Cassie (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 8) (31 page)

So we will depart, then when we are in range to make the Semtex blow up, we’ll hit the detonators. We have to be in two teams again to do this. Kevin, Michelle, Abby, Hal, and myself will take the detonator for the hospital. Joel will send another team into the area of the other parking garage, and at roughly the same time, we’ll all hit the switches, and if Quan and company did their job right, the garages will explode and collapse, hopefully killing all the undead meandering about inside them, or at the very least, trap them for a good long time.

As long as the explosives blow, we should be okay. The loud noise, dust and debris, and collateral damage of the Semtex going off should create such a diversion that even if there are no kills as a result, we’ll benefit. Smoke and mirrors baby.

From there on we head into the center of the office buildings, and straight to her office on the sixth floor. With any luck, we’ll catch a break and see her car outside on the street, and her body will be there in it.
 

We both know Mr. Journal that is not what will happen.
 

I can say with certainty this is likely to be the most difficult thing I have ever done, in a life filled with difficult experiences.
 

One way or the other, I plan on this trip being the end of my journey. Either I return a better man, able to move on, and start anew for real, or I don’t return at all. All in, is the expression.

I’m hoping for the first option, but let’s be honest… it isn’t up to me.

The people that are going with me to the city have been amazing. Abby and Hal are very supportive, positive, and reassuring. Hal’s wisdom is deeper than his years would indicate, much like Abby. The two of them are a cute couple. I’m glad they’re going with me, with us. Just having Abby’s face in the mix here has helped me stay calm.

Michelle has been no more than ten feet from me since we arrived here. She’s always watching my face and my body language to see how I’m doing. She is constantly putting a soft hand on my shoulder, or my arm to let me know she is here for me. When no one is looking, sometimes she scratches my back. I want to stand up and put my arms around her, pulling her close when she does these things, but it wouldn’t be right. Not just yet. Kevin is Kevin. Stoic, resolute, focused on the job at hand. When he senses I’m nervous, he picks on me, or cracks a joke, reminding me of who I am, and where I’m from. He keeps me grounded.

I’m a very fortunate person to have the friends I have. I love them.

We’re heading out under the cover of darkness on the morning of the 3
^rd
. Hopefully the fires and car alarms have attracted enough attention that this will work. Otherwise, we’ll be making a very short, and very horrifying trip into the city.

If this trip ends with me dead, then let this be my farewell. Abby has instructions to take over for me should this happen and she survive. If we both die... then Mallory knows the password, and even with just one hand she can see to it who becomes the next Scribe.
 

If anyone does read this, thank you for taking the time to do so. It validates me. Gives me greater worth than I deserve as I write this.

Wish us luck.

-Adrian

The Crucible

Adrian’s eyes snapped open in the dark of the room he’d fallen asleep in just a few hours prior. He wasn’t in his bedroom back at Bastion, and that was disorienting. He was on a musty, dusty couch in the den of a large home inside a gated community. Spring Meadows was the name on the expensive sign that was affixed to the brick wall that surrounded the place. He was safe.

Weeks prior Adrian and his team of survivors had ventured to this very gated community to clear it out of undead and make it their own, but they found survivors inside. Unbelievably enough they were friendly survivors. Adrian could count the number of friendly people he’d met in the year and a half since the world came crashing to an end on his fingers. It’d take a lot a fingers, more than he had, but the number of fingers he’d need to count the assholes he’d met would be far, far larger. Miracles did happen.

The locals invited them in, and after breaking bread, drinking wine, and spending hours hearing of their mutual suffering, friendships were made, and an alliance struck. The two groups of survivors would bond into a cooperative union. Adrian was very pleased. The gated neighborhood was a fortress so long as the gate held. A ten foot tall thick brick wall surrounded the entire property, and the current inhabitants had cleared the interior of the undead that were everywhere roaming outside.
 

