The Undead Chronicles | Vol. 3 | Dead of Winter, page 42
part #3 of The Undead Chronicles Series
“Here’s the knife,” Hewitt said, kicking a large knife towards Metzger that stopped a few inches short of his sock feet.
Metzger knelt down, pulling Hannah by the left foot from behind the bar so he could evaluate her. She didn’t have any outward wounds, but she wasn’t conscious, or responsive, during the few seconds required to remove her from immediate danger.
“I’m not sure if she’s alive,” Hewitt said indifferently, without inflection in his tone.
“Why would you do this?” Metzger said, trying to feel for a pulse and finding none.
Hannah’s neck and his fingers both felt cold because they were exposed to the frigid temperatures of the lodge, just like Metzger’s appendages. He was about to try again for a pulse, and potentially begin CPR, when Hewitt spoke.
“She came down here and tried to stab me with a knife,” he said evenly. “I managed to grab her neck and squeeze.”
Metzger saw red marks along Hannah’s neck, even in the dim lighting, and he began to doubt his ability to breathe life into her. He bent down over her mouth and nose, trying to see if he felt any breath against his cheek, and he did indeed feel a little warmth against his skin, so he delayed starting CPR.
“I pretended she was your girlfriend as I squeezed the life out of her,” Hewitt said, trying to get a rise from Metzger. “And I appreciate this thin-ass blanket you provided to keep me from dying in this wooden freezer.”
Metzger refused to let Hewitt agitate him. Assured Hannah was safely away from the man, he slumped his back against the bar, safely away from the shackled Hewitt. Unsure if Hannah was taking her last breath, or simply unconscious, he decided to take a moment and see what happened. Even at the resort where his brother’s in-laws possessed basic medical supplies, there wasn’t equipment enough to help anyone with serious injuries or health issues.
“I really can’t stand you,” he said, addressing Hewitt without looking around the corner at the man.
“Oh, the feeling is mutual. Believe me.”
Metzger placed a hand on Hannah’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall from her chest, leaving him a bit more reassured she was simply unconscious.
“I know you can’t kill me, for whatever reason,” Hewitt said, his words piercing Metzger, because Metzger no longer wanted to hear the man.
If removing his vocal cords were an option, he might consider the procedure.
“I’m welcoming the military,” Hewitt continued. “Free meals and safety behind secured fences sounds awfully good.”
“Sure you can resist the urge to murder people for no reason?”
“I had my reasons,” Hewitt retorted, still not raising his voice or speaking with any emotion. “Survival of the fittest, and you can see who’s still breathing.”
Metzger wasn’t thrilled about Hewitt’s sudden acceptance of his future, but the man cared about his own survival above all else.
“She’s alive, you know,” Metzger countered in their verbal game of chess, referring to Hannah, who showed more signs of life with a light moan and movement in her fingers.
“That’s fine,” Hewitt said, as casually as he might place a restaurant lunch order.
Hannah began to regain consciousness, and Metzger helped her to her feet once she blinked a few times, prepared to help her upstairs.
“I might get bored at the base,” Hewitt added, as though needing to get in the last word. “Maybe I’ll decide to come look you up someday.”
“Doubtful,” Metzger replied, feeling reasonably assured the military wouldn’t let him leave their complex once they had a new guinea pig and tested his blood.
Metzger assisted Hannah to the stairway, glad she hadn’t gotten killed for doing such a boneheaded thing as attacking Hewitt. He kept her arm around his neck to help steady her as she walked.
“What happened?” she asked groggily, coughing a bit.
“Apparently you attacked Adam with a knife and he choked you out?”
“Sounds about right,” she said wearily, still trying to regain her senses.
“What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t want to risk him living near us at the resort,” Hannah answered. “You had the guns, so I grabbed the only thing I could find.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I need him alive so I can take him to the military,” Metzger said as he helped her up the first few steps. “They’ll stop badgering me, and Adam won’t be our concern.”
As Metzger reached the first landing, heading upward, he heard the sound of clopping winter boots coming at him.
“Did I miss something?” Timmons asked with wide eyes, holding a pistol, when he encountered the pair on the landing.
Metzger and Hannah looked to one another, then to the pilot, giving audible sighs as they brushed past him to get some much-needed sleep.
Thirty-Two
Two Days Later
Gracine hadn’t spent much time with certain members of her new community, and that list included Sister Rosa. During their interactions, the two were certainly amicable, but they came from very different backgrounds. Internally, Gracine ranked the Maplewood residents in the order in which she trusted them, and Rosa and Father Paul were certainly near the top.
Each Sunday, the pair held mass, and Father Paul made efforts to accommodate various denominations without making attendees feel as though they needed to convert to Catholicism. Rosa spoke very little to her community members, often letting her work ethic speak for her. She helped in any number of ways, preparing meals, providing school lessons for the children and young adults, and sometimes venturing outside the walls to help gather supplies for the residents.
