Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (122 page)

Eventually, we made it out an open gate and back out to the marsh plain that surrounds this settlement. Of course there were skirmishes everywhere. I wanted to help more, but you sort of found them by accident in the fog. Seriously, you would be mo
ving along and then fall over two, three or a dozen people fighting it out.

I have no idea how many people got separated from us as we moved towards the direction of where we figured our camp to be. And no…I was not leading. A few of the Natives acted as tentacles, feeling the way out for us. That led to at least one small chuckle for the day.

When we reached the crest of one of the foothills, we actually came up out of the fog. We could turn and look back at what looked like a sea of clouds as the fog was sort of smashed up against the base of the Oregon Coast mountain range. I turned and realized that we had come out very close to what we had determined to be our rally point and base camp. So I asked the young man who had led us here if this was some sort of special skill inherent to the Native Americans, and he looked at me for a moment with a very stern face, and then, in an equally stern voice he said, “No, this is a special skill inherent in a person with a compass.”

I only felt a little stupid, but he smiled and so I felt a teensy bit better. Of course that story has now managed to make it through the ranks, so you can only imagine the amount of smirks and ribbing that I am at the receiving end of from the Native men and women here in camp.

It was late in the day, as the fog was finally becoming less dense, when a group of men and women came in to view. They were headed right towards us at a dead run, so we were fairly confident that they were some of our own. It was when the hundreds of dark shapes came into view hot on their tail that we knew we had trouble. There were a few angry comments about these careless people bringing who knew how many of General Carson’s army right to our camp.

However, we had enough time to set up a decent ambush. I did not actually recognize anybody in that group coming straight to our camp, but I did recognize some of the clothing with the colors and symbols of the various tribes that Ethan brought with him.

I was positioned close to the middle of our ambush, so I was able to get a good look at some of the people in pursuit of the folks from the tribes. They just looked like normal people. They didn’t have horns or evil grins plastered on their faces. They were just…people.

We let them past some determined ‘point of no return’ b
efore we sprung our trap. Once again, I was hand-to-hand with men and women. Living people. I looked each one in the eyes as I took his or her life.

Of course, once the ambush occurred, the folks that had just moments before been running for their lives turned and joined in the killing. While we certainly took casualties, it was a very lo
psided affair.

I killed three men and two women.

Eventually, we made our way through the carnage and spiked the head of all the downed bodies. No idea if any were immune and having the potential to turn. I did that task on what amounted to autopilot.

As night began to fall, singles and small groups filtered in. I watched and waited each time. And each time I was disappoin
ted that none of the faces were familiar. Eventually, it was too difficult to stay awake. I fell asleep sitting beside a large fire.

When I woke, it was to a camp buzzing with activity. My body ached just about everywhere, and a certain feminine fun
ction chose today to begin. It was just the start of a miserable morning.

The fog yesterday was patchier, but it was still bad enough to hamper visibility to a high degree. There was a gathering and it was quickly decided that we would stay together as a single force. We had no idea what we might be facing from the general; that turned out to be practically nothing as we made our way to the marsh plains and began to circle the compound.

The first thing that we noticed was that all of the entry gates were still open. Nobody had bothered to shut a single one. Also, there were a few fires still burning, but the rains had knocked most of them down. However, there was a lot of smoke mixed in, and that might have actually been most of what was contributing to the fogginess.

We entered through the northern gate and began to search every single building. It was late in the day when the first surv
ivor was eventually discovered. Of course, nobody had mentioned a thing about changing our policy of zero survivors. When our group made a discovery of a half dozen men hiding in the ruins of one of the burnt out buildings, they were promptly executed. I showed up just as the last one was being beheaded.

So, a word on that; I realize that we could have done things differently, and I am sure that future generations may condemn our actions, but I stand by them. One of the Natives asked me later if we should change our policy and I really did think it over for a moment before saying no.

