Zomblog: Snoe's Journey Read online

  I am them.

  Friday, July 22nd

  We are riding west. I guess I will not be seeing Oklahoma…at least not right away. In fact, I may never see it, but that will be okay if it ends up turning out the way Angel Snow Owl predicted.

  I should probably put as much down tonight as I can. I don’t know if I really understood it all. Maybe being able to go back and read it later will help.

  The Elders arrived almost the moment that I finished yesterday’s entry. There were twenty-seven of them, which, oddly enough did not make this cabin feel crowded at all.

  After Angel made the introductions, one of the Elders stepped forward. He gave me a look that made me feel like the wilted carrots on the cart of a vegetable vendor’s cart.

  “I will see this mark before this goes any further,” he said with a tone that made it clear that this was a demand and not a request.

  “I have no idea what sort of mark you are talking about. I don’t have any mark on me,” I insisted. I had heard the rumor, but I just did not care for his attitude.

  Erik made some sort of noise and after a moment, Angel nodded and smiled. “You have a white birthmark that is in the shape of the head of a buffalo on your scalp, just below the crown of your head.”

  I guess that would be why I never saw it. Still, I had no idea what the deal was about a birthmark no matter what color or where it might be located, or what shape it might look like.

  This Elder, his name was—and I am not making this up—Bill Screaming Eagle, came up and I let Angel fuss around with my hair. I heard the gasp which I guess was the verification that I indeed had some sort of mark on the back of my head.

  One by one, all of the other Elders came and looked at my head. I figured it was almost rubbed bald by the time the last few came to see for themselves.

  Once that was done, the next bit of formality required that we all sit down and eat together. I guess Erik had everything ready on that front and we sat down to a venison stew, roasted vegetables, flatbread, and this berry spread that I may never forget.

  After the meal, they started talking about my returning to the lands of the Confederated Tribes to be presented to “my” people as a sign of something to do with a Seventh Generation or some such nonsense. That was when I put my foot down.

  “I’m not going anywhere with anybody,” I insisted. “I came here because the people that I have grown up with, the people who were my people way before you, are facing a force that will wipe them out if I don’t get help.”

  This made everybody start talking at the same time. Actually, I was kind of glad to see this outburst. Up until that moment, there had been very little in the way of what I would consider normal emotional responses. Everybody was so…stiff. It was almost like they had turned the knobs controlling their emotions down to zero.

  I let them holler and carry on for a bit. Finally, I stood up and folded my arms across my chest until every set of eyes looked at me and every mouth shut. (I learned that trick from one of my school teachers.)

  “I have no idea what the heck you are talking about with this Seventh Generation prophecy. But what I do know is that you seem to think I am some sort of symbol. From the bits and pieces that I have picked up from your talking and that little prayer thingy, this is about coming together in peace and love.” I let my gaze drift over all of them as I spoke. I can’t swear to it, but I think Erik was smiling…sorta. “I will go with you, but only after I know that General Carson and this group of NAA lunatics have been stopped. If I know that everybody can go back to living a relatively peaceful life, then I will do whatever you want me to do.”

  This did not go over very well. There was more yelling and arguing. At some point, I might have actually fallen asleep. Hey, I was full from dinner and the room was toasty warm. Whatever the case, Angel finally gave me a nudge and asked me to follow her outside.

  “We must leave…now.” She only added that last word after I looked at her with what I can assume to be a look that expressed the fact that I was confused.

  “But what about this council? Are the Elders against helping? Because I mean what I said when I told them I won’t go with them until I know that General Carson is taken out.”

  “And that is where they are split. Erik sent Kai with a message back to the tribes. He is certain that some will come despite the fact that the Elders will not have ruled on it for the next few days at the least.” Angel gave me a quick smile. “He also says that if you are even the tiniest bit as stubborn as your mother, there will be no bargaining from your side. That is why he has taken it upon himself to call on some of the warriors that he knows will answer his call despite any decision reached by the Elders.”

  “So we are just going to leave?” I asked. “We are not even going to wait to see what these Elders decide?”

  “They will argue for at least a full cycle of the moon. Erik says that they have become complacent behind the walls we built and do not understand how important it is to act immediately when it comes to things going on in the world,” Angel explained.

  And so we saddled up our horses and we left. When I say “we”, I mean Angel, me, and three of the people that were sitting around the fire that day I woke to find her in the cabin with company. There was no talking and we rode in a single-file line with me stuck right in the middle. At least I got to bring Mato.

  We did not stop to make camp until well after dark. I could hardly see my hand in front of my face. Just as we did finally stop, I had a flash of paranoia. What if Angel was lying to me for some reason? What if she was getting me away from everything and everybody to do something terrible?

  Right about then, as they were getting a small, covered fire lit, she handed me a note. I did not even bother to ask, since everybody seems to be able to read my face and know what I am feeling. I will just assume that it had nothing to do with how high I jumped when she tapped on my shoulder to give me the note, gave the briefest of dirty looks, and said, “I’m not your enemy, Snoe. Now take this and read it. It is from Erik.”

