“Mark. Call me Mark.”
Metzger nodded, not entirely comfortable with being casual regarding his brother’s direct supervisor.
“Has anyone talked to Isabella yet?” he asked.
Dascher nodded slowly.
“I did the notification last night with one of our chaplains,” he said with a disheartened sigh. “She asked about you.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to face her just yet.”
“What happened over there wasn’t your fault,” Dascher assured him. “You’re a civilian, and I’m still not entirely sure they should’ve brought you along.”
Metzger nodded again, knowing that his presence made their mission a great deal easier because he knew exactly where to lead them.
“How is Izzy holding up?” Metzger inquired, using his sister-in-law’s nickname.
“It was a shock,” Dascher answered. “I’m not sure how she’s going to break it to Nathan.”
“I know we live in different times,” Metzger said hesitantly, “but they’ll be taken care of by what’s left of the government, won’t they?”
“They’re part of the family,” Dascher said, his expression firm and protective, “so they’ll be welcome here as long as Isabella chooses to stay.”
“And what about me?” Metzger asked, mostly to gauge the commander’s reaction to his question.
Dascher didn’t give away any distinctive visual cues, which informed Metzger that the man knew something about why he’d been treated differently since the end of the mission.
“Are you wanting to stay?” the commander answered his question with a question.
“I’m not sure I have a reason to,” Metzger answered, trying to frame his answers within ambiguous context. “My brother is gone, and I’m not sure my sister-in-law wants me here as a reminder of that.”
“I’d hate to see you go,” Dascher said, his expression indicating he spoke truthfully. “You’ve got a lot of Bryce’s qualities, and you could be a real asset around here. Besides, it’s dangerous out there.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“I reckon you do,” the commander said, tapping his fingers on the desk momentarily before speaking again. “Are you thinking about finding your old group?”
“I’m not sure,” Metzger answered. “I don’t even know where I’d begin to look.”
“Isabella could really use your support,” Dascher said, as though slowly working into a sales pitch. “I can take you to her whenever you feel you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” Metzger said, standing to leave as Dascher also rose to shake his hand.
“If you need anything at all, I’m available,” the commander added before Metzger turned to leave.
He exited the ship feeling somewhat uneasy, as though everyone on the base except him knew some deep, dark secret.
Not quite ready to confront his sister-in-law, Metzger walked in the direction of the airstrip, finding the two military men continuing to tail him, and not being very discreet about their assignment. When he asked one of the stationed guards about Timmons, the man replied that the captain was flying for some assignment, and Metzger detected no deception in the response. The soldier added that he didn’t think Timmons would be gone very long, believing the destination was nearby Washington, D.C.
Depressed and despondent, Metzger returned to his quarters where his body gave in and let him sleep for a few hours.
***
Early the next morning, Metzger watched a few crews depart the base on foot, with a few vehicles behind them, to further clean up Norfolk of debris, bodies, and animated bodies. He wanted to help, to keep busy in any way possible, but knew asking to leave the base’s secure walls wasn’t an option.
No one told him leaving wasn’t an option, but at all times two soldiers monitored his every move, and shortly after breakfast that morning he was summoned to a lab for another blood draw. He complied without outward question, but internally, he knew they wanted something from the samples he provided. Playing dumb, he followed the soldier sent to fetch him into a building now converted into a scientific facility. From the looks of the interior, it might have originally served as a medical facility, or some kind of lab, so little renovation would have been required.
A man in a white lab coat drew two vials of blood from his left arm, and Metzger watched with indifference as the blood ran through the plastic tubing into the vials. Blood and guts never bothered him much in his previous life, and they certainly didn’t faze him now that he’d cut into more body parts than a pathologist while battling the undead.
“What’s with all the blood draws?” he asked the man conversationally once the vials were carefully set aside.
“Just testing for any changes in your blood after your visit to the hot zone,” the man answered casually.
He wore bifocals, but Metzger found no other identifying objects on the man like a nametag, wedding band, or any insignias. Clean-shaven, the man possessed a head of thick, black hair, and Metzger felt certain he hadn’t met this particular doctor or scientist previously. Quickly looking beyond the man, Metzger scanned the isolated room for clues, but it appeared blander than any doctor’s office he’d ever visited. No posters lined the walls, no paperwork appeared atop the nearby desk, and no laptop or tablet awaited patient information entry.
“You guys drew blood from me yesterday,” Metzger decided to press. “Did they lose the sample?”
“Nah,” the man said, waving off the notion. “It’s just a follow-up lab to look for any changes. Everyone aboard your flight is being tested.”
Except for Bryce, Metzger thought, recalling the swarm of zombies attacking his brother just short of the plane’s ramp.
“Anything else?” Metzger asked, acting as though he were anxious to leave the facility.
“You’re free to go,” the man answered. “Thanks.”
