Adrian's Undead Diary (Book 7): The Trinity Read online

  I dunno Mr. Journal. I’m still figuring this whole life thing out.

  -Adrian

  September 5th

  Bitch please. This is going to be fun.

  We rolled out on our first recon to contact op yesterday, and it went very well. In fact, it went so well, we are planning on going out on another tomorrow. The next trip out will be for longer than a day and a half too. Exhilarating. Thrilling. Sneaky.

  Mike and I went out just the two of us yesterday. Patty, Mallory, and everyone who cares about the two of us was entirely against the idea of us moving about in an unsupported pair in the wilds, but we had radios, and frankly, the two of us are far more capable on our own. Not to mention Mike sprung a fucking sweet surprise on me the night before we left.

  He’s built some homemade suppressors. We have extra Beretta M9s, and with a tap and die set, and his relatively extensive armorer’s background in the Guard, he managed to thread the barrels, and with some of the metal and stuff that Martin has been accumulating the past few weeks, he’s built six poor man’s suppressors.

  When he and Patty arrived on campus two nights ago, he showed me them, and I had to laugh. Seriously Mike? Homemade silencers? Suuuuure.

  But they fucking work. They reduced the sound of the Beretta’s shots by at least 75%. From a loud crack down to about the level of noise smashing a 2x4 into a door might make. Loud enough that if you were paying attention you might hear it, but the undead will probably miss it.

  The tradeoff appears to be range and accuracy. The rounds are sailing after about 75 feet it appears, so we’re talking about using these pistols strictly for up close dirty work. And yesterday and this morning, we did just fucking that. Good times. Mike is the man. If Patty doesn’t bear his babies for him, I gladly will. Someone has to take one for the team. I don’t think the suppressors are all that durable, or will last that long, and Mike said as he finds more of the better supplies he can use, he can upgrade or build new ones.

  Oh, he also fixed the Glock that plugged on me when we hit the gas station a month or so ago. Apparently the dud round was freed up with some work, and after a wee bit of minor tender loving care the gun is now fully operational again. I am still carrying the 10mm Kimber though. It’s a small homage to Gilbert, and I still haven’t drawn and fired the bitch, and until I get that itch out of my system, it stays on my hip. Riiiight next to the new suppressed Beretta Mike made for me. Granted, carrying the extra ammo and magazines is a bitch, but when I need it, it’s there, and frankly, I can manage a few extra magazines of weight.

  After all, it didn’t slow me down yesterday.

  Mike picked me up here in the Prius and after laying out an extensive plan and setting up where we wanted to try and find this mythical Factory, we took off yesterday before dawn, before anyone else here was really aware we were leaving. On the outside chance our arsonist is in leagues with the Outsiders, we felt it best that we kept all but the closest to us out of the loop. Too many hands in the cookie jar of information in my opinion.

  Sounds awfully communist of me. I suddenly feel VERY dictatorial. I need to revisit my control of information theory. Need to be a good leader. Need to be a good leader.

  Yesterday, I focused on being a good hunter of men.

  Fortunately, Mike and I are good at that game.

  We took off in the Prius and headed past MGR and towards Gilbert’s warehouse where we felt the boundary of what we claimed as ours, and what they claimed as theirs. It was clear to us that in order to find them and make an impression, we had to go where we hadn’t gone before.

  The interstate and beyond.

  Right at the ramp where we found the van Caleb, Sophie and Becca abandoned, we parked on the shoulder of the road in an inconspicuous way. The next exit heading towards the city took you to some surface roads where we knew there were multiple small industrial parks and larger businesses. It stood to reason that the Outsiders were using a large building that was fortified in some manner. It just made sense. So naturally we headed in the direction of the more industrial portion of the city’s fringe on foot.

