by T. W. Brown
Wednesday, October 1st
It happened late last night. I heard the sound. Kenny was one of them…a crybaby. Bob was the one to put him down. We have been camped in this overgrown golf course. It had an intact fence which allowed us to relax a little the last couple of days.
We buried Kenny on a small hill. I guess it was the green for this particular hole. (Bob said so, that is good enough for me because I don’t know squat about golf courses other than they make excellent locations for farm plots.)
Obviously I decided to stay with these folks no matter what at this point. Despite some of my earlier reservations about how it seemed that they were sort of trying to draw information out of me, they are simply very nice folks and I have become a little attached to them. I still feel a little bit bad about keeping my identity a secret, but that isn’t such a big deal.
I didn’t bother to ask them when we would be heading out. Bob announced that we were leaving in the morning. I just kept my distance most of the day. While I feel bad that Kenny is dead, it is certainly not comparable to what they are feeling right now. I can’t imagine what losing a twin must feel like. If I were only to go off Bob’s example, I would say that it must be the worst thing in the world. I never realized how much he used to smile until that smile vanished.
Thursday, October 2nd
It just seemed strange today. I guess Kenny was the one who always had a funny comment or a joke. He didn’t talk much, but the things he said were always welcome. He never seemed to get annoyed.
I can’t say the same for Bob. It almost seemed like I couldn’t do anything right today. At one point, Felicia yelled at him and told him to back off. We were passing through some heavy brush and I didn’t see that he stopped. I bumped him from behind and he lost his footing and ended up sliding down the hill to the highway below. Had Kenny been here, that is exactly when he would have cracked a joke.
What made it bad was not so much that Bob slid down the hill on his butt. It was more about the big mud puddle that he ended up in at the bottom. I probably shouldn’t have laughed…but the look on his face was just so darn funny.
The nice thing was that we were on an unsettled portion of Corridor 205. I honestly wouldn’t have known, but there were remnants of a sign as well as a huge concrete building where the number was all over the place. Felicia spent the next hour before we made camp talking about how much she missed malls.
As for walkers…or undead of any sort, there were a few, but nothing to get too concerned about. One other bad thing—and I feel bad for even mentioning it—watch shifts are longer with only three of us.
Friday, October 3rd
I sure hope that Bob is okay. I am trapped in a rundown office center with Felicia. We have the entire bottom floor sealed as best we can. I am on the roof right now keeping an eye open for any opportunity that might give us a chance to escape. Also, I am trying to keep from looking Felicia in the eye. She keeps asking me if I think Bob is okay.
After what I saw, and all that happened, I would have to say that I do not think he is okay. However, as much as I don’t believe he is okay, I am a bit more concerned about our chances of survival.
The morning started rainy and cold. It was the kind of morning that really makes a person appreciate home. My breath was visible in little puffs of mist as we got moving. I told Bob and Felicia that the best route I knew of through these parts was to stick with the old highway. I just figured that we might run across the Willamette Refuge. That would mean I am almost home. We reached a long bend and that was when the leading edge of a huge herd showed up.
It would have been okay had they been down in the trench that holds the expanse of highway that cuts through like a concrete river. Unfortunately, they were also plowing through the surrounding neighborhood. The best guess I have is that two smaller (but still very large) herds were actually joining as one, and we just happened to be unlucky enough to be caught in the current.
That was how we ended up being separated. Bob ran up one side of the embankments that contain this highway and Felicia went up the other. The original idea was to search for a good place to run and hide. The problem was that we had no idea that a bunch of walkers were up on the side where Bob went to look. They caught sight of him, or whatever it is that zombies use to detect people, and there was this outburst of moans, groans, hisses and cries.
I think Bob was trying to buy us some time and probably thought he could get back around to us. He told us to run for it, but unfortunately, things weren’t much better up on Felicia’s side. I ran her direction, but she was trying to come back down to me before I got halfway there. I looked past her shoulder and saw the sea of bobbing heads. I guess being down in that gulley shielded most of their sound, because we were all totally caught off guard. I wanted to run in the direction that would take me home, but there was no way I would be able to make it past so many. I did the only thing that I could; I turned and ran the other direction…back the way we came.
I heard Felicia call for me. God help me, I considered for just a split second to keep running. I was scared I would turn and find her trapped…surrounded by walkers. I knew that if I saw her face, if I saw her pleading for help with my own two eyes…it would be something to haunt my nightmares forever. Thankfully, she was trying to point out a collapsed section of retainer wall on our side of the highway.
I veered that way, hoping to God that I wouldn’t reach the top and find more. I only had a few seconds to decide what to do once I hit the crest. Already hundreds of walkers had broken off from the main group up on this plateau and were headed our way.
I decided to wait for Felicia because I knew that there would be no way for us to find each other if I started zigzagging through these buildings. I remember running in a relay race when I was a little girl. I had to wait for the person to come and hand me a baton before I could take off. It felt a lot like that as I waited for her to catch up. Once she was almost to me, I started jogging. The few seconds that I’d stood there had allowed my body to start feeling the weight of my travel pack. I knew I would see raw skin when I peeled out of the straps later. (Boy, was I right!)