We made our way through the town. The smell of burning was almost enough to overwhelm the stench of the dead. We checked around the area of the lab and could see the remains of hundreds of bodies in the ruins. We also found a considerable amount of horse activity and signs that somebody had been sifting through the ruins.

By nightfall, we were cold, wet, and miserable, but fairly confident that there was nothing left alive in that compound. With that, we sent out scouts in all directions. We still needed to account for what we all agreed was a considerable remnant of General Carson’s army.

“So, what does this General Carson look like?” one of the Natives asked. “How do we know he is not dead out in that field somewhere, or maybe among the bodies in the compound…perhaps even burned up in one of the many fires?”

As for what he looked like, I had never asked Betty, so I r
eally did not know. But when it came to him being alive or dead, I just knew. I wish I could make it more concrete than that, but I was certain that General Carson would be obvious when we saw him, and he would not have been hiding in one of those buildings. That actually seemed to be a satisfactory answer for the man.

So, tonight, we wait out this storm and hope that our scouts return with some good news. As well as things went (by compa
rison to how things started) the past two days, we can’t stop until we have destroyed utterly General Carson and his army.

Monday, September 26
th

We have been riding hard the past few days. One of our scouts came back with word of a large encampment to the south. It seemed that General Carson was following the coastline and headed towards the California border, but yesterday, he did a hard left turn and is now moving directly to the east.

Our original theory was that perhaps he was headed for those ships they supposedly have waiting. But when he changed directions, that went out the window and we have no idea what he is planning. We do know that he has chosen to move fast. We found a whole bunch of his big machines and flame-throwing wagons. Of course he had made sure to destroy them, so even if we had been inclined to try and add them to our arsenal, they would have been useless.

However, he has been making it a point to swerve every so often and destroy a village or settlement here or there. Honestly, I never knew there were so many. I guess we just never put out feelers far enough. If we do manage to survive this, I will be making it a point to try and start bringing these far flung pockets of humanity together in some way. Even if only for trading purposes, there has to be an advantage to having a larger network.

Yesterday, we came to this bit of an oasis. We have been travelling into a more arid and desert-like region the past day or so, and this grove could be seen for quite a ways, but what drew our attention were the large number of birds circling in the sky. That is always a giveaway that there is either a concentrated amount of zombies…either that, or corpses.

It turned out to be the latter.

Strung from the trees were perhaps a hundred men, women, and children. Also, there was a large sign:

Snoe Gainey,

Perhaps these strangers mean little or nothing to you, but the next time it will be some much more familiar faces staring down at you from the noose.

You have made your point. I am not foolish enough to fight in a battle that I cannot be absolutely certain that I will win. You have proven a worthy adversary. In two days, you will come to a bowl-shaped valley surrounded on three sides by the fingers of the foothills that are at the base of the mountains that you can see in the distance.

I will meet with you and whatever council that you have to discuss terms. Perhaps we can put this behind us and move forward. Perhaps we can have peace.

General James Carson

Yeah…I’m not buying it. After a very brief conference, we decided to split our group. One half of our army is now being led by a Native woman named Kelly Redhawk.

Kelly was the choice of the Natives, which shows how much I know since I don’t even recall having ever seen the woman before. She seems more like a friend of my Mama Janie in that I would expect her to be more inclined to share recipes than wield one of those wicked looking blades that she has on each hip.

Even more out of character for a person who would be leading an army was the constant smile she wore. It was as if she were out for a stroll in the woods instead of being tasked to ride hard and fast to get wide of our location and be able to swoop in from the north and hopefully catch General Carson unprepared.

Whatever the case, we are now riding east with the idea that perhaps the last battle is just ahead. Since I am not sure if I will ever be able to write in this journal again, I can only say that I hope somebody is reading this and that we did in fact defeat the general.

As the clouds start to give way and the moon lights up the world in a silvery hue, I am here with my thoughts and my memories. I am thankful for the life that I have had up to this point and hope that others will have the opportunity to live free.

