The Undead Chronicles (Book 1): Home and Back Again

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  He sometimes ate lunch in the cafeteria, but often brought in his own food to save money, and to assure he could eat something he liked. Looking down at some quizzes he needed to grade before the students returned, he found several errors on the math paper, realizing he needed to be a jack of all trades as an elementary school teacher while teachers in secondary education got to focus on one or two studies. Granted, he didn’t need to be an expert in English, math, social studies, or science, but he needed to know enough about each to educate youngsters.

  For the first time in over a month Metzger didn’t feel the itch that sometimes accompanied his beard. As a teacher he typically grew a beard or full goatee during the colder months, sometimes keeping a clean face during the spring and summer months.

  Complete silence surrounded him a few more minutes while he graded quizzes, and when he finally looked up, Timmy Fuller stared back at him with a mop-like haircut that hung over his ears and forehead. His brown hair matched the color of the numerous freckles dotting his face, and the child’s hazel eyes looked at his teacher as though needing to ask something. Timmy was always asking to go to the bathroom, or saying he felt ill to visit the nurse or get out of the classroom for a few minutes. Metzger never got to the bottom of the student’s need to escape the classroom, whether bullies taunted him, or he simply preferred time alone.

  Perhaps Timmy Fuller was a future serial killer.

  “What is it, Timmy?” Metzger asked patiently as he held a pen, looking at the student and away from the quizzes.

  “I don’t feel good. Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “Sure,” Metzger said, handing him a hall pass from atop the desk.

  Watching the child turn for the door only a few seconds, Metzger returned to grading the papers, sensing a presence lingering nearby almost immediately.

  He looked up, finding Timmy standing in the center of the room with his back to the chalkboard and Metzger’s desk.

  “Everything okay?” Metzger inquired, ready to return to his paperwork without waiting for an answer.

  When Timmy didn’t answer, or move, however, Metzger shoved his office chair back and stood, slowly maneuvering around the desk and into the center aisle of neatly arranged student desks. Odors of cleaning products and disinfectants lingered in the air from the overnight sanitation of the classroom as Metzger walked toward his student, who stood frozen in place. Metzger always felt compassion for his students, but this time, in the back of his mind, he sensed some form of danger that he shouldn’t have felt in a normal, conventional world.

  As he drew closer, Metzger noticed the child beginning to teeter between both feet as though ready to move, but lacking a destination, simply bobbing back and forth on each foot. Strangely, a thumping sound accompanied each shift of his weight on each foot, though Metzger thought little of it at the moment. When he stepped within a few feet of the student, Metzger placed his hand on Timmy’s shoulder, causing the child to turn around with a gruesome, bloody face that contained no skin along the lower half of his face, providing a full view of gums and gnarled teeth, ready to bite in his sudden zombie form. The eyes were already yellowed, despite an apparently immediate transformation, and Metzger was about to take a step back when Timmy snapped at him with those awful bloody teeth.

  Metzger awoke with a flinch, finding a warm body beside him in bed, quickly taking in the hotel room surroundings as the light of dawn peered around the closed window shades. He draped one arm around Jillian, feeling the rhythmic ins and outs of her breathing as he closed his eyes, smiling to himself. He felt relieved to have found comfort in someone else after being alone for the better part of a month. The thumping sound from his dreams continued in reality as he heard several rhythmic thuds from the room adjacent to them. It almost sounded like a robotic mechanism repeatedly running into the wall every five to ten seconds, but getting nowhere.

  Figuring Vazquez was suffering through a similarly strange dream and kicking or punching the wall, Metzger slowly opened his eyes to find Jillian studying his face, as though questioning where they went from here.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” Metzger commented, staring at the wall directly ahead of him that held a painting of some country cottage beside a river that looked dreamy compared to anything in the apocalypse.

  In truth their love making was animalistic, fierce and almost desperate as though neither felt certain they’d ever find the opportunity to have sex with another living being again. Jillian didn’t seem experienced, but Metzger wasn’t a great judge of bedroom performance, having only slept with two women previously. Before, he wondered if each might be his last, tending to stay committed in relationships, ready to live out the American Dream of having a job, a family, and a house in the suburbs.

  Now he believed staying in a hotel without power or hot water felt luxurious.

  “What’s so hard to believe?” Jillian asked. “It’s not like we’re strangers. We’ve been riding together for days now.”

  “It just feels a little weird. Before, we never would have been on the same wavelength. I had a career, and you were probably out with a fake ID, hanging out with frat boys.”

  “Don’t sound so high and mighty,” Jillian objected playfully. “You know me well enough to know I was into my studies, and not partying, and you’re not exactly old enough to be my dad, Daniel.”

  “I know it’s just the mentality from the old world talking, but it feels a little wrong,” he said, prompting her to draw him into a long kiss until the thumping noise from next door distracted both of them.

  “How long has that been going on?” Metzger inquired, rolling his eyes at the annoyance.

  “At least an hour now,” Jillian answered. “It kept waking me up.”

  Now Metzger felt alarmed, sitting up in bed. He sprung from the bed and began replacing his clothes, making certain he had at least a few of his weapons handy before leaving the room.