Metzger got up from the chair where he’d been sitting, touched the cotton ball held against the inside of his elbow by an elastic wrap, and exited through the door into the main hallway. Standing still momentarily, he listened and watched for any activity, deciding to move along before the man in the lab coat exited the room behind him. Spying a few cameras along key portions of the hallway, Metzger knew he couldn’t move about undetected, because much of the base, and some of the town, now had power thanks to the aircraft carriers docked nearby. He wasn’t sure the military possessed manpower enough to monitory security footage, but he dared not press his luck.
Even so, he walked along the hallway, glancing into each open door as he went, finding no useful answers. Taking a right turn, he passed a lab with numerous computers and scientific equipment inside, including microscopes. The door remained open, with no one inside, and he’d decided to take a chance and step inside to look for answers when a female scientist rounded the corner down the hall in front of him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, simply walking past the room before giving her a courteous nod when they passed in the narrow hallway.
Nothing in the building was marked as a restricted area, so he was perfectly free to walk about without question. If anyone had asked what he was doing, Metzger would have replied he was looking for an exit.
When he stepped outside, Metzger exhaled heavily, taking in the morning air. He looked around, seeing his two personal shadows in the distance, before strolling over to the airfield once again.
He approached the guard a bit apprehensively, wondering if his privileges of seeing Timmons might have been revoked, but the soldier recognized him and promptly called someone in the hangar area without even acknowledging Metzger until he’d inquired about the pilot.
“He’s here,” the man said. “Come on through.”
“Thanks,” Metzger said, noticing the two men watching his every move didn’t follow him inside the airfield area.
A few m
inutes later he was guided to the captain, who carefully looked over a smaller plane for any issues that might affect flight.
“Hey!” Timmons called upon seeing Metzger, wearing his green flight suit as though he might have reason to fly later in the day. “I heard about your brother,” the pilot added, heartily shaking his hand as his expression grew somber. “I’m so sorry. They told me when I landed last night.”
“Thank you,” Metzger replied, suddenly realizing he didn’t feel much like talking.
He supposed he simply wanted to be around familiar people other than the last standing members of his family. More so, he wanted to leave the base and never look back, because he didn’t feel much like speaking with Isabella due to his lingering guilt.
“Want to go over this with me?” Timmons asked, pointing to the plane. “Might do you some good to be distracted.”
“I still haven’t faced my sister-in-law,” Metzger said, following the captain around the sides and belly of the plane, looking for any hazards.
“You’ve got to talk to her, son,” Timmons said, thumbing a corner piece of metal sticking up from its normal position before jotting down a note atop a clipboard. “What’s the problem?”
“I just feel guilty.”
“For not saving your brother? That wasn’t your job. Sounds to me like he died a hero.”
“Maybe I just feel guilty about being alive.”
“Don’t ever think that,” Timmons said sternly. “Every day we’re given on this planet is a blessing, especially now.”
“What the hell do I say?”
“You don’t say anything,” Timmons said as though he were a coach. “She just wants some reassurance that her husband didn’t die in vain. Besides, you’ve got that little nephew to protect.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Metzger conceded, knowing the conversation was inevitable. “I’m just not sure I can stay here much longer.”
“That’s crazy talk. Where the fuck would you go if you left?”
“I’ve managed on my own before. And my group is out there somewhere.”
Timmons scoffed.
“The military isn’t going to boot you out of here, Dan. You should probably stick around for the sake of your family, and yourself.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Well, in my case,” Timmons said as he pulled a wrench from his back pocket and tapped on something underneath the plane, “it’s purely selfish because I wouldn’t have anyone left to give flying pointers to.”
Metzger chuckled.
“Yeah. I’m a model student.”
“You’re easier to teach than some of the hotheads I’ve been assigned to over the years. These kids come to the military thinking they know everything.”
Metzger understood how complicated the military jets and planes compared to the Cessna he flew during emergency circumstances. Their training required years of classwork and flying, causing him to question if another generation of military pilots would ever exist.
“And you were mature at that age?” Metzger asked skeptically.
“Hell, no. I was drinking and chasing pussy like everyone else when I got leave. Women were putty in my hands when I told them I was a pilot.”
Metzger suppressed a laugh by covering his mouth, not because he doubted what Timmons said, but because the man before him appeared refined, settled in both position and life.
“I need to ask you something serious, Scott,” he said to the pilot, leaning against a nearby toolbox, seeing no one else near them who could eavesdrop.
“Shoot.”
“Ever since we got back from this latest mission, I’ve had two guys in uniform tailing me from a distance.”
Timmons arched an eyebrow, openly questioning why anyone would follow Metzger around the base.
“Did you piss someone off?”
“No. Not like that. It’s as though they’ve been ordered to track my every move.”
“That seems odd. Sure you’re not imagining this? You’ve been through a lot these past few days.”
Metzger shook his head.
“I’m not imagining it. And what’s weirder is the Marines on our mission got a call about some secondary objective, and I think I was that objective.”
