The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days

by O'Brian, Patrick J.

  When he returned from his short walk, Albert stated he believed something visited the unsuspecting family in the form of an injured neighbor or church member. He found three bodies inside the residence, and never really cared to speak much about what he saw. When pressed, he revealed two of the bodies were animated when he arrived, and all three were no longer a threat to anyone by the time he left.

  Neither man ever anticipated becoming a father, and the topic of adoption never truly came up during their years together because their lives already felt complete. They understood the laws in New York allowed for them to legally wed, which they hadn’t, and even if they made their love official, two men adopting a child wasn’t a typical scenario unless one of them was the natural father. Despite their lack of experience with children, or the lack of desire to raise a child before Samantha knocked on their door, both felt like papa bears almost immediately when she became their responsibility.

  Obligated by no law, the men could have tried giving her to a family with children, or acted without morals and let the child fend for herself in the open. Neither ever suggested such a notion, because both knew they had atoning to do after shutting themselves away from the world when disaster struck. Albert felt especially terrible after abandoning his nursing duties at the hospital, despite almost certain death being his reward if he’d stayed.

  Now on his own, missing his former lover, located in a strange place with only a child to keep him company, Luke missed his old life more than ever.

  “What’s wrong?” Samantha asked at his side as he searched the living room of the house where they’d been staying for any remaining weapons or useful items.

  “Some bad people robbed us,” he answered, seeing the place overturned, and not by his hand.

  “What did they take?”

  “Our guns,” he said, looking at her with dismay in his eyes. “Can you help me search for any guns or knives left inside the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Carefully,” he emphasized before leading the way to the back of the house.

  Samantha didn’t come out of her shell easily after the shocking deaths of her parents, and often when she answered Luke and Albert, her words weren’t full sentences. Only recently had she begun to speak more often, and usually only when the others weren’t around. Luke wasn’t sure he’d call his relationship with Samantha as bonded, but he didn’t know what else to call it.

  Feeling almost certain the second vehicle of carnival hoodlums reached town and raided their residence, Luke believed Dark Lady had some form of communication with them, or they wouldn’t have known where to search.

  He hadn’t liked the idea of bringing Samantha so close to the property where the woman and her followers made camp. Although he saw Vazquez’s undead corpse in the yard, he didn’t think his adopted daughter had made the connection, and he wasn’t about to discuss such a morbid topic with her. Losing a friend, a valuable member of their group who could pilot an aircraft, hit Luke hard. He dared not dwell on the loss because he and Samantha remained in danger until they left, the carnival people left, or a dispute between the two factions left only one standing.

  Worried about the others, now pursued by the second vehicle full of dangerous survivors, he began looking in every kitchen drawer or cabinet, wondering if his group members hid some of the firearms exceptionally well. He found a pocket knife on the floor beside the depowered refrigerator, scooping it up as a first and last resort until he located something more suitable. Continuing his search, he monitored Samantha as she mimicked his actions, looking beneath clothing, and pulling out every drawer the various furniture offered.

  “Find anything?” he called out.

  “Not yet,” she answered.

  Once the girl grew accustomed to being around Luke and Albert, the latter decided to show her how to use a firearm. Although not vehemently opposed to the idea, Luke wasn’t thrilled about the idea of an eight-year-old child waving a gun around like a toy. He eventually learned he was wrong on two counts. One, no child was allowed to act youthful in the apocalypse, because childish behavior wasn’t an afforded amenity. Two, Samantha understood the dangers around her. She didn’t always express her thoughts and feelings perfectly, but Luke was beginning to understand her distinct way of communicating. Dealing with a child was new to him, but he strived to make their relationship work now that Albert was no longer around to assume half of the responsibility.

  Luke didn’t exactly keep a calendar around, but he knew they were under two months into the world’s major change. Samantha had bounced back well, considering she witnessed both of her parents being ripped apart.

  He couldn’t fathom how four marauders went through the house so quickly and efficiently, taking every decent weapon from the group. It occurred to him that Dark Lady and her minions knew about the others the moment they arrived, keeping tabs on them and waiting for one of them to slip up. Vazquez likely took a casual stroll, as he sometimes did to clear his mind, getting swiped up by the thugs before he sensed any danger. Perhaps he spotted them, and the gypsies couldn’t afford to let him live to tell the tale.

  Deciding to check further into the house, Luke opened bathroom cabinets and checked under everything, hoping one of his roommates hid a weapon he didn’t know about. Unfortunately, they kept the weapons mainly in one area except for the guns and knives they personally carried. In his hurry to join the others halfway across town, Luke hadn’t grabbed any firearms, feeling certain his companions had firepower enough to cover them.

  Live and learn, he thought as he looked back, seeing Samantha standing like a frozen statue between the front and rear doors of the house, near the living room. Her eyes focused on something at the door they had entered, and he didn’t dare speak a word in case a living person or the undead mesmerized her.

  Carefully, he stepped over to her, trying to avoid making a sound because he didn’t want to lose the element of surprise, regardless of who or what distracted Samantha.

