The Undead Chronicles_Book 1_Home and Back Again

by Patrick J. O'Brian

  By the time the crew readied themselves for longer travel with secured goods in every vehicle, they checked on Sutton one last time, finding him much the same.

  “I don’t know where his camp is,” Gracine revealed to Metzger in front of the others. “If he doesn’t wake up soon, I say we continue on to your destination.”

  Metzger looked to Jillian, recalling that she said her family wasn’t far from the military base.

  “If we get to Norfolk, I can get to my family,” she said.

  “If you know the way, feel free to keep the lead,” Metzger said.

  Gracine nodded.

  “I’ve been up and down these roads a thousand times, honey. We won’t be stopping anytime soon unless we have to.”

  With that settled, the group continued southeast along the highway once they returned to it, making decent time for a while until they needed to stop when Metzger’s truck ran out of fuel. Deciding it was easier to switch vehicles, rather than syphon fuel, he and Jillian quickly transferred their goods and belongings to a crew cab truck, deciding they wanted the four-wheel-drive to navigate ditches and uneven roads, rather than fuel economy.

  A dark blue color, the truck sat a bit higher off the ground, and appeared newer than the last truck. Metzger wondered why someone abandoned the vehicle, which held a nearly full tank of gas and no undead waiting inside.

  He considered both finds bonuses.

  Metzger immediately plugged in the sat phone to charge with the vehicle charging cord, because he hadn’t done so since the group crashed in Virginia. A sense of nearing his destination, like a kid about to experience a museum or theme park for the first time, spread a sense of anticipation throughout his body. It replaced the feelings of sorrow and foreboding that came with realizing how the Robertson family members met their ends.

  Only a few minutes into their journey, Metzger needed to follow Gracine around a line of cars that occupied a lane by driving partly along the side of the road to avoid hitting them. He thought he might have screwed up the phone when plugging it in to charge because it made a strange noise. He gave it a glance, trying to navigate the truck without planting them in a ditch, but Jillian looked from the phone to him with wide eyes.

  “It’s ringing!” she exclaimed.

  Metzger slammed on the brakes, almost causing Luke to rear-end him with the other truck as he scooped the phone from the center console. He stared at it momentarily, thinking of all the bad news that might come over the line, particularly if his brother wasn’t the one placing the call.

  “Well answer it,” Jillian urged, not sensing his internal reluctance, because Metzger couldn’t stack any more bad news atop his already growing pile.

  “Hello?” he answered reluctantly.

  “Hey, little brother,” a familiar voice said over the phone. “I’ve only got a minute, but we need to talk.”

  Twenty-Two

  Jillian jumped out of the truck to spread the news to the others, even before Metzger spoke his first words to Bryce.

  Metzger barely saw the look of confusion on Luke’s face turn to one of hope, or Gracine jumping from the box truck after stopping to discover the reason for the holdup. He simply held the phone close to his ear and absorbed the words his brother spoke.

  “We just got to the base,” Bryce revealed. “It’s organized chaos here, and the guys are still rounding up family members from the housing areas.”

  Metzger recalled that most of the housing for enlisted men and women, and even most officers, remained in town, separate from the base.

  “Where are you?” Bryce asked.

  “In Virginia, but not real close to the base yet.”

  “You need to get your ass down here.”

  “Where do I go? How do I locate you when I get there?” Metzger questioned almost frantically, knowing his brother couldn’t talk for very long.

  “The undead are starting to swarm the fences, so you may have to get creative. I’m not sure how long we’ll be at the base.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “They’re working up some kind of plan to deploy some of us to the bigger cities.”

  Metzger felt his heart sink. If he missed his one opportunity to lay eyes on his brother, they might never find one another.

  “Look, I’ll stay here as long as I can. They’re sending the Marines and the Army guys on these missions first, but there’s only so many of them.”

  “I can’t promise when I’ll get there. It’s slow going along the roads, not to mention dangerous.”

  Bryce gave a sigh that indicated he understood the hardships, even if he hadn’t personally experienced many of them yet.

  “Hang in there, and keep your phone handy. We’ll meet up and you can tell me all about what you’ve seen when you get here.”

  “Okay,” Metzger said, thinking of the heartbreaking news he needed to tell his brother.

  “I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later, Dan.”

  “Bye.”

  Metzger hung his head as he shut down the phone, finding everyone around him waiting with baited breath for news. Even Buster was released from the box truck by Gracine, though he busied himself with sniffing the area and using the tall grass beside the road for relief of his bowels and bladder.

  “Not much news,” Metzger said to dispel their looks of anticipation. “My brother’s ship arrived in Norfolk, and the government might not be done with him.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Luke inquired.

  “I’m not sure it changes much. They’re trying to gather their families and protect them before the soldiers depart for their missions. We get to the base, we get protection, food, and supplies.”

  Metzger spoke the words, hoping he wasn’t misleading the group, because he didn’t truly have any assurances. As the brother of a Navy officer, he was certainly blanketed into safe haven, but he wasn’t sure if the people left in charge would be willing to stretch their limited provisions for complete strangers.

