Zomblog 04: Snoe

by T. W. Brown

  We took off at a trot, but it seemed that our “group scream” had brought out a lot of zombies. Every street that we passed, they were coming. I know I was thinking it, but I felt only a little bit better when Rodney suggested that maybe we turn back.

  Captain Vaughn did not share our belief. Since nobody is looking over my shoulder, let me say right here that I wish he’d been dragged down and eaten by a pack of those things. I absolutely blame him for the fact that we are stuck up here on the fifteenth floor of some creaking, groaning building that used to be luxury apartments.

  Sure, I can see the damn bridge…big, fat, hairy deal! I can also see the four or five hundred zombies that are surrounding this building.

  When we cut across this one multi-tiered courtyard, we found ourselves trapped. The zombies were coming around both sides of the building in front, and by now we had a couple hundred on our heels back the way we came.

  The real problem was the tall buildings. One of the things they teach in EEF training is to make sure you do not lose sight of your surroundings. For instance, you don’t want to get trapped in a dead end alley with an unscalable fence barring your way. It is the basic principal of “look before you leap.”

  The only choice we had was to duck inside one of the buildings and hope the emergency stairwells were accessible. We lucked out there. Jeff tied the handle of the door to the railing to keep any zombie from getting lucky and pulling the door open.

  Up we went. After several floors, we were able to take a breather. We popped the door and discovered a pitch black hallway. I was designated as torch bearer, and we entered the first apartment on the left. Once again we got lucky and there were no surprises waiting for us inside. None of the windows were intact, so we could hear the crowd down below making all kinds of racket. Of course, that only served to attract even more zombies.

  When we looked down, I knew we were in trouble. Not only were the dead crowding the open courtyard, but they were coming from all directions. I looked around at the others, hoping to see them in deep thought about how we would go about escaping this little predicament. What I saw did not offer any encouragement.

  We all eventually moved away from the window and found a spot to sit. As I look around, I see Phaedra in a corner with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. Jeff went into another room, and so did Rodney. John is curled up on a gross, moldy sofa. Captain Vaughn went to the door and is sitting just outside in the dark hallway. I am in the corner opposite Phaedra, using the light coming through the window to see as I write.

  I think I am starting to get it. Meredith was able to write things down as they happened. I think she used it to sort through her problems. I hope that I start coming up with some brilliant ideas…otherwise this is going to be a very short journal.

  Thursday, July 12th

  And then there were five.

  We are now inside some huge building with what looks like a million seats. Jeff says that concerts and sporting events used to happen here. I am just so amazed at the number of people it would take to fill a facility like this.

  So, yesterday, we dozed off. When I woke up, it was really dark. Clouds had rolled in and blocked out much of the moonlight. I had to use one of my glow sticks (a few guys back at the Corridor make them and offer them as barter items) in order to find everybody.

  The problem was quickly apparent. I found everybody…except the captain. That realization came at the same time that I heard the rhythmic pounding.

  One by one, everybody made their way into the living room. I don’t know who mentioned it first, but somebody suggested that we look outside. Sure enough, the zombies—not all, but a good portion of them—were leaving the courtyard. They were heading down the side of the building. We couldn’t see where they were going, but none of us were fool enough to stand around and wait.

  We took off down the stairs. Since I already had a glow stick going, I was in the middle of the group: Jeff and Phaedra in front, Rodney and John taking up the rear.

  We ran into our first zombie four or five floors down. I guess I didn’t think they would get in. I mean, the door handle had been tied to the rail to keep it shut. To say that it unnerved me is an understatement. It was in that moment that I realized how close to death we are out here. There really is no such thing as safe.

  From that point on, it was a fight. By the time we reached the bottom, we’d cut down at least three dozen zombies. At some point, I rotated to the front, swapping out with Jeff. He’d made an overhand swing at a zombie and the damn thing moved at the last second. His heavy machete glanced off the thing’s head and caught the steel railing running along the wall as a bannister. Everybody heard his wrist snap.

  When we reached the bottom, we discovered that the hemp rope had parted and looked like it had been chewed on. We really didn’t have time to investigate very thoroughly.

  Of course, the lobby was crawling with zombies, but most of them were looking the other way. In fact, the problem we were faced with now was getting through the busted out picture window. (The doors were out of the question due to the handful of zombies wedged in the frame.) The drop from the window ledge was only about eight feet, but let me assure you that, if you are about to jump into relative darkness, it seems like a long way down. Toss in a few zombies wandering about and it gives a whole new meaning to “Leap of Faith.”

  It didn’t help that Jeff made a bit of noise when he landed. Bless his heart, he tried to bite it back, but it was obviously very painful.

  From there, it was a run through the scattered remnants of the mob. We were about two or three blocks away when I heard a scream unlike anything I’d ever heard in my life. I have no idea how I didn’t hear it when that person was dragged down during my first mission. It was loud and long and made my heart feel like it was being crushed by ice.

