The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  “Where the hell is this Nadeau dude at?” the Marine driving the Humvee asked without removing his eyes from the road. “He’s probably holed up in some bunker somewhere, living off dry rations the rest of his life.”

  “I just hope he’s miserable as fuck,” Bryce muttered.

  “I hope he’s already dead,” Metzger added.

  Most Canadians Metzger met during his lifetime proved to be good-natured people who liked basic liberties and hated their free healthcare system. Stereotypes indicated they all enjoyed beer, hockey, and maple syrup, and Metzger learned most Canadians liked any given two of those staples in their lives. He supposed terrorism could come from any country if a person possessed means and bad intentions, but Metzger wondered if Nadeau truly planned on murdering millions, or creating the undead legion that now walked the earth.

  Both Humvees managed to avoid the occasional zombie, and no survivors were spotted during the trek. When they pulled up to the familiar fences, Metzger immediately felt alarmed because the back gate remained wide-open, and several undead wandered the grounds both inside and outside the mesh wire fence. He didn’t see any open doors along any side of the building, which possibly indicated survivors huddled inside to wait out some form of danger. Metzger said nothing, but he feared something terrible occurred at the school during the past three weeks since he’d assisted a few dozen people.

  Parking the vehicles in a manner that blocked the one remaining entrance to the interior of the fencing, the Marines jumped out with firearms in a ready position. Metzger stepped out without hesitation, using his short sword, the only one he brought this time, to cut down two consecutive zombies. He stared at the bodies momentarily, finding the tone of their skin different, even unnerving, because they hadn’t decayed very much. No stab wounds, or holes from gunfire, appeared on their skin, or the clothes still covering their bodies.

  “What’s wrong?” Bryce asked, taking his side.

  “These folks died recently. It’s almost as if they lived and died right here.”

  Bryce understood the implication as a grim look crossed his face. He led the way to the nearest set of double doors, finding them secured when he tugged on them. The next set, which Metzger considered the main entrance, gave with a simple tug when his brother pulled them open. Immediately, the group found sheer darkness inside, and the Marines switched on their flashlights before leading the way into the first hallway.

  Metzger immediately sensed danger, because no one met them, and no talking or sounds of work echoed through the halls. He instinctively rapped on walls when he entered buildings to draw out the dead, but this time he decided not to because he didn’t want to startle the military men, or draw a group of zombies in such a tight space.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said in a low voice to his brother.

  “You think?” Bryce asked sarcastically.

  While the Marines weren’t willing to let Metzger take the lead, possibly not wanting their pride wounded, they let him point out the direction he felt best to find answers. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what spaces the residents chose for lodging, cooking, and socializing, he decided to start with the area that formerly served as the cafeteria in the old school. When they rounded the first corner, the two Marines leading the way nearly jumped out of their skins when a growling zombie appeared in the beam of a flashlight. Both immediately opened fire on it, which caused Metzger to shake his head.

  Their first few shots struck it in the torso due to their initial surprise, but one of the two men quickly managed a headshot and put it down. Metzger walked over to it, studying it for wounds other than the three bullet holes.

  He saw none.

  “What are you looking for?” one of the men asked gruffly.

  “These people don’t have any wounds,” Metzger answered as he patted down the body, finding a small flashlight in one of the pants pockets.

  “So?”

  “So, if they weren’t stabbed or shot, how did they die? It doesn’t stand to reason all of them inhaled or ingested the toxin that caused all of this.”

  “We aren’t here to solve a fuckin’ mystery.”

  Metzger inhaled through his nose, his eyes locking with the Marine’s.

  “Actually, we are. I don’t know about you, but I want to know who the fuck I’m up against before we meet the son-of-a-bitch. I also want to know if there’s a chance we’re breathing something toxic.”

  Turning on the flashlight, Metzger started down the hallway, using his sword to stab two other zombies in the skulls, seeing no wounds on their bodies. He couldn’t explain what happened at the facility, but he knew the chances of finding any survivors were practically zero. Pressing forward, he got halfway down a long hallway when he spotted a male zombie lurking near some lockers. When it turned, Metzger didn’t recognize the pale eyes, but he knew the young man as someone he assisted when he helped people take back the school.

  “Ryan,” he muttered the young man’s name, shaking his head as he turned away from the staggering zombie, letting the Marines deal with him instead.

  “You knew him?” Bryce asked with more sympathy than normal.

  “He was a prisoner here when we took back the school. I know that asshole Fournier is behind all of this. If he couldn’t have this place, no one could.”

  “That’s a lot of work on his end to simply throw it away,” Bryce surmised. “You sure this wasn’t some kind of accident?”

  “Doubtful. These people weren’t stupid. They were just put in a bad position by Fournier and his people.”

  “Maybe our Canadian friend left behind a present that went off and killed your friends here.”

  Metzger wasn’t certain he’d ever find answers. With Ryan out of the way, lying at the foot of some lockers, he followed the Marines down the hallway, finding natural light entering the school from a few different classrooms off to either side.

