The Undead Chronicles | Vol. 3 | Dead of Winter, page 29
part #3 of The Undead Chronicles Series
“Find them,” she said, coughing once more, violently this time, before her head fell back and her eyes remained open, staring beyond Bryce’s left shoulder.
Unable to move for several seconds, Bryce remained on his knees, vigilantly at her side, feeling guilty if he left her too soon. No human eyes viewed his actions, yet he felt that Molly deserved better than dying on a cold floor, being left in a rest stop without a proper burial. Bryce couldn’t help his parents, being thousands of miles away in foreign waters, but he felt obligated to protect Molly, or at least share the responsibility of keeping them both safe.
Instead, the target on his back got her killed.
Finally letting go of her hand, Bryce cupped his face in his hands, fighting back tears he needed to cry. He felt ashamed, though she wasn’t a ward in his care like so many green sailors on his ship in the Navy. Fierce and capable until the very end, she saved him several times over, and Bryce knew why his brother respected the woman so much. Even so, Bryce questioned if he could keep his own family safe when the military kept sending personnel to track him down.
He waited a few minutes until his nerves began to settle. When the wind died down momentarily, he heard no wails from outside, and he couldn’t even hear the zombie feasting on the man who attacked him a few minutes earlier. Bryce no longer wanted to stay inside, fearing the awful memories made here more than the cold and wind outside. He began gathering his belongings, along with the AR-15, stuffing everything useful into his pack for travel.
With his nerves collected, he knelt beside Molly, brushed his fingers over her eyes to close them, and drew the knife from his side. Without looking directly at his work, he slid the blade into the back of her skull, along the softer lower portion. Assured he reached the brain so she couldn’t possibly reanimate, Bryce stood, sniffling back some mucus in his nose. He wiped the knife along her pants, cleaning the blood before setting it aside. Taking her head in both of his hands, he gently kissed her on the forehead, thankful she tagged along instead of striking out on her own.
Already bundled up for the cold, he shoved the door open, finding the zombie still focused on devouring the victim gifted to him. Bryce forcefully jabbed the zombie in the skull, putting it down before dropping to his knees to ensure the man sent for him didn’t return for a second life as well.
Bryce searched the man’s pockets, finding an Army identification, which he pocketed, along with the man’s dog tags. Finding a few semitransparent shotgun shells in the man’s pockets, Bryce determined they were the beanbag variety that police used to subdue unruly suspects. Obviously, they were meant for him, and for some reason the soldier didn’t reload the shotgun.
He didn’t know why the man felt compelled to shoot Molly, unless he wanted to make certain nothing interfered with him claiming Bryce as a prize. He considered the move a complete waste, because two people wound up dead. Bryce didn’t want to be a liability, nor did he want the military to use him as an experiment for a vaccine. He didn’t know what these military kids being sent for him were told, but he knew he needed to retrieve his family before anyone else located them.
Looking around, he saw the two bodies beside him already covered in a light blanket of snow. Visibility hadn’t improved, but he felt determined to head east and retrieve his family. He wasn’t certain what his next move was after that, but he didn’t plan on going anywhere near military bases. If the military truly knew where his family was staying, he couldn’t endanger them, or his in-laws, but he needed to find somewhere safe for their group to wait out the winter.
Beginning to walk along the interstate, Bryce hadn’t gotten far when he felt certain he heard the sound of a running vehicle. Cautiously, he tracked the noise, weaving through stalled vehicles and ducking down to avoid detection. He finally spotted a Humvee in the distance, mostly clear of snow, sitting in the middle of the road. Bryce waited a few minutes before daring to approach it, thinking the dead soldier might have an accomplice, but Bryce finally discovered the vehicle was empty, and left running by the man as though he had decided to check out the rest area and discovered Molly and Bryce by accident.
Bryce opened the door, giving one last look around before examining the seats inside, finding them empty. He then slid inside, glad to be out of the cold, though he discovered the heater only provided warm air at best, because they were built with stock heating units. Sitting back, he got comfortable in the seat, trying to keep his thoughts from returning to the attack. He needed to focus, but his mind kept shifting to the loss of a close friend, and he began to understand the pain his brother endured during his travels.
“Let’s hope you have some fuel,” Bryce muttered before daring to steal a glance at the dashboard.
Twenty-One
Three Days Later
“That’s a hell of a lot of snow,” Timmons said, looking out the window of the main building at the resort.
Even in the late morning, the sky appeared dark and dreary without any sign of letting up on precipitation.
“I’ve seen worse,” Metzger said, taking his side as pasty flakes landed on the glass and melted just as quickly.
“You can’t go out in this,” Timmons insisted.
“I don’t have much choice,” Metzger said. “We’re running out of supplies, and our last few runs didn’t exactly go as planned.”
Some of the locations on the marked map Harold provided him were already picked clean, and in one case, the undead surrounded the area. Metzger knew how to deal with a fair number of zombies, but he couldn’t handle a hundred at a time without a game plan. The property in question was an elementary school more than twenty miles from their location in Lake George, which housed some tourist attractions and a theme park Metzger recalled attending before his teenage years.
