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

by Chris Philbrook

  Kevin hefted the sturdy weight of the crowbar as he walked directly through the parking lot of a small corner convenience store. He’d already checked the pumps and they were long since dry. Shuffling around the corner of the small brick store was a woman with half her face destroyed. She was still wearing a pretty pink blouse that had been torn open, revealing a pale, swaying breast. Kevin wondered where her bra had gone off to. She opened her mouth and snapped her teeth at him as he brought the heavy crowbar down into the very top of her forehead. She twisted awkwardly and went down at his feet, the crowbar caught in her skull. Kevin looked over at Roger and pointed that the weapon was stuck. Roger gave him the thumbs up and Kevin began to pry it out.

  No more than two seconds later Roger hollered out urgently, “Kevin down, down!” Kevin had a millisecond to register Roger’s instructions before he heard the machine gun’s ripping burst of fire. Even in the hands of a skilled shooter like Roger occasionally a few extra rounds slip out.

  Kevin rolled and looked up at the corner of the store. From out of nowhere beyond the main drag a group of undead nearly ten deep had appeared. Kevin was on his back and less than six feet from them. He felt like a turtle, flipped on its back. He abandoned the stuck pry bar and angled the M4 on his chest up at his targets. As he flipped the selector to semi he heard another burst of fire from Roger’s gun. Several of the zombies, all of them just feet away from where he was were cut down from the heavy fire. Kevin shot fast from the hip as he crawled backwards, taking a pair of shots to kill his first target. Roger held his fire for a moment as Kevin got some distance and cleared the line of fire somewhat.

  “Light ‘em up Rog! Go!” Kevin hollered. Roger responded with a burst of 5.56 that lasted for a few seconds. Kevin watched, his stomach revolting as head after head exploded in a rain of black and gray gore. The blood of the dead was vile indeed.

  Down low on the ground two of the undead that had been torn almost in half from the initial large burst were pulling their upper torsos and ragged legs towards Kevin. The persistence of the zombies was single minded, resolute. Murder. Kevin didn’t mess around with the crowbar, and just put a single round from his rifle into their skulls, ripping them apart and sending skull and brain across the leaf covered pavement.

  “Clear!” Kevin hollered. He looked over at Roger and gave him the thumbs up. Roger responded in kind and turned the turret away, searching for more targets. From the far rear of the convoy, thirty yards away, fresh gunfire erupted.

  *****

  Quan and Harold had weapons up and firing, picking their targets carefully, professionally. Even with all their experience it was difficult to hit the head of a moving target, and every few shots one of them would let slip a “fuck” or “shit” as a round sailed high, or wide to the side. Their accuracy was still far above normal for the lay person with a firearm, and they were still disappointed in every miss. Train for excellence, not adequacy.

  A river of undead had vomited from the buildings on the sides of the street in the small town. Hal and Quan had no idea how many were now approaching them from all sides, but the number was alarming. It didn’t help that the undead were getting closer, and fast.

  Hal dropped the magazine on his M4 and slapped in a fresh one. He took a second to thumb his radio, “Hey if you pricks aren’t busy, we need a few more guns back here. We’re bollocks deep in these fuckers.”

  From the turret of the rear humvee Jaden sent out a burst of fire from his SAW. Jaden was more skilled than Roger, and only a few rounds belched out of the light machine gun. Several bodies dropped, their heads eradicated by the precise gunfire. Hal spared a fast look over his shoulder at the leader of the Air Force operators to thank him. He looked back just in time to see that one of the undead had managed to climb up onto the truck, and was collapsing down onto Jaden from behind, teeth clenching on him in silent fury.

  “JADEN!” Hal screamed but it was too late. The zombie had done its deed. Jaden screamed out in pain as he punched it in the face with a gloved fist, dislodging it from his bleeding shoulder. Jaden twisted in the turret and pulled out his service pistol, shooting the zombie still clutching to the top of the truck with a mouthful of his own flesh in the face. The zombie tumbled backwards over the edge of the roof of the humvee, impacting on the pavement with a crunch. Jaden’s face was twisted in pain and frustration as he threw the pistol into the truck, and returned to the bigger SAW. Without missing a beat, the bitten man started to fire once more, mowing down the encroaching horde that threatened his friends. Hal turned back to the same threat, and started shooting again. They’d deal with Jaden and his bite as soon they were all out of the frying pan. For now, his gun was needed.

