The Undead Chronicles (Book 1): Home and Back Again

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

“They’re going to know where we’re going,” Albert stated the obvious.

  “We’re ahead of them,” Metzger said, “and unless they’re on dirt bikes they aren’t going to cut us off.”

  He detected tension from the couple, as though they hadn’t experienced much peril outside of the undead staggering around their neighborhood. Metzger tried to put aside his mentoring ways when his job as a teacher was ripped away by a changed world, but if people were going to travel with him, they needed to know how to survive. By no means an expert on living off the land, he knew how to deal with the undead, and how to avoid potential living threats as well.

  Even as his heartrate slowed to a normal pace, he sensed his two passengers weren’t entirely at ease.

  “You sure you two want to make this trip?” he asked after a minute or so. “This kind of thing isn’t entirely uncommon.”

  “We have to,” Albert said. “Our house isn’t safe, and we have Samantha to worry about.”

  “The school is safer for all of you.”

  “There are at least a few dozen personalities living under that roof now. How long before tempers flare? How long before the food runs out and we’re forced to go out for supply runs to places that have long since been picked over? It’s a roof and walls, Daniel, but that’s all it is.”

  Metzger couldn’t argue any of Albert’s points. For him, the secured school remained a painful reminder of where his parents lost their lives. With nothing else left for him in his old stomping grounds, he needed to move southeast to discover the next chapter of his life. Having company he could rely on sounded good, but he also couldn’t afford to be slowed. For all he knew, the U.S.S. Ross had already reached the Navy base in Norfolk and his brother hadn’t been able to contact him.

  “I just don’t want either of you surprised at what you’ll see on the road,” Metzger said. “None of it comes easy. Shelter, food, weapons. Trust.”

  “Is that why you traveled alone?” Luke asked.

  “I traveled alone out of necessity at first. It just seemed easier jumping into a new vehicle, or dodging other survivors because I didn’t really have a reason to speak to anyone.”

  Avoiding a few vehicles, Metzger realized they were drawing closer to the school. He fully planned on driving through the front gate this time instead of leaving his car a mile or two down the road.

  “Truth be told, I expected to be reunited with my family, or at least some of it. Talking to them after everything went bad seemed too good to be true, especially now that I’ve seen what everyone else lost. When you’re on the road for that long you fall into a trap where you convince yourself it’s just easier to be alone.”

  “Why do you say it’s a trap now?” Albert asked, giving a knowledgeable, wise glance that indicated he already knew the answer.

  “Because I met some people who proved me wrong.”

  No one spoke again until they neared the open gate at the high school, met by a few familiar faces holding firearms.

  “When did you plan on leaving?” Albert inquired.

  “Possibly today.”

  “Possibly? I thought you were dead set on heading out.”

  “I was, but that was before we met up with those three assholes at your house. That’s twice they’ve been there, and I have some concerns they’re after something.”

  “Or someone,” Luke added.

  After the two armed men stepped aside, Metzger parked the Prius near the school, feeling a bit paranoid that the Wardens were going to seek revenge, possibly against the first available targets. Albert and Luke headed inside first to locate Samantha after Metzger assured them he wasn’t going to leave without them.

  After entering the school he asked the first person he found about Molly’s location, discovering she was helping convert some of the rooms on the second level into sleeping quarters. It seemed things were moving along expeditiously at the school, and Metzger knew he guessed correctly that certain people were going to accept power positions. He assumed none of Molly’s people acted with bad intentions, and reaching the level of evil exhibited by the Wardens felt a million miles away, but a select few with power was never a good thing.

  Considering the rough few days now behind him, he hadn’t given the situation much thought, but now he saw what Albert meant as he climbed a set of stairs to the second floor. With some of the windows uncovered, natural light now crept into the hallways, allowing people to see with less assistance from the few generator-powered and overhead lights. He heard clanking noises from the top of the stairwell, which led him to a rather large lab where seats and desks were being removed to make room for whatever bedding the new residents could find.

  Half a dozen people actively worked to clear the room, which made him hope she sincerely cared about everyone remaining in the school. She spotted him and walked over, giving him a quick hug that felt genuine, and most welcome at the moment.

  “Glad you made it back,” she said with a smile, as though he’d been gone for days instead of just over an hour.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, motioning his head toward the hallway.

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly, following him through the door.

  “The Wardens set a trap for us at the house,” he said without hesitation once they were alone in the hallway.

  “What?” Molly asked with a shocked expression, physically ushering Metzger further away from the door.

  Metzger briefly explained the circumstances of the blockade and their narrow escape from the neighborhood.

  “I wanted you to know in case they have a plan to attack this place,” he said. “There’s a possibility they’re still watching.”

  “They’re only three in number,” Molly said, sounding assured that her new group could thwart an attack from them.

  “That’s enough to hunt us when we leave today or tomorrow.”

  “You should stay another night,” Molly insisted, touching his forearm. “Give us time to sort this out and find them.”

  Metzger shook his head negatively.

  “We aren’t going to find them. Sending anyone out there wouldn’t be wise.”

