Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 5): Wrath

by Chris Philbrook

  “Well, depends on what you’ve got spare. Let’s hear it,” the Pastor said. The two men exchanged lists of items they had for trade, and after just a few short minutes of talking, it was apparent a great trade agreement could be worked out. Had Gilbert no idea this man was the pawn of evil, this meeting would have been a momentous occasion for both groups.

  Gilbert had another question he needed the answer to. “Pastor, there’s just one more thing I need to know.”

  “Speak your mind sir.” The Pastor replied.

  “We’ve got a kid in our group named Blake, and he says you’ve got his girlfriend here, and he thinks she’s pregnant, and he thinks she is here against her will. I promised him I’d ask about her.”

  The Pastor nodded just as Gilbert had seen a thousand holy men do before him. The knowing, confident nod. “Blake’s lady Kimberly came to us when she felt Blake was too dangerous to be around. She knew she was having a baby, and I had a dream sent to me by God to invite her in. I extended the offer, she accepted, and now she resides here, she is well, and she is waiting to have her baby protected by God’s chosen.”

  Gilbert knew exactly what kind of dreams the Pastor was having. He had to know anyway. “Dreams? What do you mean dreams?”

  “When I rest, occasionally the Lord comes to me. He speaks to me from the darkness through the dead. The spirits of the faithful come to me in the cold void where God meets us halfway from Heaven, and they pass along his wishes. When I follow these visions, every time we reap a bounty that could only come from God’s will.”

  Gilbert died on the inside. The poor bastard really was being tricked by the Devil. Gilbert nodded and listened as the Pastor continued with his story, telling about all the dreams that led them to other women around town that they rescued. He even went so far as to claim that some of them had immaculately conceived once they were brought inside the steel fence. Patty unconsciously took a step back from the barricade when he said that.

  The two old men continued with their conversation for a bit more, and when Gilbert was satisfied the man was completely under the sway of The Voice, and he knew this could only end badly for everyone, he and Patty left. When they returned to the bright eyed and hopeful Adrian, Gilbert vomited up a lie about how solid the Pastor was, and how everything was normal, and fine. He twisted the story of the dreams into a tale that Adrian would believe and digest. Adrian felt relief that the Pastor was having dreams just like his. Gilbert was revolted by his deceit.

  Days later the Pastor had another dream in the dark place, and he sent his people to murder Adrian.

  They failed, but killed Abigail’s first love, one of the small children that had moved into the school, the mother and father from the Edwards family that had help them make the meeting happen, as well as wounding many of the people who had moved to the school for safety. Gilbert himself had taken a slashing across an eyelid during the firefight that nearly blinded the eye. He would need weeks to heal and fully regain the use of the orb.

  Adrian’s wrath was complete. Together with Gilbert and Blake that very night they returned to the farm, and murdered almost every soul there seeking justice.

  Gilbert feared the act of Adrian wreaking vengeance on the farm would tip the scales in favor of evil, but the world didn’t suddenly come to an end that night, and he retained some hope for the future of mankind on Earth.

  It wasn’t a lot of hope though.

  *****

  “You will perform one last task for me before your death Gilbert Donohue. I will hold your debt to me paid. Your wife shall rejoice for all eternity, and so shall you by her side if you see this deed done for me.”

  Gilbert was so fed up with the bullshit. He had no more energy left. No will to continue with this emotional torture, night after night, nightmare after nightmare. His wife’s soul was the only thing left for him to cling on to inside. He had already abandoned his own soul as long since lost.

  “Fine. One last task and we’re even? You leave me alone forever? My wife goes to Heaven?”

  “You will never hear from me again if you see this done.”

  Gilbert closed his eyes, and opened himself up to the last instructions he would receive from the Devil.

  “Not long from now the Soul will assault a structure in your town. It will be thick with my minions, and it will be the Soul’s final resting place. Soon you will be asked to perform a task which only you can do, and you will do it poorly, and damn him to his fate.”

  “What is this task?”

  “There are a few streams the river of choice can take still. We cannot see the outcomes completely. However, with your damaged eye, the task shall be one of tedium, and easily done. Whatever it is you are asked to do, you shall sabotage it, and see him to his fate.”

  Gilbert nodded, and when he opened his one good eye, he felt like his life was finally over. He felt his traitor’s death was not long away, and his relief was like a warm hug from his wife.

  *****

  “Hey Gilbert, I got an idea for you. Can I run something by you?” Adrian asked the old man one day shortly after as they gathered around the table to eat.

  “Shoot.” Gilbert scooped a small amount of boxed mashed potatoes out on his plate as Adrian served himself some canned asparagus.

  “With us focusing so heavily on getting the campus walls built, and the gate made, I’m thinking we get you doing something we’ve been putting off for awhile. With you blind as a bat in one eye, and old as hell too, I’m thinking now would be a great time to get some bullets made with the reloader we found.”

  Gilbert hid his revulsion, “that sounds great. Nice to be even a little useful I suppose. I’ll get started on the 5.56 for the rifles tomorrow.”

  “Phenominal.” Adrian looked happy.