  “It would seem I’m more pressed for time than ever,” he revealed the obvious information to the group.

  “What about Sutton and his camp?” Jillian asked. “Do we even have time for that pit stop?”

  “No one knows where it is,” Vazquez said, nodding to Gracine. “Not even her.”

  “We have to keep going,” Luke said, providing Metzger with relief that he wasn’t the only one who wanted to avoid additional stops along the way. “We can get Colby medical attention and he can double back to his camp when he gets well.”

  “If he gets well,” Vazquez stated. “He’s been out a long time.”

  “He’s been in and out of consciousness,” Gracine revealed. “But he never stays awake for very long.”

  “We need to get moving before the undead spot us,” Metzger said, feeling even less patient than his traveling companions at the moment.

  “We aren’t going anywhere except my camp,” a voice said from the side of the box truck, causing everyone to look in that direction.

  Sutton held a shotgun at his side, his face still battered with remnants of dried blood. Forced to use the truck as a makeshift crutch to support his weight, he moved forward, continually leaning against the sturdy vehicle as he walked. His condition apparently left him too weak or too disoriented to walk upright.

  “You’re in no condition,” Gracine said sternly, taking a step toward him until he held the shotgun in a more upright position.

  “We aren’t hand-delivering a truck full of food and supplies straight to the military,” Sutton replied stubbornly.

  Everyone stood perfectly still, looking to one another for answers, knowing Sutton wasn’t in any condition to drive, much less defend himself once he reached the camp.

  Already losing precious time, Metzger decided he needed to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. Half of the people currently traveling with him wanted to find loved ones somewhere nearby, and he supposed his latest companion wasn’t so different. S
utton didn’t appear to have all of his faculties after taking so many shots to the skull, so Metzger couldn’t rule out violence against his group of normally peaceful people.

  “We go to the camp,” Metzger decided aloud, looking to Gracine, who gave him a look that indicated if he rethought his decision she was onboard with whatever he wanted to do.

  He gave her a negative shake of his head with minimal movement. For now they would appease Sutton, hoping he might slip into unconsciousness again, or that the camp wasn’t far out of their way.

  ***

  “Why are you giving in to what he wants?” Jillian asked once they’d been on the road for almost fifteen minutes, weaving around cars as usual. “He’s nothing but a bully.”

  “I don’t think he’s nearly as bad as he pretends to be,” Metzger answered. “He’s just doing the same thing we are.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Metzger turned to her before he answered.

  “Looking for his family.”

  Jillian looked down to her lap.

  “I feel like I’m wasting my time if I look for the rest of my family.”

  Metzger followed Gracine’s lead around a car parked the wrong way in the road, maneuvering slightly into the median before posing his next question.

  “You said it’s only been a week since you last talked to them,” Metzger said. “You can’t give up that easily.”

  “It’s not that I’m giving up. After seeing what some of these people do to one another, I worry about what I’m going to find.”

  From experience, Metzger could relate to the feeling.

  “You can’t go the rest of your life wondering,” he said after a brief pause. “It’ll consume you, and if they’re still out there, they need to know you’re alive.”

  “I can’t believe how many bad people survived this thing,” Jillian said almost absently, staring out the side window.

  “I’m not sure they were all bad. Maybe what happened changed some of them.”

  “So if there aren’t any rules, or anyone to enforce them, we’re all just inherently evil?”

  “No. Not all. I think we all have an idea what it’s going to take to survive, but some people want to take shortcuts.”

  Both pondered the world around them silently until Gracine turned onto a county road that Metzger assumed started the part of their journey where they visited the rural camp. He considered it a blessing that gridlocked traffic appeared minimal as stranded vehicles, buildings, and clusters of the undead disappeared, giving way to trees and open fields. Whenever he departed from urban settings, Metzger felt as though he was experiencing a vacation of sorts, leaving worries and cares behind.

  Part of him wanted to divert from the pack and head straight for the military base, but he wasn’t going to leave the group in the hands of an unpredictable Sutton. As much as he wanted to see Bryce, Metzger felt a kinship, new as it was, to these people who assisted him, and vice versa, whenever the need arose.

  He trusted that Bryce would stall as long as he could, and that answers would be available if his brother needed to leave on a mission. He couldn’t imagine the nature of the operations, or what the military hoped to find, but he didn’t suspect they’d waste resources on such endeavors when they needed to protect assets, unless they had good reason.

  Eventually the convoy took a few more turns, several miles apart, until they made their way onto a gravel road that eventually turned into a dirt road once the vehicles reached a densely wooded area. A grove of trees soon became what Metzger believed might be considered a forest because the only daylight he saw came from the occasional clearing above them, or through branches spaced just far enough apart. When the vehicles reached a small entrance gate in the form of two metal poles and a chain with a “No Trespassing” sign already lying on the ground, they passed with minimal hesitation.