  *****

  Jaden sat in the front passenger doorway of the truck, his one leg on the ground. His prosthetic sat on the seat beside him. He had stripped out of his body armor and fatigues and was wearing only his underwear now. The purple bite wound on his shoulder was ugly. Red blood was dried all down his chest and every breath brought a brief twinge of pain to his face. The entire group of men and women in the convoy was gathered around, watching as the tired man said his final peace to those he’d lived with, and was about to die for. Everyone was gathered around him.

  “Joel, Roger, Ethan, you guys take good care of each other. It’s been an honor to have you as my team. You take good care of these knuckleheads too. Don’t drink too much beer either. It’ll give you the shits, and that’s a tactical disadvantage. Can’t have you copping a squat when we’re being beared down on.”

  Ethan wiped his eyes and turned away. He couldn’t handle it anymore. The men were far too close to each other and this was pain he could endure no longer.

  “Kevin, Quan, Fitz, Hal, Kate, Logan, and the rest of ya... Y’all are a bunch of worthless shits.” Jaden grinned painfully. Streams of cold sweat ran down his temple, then his cheek as the bite's effect sat in deeper. “Just playing. It’s been real. You’ve had my back many a time, and this was just due. Losing the leg was a warning shot. I have made my peace with my fate. Don’t let me dying slow down what needs to be done. I get that.”

  Jaden turned to Michelle. “Miss, I know I’ve been harsh on you more than a few times. I’m sorry. Sometimes the story you sell seems real far-fetched, and I am a man rooted in the mundane and real. If I can't see it, I don't believe it. I sincerely hope you find this Adrian fella, and fix whatever it is that’s wrong with him and this God-forsaken world. You tell Becky and little Shelby I said goodbye please. You tell little Shelby I didn’t suffer, and that everything will be alright."

  The group fell silent as Jaden slung his head low. The full curse of the bite was setting in hard now, and it took effort for him to quite literally stay alive. When Jaden lifted his head once more his eyes were hazy, and milky. Clouded over with the taint of murder. Tell-tale proof he’d be one of the walking deceased soon. He focused powerfully on his fake leg, and slid it onto the stump. Like a drunk, he fumbled with the feel of it.

  “Jaden how do you want to go?” Joel asked him quietly. "I don’t want you to turn into one of them.”

  Jaden looked up at the scarred, ragged face of his man. Joel had been wounded on the day Jaden had lost his leg, and the two men shared a strange bond. “I’d like to go for a walk down this street. If one of you were to shoot me in the back of the head while I was walking, I would appreciate it a great deal. I don’t wanna know who. Just get it done. Don’t feel like you have to bury me. I’m just crow food at this point. I’ll miss you guys.” Jaden finished his request as he stood up, hobbling heavily on the prosthetic leg they’d commandeered for him in a medical supply shop. It didn’t fit him right, it was too short, but he’d learned to use it well enough. Jaden patted Kevin and Joel on the shoulder, and shook Roger’s hand. He nodded at Michelle and slowly walked away, past the end of the humvee, and straight down the yellow line of the street.

  A single gunshot ended Jaden’s life a dozen paces later.

  The group t
ook shelter in that small town that night after they buried his body in the cold November earth. Their friend would not feed the crows.

  *****

  It fell to Angie to tell them about where they were headed. “Alright so the last time any of us was there, it was just a private school with some vans parked on a bridge to block the way in. I guess now they’ve got it fortified. Some big wall and shit. Gates and stuff on the bridge that approach it. Raef said that they had guards posted too, and if we roll in like the Army, I’d bet they’d think they were getting attacked. We need to find a way to get up the road to them, without them freaking the hell out. We might try the radio. I know they listen.” Angie shared her thoughts with the group as they stopped for the night beside a large row of businesses just off the interstate. A plumbing store and an import warehouse were among the businesses in it. Vehicles parked all around showed signs of a major gun battle, and for some reason, that made Kevin feel more comfortable about staying there.

