“Was there anyone living in this place when you found it?” Metzger asked of Sutton.
“I wouldn’t exactly call them living,” Sutton answered. “We found an older farm couple inside stumbling around. They took their lives at some point, but didn’t do it quite right. Shot themselves through the chests instead of the skulls. It looked like they each aimed a shotgun at the other and pulled the trigger.”
“So you know how the reanimation thing works.”
“Unless they’ve been living inside an underground bunker, I think everyone with a heartbeat knows how it works.”
“Have you had to kill anyone yet? I mean a living someone.”
“No,” Sutton answered. “I’ve been combing rural areas, so I’ve barely encountered anyone the past few weeks.”
Metzger felt certain the man was about to inquire whether or not he’d killed anyone, but they arrived at a large two-story farmhouse, complete with clothesline, a red barn on the property, and an older silo. Squirming somewhat nervously until the truck rolled to a stop, Metzger didn’t want to answer the unasked question because his one slaying that wasn’t self-defense wasn’t exactly murder, but wasn’t incredibly far from it.
Everyone exited the truck, making a group effort to carry Albert carefully from the truck bed to the house’s back porch upon Sutton’s recommendation. Several pieces of furniture, including a very comfortable loveseat sat within the enclosed porch. Large windows surrounded the enclosure, currently allowing warm sunlight to stream inside. Albert immediately seemed comforted by his surroundings, but Metzger questioned how many hours the man had left to breathe the country air.
Once the group had Albert settled on the loveseat, they went inside the house to explore their surroundings and mingle with their new hosts. Luke and Samantha stayed behind with Albert, and everyone respected their opportunity to say goodbye to a man they both cared deeply about. Aside from a brief respite from zombies, and allowing them to give Albert a halfway decent sendoff, staying at the farmhouse provided little else for the group.
Considering the events of the past several days, taking a little time to recuperate didn’t sound entirely bad. At this point, Metzger didn’t know where to find his brother, even if he reached the Norfolk city limits that very day. The last he knew, the Ross hadn’t yet reached the docks of the base, which left several plausible scenarios floating through his mind.
His brother could be inside the base, he could have left to locate his wife and son, or the base could be overrun by the undead. Other terrible possibilities occurred to him, like the ship sinking at sea, or being stranded because it ran out of fuel. Navy ships relied on supply ships to bring them food, supplies, and fuel. If the government fell apart, or lost communication, as Bryce indicated, the men and women aboard any ship would be left to fend for themselves.
Much like it came and went during the search for his parents, Metzger began to question whether he wanted to know his brother’s fate, particularly after discovering how the demise of his parents unfolded.
Much of the farmhouse appeared untouched, possibly because the two undead homeowners guarded it for so long after their incomplete suicide. A large table stained in a dark cherry color took up much of the dining room with matching chairs surrounding it. Virtually every piece of furniture in the kitchen and study was made from sturdy wood, containing either custom glass or mirrors. The living room contained a loveseat, a couch, and a few reclining chairs. What once served as a spacious area for entertaining guests now offered several places to sleep for journeyman travelers spending the night.
Now close to the middle of the afternoon, none of the people inside the house considered not staying the night there.
By comparison, the farmhouse felt like a safe haven to the open road or making camp with a larger group of strangers. Metzger touched a few of the antique trinkets sitting atop a desk when he passed by, realizing he seldom took time to figuratively smell the flowers and enjoy the few gifts life presented. Feeling more like a hunted wild animal these days, he often dodged the living while perpetually battling the undead. He wanted, more like needed, to get to a place where he could settle, both mentally and physically.
Knowing this, he couldn’t afford to put off finding his brother, even if he might not like the end results.
Beyond the living room, Metzger found the master bedroom, which looked extremely appealing with a king-size bed until he noticed the two large pools of blood on the floor near the foot of the bed. A quick search of some dresser drawers provided him with a fresh, solid green T-shirt to replace his current sleeveless attire. He switched shirts, tossing the old one to the floor, regarding it as a reminder of the horrible flight and the dire events at the airport.
Hearing the floor creak behind him, Metzger whirled to find Sutton standing there.
“We buried them out near the barn, if that’s what you’re wondering. After we stabbed them in the skulls, of course.”
“Thanks for the details,” Metzger replied with sarcasm that rolled down Sutton’s back like water on a duck.
“You’re welcome. And I’ve got dibs on the bed.”
Metzger nodded.
“Wasn’t going to ask for it.”
“There are more beds upstairs, too. And the dude on the porch was asking for you.”
Metzger wondered if it was near the end for Albert. He really didn’t want to be the one to plunge a blade into the man’s skull, but certainly didn’t want Luke to endure such an act himself.
“Thanks,” he said before crossing the living room, finding the remainder of his group cautiously cheerful to be safe for the moment, enjoying their temporary surroundings without wearing their emotions on their sleeves.
He walked into the back porch, thankful to find Albert still clinging to life, looking about the same as he did during much of the plane trip. Someone had found him a shirt inside one of the farmhouse’s closets, and an afghan they placed over him to keep him warm. Albert nodded at Metzger, but looked to Luke momentarily.