I think back on some of the stuff that my dad wrote and I wonder how he would feel if he were here beside me right now. I wonder if he would take up this fight, or if he would simply look for someplace else that was quiet and peaceful. Not that he was a coward, but he certainly had no love of fighting and kil
ling.

He made more than one comment about wondering if we, humanity, were even worth saving. I think we are, and I believe that if he had seen what became of Corridor 26, Warehouse City, and the Sunset Fortress settlement, he would have been happy.

On the other hand, I think of Meredith. She has to be where I get my ability to engage in this bloody war. I think she would be right here beside me, ready for the morning and looking forward to wiping General Carson off the face of the earth. For all her faults—selfishness, self-absorption, and any other you care to attribute to her—she was still a strong woman. I often think that is why so many people disliked her based solely on what she wrote and never having met her in person. They saw traits that were (or are) just not okay when demonstrated by a woman. Sure, things have changed a great deal since the fall of the Old World, but there are still those who consider woman as weak, frail, and dependent. Meredith was none of those things.

Tonight, I will sleep under the moon and stars…and hope that it is not my last night among the living. However, if it is my fate to fall tomorrow, I hope I do so in a way that will make my parents, Sam, Mama Janie, Mama Lindsay, and Meredith, all proud of me. I hope that those who threw their lot in with mine and joined in this battle will feel that their choice was not made in vain.

Chapter 5

Saturday, October 1
st

So much loss…so much blood. The sky is thick with birds who now feast on the fallen. I am numb. Alive…but numb…oh so very numb.

Sunday, October 2
nd

Betty and I found Selina today. She was nailed to the wall of a dilapidated building. I don’t know how it did not collapse when whoever did this drove those enormous spikes through her wrists.

Ethan’s head was found on a series of posts along the side of the wide trail that was once a highway, but is now a rolling, sand-covered rut that leads deeper into the desert where the day feels like you are standing in the largest bonfire ever and the nights are so cold that you are certain that your teeth will eve
ntually shatter from chattering so hard and for so long.

Sleep is something that happens by accident now as my horse plods on, nose to tail with the one in front of it. I don’t know the name of this horse, and I refuse to give it one after lo
sing Mato. And no, I do not want to go into detail. It was horrific and still makes my heart hurt to think about.

While our own force has almost quadrupled in size, and that of General Carson is reduced to these bands of stragglers that throw themselves at us periodically, I still just can’t bring myself to relate the events of last week. I know that I must, and sooner rather than later in case something happens to me…just not now.

One interesting note, they told me that I would still feel my hand despite it being gone…they were right. It itches like crazy where I think my palm should be.

Monday, October 3
rd

We have them. There is no escape and every single one of them will die. There can be no other way for this to end. And now that I know what General Carson looks like, I want to be the one to personally remove his head from his shoulders. For Selina, for Ethan, for Angel…for all the fallen.

Saturday, October 8
th

It is finished.

Friday, October 21
st

They say that time heals all wounds. I doubt that very much. There is a pain that I feel to the depths of my soul that I do not believe will ever go away.

I can’t go an hour without crying. All that numbness that I mistakenly cursed? I would give anything for it to return, b
ecause, in its absence, I am now overwhelmed with pain, guilt…and grief that I have no way to escape. It comes when my eyes are open or closed, whether I am asleep or awake.

I wonder not for the first time if it would have been better for me to have died in all the chaos. The memory of who I was would certainly be a much stronger image than this shell I have become.

The Natives have been holding some sort of ceremony for the past three days, dancing and chanting for the souls of the dead. I wish that I could find the beauty in it that I know everybody else sees, but it is little more than a knife that twists and scrapes against my spirit.

Betty has not come around for the past few days, and I can hardly blame her. I am terrible company.

We are camped beside a river. There is a cliff and a waterfall that drops a couple hundred feet. I could walk out and just step off that ledge, vanish in the mist, and end all of this pain.

