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

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  Flying the plane and landing it remained two entirely separate concepts in his mind, and he couldn’t fathom bringing the Cessna in for a smooth landing on any surface.

  Jillian and Luke soon reached the front, unbuckling Vazquez from his seat and dragging him into the aisle, allowing Metzger to reluctantly assume the pilot’s seat since verbal instruction wasn’t a substitute for flying experience. Knowing he had less than two hours of travel left ahead of him, Metzger simply needed to keep the plane steady, hoping Vazquez awoke from his unexpected slumber soon.

  Despite his injury, Albert moved forward to assess the pilot, seeing if he could assist in any way.

  “How is he?” Metzger inquired.

  “Stable,” Albert answered. “The bleeding stopped, but he lost a fair amount of blood.”

  “I need him awake within the next two hours, but sooner would be awesome.”

  “I can’t exactly make any promises, Dan. He needs fluids and we don’t exactly have medical supplies lying around.”

  Metzger looked out the windshield, seeing blue sky in front of him and the onset of fall colors below. He felt thankful for that, and the fact that the Cessna wasn’t plummeting toward the colorful trees. Feeling somewhat bad for being short with Albert, a man who continued to assist others, even while fatally wounded, Metzger knew his nerves were getting the better of him.

  “I appreciate anything you can do, Albert. I’ll keep us steady as long as I can.”

  Over the course of nearly an hour, Metzger simply kept traveling in a southeasterly direction with an emphasis on the southerly. He felt certain even Vazquez wasn’t going to land them exactly where they needed to be, but flying directly over the military base didn’t feel like sound logic either. By taking to the air, they had turned a few days of travel, more than likely a few weeks, into a matter of hours. Knowing this, Metzger wasn’t worried about driving the remainder of the way to Naval Station Norfolk.

  Of course he needed to keep the Cessna in the air long enough to get close to Virginia, which felt doable thus far, but he knew the landing would be the tricky part.

  Although not entirely comfortable with the plane, Metzger found himself able to keep it level and steady the entire time. He offered to let Samantha sit up front with him, hoping to keep her mind off Albert’s slowly worsening condition. Without a word, she simply declined by shaking her head, openly concerned about losing yet another loved one in her life. Metzger couldn’t imagine how any child coped after losing his or her parents, wondering how many of his school children and their parents survived the dawn of the undead.

  Fever had begun to set in with Albert, along with a cold sweat throughout his body that he reported when asked.

  “You’ve got to fight it,” Luke encouraged.

  “There is no fighting it,” Albert replied evenly, resolved to let the toxin from the bite within his bloodstream run its course. “I’m just staying with you long enough to make sure you land, so I can see your new life.”

  “There isn’t a life without you.”

  “What you did back there was so brave,” Albert said, cradling his partner’s face with one hand.

  “If it hadn’t been for you, I’m not sure I could’ve done it,” Luke admitted, choking out the words as tears formed beneath his eyes.

  At this point Albert was seated on the floor, propped against a seat, which started with him tending to Vazquez, and now because he grew too weak to move around. Time, it seemed, drew near for the former emergency room nurse to leave the living world. Luke cradled him, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes welled with tears.

  Metzger turned to see more clouds and blue sky in front of them, daring to look down occasionally with the knowledge that he couldn’t land the plane adequately if it began to fall out of the sky. He glanced twice out of surprise when Jillian assumed the co-pilot’s seat beside him, though glad for the company. Putting on a headset, he handed her the other pair so they could speak and hear one another somewhat privately.

  “I feel like we haven’t had much time to talk,” Metzger stated, glancing between her and the plane’s console.

  “It’s been a hectic few days.”

  “You said you have family near the base? Have you talked to them recently?”

  “Last week was the last time,” Jillian replied. “The phones have all gone dead since then, so I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Are they waiting for you?”

  “My parents and a few cousins are trying to hold their home and forage for what food they can in the area.”

  Metzger sympathized with her plight, though he felt a bit guilty for carrying on a conversation, with Albert literally dying just a few feet behind him. Due to the dire circumstances, however, he needed a distraction from the perils of flying a plane. The landing gears were retracted, and he didn’t have a clue how to draw them out if he needed to land. He tried studying the knobs and levers around him, but didn’t dare play with any of them until absolutely necessary.

  “What did you do before all this began?” Metzger asked Jillian.

  “I was a student at Niagara University, studying history,” she answered almost numbly, as though the thought of normal life felt abstract now.

  “This is definitely a new chapter in the history of mankind. Maybe you’ll end up recording it someday.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s doubtful we’ll ever find out what caused all of this,” Metzger surmised.

  “We heard it was terrorists.”

  “I just wonder what kind of terrorist creates a world in which no one can live.”

  “Maybe the kind that believes firmly in a life thereafter.”

  Looking to Jillian, he saw that she believed her statement, and knew all too well, even at her young age, what acts radicals were capable of carrying out. He understood religions in third world countries enough to know that some extremist groups preached it was acceptable to kill those who were non-believers. What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was why they targeted indiscriminate groups, knowing full well some of their own fellow worshippers might be collateral damage.

