Zomblog 05: Snoe's War Page 4

  “Fair enough,” I said with a nod.

  “I just have one question,” the woman said as she turned to go. “Who are you people? We have lived in peace with the folks from Warehouse City. When did you all decide to start attacking the tribes?”

  “Actually, a military force has captured Warehouse City. Their leader wants to subjugate everybody for some stupid reason. I’m not actually from there…I’m from Sunset Fortress…we were wiped out too.”

  The woman seemed to consider my words for a moment. She nodded and then turned and vanished around the corner of a building that was little more than a pile of burnt wood. Even though I was staring right at her and her kids, they basically seemed to disappear before my eyes.

  Well, that was enough of that for now. I needed to make myself scarce. The problem that I had was that I had absolutely no idea where I was or which direction to go. I heard commotion behind me, so I decided that my best bet was to move in the opposite direction.

  I started at an easy jog. Using all my EEF training, I took in my surroundings and made my way into the ruins of a series of buildings with similar design and features. Any signs that identified this complex were long gone, but it looked like a factory of some sort and there were a lot of transport trucks in rows in one area.

  That would be the easiest way to go to lose anybody who might be on my trail. It would also be the worst place to go because of all the blind spots. The only weapon that any of us recruits had been given was a small baton. This was not a mission where we were expected to deal with the undead, and I now understood why a detachment of soldiers had been sent ahead of us to take out any zombies. We were not really given anything that would constitute as a real weapon. Killing a zombie by beating its head in was not something that you wanted to do if you could help it. And if you were facing more than one…that was basically a death sentence. Even after all these years, the skull is a tough nut to crack.

  I ducked down one of the rows of slowly deteriorating and vine-covered semis. Nature had helped in one aspect. The vines and brambles that were covering these vehicles had turned them into giant, solid rectangles. Even if there might be something underneath one of the trailers, it was basically trapped in their now. The vines were a tough curtain to get through for a person with a blade. Using your hands would take forever.

  The sounds of the tribal village faded as I continued moving. They had to be aware of my absence by now. And it was not like we were able to hide the manner in which we escaped. I knew I didn’t have very much more of a head start. The question was just how intense and determined the search for me would be.

  As I came out the far end of the truck graveyard, I had my answer. I could hear the sounds of yelling and shouting. Somebody was using a megaphone.

  “Snoe Gainey, this is Captain Warren. I know you can hear me…you could not have gotten that far away. You need to turn yourself in before the consequences are too great,” a low-pitched voice called.

  A very tall fence was in my way. I gave it a little bit of a shake. The vines and stuff growing through all the little diamond shaped openings actually helped keep the thing standing. I was not entirely sure if it would support my weight, but this was my way out now. After another shake for good measure, I peeled off my heavy leather jacket and started to climb. When I reached the top, I threw the jacket over the strands of barbed wire that were at the top and slanted away from me. Supposedly this was to keep people on the outside from coming in. I didn’t see how if their form of security could be easily circumvented with something as simple as tossing a coat over it.

  Since it was only ten feet or so, I dropped to the ground. On the plus side, I was over and an enormous bit of rolling grassland stretched out before me. It was a good two or three miles of easy ground and then dense forest. As soon as I was over the first hill, I would be almost invisible. Sure, my path would be easy to follow, but once I made it to the woods, I had no doubt that I could lose any remaining pursuit. The negative was that my coat would be an arrow pointing to my escape route. A soon as they reached the end of the trucks, somebody would see me. Also…I had lost my coat.

  I started at the jogging pace that you learned to master in the EEF. One of the things that they taught you was that our greatest advantage over zombies other than our mind, was our speed. And the beauty was that we just needed to be a bit faster than them to get away. The mistake would be to burn all of your energy right away. So, one of the things that you learned was what the EEF manual called your “All Day Pace”.

  I started for the mountains. I knew that I was going to need to find a weapon soon. Also, as I ran, it dawned on me that I did not have a plan at all. I had a few miles of running ahead. That was the perfect time to come up with one.

  ***

  If this was the enemy, I really had no idea how we had lost to them so far and so fast. I slipped the pitiful attempt that the soldiers made in almost no time and with practically no effort. By the time I had reached the trees and began to move up into the hills, I was settled on my course of action.

  It would take me a few days, but at the moment, it seemed like the best possible plan. It was around that time that I started to really wish I had something to write with in order to keep track of the events as they unfolded. (That is a wish that I am both happy and sad was fulfilled for reasons that you will see later. I had no idea what was happening, or what I had set in to motion with my escape. Had I known…dear God, had I only known.)

  That first night was exciting…initially. By a few hours after dark, I was cold and miserable. It was sometime in November by now and the weather was awful. I was grossly unprepared for being out in it and had to take shelter in a filthy, rundown trailer that was just out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing good that I can say about the place is that it kept me mostly dry.

