Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 6): In the Arms of Family Page 9

  With him he brought LaFrenz, as well as Blake and Kim, two of Adrian’s fellow survivors who had been staying in Westfield so that Kim could give birth to their bouncing baby boy under the medically trained eye of Lisa Goldman. The two soldiers had bonded strongly over the year, and seldom did they travel anywhere not within eyesight. They were an odd couple, but sometimes strange pairings make for successful recipes.

  Westfield made trips roughly every ten days to the private school to get water. They had procured a small water tanker in town and with no town water available near the high school, they worked out a deal where Westfield would supply the ALPA people with various supplies and ammunition and ALPA would empty their bottomless artesian wells into the truck as needed. It kept everyone healthy, hydrated, and happy despite the required drive.

  This trip was made extra joyous due to the birth of Kim and Blake's meatball. Mike couldn’t get over how fat and healthy the baby was. Everyone had a notion that any babies born now would be thin, and sickly, but that was not the case. Everyone at the private school had gathered on the porch of one of the large dormitories to visit the beaming new parents, and their rosy faced baby. It was a nice day, with warm sunshine and blue skies.

  Mike and Adrian stood together leaning on the railing, watching the goings on quietly. Adrian was such a character, Mike had always felt. It was exacerbated now by his Mohawk haircut. The longer row of hair stood up a clean half inch taller than the buzzed sides. He was covered in colorful tattoos on his arms and legs, and he cast a long shadow. He was tall, lean, and muscular. He exuded a natural confidence that caused people to gravitate to him, and his time in the Army made him as deadly as he looked like he could be. Mike liked him quickly, and respected mightily what the 35 year old had accomplished in the wake of the world's end. He’d turned a school filled with dead children into a bastion of safety, and helped to free Westfield from the tyranny of their first leader Sean.

  “I have shitty news Mike,” Adrian said flatly without taking his eyes off the little baby boy.

  Mike turned to him, taken aback by the tone of the man’s voice. “Yeah? How shitty?”

  “Really shitty. You’re not gonna like this one bit, but on the 23rd, Gilbert passed.” Adrian looked over with sad eyes at Mike. Gilbert was an older man that had lived near the school. He was an ex-Green Beret, and in the months since the end of the world, he had been like Adrian’s father, and compatriot. They had made for a great pair, and were largely inseparable. Mike knew the young warrior was hurting deeply at the loss.

  Others gathered on the porch overheard enough of Adrian’s words to understand what was going on. The ALPA people already knew the bad news. They humbled themselves and turned their attention to the two leaders.

  “Holy shit. What happened?” Mike asked. He hadn't even realized the old man wasn't around.

  “He had Abby shoot him. I don’t want to go into details because it’s nothing good, but Gilbert had some baggage, and he felt he was better off dead than alive. He talked Abby into helping him go. It sounds strange, but it's for the best.” Adrian looked over at the young Blake, the new father. Blake was just like Adrian when it came to the grizzled Vietnam veteran Gilbert. Blake was sucked right into the old man’s hard charm immediately. They had clashed for sure, but it was like an argument with a good father. It was only afterwards you realized the words were out of love and wisdom, and not hurt.

  Blake swallowed hard as he listened to Adrian, holding his baby tighter suddenly. “Well I think that settles it.” He looked down at the mother of his child. She looked up at him and nodded in agreement.

  Adrian raised an eyebrow and looked over at the couple. “Settles what?”

  “We haven’t named this little guy yet. We had some ideas, but if Gilbert is really gone, well. We were thinking of asking you for your permission to name him Adrian Gilbert.” Blake looked at Adrian with pleading eyes.

  Abby, Adrian’s blonde 18 year old right hand woman and the hardest teenager in the history of America smiled from a few steps away and spoke up, “I think that’s great. Couldn’t be a more fitting name.”

  Patty, Abby’s dark haired mother added her two cents, “I agree. That’s just great.”

