Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (97 page)

As we marched, I saw signs and images that told me this particular tribe called itself “Spartans.” I was vaguely familiar from my history classes that there was a particular group of Greeks that used that name. They were not very nice people if my memory served me. Unfortunately, these people had very little in common with those fierce warriors from ancient Greece.

We walked into their little village and the children actually started coming out to greet us. I had to wonder how little the tribes communicated with each other if this was how we were greeted. I had almost expected either armed resistance or folks running away and screaming in terror.

A man came out of one of the huts. He was all dressed in blues and silvers and I really think he believed that we might be arriving with great news or something like that. The soldier lea
ding our column did not even break stride as he brought up his crossbow and shot the man in the face. The bolt went in the man’s eye, but the other one was still wide open in surprise and staring blankly at the sky as I walked past.

People started screaming, children started crying. And we were told to start grabbing people that fit the range we’d been given. Each of us had been paired and a soldier was supposed to watch over us and only become involved if we failed. Of course it was also implied that failure was going to be met with some serious discipline later.

As we started gathering individuals up, I ended up walking into a hut. Inside, I discovered a woman I assumed to be the mother standing in front of three children. All of them—including the mother—would actually fit the criteria we had been given.

The person I had been paired with stepped into the hut and produced four sets of cuffs. He glanced at me and shot me a look as if to question why I did not have my own set out yet. I just stood there. The woman was crying and begging us not to take her children. The children were crying and huddled around the woman, clutching at her.

“Hey, newbie,” my so-called partner prodded, “you just gonna stand there?”

“You’re okay with this?” I turned and asked the boy who could not be any older than me.

He got a stupid and confused look on his face. Then he looked past me to the door we had come through. The soldier had accompanied us to that point and then sent us in with the words “Don’t screw this up” or some such nonsense.

A thought formed and I did not really have time to pick it apart and weigh out the pros and the cons. All I could think of was that night I just laid there and listened to another person be treated so horrible…and then end up dead. And while I still b
elieve in my heart that if I had tried to do anything, the only thing different about the outcome was that there would be two dead bodies instead of one, I still regret my inaction.

The only thing that registered as concrete in my mind was the fact that I would probably not have this good of an oppo
rtunity again. Also, it was obvious that Dominique was done using my mother as leverage. I still did not see what sense there was in killing Mama Lindsay. After all, if she was supposed to be my reason for staying in line, did she not think that I would want to see her every once in a while? And how long did she think that she could put me off?

Then there was also the possibility that this lunatic woman no longer cared. She seemed the sort who would change her mind on a whim and then act without thinking it through. I wo
nder if she ever sat in her room and regretted some of those decisions she has made over time? I doubted it.

And then there were the funny looks that I was already star
ting to get from the soldiers. I had a feeling that the little announcement that had been shared with them told them who I was. Sooner or later, somebody was going to try to make themselves famous. (That is what Mama Lindsay always said about people who tried to hurt me when I was young. That they were just trying to make themselves famous by association.)

I looked at the mother again and winked. I had given her enough of an appraisal to know that she could handle herself. Of course, it is kind of difficult to live outside of The Corridor and not be at least a little bit of a bad ass.

I tried to use my eyes to send a message to the woman. I had no way of knowing if she understood until I acted. From that point on, it was a matter of hoping for the best. I flipped open the pouch that held my cuffs. When I reached in, I sort of wrapped my hands in one set.

Without warning, I spun and socked my up-to-that-point teammate. The blow landed right on the tip of his chin and he went down like a sack of rocks. One of the children shrieked and the mother clamped a hand over the little girl’s mouth.

“Hurry up in there,” the soldier outside shouted. I was surprised at how disinterested he sounded.

“Please tell me there is a back way out of here,” I whi
spered.

The woman looked at me and I could see her running through a list of possibilities. Luckily, she did not take long, and even luckier was the fact that she decided to trust me. She poin
ted to the floor.

I stepped back as she moved towards me. She shoved the unconscious form of the boy I had knocked out to the side and flipped up a small square of carpet. Underneath was a trap door. I nodded for her to lead the way.

We jumped down into a very narrow tunnel. Apparently these folks practice using them or something because in no time at all they had left me behind. I had to fight down a little feeling of anger. After all, I had just rescued them and now they were leaving me behind. However, I also know that I would do the exact same thing if I were them. It is sort of foolish to have somebody go through all the trouble of saving your life and then you screw up and die anyways because you kept waiting for that person to continue saving you. The saving is a very simple and single act. Once you have done it, the rest is up to the person you have provided that opportunity. That is something Mama Lindsay and Mama Janie stressed while I was growing up.

A small square of light appeared just ahead after I rounded what felt like the millionth corner. I had to wriggle a bit to climb out. All my gear was making me a bit bulky. That was when I realized that the tribal people did not bog themselves down with a whole bunch of protective gear. They were built for speed.

When I climbed out of the hole, the mother was standing there. She also happened to have a great big knife in her hand that was pointed at my eyeball.

“Whoa!” I put my hands up. “I just helped you and your family escape, I really don’t think we need to do this.”

“I don’t want you following us,” the woman said in a whisper. “We are going this way,” she cocked her head off to her left, “and I don’t want you following us.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a nod.

