The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  Metzger dove into the hallway behind him as bullets fired in his direction, none striking him as Fournier likely couldn’t see very well in the darkness as his body blocked much of the exterior lighting. Hearing the door open a second time, Metzger stayed low, sticking his head around the corner to find Fournier darting outside. Caught between immediately pursuing the man and risking his life to do so, Metzger dashed for the door, still holding his firearm, and bursting through the metal barricade where he kept running in case he was targeted.

  No one fired at him, and Metzger quickly gained his bearings, seeing the man hadn’t yet reached the corner of the building. He darted in Fournier’s direction, seeing zombies entering the alley around him, but Metzger was able to dodge them without them laying a finger on him because they focused on, and turned to Fournier once he sped past them. Unsure of how much longer his stamina could hold out, he followed the man into the main streets once more, trying to keep pace.

  He got to the end of the block, realizing Fournier was nearly a block ahead of him now, and he began to think the leader of evil men might escape once again. As Fournier reached the next block, however, about to turn to the right in another attempt to lose Metzger, a fist appeared from behind the building at the corner and clocked Fournier squarely in the jaw, dropping him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  Finishing his sprint at that exact spot, Metzger found his brother and Molly standing over the unconscious Fournier, smirking at him.

  “You two suck,” he commented.

  “Thanks for flushing him out of hiding,” Bryce replied. “We didn’t know where you two got to.”

  “We played a little hide-and-seek inside a large business office.”

  “Well, he belongs to us now,” Bryce said, openly happy at the prospect of a successful mission. “I think we caught a few of his buddies, too.”

  Several zombies staggered in their direction, attracted by the noise of footsteps and multiple gunshots. Metzger holstered his firearm, instinctively drawing the sword to deal with the threat silently, rather than attract more danger.

  “Get him back to the vehicles,” Metzger said, turning around just long enough to utter the words. “I’ll deal with this.”

  He went to work, slicing through several skulls, all the while thinking that he couldn’t wait to get answers from the men they captured at the compound. With the element of surprise, any number of maps, plans, and weaponry might await them inside the converted building.

  Hopefully the answers would lead to the man responsible for the apocalypse.

  Nineteen

  One Month Earlier

  As though Velvet Markle didn’t have enough worries after losing most of her business contacts, the apocalypse transformed her into a caregiver. Her sister, Harriet, a few years younger than Velvet, barely took care of herself before the world fell apart. A diabetic since her teens, she constantly allowed her blood sugar to bottom out, and seeing a fire truck or ambulance at her house wasn’t an unusual sight for her neighbors.

  Sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, Velvet felt the pressure of caring for her sister, both in food supply and managing her diabetes. When Harriet remained conscious, making her something to eat, or giving her something sugary to keep her blood sugar elevated wasn’t difficult, but when she bottomed out, the task felt nearly impossible. Dangerously close to unconsciousness during these times, Harriet struggled to eat or drink because her body began to shut down, meaning rudimentary tasks might become monumental.

  Whenever the medics came by, they checked her blood sugar, and when it proved too low for her to recover on her own, they put a needle in her arm. Attached to a tube that provided fluids and liquid sugar, the needle gave her body a temporary boost in glucose levels. A few minutes later, Harriet came to, sometimes thanking them, and sometimes questioning how she fell into such a state. Today she remained conscious and alert, but too weak to get herself out of bed due to other health concerns.

  Although Velvet knew the procedure well, and she’d dabbled with the needle personally, the means to provide her sister artificial sugar ran low in the world outside of their simple home.

  “You need to leave this place,” Harriet told her sister as Velvet dabbed her forehead with a damp cloth. “Your other family needs you.”

  She spoke of Velvet’s other life, her business, and her lifeblood that recently took a downturn, even before the apocalypse.

  “You’re my blood,” Velvet answered softly. “I’m not going to leave you.”

  “Dear sister, you’ve practically handcuffed yourself to my bed this past week. I see what’s going on out there, and it isn’t getting any better.”

  One look outside the window revealed anywhere from three to a dozen zombies depending on the time of day. Velvet knew from the early news reports how to deal with them, but even the media outlets left her in her time of need, much like the rest of her biological family.

  “I’m sixty-years-old,” Harriet said tenderly, barely above a whisper. “I’ve lived a good life.”

  “It’s not your time,” Velvet replied with genuine compassion. “We can get through this.”

  Harriet appeared disappointed, not because of her condition, or any self-pity, but because she knew her older sister wouldn’t abandon her.

  “Where are your people?” she finally asked, referring to Velvet’s employees in her transient line of work. They went from town to town, setting up rides, booths, and tents for a week before moving to the next location.

  When their father passed away, he willed his business to both daughters, and Velvet bought her sister’s half because she didn’t want the employees being displaced. Harriet showed no real interest in travel, and her condition made it difficult to leave the house some days. She kept the house, which included land enough to store the rides, booths, and other items for the traveling carnival during the colder months. Velvet already possessed her own small house just down the road, and they worked out an agreement to leave the rides on her father’s old property.

