The Night

by Steinwachs, Mark

  “Does it matter? Tell me wh—”

  “It matters, Rudolph.”

  I pushed myself up from the table again. There was no anger like before; I couldn’t stay still. I could hear Bosh’s laughter. I wonder if she would be sitting here and not me if she was still alive. I brought my hand up and wiped my eyes with it. I sighed. “Explain it to me, Lee. Just tell me.”

  “I’ve said it already, Rudolph,” he said in his arrogant, self-assured tone. “You are refusing to put it together. You think it will make you a horrible person if you agree with me. It won’t. You will simply understand why I did it.”

  “Fuck you, Lee. I’m done. You never wanted to tell me anything. You wanted to play a game.”

  I turned and took two steps to the door. I grasped the handle and started to turn it. My water bottle hurtled by my head and bounced off the door into the corner. I wheeled around. Lee was standing behind the table, fists clenched.

  “Sit down, Rudolph,” he hissed.

  “A night out at a bar?” I snapped, raising my hand in the air with my index finger up. “A couple of fiction books and you decided to kill millions of people?” I pointed at him. “Bullshit, Lee! Bullshit!”

  I moved back to the table. Both of us leaned over it and I saw his nostrils flare. His eyes were wide, not manic but alive. I was breathing hard. My body tensed once again.

  “Of course it wasn’t only a couple of books. But that night, what we talked about, the way we said things, something stuck. I understood it. Then I really started to look at the world around me.” He sat back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Do you remember any more of our conversation that night?”

  My mind reeled. I thought I had him, but he managed to circle me back. “I don’t think so. I don’t care. Obviously you must, so say it.”

  “It’s not what I said, Rudolph. It’s what you said,” Lee’s head lowered, talking to the tabletop.

  “Something I said? I don’t think so, Lee. I never thought about anything like you’ve done.”

  The words hung there.

  I desperately searched my memory trying to remember what I had said.

  Lee waited.

  I struggled. It wasn’t there.

  Finally he spoke. “I told you we were going to change the world. You smiled and said, ‘Epic events change the world, but it is the quiet moments that change history.’ I will never forget it.”

  I turned away from him and slowly started to walk to my side of the room, rubbing my temple with my left hand, the pressure building up again.

  He spoke, his voice heavy. “Please, Rudolph. I need your help.”

  I bent over and picked up my water bottle. I took a drink from it, still not looking at him.

  “I need you to make the world understand. I cannot. I am a monster, the Devil. You need to be the savior.”

  I turned to him. He was looking at the floor. I slipped onto my chair once more. He didn’t look up.

  “Once I stepped back and looked at the world, I got … got … there are no words. I knew it had to change.” He let out a long breath. “We were manipulating the world around us in ways people couldn’t understand. The geniuses were making it too easy for those that, for lack of a better phrase, were too ignorant to get it. People think they grasp what we do, splicing this gene with that one. We are twisting the fabric of the Earth, bending it to our will. We are about to undo billions of years in the blink of an eye.

  “People wrote about the cyberworld decades before it happened and they were dead on. Soon there will be no money, there won’t even be plastic cards. We are coming to a point where you will be tracked and scanned and barcoded. It’s already happening. All the codes on phones and tablets and computers, we are setting ourselves up. There are only a few that understand how it works. They will be in charge. They will be …”

  He stopped. My mind filled in the blank—gods.

  “That still doesn’t explain why, Lee. Lots of people feel the way you do. Why did you do it? How did you convince China to let you do it?”

  He laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “That’s just it. Lots of people say they feel that way. People say lots of things, but they mean very few of them. They don’t have the belief or conviction at their core to do anything. People cut and paste and regurgitate what they are told to but they don’t actually do anything. I had the conviction. I did something.

  “There are billions of people in this world, too many people for our planet. We surge forward. Faster and faster. Pushing our limits.” He looked at me, his body straight, the introspective voice of moments ago now gone. Once more he went cold. “Too many people live too long. Too many resources are wasted on those that don’t deserve it.”

  I stared at him, wondering if I really heard what I thought I did.

  “Don’t look at me that way, Rudolph. You wanted me to tell you, so I am. This is reality. This is the world we made. Yes, people live too long. Why do we let our infirmed live off of machines in hospitals? Why do we give money to those who run out and use it for drugs? Why do we aid people who contribute nothing to society?”

  “Who are you to decide, Lee?” I said.

  “I am the one who cared enough to do something about it. I am the one who took the first step, to make it right.”

  I slid my chair back, putting more distance between us. “Make it right? By unleashing a plague unlike anything before? You could have killed us all. You killed some of the greatest minds already. You said so yourself.”

  Lee’s eyes danced. “You are so close, Rudolph. You are almost there. Look at the bigger picture.”

  I stood and whipped the open water bottle across the room, the last of its contents spraying the wall. “Dammit, Lee, enough of this shit! So close to what?”

  “This isn’t about you—or me. This is about the human race. This is about evolution. This is about the strongest surviving.”

  I grabbed the table. Unable to stop myself this time, I flipped it over. Lee put his arms up, rolling himself out of his chair. The table connected and I heard him grunt as he hit the ground.