  Gilbert knew then he had a final choice to make as Adrian sat down next to his friends to eat. Next to the handful of men, women and children Adrian had risked his life to save. The Soul had nothing to gain personally. He was doing this only to be a better person, and to give others hope.

  Gilbert had to tamper with the ammunition, and get everyone going into the Devil’s lair killed, or damn his and his wife’s soul to eternity in Hell, and earn that traitor’s death the Devil had promised him.

  Gilbert didn’t make the decision about his beloved wife until he sat down all alone at the reloading station he’d built himself, tears streaming down his face in rivers of sorrow and guilt.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “So, so sorry.”

  A traitor’s death would be such a welcome rest for Gilbert Donohue.

  June 18th

  Well.

  This is going to suck. I’m not looking forward to this one bit. That apartment building has seen some shit, and now it has fallen to us to deal with it. But, I think it will be worth it, if we can pull it off without killing ourselves.

  There are people inside. Specifically, we made friendly contact with the remaining inhabitants, and there are seven of them. Four of which are on the fourth floor, three on the third floor. They’re spread out in three different apartments, and they’re trapped on the third and fourth floors. Can’t go up, can’t go down.

  How did we glean that nugget of information? A megaphone. I stole one of the megaphones from the gym the other day and when we returned to the apartment building this morning, we parked on the street at the base, set up some firing positions in case we were shot at, and I started hollering up with the damn thing. Smartest idea ever, or smartest idea EVER?

  I’m damn lucky I didn’t get killed I suppose.

  We had to yell up for perhaps fifteen minutes before someone leaned over the railing of a balcony. It was a young kid, little dirty looking, needed a haircut, and was maybe 22, or 25 or so. Younger looking than Blake, but probably about the same age. He started yelling down to me.

  “Hey, yo, quit yelling, you’re gonna drag a shitload of them here!” The kid yelled.

  “Don’t worry, we can handle it. I’m
Adrian, who are you?” I said back.

  “I’m Zach! My boy Ryan is here too. We got a bunch of people up here and we can’t leave and shit!” He yelled back down. No sooner had he said that another young guy with a shaggy beard leaned over the railing next to him. They looked like big time hippies. They waved down at me.

  Within a few seconds the other people started leaning out the windows, and looking down at us. On the fourth floor with Zach and Ryan two men leaned over a balcony and identified themselves as Alex, and George. They were maybe mid thirties, dressed remarkably well considering they were surviving the end of the world trapped in a burnt out apartment building, and stood with their arm around each other. George looked Asian to me, and they both looked gay from the ground level. I’m not judging.

  On the third floor a married couple came out on the balcony and announced themselves as Martin and Julie, and after a bit of talk, they revealed that they had a nine year old boy inside named Chester. I like that name. Anyone who names their kid Chester gets style points in my book. I bet that kid is cool shit. Although I hope his middle name isn’t molester.

  I won’t go into every little ugly fucking detail. We sat there talking for nearly three hours, going back and forth with the different groups in the building about what had happened to them, and how they were surviving, apparently trapped on just two floors of the building.

  Zach and Ryan made it through “that day” at The Golden Palace, the best Chinese restaurant downtown. (Awesome dumplings) Once they thought it was safe enough, they high tailed it to Zach’s apartment, and locked it down. Alex and George were there all along, as were Martin and Julie. Other people in other apartments came and went over the first few days, but for the most part, the building was unoccupied. During winter, some of the people started to freeze, and they started small fires to stay warm.

  Remember back when we were on the roof of the grocery store and I saw scorch marks on the side of this building? It was as I suspected. People trying to stay warm, and dying as a result. As you can imagine, fires make smoke, and before you know it, several floors of the building were engulfed with the acrid, lethal stuff.

  Lots of folks died. Martin and Julie slammed the fire doors shut on the third floor and barricaded them, locking the people below them out from the upper floors. In fact, Martin was an industrial welder in his professional life, and he was the same guy who welded the bottom doors with plate steel to reinforce them. He did the same for the fire doors to keep the dead out.

  The fifth floor was more of the same. Well that’s not entirely true. I guess a bunch of the folks on the fifth floor got really sick sometime in the fall, and they wound up dying from whatever they had. Crazy to think about how many people have gone belly up to sickness and disease. Typhoid, cholera, so much sickness and no infrastructure to either prevent it or cure it. So much for modern medicine. The seven still alive managed to lock and bar those doors too, and now they’re sandwiched in, and can’t leave. Luckily, the single elevator in the building is dead, and as luck would have it, it apparently is stuck on the top floor for whatever reason. I was really hoping to use the elevator shaft for our plan, but that seems to be a no-go. More on the plan later.

  They have been surviving due to two things. First, Martin and Julie had a rope ladder that they had been using to get down to the ground from the third floor every once in awhile to search for food and supplies. Of course everything in this area has been cleaned out as a result, and they’ve been pretty much out of gas for months. I guess around a month and a half ago, the rope ladder broke on them, nearly killing Martin, and since then, they’ve been staying inside. With nowhere left to look, and no real way to get down safely, and with no bullets left for the few guns they have, they’ve been focusing inward. Can’t say that I blame them.

