Death Squad (Book 3): Zombie Nation

by Dalton, Charlie

  He caught Joe staring. “Don’t worry, Joe. If it turns out to be something serious, you’ll get first dibs on my corpse.”

  Joe groaned. It didn’t sound particularly happy.

  Enough is never enough for some people.

  * * *

  Hawk was aware something was up. He knew the moment he opened his eyes.

  A pinching sensation behind his right eye. It was thick and hard as rock. A phantom hand reached up and tickled his neck. He shook his head and stretched for the patch of skin with the tips of his restrained fingers. He couldn’t reach.

  Nothing was worse than an itch that couldn’t be scratched. And this one resided inside his skull.

  It felt strange, like an alien artifact had been implanted in his head. Had the doctor left something in there by mistake? Had one of her gloves gotten snagged on his skull? He’d heard of such cases before. He never thought he would be one of them.

  If it wasn’t something left behind, was it something that’d been created due to the surgery? He’d been far too relaxed and gung-ho about allowing an unknown doctor to mess with his mind. What else might cause a tingling sensation? A lack of blood flow perhaps? Some kind of obstruction? A clot?

  He thought back to the new blood she’d inserted in his body. It was designed specifically so it would clot, to prevent him from bleeding out. Is that what this tingling was?

  Movement out the corner of his eye. Joe stood in his usual spot in his cage. His shaking head reflected Hawk’s own.

  “Not much fun, is it?” Hawk said. “This undead lark.”

  Joe nodded his head as if he understood. He smacked his lips and a globule of drool ran down his chin.

  “Right. I guess I could have it worse.”

  The sensation behind his right eye intensified. Hawk hissed through his teeth. On one level, it felt good to actually feel something. But why does it always have to be pain? Why couldn’t it be something nice? Why not something below the waist? Now that was worth running an experiment on. Perhaps the good doctor would do him the favor of messing with his junk. Purely for scientific purposes, of course.

  The pinching sensation faded into numbness. As it did, it left a warm fuzzy feeling in its wake.

  He heard what Joe was up to before he saw it.

  “Joe? What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Joe had his hand down his pants. He worked vigorously with a strained expression on his face. More irritation than anything else.

  “Dude! I know you’ve got needs, but do you have to do it here?”

  Joe didn’t stop. He intensified his activity.

  “Joe! Stop!”

  Now Joe looked up. He watched Hawk while he did it.

  “Joe! Stop! Stop right now!”

  Joe stopped. He took his hand out of his pants and slapped himself across the face. The sudden reversal surprised Hawk.

  “Joe? Are you having a breakdown? Don’t worry. We can talk about this.”

  Joe seized the bars and swung his head forward, bashing his head against the bars.

  “Joe! Stop!”

  Hawk was horrified once again. Before, it was gross but funny. A tale to tell the doctor later during the day. This time he was shocked.

  Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

  Joe threw his head against the bars over and over again. One last thud and he fell back against the rear wall of his cage. He slid down them, coming to a stop and sitting hunched over like a chastened child.

  The silence was ominous.

  “Joe? Are you okay?”

  Joe grunted but did not move. He sniffled like a little boy.

  This couldn’t be happening. Surely Joe couldn’t hear him? The thought alone was preposterous. No way he could understand what he was saying. These creatures operated of their own free will, as dictated by their own deep cravings.

  What had Hawk just seen?

  Before he could process his thoughts, the light above the door blinked green and the doors hissed open.

  * * *

  “Doc. Am I glad to see you.”

  Dr. Archer entered carrying her usual cup of coffee. The woman must drink half a dozen a day.

  “Something’s wrong with Joe.”

  It was only when he said it out loud that he realized how ridiculous his statement sounded.

  The doctor looked Joe over. “Besides the fact he’s dead?”

  “He was acting funny. He was trying to kill himself.”

  Hawk could see the thought processing on her face already. Can an undead creature kill itself? It’s already dead, after all.

