Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3

by Craig Halloran

  Henry wanted to choke something. It was absurd. Stupid. Ridiculous. He stuck his glasses on his head.

  “This earns a full scholarship to higher education these days? Picking out shoes with zombies? Wandering around doing absolutely nothing?”

  “Don’t knock it. It’s a dream come true for these kids. They grew up with the zombies. We didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well if our generation was as smart as our parents’ generation, we would have terminated them. All of them.”

  “Sssh,” Jo Ann said, whipping her head around. “Don’t let them hear that. They’ll get upset about it.”

  “Good,” Henry said, walking away. Disgusting. He made his way up to Tori and Karen. “Here, let me yell for him.” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Rudy! Ziggy gave the all clear!”

  “What?” Karen said, making a funny look at him.

  “It’s a safe word. A nerd thing.”

  “Obviously.”

  Ten seconds later Rudy appeared, flushed and disheveled.

  “Way to go, Coward,” Tori said.

  “Well, what did you do?”

  “Alright,” Jo Ann said, “the tour’s over. Let’s get you guys into headquarters. We’re almost there.”

  They came to a walled off store space with a Security Door in the middle. A small red LED light glowed below the green one. It gave Henry chills every time he saw one.

  “We’ll get your security set up first,” Jo Ann said, placing her thumb on the scanner.

  Nothing happened.

  She pressed her thumb on it again. Nothing.

  “Great,” she said. “Must be updating the system again. Karen, do you mind?”

  Karen pressed her thumb on it. Nothing. The lights in the mall flickered.

  “Was it storming when you guys came in?” Jo Ann said.

  “No, but the rain was steady,” Henry said.

  Something popped, like a transformer. The lights flickered and went out.

  Num-num. Num-num. Num-num.

  CHAPTER 19

  -Washington, D.C.-

  He hurt. He wheezed. Coughed and sputtered. Don Baker hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. Not since the training. Decades ago. He used to be one tough SOB. Now he was old. Shaky. Scared. Suck it up.

  Everyone faced him. Walker fingered the pistol on his hip. Oliver glowered with his arms folded over his chest. The woman rubbed the shot gun on her lap. And the zombie boy’s tongue rolled around in its mouth as it said Num-Num. It made him want to vomit.

  “Can you at least take this collar off?” Don asked. “Let me feel like a human for one more day.”

  Nate pushed Louie a little closer.

  “I bet he would’ve liked more days as a human too. Ever wonder what being a zombie feels like? I’ve read reports that they’re in pain all the time. What do you think, Don?”

  He turned his head away from Louie. He didn’t think about such things. He couldn’t afford to have compassion. Compassion made you weak in his business. A minnow among the sharks. He’d been a shark until they left him in the box with Louie. The undead child frightened the Hell out of him. Dark dead eyes. Strong pasty hands brushing against him. Jaws clicking and snapping. It wasn’t natural. He’d vomited in there. The thought of turning into one of them was horrifying. Did men like me really enable this madness?

  “I’ll talk, I said. My word. Just don’t put me back in with that thing.”

  “His name’s Louie,” Ashley said. She pumped the handle on her shot gun. “Got it?”

  Don pushed his hand out.

  “Yes, Little Lady. I’ve got it.”

  Nate nodded to Oliver, who reached over and unlocked the collar.

  “Oh,” Don said, rolling and rubbing his neck. “Thank you.” He sighed. “I’m seeing this in a new light now. Would you mind scooting him away?”

  Ashley rolled Louie back and turned him away.

  “Num num.”

  Nate held the laptop in front of Don’s eyes. Started one of the videos.

  “Where is this?” Nate asked Don. “And what is Henry Bawkula doing there?”

  Walker kicked his chair. Don flinched.

  “And don’t forget about Ravenloft.” He poked him in the tender area below his swelling eye.

  Don sucked through his teeth. Wincing.

  “I didn’t even know about that. My nephew showed me those soldiers for the first time. I was only up to speed with the rehab centers. This was entirely new.” He huffed a laugh. “And I know you won’t believe me, but I’m not on board with the zombies. I swear it. But they aren’t going to stop with those things.”