  “I don’t want them lurking in the shadows, waiting to pick us off one by one,” Molly insisted. “They aren’t getting this place back, no matter what they try.”

  “Nor should they,” Metzger agreed.

  Feeling frustrated, he rubbed his forehead with his palm.

  “We didn’t get the second car because of the attack.”

  “There are extra vehicles here,” Molly offered. “Take whichever one you need. We’ll find more.”

  “Thank you. We should be out of your hair within the hour.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Molly assured him. “We’re going to be occupied the rest of the day converting this place from slave labor to housing.”

  With all of his items already loaded into the Prius, Metzger soon helped the others gather their belongings before choosing a minivan as their second vehicle. They needed something capable of carrying multiple people while providing at least moderate protection from the undead and living attackers. Holding an old comprehensive map of the country with details for each state, Metzger met everyone between the van and the Prius once the vehicles were loaded.

  Everyone walked inside one last time to say their goodbyes to the people they were about to leave behind. Metzger went in to thank Molly for her assistance, and he felt the two hadn’t exactly bonded, but did manage to reach an understanding. Each had experienced much different scenarios during their travels, but found common ground at the school, even if the experience proved both heart wrenching and liberating in the same day.

  Neither got sappy about their departure, but Metzger did give Molly a quick hug before walking out of the school with the others immediately behind him.

  “This is it,” he said when they drew near the vehicles. “Last chance to bail if you don’t want to drive to Virginia.”

  No one balked, but Vazquez bit his lip
as though fighting the urge to state something that weighed on his mind.

  “What is it, Juan?” Metzger asked, pressing the man for an elaboration before they departed.

  He didn’t want to be responsible for taking someone from the safety of the school if they weren’t committed to the migration.

  “I didn’t want to say anything earlier, because I didn’t want us to lose time in case I was wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?”

  “There are several small airports around Buffalo,” he said slowly. “Both public and private types that have commuter planes and even a few private jets.”

  Having no idea how to fly a plane, Metzger indeed considered the statement a complete waste of time. Attempting to fly a plane and dying in the process wasn’t a productive move in the least. The more he looked at Vazquez, however, the more he realized the man hadn’t yet reached his point.

  “Can you fly?”

  “I was only a few flights away from getting my private pilot’s license.”

  “He’s practically a pilot then,” Albert said assuredly. “I took a few lessons once, and if he was that close he may be the best pilot left in the world.”

  Vazquez shrugged uneasily.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “What can you fly?” Metzger inquired, finding the notion of reaching Virginia in hours instead of days or weeks rather inviting.

  “I flew small planes like a Cessna and a Piper for the most part. My instructor owned a Cessna 421, which held half a dozen people.”

  Metzger hesitated before asking his next question, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  “Where is that plane located?”

  “That’s the problem. It’s at a small public airport in Lancaster.”

  Metzger knew Lancaster was east of Buffalo by only a few miles, but they weren’t exactly in the heart of Buffalo at the moment. He believed Vazquez, but a lot of ifs crossed his mind, knowing exactly how many things might go wrong during the short, potentially dangerous drive to Lancaster.

  “If we get there, can you fly that plane with confidence?” he asked.

  “I can fly it, but I can’t guarantee it’s still there,” he said before hesitating momentarily. “But even if it’s gone, there are more than two dozen other aircraft stored there.”

  “How secure is it?” Luke asked, openly worried about undead roaming inside the fences.

  “It was fenced all the way around,” Vazquez answered. “It required a code to enter at the fence, which I do know.”

  Metzger weighed his options, knowing there wasn’t much choice now that flying to Virginia suddenly became a viable option. Every hour he spent traveling to the military base decreased the chances of him finding his brother in a world where discovering living people was already a challenge.

  “Anyone afraid of flying?” he asked aloud, seeing no one balk at the notion.

  “It sounds better than sifting through thousands of zombies on the ground,” Albert stated. “When can we leave?”

  “Right now,” Metzger said. “I’m keeping Juan with me and we’ll lead the rest of you there. Be careful, because we don’t know what’s going to be waiting for us.”

  Within a few minutes Metzger assumed driving duties in the Prius while Albert drove everyone else in the van. A wave of cautiously optimistic relief washed over Metzger, thinking how flying spared them from the open road, trying to syphon fuel, dealing with the undead, and avoiding hardcore groups of the living. He remembered most of the communities surrounding Buffalo, but gave Vazquez the satisfaction of navigating their way to the airport.

  “Even if this one is overrun, there are other local airports, aren’t there?” he inquired about five minutes into their trip.

  “Probably close to twenty that were within reasonable driving distance of Buffalo, back when you could travel with normal congested traffic.”

  “So what’s your backstory?” Metzger asked as he avoided a small herd of undead and a school bus turned awkwardly across two lanes of traffic.

  “Pardon?”

  “You know, your condensed autobiography.”

  “Oh,” Vazquez said, getting Metzger’s point the second time around. “I was born and raised in New Mexico. My parents worked on a ranch out there, trying to provide for me and my sister. She moved to Washington, D.C. a few years back to work for a state senator.”

