The Undead Chronicles | Vol. 3 | Dead of Winter, page 2
part #3 of The Undead Chronicles Series
“Your people learned this when?”
“We’ve done a couple of missions collecting data from known buildings where Nadeau operated. It’s been tough piecing together his days, weeks, and years leading up to the event. And the brass don’t tell me everything.”
“You could’ve left anytime you want to,” Molly noted aloud. “What made you stay with an employer that offers limited information and sends you into danger, personally, on two occasions?”
“First off,” Bryce said, his tone a bit more stern than he anticipated, “they didn’t force me to take either mission. I volunteered because I could make a difference, and because the people I work for protected and fed my family while I was at sea. They didn’t have to risk life and limb to protect our families, but they did.”
Molly stood, walked to the front window, and stared outside a moment, as though unable to settle in and feel safe in the house she once knew.
“I’m not sure they have the right to ask so much of you,” she finally said, still looking outside. “It’s unlikely Nadeau knows how to reverse any of this, and even if he does, he probably wouldn’t be in a sharing mood.”
“If there’s even a chance to return the world to normal, it’s worth putting our lives on the line.”
Both realized the heavy nature of Bryce’s words, because he certainly made the ultimate sacrifice when a zombie attempted to make him a hot snack.
“Your crew didn’t have much of a problem leaving you,” Molly said with a neutral tone. “Any chance they’ll be back this way for another mission, or to recover you?”
“I knew the risk when I drew the undead away from that plane,” Bryce replied. “They had valuable information with them, and I had to ensure Dan made it home safe. They all saw what happened, so there isn’t a chance they’re coming back here for me.”
“They could’ve waited a few more minutes and helped us clear the dead,” Molly said firmly.
“I was compromised,” Bryce said, internally wishing he could have at least said a proper goodbye to his brother, if no one else.
“Isn’t there some way to reach them?”
“Well, I had a sat phone with me, but it was broken in the tussle at the airport. The only thing I have left, for as long as I’m able, is to track Fournier.”
Bryce stood, looking at several of the family photos hanging along the main wall, as though this particular house somehow remained exempt from the chaos that took over the rest of the world those first few days. A family of five, consisting of a mother, father, two daughters, and a son, adorned several posed and vacation photographs.
“What happened to them?” he wondered aloud, considering the house gave the impression they simply packed a few belongings and left on foot.
“Who cares?” Molly asked indifferently.
Bryce realized how much he missed during those first few weeks, when people like his brother and Molly fought tooth and nail just to survive each day.
“Does it ever bother you that so many average, everyday people died because of one man?”
“Dwelling on it doesn’t better our current situation,” Molly countered. “We’ve all lost people. And Nadeau certainly didn’t act on this alone. We’ve seen evidence to the contrary already.”
“You know, you can talk about it,” Bryce offered. “My job required me to be a good listener.”
“Maybe some other time,” Molly said.
“I may not have much of that, you know.”
“I’m aware,” she said, her expression softening a bit. “Maybe we should spend what time we do have getting a few things done.”
Bryce continued to stare at the photographs momentarily, wishing for one last chance to address his family before the sickness settled in and claimed him.
Pulling out the electronic tracking device, he spent about five minutes going over the finer points of using it, how to reset it, and using the charger.
“They chose a vehicle charger,” he said, holding it up after pulling it from his gear. “They figured car batteries will still be charged for months, whereas electricity everywhere else would be sketchy.”
“Right,” Molly said. “I think I’ve got the hang of it.”
She took hold of the device, locating the red dot making progress in a westerly direction.
“Where do you suppose he’s going?” she asked.
“Hard telling. Nadeau owned property in the States and Canada, so there are a number of possibilities.”
“If it were me, I’d stay isolated, but in a centralized location where my allies could all reach me.”
“Dear God. Do you suppose he’s doing some kind of Noah’s Ark plot where he and a select few will repopulate the Earth?”
“One sure way to prevent that would be a bullet between his eyes,” Molly said.
Bryce sighed through his nose.
“Hopefully this works,” he said, holding up the device. “So many things can go wrong.”
Eventually the daylight faded, and dusk overtook the neighborhood. Both Molly and Bryce took steps to secure the house, eventually finding two revolvers and a shotgun inside the house with some ammunition. They also located clean bedding and decided to sleep on nice beds for a change. Despite living in completely different conditions, both were subjected to cots, sleeping bags, and whatever else they could find for bedding much of the time.
Bryce used a bucket of water to clean blood particles from his hair before rinsing his forearms and hands over the bathroom sink. He removed the top of his uniform and the white shirt beneath it, wondering how a zombie bit through both so quickly before he responded. Using a washcloth, he cleaned the wound, wiping his own dried blood away from the teeth marks that remained in his shoulder. Thus far, the wound didn’t appear swollen, particularly red, or infected, but Bryce knew the timeline for such things varied between each infected person. He felt fortunate he didn’t lose a chunk of flesh and tissue, though he wished his military brethren had taken a risky shot to prevent his fate.
