The Undead Chronicles | Vol. 3 | Dead of Winter, page 33
part #3 of The Undead Chronicles Series
“No,” Metzger said. “I need you to stay here and keep watch over everyone. I could be down there until at least tomorrow if the weather gets bad.”
“You need backup.”
“I need someone to watch over my nephew. Amber has been fitting in, so far, but if anyone comes for her, or strangers show up, this place needs to be defended.”
“Fine,” Timmons agreed. “Isabella will be happy to hear her husband is back.”
“You can’t tell her,” Metzger said.
“Why not?” Timmons countered, openly surprised.
“Look, I don’t want them freaked out. Just tell them I went on a supply run early in the morning when they wake up.”
“Dan, you’ve got me worried. What aren’t you telling me?”
Metzger paused, drawing a deep breath.
“I’m not entirely sure what I’m getting into, but I’ll handle it. Please, just keep this place secure until I get back.”
“Sure,” Timmons conceded. “Just make sure you get back here in one piece.”
“I plan on it.”
Metzger went on supply runs whenever possible, but he never left for more than half a day. With the weather in question, and unknown strangers in the mix, he wasn’t sure how long extracting his brother from Lake Placid might take.
He lingered momentarily, as though he and Timmons both knew something felt different, dangerous perhaps, regarding what should have been a simple run to the valley below. Metzger finally gave a nod and ducked out the door, returning to his own cabin just long enough to grab some spare clothes for his brother. He stuffed them into a spare duffel bag he located during one of their searches, finding the key fob for the gray Prius.
Fortunately, the car remained parked in the primary parking lot, away from the cabins, allowing him to escape without detection because the car ran silently when the electric motors powered it. Getting up to speed caused the engine to kick in when driving, but he planned on being far enough away by then that no one would hear. Metzger crossed the parking lot, finding the snow crunchy on top, and slushy underneath. He kicked the white chunks off his feet before stepping into the vehicle.
From the parking lot, only the two closest cabins were visible, and he pictured Timmons looking out the window, like a concerned parent, wishing him a safe trip.
Metzger appreciated the man’s protective nature, but he didn’t know that he shared the captain’s outlook on his future. Like everyone else, Metzger simply wanted to survive, not be a leader of the masses. He planned on picking up the person he considered a perfect candidate for a leadership position, though he wondered how his brother ended up stripped of every belonging except for a sat phone. Pushing the ignition button, Metzger didn’t hear a sound from the car as the dashboard lights illuminated the interior. He left the radio on, often scanning for channels when he traveled, only to hear static across the spectrum. The chances of hearing anything on the radio felt like a longshot, mostly because the Adirondacks had very few listening options in the first place.
Driving carefully in the snow, Metzger reached what he considered the valley in about twenty minutes, finding an odd sight when he turned to the right. By now he knew the area reasonably well, and planned on reaching Lake Placid without the use of a map, but a red, four-door car sat halfway on the road, and partly tipped into a ditch. Metzger drew to a stop, examining the vehicle momentarily, trying to decipher how long it might have rested there, and what happened to its occupants.
Opening the door, he stepped from the Prius, walking over to the car. He looked for tracks, but the recently melted snow created a glistening white path along the roads and the woods alike. For the most part, the undead population around the mountains remained low at all times, so he doubted the travelers were attacked. Even so, he questioned where the people who last occupied the car might have gone.
He felt compassion for anyone having to trek in the Adirondack elements, but he selfishly hoped they didn’t head up the mountain toward the resort. Taking one last look at the car, he stepped into the Prius and continued on his way to find Bryce.
About a mile down the road, he found a member of the undead staggering in the center of the snow-covered path. He stopped the car, grabbing his sword as he stepped out, prepared to see if the deceased person might be related to the red car. As he shut the Prius door, the dead woman turned to confront him, and Metzger could tell she recently passed away. He didn’t see trauma along her body, but she didn’t have winter gear on, meaning she might have run out of fuel and died shortly thereafter. Her skin, barely paler than a living person’s during the winter months, let him know she hadn’t expired by more than a week.
Perhaps the cold prevented her from wandering very far, because freezing temperatures froze muscles and joints inside the dead, keeping them from actively walking.
Metzger hated the idea of someone freezing to death so close to safety, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once, finding people to save. He drew closer to the woman, and as she growled at him, slowly raising a frigid arm to grab at his coat collar, Metzger stuck the sharp end of the sword into her forehead, followed by the brain, bringing the ordeal to a close.
He dragged the body to the ditch beside the road, ensuring no one struck it with a vehicle. His act was partly out of respect for the dead, and also to protect future travelers. Returning to the Prius, he gave a lengthy stare at the woman’s body, praying he would never have to put down someone he cared about.
***
Nearly an hour later, he approached the Lake Placid area, finding the town rather tranquil, at least along the main drag. He prowled the streets, searching for evidence of his brother, or a large gathering of the undead, and after about ten minutes, he located a charred truck and a few dozen zombies lingering in the area.
“Oh, Bryce, what have to gotten yourself into?” he questioned aloud as he parked a safe distance from the undead horde.