We were in some sort of business district with lots of warehouse-looking buildings and office complexes mixed in. I found a gap in the trees and bushes that have overtaken everything and dove in with Felicia right on my heels. I came out from between two four-story buildings to a huge courtyard. None of the glass on the bottom floor on any of the buildings was intact. However, I did notice that one building still had windows on the top two floors that hadn’t been busted out. That was my sole determining factor.
I ran inside. I heard Felicia call my name, but this time I was determined to keep running. I hoped she would follow, and was glad when I heard her feet crunching through the dead vegetation, broken glass, and other garbage that littered the lobby of this place.
I found a door to an emergency stair access. The tan wall was splattered with dark stains that had to be blood. There was one very easy-to-see handprint. I pulled my machete and headed into the dark stairwell.
The second floor door was torn off the hinges. I didn’t stop to take a good look, but the grooves and chunks in the wall were manmade…not zombie. I saw a flash of movement in the shadows and decided that I couldn’t take the risk that one or a dozen walkers might be wandering the halls and follow us up. If that were the case, they would create a ruckus and bring who knows how many. I had to make sure we were in the clear.
I told Felicia to stand watch at the door and went in to clean out the floor. It was a long hallway that would go in a giant “U” shape. The one good thing going for me was the fact that all the doors were open or gone. Even with the lousy weather, I could see…mostly. I say that because as I rounded the corner, I ran into what I was pretty sure had to be the source of the shadow that caught my eye.
The dog was just a bit taller than my knees. I couldn’t tell you what color it used to be—its fur was so matted with filth and vermin th
at I swear it looked like its skin was actually moving. I do know that it was very dark…not black, just…dark. That is why I didn’t see it until I almost tripped over where it was laying on the floor in a pile of garbage. Bringing my machete down on its head was probably the most merciful thing I could do for that pathetic creature.
Fortunately, the rest of the floor was clear. I jogged back, and Felicia and I headed up to the third floor. The emergency door was shut and so we didn’t bother. Also, since none of the windows on the upper two floors were broken, I felt pretty confident that the floor wouldn’t hold any surprises.
Once we reached it, I got a good look around and saw that the leading edge was a few blocks over. I remembered seeing a bunch of large debris and busted furniture on the bottom floor. I told Felicia my plan and she went to the roof to keep watch while I barricaded the downstairs. She gave me a warning when they were about a block away. It wasn’t anything that will stand up to a long assault or a massive throng of walkers smashed up against it, but if it comes to that…I will do myself in before they ever get close enough.
Saturday, October 4th
Heard noises today in the direction we last saw Bob. It sounded like breaking glass. Lots and lots of breaking glass. On the bright side, many of the walkers surrounding our building seem to be wandering off.
Sunday, October 5th
We got our chance today and took it. When the sky grew light enough to see—which took some time considering the fact that it is a very gloomy day with low-hanging clouds that constantly supply a drizzle of near-freezing rain—the area surrounding the building was almost empty of walkers.
We made for the gulley of the 205 Corridor and were pleasantly surprised to find it almost empty. I say ‘almost’ because there were a few creepers. I imagine they get pretty damaged travelling in those packs and bits start to fall off. Plus, if one of them happens to fall, it isn’t like he or she will be getting a hand up from friends. I bet being stepped on by a few thousand of your closest friends would wreak havoc on a body, especially one that already has a few chunks missing.
I had to keep stopping to go back for Felicia. She kept turning around and then she would just stand there…staring. I know she kept hoping for a miracle. If this were one of those stories in a book, he would come running around the corner and they would catch each other and hug and kiss and laugh.
The only thing coming for us from back the way we came were the assorted walkers that must’ve caught sight of us when we were running through that business complex. Since I’ve never been to this part of the 205 Corridor, I had no idea what to expect. This was farther than any of our caravans have ever gone as far as I know. In fact, once I started thinking about it…I don’t know of anybody from Corridor 26 who has ventured onto the old Interstate 84 since Meredith.
Tonight we are staying in a partially burned down hotel. Felicia says this place was probably pretty expensive long ago. To me it just looks like clutter and lots of wasted space.
There was one interesting little moment as we settled in for the night. Of course we pulled the mattress off the bed to flip it over. It isn’t much, but trust me when I say that you don’t want to lay on one without doing that in a place like this. The funny part came when I found an old piece of money. I held it up and Felicia said that it was common for folks to leave a gratuity under the mattress when they left so that the housekeeping worker did a good job. Seemed kinda strange to me, but we both started wondering aloud about what happened to not only the person who left the money, but the housekeeper who didn’t ever come in and collect it.
Tuesday, October 7th
We reached Willamette Refuge this afternoon. Actually…we reached what was left of it. This place looks worse than Corridor 26. They were just getting started and were in no condition to defend against a concentrated and organized attack by something like the NAA. This is worse than I thought. If this place was hit, and I already know about Corridor 26…then just how extensive was this attack?
