Zomblog 05: Snoe's War

by T. W. Brown

  I told her. But once I started talking, I guess I just kept going. I really never noticed that she dug the hole and built a covered fire, or that she made us a dinner of some bird that she had killed. (At least I think it was a bird.)

  I told her about my real mother and father. And when it was all over, she sat quietly for a few moments until eventually telling me that she had lived with just her father until about a month ago. She had no idea who I was and had never heard of my parents! She said that she overheard plenty of people talking about me, but she just never realized why. After hearing me rattle on for so long, she said that she thought it was neat that I was taking after my real parents by keeping a journal. And then she asked if I could teach her to read!

  I guess it never occurred to me that a person could live their life and not know how to read. However, I also never really gave any thought to the idea that besides the small tribes, there were also still loners out there that did their own thing. I imagine that school is probably not on the list of priorities for some folks.

  Anyways, I promised Selina that I would teach her to read as soon as we got done with this. She seems pretty excited about it.

  So, after I had spent all that time spilling my guts, I had to ask her about her life. I almost felt guilty about every gripe or complaint that I have ever made in my life after hearing her story.

  Selina and her family have lived almost like Travelers, but they actually have a big circuit that they travel according to the seasons. All her life she has been a farmer. She didn’t even know what a zombie was until she was almost ten years old!

  To me, that is just amazing.

  She was the youngest and had five older brothers. I guess they were doing their best to bring her up without having to deal with the undead. I’m not sure why, and she says that she never got a straight answer out of anybody.

  For her, it all came to an end one night after she got into trouble. She was punished and did what I bet most of us have done as children—she ran away.

  She was hiding in a barn when what she thought might be one of her brothers came in…it wasn’t. She peeked up from the stall she was hiding in and figured that the thing caught a glimpse of her. It got to her stall and she said that, because of the shadows, she could not actually see the face of the “person” who stopped and tried to reach for her over the gate.

  She started screaming. The youngest of her older brothers must have been close because he was there in seconds. She was initially horrified when her brother used his field machete to split what she thought was just some mean person’s skull open.

  I guess for Selina, that day was probably very much like how the rest of the world felt back when my mother and father were around. It just seems so odd. For me, zombies have just always been there. I have no part of my life where they did not exist.

  However, Selina’s story grew very sad in the end and I feel that it is not my place to put her private life here in these pages. What I will say is that a person she trusted very much hurt her deeply.

  As strange as it seems, I think she and I will be friends forever. She is the first person that I have ever met that I can be absolutely sure does not care anything about my past. She likes me for the person she is sitting beside.

  Thursday, March 4th

  In camp today, something must have happened while Selina and I took that first day of sentry duty. One of the members of our group is gone and nobody seems to want to talk about it. It can’t be something as simple as zombies because that would not be a reason for all the silence and the generally bad feelings I am picking up.

  Also, Mary has a black eye.

  Friday, March 5th

  Not much going on, but we are moving our camp so that we are now set up over the ridge looking down into Warehouse City. There has been a lot of activity and one of the back-up plans made allowances for a situation that looks like Dominique could be departing.

  I would say that an entire day of executions (I doubt there are any survivors of Warehouse City left that were not drafted and/or sent away on one of the trains) is a good sign that something is coming to a head down there.

  We have spotted Dominique on several different occasions as she is apparently preparing for departure. If she gets on that train—the one with her fancy travel car has never moved as far as I or anyone else knows—then the battle will begin.

  Monday, March 8th

  On the road and it looks like we lost our chance at Dominique! She left in the middle of the night when we couldn’t see anything.

  I told them when the city went dark that she would make her break for it. My group all stood around and argued. At least some of the others saw this for what it was and made the effort. Sadly, it ended in disaster for many.

  It was late Friday night/early Saturday morning when the sound of the train (which had been running or idling or whatever it is that trains do when the engine is up, but they aren’t moving for the past two days) pulling out could be heard. At first, there was a series of loud bangs. Mary said that was all the cars linked together coming to a state of tension where the couplings are located.

  I started getting ready to head down the hill, but it was Bob who told us to stay put. He insisted that it could be anything…a trap. Of all the people that I figured would fail me, he was not one of them.

  When the sound changed and it was obviously the train pulling out, I had enough of the talking and decided that I was going—even if that meant by myself. I was halfway down the hill when I heard the sounds of fighting from the general direction of the blacked out Warehouse City.

  By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, the train was gone, but I had something that I had to do. I did not realize until they both reached in and helped ease down Mama Lindsay’s body that Mary and Selina were at my side.

  I cut Mama Lindsay down from the gallows and, with help, wrapped her up. Since Warehouse City is completely wiped out, I doubt anybody will disturb her body. We placed it in a small room in one of the old warehouses that are still in place and were used for quarantine stations. It is unlikely that anybody would disturb this section even if survivors of the city that may have escaped somehow begin to return. I hope to someday return and collect her body. If possible, I will take her to Sunset and bury her next to the memorial marker for Mama Janie.

