Zomblog: Snoe's Journey

by Brown, TW

  Exhausted, I fell back, panting. That was entirely too close of a call for my comfort. But it was worth it. After killing the fat zombie, clearing rest of the RV was a breeze. There was an elderly looking female zombie buckled into the passenger seat, whose pawing arms dropped as I dispatched it with ease. It felt like Christmas when I “acquired” my new RV! I lived very well in that thing for a long time. The vehicle became my favorite camp. I thought it was the perfect spot to avoid trouble. I was wrong.

  All of my weapons expertise and carefulness didn’t save my ass from making a cherry mistake: I became predictable. It was about thirteen months after the dead came back to life. Up until this point, I pretty much still kept to myself. I was still a loner just like before, except this time there were much fewer people around, well alive ones anyways. Truthfully, that suited me just fine. The only problems I had had up until then had been with the undead. That was about to change.

  I had a routine (the Army always taught to change up your routine so the enemy couldn’t predict your next move) where I would scavenge during the day, then set up camp before dark off of the highway in the wood line, normally in my RV. Earlier that day, I had seen smoke in the distance. They were probably just campfires from traveling survivors passing through, I had thought. I was so used to things being fine how they were that I wasn’t much worried about it since it still looked a good distance away. I had spent about a day and a half away from camp trying to avoid a small zombie herd that I stumbled across while scavenging. I was so exhausted that I didn’t reset my standard noise trap (they were old cans and bells on fishing wire) around the perimeter to warn me of any comers dead or living. I was too tired to care.

  I went into my vehicle and lay down. Before I knew it, I was dead asleep. I had no idea I was surrounded until they were already on top of me. My side screen door banging closed startled me awake. I barely had time to raise my head up before something smashed into it, knocking me unconscious.

  I finally gained consciousness after God only knows how long. All I knew was that it was dark outside. I was more than a little bit unsteady, and by what I could see and defiantly feel, I was pretty confident I had gotten the shit beat out of me. I lay where I was for a while trying to recover a bit and take assessment of my situation. It seemed pretty grim.

  I was chained to the ground in what I guess was a crude attempt at a tent. I could hear rough voices and laughter in the distance. I was able to look through a slit of the tent’s fabric and see a faint orange glow from what had to be a fire. I saw chained near the fire what looked like a small, naked zombie. Something about that sent chills down my spine.

  Instinct and training finally kicked in and I felt around for what had me chained down. I finally found it and was able to wrap my throbbing bloody hands (maybe I had fought back…who knows) around the stake that was holding me chained to the ground and pull. Nothing gave way. My fingers began dripping fresh blood as the effort of trying to pull out the stake ripped away skin. I pulled for what felt like a lifetime. Finally, it gave way and I tumbled out the back of the tent and into the crisp night air. I waited a few moments to make sure I was not heard. Knowing I needed to get out of there, I crept slowly to the opening of the next ragged tent. I peeked inside.

  Faint light from the fire outside and an old fashioned oil lantern illuminated a small shape on the ground and a larger more menacing one above it. A large man with a scraggly ponytail and a greasy matted beard was fumbling to pull his pants off while mumbling to himself. He was obviously drunk, I could smell the alcohol on his breath from where I knelt. Next to him on the floor I saw a bloody and bruised girl that couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old staked to the ground in the same manner as I had been. What was once probably a very pretty face was now so swollen that she looked almost alien. This man wasn’t the first one to be here by the looks of it. What remained of the girl’s clothes were in shreds and barely covered her frail body.

  The man finally freed himself from his clothing and stood over the girl leering. As he knelt to get on top of her something snapped inside of me and the desire for me to escape was washed away in a torrent. I had never felt such unbridled hate before. I sprang to my feet and lunged at the sick excuse for a human. Knocking him over, I clamped my hand over this monster’s mouth. I still have his teeth marks on my palm from how hard I did it. With my free hand, I stabbed the stake that had held me in my tent into his temple with every ounce of energy I possessed.

  The stake crashed into his skull and shattered out of the other side of his head. Blood and brain matter sprayed across the tent. The man fell on top of the girl with the stake still buried in his head. I pulled him off and threw him to the side. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I thought I might vomit.

  Trying to calm down, I went to check on the child. I could see for the first time how badly the girl was injured. My heart almost broke. Where her hands and feet should have been there were only bloody stumps where they had cut them off. Her entire body was a map of bruises, cuts, and blood. Worst of all, on her left arm there was a small perfectly round bite mark that had to have come from the child zombie chained outside. The wound looked to already be festering. I had seen enough to know that the poor child was about to die. Worse, she would come back as one of the undead. From what I had witnessed, I don’t think that would save her from the perverse hands of these people. There was no telling how long she had been at the mercy of these savages.

  I knelt down beside her. I could hear faint wheezing from her. She looked up at me with her one frightened eye that wasn’t swollen shut. I could already see the black tracers floating in her eye that showed the advance stage of her infection.

  In a hoarse whisper she managed to say what sounded like “Please don’t let them hurt me.” I winced at the knowledge that something so small and frail could have endured so much.