  “What about Henry?” Nate said.

  “Huh, yeah. Well, he survived … again.”

  “What do you mean, again?”

  “He’s a loose end. His father, or stepfather I think, Stanley Logan, invented a serum in hopes of curing or helping the zombies maybe live some sort of life. It was silly. Souls, assuming they exist, don’t come back. They’re either in Heaven or trapped in the abyss.” He shrugged. “That’s what my priest said.” He swallowed. “Long ago.”

  “Just get on with it,” Walker said.

  “There’s not that much to get on with. They want to use the zombies as super soldiers of sorts. The serum Stanley Logan created sped their metabolism up. Reflexes. They can climb. Run faster. Their bodies are remote controlled now. WHS wired up their nervous systems to control them. This picture, all shaky, but clear,” he poked the screen. “That’s the zombie’s eyes you’re seeing through. Jack played it like some sick video game.”

  Walker backed off. Stood by Nate. “Shit.”

  ***

  Nate balled up his fist. Got up. Sat back down.

  Dammit!

  The old man started talking again.

  “Yea, and you guys want to go up against this. Stop this. You’re crazy.”

  “So, no one is supposed to do anything?” Nate said, “Sit around and wait and hope you’re one of the ones chosen to die in some dickhead’s video game?”

  Don’s eyes, always bright and vibrant, were dull. Guilty even.

  “It was never supposed to be this way. When I started, it was all about National Security.”

  Walker and Oliver laughed.

  “Or Human Rights Violations,” Oliver said. “Peace Keeping missions. Ha! Different names, same M.O.”

  “Well we kept plenty of people safe. Got our hands dirty and saved a lot of lives.”

  “By turning them into zombies,” Nate said.

  “That never was the plan,” Don argued.

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe that was always the plan?”

  Don turned a little green. He wanted to say no, Nate could feel it. The old man just curled his lips instead. Nate could see it in the man’s eyes. The truth Don believed in came full circle now. Layers of lies covering the dark and dirty truth. The people behind all of this weren’t humanitarians. They were evil. Plain and simple.

  “Where’d they take Henry Bawkula?” Nate said.

  “There are facilities everywhere. He could be at any of them. Probably still at the Rehab.” Don sat up in his chair. Draped his arm over the backrest. “You guys should make a clean break. We all should. Listen, they won’t trust me anymore. I’m as good as dead, just like you. I know places. We can go there. Live our lives out in peace.”

  “Or pieces,” Walker said. “Ash, I think he wants to play with Louie again.”

  “Look, I’m just trying to save us all a lot of pain. This won’t end well. Honestly. How big is your little network of rebels,” Don said, “a couple dozen? You’re going up against thousands with unlimited resources.”

  “We have plenty,” Walker said.

  Nate nodded. He didn’t know much about the help they had. Walker told him bits and pieces but there was plenty left to discuss. He said the less he knew the better. The fewer of them, the more likely they could surprise someone. But how could such a small operation take on a global o
rganization?

  “Plenty?” Don shook his head. “Well, I hope you’re paying them well. The more you have, the less you can trust. Someone is always going to spill the beans. Rat you out. Tell their wife, mistress or best friend.”

  Nate wiped his clammy hands on his pants. Looked at Ashley and the others. Could he really trust them? Maybe the WHS was behind all of this. Setting him up. Play it through, Nate. Play it through. Stay focused.

  “Where’s Henry Bawkula?”

  “Might still be at the Rehab—”

  “No,” Walker interrupted. “We want Ravenloft.”

  “Hey!” Nate said.

  “Sorry about your friend, Nate. But he’s not the mission. Ravenloft is. Capiche?”

  Nate eyed him. Took a breath. He couldn’t abandon all his plans on account of his friend.

  “Well,” Don said, “I can’t tell you much about either of them. Really. Ravenloft does like to oversee some of the operations first hand. If they’re doing some new testing with the zombies, and you found out where, there’s always a chance he might be there. The only other option is to wait him out at his home or attack him at one of the zombie meetings. You’d need an army for that though. And I don’t think killing him will stop any of this.”

