Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 7): The Trinity

by Chris Philbrook

  Cheryl looked at Andy's hand like it was dirty, but then nodded, and left the room. She was confident her men could take care of the situation.

  Andy went back to staring at the bank of screens in the small room.

  *****

  “Alright then. Three locations that can hold four shooters. All have good exits and cover. I think this can work. We can also roll in heavy with the HRT if need be. I say we get back home, tell Adrian and the others what we’ve got to work with, and make a plan to see if we can get inside that place to free up the folks that are being held inside. God knows what the fuck they’re making them do in there,” Mike said to Blake as the faintest blue tinge of light illuminated the edge of the horizon outside.

  Blake nodded and the two men raised up to a crouch to move out of the third floor room they were in. They’d migrated slowly away from the Factory as they searched the vacant warehouse buildings. Fortunately the interior of the large industrial buildings were empty of undead, saving the ammunition the men had brought. This was their last stop, and as soon as they exited the building, they’d make their way the handful of miles back to the Toyota Prius they’d driven there. The electric car ran silent if slow, and was perfect for their infiltration.

  Mike and Blake hit the bottom floor of the stairwell and the younger man slowly pushed on the plunger to open the steel door. The door creaked open slowly as Blake pointed his Beretta pistol out, searching for targets. At the end of the military issue pistol Mike had built and attached a homemade suppressor, cutting the noise the gun made dramatically. Blake was itching to use the gun but still hadn’t found a target. Blake turned to Mike and nodded and the two men slid slowly into the street to disappear into the night.

  Blake moved forward and made a single mistake. He didn’t turn and fully check behind the door he’d just opened. Mike let the door close behind him, and felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull. He didn’t feel the ground come up to meet him as he crumbled down to the street unconscious.

  Blake heard the strike that knocked Mike out before he heard Mike hit the ground. Blake spun just as Mike’s body fell limp on the street. He brought his 9mm around and up, looking for that target he’d wanted, and the source of whatever had made the noise behind the door. Blake saw the muzzle flash of the gun before he heard it go off. He felt the biting dagger of pain lance his side immediately. The impact spun him to his left savagely, actually allowing him to see who had shot him as he felt his legs give way. Blake fanned his trigger finger out of reflex as he went to the same pavement Mike was already out cold on. The young man felt the grit of the cold street dig into his face as he heard the man who had just shot him hit the ground just a few feet away. As Blake drifted into the blackness of sleep, tasting some of the dirt from the pavement his face was on, he looked into the cold lifeless eyes of an older man. Blake remarked to himself oddly that the man had very gray hair, and that he couldn’t feel his wound anymore.

  Blake tried to reach down to where he'd been shot, but he succumbed to the darkness first.

  *****

  “Wake the fuck up soldier man,” a female voice said to Mike. Mike’s eyes were fused shut. His head hurt like a bastard. He felt the tightness of rope binding his hands behind him in the chair he was strapped to. Mike opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the dim lighting of the room he was in.

  The room was square, and made of plywood. It was warm though, which told him he was inside. Possibly inside the Factory club itself. A single light bulb hung in the center of the room, a segmented chain for turning it on and off dangling beside it. Mike noticed that the bulb was one of the energy efficient ones that were all the rage before the end of the world, and that it hung from a length of orange extension cord. The ceiling of the room disappeared high above the plywood as well, telling him the room was constructed in the center of a larger interior space, possibly the club floor, or a warehouse. It was all about details. Remembering.

  Mike finally returned his attention to the woman who had just spoken to him. She was tall and blonde, and sexy as hell. She had her hair pulled back, and was wearing a yellow blouse that strained to contain breasts that clearly belonged to someone who had surgically enhanced themselves. Behind the woman was an immense man, at least six foot three and three hundred pounds, wielding a machete. He stood quietly against a door that was made from even more plywood and 2x4s and had an expression designed to intimidate. Mike gauged the man quickly, and felt he was there for show. Men who meant business were easy to spot, and this man looked a tiny bit uncomfortable to be in the room at the moment.

