Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (117 page)

So we rode hard until we spotted the trailing edge of General Carson’s army. There are more wagons than I knew existed. The best estimate of this force’s numbers put them somewhere around fifty thousand!

When the scouts returned and gave those numbers, I felt my heart sink. All of this seemed to have been for nothing. How could we hope to stand against such a force? At the most, I would put our numbers at maybe five hundred…and that is probably stretching it.

“Do you think we were going to line up on one side of a field with them on the other?” Angel laughed when she noticed my reaction.

“Anything we do is just going to get us all killed,” I said with a sigh. “There is no way we can hope to fight an army that size.”

I wasn’t even taking into consideration the sort of firepower that this army wielded. At that moment, I was just thinking about the numbers…pure and simple.

“You need to have more faith.” Angel touched my cheek gently and gave me the kindest smile I have ever seen.

I still don’t see how, but it would appear that I am the only person suffering from this feeling of doom and doubt. The camp is busy with the normal activity. I even see smiles and hear laughter.

Monday, August 15
t
h

We rode west for two days, staying just far enough away from that massive army to be able to see the cloud that they kicked up. Who knew that many people would cause such a large cloud of dust? We are several miles away and have no trouble following them. Also, at night, they actually cause a glow on the horizon to appear when it gets dark!

Yesterday, we received news that two more settlements were basically plowed under by General Carson. The citizens were given the choice to join or die. Not much of a choice if you ask me.

So now my question is this: when this army rolls into battle, will these people turn on their captors? Why would you fight for them under such conditions?

I guess only time will tell. Angel says that I do not unde
rstand. She says that these people have fallen in with General Carson, and it is likely that their families are being held prisoner. That means they will fight for their families, not for the general. That makes them far more dangerous.

We are crossing over some mountains the next few days. I know from hearing Jenifer and Mama Janie talk about it that there are several communities along what is known as Corridor Five. This was a well-travelled area that had a reputation for b
eing fairly dangerous. The communities along that stretch were supposedly pretty rough. Also, if what they said was true, there is a very nasty gang that is known to roam the area.

I guess there was a state prison located somewhere near what used to be the city of Salem, Oregon. This prison suppo
sedly had concrete walls that were thirty feet high. When the zombies came, that place fell to the inmates. If you believe the stories, a lot of them actually went out and brought back their families.

Nobody passes through that area of Corridor Five without paying some sort of toll. Those folks became entirely self-sufficient and did not need to trade or barter with anybody. I guess they have farmland and industry in abundance.

About ten years ago, a group of delegates from that area come to Corridor 26. They came to try and make the same deal that was eventually made with the NAA. They had construction capabilities and when the NAA tried to make a deal with them, the rumor is that they killed all but one of the emissaries. That poor lucky person got to carry back the heads of the others as the answer.

Maybe we should have taken them up on it. All they asked in return was for open trade, for us to support their defense force by offering at least three men or women per year, and that they be allowed to set up a recruiting office.

I guess the stigma of who they were was just too great. The president at the time sent them away and I suppose it was not in the friendliest of manners.

Back then, there were still expeditionary forces under the NAA banner that made regular trips through our area and as far north as Alaska from what I recall hearing. The NAA was seen as a sort of aid, and I imagine that it seemed okay since they were supposedly being run by whatever remnants of the Old World United States government that had made it to that NORAD place and set up base.

I recall this one person that Sam wrote about named Al Godwin. He had been found with cuffs still on his wrists. When things went bad on a run, it was immediately assumed that Al was back to being a bad guy. I know for a fact that Tom Langston never forgot, and when he built the first school house back when Corridor 26 was still being settled, he called it the Al Godwin Education and Community Center.

I know that the EEF manual has a very detailed description of area landmarks in what is called the Penitentiary Zone. You are told to avoid contact with anybody from that area at all costs.

And now…

Now I am heading right for it.

Thursday, August 18
th

They are not shy about letting you know what lies ahead.

We are still about fifty or so miles out, but there are signs saying this:

You are heading into land claimed by FreeCon. We do not recognize any authority except our own. Representatives of any so-called government on behalf of a state and a nation that saw us as disposable will be killed. If we wanted to talk with or negotiate with you, we would have done so by now. Leave us alone to go about our business and turn back. There will be no warnings.

Not the most hospitable bunch. Angel and the others did not seem to notice or care.

Monday, August 22
nd

I guess I should not be surprised that the Natives have people here. I imagine that means I should get you caught up here with the past few days’ events.

We were riding north. What is it with crucifying people? The side of the road was an alley between rows of these huge crosses containing bodies in various states of decomposition. The only good thing is that it seems they chose to keep them above the reach of the undead, although, judging by the looks, I’d say that might not have exactly been an act of mercy.

I got a good eyeful of what had to have been a torturous ending. The people had what looked like enormous metal spikes driven through their wrists and feet which were nailed to a little wooden wedge. Over time, some of the arms look to have eventually torn away and the body is twisted at an awkward angle that makes me wince and cringe just thinking about it.

I noticed that some of the males have had their privates cut off. There a few other forms of mutilation. I saw a few missing hands, and it took me a while to make sense out what it was that seemed so off, but I eventually figured it out. Some of them have had their tongues cut out.

