Cassie (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 8) Read online

  A scratched tummy.

  -Adrian

  February 26th

  I find it rather impressive how much work this trip into the city is taking. Never mind the trips into the city themselves, I’m talking about the preparation for these little trips too.

  Primarily I’m speaking of cutting wood. We have a pretty steady crew of kids and adults that stand there chopping wood all day, every other day or so for the stoves, but we need a solid cord or cord and a half of wood for each of the fires we’re intending to set on the top of the parking garages. The kids spent all day today and much of yesterday chopping the wood up and loading the back of the deuce up for our next trip to the other parking garage. And if you didn't know, chopping wood means you need to take trees down, which in and of itself is an undertaking.

  Never mind the weapons maintenance, magazine loading, medical supply preparation, and the two hundred other things that need to be done here at Bastion on a daily basis. I definitely feel selfish having all these people devote this much time to something that mainly only benefits me. I mean sure, if this parking garage bullshit works out and kills a few thousand undead, we’ll be sitting much prettier. However, if you look at the odds, look at my luck, and then weigh that against this being successful, we’re already bent.

  Yawn. I’m tired. Little cranky too. I’ve been a smidge under the weather for a couple days now. Since we returned from the last downtown run really. I didn't sleep well that night, or since. The weather has been drizzly and cold, forming some black ice here and there, and I think the time outside coupled with meeting the new folks over at Spring Meadows has given me a wee bit of the cold. Irritated. I’m just a little sniffly, just a little achy, with a touch of a headache, and a tiny bit of an upset stomach. Just a little irritation, but it's all over. I'm on my man-period.

  I’ve been resting for the last two hours here in my room with Otis. We’re doing well as a team. Otis is buried in my crotch as I lay here on the bed, laptop on my chest, and I have a thermos filled with venison broth made from a deer James dropped yesterday. That was a nice present for us.

  My mind is running a mile a minute and I can't stop it. I’m having a very hard time keeping focused on the things I need to pay attention to. I’ve got a small notebook I stole from the office supplies closet in the administration building that I’ve been writing notes in. I keep double checking to make sure things are getting crossed off in the book, and it is starting to look like more is getting added than crossed off. I am heavily debating popping an Adderall to try and get an edge on it.

  It doesn’t help that my mind is halfway between fear and hope with the tasks directly ahead. I’m scared to find Cassie. I know she’s dead, but HOW dead? Dead and resting dead? Or dead and walking around dead? I’m not sure what’s worse.

  I’m also petrified about Michelle. I really like this woman, and I’m scared of what that means. I’m concerned I’ll hurt her, or get her hurt on this fucking quest of mine. I so want her to not go, but I also know deep down inside… she should be there for this. If this Trinity nonsense means anything, we need to make sure we’re together for the big things, and this feels like a very big thing. The biggest thing. The worst thing.

  I keep thinking too about what Gilbert said on the other side about how Cassie was like, off limits or something. He warned me over and over to not try and contact her when I was down in la-la-land, and like he asked, I never did try and get in touch with her. I knew she was dead, and theoretically just a “call” away, but I was so scared of being confronted by her, and I knew Gilbert wouldn’t have told me not to unless it was vitally important. It was easy in retrospect. I was a coward yet again when it came to her.

  But if evil has her somewhere for safe keeping… then this is very clearly a big thing. This could be my moment. The single event that determines whether or not I fail at this whole “saving humanity” crap. Do you think that's possible, that something so simple, could be so important?

  I’m not sure how to play this. I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I hate the unknown.

  Sigh. I need to man the fuck up here and get my shit done.

  Speaking of shit to get done, I’m going to head to bed. It’s far later than I intended to be up, and we’re heading back into the city tomorrow morning to hit the other parking garage. First up we’re swinging by Spring Meadow to check in with them. They’ve had some additional contact with undead above and beyond what they’re used to, and that’s our fault. We wanted to drop off some bread, some milk, and a few eggs for them. Neighborly gifts and whatnot. Speaking of bread we are getting really low on flour. No solution for that right now.