I am a coward.

Saturday, October 22
nd

Riders came just before sunset. They asked for me. Betty came and told me I need to pull myself together because they demand to see me in the morning.

Actually, Betty said a lot of things. None of them were very nice, but all of them were true. I owe it to all of those who su
rvived. I need to be seen as the person that they think I am whether I feel like it or not.

After I my cheek stopped stinging from Betty’s well-placed open hand slap, I have decided that I have a lot that needs to get out. If I continue to keep it inside, it may very well tear me open and destroy me.

So…here it is:

We got word as to the exact location of the general’s e
ncampment from our scouts and sent the word to the other group that we would attack just after sunrise. The thought being that it would be during that time that the general’s forces would be breaking camp. They would be at their most vulnerable. Once we arrived and were able to get a look, it was clear that our plan had a slight flaw.

General Carson was certainly no fool and had camped at the top of a gently sloped hill with a table-top mesa. That made it impossible for us to approach without being seen well in a
dvance. There was discussion about hitting them just as they came off that hill and so we adjusted our plan. The word was sent, but it must not have made it. We had already moved around and were in a perfect position to hit General Carson from the south just as he and his men came down. Even better, there was some pretty nasty brush in the area that would hamper any attempt to flee.

And then the group to the north struck. We heard rather than saw as they began their assault, charging up that long slope. The sounds of battle could be heard…screams, yelling, and more screams.

We did the only thing that we could: we waited for them to come down off that hill. To rush in to that attack would have been suicide on a massive scale.

I won’t lie, I cried as I listened to our people being slaug
htered. One can only wonder what they felt at the end as they realized that no help would be coming. I wonder how many times I was cursed in those minutes that felt like hours.

I will say this. Their deaths were not without some upside (and I apologize a million times for that statement, but it is true.) General Carson would stay on that hill for one more day. That would change everything.

I am certain that he believed that he’d slain us all and that his worries were officially over. When they rode down off that hill the next day, a single man was at the head of that column. Using binoculars, I got my first look at him, but it would not be my last.

From what we understand, his intentions at that point were to return to the NAA central base at the defunct NORAD site. He would get the science team back to work on creating more Anomalies. All of the prisoners would be kept alive. They were told that they would feed these new Anomalies so that their last act, like it or not, was serving the will of the NAA and the twis
ted Genesis Brotherhood version of God. (Note: I added the ‘twisted’ part.)

As the army came down off the hill, it took all our reserve to wait…then we heard it. There was a cry that came from the north on the other side of the general’s troops. And then…thunder.

Only, it was not actual thunder, but instead, the pounding of a hundred thousand horses as they galloped down from the top of a distant foothill. A line of Native Americans on horseback that seemed to stretch for eternity came pouring down on the general and his army.

Every able-bodied citizen of the Confederated Tribes that could ride a horse was charging into battle. It was such a sight that my entire group stopped and watched in awe as what began to look like an endless wave of horsebacked warriors came at full gallop.

I did not even realize at first that the general and a select group bolted and headed away, leaving the bulk of his army to be slaughtered. In fact, I had finally shaken off the shock and surprise and was racing to join in the battle with my little mini-army when I noticed.

For the briefest of moments, I paused. It was very brief, but it was enough time for General Carson to disappear over a di
stant ridge. I decided that his fate was a forgone conclusion and could be delayed if even for just an hour or two. I dug my heels into Mato’s ribs and drew my saber.

That poor army never even saw us coming. They were fixed solely on the horde screaming and whooping as they charged in from the north. When my group struck, it was actually very anti-climactic. We just began cutting them down from the rear.

That was when I learned the dangers of overconfidence. I was so intent on hacking and slashing everything in front of me that I never saw the man spring up at my side. He drove his hand axe into Mato’s side. Even over the sounds of battle, I heard as well as felt ribs snap.

