Zomblog 05: Snoe's War Read Free Page A

to the people sitting on either side of her as well. Her eyes were dark little orbs that looked almost black as they glared out from the fleshy folds that squeezed them. Her nose was flat and broad. I only wondered for a second if maybe she had been pounded on by Dominique as well.
    “Listen, whoever you are, I just want to be left alone. I am sure that there are plenty of people in this room that you would be able to pick on and beat up with almost no resistance at all.” I felt a little tug inside for just offering up others to this person, but I was tired, my face hurt, and I really did want to be left alone.
    “Everybody else in this room already knows who is running things…and since I know all of their faces, that makes you a stranger. You aren’t from Warehouse—”
    “No, I’m from Sunset,” I snapped. “Big deal, what’s it to ya?”
    I guess I really had no idea what to expect. I was an outsider. Also, I am not all that big. For a bully, that makes me a primary target. That is why I was stunned when her expression changed. She went from scowling menace to stunned. Then…she took my hand.
    “I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “I hear they didn’t leave any survivors when they hit you guys. But why would you come here and give up? Why didn’t you just run?”
    “Because they took my mom and my friends,” I said.
    “And that is what they are using on you,” the girl said this as a statement of fact.
    That made me wonder what they were holding over her head. I looked around the room and realized that very few people were actually paying us any attention. Usually, when a bully makes a move like this, everybody would be watching. Either with a look of pity and commiseration…or one of relief that finally there was somebody new to take away some of their heat.
    “Listen…” she left that open as a bit of a question. She was waiting for me to say my name.
    I gave it a moment’s thought. The knowledge of my identity always has a strange effect on people. After all, my dad and mom wrote the two best sellers of a generation. Everybody knows Sam and Meredith…and Snoe.
    If I gave this girl my name, then I would most likely be treated different. I already had the whole “outsider” thing going on. Did I really need another reason to stand out and be different? However, the chances of my identity being kept a secret were next to nil. I had little doubt that Dominique would make sure that whoever she put in charge of training would know exactly who I am.
    “My name is Snoe Gainey.”
    The big gal looked at me, and if it was possible, her eyes squinted together even tighter to the point of being little more than slits. She gave me an up and down look and then she looked around the room as if she wanted to see who might be near enough to listen. Despite seeing that nobody was, she leaned in real close to me.
    “You aren’t tellin’ a fib now, are ya?”
    “To what purpose?” I asked back, not bothering to whisper. “You think that is something I would want to make up?”
    “Then you stick close to me, Snoe.” She stood up straight and put an arm around me as if we were suddenly best friends. “Some of these folks might start acting all crazy if you go makin’ that known. You need a nickname, if everybody calls you by it, then so will the drillers.”
    “Drillers?”
    “The folks that they got putting us through the paces.”
    “About that,” I said cautiously, “what sort of stuff can I expect?”
    “Most of it is close-in techniques for dealing with the biters. However, they also spend a lot of time teaching us how to detain and restrain…least, that’s what we call it. They call it crowd control. Ask me, I think they plan on hitting the tribes and tryin’ to bring those folks under their thumb.”
    I let that sink in and then asked my next question. “So, before you give me a nickname, maybe you should tell me yours so I can call you something besides ‘Hey You’.”
    The gal