by T. W. Brown
Water is an amazingly powerful source of energy. I was not surprised to find a few bloated bodies in the aftermath. The levels rose so fast. One moment it was a trickle in the streets, and five minutes later, the bottom floor of every building was under water. Several of the smaller buildings were washed away entirely.
I saw a few people in the distance from time to time, but whenever I tried to hail them or get their attention, they scurried off. It was like they were afraid of me.
I know I’m not that scary looking. I take after Meredith in that I am maybe a couple inches over five feet tall. On a good day, I weigh maybe a hundred and ten. That is after a big dinner.
Natalie doesn’t talk much except when I speak to her directly. I know that her mom and dad are named Jerry and Marty. I didn’t have the heart to ask which is which. I also know that her mom is “the prettiest mom in the whole world” and that her dad is “braver and stronger than any daddy”. I also know that she had a big brother who left with the soldiers and a baby sister who never woke up after she was born.
The comment about her brother has me thinking about how long this campaign of the NAA has been going on. I can’t help but wonder if, just maybe, the zombies are of so little concern to us now that we are starting some sort of cycle where folks start grabbing for power.
Monday, September 1st
Jerry is actually Jeri. I found Natalie’s parents. Actually, they found me. We had just finished breaking camp and climbed down to the muck-filled streets. The sun was already promising a scorcher. That was making the place smell just a bit worse.
I asked Natalie if she could see anything that looked familiar. She shook her head and fell in beside me as I searched for any signs of people.
I will say this much…they are really good. I didn’t hear a thing or sense anything was wrong. Then I had a knife at my throat.
After a brief explanation, they took the knife away and we had an interesting talk. There has been a bit of a grab for power here. It seems that the old leader had a deal with the NAA similar to what was going on back at the corridor. When he died, two people both wanted to assume that position.
It got violent and the factions were fighting each other when the NAA came through a short time ago. (I didn’t tell them anything about where they were coming from…didn’t figure it was their business.) It seems that the commander demanded that both factions surrender the required number of recruits. When they tried to refuse, a handful of people were dragged out and executed; then they took double the number of recruits.
The blame game shifted to a new gear after the NAA left. It was during this latest skirmish that the section of the dam gave way. These folks are having a really bad run of luck.
I was glad to accept their invitation for a hot meal and a warm bed for the night. Of course they asked if I would consider staying. I explained that I was on my way to see a friend. I am a terrible liar, and that is actually very close to the truth, so I was able to look them in the eyes when I declined.
I have a lot to bring back to the Corridor when this is over. Already I have run into a surprising number of smaller communities. It does seem as if humanity is trying to claw its way back to the top of the food chain. Who knows…we may even succeed if we stop trying to kill each other off.
Tuesday, September 2nd
It would seem that the NAA is stepping up their response against those who do not bow to their wishes. The small community here was still burning when I arrived. Of course I had an idea what to expect when I set out this morning. Almost immediately after setting out, I saw the black cloud rolling skyward.
I see this as a couple of things. First, the NAA aren’t that far ahead of me. Second, they are obviously leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. I’m not sure they expected folks to say the word “no” in response to their new demands.
The thing is, the way I see the situation, they are going about this all wrong. I’m no expert in conquering the world, but I would think that they might try a more relaxed approach. Killing and burning everything in your path seems silly. What exactly will they be ruling over if they kill everybody they planned on taking control of?
I stayed in the heavy growth as I drew closer. The first thing that I noticed was the twisted ruins of a pretty large bridge. From the looks of it, that bridge has been out of commission for several years.
As for the community here…they are gone. I didn’t find signs of one single survivor. I did find plenty of charred husks. The first bunch I discovered made me cry. I probably stood there and wept like a baby for several minutes. From the looks, the two larger husks tried to cover the three smaller ones. Now they are fused together forever.
This just makes no sense!
The further I moved into this area, I found more and more buildings that were down to the embers. I stopped trying to get a better look at all the lumps scattered about the streets. It seems like they simply rolled in on their train and set everything on fire. If they came in the night, a majority of the people were probably asleep.
I did find a pair of soldiers at one point. That showed me a bit more about these people. The NAA doesn’t care about its members. I know that if this were some sort of sick world where the people of Corridor 26 tried to conquer the area, we wouldn’t leave our dead behind. I read a few history books and always found it difficult to accept that people could do the things to each other that I read: The World Wars, ethnic cleansing, slavery, concentration camps, Crusades and Inquisitions. Yet, here it is…repeating itself again.
What the hell is wrong with us?
Wednesday, September 3rd
I had to make my way up into the hills. It seems that all of this NAA activity has brought walkers from every direction. I heard them just before sunrise this morning. I had found an intact water tower and climbed up for the night. There is never anything good about being woke up by a crybaby. It sets your nerves on edge for the whole day.
Taking my time as I climbed down, I could see dark shapes moving amidst the burned out ruins of this little community. Not just a few…I was pretty sure I was seeing the leading edge of a herd.