  “What are you doing?” Jillian asked when he walked to the exit door.

  “I’ve heard that kind of sound before,” Metzger answered, keeping his voice low. “They sometimes bump into walls repeatedly when they hear something on the other side, or don’t know where to go next.”

  “They?”

  Metzger nodded affirmatively, so both knew he was speaking of the undead.

  “You can’t go out there alone,” Jillian said quickly, tossing aside the sheets and revealing her nude form for the briefest of moments before she snagged her clothing and began getting dressed.

  For his part, Metzger started to turn away, trying to be honorable before remembering that he had seen virtually every part of her the previous evening by the thin beam of a flashlight. He wasn’t quite sure how to act around Jillian now, because they weren’t exactly an item, or familiar in every way with one another. Part of him wanted to maintain that safe emotional distance until they decided where to take their relationship.

  “There aren’t that many out there,” he informed her, peering through the side of the blinds, able to see some of the ground level below.

  “Still, you shouldn’t go alone.”

  Metzger pulled the .357 from its holster, realizing he hadn’t taken time to reload it after getting safely into the hotel room. He also had a semi-automatic pistol with him if he required firepower, but he certainly preferred the survival knife or the short sword for dispatching zombies if necessary. Stuffing the .357 in the back of his belt, Metzger held the other pistol in a ready position, his free hand capable of snatching the knife from his belt, or the sword from the pack he slung around his back in an instant.

  Not waiting for Jillian to finish getting dressed, he slipped out the door, using the security tab to keep it from shutting completely. He immediately walked to the front of the adjacent room, preparing to look inside, hoping to spy the cause of the disturbance when a face suddenly appeared at the busted portion of the window. The face of a child, scratched and bloodied with streaks of crimson running through her blond h
air pressed between the edges of the glass, further ripping the flesh from the tendons and bones beneath as her undead form attempted to get at Metzger.

  Startled, he stepped back as the small arm reached for him, wondering how the undead child got into the room at all. More importantly, he wondered what happened to Vazquez, or if the man remained in some form of jeopardy, bitten and dying, or trapped inside the bathroom without the benefit of a weapon.

  Metzger drew the knife, hesitating momentarily as thoughts of his odd dream swirled within his mind. Though he had never seen any of his students transformed into little monsters, he thought back to them whenever he found a miniature zombie that wanted to take a bite out of him. Although he didn’t substitute the zombie in front of him for one of his students, he wondered if somewhere a parent, or a teacher, gave thought to this particular young one.

  Perhaps they shared a similar fate and simply craved human flesh as well.

  Shaking emotional ties from his mind, he quickly stabbed the child zombie in the skull during the midst of its growl. She fell back, allowing him to stick his head closer to the window for an examination of the hotel room’s interior.

  “Juan?” he called out softly, trying to avoid attracting more trouble to the second story.

  No answer.

  He tried the door, finding it firmly secured, knowing he couldn’t personally fit through the window. Studying the opening momentarily, he also thought it doubtful a zombie, however small it might be, possessed dexterity enough to climb up and through the opening. Just barely past dawn, with zombies milling around below, and the others likely sleeping in, he didn’t want to make a ruckus. If Vazquez was bitten, there was no helping him at this point, and if he was trapped in the bathroom, he was now safe whenever he emerged.

  Jillian finally entered the balcony from the room, so Metzger turned to make certain she secured the door open behind her. She let the door bar catch against the frame, taking his side for a peek inside the room. It required only a few seconds for her to find the deceased little girl on the floor, explaining the bumping noise they heard next door.

  “Juan?” she asked quietly.

  Metzger shrugged.

  “Haven’t seen him yet. I’m going to start eliminating some of these things since we’re up.”

  Jillian followed him down the winding stairwell to the ground level, finding the undead rather scattered in the early light of day. Most of them probably couldn’t scale the stairs upward, or lost interest once their prey disappeared from sight. They often followed the most recent sight or sound that caught their attention, requiring stimulation to keep them occupied. Reaching the ground level, Metzger immediately had to plunge the knife into a female zombie’s skull, downing her instantly. Pulling the knife and the blood droplets that followed from the zombie’s head, he noticed several nearby stragglers had taken notice of his actions.

  Not waiting for a signal, Jillian used a hatchet she had picked up somewhere along her adventurous path to chop one of them in the side of the skull, putting it down. Metzger made certain she was able to retrieve it from the bone and flesh before moving over to the vehicles, taking down a black zombie with a local baseball jersey that wasn’t worth selling in a yard sale for a quarter with all sorts of bodily fluids now staining its formerly white surface.

  A few more undead took notice and headed their way, but the total within their line of vision was half a dozen. Metzger was about to wipe out any local danger when a loud thumping noise reached his ears from one side, causing him to spin and look. Inside the smaller of the two trucks he found Vazquez pounding his fists against one of the windows.

  “Juan?” he questioned, walking over to the passenger side of the vehicle. “Get out of there, man.”

  “I can’t,” Vazquez answered through the window since he couldn’t likely roll it down without the keys.

