The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  “Have your gun ready,” he instructed Molly just above a whisper, knowing he couldn’t light the way and draw weapons at a moment’s notice.

  “Already do,” she answered.

  Metzger made three more turns before he discovered the tunnel met up with another opening, which he assumed was the other bedroom’s tunnel from the same side of the house. Not once had he heard a peep from the military men, and he began questioning his decision to take a separate route. Safety concerns didn’t weigh on his mind, but rather the notion that chose incorrectly, or worse, picked a dead-end the workers hadn’t finished.

  Although the journey felt like half a mile, Metzger didn’t imagine they were incredibly far from the original house, and once the two tunnels merged, he saw a hatch or door at the end of the path.

  “There’s an exit ahead,” he informed Molly, still tugging lightly on her arm so she didn’t get disoriented in the dark behind him.

  He reached what looked like a half door, and Metzger needed to crouch just to get to its level. With no handle to pull, he gave it a push and quickly surmised the door pushed outward only. Likely a security measure to keep the undead or animals from entering, the hatch appeared spring-loaded to snap shut once he and Molly passed through it to a small room with a ladder leading about six feet upward. Metzger shut off the tiny flashlight and pocketed it for safekeeping. Above them, daylight pierced a heavy screen that once covered a square opening, but now looked tossed hurriedly to one side. Metzger’s heart raced as he realized someone had used the tunnel just before them and escaped to the vast outdoors.

  Molly noticed it, too, and urged him to ascend the ladder with a nod when he looked to her.

  “Kick his ass.”

  Metzger adeptly climbed the ladder, shoved the screen aside, and felt his feet hit solid ground as he surveyed each direction around him, seeing no sign of his brother or the Marines. In the distance, however, he spotted a man running as hard as a person could toward the nearby bridge, and beyond it, the city.

  “Shit,” Metzger muttered, before turning to Molly, who climbed the ladder behind him. “I’m going to follow him into the city. Send help when you find the others.”

  “You got it,” Molly replied, not volunteering to come with him, because the pace already appeared grueling and she hadn’t recovered from her ordeal at the school.

  With a gun at his side, and a short sword strapped to the pack on his back, Metzger took off in a dead sprint behind the man, who had nearly a quarter mile lead on him along open ground. Beyond the bridge he saw the safety that the small Canadian city offered the man he assumed was Xavier Fournier. He figured Fournier didn’t know the layout of the city, despite being Canadian, but hundreds of buildings offering sanctuary to anyone willing to brave the undead masses that likely lingered along the streets.

  If Metzger lost sight of him beyond the city limits, Fournier was as good as free, for what little good it did the man without aid, manpower, or a place to call his base of operations.

  Picking up his pace, he could only hope something slowed Fournier before the man reached the heart of St. Catharines.

  ***

  Bryce felt terrible about helping slam his brother to the ground, but he maintained his grouping with the Marines, who possessed firearms and their attached flashlights. Only his familiarity with the house and the property allowed the gatekeeper who answered the door a head start down a tunnel in the first right side bedroom of the house.

  One of the Marines caught the man, pinned him to the ground, and subdued him within seconds of his boots hitting the dirt floor below the bedroom. Bryce carried on behind the remaining Marines, who continued the search without having many facts. They had seen that Fournier didn’t answer the door, and Bryce’s brother wouldn’t have signaled for assistance if only one man opposed him.

  Following the men single file further into the underground lair, Bryce couldn’t see very well because he didn’t have a flashlight attached to his rifle, and the beams ahead of him kept bouncing up and down as the Marines raced down the narrow passageway. It looked exactly like the television shows and movies where the camera followed the action, never capturing much detail because it bobbed up and down so often. He fought to surge ahead too quickly, worried he might bump into one of the men ahead of him and cause a chain reaction of them tumbling to the ground.

  Keeping his rifle pointed safely to his side, Bryce decided to maintain contact with the man ahead of him by pressing his left palm against the man’s back. When the Marines made several turns he followed them, eventually taking note that their tunnel met up with another underground system. Seeing what he thought might be daylight ahead of them, he heard the Marines shout orders and dash down the tunnel. Almost left behind, Bryce managed to keep pace, stopping short of the room where the three men pulled a man off the ladder, hurling him to the ground before one of the Marines scrambled upward to check for any additional escapees.

  “Stay down!” one of the Marines ordered the man plucked from the ladder.

  “Not our target,” Bryce said after one look at the man’s face. “But he’s still got information we need.”

  Clamoring up the ladder, Bryce found the Marine who went before him chasing down another man into the woods behind the house. He took a moment to look for any other activity, but the house itself blocked his view of the front yard. Unable to spot additional activity, or his brother, Bryce followed the Marine who chased the man through the lightly wooded area behind the house. Eventually the young Marine, in peak physical condition, caught up with the last known suspect, tackling him to the ground.

  Although this man wasn’t in excellent cardiovascular condition, he proved to be a larger man than any of the military men pursuing him. He immediately turned around, punching the Marine across the jaw before Bryce noticed the impending scuffle, stopping it before it truly began by jumping on the man’s chest and pinning him to the ground so the Marine could draw a plastic tie from his gun belt.

