Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (102 page)

Word came in this morning that we will begin conducting raids on the NAA. I guess three more villages have met with the same terrible fate as the one where the notice was posted. No more notes, though. I guess the time for talking is over.

I am feeling better. Whatever was on that dart had me sick for a few days, and I kept having the strangest dreams. Mary checked me out pretty intensely before giving me the green light to join the team on the first raid.

***

There were twelve of us on the mission. We cut through some dense forest; the entire first day was uphill. By nightfall, we were seeing snow on the ground. The plan was to hit a large group of NAA soldiers that were on the way back from raiding a village.

Funny thing, though. Their intel was faulty and the village was actually abandoned. During Ginger’s interrogation it was discovered that they had a certain place to leave information for Dominique and the NAA.

Nobody was foolish enough to believe that they would not acquire other assets, or that Eric Spujt and Greg might be their only ones. We were really just sending a message that this particular well had gone dry.

As morning broke, we set up in these trees that gave us a perfect view down to the trail that the NAA would be using to return to Warehouse City. All of us were in position with cros
sbows. Also, a series of traps had been rigged.

The arrival of the soldiers was announced with a loud snap and thud as a trip line was triggered that sent a pine log swinging down into their path. The first few soldiers were practically sha
ttered by the force of the blow and flew back into the others. A whistle sounded signaling for us to open fire.

This is where my life changed.

I sighted in on the first soldier I could and felt my finger tighten on the trigger…but I couldn’t fire. Not at first. However, as I looked through the scope, I saw another of my comrades have no such qualms. A bolt caught the NAA soldier in the chest and sent him sprawling.

I shook off the queasy feeling that was trying to take hold and found another soldier. By now, it was chaos. People were yelling and screaming. It was a rout. The NAA soldiers were on the run. That caused several of them to trigger the traps that were put in place for them further down the trail. The one I found was running away, presenting me with a big target of that person’s back.

Once again I felt my finger tighten almost to the point of firing, but I just could not make myself apply that extra little bit that would send a bolt into the body of a living being. Then, in a flash, I pictured Mama Lindsay. I felt my throat close as my mouth went dry, and my heart seemed to be squeezed by a giant fist.

I pulled the trigger.

***

That moment has played a million times in my head since then. It was made more vivid by the fact that the person chose that exact and inopportune moment to look back. I saw his face as clearly as if he were standing directly in front of me. It is a face that I see every single time that I close my eyes. And it is the face that I have seen on every person since that day when I must take the life of another human being.

***

We returned to the Grizzly tribe’s camp the next day. Our messenger went to report of our success.

Within two days, Ethan sent runners to us and all the other tribes in the area that scouts were seeing an increase in activity within the grounds of Warehouse City.

Over the next several days, other tribes were engaged in the same sort of activity as we had; with varying results. There was only one instance where things went poorly for one of the tribal ambush teams.

The one survivor said that it was clear right away that they were expected. That meant there was already a leak somewhere. That knowledge served to ramp up the paranoia.

One of my history classes taught about the witch trials in a place called Salem, Massachusetts. From what I recall, the pe
ople in that town could and did make accusations just to get rid of somebody that they did not like.

When the first accusation came in the Grizzly camp, I guess I should have seen it coming. After all, I was the new pe
rson…the outsider. At that point, nobody in the tribe with the exception of Felicia, Bob, and Mary knew who I really was. The fact that my name was Snoe was no big deal. Lots of people in the Corridor were named Snoe, Meredith, and Sam.

It was a short process, and eventually it was decided that the accusation was false. It seemed that some girl thought that I was spending too much time with her boyfriend. The fact that we were assigned on the same patrol on three different occasions was apparently enough for her to suspect that he and I were a thing. The problem was that I actually did not even know the guy by name.

On five occasions over the next few months, word was sent from other tribes that actual traitors had been uncovered. The worst was when one of the people who was supposedly a member of Ethan’s staff, and also a longtime friend, was discovered. His excuse was that a family member was being held at Warehouse City. Ethan had him executed.

It was almost a month later when Ethan sent the word out to all tribes. We would be assembling in the ruins of a stadium. The rumor was that we would be preparing for something along the lines of a major attack. That caused a lot of concern. The reality was that, while we had done well in harassing the NAA, we had sabotaged the rail system that they used to transport people east for whatever they were planning and all but eliminated their supply of recruits, we could not hope to face them in a stand up fight.

However, we had expected Dominique to leave long ago, yet she remained at Warehouse City for whatever reason. Ethan had made up his mind that we would not be rid of her unless we burned her out of Warehouse City and forced her to move.

By then, I had taken the lives of eleven men and women. I kept track on the butt of my crossbow. I could still remember each face more or less. I was still (and believe I will always be) haunted by the face of that first kill.

When I heard the plan, I began making my own. I knew that a part of me would never find peace until Dominique was dead. The thing was, I now realized that I would not have been able to kill her in those first months. I did not have the stomach for it. Now that this little campaign was almost a half a year old, I still did not enjoy killing living people, but I knew that I was able.

I had a feeling deep down that, once this newest little plan of Ethan’s was put into play, the time would come. Dominique and I were on a collision course and only one of us would be able to survive the outcome.

