The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  Now Jillian understood how the woman’s group treated Vazquez once they stole him away from his familiar group.

  She wasn’t sure if Dark Lady stayed due to her stubborn nature, or because of the injuries to her people, but Jillian hadn’t softened on her stance regarding her group. She wanted them gone, dead if necessary, because they supported Frost, even after what he did to that poor little girl in South Hill. Luke had filled her in about how the man met his end, which Jillian considered further evidence that he wanted inappropriate relationships with children.

  Since sending Sutton packing, Jillian hadn’t thought about him much, or where she might want to travel after she concluded her business in South Hill. Staying in the town might have been a realistic option if not for the deaths of her parents. She couldn’t envision herself waking each morning with her first thoughts being how her folks were buried down the road.

  During the day, several times over, she considered backing down from her plan, but Jillian kept reminding herself that these people condoned fondling a child, and they murdered Vazquez without provocation. In fact, his body was still visible in the yard where they continued to sit, stand watch, and tend to their wounded. Jillian watched Dark Lady take time to address each of them in turn through her binoculars, admiring how the woman cared for each of them, despite her twisted actions around other people.

  With only her thoughts to keep her company, Jillian reflected on how her group changed from Buffalo to Virginia. They lost Albert, Luke’s partner, before Metzger departed when they reached the base in Norfolk. Vazquez’s death proved senseless in her mind, because he wasn’t the kind of man who sought to harm anyone. As for Sutton, Jillian felt justified in her decision to excommunicate him from their group, because she couldn’t take another incident where he nearly cost them their lives through being overly assertive, or not following through on his promises.

  Holding the binoculars in her left hand and a .40 caliber pistol in the other, Jillian whirled around when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She found Luke crouched above her, staying concealed as best he could.

  “We got what you wanted,” he reported. “It took most of the day, but we got just over two dozen loaded up.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “They’re parked where that crazy soldier guy blew up the vehicle.”

  “Good,” Jillian said, looking to the sky, which began to show light from the impending dawn. “No better time than the present.”

  She walked with Luke to the car he’d parked nearby.

  “Where’s Samantha?”

  “I left her with Gracine,” Luke answered. “She’s taken a shine to her lately.”

  “But Gracine isn’t the one she’s started calling ‘Dad’.”

  Luke’s face reddened from being put on the spot.

  “I think it’s a little premature, but I’ll accept the responsibility.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “I just wish Albert was here to guide me along. He was always the one who knew what to do, and didn’t buckle under pressure.”

  “His entire career was based on being cool under pressure,” Jillian said as she reached the passenger door and opened it. “Think of this as living up to your potential and honoring his memory.”

  Appearing only partially contented with that thought, Luke opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Watching over her keeps me going,” he admitted once they were both seated in the car. “That being said, I’m going to admit I’m not thrilled about involving her in this, Jillian.”

  “None of you will be involved,” Jillian said. “I can handle the legwork myself.”

  “I don’t like seeing you act this dark,” Luke admitted, starting the car. “You’re going to have to live with this the rest of your life.”

  “These people are a cancer, Luke. I’m not saying that because of their chosen occupation, or what they did to Juan. Even before the apocalypse they caused trouble wherever they went, and the world is currently giving them a pass to do whatever they want, to whomever they chose. It needs to end here.”

  Luke drove her back to the group where Jillian spied a large pickup truck with a horse trailer hitched behind it. She stepped out, immediately hearing the groans and wails of the undead as they tried reaching through the openings to grab at anyone nearby. Odors of fecal matter, urine, and the decay of the dead reached her nostrils the moment she got downwind of the trailer. Examining the trailer as she approached it, she counted more than two dozen undead trapped inside, waiting for their time to walk freely again in search of prey.

  Their wait was nearly over.

  “We gathered them, just like you asked,” Gracine said, shielding Samantha from seeing the undead or stepping too close to the trailer. “What now?”

  “Now I drive this over there and take care of the problem once and for all.”

  “Have you pulled a trailer before, or opened the door on one?” Driscoll asked. “Both can be a little tricky if you haven’t.”

  “It can’t be that hard,” Jillian responded, having driven trucks before, and understanding the mechanics of opening a gate.

  “If you’re in a pinch between circus freaks and the dead heads, it would help to have some experience.”

  He spent a few minutes going over some tips about how to turn the trailer, and how to undo the latch in the back without getting it caught or stuck under pressure from the structural frame.

  “You shouldn’t do this alone,” he said once they completed the tutorial and returned to the group.

  “He’s right,” Gracine added. “We haven’t gotten this far by being rogues.”

  “There’s a lot of risk to this,” Jillian said, “and I know you haven’t all been onboard with my plan because it seems callous to sic zombies on these people when they’re down. But they didn’t care when they turned Juan into a lawn ornament. They’ll have a fighting chance to run from the undead and leave town. But I have to do this alone. I’m not asking any of you to be part of a plan that may kill people.”