  Mike’s older than I am, but he’s in really good shape. Like I said before, it’s the P90Z workout plan. We made excellent progress on foot and happily put the new suppressed Berettas to work. Mike and I got a good feel for our pistols on the way down to the industrial area. Random undead on foot approaching us, or just wandering about got put down. That’s pretty much when we figured out that 75 feet was the far end of our predictable accuracy. Ideally we’d like to be somewhere around 50 feet or less, which for the most part we were able to achieve while we were out.

  Moving on foot has the advantage of being almost entirely silent. The undead were unable to hear us for the most part, and as long as we were using the Berettas, we were able to engage at will, with little risk of being heard and drawing any attention to us. What was noteworthy was the fairly low amount of undead. I think Mike and I had to drop maybe 15 or 20 while we were moving into the area, and maybe another 15 or 20 on the way back out. We were both expecting far more than that.

  One thing that’s interesting is that my suppressor is quieter than Mike’s. When Mike shoots his gun the report is more of a crack, whereas my report is like a “thwipp” noise. Much less obvious. As a result, I did slightly more shooting than him, and noticed that at really close range, I can actually hear the slide of the gun hitting closed sometimes over the sound of the shot itself. Kind of cool. I can also hear the crack of the bullet penetrating the braincase, which is also highly satisfying.

  Anyway, enough suppressor porn.

  Mike and I wanted to setup a place to observe. Preferably somewhere high up, or on a hill where we could get a good view of some city streets so we could observe traffic if the Outsiders were moving about. Luckily, we found a small apartment building on a man set of streets that had three floors. Mike and I had to pry the building’s front door open with a halligan and a heavy boot, and once inside, we cleared our way up to the top floor until we got to the doors that appeared to be the ones facing where we wanted to be.

  I tested the door of the first apartment, and after finding it was locked, I ripped it open with the halligan and Mike went in. He snapped off two rounds right off the bat, dropping two undead that had been locked inside for who knows how long. Instinctively I braced for the sound of Mike's gunshots, but they were mild, and I think I did an internal dance of joy. Gunfire in an enclosed space is ungodly loud normally, but with the suppressor… Hell yeah baby. Perhaps I won’t actually be deaf by 40.

  I'm sorry, did you say something?

  I drew my Beretta, and the two of us went room to room, making the apartment safe. In one of the rooms in the far back of the apartment we found a child’s bedroom with the door smashed in. There were claw marks all over the wood, and it appeared as if the two adults had slowly scratched and smashed their way inside their own child’s bedroom. On the floor bitten apart was an animated dead girl about 5 or 6 years of age. Her spindly legs had been chewed apart, and she was unable to walk or even really crawl anymore. Mike coughed at the stench, and snapped a quick shot off, putting her down. I can’t imagine how horrible it was for a little girl to die like that. I wonder how long she was locked in her own bedroom, with her parents beating at the door, scratching their way inside to eat her alive.

  Fucked up shit.

  As it turns out, it wasn’t even the right apartment. We had hit the one NOT on the corner of the street, so we had to clear the one adjacent to it. This time Mike halligan’d the door open, and I went in, pistol up. No bodies moving in the living room and kitchenette, but the smell of the dead was wafting from the hall, so I kept the weapon up. I booted the first bedroom door open and saw it was empty. The second bedroom door was also kicked in by Mike, and it was empty as well. The bathroom at the end of the hallway though was a different story.

  I kicked the door in and as it went inward it smacked off a middle aged female zombie, sending it tumbling backwar
ds into a large claw footed tub. Old apartment buildings always have cool plumbing fixtures it seems. The zombie landed head first in the tub, sending its legs up and over. I noticed immediately that there was dried blood everywhere in the tub, and on the floor, so I took a step back and tried to hold my breath from the smell while the scrambling, stilted dead body righted itself in the tub.

  The left hand of the dead body was tied firmly to the faucet of the tub. That same arm had two huge gashes running from elbow to wrist, and immediately I knew it was a suicide. The woman was kind enough to tie herself to the tub first though. Thoughtful way to go I suppose.

