Zomblog Saga Box Set (Books 1-6) (82 page)

It really went up in a pillar of beautiful flame. I felt the heat even as far away as I’d managed to get before it blew. I hoped that this would let anybody still alive in my group know that they were not alone. Also, I really hoped that Rodney would find me. As I ran, I left the mark: “26”. Every chance I got, I would pause and pull the tube from my pouch and mark a building or landmark that anybody passing would see.

One thing that I am very good at is the crossbow. That is why I moved to the fourth level after checking it from top to bottom. Except for a few that I found trapped in cars, the place was clear. The ones in the car had worn their hands down to nubs over the years as they pounded, slapped, and clawed at their interior surroundings to no avail. Some had open windows. Those I just drove a spear into the heads of and moved on.

For the rest of the day, and even for a while after dark in case somebody lit off a glow stick, I walked the rim of the top tier in hopes that I would see signs of anybody.

First thing this morning, I was up and at it again. Not a sign of one single living soul. The fire is still burning, or at least there is still a lot of smoke climbing into the sky from the area.

As darkness settles in, I guess I have a choice. Do I wait a
nother day? Or, do I set out for home by myself.

Friday, July 20
th

Found Rodney. He is pretty beat up.

I started out at first light, making my way through the ruins of this part of Old Portland. I spotted our symbol on the front of a building and couldn’t believe my luck. Had I walked down one block further or started south one block sooner…I would have missed it.

I was a little concerned when the marked building had a walker standing right outside. Plus, the big windows that wrapped around the place were all broken. I totally expected to find one of our group inside…and I was ready to put him or her down.

I skidded to a halt when the zombie turned to face me. I’d not been paying attention and stepped on some broken glass. Not that I had cared much if one zombie heard me coming. I just wasn’t prepared to see the slack face of Captain Vaughn staring back at me with those milky eyes laced with the black squiggles.

I already had my spear ready and closed the short distance between us at a jog. I wanted to put him down quick. Seeing him up close like that was playing on all the guilt I felt about his death. I was not prepared for the captain to turn away from me and start walking up the street.

I don’t know how long I stood in the open, completely e
xposed to anything that might have passed by. I just didn’t know what to do. It was as if the captain knew who I was and didn’t want to hurt me. I knew that was a bunch of crazy thinking. Zombies don’t think, feel, or have the ability to remember. They are exactly what the name says: zombies.

It was the low moan coming from inside that snapped me back to reality. I gave the captain one last look as he turned a corner in the distance and vanished from view. I hurried inside and discovered Rodney lying behind a waist-high counter. It took him moaning twice more, but I found him.

His face was all bloody, eyes swollen shut, and his lips were split. It took me another few seconds to realize that he was missing his gear. He didn’t have a single weapon, pouch, or canteen. I gave him a drink from one of mine before ripping a strip from one of my rags and getting it wet. Even being careful, he made a much bigger fuss than I would have expected from somebody so manly while I was cleaning his face.

The biggest problem I had was that he wasn’t going an
ywhere. Even as I cleaned him up and he whimpered and whined, I knew that he would not be able to get up and start walking. He kept mumbling and fussing. And then he said something that made my get a weird feeling in my stomach.

“Yes, sir, Captain Vaughn.”

I tried to brush it off as a combination of him being delirious and me being freaked out and more than a little paranoid. After all, it
had
to be a coincidence. Right?

I made sure he was going to be okay for a bit, and then I ran out and looked for something that I could use to transport Ro
dney back to that parking garage. I found a big metal cart. The wheels were kinda shaky, but I got him back while only drawing the attentions of twenty or so walkers.

I have us set up on the top floor, in a space between a big, yellow car that looks like it could drive through a concrete wall, and a truck. The car is actually bigger than the truck. The name is a bit cryptic: H2.

I may be stuck here for a few days. My newest problem/question is what exactly happened to Rodney.

Saturday, July 21
st

Not much change. He keeps mumbling something, and I swear I hear him saying the captain’s name over and over. Maybe he has some guilty feelings over the fact that the captain had to sacrifice himself for all of us.

Keep telling yourself that, Snoe.

Also, I thought I saw a fire. Not the big one that I started (which has almost burned itself out now), but a campfire. I know that if I did see a campfire, it is not likely to be one of my group. We are taught in day one of EEF training that you never light a fire in the open. Besides the zombies that might see it and be drawn to it…there are still Travelers and marauders out there who you don’t try to draw the attention of for obvious reasons.

I tried to mark it against the shadows of the ruined skyline, but by morning, I couldn’t quite remember, and there was no trace of smoke or anything else. I spent the day making regular patrols around the upper level and hoping I would see something from one of ours. Also, I cut the seat cover out of the back of the H2 and marked the pale side with our symbol, and then I hung it from the top of a light pole. I used a stick to keep it extended and readable. Sure, if anybody is in the area, they might notice it and come sniffing around. That is the chance I have to take.

Sunday, July 22
nd

Rodney came to for a while today. He said that I need to leave him and get out of here. It would seem that there is some territorial tribe around. I don’t know how much of what he said should be taken to heart. He said a lot of things, and most of them made no sense.

He says Captain Vaughn rescued him after he got jumped. He also says that the captain stood watch over him until I a
rrived. I gave him some water and managed a little food into his mouth between his ravings.

