The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  “We can’t wait here forever,” he stated. “Our choices are lead them in here and make our way around to the Humvees, or we can flee on foot and take our chances that we find a ride somewhere down the road. Carrying the equipment is going to slow us down and tire us out faster, though.”

  “It’ll take forever to get them all in here,” Nestler said, his face registering that he hadn’t decided which course to follow.

  “We don’t need them all in here. Just enough to safely make our way to the vehicles.”

  Nestler pointed to Metzger and Bryce.

  “Make us an exit in the back and clear out any infected. We’ll get the front doors open and lead them back through the factory.”

  Nestler nodded for the three other Marines to hand over the computers and binders because they needed every ounce of agility possible to escape the horde of undead about to file through the front. Bryce and Metzger managed to carry everything back to the loading dock where they set the items beside an employee entrance door and popped it open just a crack for a look outside.

  A handful of undead wandered around the fenced in area, unable to get inside or leave the area due to the mesh wire fencing. It looked similar to a prison yard, except the zombies weren’t looking for exercise or friendly conversation. The brothers looked back to the front, finding no signs of their companions before Metzger looked to his older brother, reaching back for his shorter sword.

  “Stay here. I can handle this.”

  Bryce gave him a strange look in return.

  “What?”

  “It feels like yesterday that I was protecting you from bullies and the neighbor kids.”

  Metzger smirked.

  “I never needed protecting. Keep that door open.”

  Stepping outside, Metzger immediately drew the attention of the nearby undead, waiting until they drew closer to cut through their skulls with practiced precision. He remained aggressive, attacking them before they could form any kind of perimeter around him. After a few minutes he heard yelling from inside, followed by banging sounds, and he knew the military men had begun drawing the undead through the front door.

  He dared look around the closest side of the building, finding a few undead walking aimlessly or standing around. Not ready to make a move just yet, Metzger didn’t want to lure them his way and risk drawing more from the front when they needed to be filing in through certain doors. Returning to the employee entrance, Metzger found his brother keeping vigil over the Marines who made their way toward the back as the men continued to make noise.

  “Will this work?” Bryce asked while scooping up a few of the binders from the concrete floor.

  “It should,” Metzger answered quietly, “unless there are more than we figured, or they get distracted by something else.”

  Despite the losses suffered thus far, Metzger felt reasonably certain the remainder of the group would escape with their lives and the necessary evidence. He didn’t know what the future held, but he wanted to feel safe again, either with a group of people, or at the base.

  “The guy who killed Mom and Dad,” Bryce said while they waited for the Marines to slowly make their way back to them. “Do you think he escaped that airport?”

  Metzger hesitated, suspecting he knew where his brother’s line of conversation might be heading.

  “It’s a distinct possibility,” Metzger answered evenly nonetheless.

  “Where would he go?”

  Metzger provided his brother with a perplexed look.

  “How the fuck would I know where a deranged psychopath would go after being booted from his stronghold?”

  “Do you really think someone like that who fortifies a schoolyard, kidnaps people, and murders them if they don’t comply is about to let that place go?”

  Metzger hesitated, having avoided thinking about the school since leaving it behind.

  “And you don’t think there’s any way he doesn’t still have friends out there?” Bryce pressed, drawing within a few inches of his brother’s face. The binders Bryce held dropped to the ground. “You don’t think he wants that school back at any cost?”

  Panic alarms filled Metzger’s mind because he always assumed the school would be safe once Molly and her defenders took it from Xavier and his Wardens. It crossed his mind that Bryce wanted him to lead the way to the school so they could search for Xavier along the way. Metzger hadn’t exactly made peace with how his parents were brutally murdered by the man, but he wasn’t looking to start any wars.

  “Damn it, Bryce,” he said sternly, “we can’t go rogue on this. You’ve got a wife and kid at the base.”

  “They’re safe,” Bryce noted.

  “Even so, we can’t go on some witch hunt. What are we going to do? Track his cell phone? See where his credit cards were used? Unless he goes straight back to that school, we could be years trying to find him. If he’s even alive.”

  “He’s alive,” Bryce said assuredly. “Assholes like that always find a way to survive the things that claim the best of us.”

  “This is hardly the time to plan your defection,” Metzger said. “You’d make us fugitives, and outcast your kin from the base.”

  Bryce barely skipped a beat before his next suggestion.

  “What if I got taken down by a herd of infected and you couldn’t save me?”

  Taking a deep breath, Metzger couldn’t believe what his brother proposed.

  “You’re all about God and country until this very moment?”

  “You don’t want to get back at the son-of-a-bitch who murdered our parents?”

  “Of course I want to, Bryce. I shot the man for Christ’s sake. He’s in no condition to overtake anything at the moment.”

  “What better time to track him down?”

  By now the Marines neared the halfway mark across the factory, and the sounds of dozens of undead filled the air with hisses and unearthly growls. Metzger required more time to talk his brother down from this figurative ledge that helped no one in the long term.

  “If you’re saying this shit to impress me, it’s not necessary.”