“I just have one question,” the woman said as she turned to go. “Who are you people? We have lived in peace with the folks from Warehouse City. When did you all decide to start attacking the tribes?”

“Actually, a military force has captured Warehouse City. Their leader wants to subjugate everybody for some stupid re
ason. I’m not actually from there…I’m from Sunset Fortress…we were wiped out too.”

The woman seemed to consider my words for a moment. She nodded and then turned and vanished around the corner of a building that was little more than a pile of burnt wood. Even though I was staring right at her and her kids, they basically seemed to disappear before my eyes.

Well, that was enough of that for now. I needed to make myself scarce. The problem that I had was that I had absolutely no idea where I was or which direction to go. I heard commotion behind me, so I decided that my best bet was to move in the opposite direction.

I started at an easy jog. Using all my EEF training, I took in my surroundings and made my way into the ruins of a series of buildings with similar design and features. Any signs that ident
ified this complex were long gone, but it looked like a factory of some sort and there were a lot of transport trucks in rows in one area.

That would be the easiest way to go to lose anybody who might be on my trail. It would also be the worst place to go b
ecause of all the blind spots. The only weapon that any of us recruits had been given was a small baton. This was not a mission where we were expected to deal with the undead, and I now understood why a detachment of soldiers had been sent ahead of us to take out any zombies. We were not really given anything that would constitute as a real weapon. Killing a zombie by beating its head in was not something that you wanted to do if you could help it. And if you were facing more than one…that was basically a death sentence. Even after all these years, the skull is a tough nut to crack.

I ducked down one of the rows of slowly deteriorating and vine-covered semis. Nature had helped in one aspect. The vines and brambles that were covering these vehicles had turned them into giant, solid rectangles. Even if there might be something underneath one of the trailers, it was basically trapped in their now. The vines were a tough curtain to get through for a person with a blade. Using your hands would take forever.

The sounds of the tribal village faded as I continued moving. They had to be aware of my absence by now. And it was not like we were able to hide the manner in which we escaped. I knew I didn’t have very much more of a head start. The question was just how intense and determined the search for me would be.

As I came out the far end of the truck graveyard, I had my answer. I could hear the sounds of yelling and shouting. Som
ebody was using a megaphone.

“Snoe Gainey, this is Captain Warren. I know you can hear me…you could not have gotten that far away. You need to turn yourself in before the consequences are too great,” a low-pitched voice called.

A very tall fence was in my way. I gave it a little bit of a shake. The vines and stuff growing through all the little diamond shaped openings actually helped keep the thing standing. I was not entirely sure if it would support my weight, but this was my way out now. After another shake for good measure, I peeled off my heavy leather jacket and started to climb. When I reached the top, I threw the jacket over the strands of barbed wire that were at the top and slanted away from me. Supposedly this was to keep people on the outside from coming in. I didn’t see how if their form of security could be easily circumvented with something as simple as tossing a coat over it.

Since it was only ten feet or so, I dropped to the ground. On the plus side, I was over and an enormous bit of rolling grassland stretched out before me. It was a good two or three miles of easy ground and then dense forest. As soon as I was over the first hill, I would be almost invisible. Sure, my path would be easy to fo
llow, but once I made it to the woods, I had no doubt that I could lose any remaining pursuit. The negative was that my coat would be an arrow pointing to my escape route. A soon as they reached the end of the trucks, somebody would see me. Also…I had lost my coat.

I started at the jogging pace that you learned to master in the EEF. One of the things that they taught you was that our greatest advantage over zombies other than our mind, was our speed. And the beauty was that we just needed to be a bit faster than them to get away. The mistake would be to burn all of your e
nergy right away. So, one of the things that you learned was what the EEF manual called your “All Day Pace”.

I started for the mountains. I knew that I was going to need to find a weapon soon. Also, as I ran, it dawned on me that I did not have a plan at all. I had a few miles of running ahead. That was the perfect time to come up with one.

***

If this was the enemy, I really had no idea how we had lost to them so far and so fast. I slipped the pitiful attempt that the soldiers made in almost no time and with practically no effort. By the time I had reached the trees and began to move up into the hills, I was settled on my course of action.

It would take me a few days, but at the moment, it seemed like the best possible plan. It was around that time that I started to really wish I had something to write with in order to keep track of the events as they unfolded. (That is a wish that I am both happy and sad was fulfilled for reasons that you will see later. I had no idea what was happening, or what I had set in to motion with my escape. Had I known…dear God, had I only known.)

That first night was exciting…initially. By a few hours after dark, I was cold and miserable. It was sometime in November by now and the weather was awful. I was grossly unprepared for being out in it and had to take shelter in a filthy, rundown trailer that was just out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing good that I can say about the place is that it kept me mostly dry.

I was awoken once in the middle of the night by something pawing at the outside of the trailer. I knew it wasn’t a zombie because of the noises being made. I didn’t dare look, but in the morning I found deep furrows in the siding made by what had to be a pretty big bear.

As the sun came up, I oriented myself and headed east. It would take two days to get back to Sunset if everything went okay. I should have known better.

***

It was still early, not even noon yet when I realized that I was being followed. Since all I had for a weapon was a baton, I knew that I was in no position for any sort of fight with anything beyond a single zombie. And when it came to the living, I had even worse odds.