In the morning I will set out for home. If there are no signs of life there like here, then I will continue on to Warehouse City. Something has to be done about this now, before it is too late.
Walking around this place, I can barely recognize it as the vibrant and growing community that I entered when I made my first run. The most disturbing is the obvious signs of struggle, but strange lack of bodies. There are blood stains all over the place to go with the burned down shacks and busted down walls.
This just seems so pointless. Why would anybody do this? If this new president wants to gather the remnants of the nation—or at least what remains here in the western part of the country—why would there be so much destruction? If you kill everybody, who is left for you to be president of?
There was one other thing that struck me as odd. Nothing was taken. All the supply houses look untouched except for a little scorching here and there. None of the doors are busted open or anything. Why wouldn’t they take anything?
Wednesday, October 8th
It keeps getting worse. All along the Interstate 5 connection to the 217 Corridor there were several fires burning out of control. Felicia made an interesting comment as we stopped for a bite to eat around midday. She said, “Seems like somebody is trying to flush somebody out.”
I thought about it. If Dominique wants Meredith this badly, what would she do if she discovers that Meredith is dead? Even more interesting; what would she do if she found out that her daughter is still alive? If all of this is really about my birth mother, then perhaps it will be up to me to make this stop. I may not be able to fight an army or be some sort of superhero that swoops in and saves the day; however, I can make my presence known.
I decided to start with Felicia. Since she has traveled with me for a while and never been anything but wonderful to me, it was time to let my secret out. Wow, did I feel like an idiot! It went something like this. (I am only able to paraphrase here because the conversation went on for quite a while once I admitted who I am and what my plans are.)
“My name is Snoe Elana Gainey. My mother was Meredith Gainey and my father was Samuel Todd. I have lived my whole life along Corridor 26. When the NAA showed up, I escaped with my Mama Lindsay and a friend. When I discovered that several of my friends were taken by the NAA, I went after them and found that I am nothing like my mother. I am not a one-woman army.”
Felicia said something like, “I know who you are, Snoe. We’ve known who you were within a day of meeting you.”
I felt so stupid. It got worse. “How many young girls are named Snoe? Throw in how you are always scribbling in that journal of yours every night…just like your mom and I dad I’d be willing to bet. Pretty sure they didn’t have any idea how many folks would read them over the coming years. And hell, everybody who read those books since folks started making copies has named their baby Meredith if it was a girl, unless they really hated her that much. And every boy for almost three years is named Sam. We knew why you didn’t tell us…can’t say anybody would blame you. And if what you say about Dominique is even half true, well, you probably got a price on your head by now.”
I guess I got a look on my face that gave away how worried I might be that she would be the one looking to collect any such reward. Felicia has a very pretty laugh…even when it is at you and not with you.
“Girl, if I wanted a bounty for your skinny ass, I woulda sold you to one of the raider groups we passed.”
I was really taken aback by the fact that the three of them had me figured out so quickly. I guess I am just not nearly as clever as I think I am. I do have to admit that this adventure has been a real eye opener. It also made me feel terrible that I kept my identity a secret from them…especially since two of them are gone now.
What sealed the deal with me as far as Felicia is concerned is the fact that she didn’t try to belittle me or talk bad. She understood my choices and even said that Bob and Kenny had felt the same way. When she mentioned Bob’s name, I almost cried.
>
That was when she broke the news to me:
“My man sprung us. That glass breaking trick works every time with stiffs. They ain’t all that bright. He’s been hanging back on our tail for the last day.”
I was stunned. For a moment, I was a bit of a hypocrite. I felt my blood boil just a bit at that revelation. To find out that Bob was alive and she knew was one thing. To know that she was aware that he was following us was another. I won’t even get into the whole thing about how obviously clueless I was throughout the entire ordeal.
About an hour later, Bob showed up. That was great. Unfortunately we had to break camp and haul ass because he was being chased by a group of what he called “very organized sumbitches.”
We managed to find an old train car. Felicia and I are here now. Bob is, of course, gone again. His plan is to lead them down by the river and hopefully lose them. Felicia and I are to stay put until dark.
Thursday, October 9th
I had no choice but to split from Felicia. She and I had a talk last night and we decided that we MUST help Bob. We kept seeing flashes in the dark. The guys chasing him have Molotov’s or something along those lines. Neither of us could stand sitting still while he was out there risking his life for us.
I am on a plateau that looks down into the valley. I know that Mount Hood is hidden someplace behind the heavy cloud cover. This morning started off with a fog so dense that we actually had to stay put for what seemed like forever after what passed for sunrise.
We decided that we would meet at the bridge on Corridor 217 that passes back over Interstate 5. It was the best landmark we could come up with.
The low clouds have trapped the smoke close to the ground, so I have had a scarf over the lower half of my face all day. I don’t know if it helped all that much. I have been hacking and coughing most of the evening.