He left a small pile of goods, and the backpack, next to the front door, knowing he needed to deal with the unwelcome visitors outside before loading up to leave Blue Ash behind. Carefully checking the backdoor, he found the open backyard clear of any activity, so he stepped outside. Immediately the sound of gunfire reached his ears from a distance, intermittent and desperate in nature. Pulling the hammer back on the revolver, he quickly and cautiously made his way around the house, finding the undead still pawing at his door because nothing else had come along to attract their attention.
Only seconds passed when he reached the corner before the female zombie noticed him, beginning to amble his way from the front steps. With the neighboring house only a few feet behind him, Metzger didn’t have anywhere to run except to the backdoor or into the street. He held up the gun defensively, hoping he wasn’t about to commit murder.
“If you can hear me, please stop,” he said to the woman, who continued to gnash her teeth and look at him ravenously.
Dead less than twenty-four hours, she might as well have been in the ground for a year from the looks of her. The irises of her eyes looked a vacant brown, with the former whites of her eyes yellow in appearance. Her skin was already beginning to turn dry and flaky, and even her clothing possessed an earth tone about it, as though she had been kneaded in dirt like a baker might work dough through flour. She showed absolutely no indication his words reached her ears, or her brain, and her new allies followed, showing equally aggressive tendencies. Metzger simply couldn’t believe that someone who walked on two feet and made noise, even in the form of a growl, wasn’t still alive somehow.
He shook his head negatively as he raised the gun, firing directly into her forehead, downing her immediately. Much to his surprise, the gunshots didn’t faze the other two one bit as they stumbled toward him, walking over their fellow zombie on the ground. Their eyes never left Metzger, continually studying their quarry, unaware of anything else around them.
Metzger provided each of them with a bullet to the forehead in short order, looking around to see no one living or dead appearing on his street. He spent the next five minutes loading his truck with the boxes, bags, and the backpack, thankful he put a hardtop over the truck’s bed that past spring. He shut everything off and locked the house in case his brother wasn’t accurate and he might return to Ohio someday. As he walked out to the truck from the closed front door, Metzger looked down the street, spying a lone member of the undead shuffling along because it hadn’t noticed him yet. He thought about taking action, but decided to head northeast, hoping to arrive within a few days if luck was on his side.
It turned out nothing went right for Metzger over the course of the following three days. He immediately found gridlock on the interstate and ended up abandoning the truck in lieu of an abandoned smart car, which weaved through traffic a little better for part of a day until it died. His travels felt like they took him feet per day instead of miles, and he grew disheartened after a second conversation with his mother ended up interrupted or severed. Attempts to call his parents were met with their voicemail after five rings or entirely disrupted phone service as power and cell phone towers began to fail in certain areas.
Bryce was right, he decided, and told his brother that when he received a second call from the Navy lieutenant commander. He also told him about the interrupted phone call with his mother, only to have his brother press him to get to Tonawanda more quickly. Bryce promised to call again, and about a week later, before the generators running local cell phone towers finally gave out, the Navy officer spoke with him several minutes.
“It’s starting to get rough out here,” Bryce stated. “Most of the guys can’t reach anyone from their families and they’re freaking out. We’ve been rationing supplies, but we’re running out, and most of us have lost contact with our families. The captain can’t reach any of our people on the mainland, so he said we’re heading home. We haven’t received orders from the Fleet in three days, and he says he’s worried about his wife and kids like the rest of us.”
“How the hell do I find you?” Metzger asked.
“I have to believe the base in Norfolk is secure,” Bryce said. “Head there once you find Mom and Dad. I’m going to round up Isabella and Nathan when I get back, but it’s going to be a few weeks. We’re halfway around the world right now, and I don’t think we’re the only ship heading home. I just hope we can make it with what supplies and fuel we have.”
Metzger didn’t like the idea of completely losing contact with his brother. Aside from sat phones and smoke rings, very few reliable methods of communication remained.
“I won’t have any way to contact you if something goes wrong.”
“Dad has a sat phone at the house. When you get there, get it from him. I’ll find some way to call you.”
“Bryce, I hope they’re still okay when I get there,” Metzger confessed, his concerns genuine, and growing by the day. “It’s going to be slow going all the way. The highways are jammed with cars and the undead.”
“Stay tough, Dan. I’ll see you soon, I promise. Gotta go.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.”
During the next few weeks following the phone call, Metzger traveled during the day, changing vehicles often when he was able to navigate the roads with them. He began taking state highways and county roads to avoid the inadvertent blockades. Some people abandoned their vehicles when it became clear no one was getting anywhere quickly, but even more died in their vehicles, or nearby. Each time he took a new car, truck, or motorcycle, Metzger left more and more belongings behind. He discovered food wasn’t difficult to replace early on, so he held on to weapons and what few photographs and important personal items he brought from Ohio.
