Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath

by Chris Philbrook

  They exchanged stories over time, caught up on how things were since the end of the world, and made sure that they were both safe and sound. Brian was concerned for Gilbert because Adrian’s group had been heading into downtown more often and stirring the hornet’s nest of undead. Brian also felt that they were stronger unified, and he wanted Gilbert to persuade Adrian and the Williams clan to move to their home, the old corporate headquarters for a solar panel manufacturer.

  Gilbert dodged that suggestion as long as he could, and the conversations remained fairly light. The longer he could keep Adrian away from others, the safer it was for everyone. It all came to a head when Jason, one of Brian’s officers on the force contacted them via radio when they were fighting undead downtown. The next couple weeks saw the two groups meet, trade, and create a strong cross town alliance that drew the two groups together.

  Sadly, Sean and his remaining Westfield flunkies threw a monkey wrench into that plan. The small gas station at the end of Auburn Lake Road exploded one night, and when they investigated the explosion, they were forced to kill some of the Westfield people. They later found out they were carrying empty weapons, and that sent Adrian into a bit of fury. Sean had forced them to kill defenseless people.

  That night Adrian confronted Gilbert. He had been listening to the radio at night, and he’d heard one of the conversations they had. The conversation they had at gunpoint in the snow in the dark on campus was one of the worst moments in Gilbert’s life.

  As Gilbert dismounted from the snowmobile he heard Adrian scream, “FREEZE!” Gilbert froze solid, standing in the cold moonlight. He didn’t expect that greeting, especially from his friend.

  “Gilbert, what were you and Brian talking about on the radio the other night?” He asked Gilbert angrily. Inside Gilbert felt like the gig was up. Gilbert knew this would be the moment when he’d die a traitor’s death. Ironically, he felt as if he was about to die for the wrong reasons. He was going to be shot for his least lie.

  Gilbert lifted his arms out to his side and slowly responded carefully to the man he’d been misleading for almost two months, “I’ve known Brian Moore for years Adrian. I was friends with his father. He and I have been talking for months now on the little radio I have in my basement.”

  Adrian’s eyes raged over the deceit as he yelled back at Gilbert over the sights of his rifle. “You fucking asshole! Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?! We could’ve been talking to them weeks ago, a month ago, or more you fucking dink! And I turn on the radio in the middle of the night and lo and fucking behold I hear you two talking about me? What the fuck man? You have any idea how fucking betrayed I feel?! Why the fucking game?”

  Gilbert maintained his calm demeanor, and tried to remember that Adrian’s nerves were frayed not only from Gilbert’s betrayal, but from the explosion and subsequent shooting at the gas station. “Look son, you lied to Brian too. You told him we had more people here than we did. You told him you have less food than you actually have. You were smart, and you told him just as much as you had to. The only difference between you and me right now is that your feelings are hurt that I protected myself, and mine aren’t.”

  Adrian’s eyes watered up in the cold night. He was dangerously close to not only breaking emotionally, but pulling the trigger of his assault rifle, ending Gilbert’s great charade. “Fuck, Gilbert, you’re like the first person I’ve met that didn’t try and fucking kill me. I thought we’d be on the level man. You know, you gotta trust someone sometime right?”

  The next thing Gilbert said broke the heart beating in his own chest. It was the biggest lie he’d told the young man, “Adrian, I have never lied to you. I have not told you things a few times that made my situation better son, but at no point have I bald faced lied to you.”

  Adrian lowered the rifle a little and Gilbert slowly lowered his hands. The tall warrior wiped the tears from his eyes as Gilbert lied again. “Look son. This world is fucked. There’s food, ammunition, fuel, and trust. Anything else doesn’t matter, and off that list, trust is the hardest to find, and worth the most. Now if your feelings are hurt because I don’t trust nobody, then tough shit son. But I can tell you this: I coulda thrown in with Brian’s men long before I met you, and I didn’t. I’m right here, right now, and you gotta trust that when it gets thick, I am here for you son.”