  We ran and I started having trouble seeing. That is when I realized that I had tears in my eyes. I swear I didn’t mean it, Captain Vaughn. I didn’t really want you eaten by zombies. I will never know if you peeked at my open journal while I slept and saw those words on paper, but I didn’t mean it. I would never wish that on anybody now, especially after hearing so much pain in that scream.

  I will never say something like that again…not even joking.

  Friday, July 13th

  One of the things about the world I live in that is very different from the Old World is the degree of natural medicine…and what was once known as witchcraft. I guess there was some sort of social stigma about people who went under the label “witch” or “wiccan” back before the rise of the undead.

  Of course I have heard about a lot of things from that time…far more bad than good…that makes little to no sense. One thing we are now probably to the extreme is superstitious. I never questioned it, but I was raised that Friday the 13 is a cursed day, and one best spent doing nothing.

  Today, we wandered about the inside of this vast arena. The faded pictures prove what I have been told. I can see athletic men seemingly frozen as they fly through the air with a ball in one hand. I found one of the balls in my wanderings. It was stiff and flat. I wish I could pump air into it and see what it felt like. Even flat, I had to marvel at how the men in the faded pictures—that were easily twenty feet high—could hold the ball in one hand as they flew. It must have been something incredible to see.

  However, equally amazing was the fact that I could make out a sea of faces in the background. The seats were full of people who all looked like they were having the time of their lives. Now…they are all dead. Or undead.

  I did find a room with boxes of bottled water and a few things that I couldn’t identify and would NOT want to actually drink no matter how pretty the bottles were.

  An update on Jeff. Phaedra set his wrist as best she could. There was a room with all kinds of wraps and braces and bandages. John actually laughed and said he couldn’t believe that nobody ever thought to hit this place for medical supplies. It seems that professional sports teams have
a hefty amount of some of the first aid basics on hand.

  Saturday, July 14th

  We will have to wait another day before we make it for the bridge. There was a huge mob of walkers down by the road that runs along the waterfront.

  I know what I saw.

  There has been a lot of talk about people doing things when they become one of the walking dead; stories about zombies aping things that they did when they were alive. One of the reasons that we are so careful with our own casualties in the field is the fear that they might lead a herd to the Corridor. Not that we aren’t equipped to withstand it, but because it is senseless to fight a thousand when you only need to kill one. (That is from the EEF manual.)

  I saw Captain Vaughn. He was missing an arm, and it looks like his clothing is all torn off. The walker that I saw leading the mob was fresh. Old blood is not red. It is black…maybe a brownish color. Only fresh blood is red. Very few zombies have red bloodstains these days. In fact, if you find one that does, you do an intense search of the area for possible survivors. (Very few people with the exception of the Travellers are out in the wild by themselves—also in the EEF manual.)

  I don’t know if anybody else saw him. When we saw the size of the mob, the decision was made quickly to return to that big arena. I stayed on one of the balconies that opened to the outside for a while to watch them pass. I was scanning them with my binoculars when I saw him.

  They were headed for the Steel Bridge. So you tell me…why would a bunch of walkers just happen to migrate towards the Steel Bridge? I think the captain is finishing his mission. He probably has no idea why he is drawn to that bridge, but my concern is where he will go after. How long before he decides to head for home?

  Sunday, July 15th

  Today we went down to the industrial area by the waterfront. The main goal was to find the big tools that we would need to destroy the rails on the Steel Bridge.

  This being the first operation of its kind for Corridor 26, I don’t think everybody has the same idea as to the best way to go about this. I think it is a play-it-by-ear operation. I got the first real hint of that as we were actually crossing the Steel Bridge this morning. Until then, we really hadn’t had a full understanding of what it would take to accomplish the task. It may prove harder than we expected.

  For one, we have to get everything from the other side of the river. Most of Old Portland is a burnt up mess. Several of the buildings look like crayons left out in the sun. I can’t imagine the size of the fire that it took to do all of this damage.

  Once we actually got a look at the bridge and the tracks, Jeff called everybody together to “brainstorm.” He said that the rules of brainstorming are for one person to jot down what everybody says. We all had to blurt out ideas of how we thought it would be best to handle this. We were told to just say whatever comes to mind no matter how silly.

  I didn’t really pay attention to everything that was said. However, once we ran out of suggestions, Jeff and Phaedra looked over the list and talked quietly. After a while, they seemed to have an idea as to what they wanted and the angle of approach for the job.

  My favorite part up to that point was standing on this bridge as the sun made its slow march across the sky. It was a warm, sunny day. The water looked so sparkly and blue. I have seen pictures of this river from before, during the days when people didn’t care what they did to the world they lived in. The water was a murky sort of color. We learned in our History class that companies used to dump their waste into this river. (Not just this river, but in rivers all over the country.) They knew it was bad for the water and the fish living in the river, but apparently nobody in charge cared.

  I looked out at the river and couldn’t believe how anybody could ruin something so pretty. Of course, I enjoyed looking at the river, and seeing the mountain off to the south just added to the beauty. However, as pretty as it was, my job was to watch for walkers. Eventually, we headed across the bridge in search of what they would need to do the job.