  “We’re not even in the town yet Angie. We need to recon the area first. Once it’s safe to move through, we’ll worry about making contact with the folks at Bastion,” Kevin said as they cooked fresh venison over a fire. They’d taken a deer on the move earlier that day as they drove down the highway. The deer were rampant now, especially near the city where the living were gone, and the dead slow. The fresh meat was a welcome addition to their diet of MREs and the occasionally scrounged food from abandoned homes.

  “Why are we not moving now? It seems like with the Soul so close we should be pushing on?” Michelle asked softly.

  Kevin tried to explain it to her, “Well Michelle, you of all of us should recognize that the closer we get to the Soul, the more likely we are to run into the worst possible circumstances. Gathering information is a good thing. I think rushing in tonight without info would be asking for serious trouble.”

  Michelle nodded quietly.

  Suddenly the radio crackled to life from the inside of one of the trucks a few feet away. It was a young girl’s voice. Kevin felt it was impossibly young. “I am starting to get scared here people. There are at least a hundred fifty or hundred sixty of them at the gate now. We need to figure this out. That gate won’t last forever. Not to mention a whole shitload of them are now on this side of the water.”

  The group jumped up and walked over to the truck’s radio to listen. The concern on their faces was alarming. Another female voice responded to the first. This one was older.

  “Abby honey, we’re surrounded just as bad as you are. If we start shooting down at the crowd here, we’ll be running awfully thin on bullets if something else happens. Things aren’t getting better on their own. I don’t know what the hell is happening, but something stirred up the locals. The dead ones at least.”

  Kevin thought the older woman’s voice was husky, and attractive. He looked over at Becky with sudden feelings of guilt. It’d been a damn long time since they’d met another woman. Kevin thought it was perfectly normal to get a little rise out of a new voice. He also figured it was perfectly normal to feel like an ass about getting that rise.

  “Factory people. Can you hear this conversation? Are you able to send any kind of assistance to anywhere? Maybe a few drive-by runs at the tower to help them out?” This new voice was male. Strong, older, and clear. Kevin thought it sounded like a cop, or maybe a veteran.

  It took a minute for another voice to respond. This one was also female, but much older than both prior girl voices. It also had a faint accent that Kevin couldn’t place. Italian maybe? Spanish? “We ain’t doing well ourselves Mike. There are a few too many here for us to make it to our vehicles to get anywhere. It wouldn’t be safe. Plus we aren’t exactly an armory, you know? If we start shooting to help you, we’ll be up shit’s creek should anything bad happen here again. It’ll be six hours at least before we could even think about heading your way.”

  “Alright Lulu. We’ll get this figured out on our end somehow. I hate to piss through as much ammo as it’s gonna take though. We’ll be shooting for hours going deaf getting that goddamn bridge clear, let alone taking care of MGR,” the man voice responded with a frustrated tone.

  The group surrounding the humvee exchanged worried looks. The situation sounded bad for the new voices, and they all knew they could help. Kevin looked to Michelle, and her face told him exactly what she wanted to happen. Kevin took the handset, breathed deeply, and spoke. This was a moment they had been thinking about for a very long and very difficult time.

  “Unidentified speakers, this is Kevin Whitten, we are new to this area and are overhearing your radio traffic and are wondering if we can lend some kind of assistance. We are a combat effective group, and I also think, we might be looking for you.”

  No one answered for a good long time. When the radio silence broke it was the older man again. “Kevin this is Mike McCarthy. I’m currently the leader of the group of survivors you’re eavesdropping on. How is it exactly that you think you’re looking for us?”

  “Well Mike. I don’t know if you know him, but we’ve traveled a terrible long ways to find an old friend of mine named Adrian. He and I served together in the sandbox quite a few years ago, and as it turns out, he’s kind of important in the whole big scheme of things now. Savior of mankind if you believe that bullshit.” Kevin couldn’t believe he was saying this crap over the radio to someone he didn’t even know. It felt like lunacy.

  More silence.

  “What’s his last name?” Mike asked tentatively over the radio.