  He felt a strange combination of anger and regret because he’d risked life and limb to help the people at the school, only to see his efforts wasted due to someone’s callous actions. Knowing his parents met their demise at the school weighed on his mind, and he kept looking to Bryce to see if his brother showed any emotion about their surroundings.

  As usual, Bryce registered a poker face, giving no indication about the thoughts running through his mind.

  Much of the school looked clean and overhauled, as though the survivors who stayed behind made a go of living there. Gone were the blood trails, horrible stenches, and closed off areas where bodies and waste were stored.

  When the group encountered two more zombies that looked recently deceased, Metzger lost all hope that anyone survived whatever wave of death crashed over the converted school. The Marines dealt with them swiftly, using bayonets attached to the ends of their rifles before walking confidently toward the cafeteria. He noticed Bryce taking in the surroundings, trying to act businesslike, as though scouting the area, but his eyes lingered at several rooms and hallways a little too long.

  Less than a minute later, the group reached the cafeteria doors, which were strangely closed and secured. Metzger felt an initial surge of hope that survivors might have barricaded themselves inside. Pessimistic thoughts immediately followed, causing him to wonder if scores of the undead lingered behind the doors instead.

  Even the Marines looked to one another hesitantly before one of them slowly reached forward and grasped the doorknobs while everyone held their various weapons in ready positions. Metzger actually sheathed his sword and drew a sidearm because he worried the group could get overrun if zombies came pouring out of the large cafeteria area. He swallowed hard as the armed man turned the knobs, pulling the doors back to reveal a mostly dark area.

  A single, thick stream of daylight poured from a side window, striking the center of the cafeteria like a spotlight during a stage performance. The rest of the windows were
covered in thick paper materials of some kind, which wasn’t the case during Metzger’s last visit to the school. Chairs and tables were moved to the sides, as though placed there so the eyes drew toward the centerpiece. Metzger required a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark once he knew a horde of undead weren’t coming at him. In fact, not a single member of the dead legion occupied the room, so he stepped cautiously inside, studying the manmade structure that stood taller than two men and encompassed a radius of nearly twenty feet.

  Four large wooden branches that acted as beams intersected one another in a central location, bound together with thick ropes, forming a three-dimensional double ‘X’ that supported itself with four appendages. His nostrils detected the odor of freshly cut wood, remembering times when his father downed trees with a chainsaw during his youth.

  Metzger suspected the bizarre artwork was placed there for someone’s benefit, not likely his own, because Xavier couldn’t have expected him to return. As he stepped closer, he discovered a body tied to the center of the wood where all four logs intersected, and had it been a zombie, it would have assuredly hissed and growled at the group the minute the doors opened.

  Metzger virtually needed to step beneath the structure to see the face of the person bound by arms and wrists to the wood. With so little light entering the room, he used the flashlight, aiming it carefully upward, because he wasn’t certain he could handle more familiar deaths just yet.

  As though sensing the moment belonged to Metzger, Bryce and the Marines remained a few steps behind, curiously looking, but not interfering. He couldn’t imagine why Nadeau and his people would return to slaughter the entire compound, but leave one person alive, though it appeared they did exactly that.

  “Molly?” Metzger asked just above a whisper, causing the person above him to stir.

  For the briefest moment he wasn’t sure if the eyes would flutter open and stare at him with ravenous pale irises, or he might find life after the emotional distress of seeing familiar faces deceased in the hallways.

  “Dan?” she questioned, as her eyes fluttered open a few times before she went completely limp against her restraints.

  “We need to get her down,” Metzger said, finding strength and energy that just moments earlier felt completely sapped.

  When the Marines momentarily hesitated, Bryce took his brother’s side and began cutting the ropes binding Molly.

  “Some help would be nice, guys,” he said. “She may be our only link to Nadeau at this point.”

  Once Molly was freed, the military men assisted with lowering her to the ground. Being practical, Metzger checked her for wounds, particularly bites, without being indecent.

  “She seems clean,” he reported. “We need to get her hydrated and fed so we can figure out what the hell happened here.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” Bryce noted. “If Nadeau and his people retaliated, they’ve already got a head start on us.”

  “This wasn’t done today,” Metzger stated. “The undead roaming the halls have been that way a day or two. Short of some kind of thermal imaging from the air, I’m not sure how you’d expect to find them.”

  “And you think they laid out their entire diabolical plan to your friend?” one of the Marines asked skeptically.

  “I’ve seen stranger things,” Metzger replied, standing to see if the nearby faucet functioned well enough to get Molly a glass of water.

  Well water couldn’t be trusted in certain locations, but Metzger felt reasonably certain the school tapped into the township’s water supply. He found a glass, and the water from the faucet wasn’t discolored or full of particles when he poured it, so he walked it over to the group. Molly seemed to be coming to, shaking her head, not particularly fazed by six men standing around her.

  “What happened?” Metzger asked, handing her the glass, which she readily accepted.

  After downing nearly half the glass, Molly looked to the only familiar face, addressing him directly.

