Dead Cities: Adrian's March. Part Four (Adrian's Undead Diary Book 12) by Chris Philbrook

Author:Chris Philbrook [Philbrook, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror
Publisher: Chris Philbrook
Published: 2021-02-21T22:00:00+00:00

-Adrian

October 25th

It was too selfish of me to ask for the ambulance. We’d put so much work into getting it up and running I just couldn’t take it to go to the church. I had no issues with hitching a ride to the fire station, then going on foot from there, but I wouldn’t go the whole way.

Rewind; we returned to the fire station and retrieved the ladder truck on the 23rd. I didn’t write an entry because I was tired. We parked it in one of the warehouses inside our perimeter, nearest to the metal working business so I can get my Mad Max on. They’re working on designing armor and upgrades that’ll give us a tactical edge in high-volume undead environments. They’re predicting 8 to 10 days until it’s ready. The ambulance also needed some extra modifications, based on how we’ve been using it, and how we’re likely to use it. Both vehicles have been under the cutting torch or being welded on since then. It’s a project. I’ve asked for a lot.

But today, we went to the fire station early on. Had to shoot our way through a small number of undead, and we got to use the new push bar on the ambulance to straight on smash down some joggers in the way. It’s not a pure plow blade like the old HRT, it’s more of a brush guard with a projected bar at knee height. Keeps them from getting tangled up in it, and knocks them down pretty efficiently.

At least that’s what today showed us.

We left the fire station for the church immediately. Kevin and I had stayed up late last night going over the plan to get there repeatedly until it was memory. We only had to cross a mile to get there. Back to the A270 roadway, then north on Holmes Avenue. Mostly suburban terrain with houses, small businesses, parks, churches, etc. Proper English suburbs, I reckon.

The Brighton Mile. Not quite Mogadishu, but you know. Kind of like Kevin and I’s Route Irish days. Go as fast as you can, but here, try to also maintain as low a profile as possible. I would’ve gone at night, but with the fog we’ve been having, our NVGs would be rendered useless. This was the best of several bad ideas.

It was not an easy run, and it took far longer than it had any right to. At a trot, the mile should’ve been like… fifteen minutes. We’re in good shape, and traveling relatively light too. Ten minutes could’ve been it.

Took us an hour and change due to the undead.

I won’t lie, and I won’t spend forever giving all the gory details, but we were heading into the forefront of the surge that’s surely coming south. Fifty, at least. Just on the one street. We also had to move very cautiously as we made our way past houses or in one case an intersection that clearly had post-undead fortifications. Last thing Kevin and I wanted to do was get in a tussle with someone armed and hunkered down.

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