“You didn’t need to do that Christmas run the way you did,” Timmons said, referring to a particular trip Metzger took to find some holiday cheer for everyone at the resort.
“It worked, didn’t it? Besides, I wasn’t about to let my nephew go without anything for Christmas.”
“That boy will be missing a lot more than presents in the future.”
“We all needed a little cheering up, Scott. Nathan misses his dad.”
Metzger missed his brother as well, and grew concerned with each passing day, particularly since Bryce knew where to find them.
He made a trip into one of the nearby small towns, finding small gifts for everyone at the resort around the Christmas holiday. Isabella’s parents put up decorations and a nine-foot tree with colorful lights in the main building. Metzger even located wrapping paper and tape at a thrift shop he looted during one of the trips, finding a few food items and supplies as well.
To say Nathan’s eyes lit up when he opened up the toys his uncle found for him would certainly be an overstatement, but the boy’s thoughts were on the holiday for a day, and not the fact that he hadn’t seen his father in months.
Metzger heard the dryer running in the nearby laundry room, which felt like a regular occurrence, sometimes lulling him into a false sense of normality.
“I don’t like the idea of you making this trip alone,” Timmons told him with a serious, concerned expression.
“It’ll be quick and easy.”
“None of these trips have been quick and easy.”
“We just need a few things to tide us over until the weather breaks. The dead won’t be an issue with the freezing weather.”
“I’m not worried about the dead. Those kids we saw in the fall have a camp somewhere. They’ve been raiding the same places as us, and it’s only a matter of time before we find them or their friends.”
Staring at the accumulation of nearly six inches, Metzger worried slightly about getting stuck, but his previous trips helped him locate some vehicles capable of maneuvering through the snow.
“Those kids aren’t a threat, even after the way you treated them.”
“How exactly did I treat them?” Timmons asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Like they were murderous criminals.”
“That sounds like a stretch.”
Metzger shook his head.
“Let’s just say kid gloves are not in your arsenal, Scott.”
“Kids, adults, the infected, whatever, you shouldn’t be going out there alone.”
Metzger stared out the window a few seconds longer, considering the entire front of the building was comprised of glass and a few structural elements. He wondered how the building remained reasonably warm with so much glass, which certainly wasn’t a good insulator.
“I dare say I won’t be traveling today,” Metzger decided aloud. “It’s coming down a little too thick out there.”
Jillian entered through the main door, located on the parking lot side of the building, spying the two men talking in the foyer. She immediately walked over and planted a kiss on Metzger’s lips, which he enjoyed, taking a few seconds to savor the taste of whatever mouthwash she chose to use that morning. Enjoyable tastes and smells often eluded survivors of the apocalypse, so they savored them whenever possible.
“I think I liked it better when you two were keeping things secret,” Timmons said, fighting to roll his eyes at them.
“Methinks flyboy is jealous,” Jillian said with a grin when her lips parted from Metzger’s.
Jillian walked behind the check-in counter where a refrigerator was located in a small room, taking a bottled water from the appliance.
“You two have a lot to learn about relationships,” Timmons commented when she returned.
Instead of taking the bait and simply asking for an elaboration, Jillian chose a different path.
“Did you have one of those nicknames pilots always have in the movies?”
“They’re called call signs,” Timmons answered somewhat testily.
“Did they call you Salty Dog, or Silver Bolt maybe?”
Timmons scowled at the line of questioning, because he disliked ribbing about his age. He didn’t consider himself that old, because he felt incredibly fit, but the median age changed drastically when the world fell to the dead.
“You’re going to think it’s funny when you need this pilot to fly you somewhere and he doesn’t comply.”
Metzger didn’t particularly need his girlfriend and mentor bickering in front of him, but the winter caused everyone to go stir crazy inside the limited space the resort offered.
“Come on now, Jillian,” he said, taking her hand. “Leave Gray Goose alone.”
Timmons shook his head.
“Keep it up, you two. You really should respect your-”
“Elders?” Metzger finished for the pilot.
“You two are going to get there someday,” Timmons said, pointing his finger back and forth between Metzger and Jillian. “I just hope your kids give you shit about being old each and every day.”
His mention of children caused Metzger and Jillian to look at one another with odd expressions, because neither had ever mentioned their desires for the future. The apocalypse tended to leave them with dreams and plans that didn’t extend past a week or two.
“You’re going to have kids,” Timmons assured them. “The world is going to run out of rubbers someday, and when you have little ones running around, guess who isn’t going to babysit?”
“Come on,” Jillian said, continuing to tease Timmons. “They’re going to want to spend time with Grandpa Scott.”
“Not funny,” Timmons replied seriously.
Jillian noticed something out the mammoth front glass, walking toward the surface with undivided attention.
“Is that a person out there?” she questioned almost to herself.
All three of them rushed to the glass, like dogs thinking their owner was home, to find a young woman struggling up the hill that led to the parking lot. She stumbled and fell about fifty feet from them, and all three sensed her urgency as they backed away from the glass.
