The Undead Chronicles | Vol. 3 | Dead of Winter, page 35
part #3 of The Undead Chronicles Series
Harold, Phyllis, and Isabella had already collected the other firearms, ensuring that they definitely controlled the situation. Like Timmons, they appeared equally perplexed about Metzger’s reasons for wanting to battle a larger, stronger foe. Timmons wouldn’t have personally advocated for shooting all four of them, but he didn’t have a better solution. In his line of work, he occasionally dropped a bomb on a designated target without having to witness the aftermath. Perhaps Metzger framed a plan within his mind, heading toward a feasible conclusion, or he simply wanted to dish out some punishment on Adam Hewitt.
Already dressed for the weather, everyone stepped outside, barely able to see their breath in the cold because the warm front returned for the break of dawn. Even the clouds began to break, and the sun’s rays crept closer to the mountain, causing Timmons to wonder if he would be spying blood in the snowy carpet of the parking lot that much easier.
Before following the others outside, he grabbed the firearm he’d been carrying recently, stuffing it behind him with a purpose. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch Metzger get maimed or killed by Hewitt, though he did plan on winning the Manchester bet before he interfered. He expected the slap he would place on Metzger after winning would be the least of the man’s injuries, yet he wondered how Bryce remained so calm about the whole affair.
“How are you okay with this?” he asked the lieutenant commander, who had taken his side with Isabella and Nathan beside him.
“Because I know my brother and what he’s capable of when provoked.”
“That’s not much of an answer.”
“Stand back and watch, Captain Timmons,” Bryce said. “You’re about to see a clinic.”
***
Metzger shook his arms, getting them loose when he stepped outside, sizing up his opponent and testing his footing along the snowy parking lot. He found it slick beneath the mix of soft and slushy snow, knowing it might be difficult to evade punches. Taking his sword and his sidearm, Metzger set them off to the side where it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to grab them on a whim, himself included.
He understood his friend’s concern for his well-being, but there were a few things he never told Timmons about his past. Metzger didn’t pick fights, but in this case, he needed to assess Hewitt before deciding how to move forward with the four trespassers. It seemed the others got mixed up with an assertive person who took advantage of information Amber likely provided about the resort. Having food, water, electricity, and especially heat, sounded like a dream come true, and he wouldn’t blame anyone for taking a stab at such a life.
Bryce helped clarify a few things for him, and the brothers decided to drive the Prius back, despite its lack of fuel, knowing they could use the electric motors if they drove slowly, without having the engine kick in and consume fuel. Metzger decided to try this route with virtually every other vehicle in the area burned or disabled, trying desperately to recall any abandoned cars or trucks on the way back to the resort that might provide some gas.
Although they failed to find any fuel, they arrived at the resort shortly after the four young adults.
“Why did you come here?” Metzger asked Hewitt as the two squared up along the snowy parking lot.
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“You could’ve gone anywhere else,” Metzger said, ignoring the comment. “You’re just being a lazy fuck.”
“What would you know about that?”
“I taught school once, and I saw kids from broken homes who turned out just like their parents. You’re one of those kids who would’ve lived off the system in the normal world. Now you’re mooching off people who paved the way, including the people who brought you here.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” Hewitt said as he closed the distance between the two men, raising his fists.
Metzger didn’t stand perfectly still, but he didn’t assume an aggressive stance, or step forward, either.
“I know you’re a bully, and a piece of shit,” Metzger said, trying to get a rise out of the man. From the change in expression on Hewitt’s face, from mean to angered, he felt he succeeded. “You think you were built for the apocalypse, and whatever you want is yours, but that isn’t the case.”
“Well, fuck you!” Hewitt yelled before launching a right fist at Metzger, which the former teacher easily ducked.
Now he knew Hewitt to be right-hand dominant, and a hothead. Hewitt swung with his left hand, which Metzger also anticipated and moved his head back to avoid contact. He wasn’t ready to engage the man quite yet, wanting to give Hewitt every opportunity to show that a shred of humanity, or normal human behavior, resided within him.
He suspected his friends and family surrounding him wondered why he didn’t simply put a bullet in the man’s head when he possessed ample opportunity. Metzger believed in giving people second chances, and taking a human life didn’t come easy to him. Hewitt didn’t appear willing to change, and letting the man go free likely wasn’t a realistic option. Regardless, Metzger wanted to teach the young man a lesson and punish him a bit before his fate was decided.
Metzger also knew his brother and Timmons wouldn’t let anything terrible happen to him if Hewitt somehow got the upper hand.
Based on the expression on Hewitt’s face, and the various growls and grunts the man produced during his next two swings of the fist, Metzger knew his adversary was growing more agitated. Easily dodging the first punch, Metzger narrowly ducked from the second, knowing anything that connected with his face or neck might put him down. He heard gasps from his friends and family, but also Amber and her brother, as though they were genuinely concerned Hewitt might land a solid blow.
“You can do better than that,” he commented, trying to antagonize Hewitt into wearing himself down with more attacks.
“Fight me,” Hewitt spat in return. “Quit ducking me like a pussy.”
