Metzger had spent the past month surviving on instinct and avoiding people virtually altogether. Now he found himself stalking one of three remaining dangerous individuals along a dark residential street. Trying to stay along the sidewalk and out of any moonlight, he crept along without a sound, drawing a nervous breath because the man wasn’t visible, and he didn’t know where the armed individuals disappeared to on their individual routes.
Unable to watch his own back as he looked to his right for the man closest to Albert’s house, Metzger spied the man undoing the tall, wooden gate’s latch to let himself inside. A safe distance away, he was able to step atop a trash can and observe the man over the fence top.
In what he assumed was an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the residence, the porch looked reasonably unmodified except for a few staged items blocking the stairs to the front porch. A plastic trash tote, a trash bag that appeared full of aluminum cans, and a few toddler plastic push toys barricaded the way enough that an undead walker might stumble over them and create noise and provide some warning of nearby danger.
In this case the armed man eyed the items suspiciously as though thinking they were conveniently placed there by the living and not indiscriminately thrown away. Metzger crouched, staring at the man for what felt like an eternity as his heart thumped in his chest. He nervously prayed he wouldn’t need to act, and wasn’t certain of what he planned to do if the man started up the wooden stairs.
Don’t do it, he thought to himself, trying to psychically dissuade the man from carrying out an act that might end in someone’s death.
Stepping over the black trash bag, the man cautiously stepped on the first wooden stair, causing it to squeak. He looked down, as though making certain he didn’t trigger any kind of trap before lifting his leg toward the second step. Metzger prayed for intervention, and just before the man’s foot reached the second stair, a static-filled squawk came through the radio at his side, startling him enough that he fell backwards, barely catching the weight of his body and staggering upright instead of crashing against the littered ground.
Feeling certain his breathing could be heard around the city block after being equally shocked, Metzger sucked in a breath and held it while a transmission came across the man’s portable radio, less than twenty feet from his position.
“We found the assholes who took our shit,” the voice said. “Get back here and help round up the rest of them and our loot.”
Metzger didn’t know who the culprits were, or how many of these armed men camped in the greater Buffalo area, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be the one guilty of stealing from them. He waited and watched as all three men emerged from the shadows and returned to their truck, talking about putting a hurting on some motherfuckers when they got back to their camp. Metzger now knew Albert and Luke weren’t the guilty party, which left them in the clear for now. His heart sunk at the fact that the men had traveled to this area to find the thieves, which possibly put the two men and their adopted daughter in mortal danger if the group returned.
Tracing his path between the two houses back to the rear entrance, Metzger stepped over the two bodies, able to think more clearly about ending a man’s life in the name of self-defense. Certainly no murderer by nature, even in the current circumstances, he felt bad for using a zombie as a weapon. He wondered if the man’s buddies felt any remorse for leaving his body behind like discarded trash.
Within a few minutes Metzger found a pile of debris that helped him scale the tall fence along the backyard and return to the backdoor of the house. He decided to knock, hoping Albert knew the men had left the area and didn’t blast him with a shotgun from the other side. Being cautious, he stepped to the side of the door, waiting patiently a moment for the door to open or the scuffling noise of someone approaching it from inside. Waiting in silence, Metzger listened carefully but heard nothing as he debated whether to knock again or simply leave the premises with his life and most of his belongings.
He was just about to turn away when he heard the deadbolt sliding from the inside and several items being moved away from the door. When it opened he was surprised to find Luke on the other side with a rather sheepish look, as though admitting without words that he misjudged Metzger initially.
“Come in,” he said, waving his arm quickly toward the house’s interior.
Metzger hesitated, wondering if they had set some kind of trap for him just inside the door. Between the way the world operated now, and this man’s mistrust of him less than an hour prior, he couldn’t help but feel suspicious. Taking too much time to process information or reach a decision often proved deadly in a world where the undead ruled and the living scoured the earth for what precious few commodities remained for the taking.
Stepping inside, he looked around rather cautiously, finding no one except Luke standing beside the door. The man closed it rather quickly as Albert and Samantha finally made their presence felt by coming down the main stairway. Their footsteps sounded hurried, as though they were anxious to hear what Metzger had to report. Perhaps they hadn’t seen or heard a single thing that transpired just outside their house, but Metzger had a feeling they weren’t yet safe based on the way the group of men tracked a warm vehicle to their neighborhood.
“What happened?” Albert asked with a relieved look, openly excited about escaping the jaws of death so easily.
It required only a few minutes for Metzger to provide the group with his harrowing tale. He skimmed over the part where he used a zombie as a murder weapon with Samantha present, and refused to tell the trio how much trouble they might be in because the three remaining men suspected their friend wasn’t simply attacked by the undead. He did inform them that the armed men were contacted by others via portable radios, and only left so quickly because their missing goods were located.
“You need rest,” Albert said after a visual examination of his guest. “You’re spending the night.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“We aren’t sending you on your way in the dark. It’s too dangerous out there.”
