Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 10): The Last Resort [Adrian's March, Part 2]

by Philbrook, Chris

  “Motherfucker I ended the apocalypse. What makes you think I can’t end you?”

  I dropped a microphone right around then, and I think he did too, because he didn’t say anything back. In my ear, over the special operations comms, I heard Lancaster.

  “Adrian, they are not in contact with any actual Federal forces. I know they said they were, but they aren’t. I would know, because there are damn few of them left. Put him in his place.”

  So I did. “And don’t even tell me you’re a good guy here. You’re not in charge of shit beyond that fucking river you’re hiding behind. The Feds you claim to be coordinating with? Not even a real story, and I know people who are connected. You’re blustering, and you’re bullshitting, and now it’s time to eat your shit sandwich and lick your wounds you unsanitary fuck.”

  “You’ll stand down? Stop shooting at my people? Leave town and never come back?”

  “We’ll be watching you, Mizaki. Halfway. Every way you could come. If you want to talk to us, you send Thorpe and only Thorpe. And rest assured, if we see you doing anything we don’t like… we’ll be back here with a hundred more shooters, and we’ll kill everyone we see moving. I’ll burn this place down on top of you.”

  “Got a burning desire to make more orphans don’t you?” he jabbed.

  “At least I’ll take care of the kids after. Give them food, water, clothes and an education. What the fuck was your plan, rolling in with grenade launchers and machine guns to a fucking school? Look around, you see any kids hurt tonight?” I gave him a second. “I didn’t think so. I’m done talking to you. Make your decision. And you can either be a good fucking example of how it’s done right, or a horrible fucking warning to every other cocksucker out there.”

  We sat in the woods until dawn, watching them through our scopes, and not one person moved behind their wall. I guess Mizaki made his decision.

  I gotta sleep. Lots to talk about. Lancaster mostly. He made us a pretty interesting offer that I am… frightened by.

  Michelle’s pretty happy with how it ended. It could’ve dragged out, and been far worse, but it might not be. Assuming of course that ballscratching ass-eater does what he needs to do to keep a lid on this.

  Crashing hard.

  Before I go… I’m scared to sleep. The last few hours of sleep I’ve stolen I’ve been alone in. Just me, alone. But now I’m afraid I’ll dream of the friends I just lost. After all right now, once more… the dead are all we can dream of. At least it’s all I can dream of.

  Otis is happy to see me, though he wouldn’t stop rubbing up on Michelle. I think he senses her anxiety over it all, and just wants to comfort her.

  When I wake up, we burn the bodies of our friends, pick up the rubbish left from war, and try to figure out what comes next.

  -Adrian

  June 7th

  I feel so much better. A few meals and a decent night’s rest works wonders on the psyche. My dreams were still empty of others, and for that blessing, I’m thankful.

  I stole a few minutes here to write about some shit. I need to get back outside and get to work helping everyone get Bastion cleaned up. Yesterday and for what seems like forever we burned and buried our dead. I say buried, because we held a service, and buried what remained of Ollie deep beneath the grounds he loved here so much. Melissa felt it was important that he be returned to the land.

  Martin (who took a round to the leg during the assault) built a simple casket for the man that fed us for so long, and every single person who could make it to the service did.

  We buried him six feet to the side of where Gilbert is. Fitting for him to be there. It’s where we bury our heroes now, it appears. Maybe one day I’ll figure out how to be a good enough man to earn my rest in that yard. Maybe they deserve cleaner earth to lie in, too. God, I miss my friends.

  I need a break from this, it’s hard to type with eyes filled with tears, but I can’t. I need to finish and get back.

  I need to hug Michelle, and Abby, and Hal, and Gavin, and Kevin, and Caleb, and Sophie, and little Adam.

  Lancaster.

  I need to write about him.

  He is a… freelance operative that is in connection with several of the groups that are trying to reassemble the United States, or something that resembles it. A very, very fractured United States. He’s in contact with a few of the bunkers in the Virginia/West Virginia/Maryland area, and he’s done a lot to unify the survivors in them. A few senators, cabinet members, high ranking military officers, etc. I guess the President and Vice President are history, or at least so far off the grid from his people, they might as well be dead.