Staring into the mirror, he questioned how much of a productive future remained for him. Dying in his hometown area felt somewhat natural, but he felt alone without Isabella, Dan, and Nathan, his son whom he’d already missed so much time with during the boy’s young life.
“How are you feeling?” Molly asked when they took a few minutes to relax, sitting in the family room with only a candle to provide lighting.
A few flashlights from the kitchen and garage could aid them, but they decided to conserve the batteries. They also ate a few of the canned goods found in the kitchen to maintain their strength.
“Surprisingly, I feel alright,” Bryce replied. “That being said, I’m sleeping with my door shut tonight just in case. I’m sure you know what to do if I pass in my sleep.”
“I do,” Molly assured him, looking away because she’d obviously put the undead down a number of times.
Once they went their separate ways for an overnight sleep, Bryce used a piece of stationery and a matching envelope he located earlier to pen a note to his wife. He hadn’t spoken to Molly about delivering any messages, because he doubted the chances of Molly ever meeting Isabella, but he wanted some closure if he was due to expire soon.
Words didn’t come easily, because he’d never truly expected to know death was coming. Military life taught him to hope for a swift death because anything else was torture, simply delaying the inevitable. He penned a few paragraphs, signed the letter, and sealed it, writing Isabella’s name across the envelope before placing it on a dresser.
Bryce fell asleep that night hoping a can of cold store-bought chili wasn’t his last meal.
Two
Daylight helped rouse Bryce from his slumber in the morning, but he felt sweat across his forehead and light wetness in the sheets beneath him. Fearing the worst, he jumped out of bed and wiped his forehead, feeling no fever. He remembered having strange dreams throughout the night, and the temperature dropped outside, causing him to sweat. His body and mind finally gave in, letting him sleep peacefully the second half of the overnight. Detecting no physical ailments other than the soreness around his right shoulder, he stepped to the mirror, seeing little change in the wound. Minor redness appeared near the bite mark, and he threw on a white undershirt and his pants before stepping into the hallway.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he commented, seeing their cache of firearms all around Molly as she sat in one of the chairs.
“I’ve been cleaning them. Their owners did a subpar job of upkeep.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t check to see if I was alive,” Bryce commented, walking into the living room for a look outside the front picture window.
“I figured if you turned, you would’ve been thumping against walls and woke me up,” Molly called, half-teasing. “Seriously, though, how do you feel?”
“Surprisingly good,” Bryce answered, seeing no activity outside, undead or otherwise.
He returned to the family room, checking on the tracking device which occupied part of a coffee table. His target continued to move west, along the northern part of the United States without crossing into Canada.
“I wonder where he’s heading,” Bryce pondered under his breath.
“If he wants isolation, Montana or Wyoming wouldn’t be a terrible destination,” Molly said, obviously hearing him. “Wide-open spaces, and the dead probably don’t much care for snow and cold.”
“We’ll know about their preferences soon enough. Winter starts early up here, probably in a month or so.”
Molly walked over to him, peeling back the shirt for a look at the wound.
“It’s as though you were bitten by a dog, and not one of those things,” she commented.
“I’m still not optimistic.”
“You should be. Most people are breaking out in a sweat and running a fever within hours. After a while, they can barely hold down food or water. Their body begins to shut down and they’re bedridden until they pass.”
“You have an unusual way of cheering people up.”
“I’m trying to tell you the sickness may pass you by, skipper.”
Bryce ignored the nickname, partly because it wasn’t accurate, and also because he didn’t share her cheerful outlook.
“I feel as though Dan told you a little bit about me,” he said instead. “What’s your story?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Not in detail. Does he even know your last name?”
Molly returned to her seat.
“I go by Pembroke now.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means there aren’t Social Security numbers these days, or computers to look people up, so I’m choosing to use my grandmother’s maiden name on my mother’s side.”
“To everyone their own. Any particular reason?”
“She was strong-willed in a time when that wasn’t the norm. In her day, she saved a lot of lives as a nurse in the military, but she also saved me and my mother from my father.”
Molly seemed to harbor a mild, general resentment towards men, but Bryce wondered if he was about to learn why.
“My father wasn’t good to my mother,” she revealed. “My grandmother took us away from all that, and put us up for over a year until the divorce could be finalized.”
“Your mother and grandmother were close?”
“Not particularly,” Molly said. “This is my paternal grandmother I’m talking about. She alienated her own son when she found out what he was doing to us.”
“That had to be tough.”
“It was an adjustment to say the least. I learned a lot from her, like how to stand up for myself, and patch the occasional wound.”
Bryce suddenly felt a bit guilty.
