Within half a mile he spied a sign that pointed off to the right, indicating the church was a quarter of a mile down the road. He made the turn, seeing a paradox in that the sun shined in the distance, but the surrounding winds currently hunted them like prey. At first, a wooded area obscured the property they searched for, but after climbing a small hill with the vehicles, Metzger and Jillian saw a clearing with a church, several outbuildings, and a graveyard.
“Creepy,” Jillian said as the wipers cleared the way for them to see through the windshield.
Aside from the church grounds, no other houses, barns, or businesses were visible in the distance. It looked like a safe haven, despite the winds hurling plastic bags and other waste across the property that still looked somewhat manicured. In the foreground the graveyard contained close to a hundred graves, occupying a rolling hill that descended toward the highway behind the drivers. The church, a white building with a steeple, stood out as the most prominent feature on the property, but a small pavilion was located further in from the county road. A small white utility shed could be seen between the church and graveyard, but a larger, almost barn-sized structure painted a slate gray color loomed on the other side of the worship building.
Raindrops hit the windshield sounding like pebbles, and only turning the wipers to their highest speed allowed Metzger to see the grounds. He drove down a slight bank before an equally inclined hill brought him to the gravel driveway of the church. It had a very grassroots feel about it, as though a single preacher presided over a few dozen devoted followers each Sunday, and possibly on Wednesday evenings. Perhaps the churchgoers volunteered their time and money to help maintain the grounds, because the paintjobs looked recent and the grounds didn’t look like hayfields.
He half expected to see a zombie staggering through the cemetery to complete the cliché zombie movie setting. Having never seen a case of the already dead being grandfathered in with whatever plague killed the living and turned them, Metzger didn’t envision the dead clawing at their coffins, six feet under, trying to free themselves. This particular area appeared too rural to attract the undead, though that didn’t mean it was exempted from danger. Driving along the driveway to the side of the larger outbuilding that protected his truck from the elements, Metzger didn’t harbor any intentions of stepping out of the vehicle.
Taking notice of skylights or solar panels atop the roof of the larger building, he wondered if it might be an area for recreation, though this didn’t appear to be a mega church that lured people in with a gymnasium or a coffee shop. If anything, congregation members likely enjoyed the fact that it wasn’t attached to a big city, or surrounded by urban landscape.
During the flight, and later driving south toward Norfolk, Jillian and Metzger transitioned from small talk to conversations about faith, their past lives, and how the world might end up moving forward. Metzger even shared the story about how Sutton claimed to have met Gracine, mostly because he ran out of other things to say. Now Jillian brought up a part of one conversation Metzger hadn’t provided details about during an earlier talk.
“Why didn’t you ever look for her?”
“Who? My girlfriend?”
“Yeah. I mean I get that she dumped you for no reason, but it just seems a little cold that you never called or looked for her before heading to New York.”
“I don’t know,” Metzger admitted, his tone as neutral as his feelings on the subject. “I suppose in my mind she was with some other dude and they were probably scrambling for their lives, or already chasing the living to munch on them.”
“Did she ever call you?”
“No,” Metzger said as rain continued to pelt the windshield, not yet ready to relent. “We never communicated after the split, and admittedly I was pretty bitter after getting my teaching credentials in Ohio and making the move there. I was planning for marriage and a family, but I guess she had other ideas.”
“Why Cincinnati?”
“It was a smaller area outside of Cincinnati, actually, but she had family down there and wanted to be closer to them. So I made the sacrifice.”
“That’s pretty noble,” Jillian said with a bit of admiration. “I wish I could’ve found a guy who would make that kind of commitment.”
Metzger scoffed, unable to believe she found time for anything aside from classes and weekend parties.
“What?” Jillian asked defensively.
“You’re barely twenty, and you were still in college,” he answered. “I can’t believe a steady relationship was even in your wheelhouse.”
“You were in college once. Don’t tell me you sat in your dorm studying all the time.”
“Touché.”
“I wasn’t a heavy partier or anything, but I didn’t sit around the house either.”
As though a stark reminder of how they had it in days past, a zombie smacked against Metzger’s window, wanting to get at them as it clawed at the glass with a snarl. Rain and wind failed to faze it, though the fact it was able to stand indicated the weather pattern might finally be breaking.
After being startled momentarily, Metzger returned his attention to the conversation.
“So you were going to graduate, get your doctorate in history, and settle down with the perfect husband and raise two perfect children?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just wanted to unwind on the weekends and occasionally get laid.”
Metzger felt certain his face flushed a little, feeling as though one of his high school students had just confessed something naughty to him.
“And now?” he asked as the zombie continued to make noise behind him, refusing to leave now that it found certified living humans.
“Now I’m just looking to survive first and foremost,” Jillian answered in such an apathetic way that Metzger questioned how much of her past few statements held true.
In what seemed like an instant the rain and hail ceased and the clouds broke overhead, allowing the sun to stream through for a few seconds. Metzger popped his door open, sending the zombie tumbling to the ground a safe distance from the truck. Pulling the pack containing his swords from the seat behind him, he stepped out and used the shorter blade to slice cleanly through the skull of his dimwitted adversary.
