An Ill Wind: Tales from the world of Adrian's Undead Diary Volume Five

by Chris Philbrook

  An Ill Wind: Tales from the World of Adrian’s Undead Diary, Volume Five

  Copyright © 2017 Chris Philbrook

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America

  First Publishing Date 2017

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design and interior layout by Alan MacRaffen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Foreword

  — AN ILL WIND —

  Part One: Amazing Feats of Stupidity

  Part Two: Signs of the Potential Apocalypse

  Part Three: Actual Signs of the Impending Apocalypse

  Part Four: Any Landing You Can Walk Away From

  Part Five: The Blood Basket

  Part Six: Sometimes You Become the News You Hear About

  Part Seven: That Man is Not Sleeping

  Part Eight: Shut Up With That

  Part Nine: It’s Not the Fall that Gets You. It’s the Sudden Stop at the End. Usually.

  Part Ten: Worst Case Scenario

  Part Eleven: Why You Have a Ground Crew

  — ONE HELL OF A FIELD TRIP —

  Part One: A History Lesson

  Part Two: Phys. Ed.

  About the Author

  Also by Chris Philbrook

  This one goes out to a one Tim Feely. If you don’t know Tim, you should. He and his better half Kristyn are both amazing people (despite being from New Jersey), and a lot of fun to spend time with. Tim is one of those readers that all authors pray for. He’s voracious, reading book after book like it’s his job. (It might be. It just might be.)

  Anyway, every so often a good cause will pop up and I’ll offer up signed books, or ebooks, or audio books, or something really special like being able to name a character in an upcoming novel. Tim donated what I thought was a pretty crazy amount of money for the honor of having a character in one of my books named after him, and for his donation, and for his unending support of every indie author I know, this book goes out to him.

  It’s also why the main character is named Tim.

  You go, Tim. Rock on with your bad self.

  Patreon Patrons, who rock the Casbah, and help make it all happen

  Trinity Members

  Tracy Guinther

  Trish Volpe

  Joni Marcks

  Seth Hillman

  Fire Team Members

  Jamie DeAnn

  Jesse Eldridge

  Malinda Gibson

  Susie Taylor

  Lisa Long

  James Trudel

  AV Club Members

  Chris Fagan

  Sean Hammond

  Connie Nealy

  Lyndal Sonneborn

  Sunnita Tardy

  Michelle Cooper

  I’ll be your Huckleberry Members

  Tim Feely

  Foreword:

  So before we truly dig into the meat of An Ill Wind, I’d like to chit chat about where it came from, and the future of the Tales series to which it belongs.

  Latter first.

  An Ill Wind is the 5th installment in the Tales from the World of Adrian’s Undead Diary series. Books 1 and 3 are anthology collections, and books 2 and 4 (and the 5th you’re reading) are novellas written by myself.

  I went all-out on the 1st anthology. I paid professional rates, gave 6 copies to each other, paid for an expensive cover by a new artist, and paid the price for that. Despite pretty strong sales it’s only barely made money. For the 2nd anthology (3rd in the series) I dropped the rates to a more reasonable amount, and had a cover done by my normal go-to guy, Alan MacRaffen, who I should’ve had do the first cover. Sorry Alan. I love you.

  I think the anthology has only barely broke even.

  Which means…

  I might not do anymore anthologies for the Tales series. Reviews are very good for them, and the authors had a blast writing for them, and I’ve had a blast reading submissions and seeing what others do with Adrian’s world and the characters and ideas contained within, but the reality is… if I want writing to be my day gig, I need to make a little money.

  Willow and Leah have to eat, and starting next March, the new kid will too. I can skip a few meals for the sake of my writing, or eat Ramen until I get scurvy, but I won’t make them.

  So moving forward, unless I can stomach dropping rates enormously for the stories I buy, or doing a better job of advertising them, or exploring a Patreon/Kickstarter funding model, I won’t be doing more anthologies.

  But I will be writing more novellas.

  London Burns was gobbled up, and The Shed was too, though to a slightly lesser degree. I also had a ton of fun writing them, and I’m stoked to write this one. They’re a reasonable length in terms of investment and I can write them pretty fast. I’d expect more of these, so long as you keep picking them up, and leaving reviews with your thoughts on Amazon, Audible and Goodreads.

  An Ill Wind came from my deep thoughts about ‘that day.’ I’ve never been satisfied with how I’ve described the unfolding of the apocalypse in the core AUD series. I’ve written a bunch of stories that took place on ‘that day’ but they never illustrated how the plague of the undead spread fast enough to overcome the authorities, and armed civilians. At least, I never wrote it well enough for my satisfaction.