  “Let me go!” the larger man protested from beneath Bryce’s weight. “I ain’t got nothin’ in this!”

  He sounded distinctly American, almost from a southern state based on Bryce’s experience in the Navy, working with men and women from every region of the United States.

  “Where are you from?” he asked the man without giving the notion much thought.

  “None of ur fuckin’ business.”

  Bryce delivered a swift elbow to the man’s jaw, partially as retaliation for being so difficult, but also to subdue him long enough for the Marine to secure his wrists with the plastic tie. The man groaned, still not being cooperative as he struggled against the two of them, despite lacking functional use of his hands.

  One of the other Marines joined them, looking directly to Bryce.

  “The woman says she and your brother chased another man through another set of tunnels and your brother is chasing that man into the downtown district on foot.”

  “Fuck,” Bryce muttered. “That has to be our guy.”

  “Want us to load up and pursue him?”

  “No,” Bryce said, thinking aloud. “We have three prisoners already. I’ll take Molly with me and we’ll find him. If you’re able to load these sons-of-bitches into the vehicles, feel free to back us up.”

  “The woman is up front,” the Marine said, refusing to call her by name for some reason.

  “Thanks.”

  Bryce ran around the house, rather than returning to the tunnels without the benefit of a flashlight. He entered through the front, finding a concerned Molly standing in the main room.

  “We took another set of tunnels but the guy had a head start on us,” she said.

  “That’s fine,” Bryce said. “Are you well enough to come with me?”

  “I can tough it out. We need to find this guy.”

  “Agreed.”

  Bryce walked
outside first, still holding his rifle, making room for Molly to step past him and lead the way. She gave a nod and pointed to an area across the bridge where neither the man, nor Bryce’s younger brother, were visible.

  Running into the heart of a city, even a smaller city by comparison, brought about challenges, which included navigation, the undead, and worse, survivors.

  ***

  Metzger reached the edge of the city where he’d maintained visual contact with Fournier the entire time, but when the man found an opportunity to change direction, he turned left at a city block. Metzger followed, less than a block’s distance behind the man now, finding him running along some restaurants and banks that looked worse than abandoned buildings in the world before the apocalypse.

  What he termed ‘zombie dust’ covered everything from vehicles to buildings and signs as dead skin flakes floated freely through the air from the undead. Virtually everything walking upright was dead, meaning any breeze carried the skin cells through the air until they found somewhere to land, and no shortage of flakes existed.

  Immediately spying the danger of running into the city, Metzger noticed several zombies milling around the streets, taking notice of two men darting past them. They growled and hissed at Fournier, but most of them turned their attention to Metzger before he reached them. Barely slowing his run, he drew his sword by reaching his hand over his shoulder, and sliced both of them through the skulls without slowing down. He consciously made the decision not to use his bladed weapon on Fournier. The man held answers the group so desperately needed, and murdering the man by slicing him open, or poisoning his bloodstream with contaminated zombie innards, would certainly thwart any future plans of interrogating him.

  Both Fournier and Metzger began to tire, and both knew they needed a little reserve in their stamina to deal with undead adversaries. At the next intersection, Fournier nearly got taken down by a zombie, but the lifeless adversary stumbled and fell down atop the concrete instead. Landing on its face, an injury that would stun or bloody a live person, the zombie simply rolled over and took a swipe at Metzger’s foot as he ran past.

  Drawing closer to Fournier, Metzger almost didn’t have time to react when the man stopped, whirled around, and pointed a pistol at him. Metzger ducked into a doorway with matching white pillars as several bullets struck the nearest pillar, splintering it in several places. Daring to peek out, he saw Fournier had already taken off again, but there was only one direction for him to go, so Metzger followed.

  His instincts kicked in, and Metzger knew the gunfire would draw the attention of surrounding zombies. Fournier had put more distance between them, but Metzger hadn’t lost sight of him yet. He watched as the man attempted to bust into an old Burger King, but failed because the doors were secured. Fournier didn’t give up, however, and when he pulled on the doors of a business building across the street, they offered him sanctuary. Metzger watched helplessly as the man slipped inside where three stories and dozens of rooms provided areas in which to hide.

  “Damn,” Metzger muttered, reaching the doors, but not yanking them open.

  He knew pulling the doors would leave him perfectly silhouetted for Fournier to open fire and down him in a heartbeat. Thinking quickly, he found some supplies lying nearby that included a collapsed tent, some blankets, and a backpack. He scooped the backpack off the ground, prepared to use its straps to bind the doors together. Unzipping it, he located some rope among other handy items like bottled water and a satellite phone.

  He tied the two handles of the double doors together with the rope to keep them from opening. Admiring his knot for less than a second, Metzger darted around the right side of the building, which took up half a city block, searching for other exits. Carrying the backpack with him, he remembered that he also possessed a few zip ties gifted to him from the Marines during the flight to New York. A single door fire exit with no exterior knob or handle presented itself along the side of the building. Along the next side, Metzger found more double doors serving as a second entrance to the various businesses inside, teeming with huge windows between metal supports. Suspecting the last side of the building possessed another exit only door, he decided to take action before Fournier discovered an escape route.