  The NAA had gone; I guess a very small group was left behind to act as a diversion while the train left. The smell of death was thick in the air as morning broke. Unfortunately, most of that stench comes from all those (the old and apparently unfit for duty) who were executed prior to Dominique’s departure.

  When dawn did break, people were still trickling down from the surrounding hills. So much for this grand plan of Ethan’s; it was a failure.

  I came to the realization that perhaps I was not seeing things clearly. I had a stake in this because my mother and many of the people I knew had been taken…or killed. These tribes were all individual groups. They had survived as long as they did by living on the fringe and NOT belonging to anything. Most of them were between ten or twenty people. Three families was about the max. They engaged in things like arranged marriages and all sorts of ideas that were foreign to me.

  In the end, they dragged their feet and stalled until the threat of danger was gone. All the talk about standing and fighting was bluster. As I walked around the ruins of Warehouse City that morning, I could hear different people making claims as to who had done what to “drive the enemy out” and other equally ridiculous claims.

  Now that the threat was gone, those who had spoken were acting as if they had actually done something. All they had really done was stay hidden well enough to not be found and taken.

  Even Bob and Felicia had proved to be a disappointment. They were Travelers. Nothing more. When it came down to it, they had no stake in this.

  As the bones of Warehouse City were being picked clean, I equipped myself for what I have to assume will be my last journey. I went through the EEF checklist in
my head as I gathered what I would need. Like ghosts, Mary and Selina followed.

  By late in the morning, I was ready to go, but first I had to confront Ethan and his circle. I was hardly surprised to discover them in what had once served as a council chamber for the leaders of Warehouse City. There was a great deal of self-congratulatory nonsense being spoken as I walked in the room.

  “Cowards!”

  That was how I began. The rest is more or less as I remember it. (Mary and Selina have read over my shoulder during this entry and helped with a few points to make this as accurate of an account as I can relate.)

  Every head turned to me as I walked through the door. A few of these people had their feet up on the table. Everybody seemed to be making themselves feel right at home.

  “Little girl,” Ethan said with a scowl, “our efforts have driven this Dominique DuBois and her New American Army from our territory. We embarked on a campaign that the history books will remember as fierce.”

  “The history books will mark you as cowards who simply waited in your holes until the wolf decided it was done hunting!” I slammed the two books I’d been given on the table for emphasis.

  “I may not be my mother…or my father…but I will promise you that this record will show you for what you really are. You were all talk. You had no intention of doing anything to Dominique. It was all for show!

  “The people that you call your tribes are nothing more than a few family members and the only interest you wanted to protect was your own. Now you all strut around like you have done something. All you did was watch and wait until she was gone. And now you strut like roosters that chased off a fox…but the fox left with all the chickens in his mouth that he wanted.

  “Well I am going after Dominique. I may not be able to stop her army, but if I can kill her, it will cut the head off of this monster before it can do any more harm. If I fail…you may not know it right away. But when she returns at the head of a column of soldiers bent on destroying everything in its path…that will be sign enough.

  “But if I succeed…it is me that will return. And I will rebuild Sunset if I have to do it alone and with my bare hands. Then…I will repair the Corridor. And I promise you this…no tribe will ever set foot inside the walls again except to surrender.”

  At first they all stared at me with open mouths. Then…slowly…they started to laugh. I heard it all the way down the hall as I left and exited Warehouse City. My ears burned with a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something else…resolve.

  No, I don’t plan on becoming the next Dominique. I’m not going to assassinate her and then assert myself as the president or anything like that.

  I will kill her or die trying, then I will return to my home. As far as I am concerned, the tribes are like the grasshopper in that old bedtime story about the ant and the grasshopper. They are happy to sit back and let others do for them. That is fine, but I do not think that they fully realize how much they relied on the people of the Corridor.

  We were their trading post. They came for miles and brought their goods to trade with us and each other. None of them were so self-sufficient that they did not need a little something from us. And that was really it…

  Us.

  To the tribes, if you are not actually a member, then you are an outsider; even if you are a member of another tribe. That is why they all have those ridiculous names.

  Inside the walls of the Corridor, it didn’t matter if you were from Warehouse City, Sunset Fortress, or simply one of the people who settled down its length, you were part of a greater whole. That is why we sent the EEF out there to help others prepare settlements. That is why we had regular meetings with the people of the Confederated Tribes.

  The people of the Corridor may not have been perfect…but then, who is? However, we did not turn our back on the world.