Gracine occasionally helped with supply runs, but they tended to save her spot in the rotation for those times when a big rig required driving back to the community. During a few instances, particularly in the larger, more dangerous towns, they were able to locate a tractor-trailer filled with a variety of goods that didn’t arrive to whatever store ordered the goods. She hated finding a zombified driver stuck inside the cab, but they were easy to deal with before taking the truck. Seeing them reminded Gracine of how her own life might have ended if she hadn’t chosen to abandon her profession and get away from populated areas when she did.
“Where are we headed, exactly?” Gracine asked as she drove a small green Honda a few miles outside of Maplewood in the direction Rosa provided.
“To Lynchburg,” Rosa answered. “It’s where Father Paul and I lived, and worked. I may know a few more areas that weren’t touched by looters.”
“You don’t just call him Paul when you’re not around him?”
“It’s disrespectful,” Rosa said with an absolutely serious expression. “He is one of the few conduits we have with God left on this planet.”
“I guess I don’t know much about your religion,” Gracine admitted. “Pretty much any religion for that matter.”
“I noticed you haven’t been to any services,” Rosa noted without judgment in her tone.
Gracine continued driving, framing her answer to be less abrasive than the words swimming in her mind.
“Maybe I’m not much of a believer, considering how few of us are left.”
“Perhaps God left you here for a reason. Are you not helping others?”
“I’m just trying to stay alive.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw a knowing smirk from Rosa.
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t be joining me on this run.”
“Sister, are you questioning my honesty?” Gracine asked, using a tone that indicated she wasn’t being a hard-ass.
“Are you avoiding a real conversation about religion?”
“I’ve noticed you and Father Paul are good about answering questions with questions. Colby says the same thing.”
Rosa chuckled.
“Speaking of Colby, you two seem reasonably chummy for people who aren’t dating.”
“Dating?”
“You know what I mean.”
Gracine gave a sigh, reminded of the one thing that bothered her most about the community. With only so many people, gossip spread like wildfire, and no one appeared capable of minding their own business, particularly regarding relationships.
“Colby is hot and cold all the time,” she answered, speaking as neutrally as possible. “I’m not sure I can deal with that.”
“You’re not that much different,” Rosa pointed out. “Most of the time you’re very task-oriented and serious.”
“Colby has a lot on his plate,” Gracine countered. “The death of his son, and taking care of the other one.”
“His son is an adult. And, while no one gets over the death of a child, most people move forward. You could help him with that.”
Gracine swerved to avoid a zombie in the center of the road just ambling and looking skyward for some reason.
Along this particular stretch of highway, they found very few stalled cars as fields and trees surrounded them. Occasionally, they spotted a house off the road, but checking individual houses often offered greater risk than reward in rural areas.
“I’m with Reggie,” Gracine said. “And it doesn’t seem very Christian of you to suggest I betray his trust.”
“There’s no ring on that finger,” Rosa noted, nodding toward Gracine’s left hand.
Gracine groaned.
“I’m sure you and Father Paul could take care of that if things ever got that serious.”
“We could certainly help.”
Several seconds of silence passed.
“And what about you?” Gracine inquired.
“What about me?”
“With the end of the world upon us, are you forever committed to celibacy?”
“I wasn’t committed in the first place.”
Gracine gave her a quizzical stare.
“Girl?”
“I’m a sister, not a nun,” Rosa answered.
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes. Becoming a nun is something far more binding. My position allows me to back out and return to a normal life if I choose to.”
Gracine arched an eyebrow before speaking her next words.
“We’re half a year into the apocalypse and you’re still rapping little kids on the knuckles with rulers?”
“Look, I didn’t choose my vocation on a whim,” Rosa explained, her accent a bit thicker than usual as she stressed her point. “I take this very seriously.”
“Okay, okay,” Gracine said, removing her hands from the wheel briefly in a defensive posture to indicate she wouldn’t pursue the topic further.
A moment later, every ounce of civilization disappeared as fields surrounded them in every direction. One solitary tree stood defiantly in the center of a cornfield on their right where the corn had long since submitted to the elements, mostly hunched over like an elderly person using a walker. Most likely, the deer and birds helped expedite the battered appearance of the cornstalks by eating what exposed kernels they could find.
“Just one more question,” Gracine pressed, drawing an audible sigh from her passenger. “Don’t you Catholic folks worship Mary for some reason?”
“Mary?” Rosa asked for clarification.
“You know, the mother of Jesus.”
Rosa started to answer, but a strange sight ahead in the road caught their attention, and Gracine pulled to the right shoulder, a safe distance away from the two people who appeared to be literally supporting one another. A man and a woman struggled to walk, and though both remained among the living, Gracine wasn’t certain how much longer they could survive without intervention.
She turned to Rosa.
