Shandra picked it up from there. She and Kenny were leading or carrying the children that Jeff had rescued down a trail. They were staying low because the zombies from all over were being drawn to this new beacon. Between the screams, gunfire, and flames, every zombie for miles would be converging on the mansion.
Kenny was carrying a little girl no more than two or three. Shandra had an infant in her small backpack that she’d slung in front. It was a little awkward, but doable. They got down to a service road and ran into a cluster of zombies. Up to this point, the children had been quiet. Kenny motioned for everybody to head into a thick bush across the road. They could almost slide down the hill the rest of the way to where the train tracks were located.
Then the women I’d freed showed up. The zombies were in the middle of the two groups. Shandra said that, while you couldn’t make out details clearly, the moon was bright and provided more than enough light in this little strip. Being on the road, there was no canopy of trees. One of the women screamed. Then, the children began to cry.
Things got a bit hazy after that. Zombies were coming at both groups. Shandra quickly decided that the women were on their own and ushered the children through the brush and sorta bundled them close and got them scooting down the hill. Kenny reached the bottom, shoved the little girl he was holding in his arms to Shandra, and took off back up the hill to the screams.
There are eleven women here thanks to him. The way they describe it, they were surrounded by several dozen zombies with no way out. Some had picked up branches, but most of them had been too deeply gripped with shock to react in any way other than to stumble blindly through the woods and away from the mansion.
Kenny burst from the trees screaming some sort of battle-cry. He plowed into the undead horde swinging an axe in one hand, and firing point-blank with his pistol in the other. He opened a small gap that a few of the less-terrified women slipped through. The last anybody saw of him, he was leaning over one downed, crying woman, firing up at a handful of zombies closing in. One woman swore she saw him shove the barrel of the pistol in his mouth as two of those things were tearing chunks out of him.
Shandra led the children into the tunnel and arrived to find Scott Colson sitting up. Rodney was the last to talk. He and Darla had come in from the front of the place. Together, they were efficiently dispatching the security patrols. Rodney began with the vehicles, stuffing rags into every gas tank. Darla’d likely heard all the commotion (probably us) kick up and decided to try and create a diversion. She climbed into one of the trucks and started it. Rodney turned in time to see her race past, headed right for the big house. A few yards before impact, she dove clear. Rodney said she did everything right. She hit the ground rolling, popped to her feet with a big “thumbs-up” gesture, running back towards him. Whoever was up in that window was a hell of a shot because she knew to zig-and-zag with no pattern. The bullet entered the back of her skull and blew out most of the left side of her face. He said she still had a huge grin plastered on what was left of her face—even in death. She never knew what hit her.
By then, every window of the mansion seemed to be bristling with guns. He saw flashes inside, and was lighting his second truck-bomb, when flames whooshed out one window on the right side of the mansion. He lit the other three and ran for it. He looked back to admire his work when a dark haired girl burst out the front door. He said he felt a sick feeling in his stomach. That girl was going to run right into the cluster of trucks he knew was going to blow up any second. Knowing you were responsible for collateral damage was worse if you physically witnessed it. But instead of running straight for the driveway and the quickest way out, the girl turned and bolted along the front of the house, disappearing down its left side.
Then, Jenifer emerged. He said he could tell she’d been shot. A large, dark bloom was easily visible in the light of the small fire started by Darla’s truck. Jumping up, Rodney yelled a warning. Jenifer must’ve misunderstood because she ran towards him. Then the first truck exploded.
When he got to her, he thought she was dead at first. She was lying where the blast had thrown her, still burning. All of her hair was gone. He’d wrapped her in his coat and carried her. Twice he’d had to literally shoulder past zombies. He met up with Jeff, each of them carrying a bundled up female on the edge of death. Together, they reached the mouth of the tunnel when a half-dozen men and women came running down the tracks from the direction of the amphitheater. During the brief shootout, Jeff took one bullet in the thigh, it lodged in the femur. Somehow, he still carried me the rest of the way. Doctor Gene says he shouldn’t have been able to support his own weight, much less carry me.
Jamaal and Antoine say that the mansion is gone. Burned to the ground. Zombies are everywhere. A lot of them are new. There is no way to tell how many of The Genesis Brotherhood survived. Also, it seems likely that Dominique got away. The women we rescued were all questioned about any knowledge of a fall-back location. None of them know a thing.
Figures.
Friday, May 29
While I’ve been laying here on my back, occasionally being allowed to go out of my room for a short walk or a trip to sit in the room with Jenifer, Rodney has been busy. He went on a one-man recon mission. This morning he returned.
I HATE being down like this. He spent the last three days at the mansion, or, better yet, the ruins of the mansion. He came back with news: Dominique is alive, and so are at least fifteen other members of The Genesis Brotherhood. He wouldn’t engage them when he saw them because there were simply too many.
According to Rodney, they came in early yesterday morning. Since there was a lot of residual zombie traffic, they came in with heavy firepower in the back of a freakin’ armored-car...van...whatever; those things that used to pull up and collect all the money. A trio of two-man teams came out quick with .50 cals mounted on tripods and mowed down anything moving.
That
was probably the real reason Rodney left them alone.
Afterwards, they sifted through things, salvaging anything they could. One thing happened that was weird or peculiar. Although, when dealing with lunatics, I don’t know if anything they do can be considered weird for them. One of their numbers got bit. They were spread out, rummaging—five women and ten men split in two-to-one groups—when it happened. The guy screamed. He came out with a bodiless head clamped onto his hand. More than likely a result from their machinegun razing of everything. If the brain isn’t damaged, a head is a zombie-landmine.
The group converged on this man, and after dealing with the head, turned on the guy. But they didn’t kill him. They trussed him up nice, then built a cross. Yep, you guessed it, they crucified the guy. When they left, he was still screaming for them to please kill him. I’m so proud of Rodney...he left that bastard to turn and rot.