  “When am I ever going to have a realistic shot at finding this guy again?”

  “You haven’t found him now, Bryce. This is a needle in a haystack! You’re talking about betraying your country and risking your own family for petty revenge that isn’t going to bring Mom and Dad back.”

  Bryce looked at his brother as though he’d been caught off-guard and stabbed in the guts.

  “You’re telling me you don’t want a piece of this guy?”

  “I’m telling you the risk far exceeds the reward, big brother. I know you’re probably never going to receive a paycheck again, but free room and board with three square meals for us doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “We could miss the plane, Dan. We’d grab one of those planes at the hangar later and get back to the base.”

  Metzger couldn’t believe how stubborn his brother suddenly became over the issue of Xavier and the school.

  “I’m no pilot,” Metzger insisted. “You’re no pilot. We’re getting this gear back to your plane, we’re heading back to Virginia, and you’ll enlist in whatever new mission they have waiting for you. If you’re going to insist on going rogue, at least leave me with Izzy and Nate so I can watch over them.”

  “We aren’t going to get any closer than this,” Bryce said with his final attempt to sway his brother.

  “No,” Metzger insisted as the sounds of Marines and the undead grew much closer.

  Part of him wondered if Bryce suddenly wanted to shirk responsibilities altogether, but his brother constantly remained in control of his emotions. Intelligent, driven, and dedicated, Bryce aspired to reach goals and move on to the next challenge. Tracking down and murdering a man who might not even be alive felt like an unnecessary risk to Metzger, and he knew his
brother felt the same deep down.

  “There’s going to come a day when we get a chance to come back here,” Metzger said. “I’m sure of that in my heart. We can find this guy when there’s less to lose on our end.”

  Bryce said nothing, which worried Metzger all the more. He saw the wheels churning within his brother’s mind, causing him to wonder if Bryce might break away from the group at some point. His brother didn’t know the location of the school, meaning he needed Metzger’s assistance to save valuable time. A few tense seconds passed while Bryce looked down at the ground, contemplating his immediate or distant future. Danger drew closer as footsteps joined the myriad of noises reaching Metzger’s ears.

  He reached down to grab one of the computers, and Bryce joined him, scooping up the binders as the Marines joined them. Slowed by the machinery within the factory, the undead made their way around the metal presses and storage cages, less than fifty paces from the group who’d risked their lives on a gamble they could reach the Humvees before the zombies intercepted them.

  “We’ve got this,” Nestler said, having one of the Marines relieve Metzger of any computer hauling duties. “Can you use that sword and clear us a path to the front?”

  Treating Metzger as an equal, Nestler said the words without hesitation or worry. Now it was Metzger who harbored concerns about his brother that caused him to balk a few seconds. He eventually gave a nod, knowing he couldn’t communicate with Bryce until the entire group was safe.

  He stepped outside, leading the charge as everyone else carried items behind him. He heard the employee entrance door close behind him, trapping the zombies inside and leaving the armed men alternative hiding or escape routes if they got outnumbered around the front side. One of the Marines took his side, assisting with the growing number of undead by stabbing them with a large knife. The duo made good headway until they reached the front where a few dozen undead remained lingering near the front of the building.

  Nestler gave the order for one of the other Marines to seal the front entrances while everyone set down their computers and binders to assist with clearing the threat. The doors were barely closed before shots rang out, though Metzger continued cutting down the undead with his sword. He’d run dangerously close to being out of ammunition during his solo travels and hated using a firearm unless absolutely necessary for that reason.

  “We need to look for Ortega and Fuller,” Nestler said once he jumped into the driver’s seat of the first Humvee.

  Once safely seated inside, Nestler pulled his gas mask off, and the others quickly followed suit. They found their faces drenched with sweat from the rubber seal and the lack of airflow.

  He didn’t address Bryce or Metzger specifically, but both of them knew where to look unless the duo deviated incredibly far from Buffalo’s streets that led toward the lake. Metzger waited a few seconds to see if Bryce would take the initiative and give directions, but his brother appeared to be contemplating something else.

  “We need to stay to the left to avoid the undead seeing us,” Metzger said, pointing to streets somewhat removed from the lake area.

  “Ortega, Fuller, we’re leaving the factory,” Nestler said over his radio. “What’s your twenty?”

  Nestler used the 10-20 code, often used by first responders and military to ask their current location. Metzger had watched enough cop procedurals to understand that much of their lingo.

  Several seconds passed with no response. Nestler repeated his message, continuing to drive parallel to where the two Marines should have led the danger.

  “You can circle around up here without us being completely visible,” Bryce said, finally contributing to the discussion.

  Metzger looked to his brother, but Bryce wouldn’t even acknowledge him, as though ashamed of his earlier thoughts, or genuinely pissed off at his brother for not entertaining them.

  He fully understood his brother’s anger, having gone through a similar phase once he learned about his parents, but in the middle of an important mission where trained fighters had already died was not the time to ponder revenge.