  “So you’re hoping to find her?”

  Vazquez shrugged.

  “I want to, but the last we spoke they were trying to get her out of the city with some other people. It’s a wild goose chase at this point.”

  “But you’re still going to try,” Metzger said, already knowing the answer.

  “If all goes well, I’ll get you folks to Virginia and make my way up to Washington.”

  “It’s not entirely impossible they tried to move some of those people from Washington to the Navy base in Norfolk.”

  Vazquez shook his head negatively.

  “I think they had something even more secure in mind from the way Maria talked. I’m not even sure where to begin.”

  Vazquez pointed to the right.

  “Turn here.”

  Metzger made the turn, swerving around a few cars to discover the road ahead less cumbersome than most he’d traveled recently.

  “So what brought you to Buffalo?” he asked.

  “I got work installing wind turbines, and Buffalo was our latest job. They were adding half a dozen of them near the old shipping yards after clearing the area.”

  Metzger remembered the old shipping yards from his childhood because his father worked on the railroad. In the old days, boats and trains were the backbone of Lake Erie, shipping virtually everything under the sky before planes and tractor trailers stole their thunder. Now much of the old docks and tracks were removed in the name of progress and giant windmills took their place to generate power for the surrounding communities. He wondered if Vazquez possessed knowledge of how the power-generating devices worked, or he simply installed them.

  “How did you start flying?” Metzger inquired.

  “Obviously I’m not afraid of heights, and my boss owned one of a plane to get from city to city easier. He started taking me flying and offered me lessons when he needed me to preview some of our upcoming projects. He wanted some company for the flight, and I was a willing student.”

  “You seem to know the area fairly well.”

  “Installing the turbines isn’t an overnight process. We worked here about five months before everything went bad. Fewer and fewer of my coworkers showed up to work each day and I finally decided I wasn’t going to get paid when no one came to the site, so I switched over to survival mode. Things just got crazier by the day, and I guess I was a little slow on the draw when it came to watching the news. When those pricks came and nabbed me I was fighting a bunch of those things on the street. They pulled up in a truck and told me to jump in so they could take me to safety.”

  Vazquez shook his head slowly and Metzger completely understood that the sanctuary they spoke of turned out to be a sham.

  “I wasn’t there from the beginning,” Vazquez admitted with a hint of sorrow. “A lot of those people didn’t make it. We slaved for them and buried the bodies of the dead when it could’ve just as easily been a community from the beginning. I’m really sorry about your parents, Dan.”

  “Did you talk to them much?”

  “There wasn’t much time for conversation, but I could tell they were good people. They tried to start a revolt, but everyone was scared, just trying to stay alive long enough for help to arrive.”

  An awkward silence filled the vehicle momentarily as Metzger debated whether or not he could blame anyone at the school for the inaction that killed his parents. He couldn’t believe that no one else possessed backbone enough to take a stand against the Wardens.

  “I don’t blame anyone,” he decided aloud. “I wasn’t there, so I can’t pass judgment on what people did or didn’t
do.”

  Both of them seemed uncertain of what to say next for a moment.

  “We’re getting close,” Vazquez finally said as he pointed left at a fork in the road created by an assortment of abandoned vehicles.

  A few minutes later the group found themselves surrounded by a number of cornfields that would never be harvested. Some of the fields contained beans and other shorter crops that allowed them to spy the tall chain link fence surrounding the airport. Vazquez directed Metzger to the entrance, but both of them noticed movement within the fence once they reached the road parallel to one of the airstrips that would grant them access.

  “That’s not good,” Metzger commented, seeing dozens of undead roaming around inside the facility.

  “It got overrun,” Vazquez noted, his eyes darting left and right, searching for the reason the small airport fell victim to the undead.

  Both of them spied a section of the fence knocked inward at the same time. While it allowed them to bypass the front gate and a potentially dead electronic keypad, the opening provided them with additional danger. Metzger counted somewhere between two and three dozen undead roaming around the main building where they were about to enter.

  “Which hangar is it?” he asked Vazquez, seeing three parallel white buildings with orange roofs, each longer than the last.

  “They store it in the middle one.”

  Metzger didn’t immediately drive to the hangars, knowing every zombie on the property would turn and follow.

  “What are you doing?” Vazquez questioned with obvious concern.

  “Getting to an open area so I can give Albert some instructions.”

  Down one of the runways he found virtually no undead staggering near the concrete, so he drew to a stop, and Albert stopped the van behind him. Metzger quickly stepped out and darted back to the van as Albert rolled down the window.

  “Go near the hangars, honk your horn, and get them to follow you as far away as possible,” Metzger instructed. “We’ll probably need five or ten minutes to get the plane out and ready it for flight, assuming there aren’t any hiccups.”

  “Got it,” Albert said without wasting any time.

  He drove the van toward the group of undead wandering around the front of the property, immediately honking the horn and driving slowly enough that they noticed and followed him without hesitation.