Zomblog 04: Snoe (6 page)

Tonight I am packing everything I will need. Then, Mama Lindsay says that she will go through my pack tomorrow and make sure I didn’t miss anything.

Things are different here at home now. It seems like Mama Lindsay is nervous. I don’t know what I can say or do to convince her that I won’t just up and leave. I can’t understand how people could see me that way after knowing me all my life. I am very happy living in Corridor 26. I get more than my fill of the wilderness when I leave as an agent of the EEF. I am even looking forward to returning from this mission because all of us have been promised a two week R & R period.

I love my home. I love my bed. And I love my mom. My mom’s name is Lindsay Wells. It does not matter who gave birth to me…she is the person who raised me to become the person that I am today.

Monday, July 9
^th

First night out is always the hardest. You have to get used to the quiet. Oh…and the occasional sound of a zombie. Some moan, and some make that icky “cry baby” sound. Nobody has ever figured out the Crybabies. (That’s what they are called in the field.)

There are a few differences in the zombies from twenty years ago. At least that is what I am told by those who remember. I guess they are even slower now. Also, they don’t move unless they are in an active herd or actually in pursuit of something. They can continue on in pursuit for a few days even after losing sight of their prey, but they are like a wind up toy and eventually run down to a complete halt.

A few weird stories include one related by a Traveller who says that there is a valley in what used to be Utah where a herd of over a hundred thousand walkers are just standing there. They finally came to a halt and nothing has triggered their need to move. Supposedly, in a place called Death Valley, over a million of them have come to a stop and have stood so long that they are buried up to their knees in sand.

Nobody that I know has ever seen these herds with their own eyes, so I can only pass that on as a rumor. However, there is a zombie up near the old zoo that has been standing at the entrance for over six years. Lots of people from Corridor 26 have seen it.

Anyways, we are camped out in what Jeff says used to be an outpost of something called The Salvation Army. I didn’t ask him to specify, but the building is in surprisingly good shape.

We did have to travel through a vast grid of homes. I still can not wrap my mind around people living in such large residences…and still so packed in that close to each other. I can see how the zombies overcame the population like they did, though. People jammed themselves into every piece of ground they could build a house on top. And it seems that if they couldn’t build because of the surrounding landscape, they just ripped it apart until they could.

It is almost embarrassing.

We didn’t see any zombies until just as we set up camp for the night. Actually, we can see hundreds of them down below in the ruins of Old Portland.

I couldn’t get a really good look today because we arrived just around sunset. The shadows were already blending together to form the blanket of darkness that you only find away from the settled areas. I did get enough of a look to be completely in awe of how incredible the fire had to be that destroyed so much of this city.

Also, I have never seen buildings so tall before in my life. What would possess anybody to go up in such things? I was even more amazed when I was told that people lived in some of those buildings!

No Thanks.

Tuesday, July 10
^th

I just know my body is going to hurt tomorrow.

To put it in perspective, yesterday we travelled several miles. We walked through some empty neighborhoods until we reached the heavily wooded hills that separate Old Portland from Corridor 26. (I guess it used to be called the West Hills, not very creative.)

The terrain was the limiting factor in how fast we could travel. There were places that felt like we were walking straight up to the sky. My calves burned, and I woke to some soreness in my legs. No big deal.

Today we might have managed to travel a mile. Yep. One mile. I had a feeling when I woke and actually got a look down into the ruins of the city that it was going to be a busy day. I had no idea.

Shortly after we broke camp and headed down to the ruins, I got my first twinge of what I can only describe as “bladder-squeezing-fear.” We stuck fairly close together as we moved down that first street. I don’t think we got a full block when the first zombie attack occurred.

A hand reached out from under the almost melted ruins of a car. When I say melted, I mean that the car is fused to the road. I have no idea what chain of events led to a zombie wedging in underneath, but when that hand snaked out and caught Phaedra’s booted foot…I think everybody screamed—even Jeff and Rodney.

That was the ringing of the dinner bell. I’ve never in my life seen so many of them. There is a rule that you learn on day one of your training in the EEF:
Always work in pairs.
The reason is simple: you need somebody watching your back in the field.

I was trying to work my way past a small cluster of five when something crashed into my back and sent me sprawling to the concrete. If I had better instincts, I might’ve rolled one way or the other. Instead, I made the rookie mistake of trying to crawl forward for my dropped weapon. That meant I was giving the zombie an open shot at the back of my neck.

Now, before you think I am a total idiot, the standard attire for an EEFer in the field is full leathers, double-lined gloves, and protective eyewear. Also, long hair is a big no-no. You don’t want to give the zombie anything extra to get ahold of. There are other accessories that are optional like vambraces, shin guards, and shields. Mama Lindsay packed the first two; I was just being a little stupid and decided to pass on the extra outerwear because it was promising to be a hot day.

I will never forget the feel of that dead hand as it brushed my cheek. Fortunately, Phaedra was right there to kick it off of me and spear it. That is the first time I’ve ever been touched by a zombie…I pray it is the last.

We managed to fight our way out of the first skirmish and had a chance to retreat back up into the wooded hills. Had we done that, I bet we could have made another attempt to get through the city tomorrow. Some of the zombies might’ve wandered up into the woods, but the hill is steep enough that they wouldn’t be able to walk up it, and they would eventually turn around and stumble away.

We didn’t do that.

Captain Vaughn insisted that we “push on” and try to make a run for a cluster of buildings that he said would offer us a place to regroup. He said that we would be able to go up high enough so that we could actually see our target: The Steel Bridge.

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 12
^th

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 13
^th

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.