  When he carefully looked around the corner, Luke saw a figure standing in the doorway, somewhat silhouetted by the daylight behind him. The stranger and Samantha had locked eyes, but for entirely different reasons as she shivered in terror, and he made animalistic breathing noises with his face obscured by various skins from creatures or deceased human beings. Recognizing the man from afar a few weeks prior, and more recently with Dark Lady, his unmistakable appearance tended to burn itself into one’s memory.

  Covered virtually head to toe in fur and various sewn together skin patches, the man sounded simple as he stood there examining Samantha like an object to be taken. He made a few groaning noises that sounded orgasmic in nature, as though he couldn’t control himself, and Luke finally stepped in front of his adopted child, carefully ushering her behind him.

  His heart pounded from nervousness, because he’d never been much for confrontation. After dealing with bullies and hateful people his entirely life, Luke preferred to avoid conflict, but now his papa bear instincts took over. For possibly the first time in his life, he decided to risk life and limb to protect the child beside him.

  “Go hide,” he instructed her, and she wasted no time dashing into the other half of the house.

  Following her every move, the man at the door attempted to follow her by cutting through the alternate hallway, but Luke ran forward, intercepting him and tackling him into a chair that fell sideways as both men toppled into it clumsily, hurling them to the floor. Luke considered that the man might possess a weapon, so he stood to distance himself from harm, but the man shoved him into a wall, denting the drywall before Luke fell to the floor, momentarily stunned.

  Shaking his head, Luke regained his footing as a shriek emanated from a bedroom down the hall. He navigated the hallway quickly, finding the odd man standing in the doorway, blocking Samantha’s exit. Terrified, she stood behind the bed where she’d chosen to hide, horrified by
the stranger who made no attempt to hide his infatuation with her.

  With Samantha safely far enough away, Luke threw his shoulder into the odd man’s back, knocking them both into the bedroom.

  “Run!” he shouted to Samantha. “Get outside and run!”

  Out of patience, the man turned and struck Luke along the jaw, overpowering him immediately before wrapping his large hands around Luke’s throat and squeezing. Gasping for air, Luke reached out for any useful nearby object, but before his fingers located anything, the man stood and threw Luke against yet another wall, but this time the back of Luke’s skull took the brunt of the impact, leaving him on the verge of unconsciousness for at least a few seconds.

  Collecting his wits, Luke got to his feet again, and when he stumbled outside through the door he’d used to enter with Samantha, he found several familiar vehicles in the driveway, but he didn’t see Samantha or the man who pursued her. Horrific thoughts ran through his mind as he envisioned her being scooped up and carried off for to be violated, or raised in the murderous image of the carnies.

  Luke whipped his head in every direction as he walked forward, searching desperately for Samantha. He couldn’t imagine how they could have gotten away from the property so quickly, feeling certain he hadn’t blanked out for more than a few seconds. About to weave between a few of the vehicles, Luke spied something out of the corner of his eye that caused him to duck down momentarily.

  Now the strange man stared into one of the cars, and Luke surmised Samantha had jumped into the vehicle as a new hiding place, knowing she couldn’t outrun him. Making strange noises once again, the man stared intently into the glass, touching it with his hands as though carrying out some ritual before he touched or grabbed the girl. Only a car door separated them, and Luke wasn’t confident Samantha found time enough to lock the car doors once she jumped inside.

  Taking action, he snuck around the car, assuming a strategic attack position before getting a running start and tackling the man from one side, knocking him to the ground.

  Changing his tactics this time, Luke managed to maintain his footing, backing away from the man, hoping to be pursued, allowing Samantha time enough to escape the area. Now highly annoyed, the animalistic man gave Luke his wish, quickly rising from the ground before rushing his attacker, who ran down to the street, constantly looking behind him to make certain the strange man didn’t break off the pursuit.

  Narrowly avoiding a diving tackle, Luke realized his escape only served to raise the ire of the man, who regained his footing and began the pursuit anew. Doubling back to the cars, because he now understood this man was faster and stronger, Luke weaved between the vehicles, discovering that Samantha hadn’t taken the opportunity to run at all. Seeing a shadow, she looked up from her spot in the back of the car, where she’d either been ducking down, or searching for something.

  Noticing the man passing the vehicle was Luke, and not the man covered in recycled animal skins and fur, she glanced only a few seconds before ducking down again. With no time to spare, Luke ran around the few cars until the man caught up with him and brought him down near the road, pinning him face down in the dewy grass. Luke immediately attempted to wrest his body from the grip of the man, like a robin pinned by a bird of prey, but his struggles simply sent blades of grass flying into the air.

  In no mood to have his observations of Samantha interrupted again, the man slugged Luke across the face twice with a closed fist after turning him over like Luke was a toddler. The two blows brought Luke to the brink of unconsciousness as he felt only pain and disorientation. Next, the man wrapped his large hands around Luke’s throat, squeezing immediately. Luke bucked a few times, and brought his knees up to strike the man in the back, but neither caused the stranger to flinch, because his blue eyes bored into Luke with hatred and utter contempt for interrupting his plans.

