After six weeks at sea, the ship anchored at Perth. The officers and crew rowed ashore to inform the magistrate what had happened. Apparently, no one believed the stories of these sailors. A contingent of regular troops were sent for, if for no other reason than to escort the prisoners off.RMS Rona remained at anchor for five days, waiting for these troops to arrive. On the sixth day, a storm broke the ship’s anchor chain, carried it several miles up the coastline, and smashed it against a reef. Townspeople, and the ship’s former crew, found no evidence of the undead. All that remained were human bones and tracks leading inland. The story of theRona was common among sailors in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Admiralty records list the ship as lost at sea.
1882 A.D., PIEDMONT, OREGON
Evidence of the attack comes from a relief party, sent to investigate the small silver-mining town after two months of isolation. This group found Piedmont in shambles. Many houses had been burned. Those still standing were riddled with bullet holes. Strangely, these holes showed that all shots had been fired from inside the houses, as if the battles had all taken place within their walls. Even more shocking was the discovery of twenty-seven mangled and half-eaten skeletons. An early theory regarding cannibalism was discarded when the town’s warehouses were found to contain enough food supplies for an entire winter. When investigating the mine itself, the relief party made its final and most terrifying discovery. The entry shaft had been blasted shut from the inside. Fifty-eight men, women, and children were found, all dead from starvation. The rescuers determined that enough food to last several weeks had been stored and eaten, suggesting that these people had been entombed for much longer than that. Once a thorough count of all corpses, mangled and starved, had been made, at least thirty-two townsfolk could not be accounted for.
The most widely accepted theory is that, for some reason, a ghoul or group of ghouls emerged from the wilderness and attacked Piedmont. After a short, violent battle, the survivors carried what food they could to the mine. After sealing themselves in, these people presumably waited for a rescue that never came. It is suspected that, before the decision was made to retreat to the mine, one or more survivors attempted to trek through the wilderness to the closest outpost for help. Since no record of this exists and no bodies have ever been found, it is logical to assume that these proposed messengers either perished in the wild or were consumed by the undead. If zombies did exist, their remains have never been recovered. No official cover-up followed the Piedmont incident. Rumors ranged from plague, to avalanche, to infighting, to attacks by “wild Indians” (no Native Americans lived in or anywhere near Piedmont). The mine itself was never reopened. The Patterson Mining Company (owner of the mine and the town) paid compensation of $20 to each relative of the residents of Piedmont in exchange for their silence. Evidence of this transaction appeared in the company’s accounting logs. These were discovered when the corporation declared bankruptcy in 1931. No subsequent investigation followed.
1888 A.D., HAYWARD, WASHINGTON
This passage describes the appearance of North America’s first professional zombie hunter. The incident began when a fur trapper named Gabriel Allens stumbled into town with a deep gash on his arm. “Allens spoke of a soul who wandered like a man possessed, his skin as gray as stone, his eyes fixed in a lifeless stare. When Allens approached the wretch, he let out a hideous moan and bit the trapper on his right forearm.” This passage comes from the journal of Jonathan Wilkes, the town doctor who treated Allens after his attack. Little is known about how the infestation spread from this first victim to the other members of the town. Fragments of data suggest the next victim was Dr. Wilkes, followed by three men who attempted to restrain him. Six days after the initial attack, Hayward was a town under siege. Many hid themselves in private homes or the town church while the zombies relentlessly attacked their barricades. Although firearms were plentiful, no one recognized the need for a head shot. Food, water, and ammunition were rapidly consumed. No one expected to hold longer than another six days.
At dawn on the seventh day, a Lakota man named Elija Black arrived. On horseback, with a U.S. Army cavalry saber, he decapitated twelve ghouls within the first twenty minutes. Black then used a charred stick to draw a circle around the town’s water tower before climbing to the top. Between yells, an old army bugle, and his tethered horse for bait, he managed to attract every walking dead in town toward his position. Each one that entered the circle received a head shot from his Winchester repeater. In this careful, disciplined manner, Black eliminated the entire horde, fifty-nine zombies, in six hours. By the time the survivors realized what had happened, their savior was gone. Later accounts have pieced together the background of Elija Black. As a fifteen-year-old boy, he and his grandfather had been hunting when they came upon the Knudhansen Party massacre. At least one member had been infected earlier and, once turned, had attacked the rest of the group. Black and his grandfather destroyed the other zombies with tomahawk strikes to the head, decapitation, and fire. One of the “survivors,” a thirty-year-old woman, explained how the infestation spread and how over half of the now-reanimated party had wandered into the wilderness. She then confessed that her wounds and those of the others were an incurable curse. Unanimously, they begged for death.
After this mass mercy killing, the old Lakota revealed to his grandson that he had hidden a bite wound suffered during the battle. Elija Black’s last kill of the day would be his own grandfather. From then on, he devoted his life to hunting down the remaining zombies of the Knudhansen Party. With each encounter, he grew in knowledge and experience. Although never reaching Piedmont, he had dispatched nine of the town’s zombies that had wandered into the wilderness. By the time of Hayward, Black had become, in all probability, the world’s leading field scholar, tracker, and executioner of the undead. Little is known of the remainder of his life or how it eventually ended. In 1939, his biography was published both in book form and a series of articles that appeared in English newspapers. As neither version has survived, it is impossible to know exactly how many battles Black fought. A dedicated search is under way to track down lost copies of his book.
1893 A.D., FORT LOUIS PHILIPPE, FRENCH NORTH AFRICA
The diary of a junior officer in the French Foreign Legion relates one of the most serious outbreaks in history:
Three hours after dawn he came, a lone Arab on foot, on the brink of death from sun and thirst. . . . After a day’s rest, with treatment and water, he related the story of a plague which turned its victims into cannibalistic horrors. . . . Before our expedition to the village could be mounted, lookouts on the south wall spotted what appeared to be a herd of animals on the horizon. . . . Through my glasses, I could see they were not beasts but men, their flesh absent of color, their clothes worn and tattered. As the wind shifted, it brought to us, first a withering groan, then not long afterward, the stench of human decay. . . . We guessed these poor wretches to be on the heels of our survivor. How they managed to traverse such a distance without food nor water, we could not say. . . . Calls and warnings produced no response. . . . Bursts from our cannon did nothing to scatter them. . . . Long-range rifle shots seemed to have no effect! . . . Corporal Strom was immediately dispatched on horseback to Bir-El-Ksaib while we shut the gates and prepared for an attack.