  In truth, Velvet supposed her sister wanted visitors, and to be checked on regularly, because she sometimes slipped, forgetting to take her insulin when needed, or check her blood sugar before bedtime.

  “They’re safe,” Velvet said of her employees. “I found most of them and got them to a storage facility. We found enough food and supplies to keep them going for a while.”

  “Go to them. I’ll be okay.”

  Velvet gave a soft smile, and both of them knew her sister’s statement wasn’t true.

  “At least go and get yourself something to eat. Check on your other family. I’ll be just fine for a few hours.”

  “Can I get you any soup, or something to drink before I go?” Velvet asked, conceding that she needed a break from the humdrum life at the house.

  Her duties grew more difficult when the house lost power after a few days, meaning everything in the refrigerator either spoiled or reached room temperature. Heating and cooling weren’t an issue in early September, but Velvet questioned how to keep her sister safe with only two firearms in the house and limited ammunition.

  A .22 pistol and a shotgun belonged to her father, who passed away nearly five years earlier. Harriet kept most of the handed down belongings at her house, since Velvet worked on the road so often. Any hope of the overall situation getting better faded with each passing day as more undead roamed the fields near their rural Virginia home.

  “What are you going to do about Audie?” Harriet inquired from her bed. “He doesn’t belong in that jail.”

  “Those people in South Hill accused him of touching that girl,” Velvet said angrily. “That poor boy don’t know no better.”

  “If things are as bad as they seem, the people in charge might let everyone in that jail starve in their cells. Whether he did something or not, that poor child is lost among those killers and thieves
.”

  “He didn’t do nothin’,” Velvet spat emphatically. “Those simple townsfolk made something up so they could kick us out of town.”

  Intense media coverage over a statement Velvet felt certain a little girl made up in the first place took a toll on her business. Towns began canceling their services when they found other carnival ride operators and food vendors. Financially, Velvet got by just fine, but she worried about her workers who didn’t exactly have other job skills or education to land other work. Audie Frost lived a difficult life from childhood, possessing large facial birthmarks that most people mistook for scars or severe burns due to their deep redness when compared to his pale white skin and icy blue eyes.

  He often concealed his facial features as best he could with makeup, baseball caps, or masks when Velvet found parts he could play in haunted houses or other attractions. Although capable of speaking, Frost typically remained silent with his self-esteem at rock bottom. Everyone who worked with him protected him and took him in, even after the accusations of him inappropriately touching a child.

  “You need to see them,” Harriet insisted. “It’s been two days now, and you need a break from me.”

  “Let me fix you a peanut butter sandwich first.”

  “No,” Harriet said, waving off the notion. “You’ve already made lunch and checked my sugar. I’m not going to crash while you’re gone.”

  “What about those things outside?” Velvet questioned. “Or worse, intruders. People are doing whatever it takes to eat and take shelter.”

  “Then load the guns and leave them beside me,” Harriet suggested. “I know how to use them, and I’ll know if someone other than you comes through that door.”

  Velvet leaned over, kissing her sister on the forehead.

  “Fine. You win, but I won’t be long. I’m going to start looking for insulin and your testing strips when it’s safe to enter the clinics and pharmacies.”

  “I doubt there’s anything left out there. People like me aren’t built to survive in this kind of world.”

  “Nonsense. You’re going to be fine.”

  Harriet provided a knowing, sad smirk that indicated they both knew such a statement was entirely false.

  “You go and enjoy your other family, Dark Lady. I’ll see you soon.”

  Harriet called her by her work alias, which she used when reading tarot cards or acting in one of the spook house attractions. Her sister brushed her cheek gently with the back of her hand, indicating she appreciated Velvet’s dedication and sacrifice. Each passing year reminded Velvet that her profession waned as families sought other forms of entertainment, including theme parks, time shares, and their phones, which they often appeared glued to.

  Her cards often spoke the truth when turned, and Velvet possessed a sense she considered beyond earthly realms. Some part of her sixth sense placed foreboding within her, as though someone she cared about might be in mortal danger.

  When Velvet went to talk to her employees, who remained loyal to her despite the rest of the world fending for themselves in all sorts of selfish manners, she asked a few of them to scout the jail where Frost was being held by authorities. Tending to her sister and her employees kept Velvet too busy to check on Frost’s status, and she hoped any remaining jailers and deputies might have realized the futility of continuing to work, and abandoned their posts. If Frost were suddenly freed, he most assuredly would have made his way back to their home base, had a feeling of being left and forgotten didn’t overwhelm him.

  Seeing they were all in good health and still had enough to eat, she assured them her next visit wouldn’t take as long, and took a detour on her way home to see about supplies at the two nearby pharmacies. In both places, she needed only take a few steps inside to see undead corpses lining the floor, indicating other desperate people had already raided the stores. All of the canned or packaged goods were gone from the food aisles, and even the bagged items like potato chips and pork rinds appeared all but gone.

  Back in the pharmacy area, several packages of random drugs were lying around, mostly in pill form. No insulin remained in the refrigerated areas, and even the varied forms like cartridges and pens weren’t anywhere Velvet looked in either store. She didn’t expect fruitful results, and she had personally gone through several stores earlier in the apocalypse, scoring her sister some supplies to tide her over.

