Diary of the Silverthorne Militia, Part 2 (Patreon)

Friday, May 18, 2012

Somehow I survived the last day, and I can thank a canteen and Tonya for my miserable life. Shortly after I was kicked out of the Silverthornes camp and robbed of all my gear, I wandered into the forest to find shelter. With nothing but the clothes on my back and a canteen half filled with water, I trekked for maybe a half an hour before I found an abandoned campsite. An old car, maybe a Saturn, stood against a tree with the driver’s door open and the trunk lid up. There wasn’t uneaten sandwich on the floor in one of those plastic lunch baggies — it tasted like ham and pimento. Pretty terrible but food is food. For the rest of the day I gathered wood, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when surviving out in the forest. I tried to start a fire but rubbing two sticks together is harder than it sounds. It got a bit nippy at night, and the air was much cooler. It wasn’t long before I was shivering so I slept in the trunk with the lid down.

I woke up early, too early. I left the campsite and started down the path to where I thought I saw a stream. I was almost out of water and hoped that I could make a fire and boil some from the stream. That’s when I heard the sounds of infected. They came at me as I crossed a narrow area at the stream and chased me all the way back to the road where I was dumped from the Silverthorne truck. My legs ached, and I could barely breathe. They would never run out of steam, so I tried to find a place to hide. As I searched for cover, I tripped over a rock and rolled down an embankment. My ankle twisted, and when I tried to stand, I fell on my back. The growls of the zombies grew closer, and though I was not resigned to death, I figured my time was up.

She ran from out of the woods like a warrior, a gorgeous bronze gladiator wielding a machete. A bandanna held back her dark curls, and she seemed to float over the ground, a goddess come to save me. When the first infected ran over the embankment, she jammed her blade between his eyes. She kicked his chest, yanked out her weapon, and ran up the slope. She twirled the machete in a circle and slashed it in the air. Though I couldn’t see the fight, I heard her battle cries and the sounds of her blade chopping through body parts, kind of like when a butcher chops meat.

One must have gone around her, and I saw the hideous creature staggering at me. He was closer to life than undeath, and he was comically horrific. One side of his face had no signs of infection while the other had its skin peeled off to reveal a mask of rotting muscle. A half smile faded to one end of his jaw. He had a half moon of hair, and all of it stuck straight up giving him the look of a peacock at full bloom. He dove on top of me. I lifted my canteen like a shield, and his teeth bit the edge. I kept the canteen between us, pushing it in his mouth. His hands pulled at my clothing and dug into my skin. I screamed and felt my bladder release. I was a goner.

The edge of a metal blade came through the front of his head, which discharged a stream of blood onto my stomach. I shrugged him off of me and shouted for help.

“Stop yelling,” she said and cleaned her off her machete with a rag.

“Thank you,” I said and sat up. I turned my foot in a circle over and over again. It didn’t hurt anymore, and so I got up.

She stood on the embankment with one foot higher than the other, like a pirate at the helm of her ship. I fell in love in that moment. She had deep olive skin and a perfectly athletic body. Her bulging calves were like succulent pork roasts, and I could see ridges of muscles in her abdomen like baby back ribs. Did I mention I was starving?

“Stop staring,” she said and shook her head.

I saw the start of a smile, thankfully and I was hoping my leering at her did not make her so uncomfortable that she would leave me there. “I’m sorry. I’m just in shock right now and not thinking straight. You saved my life, and you’re so beautiful. I don’t know how to repay you. By the way, I’m Arthur.”

She shrugged and stood up higher on the embankment with her back to me. “I’m Tonya. You don’t have to repay me. My father raised me to help others, but now you have to shut up. A truck is coming, and the soldiers inside already saw me.”

Sure enough, I heard the rumble of a motor and the sounds of a heavy vehicle on the uneven road. I stood and climbed to the edge with her, huffing and puffing from the sudden exertion. I had seen this type of truck before in a parade at Colorado Springs. It was much larger than a Jeep and heavily armored and mounted with cameras and a variety of weapons. A few other vehicles rode behind it, including a luxury SUV and several other types of military trucks and cars. The lead car passed us by, and the SUV stopped.

“You should do the talking. I know men like this,” Tonya said and tossed her machete behind the embankment.