  Nestler radioed the other Humvee, ordering the driver to stay back as he slowly pressed forward, looking for signs of the car the two Marines commandeered to carry out their mission. Instead, he found a wall of undead between their location and the waterfront. Some of the undead took notice of their vehicle, either hearing the noise of the engine, or simply turning from boredom and spying the Humvee.

  “If we ram through them, we risk their body parts getting into the engine compartment,” Metzger stated, having experienced such vehicle failure during the journey to Buffalo. “We might be able to get around the thinner population over there.”

  He pointed to the left where fewer undead stood, feeling a bit concerned that the herd wasn’t moving in formation.

  Nestler drove toward the lake, striking a few zombies along the way. Metzger could tell the man wasn’t optimistic, but Marines weren’t the type of people who left their own behind. Two more attempts to reach the men on the radio went unanswered, which only caused Nestler to push down on the gas pedal. More undead went flying to the side, and Metzger genuinely worried if the armored vehicle could withstand blood and intestines wrapping around its motorized parts much longer.

  Because the path to the lake consisted of city streets, their route began to narrow as more undead occupied the pavement closer to the water. Nestler attempted to push toward the front of the pack to see if he could locate the car. A particular group of zombies could be seen surrounding an object ahead of them in an intersection, and as Metzger craned his neck he saw the car the Marines took with blood stains on the driver’s side door when zombies moved out of the way.

  “Shit,” he muttered, echoing the same word Nestler spoke.

  Nestler turned left, prepared to leave the hopeless situation behind, but as he made the next left turn, he spotted something ahead that drew his attention.

  “No way,” he muttered, causing the brothers to look upward where the trio found the two Marines waving them down from a low rooftop.

  Despite the building being surrounded by about a dozen undead, Metzger felt a sense of hope in the situation until he saw Fuller clasping his right arm. Nestler noticed the injury as well, but still pulled up to the building as more undead clamored in their direction. He pointed to his radio, showing it to Ortega through the windshield. In response, the man pointed toward the abandoned car, indicating he dropped it somehow between the car and the building.

  “We need you up here, Gray,” he addressed one of the Marines in the other Humvee over the radio. “We’re going to have to extract these two from a rooftop.”

  Nestler motioned to Ortega that he would have to jump down onto the Humvee’s top, which wasn’t particularly accommodating with a mounted gun occupying the rear half of the vehicle. Ortega stared only a moment before nodding affirmatively that he understood. Engaging the increasing number of undead meant certain suicide for the group once they ran out of ammunition or grew fatigued from dodging so many of the attackers.

  He held up a finger to indicate for the two stranded men to hold on momentarily before driving the Humvee away from the building, leading some of the undead in another direction. One of the Marines from the other vehicle radioed back to indicate they were about a block away. Nestler ordered for them to stage within visual distance of the building and watch what he did before replicating the same rescue attempt.

  Metzger figured he knew what the second-lieutenant had in mind, but highly-trained stunt people jumped off buildings in the movies. Any mistake in the jump or the landing would surely result in the two Marines being dragged off the Humvee and devoured within a matter of seconds. He watched with trepidation as Nestler swung the vehicle around for a straight shot at the side of the building, plowing into any undead between them and the objective. When Nestler slammed the Humvee to a stop within inches
of the building, he pinned a zombie between the front bumper and the adjoining business, causing the zombie to reach forward at the windshield fiercely, because it couldn’t act on its instincts.

  Ortega jumped down first, landing hard, but assuming the gunner position before any hands could grab his body parts or bite into his ankles.

  “Tell Fuller to wait for the next Humvee!” Nestler yelled back to Ortega, who quickly relayed the message.

  Not wasting any time, Nestler pulled away from the building so Gray could attempt the same maneuver. He circled the area, trying to draw undead away from the others, while obviously remaining close enough to act as backup if necessary.

  When Gray drew close to the building, Fuller either jumped half a second too early, or didn’t center his landing very well, because the side of his body impacted against the driver’s side of the Humvee, bouncing him to the ground. Everyone watched in horror as he scurried beneath the vehicle for cover, but several undead had already trained their eyes on the Marine, dropping to their knees to pursue him. Nestler reached for the door handle, ready to step out and defend his fellow Marine.

  “Tell him to drive away slowly,” Metzger said to Nestler, noticing the imminent danger grasping for Fuller.

  “We should-”

  “There’s no time!” Metzger said firmly. “Dragging him out of there is the only chance he has.”

  Nestler spoke the order over the radio, and Gray pulled away slowly, hesitating a few times to give Fuller ample opportunity to grab something beneath the Humvee. When he finally did pull away at a steady speed, Fuller couldn’t be seen through the swarm of undead, meaning he acted just in time.

  Following the other vehicle until they reached an open area free of the undead, Nestler breathed a sigh of relief, though he didn’t thank Metzger for the quick thinking. A few minutes later, the group stood outside the vehicles, minus the two members they lost inside the old factory. Only time would tell if their sacrifice proved worthwhile, and Metzger still wasn’t certain what the military hoped to accomplish if and when they found the person or group responsible for the deaths of millions.