By the time I’d made it across the highway and started up into the hills, my suspicion was confirmed. They stretched on back the way I’d come for as far as I could see. Now, that is a bit misleading since that little community was just around a large bend. Still, they have to number in the thousands.
I am stuck here for who knows how long. All I can do is watch the zombie parade. The good news, I snagged a rabbit in a snare a little while ago. I am deep enough into the woods to make a small fire inside of a partially hollowed out tree. Every so often, I move out to this bluff and get a visual update.
Saturday, September 6th
Gliders passed by overhead this afternoon. I have no idea how long they were circling the area. I might not have ever known about them if I hadn’t gone out to the bluff and decided to set out my canteens for the rain. I was really just watching the trailing end of that herd stumble past when the shadow passed overhead.
I had my binoculars on a small cluster that had caught something. They were in “feast” mode, ripping whatever it was apart and shoving bits into their mouths. I had a good look at one that was facing my direction. Since I was this far up, and not really in a direct line-of-sight, I was able to check it out. I was really just concerned that it was a person at first. Once I saw fur, I was watching more out of fascination.
At first, I thought a bird was swooping in low. The shadow was kinda large. When I looked up, I really had no idea what I was seeing. It looked like a huge child’s toy circling the area. Then a second one came into view.
I have no idea if they saw me. They were more focused over the area above the burned ruins of that small community. Still, they did pass overhead once or twice. I feel like a bit of an idiot. I just sat there staring at them for the longest time. Of course, I kept my eyes on them from the relative safety of the brush until they left. The interesting thing
is that they headed back the way I’d come…sort of. They flew off in a bit of a West-Southwest heading.
I’ve never seen anything like it. Nor have I heard tales from anybody else. Ever since shortly after the dead started doing their thing, places like factories and refineries shut down. It is hard to fly aircraft without fuel.
I really wish I could get the heck out of here, but the trailing edge of a herd that size can take a couple of days. I hope things will be clear enough by tomorrow. Whether they saw me or not, I just feel the urge to move out of this area.
Monday, September 8th
There is barely enough here to identify my location as what used to be the city of Hood River. From what I can see, no attempt was ever made to settle this location. Judging by the extensive and very old fire damage, I would not guess that there was much to claim or settle here.
The thing is, I’ve never seen so much devastation. Old Portland burned, but there are still plenty of buildings left standing. Not here. From the looks of things—and I’m certainly no expert—it seems like something big caught fire on the southern end of town and roared down the hill. The flames didn’t stop until they hit the river. There is just a wasteland reminiscent of a bone yard. There are bits and pieces jutting up here and there. However, even those are few and far between. I imagine that the years have knocked over the weakest bits.
I can see a few lone walkers scattered about, nothing to be very concerned with. I will move through tomorrow when I have the full day. The weather is turning a bit rainy and the wind is terrible here. I bet that had a lot to do with the extent of the damage.
I am hunkered down in the woods to minimize the effects of the high winds. I haven’t been this cold in my life. I am fortunate in regards to the fact that I am in dense enough woods to build a good fire.
I found a pair of really sturdy pine trees and was able to string my hammock between them. I am about ten or so feet off the ground above my fire. Kinda like roasted Snoe in a sweat sauce. It is really toasty.
As long as I don’t forget where I am when I wake up…I should be fine. I have a line tossed over one of the branches above me so that I can pull myself up and then swing out of bed. It would not do at all to drop into the middle of my fire pit.
Tuesday, September 9th
Note to self:
Don’t leave ALL of my weapons next to my pack! I guess I just got too comfortable. I wasn’t worried about living people stumbling across me and my little camp. However, I was so focused on getting my hammock in the trees, then so proud of figuring out how to keep a fire going below me to keep me warm, that I didn’t even give thought to what I would do once I woke up and found a zombie or five down below me.
I know that I should have thought about keeping something on me, but I must’ve just been too full of myself and my ability to ward of the chill from the harsh winds while shielding my fire enough to prevent it from starting some sort of forest fire.
I seem to recall Meredith making several comments about keeping a weapon at all times. I guess growing up inside the relative safety of Corridor 26 has made me a bit soft. I know that EEF training says something about always being armed, I just never took a lot of the stuff so literal.
When I woke up, I could hear something moaning and hissing. When I looked down, I was more than a little disturbed to see five sets of hands (well, five and a half since one of them was missing the arm just below the elbow) reaching up at me.
Funny thing, it wasn’t the noise that woke me. The damn zombies had stomped out my fire jostling each other and trying to get at me. I woke up because I got chilly.
I surveyed everything and figured how I could swing down and land near my stuff. One more time, it might do well to remind myself not to be so dang careless. I hit the ground with the little pack of walkers falling all over each other to get at me. That is probably what saved me.