  I sat down and thought about a hundred different scenarios that could’ve happened. I’ve already written about car accidents, and hospitals, and nursing homes, and first responders. Some of the anthology authors talked about bank robberies, accidental shootings (intentional shootings) looting, etc. I wanted something a little off the beaten path. Something perfect for the date of June 23rd.

  So I started thinking about what kind of events happened in the summer? What kind of large gatherings happened? What kind of opportunities would pure evil pounce on to carry out its task?

  We have a local balloon festival in the town I grew up in, and I thought, “Wow… how fucked up would it be if an outbreak occurred at one of those?”

  And now you’re reading An Ill Wind.

  I’ve blathered on enough. Thank you all for you continued support with everything I’ve written, thank you for your support with all the things I want to write, and as always…

  The Devil’s in the Details.

  Chris Philbrook

  Marlow NH August 2017

  An Ill Wind

  - Part One -

  Amazing Feats of Stupidity

  June 23rd, 2010

  The warmth of the summer sun grew as the festival came to life. The mornings of fairs and festivals were Tim’s favorite times. This was his 30th, and it felt like the 1st.

  They were always summer, or fall mornings and that meant he got to feel the cool night air give way to the warm day. He was able to experience the morning dew, and how it made his toes chilly in his sandals. And on his silent ride in, he got to see the final animals of the night flee for the woods as the human world woke up. Just this morning on the drive into the balloon festival he saw a fox cross the road and scamper up a hill into the forest.

  It meant he got to see all the exhausted food vendors show up and spin up the good work they would do all day and he got to see them plow through their Dunkin Donuts coffees, and
then start acting like the idea of a whole day inside a food truck or trailer would be fun and maybe profitable.

  He knew how hot those kitchens on wheels got. Hell, he’d eaten at them more than once, and felt the humid touch of the fryers as they churned out paper dog bowl after dog bowl of fresh cut fries, or funnel cakes, or fried dough. Kitchen work in the summer was something Tim had abandoned with his teen years and while he’d love to be a teenager again (certain points, at least), he had no intention of returning to the work he did at that age.

  Not since he’d retired and started up his part-time business in the sky.

  Feel the Skies, with Tim Feely.

  His daughter told him the hot air balloon company name felt far too much like an 80’s porn movie title, but Tim disagreed. Feel the Skies was hopeful, youthful, and sounded magical in a way that he was certain wasn’t in the least pornographic. To date, he’d never had a single person make mention of the name, or any connotation other than its intended one.

  Tim tried not to think about why his daughter immediately went to the pornography association.

  He chuckled, and looked up from the outfield grass of the park’s baseball field to the golden side of his hot air balloon as it extended forever upward to the clouds. He’d just finished his pre-flight inspection and everything was ready; the basket was safe, the fuel topped off, the emergency equipment ready to go, and the chase team on duty.

  The chase team consisted of his daughter Malinda in their beaten but reliable Silverado pickup with the trailer for the balloon attached.

  “Malinda, can you hear me?” Tim said into the walkie he’d taken off his hip.

  “Yeah, Dad. Loud and clear,” she replied after a few seconds.

  “Excellent, thank you.”

  “Your second booking arrive yet?”

  “Not yet,” Tim said with a huff. “Ten minutes late. This is why the afternoon fares always get off the ground late. Just like the dentist office. Early problems push everyone after around.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Try not to take it too seriously, Dad. You fly a hot air balloon around for fun, you’re ravishingly handsome, single, and you’re retired.”

  “How’d you get so wise at your age?” Tim asked his daughter.

  “I had a very wise mother.”

  “Ah, that’s good. I bet your dad was intelligent and kind as well.”

  “Ehhh….”

  “Oh, I see. That’s a tough break on the dad situation,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I’m making do.”

  “When was the last time you talked to your mom?”

  “Couple days ago. She called right before her and Tim were boarding a flight for Ireland. He had a death in the family,” she said. “She wanted to speak to me before I went back to school. Guess they’re gonna be over there for a few weeks.”

  “That sucks about the death. Tim’s a nice guy,” Tim said about the man who’d married his ex wife, and overstepped his bounds having the same first name as him. “Speaking of which, why is it again your mother married another guy named Tim?”

  “Because she’s still smitten with you, but doesn’t know how to rebuild your failed marriage due to the damage you did working too much in banking. You need anything from Dunks? I’m about to go through the drive-thru.”

  “With the trailer? You should’ve parked on the side and gone in. You’re taking up 3 spots in that lane. People are taking a picture of the logo right now and swearing they’ll never book a hot air balloon ride with us.”

  “What’s done is done. Any publicity is good publicity. Medium regular? Maybe a napkin for all that spilled milk?”

  “Medium regular, please. Thanks. And get a receipt.”

  “I’m on it.”

  #

  “One medium regular,” Malinda said as she handed her father his Styrofoam cup of coffee.