“I’ll get Phyllis and Harold,” Timmons said, prepared to head to the cabins as Jillian and Metzger went out the main door to assist the woman.
Dashing down the snowy drive to her side, they helped her to her feet, noticing immediately her face was pink from the cold, and several cuts and bruises covered her face and her hands.
“Come on,” Jillian urged her as she and Metzger each took an arm to support the woman as they walked to the main building.
Once inside, they sat her down at one of the chairs inside the old lounge, letting her catch her breath and get warm.
“Are you injured?” Metzger inquired.
“Nothing too bad,” the young woman answered.
Wearing some basic winter gear that appeared mostly dark gray or black, the woman wore a winter hat that barely covered half her ears, and gloves appearing tattered and torn from her trek through the woods.
“How did you get here?” Jillian asked.
Harold and Phyllis walked into the room, with Timmons directly behind them.
“Amber?” Phyllis inquired, drawing surprised stares from everyone except Harold.
Phyllis weaved her way around everyone else to kneel beside the exhausted woman. She reached up, feeling her way around Amber’s forehead, face, and neck, checking for injuries or other issues.
“She used to work here,” Harold explained to everyone else in the room, keeping his voice just above a whisper.
“What happened to you, dear?” Phyllis asked of their new arrival. “We figured you and your brother made it home once the apocalypse hit.”
“We did,” Amber said, sounding completely spent. “It’s such a long story.”
“It’s okay, dear. Get warm, and we’ll fix you something to eat. You must be starved.”
Metzger motioned for Harold to speak to him away from the others.
“Where is she from?”
“Their parents lived an hour from Pittsburgh,” Harold answered. “When things went bad, she and her brother said they were heading home to check on their folks.”
“How do you know them, exactly?”
“They worked here for an internship last spring.”
Although he didn’t say anything, Metzger suspected Amber and her brother knew about the amenities at the resort, and how a person might live off the land, yet enjoy a small sense of luxury. A single person traveling from Pennsylvania to the Adirondacks felt out of place to him. Aside from the military base, he had yet to personally find a residence that resembled pre-apocalyptic conditions.
“You’re thinking something,” Harold commented with just a trace of a smirk on his lips.
“We really need to hear her story over a hot meal, Harold.”
Timmons pulled Metzger aside next, the concern written on his face.
“This doesn’t add up,” the pilot said.
“I know. I want to hear what she has to say, then I might take a drive down the mountain.”
“You just canceled your supply trip. Heading downhill for a different purpose doesn’t make it safer. Or easier.”
Timmons paced the floor a moment, just out of sight from everyone else.
“Personally, I wouldn’t travel this far hoping this place was still standing and functional,” he said, referring to Amber’s journey.
Metzger tended to agree. After dealing with numerous threats, he suspected Amber might have friends lurking nearby if she was lying. He didn’t want to suspect the worst of someone Phyllis and Harold knew personally, so he kept his notions to himself.
“Keep quiet until we hear her out,” he said to Timmons. “We can’t alienate our hosts.”
Isabella and Nathan walked in through the rear entrance, and Metzger noticed the confusion on Isabella’s face.
“We have a guest,” he told her as she peered into the former lounge area.
“Who the hell hikes up here?” Isabella questioned.
“That’s what we thought,” Timmons said before biting his bottom lip in thought.
“What?” Metzger asked, curious what the captain was contemplating.
“We can’t possibly secure this whole place against multiple people.”
“You boys are getting a little ahead of yourselves,” Isabella said. “I’d like to hear what she has to say before we go boarding up windows and doors.”
Metzger looked to his nephew, who appeared rather excited at the prospect of another person joining their group. Nathan grew bored without other children around, and so little to do at the resort. Metzger refused to take his nephew with him on supply runs, though he often managed to find books, games, and other activities for Nathan in the towns. Nathan kept trying to get a closer look at their new guest, but Isabella held him back protectively.
Jillian left Amber’s side, joining Metzger and the others in the adjacent room.
“What do you think?” Metzger inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Jillian replied. “But I think we should get to cooking a warm meal.”
“Any particular reason?”
“The sooner we all sit down, the sooner we get answers,” Jillian said before heading for the kitchen to see what ingredients and supplies they possessed to create a decent lunch.
“I think I love her,” Metzger told Timmons once she walked away.
“If you’re not sure, you’re probably thinking with your dick,” Timmons responded.
“I meant it facetiously.”
Timmons gave a knowing grin.
“Sure you did, son. Sure you did.”
***
While Jillian prepared a lunch for the group, because she wanted the group present when Amber told her tale, Phyllis made the young woman a cup of hot chocolate to keep her warm.
Jillian cooked some Salisbury steaks with au gratin potatoes from a box, setting a table inside the main building for everyone. When they sat down as a collective, Metzger studied Amber, who had removed her wet winter clothing, exchanging the garments for dry sweat pants and a sweater that Phyllis managed to locate for her.