  Gilbert could see saying that made Adrian feel better, but the statement tied Gilbert’s soul into painful knots. The lies rested in the hollow of Gilbert’s crowded mind like a pile of festering rot. The growing burden inside him was growing heavier, and darker. Gilbert knew he couldn’t do this much longer without losing his mind, or making a mistake, condemning his wife to damnation.

  Patty, Charles, and Randy all moved out of the school days later, leaving Abby behind. She wouldn’t leave Adrian behind, and she felt the solar panel plant was more unsafe than the school, despite Sean’s recent attack. Abigail was correct.

  Less than a week later there was a massive explosion that entirely engulfed the solar panel plant. Adrian assumed it was the work of Sean, that the Senator's lust for vengeance hadn't been sated, and Chief Moore's people paid the price, but he was wrong. The Voice pulled a different string to make that disaster happen.

  “The Williams family, and all of your friends in your town will die tonight.”

  Gilbert was flat on his back in the cold dark space, starting up into the nonexistent void above. He slowly blinked, and tried to think of a way to respond. So much heartache. So much betrayal.

  “When you awaken, you will hear my minion’s work completed.”

  “Another of your chosen?”

  “No. Someone who is vulnerable that I have given a gentle suggestion to. The Williams child. He has been broken on the inside for a very long time. He shall undo them all. The Soul will blame Sean. This will force him to murder Sean. It all ends soon Gilbert Donohue. Mankind undone.”

  “Fuck you. He’s stronger than you. He won’t cave to your bullshit manipulations. He’ll fucking die first.”

  “We shall see Gilbert Donohue. When you awaken, you must go to him, and guide him to make the attack on Westfield urgently. The more rushed he is, the more likely the Soul is to make the final mistake, and fail your people.”

  *****

  Gilbert tried to push Adrian to make a hasty plan, but it failed. Gilbert celebrated the young man’s victory against his own pressure. Adrian knew Gilbert’s skill set as an ex Green Beret, and he wanted to slowly insert himself into the town, gather information, build a relationship with the locals as best as possible, and attempt to start some kind of coup.

  Gilbert paid a price for not pushing Adrian hard. Every night that the old veteran didn’t spend sleeping near Adrian during the whole Westfield fiasco, the old man shivered in the cold, dark place. The Voice never came to him, but it didn’t have to. Dreamless hour after dreamless hour left Gilbert drained and miserable. His only respite was on the nights Adrian returned back to campus and Gilbert could sleep near him. On more than one occasion Gilbert left his home and walked at night through the snow until he could get close to Adrian just to sleep near him. His presence overpowered all the terrible dreams, and for that, Gilbert was profoundly grateful.

  A man named Lenny McDowell nearly cost Gilbert his life however. Adrian’s plan to get inside Westfield worked as close to perfect as you could get, and the man on the inside that spearheaded it was a farmer named Lenny McDowell. Lenny hated Sean with a passion, and when they first met the haggard Navy veteran at his farm, they decided Gilbert should be the first person he would meet.

  Right before the meeting Gilbert had a short dream in the dark place. The Voice spoke to him immediately, conveying a short, but powerful message. Gilbert almost caught the bare essence of panic in The Voice.

  “Gilbert Donohue, you must ensure that the meeting with the farmer goes poorly. You must ensure that the Soul murders Sean in cold blood. You must ensure this. Think of your wife.”

  Gi
lbert had no idea how to make all that happen at the last second, and when he finally met the old farmer, he had a moment of glorious rebellion. Lenny was a man just like Gilbert, and he made far too much sense to mislead. Lenny had it all figured out, had seen all the angles, and had already made his decision before Gilbert even arrived to talk to him. All he was looking for was a sincere face to make sure he was throwing in with good people.

  When Adrian and Gilbert left Westfield that night, they had set the plan in motion to usurp Sean’s control. When Gilbert went to bed that night, The Voice made him pay dearly for his lack of effort. Gilbert attempted to stay up as late as possible to avoid sleeping, but the weight of his years, and a nearly supernatural drowsiness lulled him into a thick stupor almost immediately.