  “But he’d make the call?” Nate said. “He’d order the next Zombie Outbreak?”

  “Yes, he would. But if it’s not him, then one of us will. Or one of them? Don’t you see how juvenile your plan is? Killing or interrogating Ravenloft won’t stop this thing. It might slow it, but it won’t stop it.”

  “Exposing it. Exposing him,” Nate said. “That should be more than enough to do it. When the people find out that the WHS is behind this, they’ll shut it down.”

  Don leaned forward in his chair.

  “Suppose you get it all out there. Who do you think they’ll believe? The WHS or a bunch of nobody renegades?”

  Nate felt himself being painted into the corner. How many times had he seen the truth crushed by lies, money and power? The plan was thin. He felt stupid. He felt compelled, too. He loved sports. There were upsets in sports. Plenty of stories of David beating Goliath. Immaculate Receptions and Seventy Yard Field Goals. The unknown philosopher had said, ‘Only the ridiculous achieve the impossible.’ Besides, they were all going to die one day anyway. Might as well try to do something meaningful.

  “You know what, Don?” Nate said, getting up, “I think we’re just going to try and kill him and let the chips fall where they may.” He looked at Oliver and pointed to the trailer door. Nodded at Walker.

  Walker snapped the collar back on Don’s neck.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Oliver jerked Don out of his chair and dragged him over to the trailer. Shoved him up the stairs and in the door.

  “Ashley, our guest needs more time with Louie.”

  “Well, he’ll be hungry again soon,” she said, unbuckling Louis’s restraints. “Those Dew bottles were watered down. They won’t hold him more than an hour.”

  “Good.”

  CHAPTER 20

  -Location Unknown-

  One. Two. Three … Charles pressed enter.

  The liter’s murky grey saliva and the blue XT Formula pumped into Rod’s veins. The sacks emptied. His body jerked on the table. Chest heaved up and bucked.

  “Shit!” Jake said, jumping back.

  Charles checked the vital sign monitor. The heart rate spiked over 300 BMP. The blood pressure didn’t register. Rod’s body jumped all over the table. Fingers stretched and curled. Biceps bulged and strained. Metal groaned with every jerk and flinch.

  Jake pulled out his .45 Auto.

  “Put that up!” Charles yelled. “He won’t break loose!”

  “Yeah? Well I’m not taking any chances in case he does.”

  Charles’s eyes were intent on the vitals monitor.

  The BMP spiked. 370.390.415.

  He could feel his own heart beat inside his ears. Don’t die, dammit. He’d tried this before on others. Many hearts ruptured, leaving the zombies useless or completely dead. So he had altered the formula. Altered the doses. The process was still new, however. Come on. Needs to work. Needs to work. He ran his sleeve across his brow.

  395.330.273.

  The convulsing body went still. Fingers slack. Head sagged onto the table.

  185.130.88

  Charles crossed his fingers.

  Jake holstered his weapon.

  75.68.59.58.

  “Oh, he’s stabilizing!” Charles jumped. “He’s steady!”

  32.20.12.

  “Noooo!” He screamed at the monitor, clutching at the hairs on his head. “Come on, Jake! Shoot him with more XT.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it!”

  Brrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…

  The heart monitor flat lined.

  The blood pressure monitors fell to zero just as Jake hooked the other IV in.

  “Too late now,” Jake said. “But I can try the paddles.”

  Charles pounded his fists on the table.

  “No! No! No!”

  He fell back into his seat.

  “Just leave it,” he sighed. “Don’t need to waste any more of it.”

  He’d wasted enough already and his superiors would notice. He’d already abused his allotment and he didn’t have any results to show for it. None. All he needed was a little bit of movement. Some promise. Brain activity. He eyed the screen. In the upper right corner was a diagram of brain activity. A rainbow of colors still resided in the middle.

  “What have we here?”

  Bip. Bip.

  The heart monitor spiked.

  BPM started moving. Charles sat and gawped.

