Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 7): The Trinity

by Chris Philbrook

  My mouth hits the ground, and about two seconds later, as I’m reeling from what I realized I just saw, James slides an arrow into her right eye with the bow, and she tumbles backwards over the embankment, and she lands in the rocks near the edge of the river.

  I haven’t told anyone about the scratches or the watch tapping yet. I’m far too frigging paranoid and worried they’ll string me up or burn me at the stake if I do anything like that. I feel like I’ve already pushed my luck with the X-Files factor here at school lately and any more weirdness will be my undoing.

  Gilbert buddy I hope you were wrong. I hope you were very damn wrong.

  I’m really wishing Lindsey would figure out how to operate on Adrian’s neck so we can get him at least awake and back with us. I feel like things would be better if he could just sit up and say a few words again. If he could even type his name in this damn diary the world would be improved. But she’s super scared, and afraid she’s going to nick an artery or main vein or whatever and kill him, and we really don’t want that. She’s studying more and more to try and build up the knowledge and courage, but I’m scared. Scared she won’t get there fast enough.

  Oh, and adding insult to injury, Blake burst a few of his stitches this morning moving around too much. Moron couldn’t take it slow. He bled all over the place, but will be fine. That’s what he gets for trying to oversee the hard cider manufacture.

  Not excited about tomorrow.

  Abby

  November 2011

  November 3rd

  You’ve heard the old saying hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? I think the person who made that crap up had never actually watched hell’s fury first hand. It’s a terribly short sighted statement.

  Gilbert was right. The storm was coming, and now it is upon us. I think it is also going to get worse as time goes on. I’m so dang tired of running around trying to plug holes in problems. I can’t even fathom what it was like for poor Adrian when things were bad like they are right now. At least today we have more people and resources to deal with these issues unlike the majority of the stuff he had to deal with.

  More and more respect for that guy’s resilience.

  More and more worry that we may need him in a frigging hurry.

  Yesterday and today things have been a real quagmire (no giggity, fyi). Problems have cropped up in almost every direction you can imagine, and trying to sort out how to deal with it, when to deal with it, and who can deal with it, has started to wear our patience as thin as can be. As you can imagine, I’ve got a lot to write about, Dad.

  Driving to Gavin’s Tower the other day was a real bitch, let alone the fiasco we encountered when we got there. Like, Mom when Aunt Flo is visiting bitch, as she says. The drive there was like the way things were a year ago. Zombies everywhere. We couldn’t go a hundred feet without hitting two or three, and that meant driving fairly slow, and being very careful. We had to stop once when the plow truck blew out a tire driving over a body, and that got hairy in a hurry. We were swapping out the blown tire on main street pretty much right across the street from the little pharmacy in town, and slowly but surely more and more zeds keep coming around buildings, and down the street at us.

  Fortunately we’d brought a large enough group to get the tire changed and still cover all our bases. I took up a spot leaning on the hood of one of the Army trucks, and Amanda took up a spot leaning on the bumper of the ambulance. Between the two of us, we kept things pretty safe, except for one moment where two or three zeds came sort of stumbling at us kinda fast when Amanda was reloading her rifle. That was close. Alex and George were also helping, but they haven’t had to deal with so many scary things at the same time before I don’t think. They shot a lot of bullets.

  We chewed through too many bullets in that scene though. Every time I heard a gun go off I kept thinking that we were taking too long, and that we were wasting too much ammo. I can just think of how Adrian would’ve chewed our asses off. Too many nervous folks taking too many shots. I think a lot of it came from how the Army guys had to change the tire (or at least do most of the work for us), while us non-Army people were shooting. It was a personnel issue. Looking back on it, yeah, we should’ve swapped out at least one or two people.

  We moved on, and from the frying pan, we went into the fire. I want to say it was perhaps five minutes after we left the spot where we changed out the truck’s flat that we heard immediate radio contact from Gavin’s Tower. It was Renee, and she was hooting and hollering that we needed to be on the watch for people who had been attacking the tower for the past night and a half. Later on when I was talking to Mike he said that because the generator went dry on gas during their gunfight, the repeater tower wasn’t amplifying their signal, so we had to get close for them to reach us. I think it also was us getting close enough for them to hear our gunshots too. We’re still piecing together everything now, and it doesn’t make a ton of sense to anyone just yet. It’s hard to think straight after people die.

  Immediately we slowed ourselves down even more. Guns went out windows, and we were prepared for an assault by more marauders. I started to wonder if it was people from the Factory, you know the people Adrian started calling “outsiders” but that made no sense. I don’t think we left them with enough guns to really mount a powerful assault on us. Of course now we have confirmed it (more on that in a bit Dad) so it’s a moot point.

  Alright so like maybe five minutes later we turned onto the street where the tower is, and we saw a huge part of why they couldn’t radio us. The huge metal gate/door thingy Martin made was crushed into the side of the building like the Hulk had punched it. About a car length or two away from it, was a beat up old pickup that was all messed up. From what we saw, it looked like the truck rammed the gate, smashing it in so the people (read: marauders) could access the tower.

