by T. W. Brown
“You screwed up, girlie,” Greg snorted. “Old Spujter hates being reminded of what he lost.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying. Apparently I was doomed to a life of not being able to hide my thoughts or feelings because Greg chuckled.
“Spujt is a eunuch.”
I had no idea what that was, and I would not be having any time to think on it because Spujt the Eunuch fired his crossbow. The bolt caught me in the shoulder and whatever was in the tip worked fast. There was a terrible burning sensation, and then everything went wobbly. I tried to scream because I figured that, if I was going to die, I wanted these jerks to go with me. Unfortunately, the only thing that came out was a pathetic squeak…or at least that is what it sounded like in my ears. The very last thing that I remember is Greg stepping over to me. Looking up at him, he suddenly seemed much bigger. Then, almost like in slow motion, his fist was coming at my face. Slow or fast, there was no way that I could move to avoid it. There was a bright flash….
***
“Snoe?” a familiar voice whispered in my ear.
“Mom?” I managed around cracked lips and the taste of salty copper wire.
I felt something press up against my lips. My thirst was stronger than my aversion to pain. I drank greedily and tried my best to ignore the way my mouth felt like it was being ground up under lava rocks.
I opened my eyes and the light came through the slits and went straight to the pain center of my brain. I might have cried out, but I was certain that I shut my eyes and vowed never to open them again.
“Hang something over that opening,” the female voice snapped.
“Snoe, I need you to try and sit up,” the female voice that I was now certain was not my mother said.
My mother.
And then it came back. My mother was dead. She had been hung after my escape. At the thought of the word ‘escape’ I felt a new sensation start to build. My mind was insisting that I needed to escape, but I could not yet recall from who or what.
I felt a hand slip behind my back and ease me to a sitting position. As soon as I was upright, I promptly threw up all over myself—and judging by the way I suddenly had no hand supporting me behind my back, the person beside me as well.
“Oh, my goodness,” a new voice said. I heard sounds of people gagging just a bit.
Say what you want about the fact that we live in a world where the dead walk and you can see what was once a human being wandering around with its insides hanging out, but be around a person who throws up and it still makes the gorge rise.
Some fuzzy bits of memory started to return, slowly at first. And then it came in a rush. I cried out and forced my eyes open against the pain, uncertain of what I would see, or where I might be.
“Easy, baby.” Felicia moved up close beside me with a wet rag and began wiping at my mouth.
Mary was just behind her and currently engaged in wiping off her own self, answering the question of who it had been that was standing beside me when I got sick. Two other women were in the room, but I didn’t recognize either one.
Looking around, I was in a tent of some sort. It was pretty big. In fact, it looked almost as large as the house that Mama Lindsay and I lived in back at Sunset Fortress. There was a fire pit nearby that was making it toasty; which was good considering the fact that I was now being stripped of my sick-fouled clothing.
“They came to get me,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Mary said with a flat tone. “Well, lucky for you that I was not about to let you go traipsing off on your own and had come to speak with you about your foolish notions of taking off after Dominique by yourself. I arrived as Eric Spujt, Greg Carrick, and his wife were bundling you up. They had a wagon just outside of the camp.”
“They were going to give me over to Dominique and join her.” I was remembering out loud.
“Yes, and they were also apparently feeding information to the NAA. Greg and Eric were not talkative, but Ginger was fairly easy to break,” Felicia said with a nastiness that I had never heard from her before.
“We broke up the meeting and relocated to a new location about ten hours ahead of the NAA force that was apparently coming for us. It seems that the idea was to take down the leadership and snuff any threat to resistance before it began. All they managed to do was solidify the resolve of those of us who were already set against them and to bring in all those who had remained on the fence.”
“Wait…I am a little behind,” I managed. My own voice seemed to echo in my head, and each echo brought a thudding blast of pain.
“We are at war,” Mary said matter-of-factly.
***
As runners from all around the area started to pour in, the moods began to change just a bit. There was a tension in every face that had not been there before. People were scared.
I was with Mary, Bob, and Felicia in a tribal village. The people called themselves Grizzlies. Their chief (or whatever the leader calls him or herself) wore a headdress made from an actual grizzly bear! Around his neck, what there is of it, hangs a necklace of claws. Everybody here wears these heavy fur cloaks. I asked Bob and he said that not all tribes go to such extremes, but some really have adopted their mascot into the tribal identity. At first I thought it was kind of silly. However, as I have come to know these people, it has grown on me.
Word came in this morning that we will begin conducting raids on the NAA. I guess three more villages have met with the same terrible fate as the one where the notice was posted. No more notes, though. I guess the time for talking is over.
I am feeling better. Whatever was on that dart had me sick for a few days, and I kept having the strangest dreams. Mary checked me out pretty intensely before giving me the green light to join the team on the first raid.
