Cassie (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 8) (16 page)

The ripping fire from the light machine guns sounded like the earth and sky being torn in half. We’d been firing the nearly silent suppressed weapons the entire time and when those loud ass fully auto guns started barking… Mr. Journal I tell you it sounded like God himself had started tearing the storm clouds from the sky and throwing them down on us from on high. The effect on the encroaching plague of undead was immediate and devastating. The bodies started crumbling to the ground with exploded skulls like a violent tidal wave. Just ten seconds of accurate, intense fire from the two men with the turret mounted support weapons annihilated the danger. I felt so powerful as they let up on the triggers, leaving a few mangled, twitching bodies in their wake. The exterior security people were then able to move into the crowd, and finish the wounded undead off with halligans.

We returned the interior to help emptying the pharmacy.

About fifty more undead visited our location while we continued to fill and remove containers of pills, fluids, and medical supplies. Everything was handled. We are very much set for basic medications for some time. Shit, we could start a meth lab with all the shit we got there.
 

After packing everything into the back of the humvees, we rolled out fast, and went back for our radio, still suspended from the traffic light in the middle of the intersection near the radio. A light rain had started, and when we arrived at intersection, the visibility was getting bad. It also didn’t help that it was late afternoon, and the sun was setting on us.

The intersection was entirely filled with a tightly packed HORDE of undead. There were no less than four hundred undead there. I guarantee you Mr. Journal there were at least four or five hundred. It was horrifying in the worst way. I haven’t seen that many undead mobbed in one place in a damn long time. Not since Bastion was laid siege to back in March of last year. We rolled up on them and came to a halt about a hundred yards away.
 

I hit my throat mic and said one word quietly, “SAWs.” It took maybe five seconds for Hal and Hector to get their guns up and firing. The mob of undead had turned in our direction by then and were starting to shamble our way. Sadly for them, they were no match for 800+ rounds per minute out of two barrels. Hal and Hector were accurate enough that they were hitting at head level consistently, and the bodies hit the freshly packed flat snow like tipped over grave stones. Both men had to load fresh belts of ammo, which tells you they were firing for quite some time. I’m sure a lot of those were misses, but with that overwhelming amount of 5.56mm flying out into a crowd that packed in, you KNOW they were mostly hits. You can't miss in those conditions. You might not kill, but you can't miss.

It took all day for that crowd of undead to form, and it took us three minutes to put every fucking body in that crowd face down in the fresh red and gray snow. It gave me some hope that one day we might be able to actually clear the fucking city once and for all. We just need about… 125,000 rounds of ammunition and some armor plated vehicles.

No problem.

We drove over the dead bodies, retrieved our radio from the traffic light, and took a wide route home through empty neighborhoods and areas that have long since been abandoned. We didn’t want to be followed home by someone with ill intentions, especially while so many of us are still sick.

We were greeted like epic heroes of old. Then we got down to work emptying the vehicles, getting the medicine stored away properly, and getting the fresh IV bags double checked, and into the still sick. Things are bad with them, but like wilting plants, they spruced up within an hour or two of having the fresh fluids inside them. Crazy how that works.

I’m wiped. I can't hear shit. Just this WEEEE noise. I’ll say things are still shitty here, despite our good fortunes in the city’s edge. People are still depressed, withdrawn, scared, and disturbed by the deaths the other night, and it’s only by the virtue of Michelle, Melissa, and Kim, and our terrific haul downtown that folks are keeping it together.

I’m hoping our supplies last us for a bit so we can focus on getting somewhat back to normal.
 

Normal.

Ha.

-Adrian

February 7
^th

I’ve been very overwhelmed by life of late. It’s almost as if the little things have started to pileup so high they’re finally surrounding me. I feel…

Trapped.

I think my priorities are fucked. The things that should matter most today as I write this are the things that are not on my mind. I am bothered substantially by some shit Michelle said last night, and not by the strife and turmoil that has enveloped my people here. I think I’m being selfish again. I don’t know quite what to do, or where to start. It sucks being a drama queen.

Our trip into the very edge of the city was a phenomenal success. No one was hurt, we got the supplies we so desperately needed, and we put down hundreds and hundreds of undead in the process. It could not be a more impressive victory on our part.

Our sick have stabilized and are now getting better. The IV fluids and medicine Ethan and Joel are pumping into them have returned them to life. They’re still in the clinic, under armed guard and constant medical care, but all signs as of today point that they are going to survive. Another clear victory on our part.

We’ve posted as heavy a guard as we could since we returned, and our long circuit home that led past the Factory hasn’t brought anyone back to our location. The security cameras there as well as the people there haven’t seen anyone following our tracks. We also ran back past MGR, so we had multiple places watching our trail. No one followed us, no undead seemed to have followed us, so once more it appears that we scored a victory.

We have held our ground on the morale issues. Alex is still very withdrawn and sad over the death of George. Poor guy must’ve been so in love, and seeing him mope around, lonely and alone is murderous. The same can be said for Martin. Martin’s sadness and his dedication to being a father to little Chester right now is heart breaking. The kid is torn up over his mom dying, and Martin is torn up over watching his son. On a selfish note, without Martin’s labor and how-to knowledge, there is a lot of shit that’s not being done right now. However, I just can’t get myself to the point where I ask him to get back to work. I just can’t ask him to put everyone else before his grief, and before his son. I know I should be pushing him, but I can't.

Jeanette is struggling with the loss of her baby boy. There’s nothing I can say that’s more impactful than that.

I don’t even want to go into the other people right now. It’s just total crap.
 

Having said all that, after our return a few days ago we decided to have an event to celebrate our achievement, and mourn the loss of the dead. Basically we wanted a large gathering to give us a reason to eat, drink, and attempt to be merry.