  After we say hi to them, we’re headed to the parking garage near the hospital and prepping it to blow in a few more days.

  Remember what happened last March 3rd here at Bastion? The hundreds of undead with all the books? The thousands of dead? The strange visions and dreams of Cassie? On the third hour of the third day of the third month?

  If all goes well, I’ll be reaching Cassie’s work by March 3rd. I don’t know what hour I’ll be there at, but if I was a betting man…

  I bet we get there right around three, and won't that change how important I think this will all be?

  Peace Mr. Journal. To spread it, I need to find it inside myself.

  -Adrian

  Cassie

  The car ride to work was always tough in the morning. Fresh from bed, facing the entire day at work, the sun in her eyes the entire way, it was never an easy drive. Cassie attempted to enter the zone every morning, and listen to music until she parked her car at work, letting the ride fade away. Cassie’s phone rang suddenly, scaring her. As she fumbled with her purse near the shifter, fishing the smart phone out, she wondered why she’d been so startled. Adrian always called her at the same time every morning as he drove home from work. She didn’t even have to see his name on the phone to know it was him. It was their routine.

  “Hey baby. Good morning,” Cassie said, her voice still a smidge dreamy. She’d only been awake an hour or so, and she’d forgotten to make coffee at home to boot.

  “Hey. How’d you sleep?” Adrian asked her. He sounded almost as sleepy as her. Sometimes she thought he pretended to sound tired just to try and trick her into turning around and going back to bed with him. He’d be heading home and hopefully straight to bed after his night shift at the private school he worked at. It wasn’t the best job. He could do better if he really applied himself, but it wasn’t the worst either. The pay was decent, the benefits were good, and the drive to work was short.

  “I slept okay. Wish I slept more, but what’s new? How was your night? Monsters sleep through it?” Cassie wasn’t that interested in hearing about his night, but this was their routine and she loved hearing from him before she started her day. His work stories were never interesting. The kids almost always slept fine.

  “Work was fine. Same as usual. Hey did you have the news on while you were getting ready? Did you see all the shit about the attacks and crazy people in Europe and Africa? Asia too I guess.” Adrian’s tone was mildly alarming. Normally he was able to scour the internet at work all night and find the truth about anything. The fact that he seemed unsure of this was weird to her.

  “Yeah I watched some. Looks like bullshit to me, babe. I bet this is some hacker nonsense, or some viral movie promotion from Hollywood. Something some ad executive cooked up to scare the hell out of male horror movie fans in their early 30’s who stay up too late at night.”

  “Ha ha. Funny. I dunno Cass. It looked pretty legit to me. I’m not like, running to the hardware store just yet, but this could be weird. Can you listen to the radio for me during work today? I’m headed to sleep hopefully right when I get home, and if you start to hear that this shit is for real, then you head out. Please? Okay?” Adrian was serious.

  “Yeah no problem. If this turns out to be an actual zombie attack you’re never gonna let me live it down that I don’t like guns in th
e house, are you?” Cassie poked at him.

  “Never. I will harass you until the end of time. Though I won’t regret having never armed your temper tantrums,” Adrian replied teasingly.

  “That’s fair. Alright. I’m coming up to the dead spot, I’m gonna lose you.” It happened every morning in the same valley. Always in that magical place in the middle of the cell tower zones where things went gray for a moment. A space between. Their call was always interrupted. A forced goodbye to end one day, and start another.

  “Alrighty. Be safe, and come home early if you can. Love you.”

  Cassie brushed her bangs back over the top of her ear. “Love you too.”

  It was the last time they’d speak to each other alive.

  *****

  “Hey Cassie do you have the information Alan needs for the DuGuay meeting? He’s having a meltdown because it’s not on his desk,” Cassie’s boss Melanie asked quickly, her head poking over the top of the beige cubicle wall.