Stepping from the car, he grabbed his sword and went to work immediately, taking a combination of precision and baseball swings at the skulls of his adversaries, cutting them all in half. In the cold, they appeared slow to advance, giving him an opportunity to catch his breath after dealing with the first dozen. He considered the easier method of using a gun on the remainder of the dead, but he didn’t know how long he and Bryce needed before heading back to the resort.
Huffing a moment, Metzger leaned against the Prius, smelling burnt flesh from where the undead drew too close to the truck while it was on fire. Some of them possessed obvious burn marks, a few sporting clothes burned onto portions of their body where they were completely engulfed by flames. Metzger couldn’t fathom how the undead felt nothing, yet they could see, smell, and hear just fine, if not better than the living. It stood to reason that some of their senses were dulled in death, leaving the others to be enhanced.
Being perpetually surrounded by snow and frigid weather kept Metzger from being in top condition like he was when he constantly battled zombies and occasionally ran from them. He took notice of smoke rising from the chimney of the house in front of him. Bryce likely didn’t come out to assist him because it sounded like he didn’t possess any usable clothing. A distraction might have been nice, Metzger thought, but he began to catch his second wind and raised the sword to deal with the last of the undead stumbling in his direction.
A few fell on their faces, tripping in the snow, giving him a free pass to stab them in their skulls and end their misery. The rest, he disabled by slicing through their skulls, and even stabbing a few of them in their mouths when they drew close and hissed at him.
With six or seven undead still coming at him, Metzger realized several more in the distance had picked up on the noise and started heading his way. Giving a sigh, he cleanly severed one more head and darted to the house before completely draining his stamina. He rapped twice on the door, and opened it, finding his brother inside, shivering beside the fireplace.
“I’m glad to see you,” Bryce commented between chattering teeth.
Metzger pulled his brother into a tight hug, making certain he didn’t knock the blanket loose from Bryce’s shoulders. He held the hug a few seconds longer than normal, because he remembered a time when he thought he’d never see his older brother again.
“Likewise,” he replied, “but you’re going to have to tiptoe through the snow, because I left your bag of clothes in the car.”
“What kept you?” Bryce kidded, knowing the obstacles his brother battled to reach him.
“Well, you didn’t exaggerate about the party you threw out front,” Metzger replied. “The bad news is there’s still a handful left for us to avoid or kill.”
“I can dig up a steak knife,” Bryce offered.
“I’ll be fine. Just follow my lead and we’ll be inside a nice, warm car in less than a minute.”
Metzger noticed half a dozen more entering the yard, and his heart sank because he didn’t want to put his brother at risk.
“Let’s play this smart,” he told Bryce, who looked out the front window beside him. “I can use the car and lead them away.”
“What if the assholes who left me stranded and naked are still around?”
“Something tells me they aren’t. I didn’t see anything unusual when I was driving around looking for this place.”
Metzger stole another glance outside, finding the undead begin to approach the house, seeing the flicker of the dying fire through the open curtains.
“Does this place have a back door?” he asked.
“It’s all covered up with boxes and weight-lifting equipment. They didn’t want anyone getting inside.”
Metzger groaned, wishing good luck would follow him more often.
“Look, give me ten minutes and I’ll lead them away. I’ll come back for you, you’ll get dressed, and we’ll surprise everyone at the resort. One big, happy ending.”
Bryce answered with a doubtful expression.
“I’ll be right back,” Metzger promised.
“Fine,” Bryce conceded.
Holding his sword in his right hand, Metzger pushed his way out the front door, knocking the three zombies pressed against it to the ground. Another made an attempt to bite at his neck and shoulder area, but Metzger shoved it back and cleanly lopped off the top of its skull the way a skilled gardener trims a shrub. With a clear path to the Prius, Metzger headed toward the car with several zombies stalking him. He managed to start the vehicle and drive away, debating whether or not to honk the horn.
While the noise would provide incentive for the undead to follow him, it might alert survivors to his presence, and he didn’t need additional hurdles to clear before getting his brother up the mountain. He also didn’t want to risk Bryce thinking he was honking for him to come outside into a dangerous situation. Metzger played it safe and drove slowly with the undead following him like marchers in a parade that didn’t keep their balance in the snow very well.
Only the sound of the defroster kept him company as he slowly drove into the downtown area of Lake Placid. Metzger cautiously looked around for signs of trouble, namely survivors, finding no artificial lighting, vehicles, or people walking along the slick sidewalks.
Although he didn’t spot any of those signs, he did notice numerous flat tires accompanying every vehicle he passed. These people, whoever they were, didn’t want Bryce following them. Metzger couldn’t help but wonder if they were aligned with the kids he and Timmons encountered, but these new survivors appeared very tactical, organized, and surprisingly compassionate because they could have killed Bryce.
Thoughts of making another turn and trying to leave the dead behind crossed his mind, but a red light appeared on the dashboard, immediately concerning Metzger. As impossible as it seemed, at least in his mind, the Prius informed him it was running low on fuel.