“Not so easy without a gun, is it?” Metzger asked, infuriating his adversary so the man charged him and threw a wild punch.
Metzger evaded the blow, delivering a side kick to Hewitt’s ribs before the man could react. He caught a glance of Bryce saying something to Timmons, and he suspected his brother might be informing the pilot that Metzger briefly attended some martial arts classes as a child. Sports got in the way of classes later, but he continued to practice the techniques he learned as he matured.
Delivering the kick nearly cost Metzger his balance, and in a game of evasion, he could ill afford to slip and fall to the ground. By no means a weak man, Metzger still needed to avoid taking damage from his larger opponent. Each day was a matter of life and death against the undead, and Metzger didn’t want to be nursing injuries that slowed his movements. Despite what Hewitt believed, he wasn’t dodging him to avoid contact altogether, but simply to wear him down and watch for a mistake. After all, Hewitt could slip along the snowy parking lot just as easily.
“You’re not going to let me live anyways,” Hewitt said, drawing close enough that only Metzger heard him. “So I might as well snap your neck for the satisfaction.”
“Not everyone thinks in absolutes,” Metzger replied. “It’s not always a kill or be killed world.”
“Don’t try and talk your way out of this,” Hewitt growled before throwing another punch at Metzger’s face.
Metzger blocked the blow by deflecting it to one side with an open palm.
“I’m not,” he answered, rattling off two quick punches to Hewitt’s sternum, sending the larger man staggering in reverse.
Now on the attack, Metzger caught him in the jaw with a fist while his other fist aimed at the man’s ribs, connecting for more damage. Hewitt grunted, but recovered quickly enough to grab Metzger by the throat, much as he had Timmons. Metzger anticipated such a move, however, and used both of his forearms in an upward motion, breaking the hold. He dropped to the ground, but Hewitt immediately threw a straight punch that caught Metzger beside the nose, staggering him to the brink of unconsciousness for a few seconds.
He recovered just before Hewitt would have connected with a haymaker, ducking out of the way before taking a few defensive steps back. Shaking his head, Metzger regained his senses within a few seconds and waited until Hewitt lurched forward once more before landing a kick squarely in the man’s groin, flooring him instantly. Deciding he didn’t want to take any more chances with the elements playing against him, Metzger mounted his adversary on the torso and threw several punches that bloodied the man’s nose. He kept the man’s arms pinned so there wasn’t much resistance, and despite Hewitt attempting to buck him, Metzger acted as a human paper weight. Twice, Hewitt’s head slammed back against the snowy blacktop of the parking lot, putting him in a helpless predicament.
Metzger had thoughts of putting the man out, but a throaty growl distracted him from the nearby woods as several zombies staggered forward, freed from a frozen state by the warm front, and likely lured by the illuminated main building.
Standing from his bloodied adversary, Metzger walked over to grab the short sword, spying three zombies with their vacant eyes locked on him because he stood the closest to the woods. A glance at Hewitt indicated the man was dazed, and unlikely to rise from snow-covered parking lot now dotted with blood. Drawing the sword from its sheath, Metzger dissected the heads of the first two zombies rather quickly, letting their decapitated bodies fall to the hard surface. As he began marching toward the last undead threat, however, he heard panicked yells from behind him.
“Adam, no!” he heard Amber scream.
Someone else warned of a knife at the top of his lungs, so Metzger jabbed the last zombie squarely in the forehead with the tip of the sword, killing the brain, before immediately turning with the sword as audible footsteps grew dangerously close to him.
Believing his sword could deal with any threat closing in on him, Metzger spun around, seeing a few blood droplets fly from his blade. He controlled the weapon with both hands allowing the blade to carry out its work, much like he would against the undead. Instead of cutting cleaning through a skull, however, it just barely grazed the abdomen of Hewitt, creating a thin red line where it drew blood. Considering the sword had just disposed of three zombies, coagulated blood dripped from portions of the saturated blade. The sharpened tip did its job, cutting through the man’s clothing with precision sharpness, reaching just enough flesh to do some damage.
Both Metzger and Hewitt stared at one another momentarily in shock, because both knew what a bite or infected cut meant. Metzger mentally prepared his defenses in case Hewitt attacked him, but the man simply took a few steps back, opting to study the wound with bewilderment. His right hand still held the knife that he intended to use on Metzger, having likely hidden it somewhere in his jacket, or along the back of his pants. Hewitt refused to be bested, which probably prompted him to keep a weapon hidden during the fight, but even he couldn’t defeat the infection.
He turned, looking to Amber, who simply stared at his injury, unable to muster words of sympathy, or contempt. Metzger couldn’t read her emotions, though he suspected she no longer sided with him in the least, because he took advantage of her knowledge, forcing his own desires ahead of the small group. Metzger decided they could deal with the other three young adults later, but first he needed to ensure Hewitt posed no further threat to the group. To this point, the man hadn’t said a word, clearly shocked by the fact that he wouldn’t survive the next few days.
Before Metzger could deal with the man, Hewitt darted down the hill, into the cold, where trees swallowed him.