  He regretted his failure to stay awake immediately. When Gilbert came to in the void he was floating on his back, supported by a blasting column of frigid air. Tiny crystals of moisture, as sharp as needles dug into his flesh, scouring the skin away like ice cold acid. Gilbert’s face tightened into a grimace as his body dissolved around him. He could feel the blood freezing harshly in the wounds along his spine, his moans of bloated, sickly agony were drowned out by the roar of the air suspending him.

  A moment later, his wrinkled, frail body was dropped several feet to the ground in his dream, and he lost the air in his chest. As he rolled over, getting his raw flesh off the otherworldly surface he felt the sickness signifying The Voice enter his mind.

  “That is the eternal fate your wife has ahead of her should you not do what I ask Gilbert Donohue.”

  Gilbert sucked the cold dry air into his chest, filling his collapsed lungs as fast as he could. It was a struggle, and he was unable to reply, or defend his actions.

  “Right now she hangs as you did, her flesh flensed from her eternal form, dripping blood and an endless river of tears, paying the price for your arrogance, and disobedience. I will not grant her the gift of torture much longer Gilbert Donohue. Soon my patience will run its course, and I shall let her slip into oblivion. Forever.”

  Through gritted teeth and unimaginable pain Gilbert snarled out a reply, “This is all just a waste of time. You won’t break him. You can’t break him. I know now. I’ve seen him. I know him now. You don’t have the power, and I don’t either. Torturing my wife and sending her to Hell won’t change that one fucking bit.”

  “Perhaps not Gilbert Donohue. Maybe next I will start killing those you care about that are still alive? Perhaps the young girl Abigail? Or her Mother? Do not test me further. Do what is right, and allow for your race to disappear forever, so creation can begin fresh, and anew.”

  Gilbert spat. When he woke up after the dream, his back was nearly black with bruises.

  *****

  In March Adrian shared the fact that he was having dreams of his own. Much different dreams than the ones Gilbert had. In Adrian’s dream he was in a warm, well lit room made of white light. He was always surrounded by things of three, and every time he dreamt of these dreams, the dead passed along helpful messages.

  Had Gilbert not been visited by The Voice in the cold, he might’ve thought Adrian insane. Gilbert knew better. Gilbert also knew these dreams of The White Room were messages from the other player in the grand game at play. The force that represented good.

  Gilbert smiled as much as he could when he heard over the radio that Adrian had a dream. Of course the dream came with a waking nightmare. Outside Adrian’s Hall E the entirety of campus was covered by a legion of undead. Each of the countless hundreds were carrying a book, wielding it as a message from the divine for The Scribe. Only Gilbert knew the significance.

  Outside Gilbert’s home was a small group of undead as well, acting as a rear guard. They stood passively, keeping Gilbert contained until the drama on campus was resolved. Reinforcements from Westfield helped save the day, and the rest of the survivors in Adrian’s camp were spared a grisly fate.

  Gilbert was pleased to see the other team had finally shown up for the game.

  *****

  It was quite some time before The Voice returned to Gilbert. So long in fact that he thought his fanatical, rebellious speech had freed him from the bondage of the dreams in the dark place. Sadly, it had not.

  Events in town had changed everyone’s lives dramatically. Once winter had subsided and the threat posed by Sean had been dealt with by his own people, things turned over a new leaf. In an attempt to make town more suitable for habitation, and to accumulate more food and supplies, the survivors at the school headed downtown to empty houses, and kill the undead menace wandering the streets.

  A fluke meeting with a lone survivor named Blake in April led them down a path to near disaster. Blake was a young man surviving on his own, and had managed to lose a lot of his social skills as a result. He was skittish, wily, and posed as much a danger to their growing community at the school as anything else. Adrian reached out to him, and in short order, they realized he had a story to tell.