He witnessed fellow travelers getting mauled and killed by the undead, which fueled his eventual desire to take out as many of the murderous, mindless monsters as possible. It didn’t take long for him to see some of the living prey upon travelers as well, holding them at gunpoint to steal their supplies. A person left without food or weapons wasn’t long for the world, and Metzger felt for them, but he also couldn’t take on groups by himself.
Often thinking of the kids in his school, he wondered if some of them survived, or ran around as little discolored zombies, chasing people and animals to feed a hunger that could never be satisfied. He hadn’t gotten to know the kids in his class very well during the first few weeks of school, and thought maybe that helped him avoid dwelling upon them and their families so much. Eventually he reached the outskirts of Buffalo on Highway 5, making a final switch from a Ford Escape to a motorcycle he spied lying along the side of the road.
Closer to the city, he found vehicles crowding the road in all of the lanes. For as many people who wanted to flee the city and likely never made it, thousands wanted entrance into the second largest city in New York to find loved ones. Already possessing riding items that fit from previous vehicle changes, Metzger put on the chaps, a thick shirt, and a leather jacket to protect him from the undead and any accidents. He also grabbed the helmet from the back of the Escape, keeping it because so many clothing items he found were stained with blood or brain chunks from their former owners.
Drawing closer to the Harley-Davidson Softail he spied near the side of the road, he noticed a body near the bike also clad from head to toe in leather. Not until he stepped only a few feet from the motorcycle did he notice the body moving a little from its prone position along the edge of the highway. Still wearing a helmet, the man near the Harley wasn’t among the living as his head shifted to spy Metzger and a throaty growl emitted in muffled form through the full-face helmet. Both legs appeared shattered, preventing him from standing, and he hadn’t learned to crawl by using his elbows or hands. Based on the way the neck and the helmet didn’t quite align, Metzger wondered if the man snapped his neck during a riding accident, killing him instantly.
Drawing the shorter of the two swords from his pack in th
e Escape, Metzger jabbed the tip of the blade up through the man’s chin, reaching the brain immediately and putting the poor soul to rest.
Metzger began the task of transferring his items from the Ford to the Harley’s saddlebags, discovering he was low on food. He knew of a few convenience stores within city limits he could visit, hoping the undead weren’t too thick along the outskirts. Feeling close to his objective, he wanted to find his parents before nightfall, but wasn’t sure he could weave around the traffic easily, even with a motorcycle. At that moment, hope coursed through his body, knowing he might find his mother, only to have her explain that the phones went dead across the city in the middle of their conversation.
Awaking suddenly from a dream that felt incredibly vivid, Metzger couldn’t immediately place his position. Sitting up nervously as he reached for a weapon, his heartrate escalated until he remembered he was surrounded by friendly people within a safe location.
Everyone ended up spending the night at the school, though no one felt exceptionally comfortable. Three of the Wardens escaped the property because they weren’t found after several thorough searches of the school grounds. One of them included the infamous Xavier, and after examining the bodies and the one remaining living prisoner, Metzger didn’t see anyone who matched the man with the ponytail outside of Albert’s house from the previous evening. He couldn’t be one-hundred percent certain those men were part of the Wardens until he asked the survivors at the school. Several of them described the missing men to him in detail, leading him to think the events of his motorcycle incident and the two raids at Albert’s house were perpetrated by the same people.
He stood, prepared to say a few goodbyes and leave the school grounds as soon as possible, knowing he still needed to travel southeast. Traveling to Norfolk, Virginia wasn’t going to be any easier than heading from Blue Ash to Tonawanda. The journey required crossing through Pennsylvania and Maryland while navigating around Washington, D.C., which surely contained far more dangers than just the undead. Only once had Metzger ever driven near the nation’s capital, and even then the interstates were a major hassle. He couldn’t imagine what the roads looked like with abandoned vehicles everywhere, particularly since it was a target of the factory explosions.
Gathering what few items he brought with him from the Toyota, Metzger wanted to step outside to assess the landscape before heading back to the gray car. He parked it a few miles down the road, hidden from plain view, the previous day before everyone walked to the school. Most of the former prisoners continued to sleep, along with a few members of Molly’s group who participated in the rescue efforts. A few were lucky enough to have sleeping bags or blankets discovered in the closets and the offices the Wardens kept for themselves. A few simply slept on the floor in their clothing, happily resting while they breathed air that felt free.
Carefully stepping around the people slumbering closest to the door in the gymnasium, Metzger thought back to the events of the previous evening, including how some of the survivors cleaned out the octagonal cell to make room for the one remaining prisoner that Molly let live. Although he hated the circumstances that made it such a fortress, Metzger knew the school provided a safe haven for anyone who stayed. He hoped Molly would take a leadership role and help the survivors thrive in a familiar environment, even if some of them struggled to forget the past.
Entertaining thoughts of simply walking down the road and never looking back crossed his mind, but as he reached the main exit that would lead him through the gate outside, he heard a voice behind him.
“Where do you think you’re heading?”
Turning, he found Albert standing there with Luke and Samantha.