  Adrian looked at the two women, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of having a child carrying his name. He shook his head in slight disbelief and asked a question of Blake and Kim, “Why? I mean, I get Gilbert, but why me?”

  Kim responded, “Adrian if it wasn’t for you and Gilbert, we’d be dead no doubt. At the very least, I’d still be at that damn farm, waiting to have a baby without his daddy there. You gave Blake friendship, food, and safety, and you saved my life, potentially saving my baby’s life. Making sure our boy knows the name of the two men who saved his family and made that happen is the least we can do for him.”

  Mike looked at Adrian as he swallowed the sense of her statement. After nearly a minute of awkward silence Adrian simply shrugged, and nodded. A small round of applause went through the gathered survivors, and Mike smiled.

  It was a fitting name for a newborn. To be named after not one but two heroes was an honor very few were bestowed.

  Mike sincerely hoped the child lived up to his namesakes.

  *****

  Mike and company left the rural lakeside private school that evening and headed home. They brought back two of their own who had been staying there as well. Mallory Malone, a spunky hairdresser that was seeing Adrian, and Hector, one of Mike’s guardsman and their resident mechanic. Mike secretly wondered if the generator would’ve been fixed faster if Hector had been there. The Mexican had a way with making things work.

  Life settled in as it was at Westfield. Granted, things were not quite as good as before the dead came back to life, but things were going well. The sudden and large influx of returning survivors to Westfield had strained their food and water resources, but as always, hard work overcame the trouble. They doubled their scavenging efforts in the areas of town they hadn’t fully explored, and their resident farmer Lenny McDowell used the extra laborers to get fast growing crops into the ground. They were not eating like kings, but they certainly were eating.

  Lisa Goldman, the physician’s assistant and elected leader of Westfield held a small community party to mark the occasion of the repair of the generator. They delayed the celebration until July 13th on the account of business, and a fairly large group of wandering undead moving around the high school. Despite having rows of cars parked as a wall against the dead, they still walked on pins and needles when more than three or four undead came near their stronghold at the same time.

  For the party they made a few small cakes out of the flour they’d kept in good condition, and the cooks in the group grilled a deer outside in the parking lot that one of Mike’s men had shot while exploring a few days prior. Random wild game was solid gold for the group now. The occasion was joyous, and Chris Sunderman, the 21 year old man who’d managed to fix the generator was hailed as a bit of a hero. He was clearly uncomfortable with the attention, but after a few sips from one of their few remaining bottles of Southern Comfort, he settled into the role nicely.

  Mike sat down with Lisa, LaFrenz, and Lenny after the shindig and they voiced some concerns as the quasi drunken revelry in the school’s cafeteria came to a close.

  “This generator business scares the shit out of me,” Mike said to the group. The other three responded with solemn nods. Beside Mike, Lenny sipped from a small plastic cup that had a mouthful of Irish Crème. There was no ice. He slowly nodded in agreement. The older man was full of small town wisdom, and rarely spoke unless it was important.

  “You realize that if that generator goes, this school is going to turn into a damn cave. Lots of dark interior halls, cold floors, and with no juice, nothing is gonna work. I’d be willing to bet that old machine you’re leaning on here is as old, or older than this building, and this school was built when Nixon was running for office.” Lenny said quietly, gesturing around at the
walls and ceiling, trying not to alarm the few people still in the cafeteria with them.

  Lisa injected a question, “So what do we do? Is there a long term solution we can work? Find more generators? To use as backups?”

  Lenny shook his head simultaneously with Mike. Mike answered her, “I think I can safely say that Lenny is thinking what I’m thinking. My belief is that we have all our eggs in one basket. Too many people in one building relying on too few resources. If that generator goes, everyone needs power. If we suddenly burn down, or if we all get sick at the same time, lots of folks are gonna get hurt or die. I think we should be splitting the group up into several smaller, closely bunched buildings. Lenny what’re you thinking?”