  “Hi,” Mike said flatly.

  The blonde perked up as Mike made eye contact. She seemed pleased he was awake. “Hello there. Thanks for waking up. I’m sorry things went down the way they went. I had hoped we could’ve said hello in a more cordial way.” The blonde smiled.

  Inside Mike felt his stomach twist. The woman’s face could not have been more insincere. She clearly was happy things had gone the way they had. Mike smiled his best back at her. “I’m sorry things went violently as well. Where is my friend?”

  “He was shot, I’m sorry to say. He’s very near death though. Our medical capabilities here are somewhat limited. Perhaps you are able to provide care for him?” She asked, knowing full well Mike’s pack had combat lifesaver medical supplies in it.

  Mike’s smile disappeared. “Please let me attend to him immediately. He’s a father with a little boy at home. Please.”

  “Not quite yet soldier. I have a few questions first.” The woman sat down in a plush red velvet chair that she pulled in from the corner of the plywood room. As she crossed her long legs Mike quickly noted that the chair looked it belonged in a strip club. Now he was certain he was in the club.

  Mike nodded in agreement. He just wanted to get to Blake before he died from whatever wounds he’d suffered. “Ask away.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Mike. What’s yours?” He said quickly.

  The blonde smiled, pleased he’d answered so fast. “I’m Deborah. You can call me Deb. If you see a woman that looks just like me, she’s my sister Cheryl. Second question Mike, why were you and your friend scouting our little home here tonight?”

  Tonight. That meant he'd only been out for a short amount of time. Mike responded immediately again, “We were assessing your place’s security.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  “Because we have had run-ins with your people, and your constant aggressive nature has forced us to come here to determine if a direct attack on your place is necessary,” Mike said flatly.

  Deb’s drawn-on eyebrows jumped two inches in a mixture of anger, and disbelief. “The fuck you think you are? You people can’t just come here and attack our fucking home. We built this place out of fucking nothing you prick,” she snarled at him. Deb’s eyes flared and she stood abruptly, smacking Mike across the face. Mike let his head swivel to absorb the impact.

  Mike moved his head back to center, taking in the expression on the big man’s face. He was clearly uncomfortable with the smack. Mike disguised his smile as a wince. “I’m sorry Deb, but you wanted answers. I’m not gonna lie to you.”

  Deb sat back down in the plush chair and crossed her legs again with a scowl. “Are you assholes going to attack us?”

  Mike shrugged as best he could with his hands tied behind his back. “Dunno really. Depends on if you let us go, and if Blake dies or not. If we don’t return shortly, I can guarantee our people will be here in short order. You and your sister don’t want that Deb. If you think our firefights up to this point have been shit, wait until you see when we empty both barrels on your ass.”

  Deb stood and smacked Mike again. “Shut the fuck up.” She glared at him and walked away. The large man opened the door and she stopped in the rough frame. “Jason, go ahead and take him to his friend. If he or his buddy do anything funny at all, you take his goddamn head off with that fucking machete.”


  The large man nodded, trying to look as tough as he could. He pulled the door shut after Deb left, and turned to face Mike. Mike simply sat there, waiting for the huge man to say something.

  Once he was certain she was out of earshot, the big man spoke. “Sorry man. I hate to see anyone in uniform take any shit like that. Her and her sister are fucking crazy. They aren’t going to do this without violence. You need to know that.”

  Mike nodded silently, and spoke softly. “I know. I can see it in her eyes Jason. Jason, right? It doesn’t have to happen you know. We can do something inside right here, right now. You hand me that gun I had on my hip and this whole fiasco will be settled in five minutes with two bullets.”

  Jason’s face could not have been more conflicted and he wore his struggle on his face. He thought carefully for a moment before replying, “You need to deal with your man. He’s gut shot, and needs your help. I don’t know if I can help you with the women. Things are pretty good here if you toe the line man. You could stay. Military man like you could rise right to the top here. You’d be sitting pretty for a good long while.”