  Already compromised from the last barrage, Luke felt his eyes begin to roll back in his skull, wondering what the afterlife might bring, who would take care of Samantha if she survived, and if his group might return to save him at the last second. What seemed like a thousand thoughts crossed his mind at once, and he wondered if this sensation was what people meant by their lives flashing before them.

  Just before reaching unconsciousness for what would assuredly be the last time, Luke heard a gunshot. He didn’t know if the sound was real, or something his mind experienced in some out-of-body experience. The ringing in his ears indicated the gunfire was legitimate, and his eyes noticed the bloody hole in the center of his attacker’s chest before the man gave a light groan. The man’s eyes focused on nothing in particular, appearing dazed until they froze in a half-open position when he slumped to one side. Behind him, Samantha stood still, her eyes in disbelief, her hands still grasping the revolver she used to shoot the odd man.

  Light smoke rose from the barrel of the gun, and Samantha appeared incapable of movement as Luke pushed his assailant the rest of the way off, standing quickly to take Samantha’s side and secure the gun in his hands. He stuffed the firearm behind him, quickly scooping her up into a hug as he carried her toward the house, trying to avoid having her look at the body behind them by angling his walk a particular direction.

  He brought her inside, flipping a cushioned chair right side up, before placing her in it. Feeling sympathy for her, having to endure such a bizarre ordeal, he knew he needed to deal with the body in the yard for her sake. Luke knelt down beside her, seeing her still in shock, not saying a word as her eyes vacantly stared at the wall ahead of her.

  “Baby, I have to go outside and move his body,” he said as gently and kindly as possible, uncertain if she heard the words he spoke. He pulled her into a light hug. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

  “It’s okay, Daddy,” she replied, and Luke wasn’t certain if Samantha said the words, or her condition spoke for her, reverting back to a better time in her life.

  Clasping both of her shoulders with a gentle squeeze, he looked into her eyes as he drew back slightly, realizing she meant the words in the present, cognizant in mind.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, hugging her again, and not letting go so easily this time. “I’m going to make sure the bad man can’t hurt us.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Luke reached back, pulling the gun from behind him and setting it on the chair’s arm beside her. He understood why Albert wanted to instruct her on how to protect herself, because people in the new world didn’t adhere to boundaries and laws. People with moral compasses were the most susceptible, and children had few protections than ever.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “You’ve got protection right here if you need it.”

  Samantha nodded, though she seemed reluctant to touch the gun again. She understood the consequences of her actions, which Luke considered a good thing. He felt thankful for her intervention, but he couldn’t really discuss the ramifications with her, at least not yet. He hoped she never needed to use a firearm for real ever again.

  He doubted he needed to puncture the brain of the dead man, but Luke wanted to be certain the man didn’t return to life. The science on the topic of reanimation seemed sketchy at best, and he wasn’t taking chances. Truthfully, Luke wanted to stab the man as retribution for nearly killing him, even if the man wasn’t alive to experience pain and agony.

  Stepping outside, Luke spied the body immediately, portions of skin and fur blowing in the breeze. It reminded Luke of his childhood, when his Golden Retriever, Dusty, was struck by a car and killed early one morning. Much to his horror, Luke made the discovery when he awoke one Saturday, expecting a day of frolic and play, instead finding his dog lying beside the road in a heap. He remembered watching his parents bury his best childhood friend through tear-filled eyes as the clouds let loose with a cold, miserable drizzle that added to the already somber mood.

  Moisture formed in the corner of his
right eye currently, because he’d just survived almost certain death. Feeling almost certain Samantha watched his every move, he discreetly wiped the tear away before running a hand through his hair.

  He walked over to the body, observing it only a moment before reaching into his pocket and drawing the pocket knife. Folding out the blade, he knelt down, half expecting the man to jump to life like some kind of horror movie antagonist, but nothing happened as he surgically slid the knife into the side of the man’s head, bringing closure to the ordeal.

  Looking back to the house, he found Samantha standing at the door, watching his every move, and he knew from that moment forward he was her role model in virtually every aspect of life. A month before, he wouldn’t have found the courage to save anyone except himself and his partner, but now his blood coursed with parental instincts. He would die for the girl, and she’d saved his life, cementing a bond already in motion before necessary actions on both of their parts.

  Wiping the knife on the man’s clothing and fur combination, Luke closed the blade, careful not to slice his skin. He walked over to Samantha, still feeling woozy from the man clubbing him with bare fists and nearly strangling him.

  “Where should we go?” he asked, since Samantha appeared fully aware of her surroundings now.

  “We need to help the others,” she replied, warming his heart with the spirit only a child could provide.

  “You’re right. We do.”

  Twenty-one

  “We have a problem,” Metzger noted as they walked Fournier across the bridge to the area where the isolated house stood on the other side.

  Fournier had regained consciousness shortly after Bryce rendered him unconscious, saying nothing as he scowled constantly at his three captors.

  “What’s that?” Bryce asked.

  “How the hell are we going to fit all of us and three or four prisoners in those Humvees once we cross the border?”

  “We won’t need all of the prisoners,” Bryce replied, which sounded ominous to his brother.