by T. W. Brown
I think people might have too high of an opinion of ourselves as a species. Out here in the wilderness, there is no law, no rules, and the people who thrive and survive in this climate do so by taking advantage of others. I guess if there is nobody to stand up and tell you that what you are doing is wrong, then the freedom exists to follow whatever base instinct lurks under the “civilized” brain.
I believe that this entire event has allowed us to redefine ourselves in whatever way we decide. I grew up my whole life hearing all of the names: Travellers, Raiders, Scavengers, Traders, and Soldiers. When it comes down to it, we are all simply following that voice in our head. I absolutely don’t believe that following that urge should come at the expense of others, and except for the raiders…they don’t. I’ve spent my life hearing people talk bad about Meredith. The folks labeled as Travellers are all lumped into one category…the same one they put Meredith in.
Selfish.
Was she really? She was a young woman who had her world turned upside down. So did lots of people; I get it. She wanted to live outside of the walls that people were so hastily trying to hide behind. Along the way, she helped some and hurt others. But was she really that bad?
I joined the EEF because I spent my whole life wanting to prove that I was not like her. Yet, here I am…out in the wilderness…stupid journal wrapped in oilcloth to keep it protected from water. The people I grew up around have been killed or captured or scattered to the Four Winds. I left Mama Lindsay and Phaedra to go off on some damn fool mission.
What do I think I am going to do when I find the train? How about when I reach Irony? Am I simply going to walk up to this new president and say, “Okay, Dominique, let my people go.”
I’ve been travelling this whole time with absolutely no plan and no idea what I will do if I catch up to the people I am chasing. Then, nights like tonight come and slap me right in the face. I hid while a dozen or so raiders raped a woman and beat her to death. I listened to them talk about some small settlement near here being “ripe for the picking.” And what did I do? Not a damn thing but hide and try to muffle my own crying.
When I was certain that they were gone, I crawled out to the woman to see if she might be alive. She was not. I’d stayed huddled in the shadows only a few feet away from this poor woman. I’d been witness to her last words, but had no recollection of what they were. The only words I could hear clearly were those spewed from her tormentors. They had said things that will haunt me forever.
I sat there for the longest time, sobbing over this dead body of a stranger. As the rain began to come down harder, I eventually climbed to my feet. My mind was made up. I would find these people and actually do something.
I headed off in the direction I was pretty sure they had gone, staying in the shadows. I gave no thought as to whether I could even find my way back to my things. I simply wanted to stop being an observer. It was time that I actually DO something.
If I was fool enough to chase an army that had taken away some of my friends, then by God I better start figuring out how to act on my impulses. Otherwise, I would find the train, or discover Irony, USA and then…
What?
They were camped inside what looked like a huge warehouse. From a distance, I tried to get a real idea of the layout. It was about hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. I could make out three bonfires visible through the wide open entry. I also made out a series of catwalks that connected that building with several others around it. This was a complex, but there were only signs of activity in this one building. Part of me wanted to observe these people for a while and see what they were about. However, the memories of what I’d heard managed to drown out any such thoughts almost as soon as they rose.
I watched for maybe an hour…or five minutes. Time seemed to fall away. I was determined to do something… anything.
Nothing. I did nothing.
How am I supposed to take on a camp of who knows how many raiders? And I can’t even blame it on not having my crossbow. There is simply nothing that I can do. Any attempt I would make to attack these people would end poorly for me. I have no doubt of that.
The defining moment for me was when a pair of men came out. I don’t know now if they were actually looking for me…or just standing outside talking. No matter, I crept back and got around the first corner of a building that I could and I sprinted with all I had, never even looking over my shoulder once until I ended up out in the middle of the woods with a bunch of welts and cuts on my hands and face from all the branches that whipped at me as I passed.
Around midday, I slunk back to the ratty old farmhouse soaked and cold. I am a failure. I ran off on some impulse with no plan. What’s even worse, I am trying to piece together the logic I used to talk myself into doing this in the first place. Now I am in the middle of nowhere and almost out of supplies. There is very little vegetation to forage here and I imagine the presence of these raiders has most of the wild game scared off. Basically, I’m screwed “six ways to Sunday” as Jenifer puts it.
When this rain stops…I will head home. I will apologize to Mama Lindsay and I will do as I’m told. How could I begin to think that I could do anything when I set off in pursuit of an army?
Sunday, September 14th
Still raining. If possible, it is actually raining harder.
Monday, September 15th
I was able to move out today. I’m not sure I have the desire to continue this journal as it now seems to be a very detailed written account of my failures. I have to admit, I pulled it from my bag this morning when I set out…I set it on a dusty shelf in that basement and walked out.
I don’t know what possessed me to go back an hour later to retrieve it. It has its hooks in me and I can’t shake the urge. Even now…I’ve set the pencil down at least a half dozen times, but I pick it back up.