  “It’s only been a month, and I’m already worried about the state of the world,” Jillian admitted. “If people like the Wardens can take over a school and kill people for no reason, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

  “There’s always hope,” Metzger said, sounding more optimistic than he felt. “I like to think some of us are left alive because of more than just luck.”

  “I’m not sure what to believe in anymore. When this all happened I was with my roommate in our basement apartment, hoping it was all just a bad dream.”

  “Basement apartment?”

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  “I watched the news half the night in the basement of my house and fell asleep down there.”

  “It was terrible,” Jillian said with a look of despondence. “We saw the news as it unfolded and my roommate left to find her family. I never saw her again.”

  Jillian paused momentarily.

  “After seeing what was happening in the streets I didn’t dare leave for a few days, even though the noises from the apartment above me were freaking me out.”

  “What was it?” Metzger inquired.

  “At least a few people above me transformed into those things. I don’t know if one bit the other, or what, but I kept hearing them thump around and growl every time some noise drew their attention. It was hard to sleep, thinking one of them or some looter might bust through my door any second.”

  Metzger couldn’t help but think about the basement similarity, wondering if the substance that initially made people sick and turned them might have been too light to sink below ground. He always believed that the people within ground zero of the factory explosions were doomed the moment they breathed in any amount of the gaseous product, and perhaps the gas traveled further than anyone realized that fateful day.

  “My sister was also attending school, so we talked f
or a few days when the phones were working,” Jillian said. “We finally made plans to meet, knowing things weren’t going to be safe in Buffalo much longer. She said she would come to me, but when she called me from outside my place to let me know she was there, that group snatched her. The kidnappers didn’t spot me, but Molly and her group saw what happened and they approached me. I was scared to death until they offered me the opportunity to get my sister back.”

  Metzger wondered how Molly and her group were always one step behind the infamous Xavier and his Wardens, but he supposed the witnesses they talked to helped them compile facts and locations.

  “I was told Deena didn’t last long in their prison school, but no one really told me why. I’m guessing she bucked the system like your parents and they thought it was easier to make her disappear.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Metzger said, pausing before he continued. “You handle yourself pretty well. Did someone teach you firearms?”

  “My father was in the Army. He taught me and Deena how to fish, hunt, and fire a gun. I’m not sure he ever realized we were girls, or he just didn’t know any other way to raise us. We caught hell if we didn’t attend church, even after we left for college.”

  Jillian drew a thin smile at the thought.

  “Somehow he always knew when we weren’t obeying his wishes.”

  “You make it sound like you’re not expecting to find your family again.”

  “I’m bracing for the worst,” Jillian admitted. “It’s probably unrealistic to expect any shred of happiness in this world ever again.”

  She looked back to Albert with concern and despair.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Metzger said softly through the headset so only she could hear. “What happened back there could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “It could’ve just as easily been me,” Jillian said in numbed monotone. “Is it wrong of me to think that?”

  “No,” Metzger muttered just above a whisper.

  She provided a glance that indicated she indeed heard his reply, and appreciated him understanding. No one wanted to see someone they cared about ripped apart by the undead, but each of them appreciated the fact that they lived to see another day.

  Both were disturbed by a commotion behind them that came in the form of multiple voices. Metzger immediately worried that Albert’s health was failing severely, but as he turned he saw Vazquez coming to, shaking the cobwebs from his head. Jillian stepped away from her seat, allowing Metzger to move over once the pilot staggered forward to assume the left seat.

  “Dear God, how long was I out?” Vazquez asked after accepting the primary headset from Metzger.

  “An hour or so. Are you okay to fly?”

  “I don’t see how we have much of a choice. Did I pass out?”

  “Yeah. Albert says you need fluids. Should we land?”

  “I can keep going.”

  “If you black out again, I can’t land this plane, and it’s eventually going to run out of fuel.”

  Vazquez nodded.

  “Not for another three or four hours. I’m feeling okay, so let’s keep going. The closer we get to Virginia, the better.”

  “Fine.”

  Metzger spent the next few minutes carefully monitoring the situation around him. Albert grew more sweaty and pale, almost ashen in fact, as time passed. Vazquez continued to fly steadily, obviously reinvigorated by the rest that came with passing out for nearly an hour. He didn’t say much, except to compliment Metzger on his novice flying abilities once or twice.

  “Any idea where we are?” Metzger inquired, able to remain silent only so long.

  “Not really,” Vazquez answered. “Assuming you kept us heading in the right direction we should be somewhere over Maryland, or maybe the northern tip of Virginia. I’m just not seeing distinctive landmarks yet.”

  “I don’t think I got us too far off course. If you’re still wanting to get to Washington, you could set us down closer to your destination and we could find another ride to Virginia.”

  “Are you kidding?” Vazquez asked somewhat heatedly. “I got shot with all of you around me. I wouldn’t make it one city block in that city by myself, so I’m sticking with all of you until I can assess the situation a little better. Besides, I’m not taking poor Albert to die in what I suspect is a warzone.”