He looked around, finding his colleagues stepping from their vehicles, all immediately struck with the few final raindrops. Taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, Metzger enjoyed the fresh smell the cleansing rains brought through the area. More often than not, the living grew accustomed to body odor and the lingering stench of the undead.
Metzger cleaned the blade of his sword along the flannel shirt the zombie had worn, but no longer needed. Replacing it to the pack where he usually stored it, he heard a snort from the building behind him that caused him to slowly turn. They were parked on one of the narrow sides of the barn, but the double doors were located at the opposite end.
Metzger thought of the gray building as a barn because it didn’t truly fit any other description so far as outbuildings went. He tried looking for any holes in the wood slats, or gaps between the seams to look inside, but the building was well put together and didn’t offer many flaws. He thought the noise he heard sounded like an animal, and now the others followed him around the longer side of the barn as curiosity got the better of them.
No lock held the double doors shut, but a wooden post was lying across two clasps so the door didn’t simply open on its own. Unsure of what to expect, but feeling reasonably certain the creature inside wasn’t a zombie, he slowly removed the post and tossed it to the ground, allowing the doors to slowly fall open.
“Wow,” he said, finding two pens inside.
One contained a chestnut horse and a smaller brown pony with a mane that appeared a straw color. The other pen held a cow, and none of the animals appeared to be malnourished or desperately in need of food or attention. The barn protected them from the elements, and the undead, but someone obviously made a point to care for the animals.
“What do you make of that?” Luke asked aloud as Samantha perked up around the creatures.
He picked her up, allowing her to stroke the horse along its elongated face since it seemed friendly, even welcoming human affection. For a fleeting moment the world felt a little normal without the weight of having to travel, being attacked by strangers or zombies, or scrounging for food on their minds. The advent of fall colors surrounded them with some leaves beginning to turn, a few lying at their feet, and the grass beginning to turn from a lush green to a softer hue.
An upper level accessible only by a stairway along the right side of the barn might have held feed, supplies, holiday decorations, or any number of other items. Metzger thought about the panels along the roof, wondering if it might be some kind of greenhouse since the barn didn’t really need electricity. His mind quickly changed direction to hitting the road and getting to the military base before his brother was deployed on some secret mission. He wasn’t about to leave the three animals penned inside the barn unless he knew someone was available to care for them. He felt animals deserved freedom to roam, even if the odds eventually caught up with them.
About to take another deep breath of fresh country air while he could, Metzger heard the sound of footsteps in the leaves on the other side of the open door, so he quickly moved it for a look, all too aware he wasn’t readily armed to confront the living. Instead of one of the usual threats, however, he found an older man with a fringe of gray hair holding up his hands defensively.
“Please don’t hurt the animals,” he immediately pleaded, his left eye wandering toward his left temple.
“Who are you?” Gracine inquired, already clutching a sidearm much to Metzger’s surprise.
“I’m the caretaker for the church. My wife and I are all that’s left and we live here now.”
He suddenly looked regretful over mentioning his wife to strangers, though he looked rather nervous overall. Metzger supposed half a dozen armed people visiting one’s property would likely cause anyone some tense moments.
“You look like nice folks, so I’m just going to ask that you don’t harm us or the critters.”
“We’re not the types to harm anyone unless we’re defending ourselves,” Metzger stated. “We stopped here to escape the weather, and heard your horse.”
“What are you doing with the animals if you don’t mind me asking?” Sutton inquired.
“At the moment we’re trying to preserve the species. In the wild they’d certainly get attacked by those things.”
“In a pinch they become food?”
“We hope it doesn’t come to that,” the older man answered. “I’ve been building them a pen out back as I find the materials, but we’ve had issues with people stopping by.”
“Where’s the rest of your congregation?” Luke asked.
“Some came here, but they didn’t make it. A few contacted me after things went bad saying they were going to try and make a run for their families, or out here for safety with others. I think some of them were bitten and never made it.”
Metzger wanted to trust the man, and instinct told him this wasn’t a dangerous situation, but experience kept nagging at the back of his mind. He hadn’t seen a sweet old lady wife yet, and for all he knew she was a rotting corpse seated in a rocking chair that this man talked to, answering himself in a woman’s voice as he played both roles.
“We should probably get back on the road,” he said, not feeling entirely comfortable lingering around inhabited property.
“Stay a little while and rest if you want to,” the man offered, lowering his voice a bit. He spoke the words quickly, almost desperately as his eyes glanced to one side as though testing if anyone noticed his actions. “The wife can put on some tea and your little one can play with the horses if she wants to. We don’t get nice folks stopping by here very often.”
“You sound as though you’ve had some bad ones though,” Vazquez stated. “We’d hate to impose.”
“We’ve had trouble,” the man admitted. “The rotters, animal predators that want to eat these three, and a few people here and there. My name’s Tom by the way. Tom Alderson.”
“Good to meet you, Tom,” Metzger said, shaking the man’s hand. “And I hate to be rude, but we really have somewhere to be.”