  Metzger looked over the window, finding the man wearing only underwear inside the vehicle.

  “This is no time for modesty,” Metzger said, reassessing the danger closing in on his position. “Get out here and help us.”

  “I need pants,” Vazquez insisted.

  Rolling his eyes, Metzger took a few steps forward, striking another zombie in the skull with the knife, rendering it motionless once it slumped to the ground. Jillian managed to finish off another one with two strikes from the hatchet. The four remaining zombies were some distance away, leaving him time to converse with Vazquez again.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I heard a thump against the door after you two kept me up half the night,” Vazquez began, implying that Metzger and Jillian weren’t as subtle as they originally thought with their bedroom activities. “So I went to answer it and this kid zombie came charging inside. I barely got the fuck out of there with my life, and they were still down in the parking lot, so I jumped in here to stay safe.”

  “No pants, and no weapons, eh?”

  “Funny.”

  “What’s his deal?” Jillian called over, still on guard in case additional undead drew near.

  “He doesn’t want you seeing him naked.”

  Jillian shook her head as though she could care less.

  “I’ll keep my back turned if you want to run him up through our room to his,” she offered a solution.

  Metzger shrugged, seeing no flaws with the plan.

  Once Jillian remained turned around, Vazquez opened the door and began following Metzger up the stairs.

  “Don’t be tackling all of those on your own,” Metzger insisted to Jillian. “Everyone else will be up soon and we can deal with them then.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jillian said without turning around.

  Metzger led the way up the stairs and through the room, unlocking the adjoining door to Vazquez’s room.

  “Were we really that loud?” he asked before Vazquez could step through the threshold.

  “I was dead tired and you two kept me up during your romp in the sack. I drifted off eventually and lost track of time, which is part of the reason that zombie caught me off-guard.”

  “Sorry about that,” Metzger said for both the noisy sex and the zombie intruder, feeling his face flush from embarrassment.

  “At least someone around here is getting some,” Vazquez said with a shrug before entering his room and finding the motionless zombie child beside the door.

  He picked up the corpse, opened the door, and hurled it over the guard railing to the ground below where it made a squishy splat noise with several bones breaking against the hard surface. Turning around, he snatched some of his clothing from beside the bed, prepared to get dressed and start his day.

  “You could sleep in,” Metzger suggested, feeling somewhat guilty.

  “I slept in the truck. Besides, the others will be up soon. We might as well clear the way so we can get moving when they’re ready.”

  Metzger walked out the door and down the stairs, finding Jillian dealing with another member of the undead group. She lodged the hatchet along the side of its skull, dropping it, but having some trouble pulling the weapon away.

  “You’re too strong for your own good,” Metzger said, stepping on the top of the skull, which allowed her to free the blade.

  “I just wish there was an end to these things,” she said, shaking the hatchet violently toward the ground in one swift motion to free the blade of the blood and brain matter clogging the business end of the tool.

  By the time the duo finished executing the last of the zombies for the final time, the rest of the group reached the ground level, prepared to start their morning and head for the military base. Metzger didn’t know what to expect when they arrived, thinking Bryce’s superior officers might not allow the group into the base, or Bryce might already be gone. Metzger understood the risks associated with rolling straight up to the facility, but he banked on military men not being cold-blooded enough to shoot civilians on sight without at least speaking to them or providing fair warning.

&nbs
p; While some of the others packed belongings and relieved themselves in the hotel rooms, Luke took a few minutes to further educate Samantha on the use of firearms. He went over some of the pointers Albert had taught her, letting her aim a pistol outward, making certain she looked through the iron sights accurately. Luke also reviewed her stance before showing her how to drop the magazine from the gun and place a new one inside. He didn’t show her how to rack the slide to ready the gun, because that was likely a lesson for another day.

  Being in the open world had opened his eyes up to how the living and the dead threatened their group, so he made certain she stood a fighting chance against any threat.

  “When are we going to shoot?” she inquired.

  “When we find a place where the creatures aren’t around,” Luke promised. “I’ll show you how to load it, shoot it, and everything.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” Luke said, holding out his pinky so they could pinky swear and make a pact.

  In the meantime, Metzger and Jillian tried playing it cool regarding their evening events, but both realized quickly the others were eyeballing them suspiciously. Vazquez didn’t say a word, but he, too, acted strangely in their eyes as everyone silently loaded their gear into the three vehicles.

  “What the hell is wrong with you three?” Sutton finally asked bluntly.

  “Nothing,” all three answered simultaneously.

  Sutton made a face that indicated he knew better, but also suspected he might not want to hear what recent secrets they harbored. Even Buster wore a strange expression, as though having heard something his ears weren’t accustomed to the previous evening.

  A few minutes later the group left the minefield of zombie corpses along the hotel property, heading east through the remainder of Suffolk and into Portsmouth. Metzger asked Jillian to drive this time so he could study the routes and decide the best course of action. He looked at the maps available to him, finding the group could drive directly north toward a body of water almost directly across from the base, but if boats weren’t available they’d have to double back. Thinking very few, if any, recreational boats remained in the area, because people were desperate to get off land, Metzger decided to take the land route to the base.