  Anyway, these people are doing a pretty good job of getting things down that way back in order, and they’ve managed to rebuild some infrastructure. A few power plants are back up and running, some water treatment facilities are doing their job again, roads are being cleared, and peace and security are actually working in a few spots. I’m not going to say they’re the future, or that the US will return to its former glory… But it’s a start.

  Furthermore, the groups he’s been working with knew about Michelle, Kevin and I. Like, in detail. Just like the others who came, the pilgrims in the night, many of them had dreams, and knew, or at least had a good idea of who we were, and what we’ve done. Lancaster (who knew Kevin through his time at the State Department) volunteered to make the trip up to vet the three of us, and our little slice of blown to shit heaven. They don’t have an army yet, (they have managed to secure a bunch of naval and air assets though) which would’ve been nice to bring to the NVC, but I’ll take what I can get.

  So why vet us? The Trinity did what it needed to do here, we’re just regular, ordinary people now. We have to be. I can’t handle the idea of still being a part of that.

  As it turns out, the refugees from Europe and other places are landing everywhere. A few planes have made the flight here, and more than a few boats just like the one that brought our little crew of strangers in, too. Thousands of refugees. Tens of thousands of people who have brought the… plague of undeath back with them. And you see, the people returning here know it’s hell on earth back there. Millions of undead. But what’s crazy, is we can’t talk to them. HAM radio, cell networks, landlines, nothing. The parts of the world still overrun by the dead are sealed off electronically, spiritually, however. In order to see what’s going on there, we have to go there.

  And the shit the Brits brought with them… it’s taking root again. It’s faster. More aggressive. Down along the east coast, and over in California (to a lesser degree) foreigners are coming because they’ve heard the Americas are safe, and they’re bringing the very thing with them they’re trying to flee. Random undead roam the streets again, and settlements that thought they were safe are succumbing to sickness and injuries. One dead body in the middle of the night turns into a hundred zombies. And I’ve already talked about how our dreams are fucked up again.

  Lancaster came to vet us, because they want the three of us to go to Europe. They think because we were able to end the bullshit here, we’ll be able to end the bullshit there. Michelle, Kevin and I listened to his impassioned, gruff appeal, and asked a hundred questions, and told him hours of shit that he didn’t know about. In the end, everyone left the table here in Hall E far more informed about the world. Oh, and he says my little brother William is alive, and his ship is in touch with his group. Crazy happy to hear that, if it’s true. Caleb and Becca both busted out crying when they heard that news.

  Michelle thought the idea of heading to Europe was the best idea. If we were the Trinity once, held with the responsibility of the fate of a third of the world, then really, how could we possibly still be the people chosen if we CHOSE to ignore the plight of the rest of the world? Wouldn’t we just, in fact, be allowing others to suffer so we could survive more easily? Wasn’t that kind of the point of it all? Be a better society, and culture, and to help others as much as we can? Forgive, forget, move on, yada-yada?

 
Shit. I need to remember that myself.

  Kevin said no. He had enough fighting, but if I wanted to go, he’d think about it.

  Then they looked at me.

  I said I couldn’t. Not right then, not yet. Bastion is a wreck. Dozens of dead and injured, and more bruised souls than a world deserves to suffer. It’s hell here right now, and I can’t leave these people. I told Lancaster that if he could arrange for help to come to Bastion, I’d consider it more strongly, but right now, it was a no. I’d like to see my brother, though.

  Crazy right? Go over there and do it all again? Hell no. There’s no way I’m leaving here. No way I’m walking away from the few friends and family I have left. I just can’t.

  I stopped crying, I’m good. I need to get back at it. We’re trying to get Hall A and the medical clinic cleaned out and demolished today. We’re hoping to save the foundations so we can build on them again. Maybe even build bigger. Another story for more people.