  Instead, Dr. Archer crouched down to look Joe over. He sat hugging his knees and rocked himself back and forth. His forehead was plastered with his own congealed blood. It stuck like glue to his face.

  “He does look a little put-out, doesn’t he?” she said. “Maybe he misplaced his favorite rock or something.”

  She stood up and dusted off her hands. “How are you feeling, Hawk? Or should I judge the answer based on what you asked me?”

  She doesn’t believe there’s something wrong with the beast. “Joe bashed his head against the cage bars. Something is up. I want him taken out of here.”

  “You want the zombie removed? Sorry, I mean Joe.”

  She’d never heard him use that name before. Now he really looked like a headcase.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just get him out of here. I don’t want to catch whatever’s wrong with him.”

  “By the sound of it, you’ve already caught it. There’s nothing wrong with Joe. He gets a little violent sometimes, that’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all.”

  The truth was, Hawk was more afraid of the effect he thought he had on Joe than the creature itself.

  “If we remove Joe, we’ll replace him with another subject.”

  “Why?”

  “Joe is our control study.”

  “I’m one of a kind, you said. If you want a control subject, you’re bang out of luck.”

  “Which is why we have to utilize the closest thing we have on hand. And that’s Joe. You’ve already gotten used to him. It doesn’t make sense to get rid of him now. Besides, any subjects we bring in will likely be the same.”

  There was that tingling sensation again. Did he want to tell her about what happened or not? Instinctively, he shied away from sharing his inner thoughts with others.

  The doctor filled the lull in conversation. “This might even be normal for them. No one’s spent much time around them before. For obvious reasons.”

  Hawk wasn’t going to win this argument. Joe was staying.

  Dr. Archer drained the last of her coffee and dropped the cup in the bin. She removed her shawl and moved to the lockers at the back of the room and hung it on a hook. “Now, how about we get started on today’s improvements?”

  11.

  TOMMY

  The team marched through what remained of the camp. Emin stamped after the others with her crutches, face curled with rage. “I’m not staying here.”

  “You have to.” Tommy didn’t slow a stitch. “You’ll slow us down.”

  “So, I’ll stay in the car.”

  “We don’t need someone to stay in the car. We need someone who can take action. Guy, help me out here.”

  Guy raised his hands. “Don’t get me involved.”

  Tommy rolled his eyes. “Thanks for your support.”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot,” Emin snapped.

  Guy looked between the two warring factions. How is it my fault?

  Tommy moved around a truck to check the keys were still in the ignition. He found the front wheel had been skewered by a sharp shard of metal.

  “As I’m out in the cold already, I vote Emin comes with us,” Guy said. “Name a time when she didn’t come in handy.”

  Tommy didn’t dare. “I’m the leader. I decide. She’s not coming.”

  “If she’s not going, neither am I.” Jimmy folded his arms and looked up at Emin. He got the
approval he was looking for but it wasn’t the kind of threat that would change Tommy’s mind.

  They marched onto the next vehicle. It was a regular civilian car. A run-around someone used to visit the local shops. In its ignition sat the key. Tommy paused to check the wheels were intact before climbing in behind the steering wheel. The engine wouldn’t start.

  “My trigger finger’s working fine,” Emin said. “I’m going.”

  Tommy got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. “No, you’re not.”

  He turned on his heel and marched around a corner. He looked for another vehicle but couldn’t find one. “Isn’t there a single working vehicle in this place?”

  “The mechanic station was over there,” Guy said, pointing. “Maybe there’ll be something in there.”

  It was a better idea than Tommy had. He took off in the direction of Guy’s pointed finger. Despite Tommy’s insistence that Emin couldn’t keep up with them, she was doing a sterling job so far. She developed a rhythm with her arms and legs, moving more like a spider than a human.

  Tommy rounded the corner, stopped, and braced his hands on his hips. “Great. Just what we need.”