  I stood over him. A genius who thinks he is a god. A man, nothing more than that.

  “Kill me then. Beat me to death, Rudolph. Only God can defeat the Devil.”

  He wanted to die. He’d made himself a walking martyr. Whether it was now or later didn’t matter to him. Even though he was the one on the ground, he was still in control. I didn’t care anymore.

  “It had to be done, Rudolph,” he said as I grabbed his shirt with my left hand.

  I pulled my fist back. He looked up at me and spoke, “You didn’t say I was wrong; you said who was I to decide.”

  His words were so quiet, so cold. So painfully true. I dropped my hand to my side and let him go. He sat up and straightened his glasses, his right arm bleeding and bruised.

  “You are wrong,” I said.

  “If I was wrong you would be gone already. I had to do something. I never set out to create a virus that turned people into zombies. I reached out to the one place I knew I would be given the freedom to work. I made contact with Dr. Zhang and he brought me to his facility. The Chinese gave me everything I asked for. They needed the United States out of the way. I didn’t care why; in the end it wouldn’t matter. I used them like they used me. They got what they wanted, the United States is out of the way. They told me to create. I did.”

  He pushed himself up, standing a few feet away from me, and continued. “As I moved forward with my research I became even more confident. I didn’t set out to create zombies but it made the most sense once I started. I ended up with a 10 percent death rate at initial transmission. I knew some of the top minds would be lost, but not all of them. The slowest to react to the situation would be killed off. The smarter people would find a way to survive. I briefly re-started natural selection. It wasn’t perfect but what first step ever is?”

  “What if it backfired? What if it spread throughout the wor
ld?”

  “The Chinese had their best minds running scenario after scenario. The US reacted as they thought it would: recall all military and try to handle the situation. The rest of the world did what they thought too: slam the doors shut and say you got what you deserved.

  “And now I’ve been captured. I am vilified by the masses. But one day, when the world is better off, those that understand will look back and say I was the one that started it. I took the first step.”

  I crossed my arms. “What did you start, Lee? What is it ‘those that understand’ will look back and say you did?”

  “I made people think. I made the few stand up and take control. I forced them to do what is best for humans to survive. We are not all equal. There are gods that walk the Earth. I am one.” He paused. “You are one. We need to lead for the species to survive.”

  I stepped back and put my hand on the chair to steady myself. My legs began to go numb at the same time the pain behind my eyes started to melt away. Each time Lee spoke he sliced through more of my defenses. He was both right and horribly wrong at the same time.

  He stepped forward and pressed on, sensing my weakness, like a lion stalking his prey. “God can be defined as a superhuman being or a spirit worshiped as having power over nature or human fortunes. I am not worshiped, but you will be. We have powers over nature. We manipulate nature. We control more of it every day. I proved you can control human fortunes. We are gods. You and me.”

  I slumped in my chair. “No … no … you’re wrong.” But there was no conviction in my voice.

  He leaned in close to me, and half-whispered in my ear, “I’m right. You know I’m right. I did what had to be done. I created the epic event. I changed the world. But this quiet moment will change history. You will publicly decry me, like everyone else. You will use the power you have over nature. You will undo what I have done. You will be a god.”

  Lee’s words cut me for the final time. He was right, I was a god. And I would defeat the Devil.

  The New Beginning

  Senator Mendelson walked through the open doors into the assembly hall of the CDC. The room was already full of people milling about, talking and shaking hands. Mendelson was still a marine at his core and years of training took over as he assessed the situation. The room was set up like a movie theater, with rows of seats sloping up, exits at each corner and the two sets of double doors behind him. President Lansing stood down front, talking to a couple of people in white lab coats.

  There were quite a few doctors in the room, but even still, they were outnumbered by people in suits and military uniforms. The one thing missing was media personnel. There were no camera crews or reporters. This was a closed event. President Lansing had been so open with the media over the past decade that their absence put Mendelson on alert. He didn’t know what was about to happen but he felt he was about to be a part of history yet again.

  Mendelson tensed when a hand rested on his shoulder. “Stand down, marine, I’m pretty sure we’re safe in here,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

  Mendelson shook his head as David Warner came around and faced him. “Look at all those stripes on your shoulder. Sergeant Major Warner, congratulations. The youngest ever to reach that rank, too.”

  “Thank you, Senator Mendelson. You probably would have got it before me if you hadn’t decided to go play politics.”

  “I got tired of seeing you every day, Warner. I knew you wouldn’t follow me to DC.”

  Warner smiled. “Damn right, Mend. Even this getup,” he looked at his Alpha uniform, “is better than a suit. Let’s talk after this is over.”

  Mendelson watched his friend walk over to a cluster of military people and join in the conversation. He missed that world but he lived in a new one now.

  President Lansing sat in a seat in the front row and people began to follow his lead all around the auditorium. Mendelson walked to the middle of the room and sat in the last chair of a row, next to a young man in a lab coat. Mendelson put his hand out as he started to sit, “I’m Senator Mendelson. And you are?”

  “Dr. Sato,” he said, shaking the Senator’s hand.

