by T. W. Brown
So, I was being slowly coerced away from the water. It seemed that every side street I wanted to cut down to take me back where I really wanted to be would terminate in a dead end.
Eventually, I came to some big industrial site. It has fallen in to such a state that it was impossible to discern what purpose the place once served. However, it did have one saving grace: a ten-foot high fence still intact around some of the buildings.
I made it over just as a few of those damn things arrived on the scene. I had to get around on the far side of a building to get out of sight. The problem was that zombies don’t give up once they have you in their sights. The concept of futility is completely lost on them. I made it around the building and found my way up onto the roof after only a little display of acrobatic skill. From there I was able to assess the situation. This place was big enough…covered enough area that it was unlikely I would be surrounded if I stayed the night.
I will leave in the morning. Tonight, I am sitting beside a series of pipes, using them to shield me from any prying eyes in the direction of the highway. Anybody across the river would see me if they were up on the tops of those ridges. However, the water is an excellent barrier.
I should sleep well tonight.
Sunday, August 24th
I found an odd little community. They are living on an island in the middle of the Columbia River. I would not guess there is a single member of the community over the age of thirty. This would mean that, if I am to believe even half of what they say, this colony was established by children.
The story has them coming home on a bus from a church gathering. The bus crashed when a man (they didn’t know what a zombie was at the time) staggered out into the road and was hit. The driver got out to investigate. I bet you can guess what happened to him.
The older kids—apparently there were a few teenagers and a pair of youth group leaders on board—eventually took charge of the situation. They were near the river and after losing several more of their number to walkers, somebody in their group suggested what was happening might be “the End of Times.”
That got shouted down after the next zombie encounter. One of the kids was apparently a fan of a comic book series about zombies. It took them a few days, but eventually, somebody took actual control of the group and they made for the island. Since it had no bridges and was a “wildlife refuge” (I wasn’t entirely certain what that was, but it sounded important) they decided that it would be free of any zombies.
They survived off the land and only sent small groups back across the river for whatever they could find. They now have a community of shacks. They are drafty, but surprisingly sturdy. They make no attempts to communicate with outsiders. Some of them get a haunted look at the mention of such things. Having read Meredith’s journal, I could understand.
It was interesting that the only books I have seen were Bibles. They really do not have any desire to know what is going on in the world. They know only that it got very bad and that some very bad people survived. It is kind of sad.
I was reminded of that group Meredith and Eric Grayfeather met on their way south; a group of children living in a church who had become very militant when it came to outsiders of an adult age. I wonder how they are doing…if they are still holding on. This group has some striking similarities. I was approached because of my obvious young age. I guess they were good enough to follow me unseen for almost an hour as I got up, had a quick breakfast, cleaned up my camp and headed out.
I asked them about seeing trains go past. They said they had seen one a few days ago. They said that they can hear things like that from far enough away that they can stay hidden.
I was convinced of that until I stepped out of the shack where they allowed me to spend the night tonight. They have scouting outposts up on the hills on the Washington side. I knew it when these big covers were brought out that go over the fires. All the lanterns and such that were hanging from trees were put out.
I waited until it was just me and this little girl of about eleven or twelve. I asked her why we were turning out all the lights; she told me that a signal came from the sky warning of evil.
That would be another aspect of this community that I could spend a while just learning about. They are very devoted to their scriptures. These are not just stories to the children of this community. They really believe that there are angels and demons out there fighting for our souls.
It would seem that they have created a culture that combines zombies and a very interesting section at the end of the Bible titled “Revelations.” I’ve never actually read the bible before. I must say, I can certainly see where the believers of this sort of thing could interpret some of that stuff to what we are living in right now. It actually talks about dead rising from the graves. And while that may not be exactly what happened, it is as close to an explanation as anything else.
Monday, August 25th
As much as I would’ve liked to hang out with those very interesting folks and learn about their culture, I have a mission. I declined their offer to stay for a while. I saw a strange mixture of disappointment on some of the faces of the guys there.
It took me a bit to figure it out, but the ratio of males to females did seem a bit lopsided. The more that I thought about it, I guess they would be anxious to have some more contributors in their gene pool. I can’t help but wonder what sort of dynamic exists between the guys who have girls and the ones who don’t. It is one of those human functions that we can’t deny.
Today I moved along the highway and was doing fine until I came around the corner and saw a rock that resembled a certain part of the male anatomy jutting up from the lush greenery in the area. It was just too funny to ignore and I started to giggle. It only got worse when I found a sign that still hung beside the interstate: Rooster Rock State Park.
I see what they did there.
Tuesday, August 26th
I am camped out near one of the prettiest things I have ever seen. The most beautiful waterfall is just through some trees.