  Renee told us that they heard the smash and felt the building shake at about six o’clock the other day, and the whole group of folks ran down or out to balconies to see what was happening. At first they thought it was an earthquake, but when Angela got shot at looking out a balcony, they knew things were bad.

  They never found out how many people were involved. I guess when we were there the other day our folks counted eight bodies, which is a lot, and Renee and Angela said there were at least two cars leaving too, and they guessed that there were as many as six more folks who escaped. The people attacking came up the stairs of the building, shooting their way up as fast as they could go, and Dwayne, Renee, and Angela all held firm in a stairway landing where they had good cover. Amen to Mike and Mom for setting up some fallback points in the building. If it weren’t for those, they said they would’ve lost the building in less than an hour.

  Because the fighting was so intense, and the generator that powered the whole upper floor area we use regularly was low on gas anyway, things went south. They didn’t have time to get to the radio to tell us what was happening because the shooting was so intense. And because the generator was low on gas to boot, when they DID get to the radio, the repeater tower was out, and they couldn’t get to the spare cans either. It was a total crap situation, and it meant they couldn’t get in touch with us to ask for help.

  I guess they held them off for a really long time, and judging by the amount of bullet shells on the floor of the landing, they shot almost every single bullet they had. James said when he took an inventory of their ammunition, they had just 18 bullets left.

  That’s like, nothing. That’s like, when we first arrived at school low Dad. If those strange people attacked them with one more big push, they would’ve probably just walked up the stairs, and killed everyone.

  Dwayne died. I know many folks won’t complain about this, least of all Alex and George as they caught a lot of his homophobic bullshit, but Dwayne did a really good job at everything he was asked. The Westfield school people were all pretty shook up when news got around that he had been shot during the attack. Not good at all. Renee was all broken up over i
t, and a bunch of us spent a lot of time consoling her, and trying to make her at least a little better. I don't think we helped.

  I guess an hour or two before we headed downtown to “rescue” them, Dwayne was shooting at them from a balcony ledge, and his face in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he got a bullet right through the neck. I saw his body, and it wasn’t pretty at all. Most of his neck was gone entirely, and his head was flopping around like a chunk of meat. His ear was all the way down on his chest.

  Gross.

  A few of us dragged the bodies out while we refueled the generator and got it started again. Once the tower was up and fully powered, we sent out a quick radio to the Factory to see if they were alright too.

  They aren’t doing all that bad, but they are still dealing with a rather large handful of dead folk. Remember how I said they all disappeared from there the other day? I guess a huge group of them passed through last night around dinnertime, and stopped cold, and started trashing everything around the club, trying to get inside. I guess the folks there, skanks and all have been working overtime to keep them from breaking into the windows there. Luckily for them the windows are strong, and have either steel over them, or really thick iron bars. I guess they also pissed through a lot of their bullets, and one of the first things they asked for was more ammo.

  Yeah we’ll get right on that. Once we get through all the other crap we’ve got to sort out.

  So we’re talking to them, and everyone is kinda staring at each other, wondering what the holy hell is going on, when we get a radio from Hector, who went up on the roof to check on the tower to make sure it was fine. All he says is something like, “Hey, you all better get the fuck up here pronto.”

  So a bunch of us run up to the roof, and the moment I see the skyline, I can see what he’s freaking out about. There’s this super black plume of smoke rising into the sky about two or three miles away. At the base of it is a raging inferno at a building. The building was on the far side of town towards where you died Dad, towards STIG.

  Mom pointed it out first. Pointed out that it was the last gas station we hadn’t hit yet. The last large reserve of fuel in town other than the gas station Blake pretty much emptied the other day. Well, maybe a month ago now. When he went there with the old Westfield water truck and just filled the damn thing up with high octane. I know I don’t say many nice things about people, but thank God Blake had the smarts and good fricking luck to get all that gas when he did. You know why Dad?

  When we looked the other way towards where the second gas station in town was, it was on fire as well. Clear and obvious sabotage. Immediately we figured it was whoever just got done attacking the tower. We figured maybe they had been living in town, or maybe they were a splinter group from the Factory, but the Factory people said everyone was accounted for. So either they are lying to us, or it was a completely random group of people that attacked the tower for no good reason other than to try and take it for their own.

  Let’s go over all the bullshit that needs to be done: The tower’s hardened gate/door on the first floor was trashed by that truck, so it needs to be replaced, and Martin says he needs more metal to work with to make that happen.

  We need more metal to make that happen.

  The tower needed more ammo, so we left Angela, Danny Jr., Hector, and Alex and George there with a large amount of guns and ammo. The folks there right now, the folks I just mentioned, are all armed with AR rifles like mine and Adrian’s so they can shoot a lot of bullets really well if they have to. Hopefully that’ll be enough firepower to dissuade anyone else from trying to attack them. Plus, they are going to radio for help like, immediately if anything sketchy happens.

  The Factory needs more ammunition.

  Both of the remaining gas stations with any gas left in them were set on fire, and we need to check it out to see if any fuel is still available. If there’s no gasoline, then our generators will be running dry a lot sooner into winter than we are expecting. This could make for a crap winter.