  I unfolded the note and read:

  Snoe Gainey,

  You know that I travelled with your mother. What you do not know is that I have had people watching you for all of your life. Many folks, some that you call Travelers, and even some that live in and around the place you know as Sunset Fortress and Warehouse City, have kept eyes on you as you grew older.

  There was a man you knew as Captain Vaughn. He was a guardian that has watched over you since the day that Meredith gave you to the two women who raised you.

  I was sorry to lose him. Word returned to me that he perished on a mission he undertook with you. I was also told that he is one of the ones we call the elun el nagi, or present in the soul. Some of the undead that you call zombies manage to fight against their new nature. For a reason we can never understand, some of the zombies are so strongly driven by something in their living time that they will not seek to attack humans. The last that I heard, Captain Vaughn had somehow managed to attract a following of thousands of these zombies. He led them out into the desert of Eastern Oregon where they now simply stand until the wind and sun can reclaim their bodies. Even in death, his final act was to somehow see to your safety.

  All who watched over you knew that you bore the mark of the White Buffalo, and it was because of that one single thing that it was important to keep you safe. You may not understand it, but you symbolize the peace and a return of our ways to our people.

  I will not bore you with my own long studies of the prophecies that said you would come, nor will I ask you to believe in it as deeply as I do. What I will ask is that you draw upon the spirit and heart of your father.

  You do not have to believe in something for it to be so. My people…your people…they believe in the power behind what you symbolize. Do not allow any of your own doubts to rob a nation of its hope.

  Return to the place you know as Sunset Fortress. It is there that my warriors will seek you. I offer them to y
ou. They offer their lives to your cause. In exchange, I ask that you finish what you feel needs to be done, and then consider all I have said. Act upon what you feel in your heart.

  I can only pray that it will be to return.

  Mitakuye Oyasin. It is more than what you have heard.

  Erik Greyfeather

  So, after reading the letter, I don’t feel suspicious about Angel and her group. However, I am really struggling with this idea that I am some sort of symbol. If I was overwhelmed when people started putting me, an eighteen-year-old girl, in charge of things back in Irony…well…this is WAY more.

  I am just not sure that I can buy into what they are selling. Still, I do remember some rough times growing up in The Corridor. I remember the community rallying around things, events, and people. I don’t think any who were there will ever forget Jenifer’s speech that July when the early rumblings of all this insanity was just beginning. I know they drew strength from doing so. It was not as if whatever it was they were using to motivate themselves had some sort of physical tangibility, it was simply that the belief in it was enough to push a person to try just a little harder.

  Well, I guess none of it will matter right now. I don’t plan on hiding in the background while others do the fighting. And I can’t even say for certain that General Carson will be the final threat. Or that he is all that the NAA has to throw at us.

  What I can say is that we have to fight for what is ours and do our best to restore things in some way that will allow as many people as possible to try and live in some semblance of a community.

  Saturday, July 23rd

  We were back at it before the sun rose. That is a good thing, because some time before midday, the storms came and unleashed rain in sheets that made it almost impossible to see the nose of the horse you were riding.

  Poor Mato had his head down the whole day. I don’t know how he walked all day like that. He didn’t seem to need to look up one single time. Even more impressive was when that bolt of lightning hit that tree about fifty or so yards away and blew it to smithereens. Mato did not even hardly flinch. I think his ear might have twitched a bit.

  I don’t care if it was supposedly warm weather, after being soaked through like that, the slightest breeze chilled me all the way to my core. However, despite the rain coming down so hard and making such a racket, along with the rolling thunder that never seemed to stop, I could not hear over my own teeth clicking together. Rest assured, my jaw is sore now from that non-stop chattering, and I even bit my tongue a half dozen times or so.

  To say that I am miserable right now would be putting it lightly. I really did take for granted the luxury of growing up inside the comparatively safe confines of the walls that protected Corridor 26.

  It has made me reflect on what it must have been like for my dad…and for Meredith. And I know that some of you reading this will probably try to see something in the fact that I call her by name, yet I still call Sam my dad. I don’t dispute who gave birth to me, nor do I have any problems with what Meredith did in giving me to Mama Janie and Mama Lindsay. I do believe that, if he would have lived, Sam would have let Meredith go and stayed with me.

  I know who raised me, and my mothers will always be special in a way that nobody else can ever replace. There is more to being a mother or father than simply introducing a child into the world.

  Sunday, July 24th

  We found signs that perhaps there is a large raiding party in the area. This morning, as we started our ride, we noticed a column of smoke rising in the clear morning sky.

