Zomblog 04: Snoe (18 page)

Walking around this place, I can barely recognize it as the vibrant and growing community that I entered when I made my first run. The most disturbing is the obvious signs of struggle, but strange lack of bodies. There are blood stains all over the place to go with the burned down shacks and busted down walls.

This just seems so pointless. Why would anybody do this? If this new president wants to gather the remnants of the nation—or at least what remains here in the western part of the country—why would there be so much destruction? If you kill everybody, who is left for you to be president of?

There was one other thing that struck me as odd. Nothing was taken. All the supply houses look untouched except for a little scorching here and there. None of the doors are busted open or anything. Why wouldn’t they take anything?

Wednesday, October 8
^th

It keeps getting worse. All along the Interstate 5 connection to the 217 Corridor there were several fires burning out of control. Felicia made an interesting comment as we stopped for a bite to eat around midday. She said, “Seems like somebody is trying to flush somebody out.”

I thought about it. If Dominique wants Meredith this badly, what would she do if she discovers that Meredith is dead? Even more interesting; what would she do if she found out that her daughter is still alive? If all of this is really about my birth mother, then perhaps it will be up to me to make this stop. I may not be able to fight an army or be some sort of superhero that swoops in and saves the day; however, I can make my presence known.

I decided to start with Felicia. Since she has traveled with me for a while and never been anything but wonderful to me, it was time to let my secret out. Wow, did I feel like an idiot! It went something like this. (I am only able to paraphrase here because the conversation went on for quite a while once I admitted who I am and what my plans are.)

“My name is Snoe Elana Gainey. My mother was Meredith Gainey and my father was Samuel Todd. I have lived my whole life along Corridor 26. When the NAA showed up, I escaped with my Mama Lindsay and a friend. When I discovered that several of my friends were taken by the NAA, I went after them and found that I am nothing like my mother. I am not a one-woman army.”

Felicia said something like, “I know who you are, Snoe. We’ve known who you were within a day of meeting you.”

I felt so stupid. It got worse. “How many young girls are named Snoe? Throw in how you are always scribbling in that journal of yours every night…just like your mom and I dad I’d be willing to bet. Pretty sure they didn’t have any idea how many folks would read them over the coming years. And hell, everybody who read those books since folks started making copies has named their baby Meredith if it was a girl, unless they really hated her that much. And every boy for almost three years is named Sam. We knew why you didn’t tell us…can’t say anybody would blame you. And if what you say about Dominique is even half true, well, you probably got a price on your head by now.”

I guess I got a look on my face that gave away how worried I might be that she would be the one looking to collect any such reward. Felicia has a very pretty laugh…even when it is at you and not with you.

“Girl, if I wanted a bounty for your skinny ass, I woulda sold you to one of the raider groups we passed.”

I was really taken aback by the fact that the three of them had me figured out so quickly. I guess I am just not nearly as clever as I think I am. I do have to admit that this adventure has been a real eye opener. It also made me feel terrible that I kept my identity a secret from them…especially since two of them are gone now.

What sealed the deal with me as far as Felicia is concerned is the fact that she didn’t try to belittle me or talk bad. She understood my choices and even said that Bob and Kenny had felt the same way. When she mentioned Bob’s name, I almost cried.

That was when she broke the news to me:

“My man sprung us. That glass breaking trick works every time with stiffs. They ain’t all that bright. He’s been hanging back on our tail for the last day.”

I was stunned. For a moment, I was a bit of a hypocrite. I felt my blood boil just a bit at that revelation. To find out that Bob was alive and she knew was one thing. To know that she was aware that he was following us was another. I won’t even get into the whole thing about how obviously clueless I was throughout the entire ordeal.

About an hour later, Bob showed up. That was great. Unfortunately we had to break camp and haul ass because he was being chased by a group of what he called “very organized sumbitches.”

We managed to find an old train car. Felicia and I are here now. Bob is, of course, gone again. His plan is to lead them down by the river and hopefully lose them. Felicia and I are to stay put until dark.

Thursday, October 9
^th

I had no choice but to split from Felicia. She and I had a talk last night and we decided that we MUST help Bob. We kept seeing flashes in the dark. The guys chasing him have Molotov’s or something along those lines. Neither of us could stand sitting still while he was out there risking his life for us.

I am on a plateau that looks down into the valley. I know that Mount Hood is hidden someplace behind the heavy cloud cover. This morning started off with a fog so dense that we actually had to stay put for what seemed like forever after what passed for sunrise.

We decided that we would meet at the bridge on Corridor 217 that passes back over Interstate 5. It was the best landmark we could come up with.

The low clouds have trapped the smoke close to the ground, so I have had a scarf over the lower half of my face all day. I don’t know if it helped all that much. I have been hacking and coughing most of the evening.

I’ve seen a few walkers down along the Interstate, but for the past few hours, it has been so silent and still. I can’t just leave. This is where I told Felicia that I would be waiting. I owe it to her…and Bob for that matter. I can wait a couple more days before I finish the journey. I am just a handful of hours away if I don’t get hung up on the last leg.

Friday, October 10
^th

Still nothing. Well…except for the freezing rain. The road is a sheet of ice. My tarp keeps drooping from the weight and I have to knock all the stuff off of it.

Sunday, October 12
^th

Today is the last day that I will wait. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay here much longer. I’ve been hearing this horn that keeps blasting. I finally broke down and counted between blasts. Right around six hundred, it would shatter the silence.