  Once the dead girl got her head in a spot where I could put my front sight on it, I snapped a 9mm round off, sending her permanently where she wanted to go when she cut her arms open. Mike and I double checked both apartments and the hallway again, and after dragging her body into the other apartment, made sure the fire escape was a viable exit, double checked all the open hallway spaces to ensure they were empty of undead, made sure all the other apartment doors were locked as well, we barricaded the door, and we settled down in our makeshift sniper hide.

  It was a long and boring day, but I got to know Mike really well. Mike asked me a lot of questions about my dreams, and how I felt about them, and I was as honest as I could be. I’m weirded out by them frankly. I don’t like the fact that I appear to be a conduit to the dead. I don’t like the idea at all, but it is what it is. Mike seemed comforted by the fact that I was not entirely happy about it. I think if I had represented to him that I was stoked, or honored, he’d have thought I was an asshole, or crazy as hell. Mike and I are definitely closer today than we were before. That in and of itself is good, never mind the shooting we did late yesterday evening.

  Proper sniping is about firing, and displacing fast. Smart people will figure out where the gunfire is coming from fairly quickly, suppress it or move on it, and deal with the threat. Look at what happened to their sniper the day we returned to the warehouse. Abby caught on, maneuvered on them, and shot the dude dead before he was able to do any real damage to us. Had that prick fired once or twice, moved five or six houses away and shot a couple more times, we would’ve been chasing his ass all damn day to no avail, and he would’ve put some serious hurt on us as we wandered around either looking for him, or looking for a way to get the fuck out of his range.

  He should’ve done it like Mike and I did. Not that we're experts. During our downtime and conversation Mike was observing a fallback position we could get to out of the site of where we were aiming our rifles. He found us a convenience store we could hide out in about a block and a half away in one direction, and a small candy shop in the other. Either way, we had an exfil route.

  Just as the light was fading we heard cars in the distance, and lo and behold, we saw one of the diesels that the Outsiders escaped in the other day coming our way slowly. Engaging them was a little hasty, but I clearly recognized the vehicle, and frankly, Mike and I were ready and able to prove our point. I was in position to fire, and Mike quickly slid over on his end table firing position so we could both fire at the same time. All in all from sighting to squeeze of the trigger it was ten seconds.

  “I have the driver.”

  “I have the passenger.”

  “Fire on three. Fire, fire, fire.” And on the third fire, we both gently pulled the trigger. Our two rounds punched through the windshield of the van simultaneously, hitting our targets about 220 yards out, center mass. The van immediately went to its right, and plowed right into a fire hydrant. Mike and I threw the bolts on the rifles, chambering new rounds, and as the van’s slider door opened we discussed targets again.

  “Leave one survivor. I have the first on exit, two tangos in the back.”

  “Roger that,” Mike said back calmly.

  The first target was another middle aged woman, and just as she made her torso visible I pulled off another loud round, and she tumbled backwards into the van, leaving a bright red smear of her own blood on the door she’d just opened in an attempt to escape. The fourth and final passenger in the van looked like he hit the deck, and as soon as I saw he wasn’t actively searching for targets, I told Mike we were displacing, and in under thirty seconds, he and I were out the door, and heading down the stairwell.

  We ran like a motherfucker out the back exit of the building to the convenience store, and took cover quickly in an aisle after Mike popped a 9mm round off in the face of an undead customer. It was smooth as hell. I switched weapons inside the store from the Savage to the M4, with Mike simply keeping his pistol up. He’d engage first, and if I needed to put more lead downrange to support him, I’d fire second. Luckily, it didn’t come to that. We sat still, barrels aimed at entrances, and after twenty sweaty minutes we displaced again.

  We were out the back of the store and through an alley as fast as a pair of alley cats, and we sprinted and jogged for twenty minutes until we had some good real estate between us and them. It was another hour or two before we got back to the Prius, and that was around dusk. We decided we should head back to the same area nearby our first firing, maybe a mile away, and then we could set up another sniper hide overnight, and hopefully we would see more movement, and get a better idea of where they were coming from.