I have my hammock strung between a pair of pines up on a hill that looks down at the river. About an hour ago, another of those gliders circled the area to the east…towards where I was. I’m not saying that they were looking for me, but they may be enemies of those raiders or friends of the people being victimized.
That doesn’t answer any of the questions that I have, however…it’s not my problem. I just want to go home…whether it is to help rebuild the Sunset Fortress, or to relocate at Warehouse City…I just want to be back where I belong. It is obviously not out here.
Tuesday, September 16th
There is something going on here. I am at the burned up ruins of Hood River and found four people staked to the ground and two more hanging from a metal crossbar.
Okay, that is only partially accurate. The ones staked to the ground are now zombies, but obviously turned very recently. The two hanging were just plain dead. I guess I need to keep extra vigilant.
I would have gotten farther, but I also had to deal with about two dozen walkers. Not all at once…but it did start to seem like I was taking another one down every time I turned around. The worst part was at least half were fresh—relatively speaking—but there was something else about them that I just can’t place. They look really weird. And the even stranger part of this is how one of them looked oddly familiar. That is ridiculous of course. And it isn’t like she looked like somebody I know…just somebody I may have met in passing or something. Like I said…weird.
Wednesday, September 17th
I am stopping just prior to this big bend in the river. I might have to move deep into the woods to travel from this point on. There was some bizarre activity and I don’t have any idea what to do.
I saw the gliders first. Both swooped in just around the middle of the day. (By the way, it has been sunny but cold the last two days.) Of course, I immediately found a spot to hide out. I thought they might be headed east again, but they kept circling well to the west of me. I can’t begin to guess how long they circled, but with the strong winds through here, they could’ve gone all day long.
Once the coast was clear, I resumed my journey. T
here were some subtle differences in the landscape; especially on the other side of the river.
So, the reason that I finally called it quits for the day and am considering moving up into the woods is that there was a gang of people out ON the river riding windsurfers. It took me a bit to realize what I was seeing, but one of the Travellers that passed through the Corridor had one on his wagon. I remember him trying to explain it to a bunch of us kids with very little success. However, I also remember quite well that Mama Lindsay knew exactly what they were.
In any case, there were a bunch of them out there—at least twenty. I never saw them come very near to shore on this side of the river, but they were zipping around a lot and coming close enough that somebody was exhibiting enough concern to start lobbing big rocks from a huge catapult.
Eventually, the windsurfers headed back across the river and disappeared into a small cove. It looks like there is some sort of small settlement on that side, because as it gets darker, a soft glow is coming from that general direction. I wonder if it is a new settlement. And if it is…where did they come from? Are they on the run from the NAA?
In the morning, I will start the very arduous hike up the hill. The advantage is that I really doubt that I will see any walkers. However, I think I will increase the likelihood of running into the living. Given what I’ve seen lately…I’d rather take my chances with walkers.
Thursday, September 18th
It took all day, but I am walking what I think is the ridgeline. No sign of anything…living or undead. Game is back to being plentiful. Just in time since I haven’t had more than a handful of pine nuts in over forty-eight hours. I set a snare and climbed up into my tree for a nap. When I woke…it was time to start a fire and make dinner.
I had a nightmare that I returned to Corridor 26 and they wouldn’t let me in. Mama Lindsay even came to the wall with Phaedra and said that I was no longer her daughter…that I was Meredith’s and that she never wanted to see me again. Needless to say, I am not very happy right now.
Friday, September 19th
Oh my God.
That was the first thing that came to my mind when I made it to this point overlooking the gorge below. The dam is almost completely gone now. I guess I only witnessed the beginning of the event.
Most of the town where I found Natalie is simply gone. Also, across the river on the Washington side, there is more of the same. A town on that side looks to have taken a beating. I am terrified of what I might find further down the river.
I wonder if this is what all the activity from the gliders and the windsurfers was all about. Bad weather has moved in, and I don’t know if that is what is keeping them away today, but the wind is terrible, the rain is coming down almost horizontally, and the flashes of lightning combined with the rumble and crash of thunder has me seeking cover under this big rocky overhang. It’s not quite a cave…but pretty close.
I feel something building…like there is a horrible storm coming and it is focused on me. I really can’t explain it any better than that.
Sunday, September 21st
I’ve met up with a trio of people. Travellers. They were actually camped in another niche in the rocks about three or four hundred feet from me during the incredible storm that raged through here yesterday.
The way we met was almost humorous. I was at this waterfall filling my canteens when I heard something coming through the bushes on the other side of the little stream. Of course I was at my most vulnerable, straddling the stream with my hands full. I tried to step to one side and slipped. When the three people came through the trees with weapons out ready for action, all I could do was stare up at them with a stupid look on my face.