  Gracine handed her a small radio the group had used to lure the undead into the trailer in the first place. The trailer was built with several gaps for cleaning and airflow purposes, which allowed them to set the radio inside without risk to their limbs. Jillian wasn’t sure it served a similar purpose for her, because she needed to throw it to a designated area and wasn’t certain it would survive the impact. As though knowing this, Gracine produced a culinary timer from behind her back, placing it in Jillian’s free hand.

  “Girl, I hope this works, because you only get one shot, and the dead won’t care who they chase around that yard.”

  “It has to work,” Jillian said, partly to assure Gracine of her safety, but also to convince herself the idea wasn’t rash.

  While the others backed off to give her some space, Jillian stuffed a semi-automatic pistol along the small of her back. She made certain the two small knives she’d placed in various parts of her jeans remained intact, because she tried to envision every conceivable issue with her plan from start to finish beforehand. Not only the dead threatened her, but she knew enough of Dark Lady’s camp remained to pose a threat to her and possibly dispatch the dead inside the trailer.

  Tossing the radio and the timer on the seat beside her, Jillian climbed in the truck, started the engine, and gave a quick wave to her comrades before taking a wide turn and heading for the encampment down the road.

  She second-guessed her decision the entire way, wondering if kicking Sutton from the group was a good idea while questioning if her current motivations made her just like him. Stopping short of visible and audible range, of Dark Lady’s location, she set the timer for three minutes, knowing she could turn the dial again for adjustment before throwing it at her targets if necessary.

  A nagging feeling that something was destined to go w
rong tugged at her reasoning, so she checked her weaponry one last time before hitting the gas and heading for the residence Dark Lady and her people called home.

  She recalled the layout of the neighborhood, knowing fences surrounded quite a few of the houses, but Jillian also knew the fence along the one side of the property had been compromised. Ideally, she would back the truck and trailer up to the opening and release the zombies into an area where they would be basically herded into the yard. Backing up would take too long, and she needed at least a little element of surprise for her plan to work.

  Surveying the area from the driver’s seat, which sat higher than most, Jillian plotted a course quickly as she drew near the houses, knowing at least a few of Dark Lady’s people heard the truck’s approach. Instead of trying to finesse the truck and trailer perfectly in the yard, she barreled through the neighboring yard, pulling past the compromised fence, knocking down another section of fencing that wasn’t attached to Dark Lady’s encampment. Trying to judge by sight in the rearview mirror, Jillian got the trailer reasonably close to the fence opening. She jumped from the driver’s seat after snatching the kitchen timer, hitting the ground running.

  Stealing a glance as she ran to the back of the trailer, which ended up being just a few feet from the fence opening, Jillian saw several pairs of eyes looking her way. Several of them attempted to gain their footing, or reach for weapons, so she hurried in her effort to undo the latch on the trailer. She dropped the timer as the latch required both hands to pull, and unfortunately for her, it began ringing, stirring the dead trapped within the makeshift prison. Managing to yank the latch open with one swift pull, Jillian swung the door wide, trapped between the opening where Dark Lady’s people angrily approached her, and the dead staggering out of the trailer behind her.

  Taking a quick, deep breath, she bent down to pick up the timer and darted through the fence opening where the eyes staring at her grew fearful when they saw the army behind her. Some of them possessed injuries from the rocket launcher blast, unable to easily scurry into the house, or jump the fence surrounding the house to safety. Jillian threw the timer directly in the middle of their group, ducking to the right behind the fence so the undead didn’t focus on her, as they often seemed distracted by movement.

  Skirting along the inside of the fence, Jillian intended to make her way to the back, undetected by the zombies, before jumping over and making an exit. She glanced back once, seeing none of the undead staring her way, because movement from Dark Lady’s people, along with the blaring timer, kept their attention. She made her way to the far corner, attempted to scale the wooden fence, and felt a firm hand grasp her belt and pull her back, stripping her of the firearm in the process.

  Jillian felt her back strike the ground forcefully, knocking the wind from her lungs as her assailant mounted her. Her eyes spun momentarily, but when she finally regained her senses, she found him mounting her at the waistline to keep her pinned down as he pulled his belt from the loops in his pants with a yank.

  “It’s time for you to learn a lesson, missy,” he said with a smile that displayed yellow teeth, and particles stuck between them.

  Hearing the screams of a man in the distance, Jillian felt some satisfaction that the undead found their mark on at least one of the unwelcome inhabitants. She heard more panicked yells in the distance as she reached for the knife along the right side of her blue jeans, requiring the man atop her to move his own leg just slightly so she could slide it out without notice.

  “Shouldn’t you be helping your friends?” she asked as she struggled against him with her left hand, keeping his eyes and hands occupied as he shoved back.

  “They’ll fend for themselves,” he said, slapping her across the face with force enough to nearly knock her unconscious, giving him time to unbutton and unzip his pants.