***
There were twelve of us on the mission. We cut through some dense forest; the entire first day was uphill. By nightfall, we were seeing snow on the ground. The plan was to hit a large group of NAA soldiers that were on the way back from raiding a village.
Funny thing, though. Their intel was faulty and the village was actually abandoned. During Ginger’s interrogation it was discovered that they had a certain place to leave information for Dominique and the NAA.
Nobody was foolish enough to believe that they would not acquire other assets, or that Eric Spujt and Greg might be their only ones. We were really just sending a message that this particular well had gone dry.
As morning broke, we set up in these trees that gave us a perfect view down to the trail that the NAA would be using to return to Warehouse City. All of us were in position with crossbows. Also, a series of traps had been rigged.
The arrival of the soldiers was announced with a loud snap and thud as a trip line was triggered that sent a pine log swinging down into their path. The first few soldiers were practically shattered by the force of the blow and flew back into the others. A whistle sounded signaling for us to open fire.
This is where my life changed.
I sighted in on the first soldier I could and felt my finger tighten on the trigger…but I couldn’t fire. Not at first. However, as I looked through the scope, I saw another of my comrades have no such qualms. A bolt caught the NAA soldier in the chest and sent him sprawling.
I shook off the queasy feeling that was trying to take hold and found another soldier. By now, it was chaos. People were yelling and screaming. It was a rout. The NAA soldiers were on the run. That caused several of them to trigger the traps that were put in place for them further down the trail. The one I found was running away, presenting me with a big target of that person’s back.
Once again I felt my finger tighten almost to the point of firing, but I just could not make myself apply that extra little bit that would send a bolt into the body of a living being. Then, in a flash, I pictured Mama Lindsay. I felt my throat close as my mouth went dry, and my heart seemed to be squeezed by a giant fist.
I pulled the trigger.
***
>
That moment has played a million times in my head since then. It was made more vivid by the fact that the person chose that exact and inopportune moment to look back. I saw his face as clearly as if he were standing directly in front of me. It is a face that I see every single time that I close my eyes. And it is the face that I have seen on every person since that day when I must take the life of another human being.
***
We returned to the Grizzly tribe’s camp the next day. Our messenger went to report of our success.
Within two days, Ethan sent runners to us and all the other tribes in the area that scouts were seeing an increase in activity within the grounds of Warehouse City.
Over the next several days, other tribes were engaged in the same sort of activity as we had; with varying results. There was only one instance where things went poorly for one of the tribal ambush teams.
The one survivor said that it was clear right away that they were expected. That meant there was already a leak somewhere. That knowledge served to ramp up the paranoia.
One of my history classes taught about the witch trials in a place called Salem, Massachusetts. From what I recall, the people in that town could and did make accusations just to get rid of somebody that they did not like.
When the first accusation came in the Grizzly camp, I guess I should have seen it coming. After all, I was the new person…the outsider. At that point, nobody in the tribe with the exception of Felicia, Bob, and Mary knew who I really was. The fact that my name was Snoe was no big deal. Lots of people in the Corridor were named Snoe, Meredith, and Sam.
It was a short process, and eventually it was decided that the accusation was false. It seemed that some girl thought that I was spending too much time with her boyfriend. The fact that we were assigned on the same patrol on three different occasions was apparently enough for her to suspect that he and I were a thing. The problem was that I actually did not even know the guy by name.
On five occasions over the next few months, word was sent from other tribes that actual traitors had been uncovered. The worst was when one of the people who was supposedly a member of Ethan’s staff, and also a longtime friend, was discovered. His excuse was that a family member was being held at Warehouse City. Ethan had him executed.
It was almost a month later when Ethan sent the word out to all tribes. We would be assembling in the ruins of a stadium. The rumor was that we would be preparing for something along the lines of a major attack. That caused a lot of concern. The reality was that, while we had done well in harassing the NAA, we had sabotaged the rail system that they used to transport people east for whatever they were planning and all but eliminated their supply of recruits, we could not hope to face them in a stand up fight.
However, we had expected Dominique to leave long ago, yet she remained at Warehouse City for whatever reason. Ethan had made up his mind that we would not be rid of her unless we burned her out of Warehouse City and forced her to move.
By then, I had taken the lives of eleven men and women. I kept track on the butt of my crossbow. I could still remember each face more or less. I was still (and believe I will always be) haunted by the face of that first kill.
When I heard the plan, I began making my own. I knew that a part of me would never find peace until Dominique was dead. The thing was, I now realized that I would not have been able to kill her in those first months. I did not have the stomach for it. Now that this little campaign was almost a half a year old, I still did not enjoy killing living people, but I knew that I was able.
I had a feeling deep down that, once this newest little plan of Ethan’s was put into play, the time would come. Dominique and I were on a collision course and only one of us would be able to survive the outcome.
I was packing my bag when Mary, Felicia, and Bob came into the tent. In their hands was a small package. Mary handed it to me.