These folks aren’t too far away. The Genesis Brotherhood are now licking their wounds in a very nice house on the Portland side of the West Hills. According to Rodney, this was a house worth seven figures back in the day. It juts out of the hill on metal supports. It’s beautiful, all glass on one side so that whoever used to call it home could look down on the twinkling lights of the city at night or gaze out at Mount Hood by day. It has a brick fence around the front that is a huge arc around an overgrown, but still beautiful garden. There is a big gate that would open inward back when there was electricity.
We’ve talked at length, Rodney and I. He is fairly certain he knows where to acquire some C-4 and even some dynamite as an added bonus. He will leave in a couple days. He told me exactly where he is going. We aren’t saying a word, and I won’t say anything if asked. We both have the feeling that everybody is a little upset with all the killing lately. It’s one thing to kill zombies, but we’re engaged in an active war with living, breathing people. Strange how these feelings get twisted up for some folks. Personally, I have no problem with this. The Genesis Brotherhood needs to die.
Monday, June 1
Last night Jenifer woke up. It was only for a little while, maybe ten minutes, but Doctor Gene said she seems to be improving. I’m just really sad that I missed out. I would’ve loved to see her with her eyes open for a change.
I found out today that everybody here has been more involved in mine, Jeff’s, and Jenifer’s recovery than I could’ve guessed. It seems that every single person here donated blood, that includes the women who we rescued. The children that are old enough have been helping Antoine and Jamaal in the garden.
Rodney left early this morning. He slipped into my room to say goodbye. He is also the first person who told me about Jenifer waking up. (Credit where it’s due, Jamaal came in shortly after Rodney left and told me, too.)
A funny thing happened today. Jeff came in to see me, he’s walking with help from a cane and a full leg-cast, and he wanted to know if I still had plans for a trip south. I said I did. Then he asked if I was in a hurry. I told him I didn’t think Vegas was gonna go anywhere. He said he didn’t think he’d be at a hundred percent until next spring.
I guess I won’t be traveling alone.
Tuesday, June 2
I woke up to a true surprise. Jenifer is awake! She’s weak, and can barely speak above a whisper, but I got to give her juice from a sippy cup. She says she can’t remember a thing. Not just of the battle, but of like a week before.
I sat with her all day. It was the third visit by Doctor Gene that made me ask where Shari was. It seems she left a few days ago with a group that returned to Sunset. They took all the very young children with them. Not even a “goodbye” or “hope ya get better soon” from her. I wonder what I did to make her dislike me so much. Oh well, screw her.
I’ve got this super-comfy recliner to sit in, so I’m gonna sorta be Jenifer’s roomie. Doctor Gene gave it a nod, then announced I start physical therapy tomorrow. Hmmm. It sounded kinda ominous. I’ve been moving about on my own, so I don’t know what the big deal is.
Also, I was more than a little surprised to discover that a route from here to Sunset has been cleared. Partially highway, partially backroad, but there is now an open avenue for a vehicle to move between here and Sunset. I guess they use some intricate decoys to minimize zombie traffic and cut down on herds. There are five “start-points” where fueled vehicles wait. This also keeps the zombies from finding one single location and surrounding it.
They actually send a team out to create a distraction. Then, whoever is gonna ride loads up and goes. The next location is obviously The Complex. However, as far out as that is—I’d imagine it to be easily over thirty miles—that should take longer. Still, it’s a start. God help us! Civilization is trying to rise from the ashes.
Wednesday, June 3
Met with my physical terrorist today. It seems that one of the women we rescued tortured people for a living in the olden days. Her name is Paula Greer and I hate her guts. This
whole
thing—
my being in physical therapy—is
her
idea.
She did some things to me that I’m fairly certain would’ve pissed off
Amnesty International
. Every time I told her “No more!” she’d say “One more!” Then, when I learned that trick and started crying earlier, she switched it to “Two more!” It was like she had
ESP
or something.
She says I suffered pretty intense deep-muscle damage. Also, if I don’t do something now, I may have limited mobility for the rest of my life. She smiles too big and I swear to God if she pats me on the butt one more time and says “Thatta girl!” I’m gonna shoot her.
However, Jeff got to play after me. What a big sissy. All that moaning and yelping. I thought Army Rangers were absolute bad-asses. He made more noise than I did when I had Baby Snoe.
Tonight, we were given permission to open Jenifer’s bedroom window. The warm night breeze smelled like candy. It was so sweet and clean. I know Jenifer enjoyed it. She lay there with her eyes closed, just breathing deep through her nose.
I stay with her as much as I can, but Doctor Gene makes me leave when they clean her and change her bandages. Of course, everybody can hear her crying, so I don’t much want to be in there for that anyways. Man can that girl curse!
Thursday, June 4
Somebody fought their way into the hospital down below. I felt sorry for them. All that work, and we already got all the good stuff those many weeks back. Antoine, Jamaal, and Eric (who has been strangely distant since my recovery) went down to see what’s what. It doesn’t look like whoever it was made it out alive. There was a lot of fresh, tacky blood. It’s kinda sad.
Friday, June 5
Antoine made Jenifer’s day today. He brought in a box on a hand-trolley. Then he put up a curtain and wouldn’t let anybody see. An hour later, the strains of
Buffalo Soldier
by Bob Marley started up. The curtain was pulled aside to reveal a CD-Jukebox. It is full with five hundred discs. When I left for my daily physical terrorist appointment, she had it on Random, and was laying back with the closest thing to a smile on her face that I’ve seen in ages.
That got me thinking. I realized I haven’t seen her smile since
the incident
. She’s been sulky, broody, and downright bitchy. Now she’s lying there, fighting for her life.