I have noticed an increase in walker activity down on Interstate 5. A mile or so south of my position, I keep seeing them crossing. They are being drawn by the sound. I don’t think that is just another one of Bob’s diversionary tactics. My gut is telling me that this is the NAA.

I know that Felicia and Bob can make it to Corridor 26 without me if it comes to it. Also, I really don’t even know what I am going to find when I get there. If the place is empty…then I guess at least I can hide out for a while and wait in familiar surroundings. If home is like Willamette Refuge, I will have to head for Warehouse City and see if Mama Lindsay and Phaedra made it there.

Monday, October 13
^th

Bob and Felicia are fine.

That is about the only good news that I have right now. I guess a lot has happened since I took off. For starters, a huge section of the retainer wall is torn down and the dead wander the area freely. Sunset Fortress is a blackened rock decorated in unrecognizable bodies that have been strung from the ledges.

This can not simply be about my birth mother. Despite whatever orders were given by this self-proclaimed president, it took willing participants to carry out the orders. These weren’t soldiers or zombies…just people. People that I grew up with.

It just makes no sense. Why would anybody do this? What would drive somebody to this point? I’ve read Meredith’s journal a hundred times. And while I understand now more than ever that a journal can only hold so much…and that when all you hear is one side of a story, you only get half of the picture, I still can see nothing that would merit the sort of hatred that would drive somebody to act out in this way.

I have searched my home and found no signs that Mama Lindsay ever came back to it. It looks the same as I remember it. That is the other part that makes no sense…nothing is taken of any major consequence. While I’m sure that some stuff has probably been scooped up…the area around the Sunset Fortress is not what I would call looted. And the majority of the damage and activity involves the actual building known as the Sunset Fortress. The surrounding “neighborhood” is suffering from nothing more than an infestation of walkers.

One thing that broke my heart was seeing the staggering, lurching shadows as you face west and look down the Corridor. I think of all the hard work and lost lives that made this place what it was, and it just makes me want to cry. However…I will not give anybody that satisfaction. Also, I believe that the day will come when we restore these walls and return to our way of life. The damage is great, but not beyond repair.

Judging by what I see, this has been the situation for quite a few days. My guess is that the people at Warehouse City know by now about the breach. I have no other choice but to head to Warehouse City. If I know Mama Lindsay at all, that will be where she went…where she will be waiting and hoping that I will come back some day. She would not travel, because she knows that it would be too unlikely that our paths ever cross.

I have no choice but to set out in the morning. I spoke with Bob and Felicia about my decision. They said that they really like me, but they have spent too many years struggling to stay alive. They both think that I am on a path destined for death. They said that maybe I have more of Meredith in me than I am willing to admit.

I thanked them both for all that they have done. I said that I understood. Part of me does, but another part of me screams that this is the problem. If we do not come together as one, then we will eventually fall…alone.

I know now what I have gained from this journey: purpose. I don’t know how, but I will bring Corridor 26 back. Stronger. And with an even greater sense of community.

Tuesday, October 14
^th

I said farewell to Bob and Felicia this morning. They are actually staying in my house. They promised not to pick through things. I think they actually felt like Travellers for the first time since we met. They kept saying over and over how they would never pick through my things or the houses around Sunset Fortress. Bob kept insisting that as bad as the damage looked to the fortress, that the damage was mostly cosmetic.

Felicia looked like she was almost ready to cry when I hugged her before setting out. She pressed her mouth to my ear and whispered “I’m sorry.” I’m not sure they were
both
in agreement not to come with me to Warehouse City.

I’ve had to stick to the center of the highway as I head west. The funny thing is, it never dawned on me until today that this is the same stretch of road that my birth father took when he escaped his home after having to put down his ex-wife and my (half) sister (I guess that would be how closely related she and I would be) before setting out and eventually finding the warehouse complex that would give birth to Warehouse City.

The best thing about the Corridor is that it still has the safety structures all down its length. As they created the huge barricade walls down either side, they made these towers. The beauty is that each is accessed through a manhole cover about three hundreds yards away. The thought behind the “secret” access point is that it minimizes the chance that walkers will surround your tower should the need arise to utilize it.

Each of the towers are about forty feet tall. The top floor is a giant platform with angled walls so that it minimizes the chance of being seen. They all have a toilet facility and each is stocked with enough food and water to last a week. There is actually a crew responsible for keeping each one of these clean and freshly supplied. Of course all the food is dried, but it sure beats starving.

One of the many advantages of these towers is the ability to see further up the Corridor. Also, there is a reflector light; it used to be the way information was passed in a relative hurry when the place was being settled. For some reason, it was eventually decided that no outside band of raiders would be a big enough threat to require that the towers remain manned. I wonder if folks still feel that way.

Wednesday, October 15
^th

It sure takes a lot longer to go from one place to another when you have to deal with walkers. I really took for granted what it was like to travel the Corridor without zombies getting in the way. Maybe it is just the fact that this is a walled in and relatively narrow stretch, but it seemed that I was either dodging, hiding from, or killing zombies every time I turned around. The only good thing was that at least ninety percent of the trouble was in front of me.

I did notice a very upsetting trend as my day dragged on. Several of the walkers…are people that I knew. Today, I put down my EEF instructor and the kid from the Revelationists that joined. I got a much better understanding about how this plague— or what ever started things—managed to wipe out the population so quickly. It is one thing to put down scores of undead, it is quite another to start seeing the faces of friends and loved ones coming for you with no recognition…just the desire to feed.