“With everything that is about to happen, we thought it was only fitting that you have this,” Mary said.
“After all,” Bob had a smile on his face as I began to tear away the wrapping, “somebody is going to need to keep account of what happens these next few days or weeks. I have a feeling history is going to be made.”
Inside the package was a pair of worn-looking, leather bound books. The pages were blank.
Monday, March 1st
Today we set out on what will be an event that many believe will decide the fate and history of every person for hundreds of miles. I tried my best to find another way to put this because I did not want to over-dramatize things, but that really is the general feeling.
So, the plan (at least as much as I feel comfortable sharing here…just in case) is that there will be several teams of ten. We will be spread out in an arc around Warehouse City and at a specific time on a specific day, we will be hitting the city en masse.
In the meantime, we have been told to act independently and make as much trouble for Dominique and her people as possible. I wonder if anybody else managed to be as unlucky as we did today.
So, my group consists of me (obviously), Mary, Bob, Felicia, and six others. Of that six, I have only really spoken with one of them. Her name is Selina Madison. She has no idea who I am and didn’t even bat an eye when the team was introducing themselves to each other and I said my name. The other five were a mixture of raised eyebrows and curious looks. I have seen both enough in my life to know that they were wondering if I might be “that” Snoe.
Selina has beautiful skin, but the roughest, most calloused hands that I have ever seen or felt in my life. Her blonde hair is barely longer than a crew-cut and she is missing one of her upper front teeth. Now, after all that you might be wondering if she is scary. Actually, she has a very round and pretty face with such bright blue eyes that they almost look like they aren’t real, and the cutest little nose ever.
Since Selina didn’t react, I teamed up with her for the first leg of the trip today as the advance scout. We were on a crumbling overpass when I saw several black-uniformed people leading a group that were attached to a long length of chain. Each of the prisoners was manacled and cuffed.
I kept my eye on the procession while Selina went back and told the others. I half-expected everybody to decide to just let them pass untouched. After all, there were at least forty soldiers acting as escort. When the word came from Bob that we had to at least try, I was almost as scared as I was excited.
We moved around and put ourselves in a position that would intercept them because we had to assume that they were headed for Warehouse City. When almost an hour passed without any sign of them, Bob told us all to stay put while he went to check out the situation. When he returned, I knew the news was bad.
It seems that Dominique has put her rail system to use. That has me wondering what else might be going on inside Warehouse City. Bob said that there was signs of activity near the train tracks just beyond the ridge that we were set up and waiting to unleash our ambush from.
We don’t have anything that would allow us to do any significant damage to the rails. I felt terrible because we did nothing. While it is obvious that any sort of open and unplanned attack would end badly for us, I still feel like I let those people down.
If the people are still being shipped to Irony, they are still so far away that it is unlikely we will ever be able to help them. If they have been sent even further—that place called NORAD for instance—it is a certainty. That might as well be on the moon.
Tonight, as we make camp, I wonder if we are simply outmatched and wasting our time.
Tuesday, March 2nd
A light rain fell most of the day. We ran into a scouting party that was hiding out in a huge ruined warehouse. They were quite helpful. We have learned (from the one survivor that Mary and Bob questioned) that Dominique is preparing to leave. It seems that she is satisfied with her work here.
We also discovered exactly what she is gearing up for.
One of the most common ideas thrown around was that p
erhaps she was putting herself in position to take Vegas. That is part of it. But she has an even bigger goal in sight. It seems that she wants to take down the Confederated Tribes.
She wants Oklahoma.
I asked Bob how he could be so sure that the person he questioned was not just feeding us bad information to throw us off. He made a face and glanced at Mary. She ended up being the one to answer.
“He was given the choice of a quick death or being castrated and left staked to the ground for the walkers,” Mary said.
I didn’t ask if they would have really done such a thing. Mostly because I didn’t want to know. After all, we are supposed to be the “good” guys. Right?
Wednesday, March 3rd
Selina and I have taken a position just about a half mile away from where Bob and Mary had chosen to make camp. It allows us a perfect view down into Warehouse City.
I really have nobody but myself to blame.
When we reached the spot where Bob said Ethan had indicated that we wait, he asked for volunteers to go over the ridge and keep watch on Warehouse City. Since I was still a little bothered by what Mary and Bob had done to gather information, I volunteered. Selina was right there beside me.
We found a great spot in some lush pines and set up. I took a look to see if I could spot anything worth noting. My mother is still hanging from the gallows. The worst part was that I really had to focus in on her to recognize her. It looks like hanging was only part of the punishment dealt out by what I now consider one of the most evil people to ever exist.
I don’t know how long I sat there and stared at the beaten, disfigured body of Mama Lindsay, but it was apparently a while because eventually Selina had to pull on my arm to get my attention. A handful of walkers were close enough to be a concern. After we dealt with them, Selina asked me what I had seen down in Warehouse City that was so hypnotizing.