  Talk to you soon, maybe. I need to focus on working, not writing. I’m not the Scribe anymore, and I’m certainly not the Soul. I’ve got shit to do.

  -Adrian

  Just Me

  The early June afternoon warmed his soul as Adrian departed the blasted dorm he called home. The sun was warm, the breeze moved with a gentle caress that flicked the growing green leaves, and if he didn’t think about what happened just a few days before, or look over at the lazy columns of smoke that grew up from the charred remains of his friends and fellow citizens, the world was perfect.

  On all sides, activity bubbled. The sounds of power tools buzzed away as wood was cut, holes were drilled, and concrete mixed. He watched as children picked up sharp chunks of debris at the base of buildings that were shot through with massive weapons of war, and he watched how they laughed and looked away from the scars the adults left on their home. He didn’t recognize some of the kids. New faces that came in over the spring had yet to become familiar. Some had already come and gone, all in the name of standing near the Trinity.

  He looked ahead to the tattered, scorched skeleton of ALPA’s Hall A. The side of the dorm facing the river had been obliterated by incoming enemy fire. The NVC’s 40mm grenade barrage had eaten away at the siding, framing and interior walls until the interior lay exposed. The floors were blown up and out, and the roof hung sideways, crushing down the side of the dwelling like the sagging, muted face of a stroke victim.

  On the campus side of the ruined home a dozen men and women worked diligently to clean up the wreckage. Adrian’s eyes plucked Michelle’s dirty but golden hair from the crowd, and he made his way to her, smiling and thanking everyone as he wound his way between them. They looked to him with appreciation and near-reverence. He tried to ignore it.

  “Hey babe. Welcome back. How was your break? Did you eat something?” Michelle asked him.

  “Good. I ate a can of something that might’ve been a vegetable once. I got some writing done too,” Adrian said and kissed her on the cheek. The small gesture of love was one of the few they’d exchanged in recent memory. The two had grown distant as the outer strife pushed on them. The pushing had abated.

  “I’m proud. That you’re writing again, that is. I think you do better with stress when you’re venting it like that. You’re different. I like it. You’re also excited to hear about your brother.” She smiled.

  “I am. I’m glad William is well. And uh, are you saying you didn’t like me as much when I wasn’t writing?” Adrian joked, stepping in behind her and wrapping his big arms around her midsection. He felt great love for her; they had survived the Northern Valley Cooperative, and their people—their way of life—didn’t break in the process. She leaned into his warmth, and others watched.

  “Shush. There are some heavy things here. We were waiting for you to lift them, what with you being so big and all.”

  “You know, I’m more than just a big guy. I can think heavy things sometimes, too. I remember this one time, I thought about stuff… It was amazing,” Adrian kissed her head and let her go. She held a moment longer, and he walked towards the dorm where his friend Kevin stood beside his older brother Caleb, and the white haired man named Lancaster.

  “Ugly,” Kevin greeted Adrian.

  “Stupid,” Adrian responded to him. “How are we doing? I see you guys got that roof part ripped off. I assume you got the back hoe going then.”

  “Yeah,” Caleb responded. I talked to Blake and he walked me through it. I mean, I wouldn’t want to run the thing around a house that we didn’t want destroyed, but I think we’re all set to tear this place down.”

  “Awesome. Thank you.”

  “What’s the plan after this?” Kevin asked. “If you think we can spare the manpower, I’d like to rotate into the patrols on the interstate.”

  “You think they’re going to come at us?” Adrian asked his best friend. “Already?”

  “I would if it were up to me.”

  “Kevin’s right,” a dirty-faced Lancaster said. “If they can solve the bridge and get their remaining vehicles down here… I’d sit a few thousand meters back and shell your settlements with their grenade launchers. If they have an 81mm mortar, or shit, just a 61mm, they could stick and move on you for a whole day before you could get back at them. It’d be devastating.”

  “I hate you people,” Adrian said, kicking a busted piece of siding on the ground. “I really thought I scared the shit out of Mizaki with my threats. Am I just not that scary? I’ll never sleep with such paranoid people around me.”