It didn’t make much sense in a logistical way though. Food has been tight, and even with all my jokes that our food consumption “got better” from all our bad luck of late, we are still stretched a little thin. Having a party where we indulge and overeat and drink is stupid. However, trying to bring us all back together and a little happier is a bigger deal. We are running the risk of dying of emotional starvation long before we physically starve.

Michelle led the charge on this, and she did a great job. She decorated the cafeteria, organized everyone (even the sad and distraught), got the food and drink ready, and made sure everyone showed up on time and was as ready as they could be to have a good time. Michelle even somehow found the time to light a large candle for each of the dead. I don’t know where she found all those thick white pillar candles, but there was one for every person who died the other day. They were lined up on a table, off to the side, silently flickering, reminding everyone of why we were there last night, and why it was important to celebrate their lives, instead of just being sad, and hurt. Less mourning, more celebration.

The shindig was awkward. It felt forced, and a little contrived to me, but with so many ex military guys, it all starts to come together when the booze, beer and wine sets in. Old Army stories come out, brothers in arms share tales of their boot camp woes, and then we get to this point where we all sit around quietly near each other, heads hung low, and start to really remember someone. You talk about how they laughed, how they cried, moments when they stood by you, no matter the danger or the stupidity, and you remember just how fucking much someone really means to you. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean they don’t still mean something to you. It makes me realize how much I love my friend Kevin. Being with him at the party last night and reminiscing about old times, and listening to him talk with his crew about the death of Jaden and Roger and Kyle made me realize how much I enjoyed our times in the Army together.

That’s neither here nor there. I’m still hung up on the real issue that’s bothering me.

A handful of us got completely plastered. You’ve probably gotten that much out of my disorganized ramblings.
 

I was just about three sheets to the wind when I caught Michelle’s eye from across the room. She was watching me talk to Kevin I think, and I raised a can of beer to her and nodded. Sort of a “tip my cap” to her moment. She’d done a decent job at getting this going. Immediately she got up and started over towards us, and despite being pretty fucking drunk, I remember her being really tipsy as she crossed the floor with the music playing out of some kid's shit stereo a little too loud. Kevin managed to stray away just as she showed up, and that left Michelle and I standing there, more than a little awkwardly.

She and I talked for a few drunken minutes about the party, and how bad things were, and how she hoped that this would bond everyone, and give us a collective “chance to mourn.” Which I should say she said in a very drunken, yet professional manner. Long pauses to say very calculated things. I'm sure you've been there.

Somewhere after that, not too long after, but also not exactly the next thing, we managed to walk over to a side cafeteria table and sit down. Then she starts asking me, “What my plan for myself,” was. I can’t exactly… you know... remember what I answered her, having a head swimming with booze at the time, but I remember going on and on about how I was worried about doing the wrong thing, and how I felt like I had to “make things right” for all my mistakes and shit, and she sat there, staring at me intently. Then out of the blue she reaches up, gives me this… sweet and awkward caress on the cheek, leans in and gives me a kiss. It wasn’t quite on the cheek, nor was it on the mouth. It was… I don’t know. Affectionate and also innocent at the same time. I remember being totally shocked as she pulled away slowly, looking at me.
 

I can’t tell you a damn thing in detail about the shit us guys talked about last night, but I will remember the words she said to me next until the day I am old and grey. Michelle sat there, hands in her lap, looking me dead in the eye, and she starts talking without taking a pause.

“Adrian I was told by many that you and I would fall in love. They said we’d be together, and when we first met I thought about how wrong they were. You are rough, raw, vulgar. Your actions can be rash, and your heart sometimes makes you do the wrong thing. But now that I know you, I see you for who you are. I see the sweet man who wants to be there for those he cares for, and to protect anyone he can, despite how dangerous it might be to him. I have watched that man struggle with the weight of leading, and the crushing weight of his own guilt. Adrian I’ve talked to people about you and your story. I’ve heard how you hate yourself over what you did. How you hate yourself over leaving your girlfriend behind.”

I remember feeling flush. Michelle stood up at that point, and caressed my cheek again, holding her warm palm against the cool skin of my face, “Adrian I’m falling in love with you. Not because of some prophecy, or just because God wants it that way, but because you are a tremendous man that I want to learn more about, and to be closer to. I see you for you the man you are, and the man you can become. But until you get closure on her, and until you forgive yourself fully for what happened with Cassie, there’s simply no room in your heart for anyone, especially not me.”

And she left.

I don’t even know what to do about this.

-Adrian

February 9
^th

I think Michelle was right. She’s rarely wrong. I’m not saying she was right simply because she’s rarely wrong, that should be clarified. She’s right because she’s right. I’ve never given myself closure on the whole Cassie thing.

I need to move on. I need to forgive myself. I need to understand that despite my mistake that day, I am a person that deserves to enjoy his life. I deserve to love again. I deserve to give Cassie’s memory rest and peace if only in my own mind.
 

I just don’t know how to go about doing that.

It’s on my mind now though. On my radar like a goal for Bastion. Something I WILL achieve, not something I will discard, or put off forever.

What does throw me for a hardcore loop is the whole “I’m supposed to fall in love with you” story Michelle gave me. Who the fuck says that? I haven’t slept good since that night, and I haven’t really seen her either. She’s been avoiding me, and I’ve been avoiding her. Feels very high school. I don’t think she ever intended to tell me about that, and in her alcohol haze it came out.

Mind fuck, am I right? Like, serious fuck with your head bullshit. I look at her in an entirely different light now. I used to think she was pretty, and intelligent, and warm and caring and wholesome and all those things that I see as unattainable. I see her as someone that I could ruin, instead of someone that could make me a better person in the long run. I don’t see her as someone I could make happy.