  Disappointed, she drove to her sister’s house, turning into the driveway to find a disturbing scene in the front yard. Several undead staggered around, some covered in blood, and behind them, half a dozen bodies were lying completely still along the grass and dirt. Fearing an attack on the house, Velvet jumped from her old truck, drawing a knife from her side, stabbing each zombie furiously in the skull, downing them one at a time without much consideration of her own safety.

  Seeing the front door to the house swung inward, Velvet felt her heart sink, knowing her sister wouldn’t be able to defend herself very well, if at all.

  She began running to the front door for a look inside when movement from the corner of her right eye caused her to freeze in her tracks.

  “No,” Velvet muttered, seeing a reanimating corpse sit up from the bloodied grass, staring straight ahead momentarily until her head turned to the left.

  Blood covered Harriet’s body, and her entrails dripped from her lower torso where other undead had feasted on her body after undoubtedly taking her down like lions hunting a gazelle. Unable to clearly think momentarily, she thought back to her sister’s state of mind, feeling reasonably certain Harriet grabbed the guns and went on a kamikaze mission, taking down as many as she could, knowing full well she wouldn’t survive the ordeal.

  Time stood still a moment as their eyes locked, and Harriet’s had turned a pale, lifeless blueish color because her body stopped producing pigment for their natural hazel color. Velvet knew no human portion of her sister remained, but thoughts of stabbing a loved one in the head haunted her before she even took one step forward. Harriet’s eyes didn’t blink, and her walk appeared like more of a stagger because her intestines continued to fall out and trip her up with each arduous step. As her body reeled and returned, somewhat like a serpent coiling to find an attack position, Harriet revealed more damage to her body in the form of random bite marks and chunks of her flesh and tissue missing. Only the sound of rustling leaves broke the silence in the yard as the two sisters shared a parting moment on their property.

  “Oh, no,” Velvet said, a tear forming in one eye as her sister opened her mouth and gave a throaty hiss in return.

  Backing away, she couldn’t bring herself to stab her sister in the skull like the other zombies lying at her feet. Part of her wanted to lead her sister into the house to lock her inside, but she quickly dismissed the thought as irrational. Finishing her sister off made the land safer for anyone else crossing the yard, but Velvet wasn’t sure she cared about other people at the moment. She simply got into the truck, closed the door, and rolled up the window as Harriet placed bloody hands on the glass, pawing like a hamster wanting out of its clear habitat.

  Instead, she wanted in.

  Safe from the horrors of the outdoors, both in sight and sound because she lowered her head to sob, Velvet ultimately cried herself dry until her chest hurt and her nose ran. Instinct finally kicked in, and she began to weigh her options. Her frugal nature, and the fact that her other family needed assistance spoke to her, saying she needed to get inside the house and grab any remaining food, weapons, and supplies. The bond with her sister, formed over six decades, told her to leave the property and never look back if possible. Harriet would be someone else’s problem, and if she needed to return to the house again, her undead sister would likely be miles down the road.

  Refusing to look at her sister as she backed out of the driveway, Velvet knew she needed to gather her other family and begin to make a stand in the apocalypse. Harriet sacrificed h
er own life to free Velvet, and Velvet knew in the new order she would cut ties with her old life, becoming her stage persona full-time to bury her feelings, and the past.

  ***

  Her first order of business was to free Frost from the satellite jail location in Mecklenburg County. While the main location held nearly seven-hundred prisoners, the satellite location housed under one-hundred. Ironically, the so-called satellite location was located adjacent to the sheriff’s office, while the main jail sat halfway across the county. Very contemporary, with bricks lining the lower half, and red painted upper portions, the smaller jail looked more like a youth detention center than a jail.

  She last saw him when the apocalypse set in, granted visitation when everyone thought the initial crisis might end in a few days. Even then, a certain tension ran through the building, and she noticed fewer staff than usual, as though a blue flu might have struck the jailers, because something pressing kept them away from work.

  Her extended family now consisted of seven men, not including Frost. Some of the men who originally traveled with her, and the four women who helped sell tickets or operate booths, left her operation to return to their families or find shelter when the world fell apart. Her loyal followers accompanied her to the Meherrin River Regional Jail where, after little more than a week of chaos throughout the world, the property appeared in shambles.

  Two overturned patrol cars, white with gold and red trim, adorned the front of the building. One remained teetering on one side, while the other rested on its lightbar, the roof crushed slightly inward. A few unanimated bodies lay nearby, and a half dozen zombies staggered around the front of the facility, which didn’t possess guard towers or even tall fences to keep people out. Velvet knew the layout from previous visits, and she came prepared with her crew of seven, bringing a tow truck and a van they sometimes used for transportation of their crew.

  Her boys, as she affectionately referred to them, jumped out of the van and dealt with any zombies before hooking up some chains to the front doors of the facility to yank them off the hinges. She planned on dealing with each layer of the facility individually, knowing security would either be light, or nonexistent, and walls of any kind could eventually be breached with a little knowhow and some heavy equipment.