  So, we left Warehouse City. I was surprised at who was walking beside me as I headed down the tracks in pursuit of Dominique. If you would have asked me a few weeks ago, I would have sworn it would be Bob and Felicia. I guess I should have known before when I first surrendered. That might sound unfair, after all, I was walking down into an occupied city and giving myself over because they had my mother. But the signs were there and I chose to believe that they were like people I grew up around.

  One of the things that I am counting on is the fact that we did sabotage several points along the railway. Nothing that is not repairable; we didn’t have anything that allowed us to be too intricate. It was mostly prying a piece off here or there—by the way, that is much more difficult than you may think if you have never tried it yourself.

  When the first day came to an end, I was making a fire. Selina came to me and I could tell that she had something on her mind. I knew it could not be something mundane like her wanting to actually watch how I built a fire. When I got it going, I decided to make it easy on her. I asked what was on her mind. Turns out she was wondering where the zombies might be hiding.

  I actually had to explain to her that they were rarer than most people might believe. I told her about the rumor that there was a herd numbering over a million just standing in the aptly named Death Valley. Rumor had it that their eyes had shriveled away to nothing. Also, there was supposedly a place out in the plains of the Midwest…a huge valley of grass surrounded on three sides by a series of cliffs with several hundred thousand just standing there. Most encounters were with singles or small groups. On occasion you might encounter a herd of a hundred or so, but over the decades. Many of the larger groups had come together and formed super-herds which, due to their size had pushed their way into a place and eventually come to a stop in the face of some natural obstacle. The Grand Canyon has stories so fantastic that they are now regarded as myths.

  The second day, we saw a few stragglers that we had to take down. I imagine that the train will attract plenty of attention and it will be us that will have to deal with it. Although, I did notice a few large number kills which is pretty smart. They would not want to bring a bunch of undead with them. By the time they reach their destination, it would be likely that they have a bit of trouble on their hands.

  I don’t know why I didn’t just stick with the train tracks before when I made this trip. While there are spots that leave you exposed, those are easy to go around (so far). And even if they get tricky, I am sure that a person using their head can come to a solution that is workable. That is the key here…I will need to use my head. I cannot let my emotions get the best of me.

  So much is swirling in my head, and as I look at the sleeping figures of Mary and Selina next to the fire, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed.

  Tuesday, March 9th

  Today we thought we had caught up with them. Just outside of the actual city of Portland, heading east along the Columbia River, we spotted a train on the tracks that was not moving and surrounded by hundreds of the undead.

  This was the point where the train actually crosses over into Washington. I guess that might be part of the reason why I did not take this route. If I would have crossed over, I’m not sure that I would have been able to get back. The bridge has been repaired since the dam farther up broke and sent who knows how much water this way, wiping out several small communities, but it was hit pretty hard and I don’t know if I would have been able to use it several months ago. Obviously Dominique’s people came in and took care of it since that event.

  This bridge crosses at an island in the middle of the river that looks like it practically had a city on it judging by the ruins. I do not have any recollection of being out here, but Mary told me that several tribes live there and are not known for being too friendly to people who trespass.

  That is not very encouraging because we are camped in a building that looks out at the Washington side of the river. From the looks, I think it is safe to assume that this place used to sell boats. There are what look like the remnants of docks and dozens of boat-related things everywhere. This little cove shows signs of that flood. Ev
erything has been “washed” to the west as we look north from the dreary ruins of this building.

  Mary did not bother to tell me until we made camp. I asked her why she waited and she said that she didn’t realize where we were until she was out gathering some wood for the fire. She led me to a tree where two bodies are hanging. I have no idea what the story is, but two soldiers from the NAA are dead, strung up by a hangman’s noose.

  Have you ever walked in to the end of a conversation and wondered what the hell people were talking about because you hear something that is just so crazy. Well…that is what I am feeling right now. It doesn’t make sense. Two soldiers…just hanging from a tree. No signs of a big struggle…the bodies do not look like anything strange has been done—other than the hanging that is—and they don’t even have their hands tied.

  The only thing good about camping here tonight is that Mary says there have not been any walkers on this island for over a decade.

  Wednesday, March 10th

  I don’t think I slept all that well last night. I heard a lot of hoots and whistles and other strange noises. I was almost certain that we were going to end up getting grabbed by the people who call this island home.

  When the sun broke, I felt silly…until we went to leave. There was a sign on the upside-down skeleton of a boat. It said simply: If you return…you die.

  I guess Mary wasn’t kidding.

  Thursday, March 11th

  We have been moving along without any real troubles since we left. Sure, we got a nasty note, but if that is the worst thing that happens to me during this trip, life will be pretty sweet.

  Today, it was almost surreal. We had sunshine and blue skies. Mary had us stop early for camp tonight and went down to the river. An hour later, she returned with two of the largest salmon that I have ever seen. We ate so much that I had to unbutton my pants. It has been a while since I felt like this. It was almost like I was…happy.