Metzger didn’t sense any ulterior motive from any of his three hosts. They all appeared thankful he went outside to confront the intruders, even if he didn’t really contribute to the reason for their departure.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep after everything that transpired outdoors, coupled with the snare that knocked him from his motorcycle earlier. Adrenaline once kept him involuntarily awake for hours, but his body shut down quickly due to fatigue, injury, and the overwhelming guilt that accompanied him from basically taking his first human life.
It required only a few minutes lying in bed for him to decide that he wanted to take a chance on a full night’s rest. If his hosts meant him harm, his death would likely come swiftly and he would never know it. No matter where he normally crashed for a night, impending danger always lurked in the form of the undead, or worse, the living who wanted the space or supplies for themselves.
When he awoke, it wasn’t due to some strange noise or a nightmare, it was actually because his face grew warm from sunlight striking it. Squinting, he discovered the curtain covering most of the bedroom window didn’t cover one edge, and when the sun positioned itself just right the curtain let the morning light inside. He supposed technically the planet rotated, giving the appearance of the sun moving overhead, but Metzger wasn’t a science major and decided not to think too hard on the subject. Instead he rolled over and attempted to capture a few more minutes of sleep.
His attempt failed when the aroma of cooked bacon and eggs reached his nostrils from the distant kitchen. In a world of perishable food, Metzger considered anything fresh a delicacy, wondering how much longer such eatables were going to last. Most animals were being needlessly slaughtered by creatures that likely didn’t need to eat for any real sustenance, and unfortunately the undead outnumbered absolutely everything else on the planet.
At least in what little bit of the world Metzger had see
n, this particular theory held true.
He walked downstairs to find Albert cooking in the kitchen with Samantha seated on a barstool behind the island. Incredibly well-behaved, she barely said a word, though she wasn’t shy or intimidated by strangers. After years of teaching, he expected any kid who hadn’t reached puberty to be bouncing off the walls wanting to dash outside.
Being confined to a house felt like prison, but stepping outside meant a death sentence to those who weren’t prepared for what awaited them.
“Want some breakfast?” Albert asked as Metzger stretched his arms, surprisingly fulfilled by a full night’s slumber.
“Smells great.”
“Go take a shower and I’ll cook you something when you’re ready.”
“Shower?” Metzger questioned, immediately realizing he barely managed to contain his excitement over the prospect of a hot shower.
“God knows how long, but we still have hot water.”
Metzger nodded before returning upstairs to lock himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes until the hot water began to dwindle. Perhaps circumstances toyed with his senses, but he felt certain the shower was the most refreshing he’d ever taken. Feeling like a terrible houseguest, Metzger used shampoo, body wash, and even a fresh bar of soap to remove the dirt and grime from every crevice and pore along his body. He got dressed and decided to step outside the front door before eating breakfast, wondering if he was just putting off leaving a safe and secure place, or delaying what answers awaited him down the road.
Moans and groans from the undead wandering nearby immediately reached his ears from beyond the front gate, hurling him back to any reality the smells of breakfast and the comforts of hot water provided. He considered walking inside to grab one of his swords when a voice called down to him from above.
“Beautiful morning.”
Turning around, he found Luke sitting on the flat porch roof above him, smoking the last of a cigarette. Deciding not to be rude, Metzger climbed a nearby metal ladder that provided access to the roof, taking a seat next to the man a moment later.
“There aren’t many of these left in the world,” Luke said, taking a final drag from the cigarette before snuffing it out along the roof tiles. “They’re going to be a hotter commodity in this world than they ever were in prisons.”
Metzger chuckled.
“Might be a good time to quit.”
Both sat silently on the porch roof a moment, hearing the sounds of the undead and smelling the unpleasant stench that coated the urban world. Occasionally Metzger took roads less traveled during his journey north and escaped the odors, only to be slammed with them when he drew near cities or towns once again. Death provided its own nauseating scent, but urine and fecal release accompanied death, providing a toxic trio of stenches that lingered in the air.
Taking notice that Luke had completely clean shaven, Metzger considered doing the same, but it would simply grow back during his travels. A beard was easier to trim than to take down to stubble or skin, so he opted not to touch a single hair just yet.
Luke took off his glasses momentarily, cleaning them with his button-up shirt.
“I really don’t even need these,” he commented, placing them back above his nose. “They were more of a fashion statement before all of this, and no one really gives a shit anymore.”
“So you have twenty-twenty vision?”
“No, but I’d see well enough if I were to lose them.”
Both sat in awkward silence a moment as the undead sauntered by, just outside the fence on an otherwise, warm, sunny day.
“I want to apologize,” Luke finally said, still staring at the suburb before them.
“For what?”
“I don’t want to trust anyone, and I’m so afraid of losing Albert.”
“Losing him? To those?”
Metzger nodded toward the staggering undead that bumped into cars and fences without feeling any pain.
“No. I’m afraid someone better is going to come along and replace me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Metzger said confidently.
Luke looked at him with a level of uncertainty.