  “Oh, Sweetheart, I promise no one will ever hurt you again.” Even if I died there, I would make sure of that.

  Lifting her up as gently as I could, I laid her against my chest. “It will be okay,” I remembered saying as I took her head and twisted her neck.

  There was a gasp and one finale exhalation of labored breathing and resistance gave way to a loud crack. Her body shuddered once and then moved no more. No one would be able to hurt her again.

  I remember sitting her down gently and closing her good eye. With tears in my eyes, I stood up, steeling my resolve. I was going to kill every one of those people.

  Behind me, I heard the tent material rustle. As I turned around, I saw a mousy little man at the flap of the tent smiling maniacally at me. He raised the pistol that was in his hand—it was my own pistol—and fired three times. As I crumpled to the ground next to the girl I had just tried to save I thought I could hear shouts and gunfire from nearby. I didn’t care. All I cared about was feeling that I had somehow failed that little girl. I remembered thinking vaguely that I was going to die and being disappointed that I didn’t kill more of the raiders.

  I woke up in what looked to have once been a parking garage. The sounds of more voices than I had heard in a long time sent waves of nausea over me. I heard a gentle voice, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I tried to sit myself up and immediately regretted it. A wave of darkness swept over me and I almost vomited all over myself.

  A woman with brown curly hair and a beautiful, kindly face placed her hands on my shoulders. She looked down on me and smiled. “Welcome to the waking world, I’m Melissa.”

  Trying to remember my name was surprisingly hard. It finally came to me. “I’m Josh. Where am I?” I croaked. I almost didn’t even recognize my own voice.

  Her warm tone washed over me, “We have taken to calling this lovely place,” she gestured around over-dramatically, “the Sunset Fortress. One of our scouting and foraging parties happened to come across your captive’s camp. They got into a skirmish with a raider group that had been harassing us for some time. There were no survivors.”
/>   At least someone killed them, I thought.

  Melissa continued, “While they were searching the camp, they found you…shot three times and almost dead. They almost killed you, thinking you to be one of them.”

  I shook my head with such force I blacked out a little. “No!” was all I managed to say.

  Well, that’s really it. It’s not exciting, I know. But it’s the truth, and it’s how I came to be here. It was worth it all to become a part of something bigger, a member of a group, a family. I only hope that more people can be blessed to find such light in dark times.

  3 years later.

  Captain Ross scowled as he headed down the hall and into his room. He was more tired than normal after leading an escort group guarding a large trading caravan heading to Corridor 205. His briefing to the commander took longer than normal. There were some things of note he felt he should share. Among the most unnerving was news that Dominique DuBois, the one and the same from the journals, had pulled a coup and taken over the NAA.

  Needless to say, Lindsay wasn’t pleased to have to take that news to the president. Before heading to confer with the president, Lindsay had ordered him to take a month’s break from patrol to train more new recruits. If the NAA came with ill will, Sunset Fortress would be ready.

  Shit, I am finally starting to feel my age. he thought as he stripped off his gear and hung it on his wall racks. Something about yesterday just didn’t settle right with him. Yes, they had lost some people to those rotted out bastards, three to be exact, but that’s a pretty common and sad part of this life. He had been seeing more and more of the NAA around, especially at the entrance to Corridor 205’s tribe camps. Yesterday, they actually stopped his group and made them submit to a search.

  He lit a few of the candles that he had placed around his sparse living quarters. Exhausted, the captain slid onto his couch and stared into the flickering light of the candle closest to him. Laying back into the comfort of his seat, his mind began to wander, and soon he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the past and of how much he had changed since the dead rose over two decades ago.

  Hell, he thought, the whole world turned upside down. As the hordes of dead rose…society fell. Evil people could finally do what they wished unchecked; good people began to rebuild and try to make sense of this bloody world. His mind snapped back to the present.

  The only good thing during the trip was that he was actually able to get Snoe Gainey’s autograph in a copy of the journal for his friend Amanda. She has been a huge fan of Sam and Meredith’s journals for as long as they had been out. She threatened bodily harm if he wouldn’t ask for it.

  Ross had always shared some unspoken bond with Amanda since he first met her all those years ago while still recovering from the raider group that almost killed him. She helped keep him from going on a suicidal zombie-killing rampage after Melissa had been taken down when a herd had passed through. They had only been married a year, yet he had never loved someone as much as her. So he gave in and promised Amanda that he would get the autograph. And the captain kept his promises.

  Dammit though, he thought. Asking one of my own people for an autograph embarrassed the hell out of me! He prided himself on his professionalism, and yet there he had been standing in the doorway like a groupie at a concert. He would give it to her when she came back from her week out at the farms.

  The next month or so passed uneventfully for Captain Ross. Everyone knew that there was a large group of NAA less than half a day away. EEF scouts have been watching them for over a week now. That evening, he lay in bed sleeping fitfully. It was still a few hours before dawn.

  Shouts from down the hall along with the dulled sounds of explosions brought him out of his reverie. What the hell? Ross thought, jumping up and out of bed.