“That was odd,” Timmons said when he approached Metzger.
“He didn’t exactly have many options, Scott. That cut was a death sentence.”
“That’s not on you,” Timmons said assuredly. “That fucker had a knife and he wasn’t planning on giving you a papercut.”
Metzger wondered if Hewitt would freeze to death before the infection set in and slowly took his life. With luck, the man might locate a gun and end his misery quickly, but Hewitt seemed like the type to cause misery and chaos as long as his body permitted.
Jillian walked over and gave him a long hug, pulling him close.
“Don’t do anything like that again,” she whispered. “You scared me to death.”
“No promises,” he replied softly.
Taking her by the hand, he walked over to the three young adults, who appeared apprehensive, frightened, and uncertain at the same time.
“I’m very disappointed in you both,” Phyllis told the twins. “You dated that man?”
Her question was aimed directly at Amber.
“He wasn’t like that before, I swear.”
“The apocalypse changed a lot of people,” Metzger reasoned.
“What are you going to do to us?” Donnie questioned.
“We should turn you loose and let the dead have you,” Harold said.
“Or take their clothes and see how they like running through the woods,” Bryce countered, obviously still raw over his earlier treatment.
Within a few seconds, all eyes fell to Metzger, and he wasn’t certain why everyone valued his opinion so much.
“They stay with us,” he decided aloud, since evidently the choice was his to make.
All three youngsters appeared ecstatic and a bit surprised at their good fortune.
“You three are going to earn your keep,” Metzger said sternly. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, because Harold and Phyllis spoke fondly of you in their stories about running the resort. Don’t step out of line, because we’ve got a good thing going here, and I will do what it takes to defend my family.”
All three nodded sheepishly.
Within a few minutes, Harold and Phyllis began making arrangements for living quarters once everyone stepped inside the main building. While Jillian appeared to have some sympathy for the three lost souls, because she fought for survival much the same, Timmons stepped over to prod Metzger for some answers.
“You sure this is wise?”
“They’re young and impressionable, Scott. We need to at least give them a chance, and we could use some experienced hands around here.”
“More mouths to feed,” Timmons lamented. “I’m not sure this is how you protect your family, Dan.”
“It’s a trial basis. They’re going to prove themselves so they can stay here with Harold and Phyllis when the rest of us move on.”
Timmons looked at him with mild bewilderment.
“This isn’t our forever home?”
“No. We’re going to have to return to the base at some point, or at least I am.”
“And why the fuck would you do that?”
Metzger framed his answer carefully.
“If Nadeau is out there, and alive, who’s to say there isn’t a second wave coming? Or what if something didn’t explode the first time around and the air is filled with this virus again?”
“It’s not your responsibility to save the world, Dan.”
“How can you possibly say that, when there are so few of us left?”
“Humans reproduce, son. It’s what we do. Maybe it’s time for you to start worrying about yourself a little more.”
“No. We’re going back to Virginia when the winter weather breaks.”
Timmons sighed through his nostrils.
“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
“No. I’m not dragging you or Bryce into this. It’s something I’ll deal with on my own.”
“I’m not letting you go back there alone. They might throw me in the brig, but there’s no way you’re stepping foot on that base by yourself.”
Metzger appreciated the sentiment, suddenly wishing he hadn’t revealed his future plans. He didn’t want his brother or Timmons to suffer because of choices he made on his own. He doubted a reasonable serum was created from his blood in the time he spent on the base, so he wanted to provide more samples for the military, even if doing so meant sacrificing his own freedom.
“We’re staying long enough to make sure these kids work out before any of us leave.”
“And your girlfriend is okay with all of this?”
“I haven’t told her yet,” Metzger replied.
Timmons chuckled.
“I want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”
“This is bigger than any one person,” Metzger stated. “Maybe they’ve found others who are immune, but if they haven’t, I may be the only person with blood they can use.”
“Again, not your problem, kid.”
“I’m not running from it, Scott. Tracking Nadeau is nothing but dead-ends, so it’s time to prepare for the worst.”
“Sounds like you’re not optimistic about the future.”
“I’m just making sure there is a future. Now let’s quit talking about it, and get some work done around here.”
Metzger hesitated before following Timmons back to the others.
“What’s wrong?” the Navy man asked with a furrowed brow when he turned around.
“I forgot something.”
“What?”
Metzger provided a sudden, yet moderate slap to the man’s right cheek, prompting a knowing smile from Timmons following the act. Everyone else looked over with mild surprise, as though they might be witnesses to a scuffle, quickly realizing the two men weren’t having an altercation, but rather a moment of horseplay.
“I had that coming,” Timmons admitted.
“Just remember that before you go teaching me your military traditions,” Metzger said with a grin.
Twenty-Seven
Mid-February
Sutton adapted to life in a community better than he expected to, but aspects of cohabitating with other people continued to elude him. Some of the neighbors got together for game nights, dinner, or the occasional church service on Sundays. Telling time and the day of the month wasn’t incredibly important to Sutton, but some people continued to cling to the old traditions as though their lives might suddenly be returned to normal someday.