Monday, July 23
rd

I woke this morning to find Rodney stiff and cold. I don’t know what more I could have done to save him. The most upsetting aspect was that I didn’t know anything about his history. If he’d been one of those immune types that suffered a bite or been infected at some point, I could have been in big trouble.

Since there is no way that I can transport him, I made a point to remember where I left his body. I considered torching the building, but I figure I have done enough fire-starting on this trip.

Tonight I am in a weird building with all kinds of bizarre machines. On one floor, all along the tinted, grimy window are about fifty bicycles. Well, not
real
bicycles. They don’t go anywhere. They are “bicycle machines”. I did recognize this place as some sort of workout facility, only, all I’ve ever seen are bars and steel plates. Most of these machines look more like something you would expect to find in a torture chamber.

From here, I can see the Steel Bridge in the distance. I have scanned it with my binoculars a few times, but nothing indicates that any of my group has returned. I keep remembering that one cluster of zombies that day. I have to believe that at least one more of us went down.

Tomorrow, I will make an attempt to get to the bridge. I just wanted to be sure that nothing might jump out at me.

Tuesday, July 24
th

Found Phaedra and John. They were in an old movie house. The signal was posted on the busted up marquee that dangled precariously over the dark entrance.

I told them about Rodney and filled them in on all I’ve seen. We decided to head back to Corridor 26. The whereabouts of Jeff remain a mystery; however, the job on the Steel Bridge is complete. Apparently he was able to inflict enough damage to the repaired section of the bridge. Phaedra says that the next train through will probably trigger a collapse or derail and plunge into the river.

I asked if they knew whether he made it off that bridge. Phaedra said that she was insisting he run, but he kept saying he was almost done and didn’t want to risk missing out on this opportunity. She eventually had to go. I asked if she heard the scream. She said that she did, but it hadn’t sounded like it came from where she’d left Jeff.

Tonight, we are in that same apartment building where we lost the captain. We climbed to the roof this time. It allowed a very good view of the surrounding area. What we saw chilled me. I can’t speak for the others, but I am scared.

In the distance, across the river and maybe a good four or five miles away, there is a huge scattering of fires. Campfires. Nobody needed to say anything. I think we all know what an army looks like. There is a force and I’d be willing to wager a year’s pay as to their destination.

Wednesday, July 25
th

Reached Corridor 26 late this evening. I am sitting in quarantine waiting for blood tests to clear. Phaedra is already meeting with Mama Lindsay and the president.

Rodney’s wife came to see me. I guess she was briefed on her husband’s death and wanted to hear me tell her all the d
etails. It felt bizarre relating it all to this strange woman who kept crying. I asked her a bunch of times if she wanted me to stop, but she insisted on hearing it all.

An hour later, Mama Lindsay came to see me. Rodney’s wife is unaccounted for. She signed out at the North Gate…twenty minutes after our meeting.

That is exactly what I needed to feel just a little bit worse.

Monday, July 30
th

Patrols came in today with bad news. What we saw was in fact a large contingent of the NAA. Also, it seems that all of our plans were for nothing; they had the bridge repaired yesterday and the train pushed through.

On the plus side of things, it seems that the tribes in the area were no more receptive to the NAA presence then they were to ours. One of our scouting outposts reported several small ski
rmishes. There were no accurate reports on casualties, but the NAA unleashed a weapon that has everybody worried. (Once the word gets out, all rumors from the field spread like wildfire.) They had something on one of the flatcars on the train that looked like a big spray nozzle. It shot flames at least a hundred feet if you believe the rumors.

The one thing I am hoping is that the teams responsible for tearing up the train tracks leading here (this used to be a major transit hub, and that is how the NAA has always come to our settlement and provided us with help) have done a better job than we apparently did on our mission.

I asked Mama Lindsay how we could have failed so spectacularly. She said that it is obvious that Jeff didn’t finish whatever he had in mind. It was a calculated risk and only intended to gain us more time. There was never any question that the NAA would repair what we did and cross the river.

That confused me even further. We lost three people out of six on a mission that does not seem to really have a purpose. I pressed her on that and she said something about it being as much about the message as the action.

I don’t think Rodney’s wife saw it that way.

Tuesday, July 31
st

The hardest part of keeping this journal is feeling like I am always forgetting something. Days like today make me feel that it is impossible to really tell you what is happening. It also makes me wonder just how much Meredith or Sam left out. Seriously, how can you recount an entire day in a few paragraphs or pages?

We were attacked in the night last night. Actually, it ha
ppened just after I finished my entry and had snuggled in to my bed. I could feel how tired my body was as I pulled my blanket up to my chin.

I heard that first explosion and I knew what it was before my feet touched the floor. It was obvious after the past several days.

Sure enough, as I walked outside into the warm drizzle of a summer rain storm, I could smell it. Not the relaxing fragrance of rain on the grass; instead, I smelled the acrid stench of chemicals used to set things on fire.

I shouldered my field pack (that is something you learn in grade school…if the Corridor comes under attack, you have an emergency pack for survival in the wild), and headed towards the bright orange glow of flames.

People ran past me shouting all sorts of things. A few of my friends from school stopped me and asked what they should do. I guess, since I am in the EEF and not a farmer or a builder, they must believe I would have real answers. Nope.