  “Dr. Sato? The Dr. Sato? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  The doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Thank you. I’m Dr. Sato. No ‘the’ needed.”

  “Thank you for all you have done, Doctor. Your efforts have gone above and beyond.”

  Dr. Sato nodded and the lights dimmed before he could say anything else.

  Mendelson turned his attention to the stage. Dr. Rudolph Graham entered from stage left and walked to the wooden podium set on the center edge of the stage. He walked with confidence and command, something Mendelson had seen many times before. Not everyone who led people walked like that, but anyone who did would lead people. Graham looked older than the forty-nine years that he actually was, the few wrinkles around his temples and his salt-and-pepper hair gave him a distinguished look. He stood behind the podium, taking a long moment to scan the room.

  “It happened overnight,” Dr. Graham said, his voice clear. “Everyone always joked that it would happen that way. It was a shock that it did. Happening so quickly was probably one of the two reasons it didn’t completely spread throughout the world.

  “One night. That’s all it took for the world to change. First a person started feeling sick, a spring flu is all. Take a little NyQuil and you’ll be fine in the morning, no big deal. How many spouses do you think said that that night? How many kids were put to bed early by their parents?

  “It was a quiet death. They stopped breathing. That was it. The body simply stopped.

  “Stopped.

  “Then it started again. Just like in the movies. That was the second reason it didn’t spread like it could have. Movies, books, and video games had prepared us for this.

  “There was no other word for it, nothing fancy and scientific. Nothing to make it seem like anything other than what it was.

  “Zombies.

  “Ten percent. Ten percent were turned that night. Think about that. In one night 35 million people died.

  “Died and came back to life.”

  Mendelson straightened in his seat, taking in every word the doctor said. He listened as the doctor covered aspects of The Night that Mendelson never thought about. He wove through the recent history of the United States with such ease and fluidity and an understanding that he made it sound like he lived every event.

  He was surprised when he looked at his watch and noticed two hours had passed. Dr. Graham said, “As we prepare to leave this decade behind us, there are people who say the worst is yet to come. We cannot stop this plague, and eventually a mistake will be made and it will spread throughout the rest of the world. There will be another mutation and this time we won’t contain it. Although, I cannot imagine what else can happen. The virus already lives in each one of us, waiting for us to die so it can live.

  “We did not create this virus but in the eyes of the world it did not matter. Even after proving it was an attack on the United States, many countries still condemn us and say we only have ourselves to blame.”

  Dr. Graham stepped away from the podium as it began to lower under the stage. The curtains behind him slowly opened, revealing a large screen. He continued without pause, his voice stronger than it had been when he started. “We did not create this, but we survived this. They tried to break the United States. They thought we would fracture and tear apart, but we didn’t. We rallied. We came together and came out as a unified country, greater than we have ever been.

  “I will leave you with this video. I hope you feel as I do, that only the strongest nation could survive what we did and the sacrifices made by so many were not in vain.”

  The lights in the room faded all the way out as Dr. Graham left the stage.

  The screen washed the front of the room with light as it came on. There was a man sitting in a hospital bed with an IV line attached to his chest and a telemetry monitor next to him. The
re was a timer running in the corner of the recording, 3-April 13:01:01. 13:01:02. It kept counting up. He looked around the windowless room, only a higher than normal heart rate on the machine giving away any nerves he may have. There was a knock on the door and Drs. Graham, Ayers, and Pasek entered.

  Dr. Graham said, “Mr. McKisson, it is an honor to meet you and I know I speak for everyone involved when I say thank you.” Dr. Graham put out his hand and Mr. McKisson shook it. The doctor continued. “Everything is in order. Are you ready?”

  “I am,” came a slightly shaky reply.

  “I have no words, nor can I comprehend what you must be feeling right now, so I will do my best to move along for you. You know this is being recorded for future use. Would you please state your name, age, and diagnosis?”

  “M-my name is Jackson McKisson. I am thirty-seven years old, and have Stage 4 pancreatic cancer.”

  “And how long were you given before this takes your life?” Dr. Graham said.

  “The doctors told me a month if I were lucky.”

  “And why did you volunteer to come here?”

  “Because I am going to die. I don’t want to turn into a zombie when I do. You told me you can let me die and not turn into one of them.”

  “You will be remembered forever, Mr. McKisson. Godspeed on your journey. Thank you. You are about to receive two injections, the first will hopefully save us all. The second,” he paused, “you will fall asleep and not feel anything. I promise you that.”

  Dr. Graham stepped away from the bed and Dr. Pasek took his spot. “Thank you,” he said softly and injected a small syringe into the IV.

  After a few minutes Dr. Ayers moved forward. “I’m sorry.” He injected his syringe into the IV.

  Mr. McKisson put his hand over Dr. Ayers’. “Don’t be sorry. You have saved us all.”

  He closed his eyes and lay back. The doctors stood near the door, waiting. Mr. McKisson did not open his eyes again. The monitor next to him showed his slowing heart rate.

  The three men left the room. The video kept recording as Mr. McKisson’s heart continued to slow until it stopped. The machine showed flatline at 3-April 13:27:05.