  “Thanks. You got here fast. I thought you were running back home to Westfield to get our lunches out of the fridge.”

  “No I decided not to. Traffic’s picking up. Still no fare?” she asked him.

  “Nope. I’m about to tell the people over at the microphone that I’ve got a balloon ready to go. Might be able to get someone to take a deal on a last second ride before the winds start to pick up.” Otherwise we’re dead on the ground until the late afternoon.”

  “Didn’t they prepay?” Malinda asked as she too craned her head back to take in the envelope of her father’s enormous balloon. He’d picked the color of the fabric; gold like the corn that was coming into season.

  “Yeah online,” he said.

  “That’s $250 down the drain. I can’t believe someone would no-show for something that expensive,” she said.

  “People are capable of pretty amazing feats of stupidity, in my experience,” Tim said to his daughter. “Many major in the liberal arts, for example.”

  “Dad I’m a liberal arts major.”

  “It’s not too late for you, Malinda. I have faith,” Tim teased.

  Malinda made a lunge for the hot cup of coffee he’d just opened but he turned his shoulders in time to avoid her knocking it out of his hand. The two shared a laugh as a young couple appeared around the corner of the closest food trailer.

  Hot pretzels. The bread smelled delicious.

  The tanned couple couldn’t have been older than 30, and the woman probably a year or two younger than the man. Both sported dark hair with trendy, short cuts and the man had an impeccably trimmed goatee. The two wore balloon fair t-shirts they’d obviously just purchased from the fair’s merchandise tent but they wore nice slacks that didn’t match. The woman carried a plastic grocery store bag bulging with knotted, dirty clothes. Tim saw what could’ve been a bloodstain on a shirt.

  They walked with urgency towards the hot air balloon, and Tim and Malinda near its basket.

  “Hi, are you Tim?” the guy asked. His expression told a story about their lateness.

  “I’m Tim,” Tim said back.

  “Hi, I’m sorry we’re late. I’m Lucas. This is my fiancé Julie,” the man said, showing a bit of fluster.

  “Everything okay?” Tim asked the pair. He couldn’t place the man’s accent. It wasn’t from the east coast, of that he was sure.

  “We had an issue early this morning at our hotel,” Julie said, then looked at Lucas’ arm. Tim saw a bandage wrapped around the forearm midway between the wrist and the elbow. The bandage wasn’t professionally applied. The layers were inconsistent and the tape holding it in place was wrapped around the limb in a haphazard way.

  “Accident?” Malinda asked. “Are you going to be okay to fly?”

  “I think I’ll be fine. It’s sore right now, but we stopped at the pharmacy on the way here and got bandages and Tylenol. No arteries severed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Did you get cut?” Tim asked. “Road rash?”

  “No. We were getting into our car an hour ago in the parking lot of the hotel and some guy jumped us. He was so sick. Pale with messed up eyes. He had a damn needle hanging out of his arm too. Rubber band around the bicep. Must’ve been high as a kite. He tried to get in the car and when I fought him off he frigging bit me.”

  Tim noticed then that Lucas had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They had a crystalline quality to them, like they were transparent, but they weren’t. Those very eyes had helped him break the ice with Julie, Tim was sure of it.

  “Did you call the cops?” Malinda asked.

  “We did, after we left,” Lucas said. “They said they were busy, but they’d send a unit when one came free. Cop was a dick on the phone. The guy never said anything. Just came at me like a shark. Creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah. I’ll have nightmares about it,” Julie said. “But whatever. Lucas smacked him in the face with a metal travel mug and busted his nose. I hope he gets the help he needs.”

  “Yeah that’s sad. Drugs are such a menace,” Tim said, his voice somber. “I’m glad you’re okay. That m
ust be terrifying. Do you need to file a report or something? Get checked at the hospital? Did you guys still want to go up? After all that?”

  “Are you kidding?” Lucas said. “Your rides are very well spoken of, and we already paid. Not to mention, one of the most relaxing things I think Julie and I can experience right now is the serenity of a hot air balloon ride. There’ll be plenty of time to go to the station later.”

  “You know, you’re right,” Tim said. “Feel the skies with Tim Feely promises serenity. This is my daughter Malinda, she’s the ground crew that’ll be chasing us as we drift in the world above. She’s our ride back here.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” the couple said in unison.

  “Glad you could make it,” Malinda said back to them.

  “Now if you’re ready, there are quite a few things to go over in the event of an emergency in the air, and I’d love to teach you all about hot air balloons,” Tim said with a smile. “The good news, is you won’t be attacked by a junkie, or bitten by me while we’re in the air.” They laughed at him. “Shall we get started?”

  - Part Two -

  Signs of the Potential Apocalypse