Zomblog 04: Snoe (9 page)

Since nobody—meaning Phaedra or Mama Lindsay—was paying me any attention, I climbed the wall and took a look. There is a stretch of the old highway that climbs a long gradual hill. It actually connects with the 217 Corridor up that way a bit. Anyways, I was fairly certain that I saw a few flashes from some far off light source up that way. I didn’t catch it in time, but it was rhythmic in nature so I am guessing Morse code.

Of course, about an hour after the attack, we had to send teams to the walls to repel the undead drawn by all the noise and flames. The normal noise from our community draws its own share, but the sounds from the explosions travel a lot further, and therefore, it brings in walkers from greater distances that may have not budged in a while.

There is one more thing that I wanted to make note of here. That one zombie that has been standing stationary for so long is still there. It apparently did not see the need to investigate.

As for the day, most of it was spent getting this place ready for another attack. All of the farming teams were kept in. All members, past and present, of the EEF were called in for a briefing. Two teams were sent on scouting missions. I actually felt a nibble of disappointment when I was not one of the individuals chosen.

I have never seen this place so hectic. I guess the hardest part for me to understand is why any of this matters. Why now? Why would the NAA transform to an organization that has been famous for helping all of the communities, and now they want to conquer them? It makes no sense. I tried to figure how they might go about enforcing any sort of rule and nothing seems feasible.

So, what the zombies could not do in the past twenty years, it looks like we are rushing to do on our own. Meredith used to fluctuate on her feelings about how long we could last as a society…she didn’t have a very optimistic view of our chances.

I hate to say it…but I think I am starting to see why.

Wednesday, August 1st

Tonight I am outside the walls of Corridor 26. I was asked to find an observation post at the top of the hill. I headed to the zoo and found a spot. I think this is where that first skirmish with The Genesis Brotherhood took place. Here or someplace close. I am just past what I imagine to have been some sort of outdoor theater. The concrete stage sits at the bottom of the overgrown bowl-shaped depression. I didn’t venture down there, the growth was much too thick, but I saw what looked like the remnants of a set of crosses and also what looks like a giant circular cage.

From the spot I am dug in at, I can see the majority of Old Portland down below. My only problem now is that I can see all the way across the enormous valley to the beautiful mountain that sits there…a timeless icon. It has been there since long before us, and it will be there long after we are no longer a memory. Of course, at this rate, it won’t take long.

So, I sit in my little notch in the fringe and watch. I have a great set of binoculars (given to me on loan by Mama Lindsay with about a million warnings and tips on how to care for them properly) and a note pad. I am supposed to jot everything down that I see. Now that the shadows have fallen, I can’t see anything…except for hundreds of campfires on the roofs of several of the buildings.

This is my first night by myself on a mission…ever. It’s kinda exciting.

Thursday, August 2
^nd

Something is going on. I watched a train pull out of Old Portland just after sunrise. It was headed west, that means it is on its way to Corridor 26. However, at the same time, there were several big explosions around the perimeter of the city.

Also, what I first thought were just echoes turned out to be more explosions. I am only guessing because I can’t see, but it seemed to me that they were coming from the area along the 217 Corridor where all those free tribes are located.

I knew it was a different series of explosions when the dark plumes started to rise high in the sky. I counted at least five from that direction and another seven around Old Portland.

The crazy thing is that they all happened at almost the exact same time. It was unlike anything I have ever seen or can recall anybody talking about. This is new…and whatever it is, it is bad. Very bad.

I am now torn. My mission was to stay here and take notes of what I saw in the log book that they gave me. I was supposed to do this until somebody comes for me to relieve me at my post or tell me to pack it in.

I keep climbing out of my spot and making my way to a place on the hill where I can see better towards the direction of Corridor 26. I don’t know what I will do if I see one or more of those clouds rising from the direction of my home. I do know that none of this makes any sense.

Why now? Why would this self-proclaimed President of New America want to try and attack this area? Is she doing the same everywhere else? Or is this really something as petty as her believing that she may be striking back at Meredith?

The morning I was set to leave on this mission, Jenifer—Madame President—stopped in to see Mama Lindsay. They must’ve thought that I would try and squeeze every second of sleep out of my bed as I could on that last day. They talked a lot about Meredith and Dominique. I guess I didn’t realize until then that Jenifer holds that woman responsible for her “condition.” It seems reasonable considering it was during that mission to end The Genesis Brotherhood that she suffered all the burns. Still, how long can anybody carry a grudge?

Friday, August 3
^rd

I head back to Corridor 26 as soon as it is light enough to see without risking falling and breaking my neck. Late this afternoon I heard a series of explosions. I scurried out of my observation post and climbed to the top of the hill in order to look back towards home.

Dozens of pillars of smoke are rising from that way. No, I don’t think that I can single-handedly make a difference. However, those are my friends and family. I need to help.

Sunday, August 5
^th

The damage is extensive and there are still dead bodies littering the area. I am on a ridge looking down into the confines of Corridor 26’s east end. This is basically where I grew up. This is where Sunset Fortress is as well as a few dozen households.

I would guess the entire population of Corridor 26 from Sunset Fortress out to Warehouse City is maybe ten thousand all along the thirty or forty mile long, two mile wide strip. That feels like a HUGE number to me, but that is the one I seem to remember hearing from Mama Lindsay and Jenifer.

A six-car train is stopped just inside the North Gate. I can see a bunch of figures dressed in dark outfits that I have to assume to be uniforms. I see small clusters of these uniformed types walking around freely, but not much movement from anybody else. My people are either confined indoors or something along those lines.