  The zombies crowded the mech yard. Disrupted by the words from Tommy’s throat, they shuffled over, sniffing and snorting at the newcomers. They’d all turned recently. Some had hardly a scratch on them. The team waited patiently as the creatures lost interest and headed away.

  The Death Squad hung a left, coming to the mech yard. The carefully sorted spare parts of a dozen different machines lay scattered around the yard. They’d been disheveled by the recent attack.

  A pair of zombies banged on the doors of the mechanic shed. Tommy opened the doors to let them out. They sniffed the squad before moving on. Inside, a dozen vehicles sat in various states of disrepair.

  Tommy checked one vehicle after another. “I can’t believe it. Nothing’s working in here either.”

  “Hold your horses,” Guy said. “This one looks finished.”

  He appraised the vehicle closest to the door. A Humvee with something large strapped to the back. It was covered with a giant sackcloth.

  Tommy climbed into the front seat and turned the key. The engine roared. A look of elation on Tommy’s face.

  The zombies out in the yard turned toward the noise. They’d need to be quick if they wanted to get out of there before they were swamped.

  The team climbed on-board. Tommy glanced in the rear-view mirror at Emin and Jimmy on the back. “Emin. . .”

  “I won’t slow you down,” Emin said. “If I don’t go with you guys, where am I supposed to go? No one else will accept me.”

  That was true enough. As Walkers, they were trapped between worlds. Neither human nor zombie. If they didn’t stick together, who would?

  “Fine. But keep up. The stakes are too high.”

  “Dude, you won’t see me for dust.”

  Tommy hit the gas. They burst through the swinging doors. A zombie unwisely stumbled in their path. Tommy didn’t slow. The bullbars struck the zombie, knocking it over and running it down. Tommy checked the rearview mirrors. The figure didn’t get up again.

  The Humvee pulled through the narrow alleys at a blistering pace. Zombies reached for them in the light of a new morning. There weren’t enough of them to cause much of a problem. Yet.

  Emin tugged the sackcloth aside, letting it slip to the ground. Like the best magic tricks, it displayed something wonderful. Within her hands was a large mounted gun.

  Emin ran her hands over it. “Oh, come to momma.”

  Perhaps Emin would be a hindrance after all.

  * * *

  The zombies couldn’t help themselves. They reached for them as they passed. They never came within ten feet of the vehicle, and yet still they stretched.

  Once the team hit the open highway, the roads emptied of cars. Tommy pressed the accelerator flat to the floor. The horizon never ended and provided a new vista every time they threatened reaching it.

  The bright orange and yellow of the rising sun cast a haunting halo of the approaching apocalypse as they ventured farther from the Austin military base. The further they got from it, the deeper the weight in the pit of Tommy’s stomach became.

  Get the Failsafe file. Do as it says. The last words of a dying man echoed in his mind. He cast a look at his ragtag team. If we’re humanity’s last hope, God help us all.

  Guy leaned over in his seat. The roar of the engine made conversation difficult. “What do you think the Failsafe is?”

  “No idea. We’ll have to go find out.”

  Tommy spotted the first pair of tail lights of another car ten miles from Austin. The second pair came less than half a mile after that. Soon, the highway was choked with them and Tommy had to swerve to get around them. Tommy took the next slip road.

  “Where are you going?” Guy said. “The city’s that way.”

  “Everyone’s heading for the highway. It’ll get more congested the closer we get to the bigger cities. We have no choice but to take the back roads.”

  Tommy wasn’t the only one to have that idea. As they wound through the quiet country roads, they came upon small clumps of zombies wandering from one noise to another. The only consistent noise came from the continuous drone of the highway.

  Tommy could see the fallout now. The creatures would stumble upon the roads and cars. Drivers would panic, causing accidents.

  It was going to happen, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  * * *

  The undead were drawn to the same farm. A short pop noise told Tommy all he needed to know. A farmer stood on the porch of his house with a shotgun in hand. He pumped it, raised it, and opened fire on another zombie that roamed too close to his property.