  He said the last statement quietly enough that the other passengers didn’t hear what might be interpreted as a callous statement.

  “Hey, I was just offering an alternative,” Metzger said defensively. “You’ve already saved me weeks of driving and walking by flying us this far, so it’s the least I could do.”

  Vazquez lightened his expression slightly, realizing he’d overreacted.

  “You’ve done most of the flying.”

  “I just kept it steady.”

  A few silent minutes passed before Vazquez spoke again.

  “Sorry I snapped at you. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ll find my sister, even if I travel into Washington. Her only hope was safe passage with the people she worked with, and I’m not sure how long they kept the government up and running.”

  “I know from talking to my brother that ships can be deployed to house politicians and important people. I’m betting the President is alive somewhere on one of those ships, or in some kind of bunker.”

  “Lot of good he’ll do if he can’t communicate with anyone,” Vazquez scoffed. “We’re our own elected officials now, my friend.”

  A pop and a muffled boom from the left side of the plane ceased their conversation immediately as Vazquez looked anxiously outside the window. Metzger’s mind initially believed someone from below shot at the plane, but considering their height he dismissed the thought right away.

  “Our left engine just blew,” Vazquez stated, and everyone could see what appeared to be smoke, or a mist, flowing from the engine as it gasped its last.

  “How?” Metzger questioned, glancing to see everyone behind them staring nervously out the windows.

  “It might have taken some damage at the airport from our stalker friends,” the pilot answered as he tried looking over some gauges before the plane began tugging in the direction of the blown engine, forcing him to take countermeasures and pull hard against it with a grimace. “They probably hit the wing and we lost all of our fuel, or the fuckers nicked an oil line. I can get us on the ground, but it ain’t gonna to be pretty.”

  “What can I do?” Metzger inquired nervously.

  Vazquez quickly looked over the panel before him, trying to determine something specific.

  “We have fuel, so they got the oil line with a lucky shot, or our shitty luck,” he finally said. “Get everyone braced for landing. I’m not going to keep us up here with one engine and fight this thing in my condition.”

  Metzger motioned for everyone to get seated and click their seatbelts. He continued to watch as Luke assisted an agonized Albert back to his rear seat before securing his seatbelt for him. Sitting back with a pained, almost overwhelmed look about him, Albert couldn’t even raise a hand to help Luke with the seatbelt. He appeared labored just moving and breathing at this point.

  “How are we doing?” Metzger asked the pilot, noticing Vazquez was forced to focus most of his attention on keeping the control wheel moved to the right as he continued to compensate for the lack of one engine.

  “So far, so good. Do me a favor and see if you can find us an open field or somewhere smooth to land once I get us lower.”

  Without a word, Metzger alternated his view between the front windshield and his side window, seeing objects on the ground grow larger with each passing second. Factories and houses showed more detail, and in time even hoards of the undead became visible. Roads and highways grew clearer, vehicles frozen in every direction atop their gray concrete and blacktop. A glance to his left showed Metzger what he thought for a split-second might be the White House, but a deeper stare revealed it was some stately government building, possibly not even
in Washington, D.C.

  “Focus,” Vazquez said with a strained tone after catching Metzger’s lengthy stare.

  The control wheel fought him like a marlin on the waters of the Atlantic.

  Metzger frantically looked in every direction, seeing only buildings below the group at first. Ahead of them, as the ground grew dangerously closer, he spotted what appeared to be a number of open fields. Between the speed of the plane and the distance from the ground he couldn’t tell if the fields yielded corn, wheat, or any crop at all, and he certainly didn’t see any better prospects further ahead.

  “We’ve got fields straight ahead,” he informed Vazquez.

  “And ahead of them?”

  Metzger craned his neck to see beyond the fields.

  “They go on for a mile or two, and then there’s a water tower, which probably means another town.”

  “Fields it is,” Vazquez said more to himself than his co-pilot.

  Vazquez fought to keep the Cessna level as he descended, and Metzger felt vibrations in the plane when the pilot maneuvered the flaps to slow their speed, and again when he lowered the landing gear. When the fields drew closer, Metzger expected to find corn stalks, wheat, or beans, the latter two obviously making for a smoother landing. Instead, orange specks began materializing on the ground.

  “Shit,” Metzger muttered.

  “What does ‘shit’ mean?” Vazquez inquired, still too busy battling the plane to examine his surroundings closely.

  “Pumpkin fields.”

  Vazquez rolled his eyes at the thought of landing atop the round, bumpy vegetables, still not changing course or pulling up.

  “Too late now,” he said. “Here’s hoping we find a smooth patch to land on.”

  Metzger glanced behind him, finding a mix of apprehensive stares and eyes completely closed with death grips on the plane’s interior. He remembered a commercial flight once as a teenager, where the landing felt much rougher than the takeoff, and that was under ideal conditions, on a solid runway constructed solely for planes.