The two men relaxed and one even made the effort to come help me. Of course I didn’t know him and thought the worst. I had my knife out and up to his throat as he bent down. So that was how I met Bob Hall. The other guy started to come at me in defense of his friend (and twin brother), but the girl grabbed his arm. She started giving him the what for about “coming at a young girl all by herself in the woods, and what did they expect me to do?” Then she stepped forward and introduced herself. That is how I met Felicia Hall, Bob’s wife. She was kind enough to also introduce me to Kenny—the twin.
They are from Florida! I’ve never met anybody from so far away. All three of them keep their hair cut down to just stubble. Even so, Felicia is very pretty. She has skin that is a light brown which makes her hazel eyes seem to glitter all the more. The scar that runs across her throat looks a bit sinister.
As for Bob and Kenny, they are very dark. Both have eyes that are so dark brown, they almost look black. Bob has a healed bite on his arm. It is mostly just angry scar tissue now, but even the scar looks painful.
All three are probably some of the tallest people I’ve ever met. They are decked out in leathers with nasty spikes sticking out all over…kinda like a porcupine. I guess they use their entire bodies as weapons if it comes down to it. I almost want to see them in action to get an idea how all the stuff they are carrying works.
They have these wheeled sleds that have harnesses (all equipped with quick releases) with all their goods. I asked them where they were headed and that is when Felicia pulled out tattered copies of Sam and Meredith’s journals. She said that they were actually headed to Corridor 26 because some of the other Travellers have been circulating a rumor that there is a third book. I didn’t say anything.
I asked them if they’d seen any type of army in their travels. That was when things got interesting. It seems that they had figured out where Irony was located and made that the first location they would check in to see if perhaps anybody there knew anything about Meredith. They said that the place had been hit hard by something, and that there was definitely some sort of organized occupational force in control. They didn’t bother to venture in and were smart enough to not be seen.
As far as that area where I saw those raiders, they said that the area is well known to all Travellers, and it is simply a place that you skirt unless you have a death wish. They were strangely impressed by my having actually been inside a “No Man’s Land” and survived. I think perhaps I got luckier than I realized. I told them about what I saw. According to Felicia, there are a half a dozen tribes in the area, and they are always at war. Women are traded like a commodity, and they even do exchanges to dilute the gene pool.
I asked them about the dam, but they had no ideas. Kenny said that others have failed all over the country. However, he said that is a relatively small catastrophe compared to the areas around the various nuclear power plants around the country. I guess there are parts of the country that nobody dares venture into. Some of the stories coming from survivors who do manage to escape are pretty horrifying. Zombies that don’t die or are so radiated that proximity exposure to them causes violent illness.
Of course, as we sat around the fire and I listened to these stories, I wondered how many of them were retellings of rumors that have grown farther away from the truth with each exchange. Some of it was so far-fetched that I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Still, there is a saying that every rumor has a grain of truth to it.
I have to admit, while I sit by the fire and hear the sounds of Kenny snoring…it is nice to no longer be alone. I realized as we sat and ate and laughed and shared stories (they had most of the stories), it was comforting.
Monday, September 22nd
We had to come down out of the hills today. The woods simply became too dense to travel through. We were spending all of our time hacking through the dense vegetation.
It didn’t take long for trouble to show up. We were moving parallel to the highway when we saw them. It was a group of five heading east. Apparently Travellers has a secret sign. If the hand-signal isn’t returned, then strangers are greeted with more reservation. I had no idea that Travellers had a society…they have rules and all kinds of customs. Not at all like the selfish “grave robber” persona I have grown u
p hearing them painted with.
So when the secret signal was not returned (which they have not shown me since they know I’m not a Traveller), Kenny told me to keep a hand on my weapon. Felicia did one better, she drew the long sword from over her shoulder and Bob had a pair of pistol-sized crossbows.
The five spread out so that there was several feet between each one, and one of them dressed all in pieces of metal that were fastened to each other by what looked like strips of leather wrapped in wire came forward. Kenny asked us to stay put and went to meet the guy. They talked for a few minutes and it didn’t look very friendly. When Kenny came back, he said that these guys were demanding a toll. When asked what the toll was, apparently it was me.
I have to admit that I felt a surge of fear. After all, I’d only known these people for a day. They didn’t owe me anything. Plus, all the stories that you grow up hearing about Travellers say that they believe everything has a price and they would sell their own mother if the offer was right.
Kenny looked right at me when he said, “I told ‘em they better have an army hidin’ in them trees, ‘cause ain’t none of those rednecked bastards gonna lay one grimy finger on you, little girl.”
I know my fear was probably on my face. However, not one of them mentioned it. I guess they didn’t have an army, because they let us pass. A few of them said some pretty nasty stuff, and one guy stuck his tongue out at me and wiggled it around. Did he think that would make me suddenly want to jump into his arms or something?