  “Jason if you don’t let me go, or let me get hold of my people, no one here will sitting pretty for long. My people will come for us, and there will damn little pretty about that. Take me to my friend please. Think about what I said.” Mike stood out of the chair and gave the huge man a stern look.

  Jason’s face showed considerable more worry.

  *****

  Mike sat in another one of the plush chairs hours later, his body wracked with exhaustion, and his hands covered to the wrist in Blake’s dark red blood. Mike had been awake for the better part of 24 hours now, and he’d just spent the last hour patching a hole in Blake’s stomach the size of a can of cola. Blake had taken the better part of a shotgun blast to the stomach at nearly point blank range.

  Mike wasn’t sure Blake would survive another 24 hours without a transfusion of blood, or a resupply of plasma. Mike had started an IV to get fluids back into Blake, but he couldn’t be sure it’d be enough. Blake had lost a lot of blood. Mike looked at his red hands and wondered if Blake would ever see his little boy again. Adrian Gilbert Miller. Blake had named his boy after Adrian, the man that had started the settlement they lived in, an abandoned private school they had recently taken to calling Bastion.

  Mike felt like the shit never stopped piling up.

  Blake was in a room in the back of the converted club that appeared to be one of the stripper’s changing rooms. It was reasonably well lit with several cots that could pass as medical beds in a CASH. Mike sat beside the cot Blake was on and watched as the young man struggled to stay alive. His breathing was hitched, and he was covered in sweat. His arms were extended at his sides like stiff wooden beams. Jason stood a few feet away, at the door to the room.

  Mike decided to make a case again to get Jason’s assistance. He turned to face the large man. “Jason. You know this is wrong. You know I’m a hostage, and I have the sinking suspicion you know damn straight some of what goes on in here ain’t right either. I’ve heard some of the stories about this place. Help me make this right. Give me my radio. Give me my pistol. Help me. Help me, help you.”

  Jason looked at Mike with sad eyes. He slowly looked down at the machete that hung limply in his hand. Mike caught the faint expression of frustration on Jason’s face as he took the blade in.

  Mike pressed more. “Jason how many people are here? How many folks would put up a fight if something were to go down.”

  Jason sat down on a cot a few beds away from Mike and sat the machete down. He looked at it like it might jump off the bed and hurt someone, namely he. “Maybe ten people. Well, twelve if you count the sisters. They’ll die before they let this place slip away. It’s more important to those crazy bitches than their frigging lives man. They’ve got a few of the guys obsessed with staying here and keeping things the way they are. It’s nuts.”

  “Okay Jason, thanks. That's very helpful. Is there an easy way into this place? The front door seems very secure, and the docks looked like the best way in. Is it the best way in?” Mike asked quietly, using his best soft tone.

  “Well on the ground floor sure. You just gotta cut the fence and get into the dock doors. But your best bet is the roof. There are unlocked doors up there. The problem is the cameras Andy has set up. You can’t get within three hundred feet of this place without him seeing you. That's how we saw you. You’d have to hit his security station on the second floor before anyone could make a run at this place. We’d just button up, and you’d need fucking dynamite to get inside.” Jason almost said that with pride, like he’d been part of the fortification work.

  “I understand. Where is this security room? Who is Andy? Is he a bad guy?” Mike asked. This could be a big piece of whether or not Mike would be able to escape, or enable a safer assault on the building by Adrian. Mike knew he might not make a successful break, but he knew with certainty Adrian would come for him and Blake. Adrian was not the kind of man that’d abandon anyone, especially a friend.

  “Andy’s a good guy. He’s King Shit of turd hill here though. He gets girls, food, a nice safe bed, and everything a guy like him never could’ve gotten before. Even with that said, I think he’d flip on the girls if you gave him a decent counter offer,” Jason said.

  Mike laughed at the King Shit joke. He’d heard Adrian crack the same joke. Suddenly he wondered if the two knew each other. “Jason is there any chance you know a man named Adrian? Adrian Ring?”