  “Adrian MacArthur Ring. He’s got three brothers and a sister I think. Becca is his little sister. She looks just like him. He’s tall, ugly, covered in tattoos. She isn’t though. Thinks he’s funny. Usually is just a rude prick.”

  The radio cackled to life half into the other man's laughter. “Well you certainly know him. I’m just wondering if you are here to say hi to him, or shoot him in the face because he’s slighted you?” Mike asked. “He’s got this magical gift for pissing people off.”

  “Well, if he slighted me I’d just punch him in the dick. But, we’ve got the skinny from two of your folks that he’s currently laid up with some kind of injury, and punching a hurt man in the dick is just low, low stuff.” Kevin heard a few of the PJs laugh behind him.

  “Who have you gotten this info from? We’ve been tight lipped on that.”

  “A couple going by the name of Raef and Angie. They caught up with us a few days ago when we left Boston after looking for my mother. They led us here so we could unite this mythical Trinity. Save mankind. Brew beer. You know, the big stuff the world needs right now.”

  Mike was thoughtful enough to laugh again while the radio was transmitting. Suddenly he got more serious. “You know we haven’t seen Raef and Angie in a damn long time. I’m not sure they’d even have that info. Are you sure you’re not blowing smoke up our ass? Do you know about the whole Trinity thing? Some of us are still on the fence about it. Seems real enough as long as you don't think too much about it, but some days it seems like it is all bullshit. I guess we’ve got enough proof, but nagging doubt is a real bitch.”

  Kevin thought hard about his answer before responding. “Raef is dead. Been dead awhile from what we were made to understand. He’s been going back and forth talking to some old guy named Gilbert. That’s how they knew. That’s how we know. Mike, I’m told I’m the Warden. And there’s a woman in our group that calls herself the Savior. We know Adrian as the Soul, and with the three of us together, that completes this Trinity thing. I tell you what Mike. We’ve come a damn far way, and if we can help you, let us know. We’ve got a lot of highly skilled trigger pullers looking to put our feet somewhere warm, and looking to score a hot meal. We’ll invade New Jersey if we have to.”

  “Fuck New Jersey,” Ethan said quietly in the background.

  “Well Kevin, we could use a lot of help here. On many levels and in many places. Adrian is hurt pretty good, he’s been down and getting worse for some time now,
and we’re getting surrounded and blocked off by more undead than we’ve seen in almost a year. It’s like vultures circling a carcass. Something is very damn wrong. Bad news bears my friend.”

  “Well we’ve got special operations medics here Mike. I’m sure with the supplies we have, and the brains they’ve got we can fix our fallen hero. We’ve also got a powerful urge to get some light machine guns into a fight somewhere, and it sounds like you’ve got yourself a target rich environment for us.”

  “Adrian says that a lot. Target rich environment. That’s funny,” Mike said.

  “Yeah well, spend a lot of time with a person, you start talking and thinking like them. Sadly, I used to be a hell of a lot smarter,” Kevin said smiling. He watched as Michelle shuffled her feet and rubbed her hands anxiously. She was excited.

  “I hear that. Alright. Let’s make a plan. If you’ve got firepower like you’re saying you’ve got, this could be a damn easy fix for us. Turn a five day problem into a five hour problem. All that’ll be left is the burning of the bodies, and the drinking of the beer. And sir, we still have some beer,” Kevin said.

  “Hey if you need another reason to let us in, we actually stole two beer trucks on the way here. Necessities, right? We’ve got pallets of just about every kind of brew you can think of. Even the expensive stuff.”

  “No shit. Alright shut up. I’m all distracted by this. Let’s make this happen.”

  *****

  The M249 SAW light machine gun is capable of firing nearly a thousand 5.56 millimeter rounds every minute. If you break that down, it means that every second the trigger is held down in full auto, 12 to 15 high velocity bullets are screaming out of the barrel at something that is likely to be dead or destroyed in short order. Normally the SAW is used to suppress an intelligent enemy that knows they need to duck when 12 to 15 bullets every second is headed their way, and that any of those bullets will abruptly change either the length of their life, or the quality of it should they survive being hit by those bullets.