Unfortunately, my camping here is due to some rough events that will give me nightmares for weeks. I found one of those groups of raiders that I have heard about all my life. They have always been just stories. I guess I had to know that there was some truth to those tales deep down. Still, it is like stories of the Boogeyman. Or the tooth fairy. (The idea of some winged thing coming in my bedroom while I slept always creeped me out.)
I was moving along the side of the highway, making sure to keep to the brush, but still close enough to pop up and take a look every so often. When I first heard them, I thought it was some new zombie sound. It was a bunch of howls and yelps—not quite human sounding to my ears.
I moved back deeper into the foliage that has managed to claim almost one entire lane of the highway at this particular location. Being on the side closest to the hills, I was able to move up to a spot where I could see the surrounding area better.
There were at least fifty of them—men and women all decked out in furs and leather. Some of them even had helmets with horns attached or crowned with the head of a wolf or bear. Their victims were a small group of five.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was just so completely savage. And these raiders didn’t differ in the treatment of their prey based on gender. In fact, what happened to the men seemed just a touch more brutal. I’ve added a new scream to my catalog. Who knew that we were capable of so many variations when it came to screaming.
When it was over, they left three bodies dead in the middle of the cracked and uneven section of pavement. I stayed put for quite a while after, for fear that I might give away my position. Once I dared to move, I skirted the scene, not wanting to get too close. Unfortunately, when I passed by, I couldn’t help but look. I kept whispering to myself over and over “don’t look, don’t look” as I moved along. Of course, the more you tell yourself not to think of or do something, the more likely you are to do it. Of course I looked. I wish I hadn’t
, but I did.
Also, by the time I reached this spot to camp for the night, I was witness to the “cycle of nature” or what ever you want to call it. All I could tell from here was that it was a pack of dog-type animals, but they came and dragged off the bodies.
About an hour ago, a small cluster of walkers came through, headed west…towards the direction of Portland. They never broke stride as somebody from up in the woods took shots at them with a bow and arrow. Something tells me I need to get out of this area as soon as possible.
Thursday, August 28th
Great place to hide, lousy place to be stuck. I am not exactly trapped, but I won’t be moving for a while. There is a big fight going on in this area between rival factions of some sort. Also, all this activity has drawn in a few walkers. Then there is the water.
Of course, leave it to me to actually unleash a gaggle of them that have been obviously trapped in this building for who knows how long. I have no idea what this building was used for, but it is full of huge basins that obviously contained water at some point. They are bone dry now, but there is a lingering stench more pervasive than that of the undead. It is like fish left out to spoil in the sun.
One nastier find happened to be the half-eaten bodies of rats, raccoons, and even a few possums and skunks. Overall, this place absolutely reeks. However, I am sorta stuck in here because the zombies are still wandering the halls, and I dropped my crossbow. I can’t leave without it, so I need to let things settle down before I venture down to retrieve it.
Here is how it all happened…
I actually heard this incredible noise that was similar to the sound of that waterfall, only, it was coming from the direction of the Columbia River. I decided that I would go take a look. After all, while I do have an objective to this little excursion, I am still taking the opportunity to see a few things. This is a once in a lifetime experience. (No, I do NOT intend to venture out again like this once I return to Corridor 26…or what ever is left of it.) I really wish I had a camera. Some of what I’ve seen defies description.
I made it down to this one spot and actually risked coming out in the open to get a better look. There is a huge dam…or most of one anyways. The far side of it—the Washington side—has crumbled in places and there are massive gaps. I can see things sticking up from the middle parts of the river where I am pretty sure there used to be an island. Also, just by looking, I could tell that a new section must’ve just given way. That was most likely the sound I’d heard.
I was so mesmerized, that I really didn’t see the danger until it was right on top of me. A trio of creepers were pulling themselves towards me along the rocky edge of the highway. One had managed to pull itself most of the way up the slope. I had not really appreciated just how loud the roaring water could be until I felt the hand grab my ankle.
I speared it in the head, and then I moved down just enough to poke the other two. When I climbed back over the rock wall that ran along this stretch of highway, I caught sight of a pair of people running across the road, jumping that same wall, and bounding down the hill. They vanished into the brush, but emerged a few moments later and took off down the slightly flooded street of whatever the name was of this town built around the now crumbling dam.
I was just going to wait a bit and make a run for it back across the highway. I wanted to get back up on the hills before continuing on my way. The going is slow, but I have managed to stay out of sight and that is my highest priority while travelling alone.
I was about to make my move when I heard the distinct sound of a child screaming for help. This was not a crybaby. This was an actual plea for help. I seriously debated my next move. Part of me really wanted to run. I could have gotten away from here with no problem. I simply was not raised that way. I did what I know Mama Lindsay would have done if she’d been out on a run for the EEF.
