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

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  Holding the map in one hand, and the flare gun in the other, he stared into the eyes of the half dozen undead who wanted to make him their midday lunch. He turned to see the questioning stares of his colleagues in the Hummer momentarily before trudging their way to join them. At long last he neared the end of his journey, but his stomach tightened at the thought of what he might find, much like it had when he entered the house of his parents.

  He needed to find his brother, regardless of the personal cost, but he didn’t like the idea of risking their lives to complete his quest. A few difficult decisions awaited all of them during the next few miles of their journey, but for now Metzger felt glad to have their companionship as he climbed into the large vehicle.

  “Where to?” Sutton asked when Metzger settled into the seat behind him.

  “North,” Metzger answered, pointing out the direction. “Let’s see how many of these motherfuckers the military left wandering around the city.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Metzger possessed the tools necessary to contact his brother, and other items that might alert the Navy to his presence prematurely and get him shot.

  Due to their hasty transfer to a single vehicle, certain items were left behind, so the six adults and Samantha were forced to survive on limited ammunition and handheld weapons. Metzger managed to maintain items important to him, including the .357, his two swords, a semi-automatic pistol, the sat phone, and a set of keys, complete with fob, to a car that held some of his last remaining sentimental family memories near Buffalo.

  He also maintained the family photo he managed to snag before leaving his old stomping grounds, although it hadn’t remained in mint condition. So much of his journey from Blue Ash to Buffalo felt like a tedious, dangerous month of his life, filled with worry about his own life and the lives of his family members. After his arrival the following events felt more like a roller coaster, meeting people left and right, finally trusting select people for the first time since the apocalypse, and arriving in Virginia far sooner than he ever expected.

  Jillian sat in the middle of the bench seats, and Vazquez sat on the other side of her. Luke and Samantha were crammed in the back, neither complaining one bit because it was likely the safest place inside the Hummer. Buster sat back there with them, letting Samantha scratch the top of his head, occasionally letting out a delighted moan as he soaked in the affection. Neither Metzger or Jillian felt obligated to reveal the previous evening’s events to everyone, particularly considering they were about to enter hostile territory, but every so often Jillian would clutch one of his fingers with one of hers, and he returned the finger squeeze. Knowing someone cared helped remove some of the butterflies inside his stomach, but he suspected the group still had quite a fight ahead of them.

  “There’s something I need to tell all of you,” Metzger announced after about half a mile of avoiding the undead, which seemed to be aimlessly walking throughout the streets.

  “You can start by explaining why soldier boy took us only so far before bailing on us,” Sutton complained.

  “I think he has some personal plans in mind,” Metzger answered neutrally, avoiding the subject of the box truck for the moment.

  “What’s your announcement?” Luke asked from behind him.

  “The corporal told me the undead are indeed thicker around the base,” Metzger began. “But there’s also a danger from the Navy personnel. They could mistake us for the undead, they could think we’re looters, or any number of things could go wrong. I don’t want any of you going into this with blinders on. It might be smarter if I get my own vehicle at some point and approach the base alone.”

  “If they aren’t bothering to thin the undead numbers, why would they attack the living?” Gracine said, providing a counterpoint of sorts.

  Metzger had provided the group with a brief summary of what Keppler told him when they loaded up the Hummer with supplies.

  “I’m just giving full disclosure here,” Metzger said. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my account.”

  “We’ll know more when we get there,” Sutton said confidently. “First we need to get through the brain deads.”

  Metzger navigated for Sutton, reading the map while stealing glances of the defunct businesses they passed. Restaurants, banks, churches, and workout centers went by in a blur, all victims of the collapse of society. Weeds popped up in random places, and the grass was often knee-high where it could be found, because no one remained to tend to such affairs. The local streets, including walls and windows, appeared to have a dusty coating on them. Metzger knew dust was mainly comprised of dead skin cells, so it only made sense that an area densely populated with the undead would contain so much of it. He also knew the find didn’t bode well for their immediate future.

  Some of the streets parallel to their route teemed with the undead, leaving him assured that Martinez definitely provided him with the safest path to the base. For that he was thankful, and genuinely hoped the young soldier made it to Texas and found some answers regarding his family’s fate. He couldn’t imagine sacrificing so very much to guard others, and possibly set the world right, that soldiers were asked to forego knowing about their loved ones.

  He imagined the military permitted them to attempt contact as long as communications held up. Bryce even indicated as much, which explained why he couldn’t call very often, and was crunched for time when he did.

  “What’s that?” Samantha inquired upon spying the flare gun.

  “It’s a flare gun,” Metzger answered. “It shoots a firework into the air to signal other people.”

  Luke provided a strained smile because he obviously harbored concerns for the safety of Samantha and the others. Light-hearted moments came few and far between during the apocalypse, and Metzger supposed each of them longed for days of peace and solitude in a safe haven.