I was packing my bag when Mary, Felicia, and Bob came into the tent. In their hands was a small package. Mary handed it to me.

“With everything that is about to happen, we thought it was only fitting that you have this,” Mary said.

“After all,” Bob had a smile on his face as I began to tear away the wrapping, “somebody is going to need to keep account of what happens these next few days or weeks. I have a feeling history is going to be made.”

Inside the package was a pair of worn-looking, leather bound books. The pages were blank.

Monday, March 1
st

Today we set out on what will be an event that many believe will decide the fate and history of every person for hundreds of miles. I tried my best to find another way to put this because I did not want to over-dramatize things, but that really is the general feeling.

So, the plan (at least as much as I feel comfortable sharing here…just in case) is that there will be several teams of ten. We will be spread out in an arc around Warehouse City and at a sp
ecific time on a specific day, we will be hitting the city en masse.

In the meantime, we have been told to act independently and make as much trouble for Dominique and her people as possible. I wonder if anybody else managed to be as unlucky as we did today.

So, my group consists of me (obviously), Mary, Bob, Felicia, and six others. Of that six, I have only really spoken with one of them. Her name is Selina Madison. She has no idea who I am and didn’t even bat an eye when the team was introducing themselves to each other and I said my name. The other five were a mixture of raised eyebrows and curious looks. I have seen both enough in my life to know that they were wondering if I might be “that” Snoe.

Selina has beautiful skin, but the roughest, most calloused hands that I have ever seen or felt in my life. Her blonde hair is barely longer than a crew-cut and she is missing one of her u
pper front teeth. Now, after all that you might be wondering if she is scary. Actually, she has a very round and pretty face with such bright blue eyes that they almost look like they aren’t real, and the cutest little nose ever.

Since Selina didn’t react, I teamed up with her for the first leg of the trip today as the advance scout. We were on a cru
mbling overpass when I saw several black-uniformed people leading a group that were attached to a long length of chain. Each of the prisoners was manacled and cuffed.

I kept my eye on the procession while Selina went back and told the others. I half-expected everybody to decide to just let them pass untouched. After all, there were at least forty soldiers acting as escort. When the word came from Bob that we had to at least try, I was almost as scared as I was excited.

We moved around and put ourselves in a position that would intercept them because we had to assume that they were headed for Warehouse City. When almost an hour passed without any sign of them, Bob told us all to stay put while he went to check out the situation. When he returned, I knew the news was bad.

It seems that Dominique has put her rail system to use. That has me wondering what else might be going on inside War
ehouse City. Bob said that there was signs of activity near the train tracks just beyond the ridge that we were set up and waiting to unleash our ambush from.

We don’t have anything that would allow us to do any si
gnificant damage to the rails. I felt terrible because we did nothing. While it is obvious that any sort of open and unplanned attack would end badly for us, I still feel like I let those people down.

If the people are still being shipped to Irony, they are still so far away that it is unlikely we will ever be able to help them. If they have been sent even further—that place called NORAD for instance—it is a certainty. That might as well be on the moon.

Tonight, as we make camp, I wonder if we are simply outmatched and wasting our time.

Tuesday, March 2
nd

A light rain fell most of the day. We ran into a scouting party that was hiding out in a huge ruined warehouse. They were quite helpful. We have learned (from the one survivor that Mary and Bob questioned) that Dominique is preparing to leave. It seems that she is satisfied with her work here.

We also discovered exactly what she is gearing up for.

One of the most common ideas thrown around was that perhaps she was putting herself in position to take Vegas. That is part of it. But she has an even bigger goal in sight. It seems that she wants to take down the Confederated Tribes.

She wants Oklahoma.

I asked Bob how he could be so sure that the person he questioned was not just feeding us bad information to throw us off. He made a face and glanced at Mary. She ended up being the one to answer.

“He was given the choice of a quick death or being castrated and left staked to the ground for the walkers,” Mary said.

I didn’t ask if they would have really done such a thing. Mostly because I didn’t want to know. After all, we are supposed to be the “good” guys. Right?

Wednesday, March 3
rd

Selina and I have taken a position just about a half mile away from where Bob and Mary had chosen to make camp. It allows us a perfect view down into Warehouse City.

I really have nobody but myself to blame.

When we reached the spot where Bob said Ethan had indicated that we wait, he asked for volunteers to go over the ridge and keep watch on Warehouse City. Since I was still a little bothered by what Mary and Bob had done to gather information, I volunteered. Selina was right there beside me.

We found a great spot in some lush pines and set up. I took a look to see if I could spot anything worth noting. My mother is still hanging from the gallows. The worst part was that I really had to focus in on her to recognize her. It looks like hanging was only part of the punishment dealt out by what I now consider one of the most evil people to ever exist.

I don’t know how long I sat there and stared at the beaten, disfigured body of Mama Lindsay, but it was apparently a while because eventually Selina had to pull on my arm to get my attention. A handful of walkers were close enough to be a concern. After we dealt with them, Selina asked me what I had seen down in Warehouse City that was so hypnotizing.

I told her. But once I started talking, I guess I just kept g
oing. 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 tel
ling 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 st
ory.

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 fo
rever. 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 4
th

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 5
th

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 som
ething 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 8
th

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 b
ehind 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.