  Jillian couldn’t see his underwear very well, but from the appearance and odor of the rest of the man, she envisioned them being yellow and grungy. She struggled to keep her consciousness and focus, and when the man went to pull down his pants, she freed the blade from her jeans and thrust it upward, toward the side of his neck.

  Unfortunately for her, the man saw her move from the corner of his eye and blocked most of it with his elbow, receiving only a bloody scratch for his trouble. Jillian struggled as he pried the knife from her fingers, tossing it far enough away that she didn’t have a prayer of recovering it. Her gun also remained too far out of reach to be of any use, and for a moment she prayed one of the undead would stagger her way, rather than let this man rape her during what she hoped to be her moment of triumph when Dark Lady’s crew left South Hill forever.

  Jillian continued to struggle, hearing gunfire in the background. She assumed it was Dark Lady’s people fighting back, but she was forced to focus on the man pinning her to the ground, beginning to undo her jeans with a delighted, fiendish smile. Not a complete simpleton, but not moral enough to keep his desires in check, the man openly grew excited at the prospect of having his way with Jillian.

  When he lifted one of her hands, Jillian managed to bite one of his fingers, despite the putrid taste, and received a slap for her trouble. Her resistance served only to excite him even more, making him more aggressive in his efforts. Laying his torso atop hers, he kept her still while his hands reached back, working on undoing her jeans once again. Jillian felt her pants, and her last knife, slipping away from her desperate fingers with each gentle tug as she struggled to draw breaths with his weight bearing down on her.

  She felt a tear begin to form in the corner of her eye, because the outside world, and the events surrounding her, felt as though they were slipping further away and she was trapped in absolute isolation with this despicable man. Jillian bought time by trying to strike him with her fists, but he simply pinned her to the ground and punched her in the face this time, causing her to see stars.

  Her left hand groped for the last remaining knife in her pants, and she attempted to contort her body to reach it, but his weight kept her from stretching far enough. She was about to give up all hope when she heard a female voice behind her address the man.

  “Hey, asshole,” Gracine said, drawing the man’s attention before firing a bullet into his right shoulder.

  As he recoiled, Jillian managed to reach just far enough to grasp the blade and swing it upward into his exposed neck. The blade struck its mark, causing the carotid artery to spurt blood from the right side of the man’s neck as he gurgled until his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over.

  Jillian quickly stood, zipped up her pants, and collected her weapons as she and Gracine assessed the scene before them.

  “You came?” she asked of Gracine, somewhat surprised the group didn’t honor her request.

  “You really think we were going to leave you here with these freaks by yourself?”

  Most of the undead began heading for the house, where the remaining members of Dark Lady’s group sought shelter. Most of the zombies filed through the open sliding door, but a few turned to see the women chatting, and staggered in their direction. Gracine walked up to deal with them using her knife, while Jillian used one of her blades to jab the fallen member of the circus group in the skull, making certain he couldn’t reanimate.

  And partly out of spite.

  “Where is everyone else?” she asked when she and Gracine locked eyes once again.

  “They’re out front, backing me up and making sure the circus people don’t escape. That was a bad ass plan you had by the way.”

  “Thanks. It almost backfired though.”

  Jillian wished she knew the extent of the injuries to Dark Lady’s people, but her preoccupation with avoiding a bodily violation kept her from observing her surroundings. Momentarily they heard gunfire in front of the house, likely meaning her allies cut off Dark Lady’s people from making a hasty escape. The best their adversaries might hope for was locking
themselves inside a bedroom, holing up against the numerous undead.

  Two bodies were lying in the yard, indicating only a few men remained to protect Dark Lady. Chances were good that they suffered bites or other injuries trying to escape the invading dead, and Jillian didn’t want to prolong the skirmish between the two factions any longer.

  “I say we burn the place down,” she suggested as Gracine stood beside her.

  “You sure? This is your home.”

  “The sooner we end this, the better. They either burn or they run.”

  “Okay,” Gracine said with a turn of her head before heading to the front yard.

  A few minutes later the group found adequate materials to light a small torch on fire, which they planned to throw into the far bedroom window. Although they couldn’t see what happened inside the house, they conjured a few good guesses, most of which placed the survivors isolated in one room or another. Any fire would produce smoke, and either the heat or smoke would eventually chase the living from the house, or into the arms of the undead.

  All of them stood in the front yard, and Driscoll held the small, makeshift torch in his right hand. It remained unlit, and everyone stalled as though waiting for someone to make the morally objectionable call.

  “If any of them were bit, they’d eventually die and turn,” Luke said. “They’re probably doomed whether we do this or not.”

  “This does seem a little Old Testament,” Gracine acknowledged, agreeing with Luke. “We aren’t cold-blooded killers.”

  Jillian looked to Driscoll, who simply stood there holding the torch, openly unsure of what to think. He possessed little emotional tie to the situation, or his new group for that matter. He hadn’t given Jillian a reason not to trust him, but his former allegiances made him a sketchy character in her eyes. She supposed some people simply carried out dark necessities to survive the apocalypse.