  Blake had visited a farm many times on the outskirts of town, far from the school. The farm was fortified, and run by one of the local church’s pastors. Blake and his girlfriend Kim had visited the farm many times to trade in things they scavenged in town for fresh food out of the fields, and items the farm had in abundance. One meeting took a different turn. The pastor invited Kim in to stay, and after discussion, Blake and Kim agreed she’d be safer inside.

  Not long after that when Blake returned to visit Kim and trade, the pastor informed Blake that she was no longer interested in seeing him. Blake was sent away alone, broken hearted, and bitter. The ensuing months of watching the farm from a distance revealed a truth to him that ruined him even more. Kim was with child, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that baby was his.

  The residents of Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy went into motion to get to the bottom of the secrets of the farm. It was some time before they made a breakthrough. With no good options to approach the farm directly for a meeting they observed from afar through the optics on their rifles. Gilbert and Adrian sifted through detail after detail, hoping the reality was positive, and not what it looked like. The farm had many women with child, and it struck everyone as beyond suspicious.

  One day a new family was seen meeting with the pastor at the farm, and Adrian went out to meet them, hoping to strike up conversation, create a new set of allies, and try and gain more intelligence on the strange farm. His gambit worked. The family was more than willing to set up a meeting, and after careful consideration, Gilbert and Patty were chosen to go.

  Gilbert was contacted the night prior by The Voice.

  “You are about to meet another of my chosen.”

  “The Pastor? You sure are a prolific sonofabitch.” Gilbert said in a tired voice.

  “Indeed. Those of the cloth are easily swayed with convincing illusions.”

  “What exactly is the deal here?” Gilbert was done caring.

  “The Pastor has been told that a man of pure evil will come into his Garden of Eden, and that it is his responsibility to take this evil man to task.”

  “You want him to kill Adrian, don’t you?”

  “Kill, or maim. It does not matter which.”

  “Done trying to corrupt him already? Was his soul more resilient than your determination?” Gilbert smirked in the cold of the dreamscape.

  “There are others I can get to. If the Soul is murdered now, it will not matter. He is but one of a group of threes.”

  “Well fuck you then. All this bullshit for nothing?” Gilbert was angry again.

  “Your wife’s soul is still in my safekeeping. You would be advised to continue to do my bidding Gilbert Donohue. There are more tasks ahead. This task is but one. You are to meet with the Pastor, and tell the Soul afterward the Pastor is a good person, and harmless. Soon after the Pastor will take action, and the Soul will be killed.”

  Gilbert swallowed. A world without Adrian in it seemed very strange to think about. He blinked several t
imes in the cool air, thinking hard about the ramifications of fully condemning Adrian to his death.

  “Your time on this world is nigh Gilbert Donohue. Spend it wisely serving my needs, and you shall spend eternity with your beloved in paradise. It will all be worth it.”

  Gilbert sighed, and woke up. There was another white poppy on the pillow next to his head.

  *****

  “Hello sir, I’m Gilbert Donohue. I’m told you’re the man to see here at this farm.” Gilbert looked inside the small plexiglass window of the reinforced farm stand. It straddled the heavy cow fence that kept the roaming undead out, as well as the animals in. It now passed as a fortified meeting place.

  The Pastor was a wide man with well trimmed white hair and one too many chins. He had a red face that spoke of too many late nights with a whiskey glass in his hand. His nose was covered in a spider web of fine, hair-like capillaries that were blood red.

  “Good to meet you Mr. Donohue, and God bless. The Edwards family down the road claims that you’re good people. I’m happy to meet good people. How can we help you here today?” The Pastor seemed jovial behind the heavy glass. It also helped that there were two armed guards behind the cow fence, watching the goings on carefully.

  “Well, we travel about town frequently, and we’re looking for a place to trade. You’ve got farm animals I see, and we’re thinking it might be beneficial to work something out,” Gilbert said as Patty watched. She was intently observing the area around them for movement or threats. She would let Gilbert do the talking and watch his back.