The little girl is named Natalie and she is five. When I reached her, she started crying, calling me a “dark raider”. She said that she promised not to come on my land ever again, but that the water made her family move.
Since I had no idea what she was talking about, I simply told her it would be okay and that she wasn’t in trouble. I would take her back to her mom and dad. She looked at me funny for a second, but she eventually took my hand. I led her out to the street where the water was just about ankle deep.
Since there was a very sturdy looking building up on a nearby ridge, I took off for it. I probably should have paid more attention to little Natalie. She kept tugging my hand and saying something, but I was hearing the distinct sounds of people fighting in the area and wanted no part of it.
I had to pry the door open. All of that racket, plus the other chaos happening around me, is probably what brought all the zombies to the door of this building. When I opened that door, a few stumbled out. Those were the easy kills.
I must admit to being very impressed with little Natalie. She stepped back to give me room so that I could spear the closest ones. And while she balked at initially entering the building, she did so with only a little urging. Once inside, I had to leave the door open for a bit because the first room had no windows. There was a door across the way that had long since been torn from its hinges, but the light coming through the windows was not enough to offer much help.
I fought my way in and cleared the first two rooms with what I consider relative ease. The weirdest thing about the zombies in here was that most of them were still wearing at least remnants of the heavy coveralls that were obviously the uniform for this facility. I say that because any zombies you find out in the wild, provided that they are not freshly turned, are naked for the most part. The years have torn away or deteriorated anything that they might have been wearing.
It was after I sealed the door and then made for the metal staircase that things went a little bit wrong. I had reached the first landing, and I was constantly checking down on Natalie. She was just so darn quiet through it all that I had to keep assuring myself that she was present.
I was reloading when a walker fell over the edge of the railing. It crashed down onto the landing and made a terrible noise. It was also the first time that I heard Natalie shriek. Of course it also scared the bejeezus out of me. My crossbow fell and skittered over the edge and to the floor below.
I drew a blade and plunged it into the temple of the zombie on our landing. When I looked up, several walkers were already coming from some deeper recess of this building’s interior as well as through the open door we’d broken in through. I guess I hadn’t pulled it shut or the hinge was so busted that it wouldn’t hold. In any case, our little hideout was compromised. I would not be able to go down there at the moment. However, with all the activity outside, I was fairly confident that the noise would draw many of the ones below outside.
When we reached the second floor, I made a snap decision on which way to go. Left had one door, right had five; I chose left. I was surprised to discover that the door was not locked. It took some work to get it open nonetheless from all the years of not being used. On the other side was a long corridor with a pair of doors on either side, and another at the end.
I pulled out a metal wedge from my belt pouch and used my toe to kick it into place at the door’s base to help keep it shut. We ran down the corridor using the very dim light from the overhead skylights as our only source. I tried the knob and wasn’t all that surprised when this door was locked. I jimmied it open and that is when I almost threw up a little.
This room is huge and is open to all three stories. The ceiling must’ve been all glass or something of that sort long ago. It is now open to the sky. I could hear the roar of water outside, it seemed louder for some reason.
However, it was the tanks and basins that were the problem. They were a greenish slurry of algae and I think they used to hold fish. Lots of fish. The bottom of one of the tanks have a layer of what first looks like dirt or maybe sand. It is fish. I know only because some of the bones have not dissolved yet. I can’t
imagine how many fish these tanks once held, or even begin to guess at the purpose. All I really know is that it was enough to make me gag…and little Natalie actually got sick.
I was trying my best to stay calm. Then the water started flowing in down below. I kept hearing things bounce off the metal doors. I wasn’t concerned about the doors giving way…but the rising water level had me a touch nervous.
I found a way up onto the roof and brought Natalie up with me. I was not prepared for what I would see. The section of the dam that gave way had caused the river to rise over the banks.
It is unlike anything I have ever witnessed. Who knew that water could pack so much power? It has cleared the banks and my guess is that it is at least eight feet deep right where I am.
It was after about an hour that I started to wonder…what would this do to that nice group on the island? Or any other island downstream from this point. Could this have an effect as far away as Portland?
I’ve seen countless undead drift past. Also, I have seen movement on some of the other roofs. The fighting continues between whoever these people are. Don’t they realize that there are more important things to be worried about right now?
Sunday, August 31st
Natalie is still with me. For better or worse, I’ve decided to try and find her family, or anybody who knows her. I certainly can’t take her with me. I also can not just abandon her.
It has taken this long for the water levels to recede. The streets are littered with some pretty rank debris. I imagine most of the ground floors of every building on this side of the dam had its contents flushed out onto the street.