. Her hair was brittle and looked like it would break if you touched it and her tongue was gray. Her blood, that was the creepiest part…it was almost green with hints of blue, but her veins looked black and seemed to stand out from her skin.

At first she acted like she could not talk…wait, I should back up a minute. It was how we found her that I should start.

When morning came, we moved in on the village. I don’t think anybody actually got any sleep, though. The screams lasted all night, and more of them were from children than adults.

As we moved in, we cut down anything that looked like a zombie. There were heavily armed escorts scattered about; obviously General Carson considered these
things
to be somewhat valuable. We did not bother to take any prisoners when it came to the regular soldiers, but we do now have one of their flamethrowers and some top-of-the-line crossbows. Also, we found vials of this oily substance on several of the soldiers.

We would later discover (while questioning the Anomaly) that it is some sort of paralyzing toxin. They like to take their prisoners alive to use feeders for the Anomalies. Yep, they eat the living as well, but they prefer their victims not to be squirming. Like I said…monsters. Zombies simply do what they do and have no feeling about it. They are no more evil than a snake or bear; they simply act according to their nature.

These Anomalies know exactly what they are doing when they eat a person…alive. And they enjoy it.

No, that is not an editorial…that is straight from the mouth of the monster. I heard it with my own ears. And we didn’t even need torture to compel such a statement.

It seems that all of the Anomalies are volunteers! These…
people
, if that is what you can call them, were all immune and offered themselves willingly to be turned into a weapon. And really, what else could you call them? They use live humans as bait and draw hordes of the undead to a target location for General Carson.

I probably don’t need to tell you, but in case you wondered…this is a program that Dominique began. It seems that she has had her plan in motion for quite a while.

As for the actual “useful” intel that we gathered regarding the general and his army…they are heading to a facility on the coast near a settlement situated near what used to be the town of Tillamook. It seems that town used to be famous for, if you can believe this, cheese. I guess there are stranger things to be famous for.

They converted the cheese factory to a “weapons” depot. I guess they are creating an army of these Anomalies. General Carson is heading there to oversee the final stages. If what we heard is even remotely true, then we have to act now.