Mato screamed and reared up before toppling sideways after his rear legs were slashed by the same man and a long sword that seemed to have magically appeared in his hand. I hit the ground hard and had the wind knocked out of me. I could do nothing but gape uselessly and stare up at the man who was about to kill me.

He raised his sword high and was about to bring it down when something long and pointy came exploding through his chest. That was when I was reunited with Betty. She was covered in blood, and her nose might have been busted, but honestly, and she would be the first to agree, it was so hard to tell.

She reached out with her blood slicked hand and pulled me to my feet. I started to hug her but hesitated because of all the gore. So she snatched me forward and gave me a huge bear hug that left me looking almost as bad as her.

We waded into a nasty fight to add our weapons to the cause. Perhaps I should be clearer; there were battles all around us, none of which looked to be favoring General Carson’s flock.

We managed to catch our breath for a second and I told Be
tty that I had seen the general and some of his men take off. I pointed which direction and started that way, but she stopped me.

“He won’t get far,” was all she said.

Just then, I saw two figures charging up behind Betty, each with an axe raised high. I did not even think, I simply stepped past and swung my sword. It was a very clean kill; one that you could be proud of in a perverse way. Two heads flew away from their bodies and rolled into the muck being created in the sand by all the spilt blood.

However, the two bodies continued on another step or two before falling at my feet. Blood spewed from the neck stumps of each, splashing my boots in bright red arterial fluid. The coppery scent was overwhelming…or maybe it was amplified by my feeling of sudden dread and horror.

The bodies could not belong to a person any older than ten or twelve. But it would get worse as a dozen of their “friends” rushed to try and get revenge. These children all had looks of hatred that had no business on the faces of people so young.

Betty turned, and I swear that she paused for just a fraction of a second. That was enough for a little girl whose fierce snarl revealed the gaps where two baby teeth had fallen out and not grown back in with permanent ones yet to stick her dagger into Betty’s left thigh. Betty howled in pain and snapped back into combat mode. The spear she was holding whipped around and caught the girl square in the nose.

I have heard that you could kill a person by shoving their nose up into their brain. I had always dismissed it as a wives’ tale…until that moment.

That single moment seemed to put a pin in the bubble of hesitation for both of us. We swung with ruthless efficiency, and when it was done we were surrounded by the corpses of a dozen or so children between the ages of eight and maybe fifteen. I know that none of them were close to my age…that much I am sure about.

I wanted to get away from the scene of our battle. It was as if I was afraid that others would see and be disgusted by my actions. I was actually embarrassed to be victorious. I think Betty felt something similar because she just grabbed my arm and shoved me forward.

We ran from one fight to the next, but the numbers were simply too great for the army of General Carson to stand up against. I saw flashes of more young faces as the fighting co
ntinued, but I always made sure to veer away from those conflicts. I honestly did not know if I had it in me to do something like that again.

I truly believe that I would have just stood there if another confrontation with anybody so young would have happened. I do not think that I was alone. I may have been imagining it, but it looked like Betty and I were not the only ones giving any fight with children involved a wide berth.

Twice I was on the receiving end of a cut or slash. The first was a slice I took that could have ended me. It caught me just below the right collar bone. Had I not jumped back at the last instant, I do believe that woman would have decapitated me. Betty cut that one down before she could come back with a return swing. The second one is what put me out of the fight.

Betty and I saw a cluster of what had to be tribal members. They were dressed in this hideous burgundy and gold with huge eagles embroidered into the backs of their leather tunics. We veered that way to avoid a handful of children who were being cut down by three men who all looked like they were crying as they swung these huge hammers that required them to be wiel
ded with two hands.

As I got there, one of the enemy soldiers had just tackled this man and was about to plunge a nasty curved blade into his chest. I came in low and kicked the person in the head. When the face turned my way, I paused. It as an Anomaly and those black eyes caught me by surprise. I had thought we were done with them. I should have known a couple would escape.