“Take Samantha inside, would you? I need a minute with Daniel.”
Very much shaken by the events of the morning, Luke put forth a strong front and ushered their adopted daughter into the house to explore the new surroundings.
“Should I put you in for dinner tonight?” Metzger asked with a subtle grin, trying to draw a smile from the former emergency room nurse.
It worked.
“I don’t have much of an appetite, I’m afraid. Look, I want to spend what time I have left with the both of them, but there was something I wanted you to know first.”
“What’s that?”
Albert coughed heavily a few times before speaking again, and Metzger knew whatever took hold of his body wasn’t letting go. It looked like an amplified flu, quickly destroying him from the inside.
“I have no regrets about us coming with you, so don’t pin any of this on yourself,” Albert finally said. “Luke may think a little differently, but please take them both with you. You’re going to be the only thing keeping them safe from those monsters out there. We should’ve left long ago, when this thing first started, but I was stubborn and thought we could make a stand at the house. I just never planned on the real monsters being other survivors.”
“None of us did.”
“What I’m saying is that I trust you, Daniel. Whether you know it or not, you’re a natural leader. And I want you to take care of those two in there, even if Luke is an obstinate ass sometimes.”
Metzger couldn’t help but return a grin at the statement.
“I wouldn’t be here if not for you, Albert. I’ll do everything I can to protect them.”
“You don’t owe me. As I recall, you more than repaid the favor. The minute I saw you outnumbered by those thugs on the road I knew you were one of the good guys. A loner, maybe, but not someone out to murder and rape like some of those assholes.”
Albert clasped his hand, and Metzger immediately felt his sweaty palms. His han
d trembled slightly from the infection conquering his immune system.
“You’ll do fine, Dan. I trust you with my family.”
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Metzger said, his emotions getting the better of him as a tear reached one eye.
“Don’t be. We’re all on borrowed time at this point. I’m just glad I got to spend my last few hours with the people I love. A lot of people don’t get that opportunity these days.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Albert swallowed hard before answering.
“When it’s time, I don’t want Luke to have to finish the job.”
Metzger understood. No one wanted the unenviable task of keeping a loved one from turning after death. He certainly didn’t want Luke or Samantha present for that, or them seeing Albert until whatever grave site ceremony took place.
“I’m so sorry about your parents,” Albert said before another coughing fit. When it finally ended, he wiped his mouth, which was covered with mucus and a little bit of blood. “I hope you find your brother and make it work.”
“Me too,” Metzger said quietly. “I don’t know where we’ll go, but I’ll do my best to keep everyone safe.”
Albert clasped his hand between both of his own, squeezing with what little strength he still possessed.
“Thank you.”
Metzger nodded reassuringly before standing to go find Luke and Samantha. He noticed Gracine speaking with Jillian as he walked through the house, glad people weren’t being complete strangers to one another. He located Luke and Samantha on the second story, telling Luke that his partner was ready to see them again with just a subtle nod.
Once they departed, he took some time to explore the upstairs, finding two sizeable bedrooms and a bathroom. He peered out a few different windows, checking the land around the farm, seeing a few undead sauntering around one of the fields. Squinting to make certain his eyes didn’t deceive him, he found Sutton walking toward the barn, carrying a shovel over one shoulder.
Already armed with the .357 and a large knife, Metzger felt comfortable stepping outside without larger firearms and the swords. Not wanting to alarm anyone else, he went out the door closest to the barn, walking across the yard to find Sutton. None of the undead had reached the yard, but they weren’t far away. Metzger waited until he neared the barn before he peered inside, seeing nothing except some tools and a tractor. The sound of a shovel piercing the ground nearby reached his ears before he turned the nearest corner to find Sutton throwing dirt behind him as he dug beside two crudely marked gravesites.
“Thought I’d get a start on the grave before dark, but I didn’t want to seem like a dick, so I didn’t tell anyone,” Sutton said without looking up from his digging.
“There was a time when that might have been considered disrespectful.”
“I think some rules can be forgiven when we have pale freaks eating us.”
“I wasn’t going to argue,” Metzger said assuredly. “There are some of those freaks in the field behind you, so I thought I’d keep watch.”
Sutton nodded.
“Thanks.”
Metzger watched his new potential ally dig one area almost three feet down before he shifted his focus on leveling out the rest of the grave. He couldn’t fathom putting Albert in the ground, considering he’d just met the man a few days back. His luck had turned sour, completely so, when he stepped foot in Buffalo, so he hoped the change of scenery might bring some good fortune.
“You still intent on going to Norfolk?” Sutton asked a few minutes later, breaking his train of thought.
“My brother is supposed to be there with his ship soon, if he’s not already. I haven’t heard from him in about a week.”
“So he’s going to forsake his orders and take all of you in while making a stand there?”
“I’m not sure he has orders to forsake at this point. Realistically, it would be dangerous to stay there at the base. The food and weapon supply is sure to run out at some point.”