This night, this morning, March 3
^rd
, 2012, Adrian and a small group of his closest friends were using the neighborhood as a staging ground to enter the nearby city. Adrian was to set out within hours to find some closure on something he’d put off for far too long. He was going to find the girlfriend he never tried to rescue that day. The day the world stopped living.

Cassandra.

The redheaded, pretty girl he never deserved. The feisty woman of Scottish heritage that he left to die when the undead began eating the world alive in city-sized bites. His guilt over the abandonment was epic. The months that had passed since that day were filled with self loathing and finding increasingly difficult ways to try and make amends. Adrian had nearly died rescuing others, killed to make it safe for those he cared about, skipped meals, and suffered so that others wouldn't have to. But Adrian had never taken the final, most critical step;

Try and find her, dead or alive.

He still wasn’t sure why it had taken him this long to build up the nerve. Was it the constant stream of crisis and nightmare the world thrust on him? Just getting by day to day in a world with no power, no grocery stores, no police, no fire department, no schools, and no safety was an emergency. Doing anything remotely selfish like trying to find personal closure was a pipe dream. A nightmare.

But not any more.

Adrian had committed to the trip to her work, where she was when it all came crashing down. Adrian tried to form a plan to go alone, but the people closest to him simply ignored his pleas. He threatened to leave alone. They threatened to follow him anyway.
 

A plan was formed.

It was a reach, this plan. It required weeks of preparation, dangerous trips deeper into the city than they had ever been, and lots and lots of explosives. To distract the undead in the center of the city while they searched for clues of her, they had established two “lure sites.” Two separate parking garages on different sides of downtown had been prepared to create a visual and aural diversion and trap the dead. Fires were lit on the upper levels, car alarms were triggered on the middle levels, and they’d used almost everything they had that could explode to rig each garage to blow. Two detonators were now in hand, one in Kevin’s hand, Adrian’s best friend, and one in Quan’s hand, the wily Vietnamese demolitions expert that had come halfway across the world with Kevin, searching for peace. When Adrian’s small group ventured into the city, the two groups would blow the explosives, theoretically collapsing the garages on the horde of undead that had gone to investigate the fires and the alarms.

As he dust settled, Adrian’s team would head as straight as they could to Cassie’s work. They would try to find her as fast as they could, and once satisfied, they’d leave. And there would be no leaving until Adrian was satisfied.
 

If all that went reasonably well, few would get hurt getting it done, and fewer still would die getting it all done. Adrian had little optimism everyone would walk away from today intact. Injuries were a guarantee. Death was almost certain for someone.
 

Adrian rolled his head to the side and picked up his watch. It needed no batteries, charging itself with the motion of his hands and arms each day. It was a good watch. It would've been expensive for him when the world still used money, and he worked for a wage. He already knew what time it was. 3:33 in the morning.

Threes. Everything important came in threes now. Adrian was a part of the Trinity, the mythical, impossible trio composed of his old Army buddy Kevin, and Michelle, a beautiful woman who happened to be an expert on religion. Adrian was the Scribe and the Soul, the man intended to document the suffering of those after the fall of mankind. Kevin was the Warden, the protector of the three. Michelle was the Savior, and the Soul as well, the one intended to help lead Adrian to salvation and redemption, thus freeing all of the remaining survivors of mankind from final judgment at the hands of the dead. It sounded illogical, impossible, and made Adrian laugh more than once. But it was real. Too much had conspired to prove its truth.
 

Strange things happened on March 3
^rd
of the previous year. On the third hour of the third day, of the third month no less. It was no surprise to Adrian when the clock showed him it was 3:33. Threes.

It was the perfect time to start what might be his last day alive.

*****

“Are you sure you still want to do this? We don’t have to, you know. We can blow the garages, chalk it up as a win and move on to more pressing matters, like finding more food, and shooting the motherfuckers that shot Fitz,” Kevin said. Kevin and Adrian sat on the steps of the lavish five bedroom home they’d spent the night in. The sun was aglow in the east, the sky clear, and the wind was still. The weather was decent, even at five in the morning. The powers-that-be had given them good weather for their precarious journey.

