An account of Arrow Pass, West-side of Ravenbeak Mountains, from Mrs. Rosie Hilredge.
Not all the bad places have towering ruins; some have their bones buried like man’s beneath the earth. To this day, just beyond the mountains, there is a place that acts like it is alive, thief and murderer. People would wake up in camp with their clothes strewn about, or bruises on their limbs, or their horses and cattle driven off, the men on guard seeing none of this. It just happens when they aren’t looking, though they are always looking.
On the trail back then, at these places, I lay awake all night, expecting every minute we would all be killed or enfevered. But none of us woke with mysterious wound, and none of us woke with a fever.
To this day, there are people killed at that place every year.
We were lucky to escape with a few missing folk. Children. Lucky is the wrong word, but have you ever had to mercify a young one? No? Then maybe lucky is the right word given what could have happened.
They were gone; they weren’t undead.
As soon as we left this misbegotten place, as soon as we breathed our sigh of relief, we smelled them. The undead were coming from every direction; we just couldn’t see them until we were off that spot. They were so near they were reaching for the oxen and horses, and poor Lanette, my poor Lanie, fell off the wagon. She kept from going under those wheels, but not her pursuer. We rolled over him, but it didn’t stop him none. He . . . poor Lanie was stunned . . . we weren’t fast . . . my Lanie, my sweet Lanie.
We made sure to bury my youngest far away from that spot. We were foolish to try that pass, but we didn’t know any better in those days, didn’t believe, and it was easier going.
Now I do. The people who lived in this land before we came, before the woses came, died for a reason, and we are better for it. Because their evil ways live on in the earth and infects everyone who comes along.
We should destroy the ruins, every last trace of them, every last trace. Only then will the dead settle in their graves. Only then.
Author Note: This is part of Jodi Ralston’s Zombie West world. This series is not set in our world but is inspired by 1800s-early 1900s America, because she loves that time period. It has zombies because everything is better with zombies.
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