  Almost immediately Metzger’s sense of impending danger blinked red with blaring alarms inside his mind. He spied undead lumbering through the trees to either side in a spot that should have been barren of living or dead. As if that weren’t enough to make him nervous, he smelled smoke, like that of a wood fire, through the top of the window where he’d cracked it for some fresh air.

  Perhaps Sutton detected the danger as well, because the box truck sped up, despite the bumpy dirt road. While Gracine might have been driving the vehicle, Sutton certainly asserted his will the last time the group stopped. Nearly a dozen times over the next mile, Metzger and Jillian came close to striking the truck’s top with the tops of their heads. Several other dirt roads branched away from their current path, but Gracine continued to go straight, likely in the direction of whatever lake, pond, or river awaited them at the site.

  Metzger figured any location within the thick woods provided good hunting, but one needed to be near the water for the added benefit of fishing. For some strange reason the undead didn’t thin out in number as the group drove deeper into the woods. Metzger couldn’t imagine how the undead population remained so steady, even as they drove closer to the water. Something felt extremely suspicious and out of place to him, as though someone had sabotaged the area or people had flocked there only to experience disastrous results.

  A zombie tumbled into the trees from the dirt road ahead when the box truck clipped it, clearing the way without hesitation. Metzger understood Sutton’s desire to examine the camp as soon as possible, though he worried the man might accidentally place them all in danger, blindly leading them into the heart of the evident danger surrounding them.

  While they traveled too quickly for the undead to reach in and assault them, Metzger dared roll down his window all the way, drawing the intensifying odor of fire into the vehicle. Nothing visible ahead indicated smoke or flames, but Jillian now tensed in the passenger’s seat, sensing something the abnormal danger.

  “Why can’t we ever go somewhere and find peaceful surroundings?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure there’s a place isolated enough to be peaceful right now,” Metzger thought aloud.

  A few more zombies fell to the grill of the box truck before the group finally reached a fork in the road. Ahead, the path led directly to what appeared to be a shack and a dock capable of securing about a dozen boats. A few boats remained moored to the anchor points, and two were partly submerged in the shallow water near the shore, giving Metzger an eerie feeling when he spied the wrecks. Another path went to the left with a fairly smooth-looking road, but Metzger knew his luck wouldn’t allow such an easy trip as the box truck took the path to the right instead.

  Although the road wasn’t terrible, several dips ensured the ride wasn’t going to be smooth. At the junction the forest had diminished considerably, but this path took them back into the thicket of trees, barely allowing them a view of the lake to their left. More outlet roads appeared to their right, which would take them deeper into the woods, but the group passed all of them until they came to a path that appeared as though it might take them closer to the lake once again.

  Metzger took notice as a charred odor returned to the air, and with it, the landscape began to reveal evidence of what happened in the wooded area that housed multiple camps. Trees and shrubs were sometimes partially burned, or reduced to piles of ash, which caused him to believe someone carelessly or intentionally set fire to part of the camp. The further they traveled, the more destruction he saw on either side of the truck, with barely any plant life surviving whatever blaze ripped through the woods.

  He suspected that natural firestops in the form of occasional gaps between the wildlife, and the fact that the ground remained somewhat moist from recent rainfall, kept the fire from spreading throughout the entire forest. Strangely, it was the only damage they found in the private reserve, and it happened to be in the direction of Sutton’s cabin. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach because he couldn’t imagine they were about to discover anything positive once they reached the cabin.

  For the briefest of moments the landscape
to his left opened up, and Metzger was able to see the lake in all of its beauty. It looked like it went on forever, or at least farther than he believed he could swim without needing assistance from a life preserver, before reaching a shore on the opposite side. The water looked clear, and the sun glistened off the top of the tiny crests that lapped inward toward the shore. It reminded him of warm summer days around Lake Erie when he and his brother visited the beach, or his father took him to the old railroad depot that had since been turned into a strip of giant windmills built to produce power.

  Lake Erie wasn’t always pleasant, sometimes bringing harsh winds inland, which in turn brought heavy snow during the winter months. The picturesque scene before him was enough to remind Metzger of his childhood days for what amounted to a flicker in time before trees obscured his view momentarily. After a few seconds passed, with the burning odor growing stronger than ever, a horrific view replaced the magical moment when trees now reduced to black, charred stumps revealed the camp at last, and a scene that looked like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster in the background.

  “Oh my God,” Jillian muttered slowly as Metzger brought the truck to a stop.

  All three vehicles stopped in what could be considered a driveway of sorts to the cabin that once provided a summer retreat for Sutton and his family. It was literally the end of the road because every other cabin along the lake, or deeper in the woods, required a path they’d already bypassed.

  Metzger stepped from the truck, looking at the remains of the cabin, mostly standing a foot or two off the ground in smoldering remains. A stone chimney towered above the blackened remains of the building, and part of the front porch was spared for some reason, but the rest was left utterly destroyed. Every tree, every shrub, and virtually every blade of grass around the camp was scorched. Metzger looked to the woods off to his right, seeing that the destruction continued several hundred yards before it ran out of fuel, tapering off to a smoldering fire.