  I was awoken once in the middle of the night by something pawing at the outside of the trailer. I knew it wasn’t a zombie because of the noises being made. I didn’t dare look, but in the morning I found deep furrows in the siding made by what had to be a pretty big bear.

  As the sun came up, I oriented myself and headed east. It would take two days to get back to Sunset if everything went okay. I should have known better.

  ***

  It was still early, not even noon yet when I realized that I was being followed. Since all I had for a weapon was a baton, I knew that I was in no position for any sort of fight with anything beyond a single zombie. And when it came to the living, I had even worse odds.

  I started to wonder if maybe the soldiers that had met up with our little invasion force had continued the search for me. Whoever they were, they were trying not to be seen, but they were not letting that stop them from tracking me as I traveled through the morning and late into the day.

  I was at a stream filling my one small canteen that I had been equipped and nibbling a small portion of apple. Judging by the texture, I would not want to ration out my remaining two slices much longer. Since I was nearing what had once been a populated area, I was following the ridgeline and deciding where I would go look for a place to spend the night. I could have travelled another few hours, but I was not all that familiar with the region, and therefore, unsure as to how far before I would reach another area that would offer up someplace to stay.

  One of the things in the EEF manual about being out in the wilderness is that if you are alone, it is always preferable to find someplace inside to stay at night. Walkers are only a concern in large numbers when it comes to being trapped in a house or other structure. Since it is unlikely that you would be drawing any attention to yourself, a house is a perfectly acceptable place to camp for the night. A two-story location is ideal; simply find the hatch that opens to the crawlspace above the ceiling.

  I spotted a location that looked promising and started across a large, open field. The grass was at least waist high and so I was being careful to keep an eye out for creepers. Maybe I was too focused on the ground and that is what allow
ed a dozen people to surround me and get within few yards from me before I even noticed that they were there.

  “Can’t say that I seen too many Travelers around these parts lately,” a man’s voice snapped me back to being aware of my surroundings. I cursed myself for my carelessness.

  “Don’t look like no Traveler, she ain’t carryin’ no weapons, ain’t even got a proper pack. Looks to me like some fool kid runnin’ away from one of the colonies,” a woman added with a laugh that sounded more mean than anything else.

  I kept my mouth shut. One thing I learned that they didn’t exactly teach in an EEF manual was that if you kept your mouth shut, most folks would keep talking because they did not like silence. Something about quiet made people nervous. Or at least talkative.

  “She’s carrying one of those metal clubs,” a younger woman said. “Only seen them on those soldiers that been comin’ through. And she’s wearin’ all that gear like those idiots. I think she’s one of them.”

  And there it was. As I looked around, I began to think that they had rehearsed this scene…or perhaps played it out a few times already. This was looking bad. Maybe now would be a good time to break my silence.

  “I’m not one of the soldiers…I was supposed to be in training and I escaped,” I said.

  “Little slip of a thing like you? I imagine it probably wasn’t all that hard. Looks to me like you’d pure disappear if you turned sideways,” the first man who’d spoke said while rubbing his hand over his stubbled face.

  “Hard to believe that’s a girl,” another man’s voice spoke from behind me. “Ain’t got much meat on her bones, that’s for sure.”

  I spun to face this person with my hands on my hips. “Bob Hall, if I tell Felicia that you spoke to me that way…I bet she’d give you a swift kick.”

  I ran to the outstretched arms of the big man. I’d met Bob and his wife Felicia when I had foolishly set off east thinking that I was going to march into Irony, USA and rescue all the people from my community who had been taken by the NAA when they’d first struck. I’d been with them for several days before revealing my identity, only to discover that they had already figured it out. Bob and Felicia Hall were also the people I had handed my journal over to when I had turned myself in to Dominique and her invaders at Warehouse City.

  “Never thought I would see you again, little girl,” Bob said with a smile.

  “Yeah, well…my reasons for staying…”

  I felt something squeeze my throat and heart at the same time and realized that I was crying. I had worked so hard to keep myself together that I had not allowed myself to think about the fate that Dominique had relegated to my mother.

  Once the tears began, it was like there would never be an end to them. I folded into the arms of Bob Hall and I bawled myself silly. My home was gone, all the people that I knew were either captured, dead, or just gone. Everything that kept my life together was destroyed…by one crazy bitch who could not let the past just fade away.

  I wiped at my eyes once I felt like the worst was over. At some point, I guess all the other people who had been part of the group with Bob slipped away. Bob took my hand and we walked in silence back to the little village that he and Felicia had apparently decided to settle down in—for the time being at least.

  ***

  “Wait, so you are saying that this girl, Dominique DuBois is not only alive, but that she has assassinated the President of New America and decided that she wants to basically conquer every independent community and tribal society and become some sort of—” Rick Brunson was sputtering.

  “For the however many-eth time…” I was getting tired of this conversation running in the same stupid circle. “Yes, she wants to be some sort of warlord. I think she has something big in mind, this cannot just be some weird revenge kick.”