  Poor guy. He didn’t realize his attempts to defend his family and home were what would ultimately doom him. Making a noise like that succeeded only in garnering more attention.

  “We have to do something to help him,” Emin said.

  “Our mission is the colonel’s safe,” Tommy said. “Everything else is secondary.”

  “These people are suffering because of our failure,” Emin said.

  Tommy’s foot eased off the accelerator. He shook his head and pressed it again. Emin was right, as she so often was, but he couldn’t allow that to distract from their mission. He would suffer the consequences of his actions later in his dreams, the way he always did.

  Emin turned away from him, exasperated. A moment later, Tommy heard another noise he recognized from his past. A sharp clack followed by a whirring sound. The assault weapon strapped to the back of the truck was coming to life.

  “Emin, no!” Tommy said.

  He was too late. Emin squeezed the trigger. She fired upon the zombies surrounding the farmer and his homestead. The farmer had already run out of shells and used the butt of his rifle to knock the zombies down.

  Emin’s gun was not subtle. It was loud, boisterous and extremely powerful. The zombies lay in bloody puddles within seconds. The farmer moved between them, bringing the butt of his rifle down on those who had survived the onslaught.

  The farmer waved. Emin waved back, a beaming grin on her face.

  “You bought them a little time, Emin,” Tommy said. “Nothing more.”

  “Then it was effort well spent.”

  Tommy shifted down a gear. He couldn’t help the smile that creased his lips. At least they’d done a little good on their journey.

  12.

  SAM

  The day began the same way it always did. With the lights turning green and the door hissing open. Then the steady thud of the guard’s boots approaching her bed. Sam was slow to swing her legs over the side.

  She blinked like an owl and looked up at the tall soldier. As always, he was bright and alert. Each day, their correspondence was one-sided. Sam took it upon herself to initiate, carry out, and conclude all conversations they shared.

  Sam led the way down the corridor.
“How was your evening? I had a thrilling night. I went to the cinema and watched the latest summer action blockbuster. Do you like action movies? I guess you do. I mean, it’s your line of work, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be the must-see action film of the year. To be honest, I believe it. I’ve never seen so many explosions.”

  She threw a glance over her shoulder. The guard’s expression was blank. “After the movie, we went to get pizza. A pepperoni topping with a nice big glass of Coke. Are you more of a Coke or Pepsi man?” She cast another glance in his direction. She met the same stony expression. “You look more like a Pepsi man to me. Slightly contrarian, with a sweet tooth. Am I right? Silence means yes.”

  He didn’t reply.

  Sam beamed triumphantly. “I knew it.”

  They turned a corner and proceeded in the direction of the research room. “You know, it’ll be a lot easier for us to develop our friendship if we knew each other’s names. I’m Sam. Nice to meet you. I’m going to call you. . . Julius. What do you think of that? You don’t like it? Well, tough. This is my hallucination and I’ll call you whatever I want. You ought to be careful though, Julius. People with your name tend to get the worst friends. That reminds me. We also had a Caesar salad with the pizza. It had extra chicken and cheese sprinkled on top. It was delicious.”

  She came to a stop before the research door and waited for him to slide his key card across the terminal. He didn’t. Instead, he nodded in the direction of the corridor behind her. It was the same direction they usually headed for the shower.

  “A shower?” Sam said. “I get two now?”

  Julius didn’t reply, but his stern expression lent a sinister undertone.

  Sam proceeded down the hall and was about to turn left when Julius spoke up. “Straight on.”

  Now Sam was very nervous. All joviality and playfulness seeped out of her. She looked at the guard again. “Straight on? Julius, where are we going?”

  The proof would be in the pudding, she realized. Her stomach twisted. She hoped Julius wasn’t playing with her. But knowing Julius’s nature, she rather doubted that.

  * * *

  Did Julius clock her taking the needle yesterday? Or someone working the terminal, watching the cameras? She felt sick. She should have listened to Felix. What did she think she was doing? What had she gained? A single sliver of metal she would never use. How could she be so stupid?