A window rolled down, and a man with silver hair and a pointed silver beard sat in the back passenger seat. He leaned his head out and looked at the dead scattered across the road. “The two of you killed all of these yourself?”

I looked at Tonya who motioned for me to answer. Turning back to the man, I said, “Yes, but to be honest it wasn’t me. She killed all of them. I twisted my ankle.”

He looked down at my feet. “You look fine now. Where are you two from?”

“I’m from Westville. My name is Arthur. She’s Tonya, but I don’t know where she’s from. We just met.”

He nodded and stared at us both, eyeing us like he was buying pieces of artwork or a new car. “Does she speak or do you speak for her?”

She looked at me and shrugged.

“She doesn’t say much. Are you the leader of this group, sir?”

He lifted a white handkerchief to his head and patted it dry. “Mr. Thomas, turn up the air conditioner please.”

“Yes Mr. Sullivan,” a voice called from the front of the SUV. I felt a blast of cold air through the window.

He turned towards me and licked his lips. “What did you do before the outbreak, Arthur?”

“I worked at KLZR radio station. Assistant manager.”

He nodded. “And what types of duties did you perform at this radio station?”

“Let me see…hired new staff, conducted interviews, managed the on-air talent, payroll, booked guests, kept the inventory, set up equipment rooms, really a little bit of everything.”

He looked over at Tonya and stared at her eye to eye. “And you?”

“Stunt woman.”

Mr. Sullivan stroked his beard. It was like I was looking at an image of the devil. “Mr. Thomas, call back to the truck and tell them to make room for Arthur and Tonya.” He rolled up the window.

A man leaned out from a canvas covered truck two vehicles back and waved at me and Tonya. We walked over and climbed in the back. We sat on opposing benches, and the caravan started up again. A dozen other survivors sat with us, most of them armed with a mix of weapons. No one spoke on the whole ride, and that was fine for me. My clothes were wet from rolling around in the dirt and from peeing on myself, so the whole ride was uncomfortable. I tried my hardest not to squirm.

When the truck stopped, the back canvas flap opened, and I squinted from the sudden sunlight. I was the first outside the vehicle, and I felt a lump in my throat. I was back at the FEMA camp. The barbed wire emblem of the Silverthorne Militia hung on a nearby post. I wanted to run but had nowhere to go.

A tall man with an officer’s uniform walked over to me and motioned toward one of the main tents. I hurried inside. Maps of the Colorado area were pinned on the walls and one was laid out on the table with markers pinned to the surface in various locations. From behind, Mr. Sullivan walked in with a few other men and Keith, one of the leaders who I had only met once. He was a statue of muscles and never smiled nor showed emotion. He wore a hat with the logo of the Marines and pulled out a chair for Mr. Sullivan.

“I’d like a report from each unit leader on recruitment within the hour,” he said and looked at me. “This is Arthur. Set him up in one of the private tents near my quarters. He’s going to be my administrative assistant.”

The tent flap opened, and I gasped. A group walked in, and the last one was Benton.

“Sorry we’re late, boss, but we had to check our gear after that last run.” Benton did a double take and spotted me. “Oh hell no, I kicked your mealy ass out of here.” He marched at me and grabbed my shirt. My hands shot up to protect my face.

“Excuse me, Benton, take your hands off of him,” Mr. Sullivan said in a raised voice.

Benton let me go and backed away with a look of surprise. “I kicked him out yesterday. Talentless sack of shit. Just a leech living off the rest of us.”

Mr. Sullivan looked up at Keith. “This conversation is a waste of my time.”

“Why don’t you all head out. I’ll catch up with you in a few,” Keith said to Benton.

Benton nodded and backed toward the front of the tent. He and the others made their way outside. As he turned to close the tent, Benton turns to Mr. Sullivan. “Sorry, sir. Sorry about that.”

Mr. Sullivan sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I do not like that man. I don’t understand what you see in him.”

Keith put his hands on his hips and looped his thumbs through his belt straps. “He’s alright. Good in a firefight. He usually listens to orders.”

“I don’t want him around me anymore.” Mr. Sullivan rose. “I’m going to my room now. See to it that Tonya gets soldier gear and put her in a female barracks. Have Arthur bring in my dinner.”

Mr. Sullivan walked past me without even a side glance, and Keith ushered me out of the leader’s tent. It looked like I was back with the Silverthornes at least for now.