  Zach and Ryan are stoners. Industrial stoners though. God bless them. They have their own hydroponics grow operation in the apartments on their floor, and when they realized that growing food was more important than growing weed, they re-tasked their gear, and they’ve been growing stuff to feed everyone. Marijuana is a gateway drug. It leads to indoor gardening, and apparently allows you to survive the apocalypse. Cheech and Chong to the fucking rescue I suppose.

  Zach said that they have enough supplies to last another month, and if they can hit a supply store, the two of them could theoretically start a large enough hydroponics grow operation that could feed… dozens and dozens of people. Gilbert and I just looked at each and salivated when he said that down to us. We need to get these people out of there, if only to get that hydroponics plan moving. We’ve got some serious indoor real estate here on campus these two kids could put to good work for us. Our gymnasium, or the arts building are entirely up for grabs for something like that.

  To run their hydro operation, they’ve been collecting rainwater and snow. Also they said on the roof there are some solar panels, and if I were a betting man, I’d say they’re STIG brand. They’ve also got a small gas generator they run every once in awhile with the small amount of gasoline they have left. I guess they’re down to fumes now though.

  So. What the fuck right? What do we do? Martin said the welds on the lower doors are going to require a battering ram to break through. Martin also said the lighter welds on the upper floor will require a battering ram to break through. Fortunately, I have passed for a battering ram before.

  Here’s the plan we fleshed out a little bit ago.

  Smashing down the main door on the first floor is a waste of a perfectly good secured door. Not to mention, fighting uphill is far more difficult than fighting downhill. It’s always easier to go down, than up. (That’s what she said, incidentally) Plus it’ll be a shitload more work, and more dangerous to clear two whole floors of undead before we can get to the living folks we’re trying to rescue.

  We are going to insert on the roof, and fight our way down through the fifth floor. The residents of the building (Surviving residents, that is) think there are as many as eight to ten undead on the top floor. That’s not an overwhelming amount, and if we breach strong, and move smart and slow, we can take them. What scares me is the confined space, and the dark.

  I suddenly miss my boy Gavin…

  Goddamn it.

  Abby and I will breach with Hector. Blake is still gone in Westfield with Kim. While we’re up on the fifth floor clearing it, Mallory, Gilbert, Patty, and Angela will pull ground floor security for us. Hopefully a three deep stack is enough firepower to do the fifth floor safely. Once we clear the fifth floor, we smash down the welded fire door, and free the seven people inside so they can either come and go as they please, or they can relocate to campus with us. We haven’t officially offered them sanctuary, but based on the looks of desperation on their faces, they’re looking for an escape right now. With the hydroponics set up we can easily feed them, and they won’t be a burden on us. We have the space.

  How are we going to reach the fifth floor you ask? Ladder truck. Boo yah. We just got back inside from testing it in the parking lot to make sure everything works fine on it still, and wouldn’t ya know, it does.

  Suck it Jinx Fairy.

  So yeah. Breach the rooftop door. Clear the fifth floor. Save the princess. Once that is achieved, we will open the third floor barriers in the stairwell, and clear down through the second and first floors to make sure the entire building is safe again to occupy. Once that’s done, if possible, I’d like to use it as an outpost in downtown. As I surmised in an earlier entry, if we can get some spotters on the roof of that building, we can see almost the entire town, and as we all know, controlling the high ground is a pretty big damn deal.

  Ammunition is a bit of a concern, but luckily Gilbert has been restocking the 5.56 for us using the reloader. He’s managed to load a lot of rounds for us, and if he did it as well as he’s done everything else, they’ll fly straight and true, and pop holes in the heads of everything they hit. I’m excited.

  A little scared though. Not gonna lie.
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br />   Tomorrow all day we’re gearing up. We’re trying to assemble some body armor to wear inside the apartments as we’re clearing. Abby and Patty’s shin guards are part of it, and I’d like for the rest of us going in to wear something a little more robust on the arms at the very least. The IOTV armor will protect our torsos, and I suppose we can wear helmets as well, but our forearms will be exposed, as will our thighs. In a dark, enclosed space filled with who knows how many undead, we really need to be mindful of unprotected skin.

  Last thing we need is to have someone get bitten, and die. I am not sure how I’d handle one more person dying right now. I’ve picked enough shit out of my cornflakes to last a lifetime.

  Oh, interestingly enough, we saw a bunch of cats and dogs around town today. Most of them ran when they saw us, but the fact that they are even alive is a great sign. I don’t know what they’ve been eating to stay alive this long, but I’ll take it as a good sign that they’ve made it.

  Day after tomorrow, we hit the fifth floor of the building. If that goes well, we’ll extricate the locals, get them wherever they need to be, and then make a plan to clear the first and second floors.

  Wish us luck Mr. Journal. I suspect we’re gonna need some.

  -Adrian

  June 20th

  From the roof of the apartment building you can see for miles in every direction. The entirety of downtown and most of the fringe neighborhoods are all visible, and if you have a scope, or a pair of binoculars, you can even see a corner of Lake Auburn. None of the school buildings are visible due to the hills and tree line, but you can certainly see all that way.