  Jason’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “Oh hell yes. He and I did door work together at another club a ways back. Good shit. Ex what? Army? Tough guy, real funny. Do you know him? Is he good to go? He’s still alive?”

  Mike knew he had his in with Jason. “Jason he’s the leader of my group of survivors. He’s the one that you and your people have been running into all this time. He’s been trying to make peace with you folks but every time you guys open fire on him. On us. We’re just trying to get by in a fucked up world brother. But if you know him like I know him, then you fucking KNOW he’ll be here shortly when we don’t go home.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed in what Mike thought was worry. The large man’s face was mostly jaw and thick cheekbone so it was difficult to gauge the specific emotion he was feeling. Jason abruptly stood up and walked to the door, scary machete in hand.

  “Hey, where are you going? You can’t just leave me like this Jason. A lot of people are going to get hurt unless you and I do something.”

  Jason stopped with the door handle in his thick fist, and spoke over his shoulder without turning, “Mike, people have already gotten hurt over this. It’s just a matter of which side the most people get hurt on. I’ll be back with some food for you in a few hours. Maybe in the morning. Don’t wait up if you’re tired. Keep your boy alive.”

  And Jason left the room. Mike wasn’t sure exactly what would happen next.

  *****

  Mike didn’t see Jason until the following morning. He only knew it was morning because the food brought to him resembled oatmeal, and Jason and the other tall blonde Cheryl wished him a “Good morning.” Mike wasn’t sure how good it was.

  “So Jason tells me you are working with one of the bouncers that worked at another club eh? Seems like you’re pretty lucky if a meathead has been making your decisions all this time. What do you think the next move is for your bouncer leader?”

  Mike looked at Jason with tremendous disappointment on his face. Jason looked back defiantly at Mike, almost happy that the older veteran was angry. Mike suddenly wondered why Jason would’ve gone to such lengths after hearing Adrian’s name. He wondered if the two men had some bad blood in their history.

  “Well,” Mike responded, “first off, calling him a meathead doesn’t give him proper credit. He’s ex Army, and damn smart to boot. He’s also motivated, heavily armed, and has the support of a lot of people that’d jump on a land mine for him. He’s not just any man either. I can’t say that e
nough. He’s protected on high by powers you can’t fathom. I’m talking about biblical savior bullshit. Parting seas, stone tablets, and holy vengeance. You don’t understand what you’re getting into here. I can’t emphasize that enough.” Mike’s face was sincere and dead serious.

  Cheryl looked back at Mike with the similar expression of disgust he’d seen from her sister the day prior. “Well fuck you then. You’re all crazier than we are. We’ll just get our shooters set up, and when they make their silly ass attempt at coming to rescue you, we’ll just shoot the fuck out of them the same as everyone else that has tried to get in here. And you know what dick? No one has gotten in here yet and that's not for lack of trying. We've been here the whole time, safe and sound. Let’s see your savior do what no one else has.”

  “Operative word is ‘yet’ you bitch. Mark my fucking words. You are on borrowed fucking time. Let me and Blake walk right now, and this can all end without you and everyone else here bleeding out on these nice whore-stained rugs you’ve got,” Mike spat the words like acid at her. Cheryl actually took a step back when she saw the conviction on the grizzled man’s face. Jason’s eyebrows popped up slightly in amazement that anyone had gotten to the sister.

  “We’ll see about that,” Cheryl said, and walked out of the changing room. Jason watched her go, and then turned to Mike, who was still sitting on the cot he’d slept on.

  “How long until they hit us?” Jason asked.

  “I’m surprised you’re still fucking breathing,” Mike said, and pushed the bowl of oatmeal away. He turned to tend to Blake, ignoring the large man.

  “Maybe it isn’t too late to fix this,” Jason offered, sounding sincere.

  Mike turned, the same look of disgust on his face. “if you’re going to do anything, do it now. The sooner we can either kill those two twats, or disable Andy’s cameras, or I can radio Adrian to give him intel on how to do this with the least amount of carnage the better off we are.”