Adrian spooned a hot mouthful of his MRE into his mouth and chewed it. Chicken and dumplings. It wasn’t bad, he thought as he mulled over Kevin’s suggestion. The food and his idea. He swallowed, took a swig of water from a hard plastic water bottle he carried and replied to his best friend as he dug another mouthful out of the pouch. “Kevin you already know one way or the other I’m not resting again until I get to her work. If I go and find nothing, at least I can say I tried. But I can’t NOT go. Not any longer. You know that.”

Kevin used his own spoon to dig a mouthful of hot MRE meal from his own pouch. The two men had shared more mornings like this than they could remember. They’d had a lot of meals in Iraq, right before missions that were more sensible than the one they’d be taking soon. Doing the impossible was the soldier's way.

“It was worth a shot. You know Adrian,” Kevin said as he savored the bite of food he’d heated up just minutes before, “I owe you everything man. You gave up your military career for me. I’d be nothing if it weren’t for you. I had a good life because of what you did for me."

Adrian shook his head, dismissing the notion. “That’s bullshit Kev. I gave up a career in the military for my best friend. I’d do it again if I had to. I did just fine once I got out. You had a lot more on the line when we got busted after RIP brother. I bounced back just fine. You don’t owe me shit. I hope you’re not doing this today because you think you owe me some retarded debt. We're even. More than even."

Kevin laughed. “No man. I’m doing this because I know you need it. Because it’s the right time to do it, and because it needs to be done. And because I love you like a brother. I’d do anything for you man. Hope you know that.”

Adrian looked over the tall, strong man that he’d nearly died for many times. The old adage that you “die for the man next to you” was very true. In the heat of war, the only motivation you have is to ensure that the people you went to war with came home safe with you. The bonds of blood have very little on the bonds of war, and strife.
 

Adrian felt a burst of warmth course through him he felt far too infrequently. He acted on it, “I love you man. Seriously.”
 

Kevin turned to Adrian, chewing a new bite of food. “Fag.”

Adrian shrugged, dismissing the insult from Kevin.

“I love you too man.”

Adrian nodded, knowing all along. The tall Mohawked leader of men scraped the bottom of his pouch clean and tossed it back into the bigger MRE bag. He stood tall, revealing the lean and powerful body that had been honed by nineteen months of hard work, and dangerous living. Even being shot in the neck hadn’t stopped him. He wore the ugly scar near his spine like a badge of honor now. The scar said to anyone who saw it, "This didn't kill me. What makes you think you can?" He looked as the sun rose on March 3
^rd
, casting a golden glow on the world. Adrian stretched, and took a deep breath. Content to be with his friend.

“Alright motherfucker. Let’s get this done.”

*****

Adrian’s group for this fateful march towards possible doom was small. Much smaller than groups they’d had for trips less critical. Adrian insisted the bare minimum of life be risked on his foolish venture. He took with him the two other members of the Trinity, Kevin and Michelle, as well as one of his first allies and friends since the end of the world, the teenager Abby. Abby’s new boyfriend Hal, a British Royal Marine that had traveled with Kevin from England, insisted on making the trip as well. Budding love was a powerful motivator.

As Adrian climbed into their up-armored heavy rescue ambulance, he wondered how much of the trip into the city today was really due to his own budding love. He’d been slowly building a powerful attachment to Michelle, the blonde college researcher that was supposed to be his savior. She was warm, caring, intelligent, and most of all, patient with his bullshit. She understood him. Accepted him for who he was.

He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved time with a woman like that, but he knew how being with her made him feel. Adrian wanted to chase that feeling, to become exhilarated once more, but before he could do that, he needed to cut loose from the harsh memories and burdening guilt of leaving his last love behind.
 

“Ready old man?” Abby asked him. The tiny blonde was settling into her seat in the back of the ambulance. While the vehicle was moving, her job would be to fire out the small windows in the rear doors. Her boyfriend Harold was already in position, his M4 resting on the frame.