  Letting himself inside, Metzger used the ties to create loops along each door handle before binding them together with another tie. With the two main entrances sealed to anyone who didn’t readily have a knife, or sword, to cut them, only two exits remained. Fournier likely possessed a blade, but Metzger was counting on precious seconds it would require to create an escape for an opportunity to pounce.

  He sheathed the sword, and drew his pistol, prepared to subdue Fournier with the means at his disposal. Standing perfectly still a moment, trying in vain to slow his breathing from the long sprint into the city, Metzger held his breath a few seconds, listening intently for any sounds.

  A noise that sounded like furniture being kicked reached his ears, and Metzger couldn’t tell if Fournier lost his way inside the darkened, unpowered building, or if the undead roamed the halls, searching for a warm meal. Some light entered through the main windows, letting Metzger know the building was segmented into separate businesses on each side of the building, and presumably each level. The noise he heard came from his right, which appeared to be some kind of accounting business when money still mattered to people.

  Metzger set the backpack down in a corner so it wasn’t readily visible. He wanted the sat phone from it more than anything, because he wanted to contact his former group if the opportunity arose. Although it didn’t appear to have a charger, he pocketed the phone for safe keeping, knowing some spots where he might find accessories for it later.

  Due to the closed doors, the building appeared mostly unaffected by dust and decay, as though it had simply closed for the weekend. Metzger calmed himself and slowed his breathing, stepping quietly toward the door to the business. He wondered where the two side exit doors were found within the building, hoping Fournier hadn’t already discovered them and fled into the streets. Some relief washed over Metzger, knowing the man wasn’t going to meet up with his hero anytime soon.

  Every few steps, Metzger stopped, listening for additional noise, but nothing reached his ears in the game of cat and mouse. It occurred to him that Fournier might be lying in wait, ready to put a bullet in him for retaliation from the events at the airport. Metzger certainly hadn’t asked for a fight, but he did well when he and his group took down their pursuers. At the time, Metzger thought he landed a headshot on Fournier, but the bullet must have simply grazed the man’s skull.

  Hearing noises from the outside due to the eerily quiet interior, Metzger realized the undead were beginning to scour the area, drawn by the gunfire. Unsure if help was coming his way, or if they could locate him, Metzger stepped forward, warily looking between the businesses located on either side of the wide hallway.

  Made completely of glass, with writing on the doors, each of the businesses provided a clear view inside without Metzger needing to open a door. At each end of the hallway he spotted stairwell access doors and elevators that clearly weren’t going to transport anyone. Avoiding those momentarily, Metzger peered into the business on the left, seeing no activity before he focused his attention on the accounting business where he’d heard the noise less than a minute prior.

  He opened the door carefully, but the hydraulic door spring announced his arrival, much to his dismay. Crouching, he tried reducing his profile while searching the area, but several desks and chairs occupied the space. It looked as though people had started moving furniture with the intention of barricading the business, or the building, but their work came to a sudden halt.

  Ducked behind the desk, Metzger waited patiently for another noise. The undead weren’t adept at stealth, and no sounds of objects being bumped or knocked over reached his ears. Instinct told him Fournier was trapped inside this business with him, but th
e accounting firm consisted of multiple rooms that grew darker the further one got from the main lobby. Metzger couldn’t use his flashlight without giving away his position, and he dared not move until he discovered a clue about Fournier’s whereabouts.

  Concealed by the limited lighting inside the office space, Metzger breathed carefully, waiting until he heard footsteps coming his way before sidestepping from the desk and taking aim at the figure coming his way. He immediately realized his mistake when the adversary hissed at him lurching forward with the intention of taking a bite from whatever piece of his body it could reach.

  Still holding the sidearm, Metzger didn’t want to fire and give away his position to Fournier if the man didn’t already know. He kicked the zombie in the stomach, sending it back where it fell awkwardly to the floor, wasting little time in regaining its footing to pursue him. Metzger began reaching for his sword, but he saw a shadow move too quickly to his right to be a zombie. Fournier was running from him, but trapped within the confines of the accounting firm unless he discovered a side exit.

  Figuring Fournier knew his location, and possibly directed the zombie wearing a tattered suit his way, Metzger raised his right arm, shot the zombie in the head, and walked in the direction where Fournier had run. Darkness followed him the further he walked from the light of the main lobby, and Metzger dared not draw his flashlight. He turned corners and crossed hallways carefully, trying to reduce his profile so Fournier couldn’t simply gun him down. Figuring the man wasn’t a phenomenal shot, because a gunman would have stood his ground and taken careful aim earlier in the pursuit, Metzger still played it safe.

  His decision came easy when he heard the sound of a metal door opening because the noise of someone using the push bar reached his ears and he knew Fournier had located a fire exit. As he rounded the corner, however, he spotted a silhouette in front of the already closing door, realizing the man had tricked him into revealing his location.