  Sutton stopped at a four-way intersection, taking in the disturbing view of buildings and their unlit windows, like creepy haunted houses within a movie. Occasionally a zombie pressed itself against a window, serving only to add to the grim reality that surrounded the group. Sutton waited only a few seconds before driving forward once again, drawing the attention of more undead inhabitants along the streets. For any number of blocks they had passed only a handful of zombies at a time, and suddenly the number seemed to multiply. Metzger understood that the undead certainly weren’t stationary at all times, particularly when something, even distant, drew their attention. Some of them had obviously migrated since the military last scouted the streets of Norfolk, forcing Sutton to either dodge them or push them out of the way with the vehicle. Ramming them at a faster speed would likely dent the grill and the hood, allowing body parts and guts to strike the running engine and compromise it.

  Most of the zombies were halfway limp anyway, barely turning to see the Hummer before it knocked them to the ground. Their muscles never seemed to tense, and even when they groped at potential victims their arms came up slowly as though great effort was required to move faster than their usual pace.

  Metzger looked ahead, but also glanced out each side of the vehicle to observe the landscape. Having metal and glass between him and the undead did little to smother any fears he felt for the safety of himself and those surrounding him. The deeper into the city they drove, the more danger surrounded them with each passing block. He took notice of the various clothing the undead were wearing in various states of decay. In addition to everyday people who might have been working at a construction site or white-collar businesses, he spied nurses, doctors, and police officers who probably tried to hold the line and assist the living. He also noticed a few zombie wearing military uniforms like the men they just passed.

  No one was exempt from death, of course, and it appeared that even the best-prepared could still fall prey to the plague and the undead army it created.

  A large railyard became visible along the left as the group traveled parallel to Highway 337 on their right. Apartments, houses, and
a few parks slowly passed, but the freshly-painted houses, multiple story apartments, and changing trees didn’t provide the same inviting tourism brochure appearance with zombies in the foreground.

  With the variety of clothing and uniforms lining the streets, it might have been a picture of Americana worthy of coffee table books if the people wearing the clothes were alive. Now they looked more like some frightening videogame cover with their empty eyes, gnashing teeth, and wounds with dried, clotted blood.

  “You’ll have to get on 337 to cross the bridge,” Metzger said, pointing the way as he looked between the street they were on and the map.

  “This is getting deep,” Sutton commented as they drew closer to another bridge, this one providing six lanes total with a thin concrete barricade in the center.

  Metal rails on either side acted as pens to keep the undead who wandered onto the bridge contained there unless they fell over or crossed to the other side. Some vehicles were moved to the right side, meaning Sutton needed only navigate around the zombies most of the time. They crossed, finding a string of two-story apartment buildings on either side. Metzger guessed the neighborhood was named Meadowbrook because the first apartments they passed were named that and a street sign beside a church had Norfolk printed above the name Meadowbrook once again.

  “I wonder if some of this is military housing,” he questioned aloud. “A lot of the families don’t live on the base.”

  “A lot of them probably didn’t make it to safety,” Gracine said grimly as a higher number of female and underage undead stumbled into the highway from the sidewalks.

  Metzger looked back to Samantha briefly, wondering how any child could survive the current circumstances without a small army to protect them.

  Very little changed as they approached a campus surrounded by green fencing and imposing gates. It appeared to serve one or more military branches, but school was definitely out as the yard within the gates appeared neglected. It may have been free from any undead, as none of them wandered aimlessly within, but the complete lack of activity indicated someone might have sought shelter within the buildings or fought to defend the campus.

  “Anyone hungry?” Sutton asked when they reached the business district.

  Packed with restaurants, auto parts stores, and convenience stores long since looted, the area might have been worth exploring were they not pressured to reach the base as soon as possible. Much of the area looked like any other small city between the coasts, but the streets and storefronts indicated the town thrived due to the tax base when the government was functioning. The sky ahead of them remained a strange gray-blue shade that seemed to go on forever, indicative of towns off the water.

  It felt foreign to Metzger not seeing a skyline or trees blocking the sky. Buildings and storefronts technically impeded the view, but just barely, like a distant horizon appearing low to the ground.

  “A drive-thru sounds awful damn good right now,” Gracine commented, staring longingly at the unlit signs of familiar eateries.

  “We have to earn everything we eat these days,” Vazquez said in a shallow voice, as though his mind was wandering back to some distant memory.

  Nothing inside the fast food restaurants would still be edible after so long, short of mustard and ketchup packets. Metzger felt reasonably certain they too would have been raided shortly after people realized all consequences went out the window with manners and accountability.

  “Can you call your brother on the sat phone?” Gracine inquired, turning around to look at Metzger.

  “I can call the number, but it sounds like it’s kept in a designated area. If Bryce isn’t there I have no idea who I might reach.”

  “It may get to a place where we don’t have a choice,” Sutton chimed in.

  “I’m aware,” Metzger said. “It has to be a last resort if we don’t see any other way into the base, or we can’t establish contact with the Navy folks.”