  Cassie looked up slowly, drawing out the immediate response Melanie wanted into a long, pregnant reply. Before Cassie’s eyes even reached Melanie’s her boss was already barking out a second request, “Christ Cassie seriously. He’s pissed off and about to take a nitro.”

  Cassie smirked and watched the vein in her boss’ temple throb. “Melanie relax. He’s had the file for three days. It's on his desk. I put it there. If he doesn’t have it right now, then he lost it on his own.” Cassie was frustrated yet again. The damn VPs in this company were morons.

  Melanie looked around at the sprawling farm of cubicles in the office. The large glass windows of the sixth floor were letting in good mid-morning light, and it irritated the mid-level executive. “Can you re-print everything you did? I bet that old fucker lost the file on us. I’d also bet he forgot to even look at the damn report you wrote. Bring it straight to the conference room and bring your coffee. I want you in on this conference call. I need someone who knows it inside and out in the room with me.” Melanie shook her head, clearly pissed at her own boss. The brass always shoveled shit downhill and expected everything to be perfect. She looked at Cassie and wondered how often her own employee thought the same of her.

  “I’m on it Mel. Gimme five minutes. No- wait. Give me eight minutes. I want more coffee first. Nothing is more important than more coffee. He’ll just have to take another nitro,” Cassie said, gathering up her coffee mug and a small yellow legal pad. She grabbed her mouse and started to dig for the file on her computer to print it yet again.

  “I’ll tell him I saw him bring the file home last night and maybe he left it there. That’ll buy you coffee time. Thanks Cass. I hope this doesn’t ruin your day,” Melanie said apologetically. She smiled at her favorite employee and skittered off, trying not to trip in the new heels she’d bought.

  Cassie sighed. She saw this coming. She opened the file she’d prepared about the DuGuay account, sent it to the printer near the conference room, and scooped up her coffee cup. As she walked away she stopped to turn off her little desktop radio. She thought of Adrian, and how he’d asked her to listen to the news today. She sighed softly and hoped he was getting good rest at home. If the world was coming to an end, it was going to start in the conference room for her. Cassie snagged her light sweater and headed out, mentally preparing herself for the hours of mundane meeting ahead.

  She barely noticed the cluster of coworkers surrounding the television in the break room. She also didn’t notice the serious looks on their faces. Somewhere deep in the back of her primitive mind she was reminded of the tragedy of 9/11, but she lost the thought as she scooped up the papers off the printer. Coffee beckoned to her.

  *****

  “Alan it’s right there,” Cassie said quietly, pointing to a small set of numbers buried deep on a spreadsheet she’d spent hours working on. Alan, the absent minded Vice President lowered his glasses to the end of his nose and looked where her finger pointed. He nodded like he'd seen it all along. Cassie and Melanie’s patience for this meeting had long since run out. The meeting about the DuGuay account had gone from the promised and assured fifteen minutes all the way up to the two hours and twenty minute mark they sat at. They were now very late for a lunch they both wanted very much to eat. Both women knew the meeting had been dragged out needlessly due to their boss’ lack of preparation, and unwillingness to figure it out without their help. The two women were caught, no different than a fox with its leg caught in a trap. Cassie knew she'd be the first to gnaw her foot off.

  Cassie listened to the Vice President of her company drone on about returns on investments, and expenditures in foreign markets like an expert. A gray haired but boring expert, but an expert nonetheless. The redhead stood up and quietly plodded over to the small table Melanie had coffee brought in on. Cassie’s earlier recharge had long since run out.

  The carafe’s scent was enough to put a smile back on her face as she poured the dark contents into her mug. As the Ethiopian blend slowly filled her mug she looked out the floor to ceiling glass windows and down to the city streets below. She noticed the flashing street lights first. As her eyes wandered down the yellow line in the center of the street from the light, she noticed multiple vehicles pulled to the side, their doors left hastily ajar. Further down the street she saw an accident at the intersection right at the base of her building, right where the entrance to her offices was.