  12.20.32.32.32.32

  He checked the other monitor and watched the man on the table. His fingers moved gently. The head rolled side to side.

  “He’s breathing,” Jake said. “Blood pressure shows 59 over 30. Are you seeing this?”

  32.30.32.30.30.30.32.32.32 …

  “Yes! Yes, Jake! The Black Python lives!”

  Charles covered his chest with his hand. His heart pounded. This was the breakthrough he needed. This was what he’d been sweating his ass off in a wretched basement filled with rotting zombies for. This was his ticket to a seat at the table. The Table. He watched the diagnostic monitor. Blood pressure, steady. Pulse, steady. Brain function, active. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. Now everyone will know my name.

  “Let’s give it a few more minutes, Jake. As you hillbillies like to say, ‘Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch.’”

  “Fine by me,” Jake said. The big man holstered his pistol and took a spot leaning against the wall.

  Charles’s wildest fantasies began to run wild. If all went well this would mean more funding. More staff. More power. They’d give Charles everything he wanted. He spun around in his chair once. Circled again and stopped. Steve still sat with his head tilted, watching the TV screen.

  “There just might be some hope for you yet, Steve. Well, maybe not among the living, but I see a bright future for you as a parking attendant.” He held his belly and laughed. “No, seriously. You might be the ultimate weapon out in the field one day.” He clapped his hands. “Damn, I’m good. We just might have to celebrate.” He turned his attention back to the monitors. Jotted down some notes on some papers.

  He could see the big man on the table struggle with his bonds. His jaws started snapping.

  Hmmm. He rubbed his chin. Vitals still steady. He zoomed the camera in for a closer look. The skin on the black man’s face grew taut. Its luster began to dry. Darting eyes started to sink.

  “Helluva way to murder a man,” Charles heard Jake say.

  “Well, he doesn’t look dead to me. He looks amazing.”

  The purple veins began to bulge beneath Rod’s skin. The Black Python flexed, stretching the leather straps that bound him. The gurney groaned.

  �
��Shit,” Jake said. “I think he’s hungry.”

  “Wait!” Charles said, “Just give it a few seconds. Those straps are wired. They monitor his strength.” He fingered the keys and pulled up another diagnostic that measured the zombie’s power. On average, zombies were twice as strong as a typical human. A good deal stronger than the fittest man. Rod was reading double the strongest zombies. “Beautiful!”

  “What?”

  The gurney groaned again.

  “What?” Jake said again. “Geez, we need to feed him!”

  “Alright, hold on,” Charles said. He punched a few more keys. The Zombie Dew formula injected. “Try not to wet your pants, Jock for Brains. He should calm down any moment.”

  Jake gave him the finger.

  Charles huffed a laugh. Locked his fingers over his belly.

  “Great comeback.”

  Thirty seconds later, Rod, The Black Python, was still. Listless.

  Charles kept his eye on the diagnostic monitors for a few more minutes. Wow. Steady as she goes. It’s going to be a wonderful life, Charles.

  “Alright, Jake. Let’s roll him into recovery and have them prep him for Phase 2. Start getting the other soldiers ready.” He stretched his arms and yawned. Brought up a new image on Monitor 3. A small group of people huddled by a door inside the mall with worried looks on their faces. “The new lab rats have arrived. Heh, heh, heh.”

  CHAPTER 21

  -Morgantown, WV-

  The group of zombies filtered by, dragging their feet over the floor. Jo Ann and Karen still worked at the lock. Failure after failure.

  “I don’t like this, Henry,” Tori said.

  “Me either.”

  There was always something. The modified facilities never worked the way they should have. The elevators stalled. The Security Doors failed. The computers glitched. It almost seemed as if everything was set up to fail. Old buildings remodeled and reconfigured on limited budgets in compressed time frames. That’s how the WHS was. They didn’t want these things right. They wanted them right now.

  “What’s the plan in case of an emergency, Jo Ann?” Henry asked, eyeing the zombies. He was trying to figure out which ones were real and which ones were fake. “Suppose a zombie goes on a frenzy or there’s an accident and the cameras are out? Are there any emergency exits?”