  “You know I’m right,” Kevin said. “And Lancaster is too. We’re only still here because we actually scared them away for a few minutes, or because they’re taking the time to rally for a second massive assault. Something like he said, something long range. You know, we need to talk to Rodriguez and see if he knows about mortars, or anything like artillery. And we need to get his wife, and the rest of the junkyard people here somehow.”

  “Hey Michelle,” Adrian called to the woman who led them, and she left the side of Sylvia who sprinted off to be helpful somewhere else. Adrian smiled at the girl’s back. She’d come so far since they found her, stealing from their stores and feral as a barn cat.

  “Yeah?” Michelle asked.

  “Kevin and Lancaster here both think we should be patrolling heavier north. In case the dickfaces decide to retaliate. I know we need to dedicate manpower here for the cleanup, but they’re right. Are you okay with freeing up… like five or six people to head out that way? Kevin, is that enough?”

  He thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, I think about six people would work. Two vehicles in tandem. Maybe make a showing if we see any of their people. Any chance your contacts down south can help?” Kevin asked Lancaster.

  He clucked his tongue. “I’m working on it. Larry and Gina headed south on two of our horses this morning to try and get within radio range. They’re going to ask for a rededication of assets to here. But… who knows. They’ve got their own fires to fight and resources are slim.”

  Adrian sighed. “We need to meet up with Captain Maria. She’s good people, and I think we could get some support from her if she finds out the NVC got their nose bloodied by us. Anyone remember when we were supposed to meet with her again?”

  “Take the people,” Michelle said. “If they try and attack us again, there will have been no point in cleaning this all up anyway. I’ll talk to Rodriguez and see if he’s willing to share information about those guns you just talked about. I think he will. As far as Maria goes… I don’t remember. We can send a missive soon. Hey, do we think it might be a good idea to relocate? Temporarily? Find a different place to move the whole group for a few weeks? Just until we’re sure this’ll pass over?”

  “That’s a lot of work,” Adrian said after exhaling some unsure feelings. “I think it sends the wrong message too. That we went to war, lost a lot of people, arguably won, and then we still have to leave like refugees. These people are hurt, but they’re proud. We fought the
big guy, and sent him away with a fat lip. We can’t skulk around now. Stand proud, act like winners, and be ready for another hit.”

  “What do you two think?” she asked Lancaster and Kevin.

  “I think Abby needs to churn out a few of her newsletters,” Kevin said. “We need good news right now alongside a dose of reality. She’s found her voice, if we can get her to write again.”

  “Could be helpful,” Lancaster added.

  “I’ll talk to her. It might be tough with Mike and Patty gone. She’s been… off. Angry,” Michelle said.

  “Angry is not ‘off’ for Abby,” Adrian quipped.

  “Ha, funny. But thank you for the ideas. Kevin do what you gotta do, I trust your gut. It has served us well in the past. Adrian could you-“

  A distant boom sounded, and a split second later a snap broke the air between the chatting men and woman.

  “SHOOTER!” Adrian barked and dove for the ground. Everyone around went down to the dirt around him. The vicious buzz of the bullet cutting through the air told him the projectile had been aimed for the group that stood together. His primitive brain told him the shot came from across the river, beyond the bridge, through the ruined gate and past the cleared forest that gave no cover to approaching enemies. He drew his pistol and kept low behind the ruins of the dorm.

  “I’m okay,” Kevin said as he drew his Glock. “Everyone else, sound off. Let’s get some people to the top of the berm for suppressing fire.”

  “I’m fine,” Adrian said as kept low and looked from person to person for wounds or dead bodies.

  “I’m good,” Lancaster said as he palmed his small Beretta.

  Several other voices called out. Frightened, they called out that they were safe and sound. One voice was absent. Adrian spun on his stomach and searched for Michelle. She lay on her back, only a few feet away, clutching at a bright red stain spreading out beneath the palms of her hand. The center of the blood emanated from just below her ribs.