“No shit,” Sutton said as the growl of a zombie behind him startled both men.
Metzger drew his knife, easily stabbing the stumbling zombie in the skull as it reached forward for Sutton, focused completely on the grave digger. Two others lingered in the field, sure to walk their way once they heard the noise of the shovel unearthing soil.
“I’m going to deal with these two,” Metzger said with a nod. “We don’t want uninvited guests once we start the mourning process.”
Metzger had to walk nearly fifty yards to reach the first straggler, which walked with its hands by its side and its head slightly tilted as though permanently stuck looking at the ground. The other wasn’t very far behind, but enough so that he could deal with them individually.
Able to duck and weave with each of them, he waited until he safely got behind them or to their sides before unleashing the knife. Although they weren’t incredibly hard to dispatch, he knew better than to ever grow complacent. Thanks to the distraction at the airport, Albert suffered the fatal bite that reduced his life to mere hours. Metzger hoped Xavier and his minions were rotting in hell for all of the misdeeds they carried out in life. He expected times to eventually get tough, but abduction and slave labor seemed like grossly inappropriate steps for a group to take immediately after civilization fell apart.
“Everything good?” Sutton asked when Metzger returned, still digging at the ground.
“So far. Hopefully they don’t have friends nearby.”
Metzger took a seat on the ground, crunching a few of the leaves that couldn’t wait for the cooler fall weather to fall from their branches. He felt somewhat obligated to return to the house, but didn’t particularly want to be around a group of people at the moment. Keeping the plane in the air drained him both physically and emotionally. His face felt flush, as though he was coming down with an illness due to the stress of the day, and being outside so much.
“So what’s your story?” he decided to ask Sutton.
Sutton continued to dig momentarily, now nearly four feet deep throughout the grave. Metzger began to wonder if the man simply didn’t want to answer, or had a darker reason for keeping silent.
“Why does everyone ask that nowadays, like our backstory replaces talking about the weather?” Sutton answered the question with a question.
“Maybe because trust doesn’t come as easy any longer.”
“It never came that easy for some of us in the first place. The world was becoming a shit pot for terrorists and people who got their feelings hurt on online forums. I spent my past few years preparing for the end, knowing it was going to come in one form or another.”
“I’m sure it gets old being asked every time you meet someone,” Metzger said. “Sorry I brought it up.”
Both of them remained silent a moment, almost to the point that it neared awkwardness.
“Not much to tell,” Sutton began without apologizing, but acting as though he felt somewhat like a jerk for his earlier statement. “I was married for the second time, but my wife didn’t make it. She came home from work, already bitten, and I watched her die over the course of two days.”
From what different people had said, Metzger viewed the timeline from bite to death was anywhere between a few hours and a day or two. He assumed the infection took people at different rates based on their age, overall health, and the degree of any additional injuries.
“Was Buster yours all along, or did you find him on the road?”
“He was mine. Saved me from my wife when she turned. He has a sense that tells the brain munchers apart from us.”
“He doesn’t attack them, does he?”
“No. He got bitten once, but survived without any issues. I think he learned a hard lesson from that little encounter.”
Metzger found it interesting that animals didn’t catch the disease, or suffer any ill effects from it. Of course they were far more susceptible to being ripped apart and devoured if cornered by the undead.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” Metzger said later than he wished he had in the course of their conversation.
“Everyone’s lost a wife, parents, kids. No need to be sorry.”
Sutton stopped digging momentarily, planting the tip of the shovel into the ground so he could lean his elbow atop the handle. Sweat poured down his face, which displayed a reddish color from so much recent sun and the strenuous work of digging.
“I’ve been on the road almost since the beginning,” Sutton confessed. “In between everything happening with my wife I spoke to my two sons, and they were going to try and make it to our old camp a few counties south of here. There’s a small lake there with fresh water. Enough wild game and fish to make a go of it for a while. And the best part, no other people around.”
Metzger provided a curious look, and Sutton immediately knew why.
“I know,” Sutton said. “I lied about family earlier. That lack of trust thing goes both ways, you know.”
“I take it they’re both adults?” Metzger inquired, seeing no need to dwell on white lies.
“Yeah. One was living in Illinois with his girlfriend, and the other near Cleveland, working for a shipping company on the Great Lakes. I taught them how to take care of themselves when I had them, so they have a good chance.”
“Not knowing sucks.”
“Yeah,” Sutton said as he jabbed the shovel into the ground. “It does.”
Metzger stood, brushing dirt and leaf dust off his blue jeans.
“I know you’re going there to meet your brother,” Sutton said slowly, “but I’m not sure you should trust the military or any police force you come across.”
“Why’s that?”
“I had a few encounters with those types along the way, and they weren’t interested in anything except protecting our infrastructure,” Sutton answered, using air quotes when he spoke the last word. “While the rest of us were left to fend for ourselves, they were scrambling to save our politicians and military brass. Figures, the one chance we have to truly start over and they want to keep the same old tired machine running.”
The Undead Chronicles_Book 1_Home and Back Again Page 23