“What do you think?”
“They look legit,” the sister answered. “There’s literally nothing else out here, so they can’t exactly surprise us.”
Gracine looked around for anywhere a sniper might post up, peering at them through his sights, finding nothing except the tree, which didn’t offer cover without its leaves. Not one house, barn, or outbuilding could be seen, and unless someone chose to lie within the fading corn, good cover wasn’t readily available.
As they drew closer, the pair in the road wore haggard expressions, not looking for assistance, or backing away, as they trudged forward. The man’s head appeared shaved, giving him a military or police appearance, with a thin, but fit frame as he wore blue jeans and an olive-green work shirt with long sleeves. By contrast, the woman kept her dark hair pulled back with a band, though she also wore blue jeans and a red jacket, possibly from a high-end store that sold jackets for urban people who wanted to appear rural. Like most clothing, it likely came to her through whatever journey brought her to the western portion of Virginia.
“How are we doing?” Gracine asked when she stepped from the car, her hand already placed atop the pistol holstered on her right side.
She saw both the man and the woman toted firearms at their sides, but neither made any move for the weapons. Their expressions displayed their exhaustion, and it took a few strides for them to come to a stop and acknowledge the two women before them.
“We’ve been better,” the man answered. “Out for a drive on this lovely day?”
Gracine already liked that the man possessed a sense of humor, though she wasn’t ready to drop her guard completely.
“We were about to check some areas for supplies,” Gracine said, seeing little point in being deceptive or untruthful.
“We can save you the trouble,” the woman answered, showing bruises and bloody marks upon closer inspection. “The towns we passed through were mostly picked over.”
“Are you two okay?” Rosa inquired, opening the car’s trunk to get them some bottles of water.
“We’re trying to reach the military base,” the woman answered, before glancing sideways at her companion. “Against his advice.”
Gracine stiffened at the words, knowing her and her group worked hard to avoid the military and the base at all costs for several reasons.
“I’m not a fan myself,” she said. “We had some poor customer service from them when our group reached their gates.”
“Do you have family at the base?” Rosa asked, handing the pair two unopened water bottles.
Gracine took notice that the weary travelers eyeballed her religious garb.
“I have information to deliver,” the woman answered, her expression immediately indicating she believed she said too much.
“We can help you,” Rosa offered. “We can at least get you some supplies.”
Gracine looked to her, remembering when the sister offered to help her group, only to be chastised by Father Paul for speaking out of turn.
“They need help,” Rosa said in her own defense so only Gracine heard.
“We can make it on our own,” the man said, openly not trusting strangers to assist with their task.
“At the rate you’re crawling, it would take you a month to reach Norfolk,” Gracine said, beginning to agree with Rosa.
Both of the travelers opened their water bottles and downed the water in virtually one swig. Neither appeared ready to speak about their mysterious agenda, which caused Gracine to wonder what could be so important and secretive at the same time.
“You say you need to reach the base,” she said, addressing the woman directly. “They weren’t exactly hospitable when my friends went there.”
“I work for the government,” the woman said, appearing slightly taken aback after speaking the words. “Worked for them. They’ll listen to me. They’ll have to.”
Gracine looked to Rosa, who returned her concerned glance.
“You went to Naval Station Norfolk?” the man questioned, his eyes meeting Gracine’s.
“We did, back in the fall.”
“And?”
“They turned us away, mister. We escorted a friend there, and they let him inside, because his brother was a Navy officer, but they wanted nothing to do with the rest of us.”
A perplexed expression crossed the man’s face.
“I wonder why they would turn people away.”
“They didn’t have the room, and they were still working on setting up, and clearing the dead.”
“It’s their job to protect us,” the man said, taking the situation a bit personally.
“They were overwhelmed,” the government woman said. “I doubt they had much of a choice.”
“We were told our politicians are living in bunkers, safely tucked away in secret locations,” Gracine said. “That sounds like the same old shit to me.”
“Can you trust them?” the man asked of the government woman. “Will they even believe you?”
“I have to try,” she answered. “There’s nowhere else to go.”
Now the man shook his head negatively.
“What is it?” Rosa asked, noting that something left him unhappy about heading to the base.
“I had an acquaintance who was being held against his will at the base,” he answered. “And this was after he assisted them, risking his own life. I’m not entirely sure the military can be trusted.”
“It wasn’t Dan Metzger, was it?” Gracine asked with surprise, uncertain how any other human being could meet the same criteria.
“It was,” he answered, openly stunned.
“Just so we’re clear, a guy who carries swords and decapitates zombies like nobody’s business?” Gracine questioned further.
“Don’t know that I saw too much of the beheading, but he was carrying a couple swords in some kind of backpack when I saw him in Buffalo.”
“Sounds like we need to have a little talk,” Gracine said, motioning for the weary duo to join them in their car. “Supplies can wait.”
***