  Throwing on his uniform, he grabbed his crossbow, ammo, and sword. He strapped BAM to his leg, ran to the door, and threw it open. Chaos greeted him. People were running down the hall, some carrying children. Screams and cries echoed throughout. Some of the children were covered in blood.

  He grabbed the shoulder of one of the people running by. He recognized her as one of the women who helped Amanda handle the gardening fields.

  “Hey, settle down for a second,” he said as she started fighting.

  “Get off of me!” she shrieked, pushing Josh back into the wall.

  Annoyed, Josh grabbed her by the wrists. “Dammit, Sarah, I’m not going to hurt you! It’s me…Josh! Look at me dammit. What is going on?”

  “Captain?” She looked wild-eyed and fearful, like a trapped animal. “I-I’m sorry. Please let me go…they’re everywhere. The NAA attacked! They didn’t even ask for anything, they just keep firebombing us.”

  A large explosion in the distance shook them both hard enough that they fell back into the wall together. Hysterical, she wrenched her arm free and took off yelling back that she needed to find her daughter.

  Heading into to the Ops Center, Ross demanded a quick status. The report was not good. The NAA had breached one of the older sections of wall to the northeast of the perimeter. Undead and NAA alike were beginning to pour in.

  “Dispatch whatever remaining forces we have available to meet me there,” Ross barked to the radioman.

  Sighing, Captain Ross began his run to where the breach lay. Bodies of both human and undead were strewn about. Some were dismembered, while others were burning. It must have taken a hell of an explosion to blow a gap big enough in the concrete barriers. Two walkers were knelt over, feasting on one of his new recruits, a youngster named Johnson. He was still alive, his screams piercing the darkness.

  Drawing his sword, Josh ran forward and slashed into the first zombie’s skull. It exploded like an overripe melon. The gore soaked the captain’s face. Kicking the other zombie in the temple caused it to topple off of Johnson. Flipping his sword around in a two-handed grip, Josh thrust down with all of his might and pierced the monster’s half-eaten face right through its black glassy eye. He yanked back, pulling his sword free.

  Looking around, Josh checked to make sure there were no threats nearby. He knelt next to the fallen recruit to check on him. His intestines lay strewn about the ground; Johnson was nearly dead. One of the first instructions of the EEF is to not allow the infected the chance to turn.

  “I’m sorry,” Josh said. In one fluid motion, he had unsheathed BAM and split his skull.

  The sound of rubble collapsing was the only notice Josh had that he wasn’t alone. Four NAA soldiers were running in through the gap. Seeing an easy target, they took aim at Josh and fired their crossbows. Three of the bolts ripped into him. One pierced his chest right about his left breast. The next went clean through the shoulder, and the other lodged in his chest, piercing his right lung. The impact of the bolts knocked the captain to the ground. Josh brought his own crossbow up shakily, aimed at the first soldier, and fired. The bolt caught the NAA soldier in his open mouth. His head jerked back and he crumpled down.

  Breathing was getting harder. Josh could taste blood. More and more NAA had poured in through the breach. So many soldiers had gotten inside of the walls that they now began shoring up the wall to prevent further walkers from coming in. Most resistance stopped before it even began. Apparently President Jenifer had ordered the gates open and to stand down.

  Josh had slowly backed against a crumbled section of concrete into a half sitting position. All his energy was gone; all he was able to do was stare into the sun and try to stay warm. He had never felt such numbing cold before. Each breath was agony and blood bubbled from his mouth with each exhalation. He knew his time was almost up. He could feel it.

  After those four soldiers attacked him, no one else had paid him any attention. A shadow moved in front of him, blocking his view of the sun which caused the cold to worsen. Josh shifted his head. A surprisingly young man looked down at him with a sneer.

  “I am Captain James Carson, by order of President DuBois, all dissenters and resistance will be pu
nished by death.” Without another word, the NAA officer leveled his crossbow at Josh’s head and squeezed the trigger. The bolt went clean through his head and he knew no more.

  The next day.

  Captain James Carson, commander of the NAA force that had assaulted the colony reclined on the couch in one of the officer’s quarters that hadn’t been torched in the attack. Victory had been swift and decisive. The resistance had been minimal. The people of Sunset Fortress hadn’t expected an attack from them. The captain was quite certain he would receive a promotion for his leadership here.

  He had checked to ensure that guards were in place, and gave the order for those under his command to enjoy the spoils of today’s victory. He had ordered his troops to shore up the breached areas of the walls and get rid of any zombies that had come in.

  Everyone here was so full of themselves! That had to be why the president had ordered this place to be taken care of. Always one to support morale, he allowed some of his officers to pick among the most choice and stubborn women to teach manners to. The beautiful brunette that he had chosen lay naked and sprawled out on the floor, her face a swollen mess, blood dripping down from off of her large breasts.

  Sarah. She had finally said what her name was when he had grabbed her chin to have a look at her and threatened to kill her if she did not answer. She had proven to be a most enjoyable distraction. That was until she had gotten out of control and bitten his neck, taking a chunk of flesh. He had no choice but to put her down like he would a filthy zombie.