“Why do you think that?” Timmons asked, stopping what he was doing to give Metzger his full attention.
“Because they held me back from helping my brother, and when their leader said ‘secondary objective secure’ he looked directly at me. They’ve also drawn blood from me twice since I’ve returned.”
Timmons appeared skeptical.
“I work for these people, kid. There’s no reason they’d single you out like that. They’ve got bigger issues to worry about.”
“Okay,” Metzger said, not about to drop the subject, or confess to being delusional. “Walk with me to your guard’s area. You’ll see these two jokers standing outside, waiting for me.”
Providing a doubtful smirk, Timmons pocketed the wrench and motioned for Metzger to lead the way. A few minutes later, the two approached the military guard, who gave a nod to each of them, and Metzger looked beyond the perimeter only a few seconds before finding the two men currently ordered to follow him for unknown reasons.
“See?”
“That is peculiar,” Timmons admitted. “I can get to the bottom of this right now.”
As Timmons turned to carry out an inquiry, Metzger caught the pilot by the arm, preventing him from walking away.
“Probably best if you don’t,” Metzger said. “No one’s told me a thing, and I don’t want you getting in trouble over me.”
“What are they going to do, ground me?”
Metzger caught the double meaning of the pilot’s words, but he didn’t want Timmons to risk anything by helping him. He regretted telling the man about his woes, but he needed to speak with someone, because he couldn’t make sense of the past few days in his own mind. As though divine intervention entered his life at that moment, he spotted Isabella and Nathan crossing the base in front of him. His sister-in-law looked as though she might be taking a walk to clear her head.
“I’ve got to go,” Metzger said to the pilot. “Please don’t say anything about all of this to anyone.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Timmons replied, though Metzger felt the pilot might still intervene on his behalf.
Once the two shook hands, Metzger exited through the posted guard area, trying to catch up as the two soldiers adopted a leisurely pace while following him. Within a few minutes he caught up to Isabella, who held Nathan’s hand while they stood before the water, near a few of the moored ships.
“Hey, Izzy,” he said, hugging his sister-in-law when she turned to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“You?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit as she stifled back sobs and tears. “He was your brother. We all lost him.”
Metzger knelt down to his nephew, who appeared to want nothing to do with human contact at the moment. He started to address Nathan, but decided not to begin a conversation when he couldn’t find the right words to tell a child.
“Let me find someone to watch Nathan a few minutes,” Isabella said with concern and mourning in her green eyes. “I want you to tell me everything that happened.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m absolutely certain,” she answered with resolve.
A few minutes later, Nathan spent time in a daycare of sorts with other children and a few parents, while Isabella led Metzger to a building inside the base where they were provided some privacy. She’d taken notice that Metzger kept looking behind him at the two soldiers who didn’t bother disguising the fact they were following him across the base.
“Why do you keep looking back there?” she inquired.
“I’ll explain after I tell you about all of the o
ther odd shit that’s been going on,” he answered, keeping his promise after he spent a fairly lengthy amount of time giving her details about the mission and the past day.
Due to limited seating options, they sat atop a trundle bed, facing one another before Metzger revealed the painful nature of the mission in elaborate detail. He tried several times to spare Isabella from some of the agony he felt, but she insisted on hearing each little piece. Both of them cried openly during his tale, and even hugged a few times, sharing their pain. When Metzger reached the part of the story where he returned to the base, however, they both turned serious and dried their eyes.
“I just got him back,” Isabella said mournfully a minute after drying her eyes. “The Navy asks so much of us, and we sit back and wait for our husbands and wives to return. Until they don’t.”
“The undead would’ve stormed the plane,” Metzger stated. “Bryce did what he felt was best to save the rest of us. There were just too many of them.”
Isabella nodded, though his words brought no comfort to her.
“We haven’t been out there,” she said. “You know better than anyone how dangerous it is while we’ve been safely tucked behind these walls.”
Both of them sat silently a moment, unsure of what to say until a thought came to Isabella.
“They’ve taken samples of Nathan’s blood a few times this past week.”
“Not yours?”
“No. And I thought it was odd, but I figured they had a reason if they were using limited resources to sample his blood.”
“I’m not sure how long I can stay here if I can’t trust these people,” Metzger said. “But I can’t really leave until I know a little something about what they want.”
“You know you can trust me,” Isabella assured him, clasping one of his hands. “I’ve been doing a lot of work around the base lately. Maybe I can slip into some of the right places and get some answers.”
“You’ve got Nathan to worry about. Don’t risk your status here over me.”
“I’ve met Bryce’s commander a few times,” she said thoughtfully. “He always seemed like an up-front kind of person.”
“I feel like he knows something,” Metzger admitted. “It was almost like he wanted to tell me out of obligation to Bryce, but his sense of duty took over.”
The Undead Chronicles (Vol. 2): Darker Days Page 31