  It worked.

  We drove blacked out in the Prius slowly through the surface streets after dark, skirting where the engagement was. We knew there was one survivor, and as we were pulling into the parking lot of a small business to get out of the Toyota, we saw two sets of headlights coming our way from the general direction of the city. Mike and I bailed out, and took firing positions behind a guardrail and some posts dividing the parking lot up. The two vehicles sped right by us towards the scene of our ambush, and didn’t take any notice. Mike and I conferred quickly, and decided that we’d shot enough for the moment. Three body bags sent enough of a message for one night. Plus, based on where those vehicles came from, we now have a much better idea of where to look when we go back out tomorrow.

  We stayed low for an hour, and the two vehicles that came later sped by us, heading away towards the city. Once we were sure everything was okay, which was another hour, we slipped away silently in the electric car. No shots fired, no sign or trace of our movements.

  We arrived back here on campus late at night, I want to say maybe 3 or 4am. I went right to sleep on one of the couches in the common room, and Mike did the same. When we awoke, we had an all hands meeting of the important folks. Everyone was pretty happy with how things panned out, but Mallory was sort of pissed that I was in danger alone. She brought that up just a bit ago in private. Guess she really does care.

  One thing that was pointed out to us that is a big oversight on our part is not checking other radio channels for communication. How did the other vehicles know where to go? They had to be in communication somehow, and neither Mike nor I thought to go through the channels to see if we could pick up on their chatter. Huge mistake on our part.

  Next time, we’ll keep one radio on our channel, and have one set to cycle through the channels. They have got to be talking somehow, and I’m fairly sure cell phone service is still down. Oh well, missed opportunity for good intel. I’m too tired, and happy about the success we did enjoy to be hard on myself.

  I think we are taking tomorrow off, giving the Outsiders a chance to think about what just happened (allowing their paranoia to build), and then we’re going out again in similar fashion. Caleb still isn’t well enough to go with us yet, but Hector is, and he wants in something fierce. If the three of us roll back out the day after tomorrow, we can establish two places to fire/observe from if needed. Overlapping fields of fire would be nice.

  I think next time we shoot them, we should think about sticking around to fire on the responders too. Let them know that when they rush out to help their pals, things aren’t safe. Hey if it worked for the Iraqi insurgents, it can work for us.

  Check back in when I can Mr. Journal.

  -Adria
n

  September 8th

  I said hello to the Outsiders this morning in my special Adrian Ring way. Did I make friends, or enemies Mr. Journal? You be the judge. Keep reading.

  I’m still not sure exactly where these assholes are coming from. What Mike, Hector and I did figure out yesterday was that they are coming from the northern portion of the city’s suburbs. Every time we saw them moving yesterday and this morning they were coming from a northeast trajectory, which told us that was probable.

  It also tells me that they push through an area of the city that is fairly central, and that means they either drive right through undead central, or that area is actually cleared of wandering zombies. Either way you look it, they’re hardcore ballsy, or they’ve put some serious time into killing undead in or near the city. I’ve been petrified to do that for a long ass time, and these people appear to have been doing just that for some time now. Thanks.

  I have sudden respect for these dickheads, and I dislike that notion. I really want to hate them. I guess we are defined by our foes to some extent, and if I can overcome these people, it’ll speak to my prowess. Perhaps my enemies are my teachers now.

  Of course… we’re teaching these people a few things too.

  Like I said yesterday Mike Hector and I rolled out in the Prius about two hours prior to dawn. We ran blacked out and drove straight into the area we’d set up our sniper position in on our prior recon. We didn’t drive RIGHT to the same spot, we just drove to the same 5 or 6 block area. We didn’t want to drive into a counter ambush. Once we were in that area of the town/city, we pushed forward in the direction the Outsider assistance came in, and found ourselves a nice alley to park the Prius in. We managed to tuck it inside an alcove so it wasn’t visible to anyone driving by.