  “I think we have heard enough for tonight,” Felicia said, patting my hand. “Tomorrow we can discuss what to do and who to tell, but this child needs some food and a good night’s sleep.”

  People began wishing each other well and saying good night, but Felicia and Bob were already leading me out of the tent. I was tired, but not too tired to notice all the people hanging around outside. Curiosity was clear on more than one face and nobody seemed to be trying to hide it.

  I don’t remember anything after that, including whatever it was that I ate before falling asleep. Apparently I was more tired than I realized.

  When I woke up, it actually took me a few minutes to get my brain caught up on where I was and what had happened. I climbed out of the bed I had no recollection of climbing in to. Imagine my surprise when Felicia greeted me outside and informed me that I had slept for four days! In that time, quite a lot had occurred.

  A scouting party had run into a pair of soldiers and killed one while capturing the other. He was currently being questioned by Rick and a few others. Since there was a crowd standing around outside a small hut and the occasional muffled yelp could be heard, it wasn’t hard to figure out where the questioning was taking place.

  “Also…we need to talk, Snoe,” Felicia said after a moment where she gave me a looking over like she was trying to figure something out.

  “Okay,” I said with a nod as I scooped out a bowl of the meaty stew that was simmering in a pot over a nice fire that was doing a great job of keeping the chill in the air from getting a grip on me.

  “It’s about your mom.”

  I heard that sentence and right away I could tell that I did not want to hear what she would say next. She was going to tell me that my mother had met her end in that bizarre cube that had already claimed Jenifer; but I already knew that.

  “Now…mind you, we only have the word of that man in there to go by…and I would not necessarily believe anything that comes out of the mouth of somebody that is being tortured…”

  She said the word “tortured” like it was no big deal. I was not sure what sorts of things happened to Travelers to make them so able to be matter-of-fact with something as horrible and cruel as torture, but hoped that my heart never turned so cold that it did not break just a little at the idea of one human being using pain to get another to speak or do the torturer’s bidding.

  “It seems that your mother was publically hanged the day you escaped.”

  The words slammed into me and I have no idea how I ended up on the ground staring up at Felicia. The bowl I had been about to dig into had fallen from my hands, but it didn’t matter because I was no longer even the slightest bit hungry.

  “That’s not true,” I insisted. “They had her in that cube.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Felicia said. “And like I said, I wouldn’t exactly take the word of somebody being tortured. People say a lot of things to try and get out from what is being done.”

  I got up and started towards where this person was being interrogated. A couple of people must have tried to slow me down, but after I pushed through them, Felicia was at my side and telling people to back off.

  There was a guy standing at the entrance to the tent. Quite honestly, he looked like he would rather be anyplace else at the moment. And from the sounds coming from inside, I guess I could understand. Once again I found myself praying that I never became immune to emotion or feeling to the point that I could so easily tune out another person’s suffering.

  “I want to talk to him!” I blurted as I entered the tent.

  I have heard about cameras. I have seen photos and understand what they are and how they work. We don’t have anything like that now. There are people who draw or paint, but that is really not the same. At that exact moment, I wished for one of those things so that each of the men standing around that table could see the looks on their faces. No matter how much bluster and denial they could muster, they would not be able to deny the fact that each of them knew deep in his heart that he was doing something wrong.

  “Snoe…” Bob was the first to recover and came towards me with his hands out as if he meant to shield me from
what was so easy to see just a few feet away.

  “I want to talk to him,” I repeated. “Felicia says that he has admitted to seeing my mother hanged the other day. I want to talk to him right now.”

  “Let her pass,” another man spoke up. This one was a little taller than Bob who was easily six and a half feet tall.

  “I don’t think that is a good idea,” another man said.

  This one was a short, pudgy, balding man who looked like he had been dunked in a trough of blood. His face was splattered and for some reason, my eyes fixated on a single drop that grew and grew on his chin until it simply could not defy gravity for another second.

  Despite his appearance, he had the expression of a man who had been caught in some terrible act. He also looked like he did not care and that I had just interrupted him in the middle of something very important and he wanted me gone. Not because he—like the others—was embarrassed by his actions. Rather, I was keeping him from getting back to it and he really wanted to resume whatever he had been doing a moment ago.

  “Do you know who that is?” Bob asked.

  “I could care less,” the pudgy man remarked, setting down a long metal rolling pin that was slick with blood.

  “She is Snoe Gainey,” Bob whispered like it meant way more than it should.

  In a flash, the pudgy man was now studying me in a way that I was not at all comfortable with. And were it not for my mother and what I had heard regarding her death. I might have noticed…or paid attention to that look.

  I pushed past and took a spot beside the table this man was strapped down to and I tried to keep my focus on his face…such as it was. He could only really look out of one eye, and that had to be rough considering that it was barely a razor-fine slit. I tried to imagine what this man might look like in a normal situation and really could not. He was a bloody mess, and he was so swollen and misshapen that it looked like a huge lump of clay that had been tossed on the floor for the children to do with as they wished.