A look of absolute desperation now crossed Alderson’s face.
“I can’t stay out here long or he’ll get suspicious,” the man said just above a whisper, immediately drawing Metzger’s eyes toward the house. “Don’t look! He’ll know I said something.”
“Who?”
“This lunatic has been keeping my wife and I hostage the past few days. He sent me out here to get rid of all of you, saying he’d kill my wife if I didn’t.”
Metzger glanced at Sutton, wanting the man to voice his usual stance on such matters.
“Don’t look at me,” Sutton replied with a shrug.
“I knew I could count on you, Colby.”
“You already know this isn’t our problem,” Sutton said, the sour look on his face not changing one bit.
“This isn’t our problem,” Metzger reiterated, wanting to get back to the highway, sensing this man wasn’t telling the whole truth based on his twitchy behavior.
“Please,” Alderson pleaded.
“You can’t be serious,” Jillian said, stepping forward. “We could walk in there and end this now.”
“My wife,” Alderson said nervously. “He might shoot her.”
Everyone remained silent a moment, fearful of taking too long and alerting the potential threat inside the church.
“We could wait until nighttime,” Gracine suggested.
Metzger sighed inwardly, knowing the delay would be devastating to his plan of reaching Norfolk by the end of the day or sometime the next day. Sutton shot him a look that indicated complete agreement. Everyone else appeared sympathetic to the caretaker’s plight, and even Metzger felt sorry for the man if the tale he told was legitimate. He questioned why an individual would take two people hostage for a few days. A drifter would either take what he wanted and leave, or simply murder the couple if he was truly delusional.
“We need to go,” he finally said aloud.
Luke and Jillian started to say something in protest.
“We need to go, or we’ll look suspicious,” Metzger said firmly, beginning to close the barn doors, much to Samantha’s chagrin.
Everyone followed suit, a few even waving goodbye to Alderson to sell their departure to anyone who might be watching.
A few minutes later everyone was loaded into their vehicles and driving down to the highway until they parked to talk strategy. Metzger still wasn’t certain he wanted to put lives at risk over someone’s tale of woe.
“We aren’t going to make it to the base by tonight,” Vazquez spoke first, indicating he wanted to stay and help.
“No, but we still have a few hours of good daylight,” Metzger countered. “We could get awful damn close.”
“How can you be so heartless?” Jillian asked, turning on him a bit suddenly for someone who usually followed his lead.
“I don’t trust everything he’s selling us.”
“Are you sure it’s not just for selfish reasons?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t being a little selfish, but my instincts are telling me something’s up with this situation. People don’t just walk into a church and hold other people hostage for days on end.”
All eyes began drifting toward Sutton.
“Why are you putting this on me?” he asked gruffly. “I’m the only logical one here, and you already know I think this entire trip is a waste of time.”
“A few of us could stay and handle this before catching up,” Gracine suggested, indicating she and Sutton would be the two.
“It’s not a good idea to split us up,” Metzger said. “Too many things can go wrong on the road, and we have strength in numbers.”
Buster had been walking around, sn
iffing the area since the group exited the vehicles. He suddenly made a noise that indicated he detected danger somewhere nearby. Everyone looked, finding a zombie who appeared covered in mud as though he’d fallen into a dirty puddle during the storm, navigating through some disabled cars.
“Got it,” Gracine said, walking over to silently handle the threat.
“We don’t have to wait until dark,” Sutton suggested. “If it’s really one guy, we could take him out quickly.”
“I’m not comfortable murdering someone if we don’t know the whole story,” Metzger said. “If we’re seriously going to deal with this, we need to observe the situation, decide what’s going on, and figure out how to handle it.”
“Which would mean staying until dark so we can see inside the church without getting spotted,” Jillian stated the obvious.
“I guess it does,” Metzger said with a sigh.
***
After a few hours of cautiously rummaging through nearby vehicles and dealing with the few undead that approached them, the group looked and felt exhausted. Following the rain, an intense sun appeared, bringing an unusually muggy fall heat that followed the storm. Sunscreen wasn’t readily available, and a few members of the group showed signs of being sunburned. Metzger often thought of items he took for granted back in the day, feeling his own skin irritated by the sun’s rays.
Eventually they all drove back to the church, parking out of sight from anywhere on the property. Considering they were all armed, and only a single threat allegedly awaited them inside the church, they didn’t approach in covert fashion. Luke stayed behind with Samantha and Buster to watch over the vehicles as the others approached the graveyard, attempting to stay out of direct view of any church windows because they weren’t crawling, and they barely bothered crouching as they darted around the tombstones.
A purple hue overtook the sky as the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, giving the group better cover. Sutton had brought along a conventional sniper rifle, along with a shotgun for closer range. Most everyone else carried pistols, prepared to act as backup or defend themselves if necessary. Not much else had been spoken about anyone’s take on Tom Alderson’s story, or how much of it they believed. Once it was determined they were sticking around until dark, everyone simply relegated themselves to seeing the truth in person.
The Undead Chronicles_Book 1_Home and Back Again Page 34