“I know you don’t feel built for this world,” Metzger said with a light shrug. “Truth be told, I don’t bring any skills to the table. I’m not an engineer, a soldier, or even a very good mechanic. Fuck, I’m just trying to survive long enough to find my brother and some of his military buddies.”
“This house is the last thing we have from the old world. It’s crushing us to think about leaving it behind.”
“Does that mean you are thinking about it?”
“We talk about it, but we don’t know where we’d go. These things are sure to freeze during the winter, aren’t they?”
Metzger shook his head, wishing he knew how undead anatomy responded to freezing temperatures.
“You have to leave here eventually,” he warned before even thinking about his words and putting them more tactfully. “It just isn’t safe with so many survivors around here. Last night was a close call, and I have a feeling those assholes will be back.”
Luke nervously fingered his chin momentarily. He seemed to understand Metzger’s advice was sound, but something about his situation held him back.
“Albert doesn’t want to leave. He thinks we can fortify this place and keep Samantha safe with us.”
“You can fortify it, but that draws attention to you. Hell, being on the road isn’t much better. I haven’t been able to trust anyone I’ve come across.”
“Until last night I felt the same way.”
Metzger wanted to help the trio since they took a major risk saving his life, but they weren’t willing to travel, and he wasn’t willing to stick around the Buffalo area with them, even if he received an official invitation. Before deciding anything long-term, he needed closure about his parents, and to see his military brother alive and well.
“We have several vehicles we’ve collected,” Luke said after a moment of silence between them. “There isn’t much else left to fill our days, so we scavenge what we can. You’re welcome to take one of the cars if you want, since you lost your mode of transportation.”
“It was never really mine,” Metzger admitted with a grin. “I can probably find another one, but the bikes just announce your presence to the world.”
“I think we have a hybrid that’ll be a lot quieter. You’re welcome to it.”
“I appreciate that.”
Luke laughed momentarily.
“It’s not like you can’t grab one of the millions of cars lining the roads out there, but we can save you a few minutes.”
“I just can’t believe I’m finally this close,” Metzger admitted.
“You’re in an unenviable position. After Albert and I came out, most of our families turned on us, so we didn’t have many people left to worry about. I tried to contact what few friends and cousins I still cared about, but when I got no answer I just assumed the worst.”
Metzger suspected about ninety percent of the population was roaming the world without life, which meant suddenly many people were the sole remainder of their bloodlines. His brother had a wife and son that neither of them had been able to reach since the mystery plague killed many of the living. Considering they were living near the military base in Norfolk, Virginia, where Metzger was heading after this adventure, that didn’t bode well for what he expected to find there.
“I’m not getting my hopes up,” he said with defeat in his voice. “It’s just closure for me and my brother knowing one way or the other.”
“Did you talk to them after everything went crazy?”
“I talked to Mom a few times, but things didn’t sound good. She was afraid to look outside the window and I heard Dad keep telling her to get back. We got disconnected the last time and that was the last I ever heard from either one of them.”
“That’s terrible,” Luke said, his eyes falling to the roof beneath them before he slowly glared at the
undead milling around the street just beyond the fence. “Damn whoever started all of this.”
Metzger went inside after a few minutes to accept some breakfast. In the kitchen he found Albert giving pointers to Samantha about how to fire a pistol. Standing at the threshold momentarily, he felt somewhat taken aback to see a child holding a firearm and pointing it straight ahead. Admittedly, her form looked good enough to take down a few of the undead if she didn’t hesitate from fright. Albert stood behind her, adjusting her stance and giving her some pointers as she aimed the pistol at what appeared to be a paper plate on the refrigerator.
“It’s okay,” Albert said with a nod as he glanced Metzger’s way. “It’s not loaded.”
“That’s a relief,” Metzger replied.
“Luke can’t stand that I teach her how to use a firearm, but the dead ones don’t discriminate, and Samantha needs to know how to defend herself.”
“It’s dangerous,” Luke chimed in, crossing through the kitchen to another room.
He didn’t even bother trying to tame his lisp this time as he had much of the time Metzger spent in their presence.
Samantha went to hand the gun back to Albert, aiming the barrel straight at him.
“What did I say about handing the gun to someone?” Albert asked, raising his voice to a slightly higher pitch as he went into teaching mode.
“Always treat it like it’s loaded,” Samantha answered quietly, still too shy to speak out loud in front of their guest.
She flipped the gun around, careful not to aim the barrel at herself as well, and handed it over to her caregiver. Metzger had to admit that Albert had taught her well, and he agreed that everyone in the new world needed to know how to use weapons. Samantha couldn’t count on adults to defend her forever, and kids were like sponges when it came to learning.
He sat at the kitchen island after Samantha ran off to play, watching Luke and Albert fuss over who did what chores, just like an old married couple. He felt thankful for human interaction, able to temporarily forget what smells and sights awaited him just outside the walls of the old house. Even as he ate breakfast and savored the taste of foods he once placed at the bottom of his fine dining list, he thought about the journey ahead. He hoped the two men before him would choose wisely when it came to deciding when to leave their home and where to go next.
The Undead Chronicles (Book 1): Home and Back Again Page 4