“Shit,” he muttered, knowing he needed to syphon gas from another vehicle.
Between the swarm of undead still following him, the dark of night, and the dropping temperatures, he decided the return trip to the resort needed to wait until morning. Stopping the car, he stepped out, sword in hand, and dealt with a few of his pursuers to thin their numbers. By attacking them, he also drew the attention of any stragglers.
Already worn down, Metzger didn’t feel like dealing with more of them, so he returned to the car and started down the block. Ensured they followed him along his most recent right turn, Metzger turned right again and headed back to the house. Because the car made so little noise, he hoped most of them lost track of him and simply wandered the streets of Lake Placid aimlessly.
He pulled up to the house, finding no undead in the immediate area, a few minutes later. Grabbing his weapons and the duffel bag with clothes, he stepped from the Prius and approached the house. Bryce anxiously opened the door, obviously ready to head to the resort, still cocooned within the blanket.
“Hold your horses,” Metzger said, handing his brother the bag.
“What’s wrong?”
“The car is on empty.”
“Then we get some gas from one of these other vehicles.”
“Or we stay the night and syphon gas when we can see and we don’t freeze our dicks off.”
Bryce immediately expressed his displeasure about the circumstances.
“I can get dressed and we can get gas right now.”
“The dead aren’t far away, Bryce. Any noise brings them right back here. We take the night, we rest up here, where it’s warm, and we deal with our issues in the morning.”
“And what if those people come back and torch the car? Then we’re stranded.”
“You said it yourself that they had someplace to be. Seems doubtful they’re going to linger in Lake Placid.”
“We’re immune to the dead.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to get bitten,” Metzger countered. “And we aren’t immune to the cold, or bullets. We shelter in place and we hit the road at first light.”
Bryce still appeared unhappy, but he dropped the blanket, beginning to dress himself with the selections from the bag.
“I get it,” Metzger said. “I want to get back, too, but playing it safe guarantees that you get back to Izzy and Nate, and I get back to Jillian.”
Bryce smiled.
“You found her?”
Metzger realized he and his brother had a number of things to catch up on when time permitted.
“They were coming to get me when your wife broke me out of the base.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think the military is done searching for either of us.”
“It’s just a matter of time before they come sniffing around here,” Metzger reasoned aloud.
Bryce appeared deeply concerned.
“If they talk to the people I worked with, they’ll get answers,” he said, drawing a bit closer to the fire, despite being fully dressed and having a blanket. “They’ll also have some of my personal information from the databases once they have their system fully functional again.”
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running, or looking over my shoulder,” Metzger said.
“Me either. Believe me, we’ll get this settled one way or another.”
“I hope you have a plan.”
Bryce gave a reassuring smile.
“Little brother, I always have more than one plan.”
Twenty-Five
Timmons didn’t sleep particularly well in the overnight, knowing Metzger traveled down the mountain to get his brother. Heading to any of the nearby towns wouldn’t have been easy during the cold months prior to the apocalypse, but untreated snow and ice left the roads treacherous. He felt a bit of relief that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else at the resort yet. Daylight was often slow to reach the resort through the trees, and cloud cover ensured that the impending illumination remained almost an hour away.
Getting dressed, he decided to make some coffee in the main building, and prep some breakfast items before the others joined him. Their routine tended to have them in bed at dark, and up around dawn, with so little to do. Everyone made certain to keep all lighting turned off in the main building, and Timmons often worked by flashlight or candlelight before the sun peeked over the trees. With so much glass in the building, any kind of natural illumination helped him navigate his way through the building’s interior.
Already wearing warm gear, including duck boots, Timmons threw on a winter coat and opened his cabin door to find something unsettling in the distance.
Like a beacon in the night, the main building appeared to have every single light turned on, probably causing it to be seen for miles. Only Timmons knew Metzger left, potentially bringing his brother back with him, and he resisted the urge to turn on any lights to lead his friend back to the resort. He also couldn’t picture his friend returning, and performing such a careless act, even if everyone else awoke to greet him there.
Shutting his door, the pilot grabbed a Smith & Wesson stainless steel 10 millimeter semi-automatic that he sometimes carried. Finding such an odd size in ammunition wasn’t usually difficult, because most survivors tended to ignore it when it didn’t fit their firearms. He opened the door once again, stepping outside into the brisk air.
His cabin was behind several others along the two rows, but the main building easily caught his attention. He wondered how no one else noticed, unless their window coverings shielded the light from entering their cabins. Just enough starlight appeared to light his way, allowing him to look at the ground for footprints, and ahead for any strange vehicles or people. Timmons wanted to believe someone made an honest mistake, but after months of living at the resort, everyone there knew better, including the youngest member of the group.
When he approached the entrance everyone tended to use, he found the area cleared of snow and slush, indicating someone had done some morning shoveling. Feeling more confused than before, he assumed one of his fellow residents shoveled the area near the door as a courtesy, forgetting to turn off the lights afterwards. Timmons opened the door, holding his firearm in a ready position as he slowly crossed the threshold. A realization suddenly reached his mind that someone might have shoveled the area to cover up footprints.