I snatched up my long blade and yanked it from its scabbard, coming up under the chin of the first one. I had to kick the next one to keep it at bay as I drew my blade back. I was pretty proud of myself when my next swing came across in a wide arc and took off two heads. The bad thing was that I stumbled over the body of the first walker and ended up crawling on my hands and knees to get away from the remaining pair.
By the time I reached my feet, the smaller of the remaining walkers—the one missing her arm—was on me. If she’d had both hands, she might’ve gotten in a good swipe. As it was, that nasty stump with the exposed bone probably missed taking off my nose by a hair. I chopped down and split the skull all the way to the upper lip. That was also when I lost my sword for a bit. It wrenched out of my hands with a violent yank.
My wrist is still sore from that one, by the way.
The last one was so slow that I was able to shake the pain out a bit and draw my knife. One good thrust through the temple put it down. I can write about it now, but you have no idea how badly I was shaking when it ended.
Wednesday, September 10th
Moved past Hood River today. That place gave me the creeps. I have no explanation, it just made me edgy.
The landscape undergoes a dramatic transformation right here. It is brown and dirty looking. The lush green I’ve known all my life is like another world. I can’t imagine anybody choosing to live out here.
I have had to take a few walkers down. More of the trailing edge of that huge herd. I think I am going to stay in this rundown and ratty looking farmhouse. I picked it from the others just because it looks so terrible.
I’ve seen signs of raiders the past few hours and I think it is best if I get out of sight. This house is not going to attract curious scavengers. The highlight is the huge basement. I will be able to make a fire tonight and not worry about attracting any attention. I was actually prepared to be a bit uncomfortable this evening.
Friday, September 12th
Still in the farmhouse. I don’t dare venture out right now. I was right when I said I thought that I was catching a whiff of raiders in the area.
The other night, I’d just drifted off when I heard a scream. Not THE scream; that is a very distinct sound of its own. No…this was the scream of somebody who was scared. There might have been some pain in there, but this was fear. A few seconds later, the hoots and howls I heard were also manmade. It went on for longer than I care to think about. Sometimes, it sounded very close, and other times it was farther away. It had all the sounds of a chase.
I wanted to help…really I did. Only, I wouldn’t know the first thing to do. When I heard what sounded like the conclusion of the chase…I stuffed my fingers in my ears. It didn’t really help. I still heard the crying and the begging. The thing is, I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl…old or young.
I feel terrible. This is where I simply do not see how Meredith did some of the things that she did. I also felt like I might have let her down a little bit. Sure, she is dead, but there is this little part of me that feels like I should try and be a bit more like her at times like this.
I wonder…did she ever doubt herself? She just seems like she had it all together. Sure, she was a bit full of herself, but I would be willing to bet that if she’d been here tonight in my place, there would be a pretty nasty body count. If I hear that stuff again tonight, I might have to go out there. After two nights in a row, I just can’t sit here any longer and do nothing.
Saturday, September 13th
It is raining so hard that I can’t see five feet in front of me out there. I have all of my clothes hanging over a fire that won’t last me the night. I hope they get mostly dry.
The good thing is that I am still alive. The bad things seem too many to list, but I will give it a shot.
Just before dawn, I was packing all my gear. I felt that I would be able to move out. I so desperately wanted to be away from this place and the feeling of being a failure. I was cinching my sleeping bag to my pack when I heard the very distinct sounds of running feet.
Dropping my gear to the floor, I went for my
machete. (I was really starting to curse losing my crossbow) and snuck upstairs as quietly as I could.
There was a harsh and cutting wind blowing through all of the missing windows and door frames. I couldn’t see very far because there was a nasty cloud cover keeping the moonlight under wraps. That is probably why I didn’t see her until she literally stumbled right in front of me. When I screamed, she screamed.
The howls and hoots were coming from all directions. I tried to help the frightened young woman to her feet, but she screamed louder, kicked at me, and then scurried away. I probably should have taken the hint.
Like an idiot, I took off after her.
I was actually catching up. I have to admit, I am a pretty fast runner. (A fact that would come in very handy later.) Just as I was about to call out, there was a very familiar hissing sound. Anybody who has shot a bow would instantly recognize that noise. I hit the ground and rolled, but the girl kept going. I swear I heard the next arrow pass right over my head. I know for a fact that I heard it hit her. She cried out and tumbled. I considered my options for about two seconds. When I heard several voices yelping and howling, I rolled into the shadows and crab-walked to the first thick bunch of brush I could find.
I was on my belly in the brambles with a sudden fear that there would be a creeper hiding nearby and that it would grab my leg. I held my breath for so long that my chest began to burn and I started seeing spots. When I let it out in a steady exhale, I almost gave myself away. Yes, they were that close.
All I could do was try and stay invisible while I listened to these animals describe what they intended to do once they caught their prey. Some of the things didn’t even sound possible. I thought back to how many terrible people Meredith encountered on her journey. Growing up in Corridor 26, I was never exposed to that sort of thing. In fact, there was a big noise made that maybe she had focused too much on the bad things.