  Lenny nodded and responded in his trademark husky drawl, “Five or six small structures like some of them apartment buildings near here. We can wall off the whole neighborhood, put generators in each building, have exits in several directions, and if one burns down, we don’t all die. Plus if one building comes down with something like the flu, we just quarantine it for a bit ‘til it passes. I hate to say this, but that fella Adrian has had the right idea all along. Fortify a large group of buildings, and supply each independently. Hell, he’s even got my son growing crops inside that wall he and his people are building. Pretty soon they won’t need to ever leave that place to survive.”

  Lisa took it all in, thinking over it carefully. Eventually she added her own two cents, “We desperately need to answer the fresh water question. There are no good wells here, and the town water and sewer is shot. Every flush of the toilets here sends us a little closer to an overflow or backup. Eventually that water truck will die, and then the next one will too. Maybe we need to start looking for places around here with ample fresh water? Outside of downtown.”

  The other three men listened to her and agreed silently. Mike asked the big question, “Why aren’t we thinking about moving to ALPA? Lock, stock and barrel. They’ve got the room, and as long as we moved the majority of Lenny’s farm over, we’d have plenty of food. God knows we have plenty of shit still stored down in the basement to eat we could bring. We’ve got plenty of reasons to move there, and they’ve got plenty of reasons to take us all in. They’re building one hell of a bastion there.”

  LaFrenz spoke up finally, “I won’t go. I don’t really care for that place at all, and I think Adrian is bat shit crazy. No offense. He takes far too many risks with those people. I have no idea how they put up with his shit.”

  Mike laughed. “LaFrenz, they love him. He’s pulled their asses out of the fire more times than any of us could dream of being a fucking hero. Plus, if it weren’t for all his work, none of those people would be safe at all right now. Those folks would eat a 12 gauge to keep that man alive. You just gotta spend more time with him.”

  Lenny sipped his drink and agreed, “Son, that man is a leader. He may seem like he’s foolish, but his heart is in the right place, and he listens to those folks around him. He does the hard thing, whether or not it'll be hard, because it's what needs to be done. You’d do well to move there if it came down to it.”

  LaFrenz shook his head slowly. “I’m all set Lenny. If we wind up moving from the school here I’m just gonna head north and camp up in one of those summer homes the rich folks owned. I’ll hunt and fish, and start a garden, and let the world finish going to shit. I’ve got a girl here that’d go with me, and we can start a small family on our own.”

  “What girl lets you touch her? You’re dirty as fuck,” Mike quipped.

  “Ha fucking ha ha dick. You know I’ve been seeing Angie. She and I have been together for like two months now.” LaFrenz tried to hide it, but he was clearly pleased with that announcement.

  “I always knew that girl had a head injury,” Mike leaned in and said to Lenny.

  “Hey fuck you Mike. Seriously. I like this girl.” LaFrenz was insulted.

  “I know I know man, quit being a bitch, I’m just giving you shit. Part of the job of being a sergeant. It’s right next to yelling at you every time you fuck something up.” Mike grinned, trying to make peace. LaFrenz laughed after a second, and the tiny bit of tension disappeared.

  Lisa got them back on track. “So I don’t know if we can even get the support for a move. Some folks will want to stay, others will want to go, others like LaFrenz and his girlfriend will want to leave entirely, plus there’s the dilemma of whether or not Adrian and his people will even take us in.”

  Lenny coughed to clear his throat, and chimed in, “I won’t go. I can’t leave the farm. I can help move everything I don’t need to survive on my own over there for Ollie to tend, but I’m too old for this shit.” Lenny adjusted the brim of his tattered Navy hat. He’d been a sailor many years ago.

  “I can respect that Lenny, I appreciate your honesty,” Mike said to his friend. Lenny nodded with a tip of the beaten up cap.

  “Well I say we table this idea until we make our next water run to ALPA. That’s in what? Two days? Three days Mike?” Lisa said.