  The accident was brutal, and her sharp intake of breath attracted the attention of Melanie, still at the conference table behind her. Cassie heard Melanie push her chair back on the thick rug and urgently yet quietly come over to join her at the window.

  Four people crossing the street had been hit by a car. The car was gone, but the human wreckage still lay behind. It must have happened only minutes prior because as they watched, one of the city’s black and white police cruisers pulled into the intersection, blocking traffic in all directions. Its siren was muted through the thick office glass. Of the four bodies arrayed across the street, three were obviously dead. One person’s head was no longer round, broken and battered into multiple indistinct pieces all issuing forth a small river of blood that people trying to help stepped around gingerly. The other two bodies had heads fully intact, but broken limbs and large dark puddles of what only could be blood surrounding them. The single panicked survivor was being attended to by several passersby who stopped to help.

  “Ow, motherfucker!” Cassie said as the black coffee lapped over the top of her mug, burning her fingers. She'd poured too much. She winced and set the mug down, spilling more of the lava-like imported coffee on her already raw fingers. Melanie looked at Cassie’s fingers for a moment and shared a sympathetic look. She turned back to the crash scene below, leaving Cassie to deal with her reddened digits.

  “Do I need to remind you two that there is a teleconference going on here? We’re on speakerphone girls,” Alan said from the long satin finished table. He took his finger off the mute button of the phone as he shook his head in disdain.

  Go fuck yourself, Cassie thought silently. She turned back to the window just as Melanie reached over and clutched at her forearm, covering her mouth in horror with her free hand.

  Cassie looked down to the street, following the line of Mel’s eyes. Her vision landed on the dead body of a young man, previously splayed out in a grotesque manner. Not any longer. The man had sat up, not dead but alive, and he’d attacked the man and woman who had been sitting over him, rendering him first aid. The man helping the accident victim had been bitten severely on the arm, and he’d launched himself backwards and away, clutching at a tattered, torn hole where the inside of his elbow used to be. Blood saturated his pale skin and the khaki pants he wore to work that day. The man’s screams didn’t reach up six floors and through the thick glass, but the look of terror and pain on his face was unmistakable.

  The woman that had been helping the injured man was struggling with him now, wrestling, attempting to hold him still as the newly arrived police officer
took stock of the situation, and radioed in for medical assistance. Even six floors away both women could see the younger cop’s mild panic and confusion as he tried to put two and two together. Just as he finished up with the radio attached to his collar, the woman holding the man down lost her battle. An errant hand that was half balled into a fist struck her in the eye, momentarily dazing her. When she recoiled, defenseless, the injured man grabbed at her, tugging her down and biting her severely over and over. He bit her face shoulder, and neck, tearing away her blouse in the process. The young cop finally reached the terrible assault and grabbed the woman, yanking her away from her assailant.

  The teeth of the man were still lodged in the soft meat of the inside of her arm. A massive lump of bloody pink flesh tore free as the policeman yanked her away. Neither woman could hear the lady’s blood curdling roar. The cop’s noble attempt to save her, doomed her. The artery in her arm had been severed, and a jet of fresh blood sprayed the ground errantly. The cop tumbled to the ground, the dying woman fading quickly on top of him.

  Things went from horrible to completely wretched then. Melanie and Cassie grabbed each other and looked away as the woman and the man quickly turned on the cop and the witnesses gathered around. The officer pulled his weapon out and shot hastily from the hip several times as the man who bit the woman chewed away at the cop's legs and arms. He pulled the trigger rapidly as the dying woman twitched, and spasmed, hitting his intended targets as well as a few of the innocents. None of his shots seemed fatal, despite tearing through the chests of the man scratching and biting at him. As his gun clicked empty, he succumbed to the score of fresh bites on his arms and legs. The small handful of people he’d shot accidentally were either collapsed in the street clutching at their wounds, or were already actively seeking out those around them they could harm. It was like a switch for maliciousness being turned. Death triggering a homicidal rage towards any and all nearby. The woman who died in his arms was already getting to her feet, murder in her eyes.