  “After you left, they managed to poison our food supply with whatever agent killed people in the explosions,” she said. “By the time I figured it out, it was too late, and everyone was sick.”

  “Why didn’t you get sick?” Bryce asked, openly trying to conceal his doubts.

  “Because the kindly, trusted member of my group who brought my meals to me was the mole for Xavier and his people. They made sure I didn’t get sick and die because they wanted to make an example of me. By the time I figured out their scheme, everyone else was too sick to put up a fight.”

  “Why didn’t they stay?” Metzger asked. “Why kill everyone and bug out?”

  “I never saw Xavier personally, but they said he was making some migration to see his boss. They were going to follow him in a few days once they had things finished here.”

  “But why come back here at all?” Bryce asked.

  “They’d left documents behind, and they were ordered to retrieve them and leave no survivors. I guess they expected me to starve in due time, so they left me as an example to anyone who tried to take back the school.”

  “This whole thing sounds weird,” one of the Marines commented.

  “These guys are assholes,” Metzger said. “They have no regard for anyone outside of their group. They made this place their fort because Nadeau gave them a heads up about the results of his chemical bombs.”

  “Who’s Nadeau?” Molly questioned.

  “Long story,” Metzger said, offering her a hand to help her to her feet.

  She accepted, finishing the water before standing in place momentarily, as though uncertain her legs could carry her very far.

  “Did they get all of the papers they came for?” Bryce asked.

  “They got most of them,” Molly answered, but her face didn’t express regret, anger, or shame.

  Metzger spotted a gleam in her eye, and he knew her fighting spirit and instincts had discovered something that might help the group and get their mission on track again.

  “What they didn’t know, was that I read their papers in full and replaced them just in case I was being watched.”

  “Not everyone here was trustworthy?” Metzger inquired.

  “I didn’t know most of these people,” Molly answered, a bitter tone entering her voice. “From the start I knew there could be at least one spy in this camp, and I was right to think so.”

  “Did the papers hold anything useful?” Bryce asked, openly considering the situation hurried.

  “Molly, meet my impatient brother, Bryce,” Metzger said, introducing them as Molly provided a weak, but genuine smile.

  “You found him.”

  “I found him,” Metzger said warmly, not worried about macho pretense despite the rugged military men behind him. “And we came back here because we have some answers. We’re hoping maybe you can help us fill in some of the gaps.”

  “These people knew this was coming,” Molly said angrily, speaking of the heartless thugs who took over the school and murdered Donald and Connie Metzger.

  “I know,” Metzger said. “The guy who did this was connected. And rich.”

  “The assholes who left me for dead are heading to meet him,” Molly stated. “I got the impression from the paperwork that there are hoops for them to jump through, but they’re going to ask him for refuge.”

  “I wonder how benevolent he’ll be if his location could be compromised,” Bryce questioned aloud.

  “If you want answers to any of your questions, we need to get to St. Catharines before they meet the middleman,” Molly suggested.

  “In Canada,” Metzger said, familiar with the Canadian city just across the border directly west from Buffalo.

  “We can’t go trudging into Canada,” one of the Marines stated.

  “What’s going to stop us?” Metzger questioned. “There aren’t exactly enforced borde
rs, or people guarding them.”

  “Our mission was to come here and dig up answers. This could be a wild goose chase, or a trap, and if we cross into Canada, unguarded or not, there’s no one coming to bail our asses out of trouble.”

  “Our mission is to find the man responsible for the end of the world,” Bryce argued. “If we don’t intercept them at this rendezvous point, it could take years to find another clue about their whereabouts. I’m not letting this slip away, and your job is to keep me safe while I conduct this investigation.”

  “Your investigation doesn’t mean a thing if none of us survive to tell the tale.”

  “Boys,” Molly interjected, getting her second wind after a moment’s rest and the glass of water, “they already have a head start, and may very well already be in St. Catharines by now. If we’re lucky, they’re spending the night there, and we may catch up with them, but I can promise you this is a one-time chance.”

  None of the Marines spoke as their eyes glanced back and forth between one another. They seemed undecided about which orders to follow, regarding their general orders to check the school, or new orders to proceed into Canadian territory. Military tradition indicated the decision fell upon the senior officer present, in this case the lieutenant commander, but the Marines didn’t appear to interpret the orders the same as Bryce.

  “How many family members do you have left?” Molly asked the Marine who verbally objected.

  “None that I’m aware of,” he answered, a perplexed look crossing his face. “Why?”

  “So, you’re willing to let the man who basically murdered your loved ones get away with it because you refuse to interpret your original orders differently?”

  Licking his lips in thought, the Marine didn’t know exactly how to answer.

  “This is on me,” Bryce said before any of them could answer. “I interpret our orders as find this son-of-a-bitch and get some answers. If you’re willing to risk your lives a little farther, we can find these assholes and bring answers back to Virginia. In the scheme of how things stand, I’d say we’ll be heroes if we help find Nadeau. He’s the biggest at-large bad guy since bin Laden.”