  Mike blinked a few times and did the math. “Yeah two days or so. Might be able to stretch it to three, but there’s no need to risk running low or out. I can sit down with him and go over everything. In the meantime, maybe we should start taking inventory on a move. Either way, the sense to leave here and move to somewhere else is good, and knowing what has to go and when will be good for us.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. We need to keep this quiet though. We don’t need people thinking some of us are breaking off and leaving them behind. Panic over thinking they are being abandoned is a nightmare we do not need. While we’re at it, maybe we can break up the supplies so they aren’t all in the same place?” Lisa gave the men a stern look. She was afraid of what even a little gossip could do to their fragile community.

  “I can get Mary to help me take stock of things. Mike you can figure out where to move shit,” LaFrenz said.

  Mike nodded at his soldier. “Lenny, you think you can maybe write down some ideas on how we can move what and when for the farm? I can’t imagine moving everything will be possible this year, what with all the plants growing already.”

  Lenny thought for a bit then replied, “Yeah, that’d be pretty hard to do. We’re better off waiting ‘til harvest, and then setting it all up again next year. I can write some ideas down.”

  “Then it’s agreed. We stay quiet for now, take stock of what would need to be done if and when we need or want to move to wherever, and in a couple days we ask Adrian and his people what they think about a possible move to their place,” Lisa summed up the entire conversation succinctly. The men nodded in agreement, and left to do their leader’s bidding.

  They didn't know it that then, but their timing was nearly perfect.

  *****

  LaFrenz and Mary spent the entire next day shaking off the hammering skull of a decent hangover. They took an approximate inventory of everything that absolutely had to be moved in the event of an exodus from the Westfield school. It was a terrific amount of goods. There was ammunition, canned goods, fuel, clothes, tools, weapons, medicine, and much more. They had to clear out the entire medical clinic nearby that they’d taken over for major medical procedures, as well as empty out the garage on the corner that Hector had appropriated to do the repairs on their vehicles. It would be a huge move, and that wasn’t even taking the people into account, nor the tremendous danger the fresh undead pervading the town represented.

  As LaFrenz and Mary did their counting Mike, Hector, and a few of the other residents of the school followed them around to relocate some of the supplies to other areas of the building, as well as into the backs of the some of the vehicles they used out in the parking lot. The great fear of having an accident ruining so much had instilled a powerful sense of purpose in Mike and the few people he had invited in to assist with the project. No one wanted to be left out in the cold after having lost everything.

  Everyone went to sleep in Westfield that night having accomplished much, and
oblivious to the fact that more than half of them would not see the sun again.

  *****

  Space in the Westfield high school was at a premium with sixty bodies inside it. The town had a cramped high school to begin with, and when you turn classrooms into bedrooms, living rooms, and storage for the essential items to house sixty people, the space dwindles rapidly and privacy becomes a luxury. The high school was almost impossible to keep cool when the generator died. The ventilation system was powered by the diesel machine in the basement, and the air inside became thick with the salty, pungent odor of human sweat.

  Conditions became much more tolerable when the life giving electricity began to run out of the generator once more. Fresh cooled air came out of the ducts again, and with power to run all the appliances and equipment inside, life continued in as normal a fashion as was possible in the world they lived in. They couldn't live in the building unless it had electricity. It simply wasn't designed that way.

  Because space was at a premium, some of the newest members of the school’s community were forced to take temporary shelter in areas that were less than desirable. Morgan, a seventeen year old that had returned to Westfield just weeks ago from his family’s hunting cabin up north was living in the basement, just a few dozen feet from the steady growling of the diesel generator. Morgan learned at a very young age that he was able to sleep anywhere, and when he found out he could sleep alone in the damp, cool basement, the teenager jumped at the opportunity others had scoffed at.

  Morgan awakened to the sound of scraping metal across the concrete floor. The vibration of the steel of the chain link gate that surrounded the generator was an alien noise, especially at night when no one ventured downstairs into the darkness he called home. When he cracked open his tired eyes he saw the dim yellow glow of an old flashlight bobbing about near the generator. Morgan sat up on the edge of the small cot he rested on, and rubbed his eyes, clearing them to take a better look.