  So, while Jeff, Rodney, and Phaedra searched through the dozens of warehouses, John and I kept watch. By late in the afternoon, I’d dispatched two creepers and a dozen walkers. I was really starting to feel like a veteran.

  We (meaning Jeff and Phaedra) found something very interesting. In one of the warehouses, there were barrels and barrels of some sort of alcohol. Not the drinking kind. Jeff said it was probably some sort of fuel. Unfortunately, they are just too heavy to lift. It would have been great if we could’ve loaded them onto a wagon or something and hauled them to the bridge. I bet we could’ve blown it up. After all, it was pretty heavily damaged from all those years back when Old Portland burned. The NAA rebuilt it. Of course, that works in our favor. Jeff says that we would probably have a hell of a time doing more than superficial damage if this bridge was made from Old World construction.

  We will blow up the warehouse when we have everything handled as far as the Steel Bridge is concerned.

  Monday, July 16th

  More standing around while the “grown-ups” work on the bridge. I am noticing that we are starting to attract more attention. I killed at least twice as many zombies today as yesterday.

  When we got back to the arena, I asked how long this might take. The answer: Until we are done. I thought that was kind of rude. When I mentioned the fact that we drew a bunch more zombies today than we did yesterday, Rodney asked if I was bragging or complaining. I don’t know what is eating at everybody, but I found a spot up here in the upper level by a window that looks out at the river. I am spending the night here, because, quite honestly, I don’t care to be around those people right now. I realize that I don’t have all this incredible experience out in the wilderness, but I work hard and do as I’m told. For them to treat me like I am a pest, or less valuable for some reason…well, that’s just mean.

  Tuesday, July 17th

  I spent the day down on this access ramp with Phaedra. There was a strange vibe all morning that I tried to ignore, but I finally had to ask her about. It seems that Jeff and Rodney aren’t too fond of my keeping a journal. They both felt that Meredith made them seem like cowards. I guess they are worried about how I may portray them in my journal.

  When we got back this evening, I asked them both to their faces if they wanted to read my journal. If they wanted to see how I was “portraying” them. I got a bunch of sputters and protests. They both acted surprised that I confronted them, and of course, neither wanted to read my journal. After all, it isn’t like Sam’s or Meredith’s journal. Lots of people keep them now. None of them have become best selling books. I don’t think that anybody cares anymore. The originals were novelties. It let people connect over a similar experience. At least, that is what Mama Lindsay always said about the books.

  Phaedra found me a while ago up here in my private little spot on the upper tier. She said that Jeff made a comment she thought I would be interested to hear.

  “That girl is just like her mother. If she keeps it up and can stay alive, she may just be one serious badass.”

  I guess that is a compliment.

  Thursday, July 19th

  I am probably more scared right now than I have ever been in my life. For the first time in my life…I am alone.

  I think I have found a place where I will be relatively safe and still be able to keep an eye out for the others. I have to hang on to the belief that they are all alive and watching out for me like I am for them.

  The day was going so well. After my little confrontation with Jeff and Rodney, they seemed to be a little more accepting and easy to be around. Rodney even asked me to help him in the warehouse with all the drums of alcohol. He was rigging it so that we could blow it up. The trick would be setting it off while giving us enough time to get back to the bridge, finishing our job there, and getting out before every zombie in a hundred mile radius showed up.

  I was up on a platform laying a trail of splintered pallets that would act as a fuse. We had soaked them all in the alco
hol for a few hours and then lit one to see how it would burn…if it would. Not only did it burn, but it was a pretty shade of blue. (Rodney laughed when I made that very same comment out loud.)

  When I heard the scream, I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it was much too similar to the scream I’d heard from Captain Vaughn. Rodney didn’t hesitate and ran for the big doors. I was climbing down when he yelled for me to run.

  I did. I ran after him.

  By the time I’d reached the entrance to the warehouse, he was already down the hill and climbing the embankment on the far side that led up to the on-ramp to the Steel Bridge. By the time I was down the embankment, he was out of sight…and the screaming had stopped. When I say stopped, I mean that it stopped suddenly. It was like somebody threw a switch.

  I scrambled up the hill, and what I saw made my heart feel like it was going to take off without me. There were thousands of them. They were in this gulley that used to be a road or something as far as I could see in either direction. That meant that they’d been there for a while. It also cut Rodney and me off from the others.

  The only thing I didn’t understand at first was the scream. Then I saw them. It was like a small part of a river breaking away to cut its own path and become a stream. Several hundred had found a gap in the shoulder-high concrete corridor. It really wasn’t much larger than to allow them to funnel off single file. Yet, I guess if a steady stream of zombies break away from a huge herd even one at a time, it adds up after a while.

  I would guess that a few hundred were stumbling across the Steel Bridge. I looked for Rodney again, knowing he couldn’t have made it across. I didn’t want to call for him because I sure as hell didn’t want to bring the attention of so many of those things my way. Also, if I am being honest…I was terrified.