  Drawing close to the southern edge of the base, and near the end of the business district, Sutton pulled into a hardware store parking lot. Through the long since smashed display window Metzger could see the place was looted, but Sutton obviously felt the need to check for something, or a few items, within the old store. In a sea of household name chains, this was a mom and pop store with a white sign overhead and red lettering that proudly stated Williams Hardware was in business.

  Even if it wasn’t.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sutton said as he grabbed the door handle.

  “Sure you don’t want an extra pair of eyes?” Metzger asked.

  Sutton hesitated a second before answering.

  “Come on.”

  Metzger jumped out of the Hummer, immediately drawing the attention of a few zombies across the street. With the knife sheathed at his side, he didn’t worry about dealing with them unless they drew much closer. He didn’t want the others getting out of the vehicle, risking the possibility of separation, so he quickly followed Sutton through the large opening into the store.

  “The base is going to have defenses,” Sutton said assuredly. “I’m guessing they prepared primarily for attack from air or sea, leaving their ground defenses in the hands of armed guards. We may have to deal with a fence or two to get where we need to go. I suspect the Navy didn’t leave too many access points for stragglers to wander inside their compound. Look for anything we can use.”

  Metzger found empty hooks along the walls, very few containing any items. The floors were a mess, littered with discarded items civilians and the military alike probably rejected during their searches. Feeling the stop was a waste of time, he helped rummage through the items just the same, following Sutton’s lead.

  Sutton ducked behind the counter, not finding anything useful, so he switched on a flashlight before going through a swinging door to search the stockroom. Metzger continued looking along the floor, locating a few lighters and flashlights he swiped up. Heat and light sources always seemed to be lacking, so he always took what he could find. He discovered a cordless rotary tool that might have enough charge to carry out some light cutting, so he snatched the box from the floor as Sutton emerged from the stockroom.

  Sporting a rare smile, Sutton held a pair of bolt cutters in one hand and a crow bar in the other.

  “Let’s roll.”

  Metzger followed him back to the Hummer, not bothering to deal with the zombies, even though they were within striking distance of the vehicle. Both slid inside and closed the doors as three members of the undead laid hands upon the Hummer. Growling and fussing, they pawed the vehicle even as it backed into the road and headed north toward the base.

  Sutton had handed off the equipment to Gracine as soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, and Metzger honestly had no idea whether they would need to sneak into the base, or if a military presence remained to meet them. Time for details hadn’t exactly worked its way into the few conversations Metzger held with his brother. Cutting the fence was an absolute last resort in his mind because he expected to be met by some military presence, and he didn’t want to leave a gaping hole in the base’s defenses for the undead to stumble through.

  Daring to roll down the window halfway, Metzger put his nose to the edge of it, breathing in the fresh air that came from the ocean mingling with the local lakes and rivers. The wind picked up due to the large bodies of water, but he felt the tradeoff was worth leaving the stench of the undead behind him. With so much of the population dead, whether walking around or left to rot on the ground, urban areas were comparable to strolling through a landfill. The only creatures capable of scavenging the bodies in the streets were insects and worms, and that process took an eternity by comparison. Any mammals attempting such a feat were either chased off or consumed by the undead.

  Metzger felt a strange mix of freedom and excitement, hoping to finally see his brother and provide some sanctuary for the six people who survived the journey. The words of the soldiers returned to his mind, however, as he wondered where the massiv
e herd of undead they spoke of might be roaming. Not the least bit stealthy, or capable of lying in wait, the zombies had likely migrated to an area that drew them, and he worried it might be exactly where the black Hummer was heading.

  “We’re getting close,” Sutton noted as they passed the last few buildings in the town before open fields appeared on the right and the outskirts of what Metzger assumed was part of the base emerged on the left.

  Buildings, trees, and decorative shrubs blocked the view on the left side, and it wasn’t until they reached a checkpoint gate with a blue sign that Metzger knew they had reached the base. Strangely, no guard stood watch at the gate, and no crowd of the undead was visible. Several stragglers moped around the highway and the sidewalks, but the situation wasn’t anything the group couldn’t deal with rather quickly.

  As though expecting an ambush, Sutton pulled up beside the guard shack, stopping beside it for a look inside, and around the surrounding area. Everyone stepped from the Hummer, observing and listening for any unusual activity. Metzger questioned whether or not they had gone far enough to reach the base because he only heard a low murmur of groans from the nearby undead.

  While everyone took a step forward, Buster stayed near the vehicle, sniffing the air and making a sneer with his face as though something undesirable wasn’t far away. Metzger looked back, seeing the dog’s actions, chalking it up to the few undead wandering nearby. He emitted a quiet growl from his throat, taking half a step back as the others continued to inspect the area.

  Peering inside the guard shack, Metzger half expected to find blood smearing the glass surface that comprised much of the tiny structure. He noticed a clipboard sitting atop a desk as though the guard had stepped away for a smoke break rather than abandoned his post. A helmet hung on one hook, and a few other papers tacked to the wall blew with the light breeze that passed through the shack.