Of course you really do not get a good look at the damage until you get to the ones closest to the City of the Walls. I’d never seen a real prison before, and I know that my dad was captured by the residents of one out east, but that place just had really tall fences. This place does in fact have enormous walls. However, they have secured a great deal of land around that central facility. They did not play around with stacking cars or any of that sort of thing. They just continued to add on to their walls.

Freetown would actually give Las Vegas a run for its mo
ney. I do not know how this place could be here and we not be more aware of its presence up in Corridor 26. This town/city is huge and has a combination of solar, wind, and steam power up and running that would make even Warehouse City jealous.

There are schools, stores, and even a playhouse. I mean a house where they put on shows! Since I imagine there are no worries about the original owners coming around and deman
ding they stop…or pay up, they apparently turn old movies into live productions.

I may have grown up in the post zombie world, but there are some things from the Old World that are iconic. One such thing is this movie series called Star Wars. Now, personally, I heard Mama Janie talk about it, but I guess you had to actually see those movies to get it, because they just seemed too far out there for me. Space ships and robots? Whatever makes you happy, I guess.

Anyways, the first night in, we were asked as honored guests (I will get back to that later), to attend the opening night stage show of Star Wars. I sat next to this old guy named Mel Tufo. He almost cried when this little blue and white thing that looked like a giant, upside down drinking glass on wheels came out beeping and whistling.

“I wanted to be Artoo when I grew up,” he said to me du
ring the intermission. “I think I went as that little droid for Halloween every year until I was twelve and thought I was too cool to trick-or-treat. I actually met my wife at a Star Wars convention. She was dressed as the Jabba’s Palace version of Princess Leia.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he was so sad that I wanted to give him a hug. And then I find out that he had killed his wife and gotten life in prison when he was just twenty-four. I tried to picture this old man killing somebody, and I just couldn’t.

So after the show, there is this group of men and women waiting for us to escort us to some sort of reception area where Angel and a few of the others are supposed to meet with the people in charge. When Angel insisted that I be part of that meeting, there were a few doubtful looks, and even a couple of nasty scowls.

I didn’t take offense. I think it is obvious that I am just a kid running around with a bunch of adults, but I was allowed to be present for the meeting.

So, it seems that the Native Confederation has already made some sort of agreement with not only this group—why was I not surprised to discover that there are other prisons that have become central hubs for civilization?—but a half dozen others. It seems that these facilities actually made an excellent bastion to hold out against the undead. Now, some of them apparently fell to in-fighting, but not as many as one would think.

And here is something that I find interesting. They claim to have an almost ‘zero’ crime rate. Drugs and alcohol? Strictly prohibited! They do say that not all the other prison-based cities have the same rules, but apparently the group that seized power here were a bunch of guys who were die-hard believers in the drug-and-alcohol rehab program.

They live by their own codes. If you have an issue with another, it is settled in an arena. Strictly hand-to-hand fighting, no weapons. Once the fight is over, the issue is considered ‘squashed’. (That is their term for ‘resolved’ from what I could gather.) Stealing is punishable by exile and sex crimes of any nature are handled quickly. If guilty, the person ends up on one of the crosses we passed. I guess the first thing they did once they took this prison was execute every single sex offender. Unlike the prison Sam found himself in, the numbers were not as favorable.

This ‘code’ they live by is a bit odd. For instance, the death sentence can be given for lying, refusing to work, not paying a debt, and accusing somebody of something they did not do. All in all, I find these people to be more than just a bit unstable, but this is their house…their rules.

But that is only one side; some of these men and women travelled to the far ends of the state to try and find their families. The ones that did brought them back here. They also brought people they met along the way.

And now for the connection to the Native Americans.

It seems that a couple of the ‘lifers’ (guys who have life sentences…not an overly clever moniker, but I guess it fits) were Natives. It seems that they were pretty well respected, and when they left to find family out on the Warm Springs Reservation, they became heavily involved in closing off their land. One of them was even there when Erik and Meredith came through.

When the decision came to take Oklahoma, they were a big part of the decision process. One of them turns out to be the pe
rson who suggested that they keep ‘agents’ in every known settlement. They put forth the idea that it would be to their benefit to keep an eye on the white man this time, plus one of them was really into the whole ‘Seventh Generation’ story.

His name was Brian Madison, but his birth name was Brian Greyfeather. He was always considered the ‘crazy’ one. By Old World standards, most people thought he was not only crazy, but a bit of a racist. Now, he is one of the head ambassadors for the Confederated Tribes and has what equates to a mansion here in Freetown.

Once this meeting began, things got interesting. It seems they knew all about General Carson. Not only that, but the general sent a group ahead to request passage through their territory, which they granted! They did not care one bit as to what the general or the NAA was up to, as long as it didn’t bother them.

When Angel spoke, this Brian person actually cut her off. “What reason would we have to care what happens to these white people? They rejected us years ago and have had nothing to do with us since we sent somebody to them to discuss the very arrangement that they eventually agreed to with this NAA. Now they are surprised when the snake turns and bites them? Is this the first time that the white man has made a deal and then changed the agreement to suit their greed?”

I looked around the room at the other people of Freetown who were supposed to be in charge. They just sat there…nodding!