“I’m sorry if it feels like I’m dragging you along,” he said. “You’re free to tell me to go fuck myself and go wherever you need to.”
“It’s no trouble. Besides, my options are a bit limited at the moment. I can’t fly to Virginia, I don’t have a home to return to, and all of my allies are dead or far away from here.”
“I appreciate you stepping up to help me at the airstrip.”
“When your own military brothers didn’t lift a finger?”
“I have to believe they had their reasons.”
“They restrained your brother, or he would’ve come down that ramp.”
“I know,” Bryce said, his mind recalling the events of the previous day. “I stayed behind for his sake, so I’m glad they kept him up there.”
“One thing bothers me, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Two or three of them restrained Dan, but they let Fournier jump off that plane without batting an eyelash. What gives?”
“I’m not sure,” Bryce admitted. “They didn’t have identical orders to mine, and I doubt they knew about the tracking device. It was almost like protecting Dan was more important than bringing in that piece of shit.”
“You sure they were protecting him? That Marine received that phone call and his demeanor changed.”
Bryce recalled the moment, and how the Marine who received the call refused to share any details to the group. At first, he considered the man didn’t want to reveal military orders with two civilians nearby, but the more he thought about the moment, the more Bryce contemplated the orders might have been about him or his brother specifically.
“I’m not sure about anything right now,” Bryce admitted.
Both sat silently a moment, contemplating the past, and the immediate future.
“When do we start following Fournier for real?” Molly finally inquired.
“The device will tell us his precise location,” Bryce said, “but we need eyes on him to make certain he doesn’t pull a fast one, or end up a rotter.”
“You didn’t exactly answer my question.”
Bryce smirked.
“We pack what we can, and leave later this morning.”
***
Over the next week, the pair personally spotted Fournier three times through binoculars without giving away their position. He continued west, obviously possessing a destination he’d committed to memory, possibly given to him by the gatekeepers in Canada where he stopped for a short time before the military caught up with him.
He switched vehicles several times, and it appeared he changed shirts, but Bryce guessed he either wore the same pants, or kept the first pair with him during his travels because the tracker remained with him. Clean pants or blue jeans that fit well weren’t easy to come by in the apocalypse, and Fournier made at least as many stops as the duo tracking him.
Like the man they pursued, Bryce and Molly stopped to rummage through houses and apartments for food and supplies, changed vehicles a few different times, and even found changes of clothes. Bryce hadn’t worn civilian clothes on a regular basis in years, so the concept felt foreign to him at first.
Without the means to shave, Bryce felt an itchy beard coming in, and most of his face felt unaccustomed to having hair. During his years in the Navy, he remained well-groomed, getting weekly haircuts and keeping his mustache neatly trimmed. For the first time, Bryce found himself away from the blanket of the military, and its rules and regulations.
He grew to believe some kind of miracle spared him from joining the ranks of the undead as his wound began to heal, rather than infect him from within. Bryce wanted to believe the wound wasn’t deep enough to infect him, or Molly’s bottled water washed away any infection before it entered his bloodstream, but Molly reached a different conclusion.
She insisted Bryce, and possibly his brother, were somehow immune to the virus that wiped out much of the world’s population. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to believe it, but the more he thought about the way the military whisked his brother back to Buffalo, the more he began to question the circumstances. Either way, he didn’t want to receive another bite to test Molly’s theory.
“He must have received some information from that stop in Canada,” Molly insisted as the pair drove through a town along the northeast portion of Ohio.
Drives that once took hours, now took days due to gridlock, hiding from the undead, stopping to syphon gas, locating food, or swapping vehicles. Being confined to a vehicle for hours on end left time for discussions, including why they were tracking Fournier if the government could do so themselves, and what they would do if they located the secret lair where Nadeau presumably hid from the world.
Bryce shared Molly’s fear that Fournier might discover the tracker or leave his pants behind, leaving them as the only real means to follow the man to his destination. If they discovered the location, Bryce wasn’t certain how he’d communicate with anyone in the military unless he discovered a sat phone or a reasonably quick way to travel to Virginia. Part of him wanted to give up the search and return to the base to reunite with his wife, son, and brother, but a sense of duty, and the memory of his parents, drove him forward.
“Where are we?” Molly asked when they stepped from their current car, a black Chevy Spark, as dark clouds rolled overhead.
A threat of storms reared its ugly head some miles back, but the pair was forced to drive into the heart of the severe weather. Bryce knew from the spattering rain they were about to get drenched, so he parked in front of a row of houses that offered shelter.
And possibly danger.
“I don’t even remember this place’s name,” Bryce said as they made their way toward a row of four houses.
Possibly not even appearing in their Atlas, the town possessed little of interest to the pair. Without so much as a fire station or town hall, it appeared rather bland. On the plus side, Bryce figured the undead weren’t much of a threat in such an unpopulated area.