“I was heading to the car to make sure everything was ready to go.”
“You can’t leave yet.”
“I can’t?”
“No. Molly has something to ask of you.”
Now feeling like a prisoner himself, Metzger set most of his belongings near the door, wondering what more he needed to do for this group before they felt content to let him leave.
Sighing aloud, he looked to Albert, wanting nothing more than to begin his journey south.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Twelve
Metzger virtually stormed down the hall with the three people he actually termed his people, even though he hadn’t actually used those words aloud.
When he arrived in the science lab where Molly stood near the back wall with Jillian and a Hispanic man about Metzger’s age, he saw them removing the licenses from the wall. Immediately he believed he overreacted to Molly asking to see him, took a deep breath, and walked more calmly to the back of the room.
“I know you’ve had a lot on your plate since yesterday,” Molly began empathetically. “First off, I want you to have these, if you want them.”
She handed him the licenses of his parents, which he took before staring at them momentarily, still infuriated that his parents were buried in a shallow grave behind the school.
“We’re going to do a memorial to the people we lost here at the school,” she continued. “And we’re going to give them each a more proper burial.”
“Does the memorial involve the licenses?” he asked.
Molly nodded.
“There’s nothing else to use.”
“Then take these,” he said, handing them back to her. “I still have some family pictures. It’ll mean something to these folks if they have a complete memorial.”
“I’m sorry if I was a little harsh yesterday,” she added. “Things got pretty intense toward the end.”
“It’s understandable. Just glad I could help. And I’m sorry your person didn’t make it either.”
A few seconds of silence filled the room until Molly spoke.
“I know you’re leaving soon, and we certainly don’t want to hold you up, but I was wondering if you might be willing to take a few people with you.”
Metzger felt a bit perplexed that anyone would want to tag along with him, considering he was an emotional wreck at the end of the previous evening.
“Really?” he questioned, his surprise evident.
“I think you already know Jillian Varitek,” Molly said with a nod.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard a surname since I got to Buffalo,” Metzger said, realizing how little time anyone found for personal interaction after the apocalypse.
“My sister didn’t make it, and I have family in Virginia, not far from the base,” Jillian explained. “I’d like to go as far as I can with you if that’s possible.”
“Sure,” Metzger replied.
Barely in her twenties, Jillian remained a stunning brunette despite the circumstances surrounding her, almost like a poster child for innocence. Her hair barely reached her shoulders, and her face was smooth, free of acne, and very pretty. Metzger assumed she didn’t bother with makeup in the new world, much like other people did without hot showers and gourmet food. She had a farm girl next door quality and appearance, and a slight vulnerability that seemed intensified after learning about the fate of her sister.
“And this is Juan Vazquez,” Molly said after a few seconds, introducing the Hispanic man as he and Metzger shook hands.
“Thank you for what you did yesterday,” Vazquez said gratefully. “If I’m not a burden, I’d like to travel with you a while. I need to get south.”
“Okay,” Metzger said with a nod, feeling certain if he traveled too much further alone he might never speak to another human being again.
Vazquez appeared very physically fit, either remaining clean shaven or incapable of growing much facial hair. He wore blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a pastel green shirt a bit louder than what most people opted to wear during their travels. Metzger didn’t recognize him from Molly’s group, so he assumed the man was freed with the others and donned whatever clean shirt he could readily find.
“Got room for three more?” Albert asked him, catching Metzger completely off-guard.
/> “You want to leave your sanctuary?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we want to, but it seems we’re better off with others than standing our ground at the house. The power isn’t going to last forever, and if you’re heading south, that sounds like the better bet. Luke and I talked it over, and Sam is willing to go along with it. She trusts you.”
“Is that true?” Metzger asked Samantha after kneeling down to her level.
As usual, she said nothing, but bobbed her head up and down a few seconds to let him know she agreed with her two guardians.
“We have a number of cars at the house if we could head over there and grab a few of our things,” Luke added.
He looked to Molly.
“You’re welcome to take any of the other vehicles. We probably have about a dozen ready to go.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Metzger looked to Jillian and Vazquez a moment.
“Let me run them to the house and we can return with a second vehicle before we head south. I can’t promise you how far we’ll get before we have to ditch the cars and start hoofing it, and it will be dangerous, so are you sure this is what you both want?”
Both nodded affirmatively.
“This is the best chance we both have to see our families again,” Vazquez said.
He spoke excellent English, indicating he was likely a natural American citizen, despite his full name. Just a hint of accent lingered in his voice, however, as though he might have been raised in a home that regularly spoke Spanish.
Metzger looked to Albert with a bit of concern.
“Do you want to bring Sam along? It could get hairy out there if more undead followed the noise to your neighborhood.”
“We can look after her if you want,” Molly volunteered. “I think I saw a box of toys in the main office.”
“Can I stay?” Samantha asked with a smile from ear to ear, jumping up and down slightly.
The Undead Chronicles_Book 1_Home and Back Again Page 16