  We decided that it was pretty close to the direction that we were travelling anyway, so it really only amounted to a slight veering a bit more due west. Of course, we did not know for sure that it was a settlement that was burning until we came to the ridge overlooking the place

  Since there is no proof, I can’t be sure, but something in my gut says that this is the work of the NAA. Angel disagrees. She says that General Carson and his people headed towards the Las Vegas Occupied Zone. When I asked how she knew that for certain (I have heard the same rumors since back in Irony, but I was curious), she told me that the Confederated Tribes have eyes watching any and all large settlements and forces.

  Almost on cue, three men came out of the brush. They looked just like what few pictures I have seen when it comes to the old time images of Native Americans. They wore simple animal skin loincloth-type things and had a quiver of arrows over one shoulder. Their long black hair was in braids and their faces were painted in blacks and grays.

  Angel made us all stop and she went over to them to speak. After a few minutes, she brought them all over to our little group. She didn’t bother with introductions—which I think is a bit rude—and relayed at least some of what they told her.

  Just after dark last night, a large band of men on horseback rode into the small settlement. Somebody inside let them in and they rounded up everybody, making them all stand in the rain while they went house to house and took whatever supplies they grabbed. They had a wagon with one of those flame shooting hoses, so the people really had no choice but to let these men take what they wanted.

  The problems occurred when some of the men started taking advantage of some of the women of the settlement. That was when the people began to resist. There was a fight at some point that turned into a bit of a riot. That was when the invaders opened up with the flame shooting hose and began torching all the homes.

  Besides having the people outnumbered almost two-to-one, they also had far superior weapons. It was a wholesale slaughter. The invaders headed west and have several hours on us, but I guess some of the Natives are tracking them. And no, it was not General Carson and his men, but they were flying the NAA banner.

  That was not exactly the news I wanted to hear. This means that there is more than one army out there to worry about. However, if it can be considered good news, the consensus is that this group is actually heading towards where General Carson is supposedly camped out.

  We rode into the village and put down a few walkers; probably people who were immune but had been bitten at some point. Then we hauled all the bodies to one of the buildings that still burned. We tossed the bodies into the flames and then two of the men chanted something. I have never heard anything so simultaneously beautiful but sad in my life.

  We rode in silence the rest of the day.

  Tuesday, July 26th

  We skirted the ruins of what was a pretty large city. I didn’t ask, and nobody offered to tell me. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

  That brings me to this point; I have asked a few times as we rode along what the name of a particular river might be or what town lies in the distance. The Natives either don’t know, or they don’t care. They say things like, “What would you call it if you were to give it a name?”

  What the heck kind of question is that? How am I supposed to know what to call it? As for the towns and occasional cities we see in the distance, I guess I am going to have to wait until I get home. I will find a map and try to guess the general route that we took and find out for myself.

  I seem to recall a similar situation between Meredith and Erik Greyfeather. Maybe it is a Native American thing.

  Wednesday, July 27th

  Today was more what I felt to be in my comfort zone. Yep…zombies.

  We were just breaking camp when a single walker just sort of staggered into our midst. The interesting thing about this one was that it was obviously fresh. Oh…and he had a patch on his tattered jacket: New American Army.

  I was actually the one to first notice him and was really not all that excited. After all, one zombie is hardly anything worth getting worked up over these days.

  Just as I pulled my blade free, I heard something. That damn baby cry. It was in some brush, so I waited for it to come stumbling out…only, it didn’t. However, coming through the trees just to my left were a few dozen more. It was a mix of fresh and some of the more…seasoned versions.

  Now
everybody was involved. Also, the horses started making a fuss. I saw two of the men rush out to where the horses were hobbled, but I was suddenly finding myself up to my armpits in zombies.

  A damned mini-herd had literally stumbled upon our location. It probably could not have been more than a hundred or so, but when you are not really expecting them, it can be dangerous.

  We managed to put them all down without anybody getting a scratch and then set to breaking camp. Then I heard it again, from the same location. The baby cry.

  I looked around and nobody seemed to be noticing it. Sure, it was faint, but I did not see how anybody could miss that sound. I headed over in the direction I was sure that it came from and started poking around in the brush with my long blade. If it was a creeper, I didn’t need to have it grab my ankle.

  Just as I was about to poke this dense copse of brush, I heard a very distinct, “Shhh!” come from the area. I was certain that zombies did not shush each other.

  I froze and waited; then I heard a whimper.

  I moved some of the stalks of vegetation aside and that is how I discovered Megan and her little sister, Ginny.

  Megan is six years old and has wild red hair that is curly in ways I could never do justice with words. The poor girl looks like she got hit by lightning…twice. Her eyes are a deep hazel and she has about nine billion freckles on her face, shoulders, and arms. The missing front teeth only add to her cute factor.

  As for Ginny, I would guess her to be about eighteen months old. A zombie got a good nip on her left arm, but she does not seem any worse off than if she were dealing with any other slightly infected injury in need of cleaning and medicine.

  What happened next almost derailed everything.

  I called Angel over. She took a look, nodded, and went back to getting her horse ready. Everybody else seemed just as oblivious to the little girl I had under my arm who was clutching her fussy and injured baby sister.