The side of Sunset Fortress that I can see is blackened from ground floor to the top. I don’t want to think about the fire that caused that kind of damage, or about what it did to the people trapped inside.

One of the most upsetting sights is a gallows. Using my binoculars, I can see a common theme among those hanging from the two dozen or so ropes…female.

I sit here now wondering what I am going to do.

Monday, August 6
^th

His name is Grant Koeneke. (I had to ask him how to pronounce that last name about five times; Koi-na-key…and then I needed to know how to spell it.) He is a soldier in the NAA. He is also my prisoner.

I was sitting here watching and debating what I should do when I heard something. I scrunched down and hid in the brush until he walked right by me. I got lucky when he obviously thought he was alone and went to use the bathroom. A person is never as vulnerable as when they doing their personal business.

So, once he got his pants up, I tied him up real good and held a very sharp blade to his throat with the understanding that a scream would be a silly thing to use his last words on. I wish I knew what I was doing because I could ask better questions. Still, with what I asked and what he answered—provided that he wasn’t telling a bunch of lies—I found out some interesting things.

Obviously the new president is not aware that there was a third book. Also, she does not seem to be aware that Meredith is truly dead. It appears that the NAA faction that she has under her control has already relocated. After a nasty fight with forces loyal to the assassinated president, they bugged out of NORAD.

Dominique is based in Irony, USA.

Tuesday, August 7
^th

A second train showed up today. The first one headed west…most likely down to Warehouse City. If what this soldier says is true, they probably have tortured enough people and gotten the same information about Meredith to move down the line. They will want to confirm it.

I asked him what the big deal was about one person. He says that he doesn’t know; he just follows orders. What the hell kind of answer is that?

Grant says that once they dealt with the “Meredith situation” to their satisfaction, the orders were to put elements in place to ensure we came in line with the “edicts and expectations” of the President of New America.

The thing is, the whole time this guy talked…I just wanted to slap him. He has this attitude like his shit doesn’t stink. I got news…he may forget how I captured him, and I can attest that it smells just like everybody else’s.

Looking down a few times, I was unfortunate enough to see another batch of women brought out to the gallows. I didn’t watch when they dropped them through the trap door, but I promised myself that if I ever find out the identity of that person who pulled the lever, I may actually be compelled to take a human life.

Wednesday, August 8
^th

I knew that there was no way I could just kill this guy in cold blood. I also knew that I couldn’t take him with me. I couldn’t see any sort of clear solution. In the end, I hope I made the correct choice. I left him tied up, but if he wriggles and crawls on his belly, he will make it to the knife.

Maybe I was being petty, but he is gonna have to get his hands dirty when he retrieves it, and that is the
only
way he will get free of the bindings I trussed him up with. I let him see me place the knife in the latrine hole.

I moved down closer to the Corridor. I am west of the scorched Sunset Fortress in some old business complex. I can’t see anything from here, but I will be aware when the train leaves, or worse, if the one that headed to Warehouse City returns.

I feel so lost. I know that there is a lot I am not writing down, but every time I pick up my pencil, my mind wanders. I am scared for Mama Lindsay, for Jenifer, and even for Phaedra. I also know that there isn’t a damn thing I can do to help or save anybody. I’m one person. I’m not some sort of superhero.

I’ve read old stories—books are something highly valued and precious in this society and libraries are almost as valued as what I gather churches used to be in the Old World—and they always have a hero. These heroes have the answers…it may take them a few minutes, and it seems as if they always get slapped down a few times before they overcome.

Maybe that is why folks are so fascinated with Sam and Meredith’s books. They didn’t seem to have very many answers…often they were wrong…and in the end, neither managed to overcome. In fact, not much good happens to either of them at all when you get down to the nitty gritty.

So I will keep hidden. I never revealed my identity to that soldier. He doesn’t seem like the type to admit he got ambushed and held captive by a girl. That is really a funny thing to count on, but it has been my limited experience that you can always count on the male ego.

Thursday, August 9
^th

Another group of black plumes rose into the sky early this morning. In fact, by the time the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, they were hundreds of feet high which means the attack probably came before dawn.

I know for a fact that Warehouse City has a formidable defense. I bet the NAA took some serious casualties. Sunset Fortress has much fewer citizens in and around it. I didn’t see more than a couple hundred soldiers come from the trains. And of course now I know at least one question I should’ve asked.

As for my neck of the woods, I actually had to take down a damn crybaby this afternoon. I realized as soon as I heard that sound that I’d not seen any zombies in the past two days. I wonder if they are confused with all the noise. It has been pretty hectic the past seventy-two hours. This has made me realize just how quiet our communities are. Even with the everyday life taking place, we are a very quiet society. I bet somebody could do a study on it and call it something to do with our evolution.

The NAA are decidedly
not
quiet. If they leave or are eventually driven off, I bet we will be cleaning up incoming zombies for months. Speaking of…

I’d heard something wandering around on the bottom floor making all kinds of noise. I had to go check it out and hope for the best. I was thankful that it was only a single. Unfortunately, it was fresh…one of our people. I recognize her from the big kitchen. She was about Meredith’s age. She made the best cookies ever. She must’ve been one of the immune who suffered a bite or something at some time. She didn’t have a scratch on her, but the ugly chaffing around her throat gives away her cause of death as being one of those hung.

I did something a little stupid. I remembered Rodney talking about Captain Vaughn, and how he watched over him the night he got attacked. I wondered if she might recognize me from all those days of plucking cookies from her tray.