  Never mind that our vehicles that run on gasoline will be bent over. I guess the fuel that runs your furnace is diesel, according to Adrian’s writings here, so if we need to, then we’ve got a boatload of that just laying around in the fuel tanks in all the homes across town here. I am going to say that’s awesome news, because it’s the only goodish news we’ve had since all this bullcrap started.

  Okay so we like, left all those folks at the tower to hold down the fort, and we started to head home to school. I recall thinking that we’d seen a lot of undead on the roads, and I mention that to mom, and she mentions that to Mike, and we radio back to campus to get Lindsey and Andrea and Jenna and Andrea’s daughter out of the farm on Jones Road and into the campus somewhere. At least inside the new wall we all broke our backs building, they’d be safe, at least until we knew this had all blown over. They were moved into campus when we arrived.

  It took us a good long trip back, because when we made it close to Auburn Lake Road, it was THICK with zeds. They must’ve come from the west, from the general direction of Westfield, because we would’ve seen them when we were driving earlier otherwise. It’s like they just… appeared.

  This gets more and more strange with every passing hour.

  That was two days ago. The… 1st. Yesterday we hunkered down and listened and watched to see if anything would happen. Hector said the gas station fires burned out last that night in town, which sadly tells us there probably is no more gasoline.

  The gate on the bridge stood up well to the huge herd of zeds that have been pressing against it since late yesterday afternoon. We are now struggling with a decent strategy on what to do about that. If we start shooting, or if we walk up to the gate and start poking holes in heads, we’re going to be literally waist deep in bodies blocking the single entrance out of here. We’d have to plow them out of the way, and that might wreck the bridge or the outer gate, which would fricking blow. We’re thinking about crossing the river maybe, and luring a whole bunch of them away just to thin it out some.

  Not sure yet.

  Ollie and Melissa are freaking out over what the heck might be happening to Lenny and the few folks back at Lenny’s farm. If the tower was attacked, and the Factory as well, then there’s no reason to think Lenny escaped the attention of the Devil. Why not right? Evil with intent should be as thorough as anything else, right?

  So that’s on our agenda, once we figure out how to get out of here. I know I’m forgetting stuff here Dad, and I’m sorry. I can barely remember what happened yesterday. This is crazy.

  Otis is being an asshole too. He keeps jumping on my legs when I am walking around, and he’s managed to scrape a few nice diggers into my legs. Mallory is starting to get angry that the cat is spending all his time with me, but oh well. He likes who he likes. It sucks it’s more me than her, but oh well.

  No facts about Adrian. Other than I bet he’d handle this.

  Abby

  November 6th

  I wish I could find more ambition to sit down with this frigging computer and write down bad news. I don’t mind it as much when I have good things to share, but I’ve put off writing for a couple days now mostly because I just don’t want to relive the events of the past few days.

  I’m not sure how Adrian has stayed sane so long doing this. I understand that getting things off your chest does help you, but experiencing horrible things, then taking the time to remember them and write them down seems like it’d do more harm than good. Dad, I’m scared that if I keep writing these scary things down, I’ll go crazy. Or at least get angry. I don’t want to be angry again. I spent so many years angry at kids at school, kids in the neighborhood, you and Mom for being good parents, and Randy for being my fucked up little brother. So much useless anger that I feel is past me is coming back because I have so little good to experience and write about. I’m far too young to be this angry. I’m old enough to appreciate that though.

  Oh man. I hate this. I have to do
this though don’t I? Adrian wants me to carry his torch until he’s back at this, and I can’t NOT do this. I hate being reliable.

  The day after I last sat down here to write Dad, we had a huge argument in the morning. Ollie was beside himself talking about how he was scared for his dad back in Westfield. Poor Lenny was back there at the farm, with just Rachael, Kylie, William and Wendy to keep him safe. I know this sounds stupid coming from me Dad, but Will, Wendy, and Kylie are all my age, and they’re not like me, if you get my drift. They’re good people, likeable and stuff, but if it gets dangerous, they didn’t have the benefit of months of working with Adrian to get their skills up to par. Lenny was a veteran, and a lifelong hunter too, so he clearly could take care of things, but…

  Ollie, rightfully so I sort of imagine, said that if we didn’t send some kind of group to go at least check on his Dad, he’d stop working. We can’t afford Ollie not working, nor could we deal with an Ollie forced to work and angry at us all, so we mounted up like cowboys and cowgirls in the cars, and we headed out to Westfield. I kinda knew it would suck, but what has to be done, has to be done.

  Ever do something and immediately regret it? Like say something and as you’re closing your mouth you realize what you said was bad, and you immediately realize you should NOT have said that? Leaving on this trip felt like that. It took us the better part of an hour to shoot or stab the collected undead at the gate and then clear their bodies out of the way, so that sucked right off the bat.

  The roads on the way to Westfield though were clear, all things considered. I mean we had to hit or drive around a little more than usual, but it wasn’t that bad. Compare it to how downtown was the past week or so, it was like a stroll on the beach.