Zombie Patrol (Walking Plague Trilogy #1)

by J. R. Rain

  Anna’s energy contrasted their lethargy. “Sure! Want me to set the table? Uncle Joe, Dad made your favorite!” She didn’t wait for an answer. Just bounced into the kitchen.

  Joe let down his guard. He leaned back, closed his eyes and drew his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose to soothe an obvious headache.

  “You okay?” I asked. A stupid question.

  “Man, I don’t feel all that great. Hate to say it, but we’re not hungry.”

  Mike indicated his agreement.

  “Helluva time to catch a bug, on leave,” I commented.

  “Yeah. Listen, I hate to be a downer, but do you think we can just crash? I’m sure we’ll be better in the morning.”

  I sighed, and accepted that sometimes things just didn’t turn out as planned, or imagined. I didn’t know at the time what an understatement that was. I’d been looking forward to blowing off some steam, having a few beers, talking football. Brother stuff.

  Instead, I rose. “Of course. Mike can stay in the room next to you. Let me get you some water...”

  “No.” They said it together.

  My concern deepened.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, we don’t need anything, thanks.” Joe seemed to have trouble concentrating. As if this was the first time he’d been there—it wasn’t—he looked around the living room. “Where are the rooms?”

  Puzzled, I pointed to the winding tile stairway. “Upstairs, on the right. Remember?”

  “Yes, on the right,” Joe echoed. He looked blankly down at his duffel bag, then reached for it. The two were definitely sick. I wondered for a brief moment whether they’d contracted some strange virus from overseas or something.

  They moved slowly, methodically, toward the stairs.

  “Sorry, bro.” Joe’s words were distant, soft.

  I maintained my good-host demeanor. “No, no. You two could use a rest. Just go to bed. We’ll catch up in the morning.”

  They were halfway up the stairs when I added, “I’ll bring you some aspirin and water, just in case.” They didn’t seem to hear me.

  Anna came back into the living room. “Table’s set...” She looked around, then up at me. I could see the question mark in her mind.

  “They’re sick, hon,” I said. “They went to bed.”

  “Really? I guess Uncle Joe didn’t look that great. I thought he’d been partying, though.”

  “Listen, Anna. I want you to stay away from them.”

  “Dad, you know I never get sick.”

  “I know. But this might be different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I chose my words carefully, tried to hide the uncanny dread that I felt. “They might just have the flu. But they looked pretty sick to me. I don’t know how they even made it here.”

  Anna knew me, though. We were kindred spirits, uniquely connected. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. But if they’re not better in the morning, I’ll take them to the doctor.”

  Anna did a fairly good job of hiding her disappointment. “Okay.”

  I smiled and ruffled her hair, which she hated but still tolerated. Barely.

  “We can still have dinner,” I announced. “And how about a movie and some popcorn after?”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  Chapter Six

  While Lieutenant Commanders Joseph Carter and Michael Mendoza slept, and Anna and Jack watched movies, the Agent in Black stood at the top of the watchtower at the naval base in Seal Beach. The ocean view did little to calm him. He chain-smoked and berated himself for fucking up. Fucking up in a major way.

  For the last twenty years, he’d prepared for a day like this. He could hardly believe that the day had finally come. In the aftermath of his decision, all of his training appeared to amount to nothing. What had happened to protocol? To sticking to the rules, no matter what? One decision to stray from the rules could amount to inconceivable repercussions. It was his fault. The blame lay on his shoulders, and his alone.

  Not the other Incidents, though. The Agent in Black’s mind displayed the other Incidents on his imaginary whiteboard: a military base in Istanbul was on lockdown; there was minimal communication from the ill. Mexico City was under a quarantine. Incoming information was unclear and probably inaccurate. The Agent in Black was well aware that these were two extremely populated areas on the globe. He deduced that this was no coincidence.

  Two more Incidents had been reported. China, for all its secrecy, had actually contacted Russia for information and possibly aid for “unknown extraterrestrial matter” that had been found. Nigeria had contacted the United States Secret Service in regard to a similar finding. They, in turn, handed the information over to him, the Agent in Black. They had followed protocol, he thought wistfully. He had not.

  All of this was even above top-secret clearance. Only a handful of men were aware of the Incidents. Perhaps the Agent in Black was the only one who was thinking the unthinkable. An attack on the human race from space. Possible global pandemic illness. Probable global destruction of human life.

  He stood atop the tower and watched the calm water shimmer under the peaceful moonlight and tried to think of a solution. All of these Incident sites must be contained. At any cost. He’d spoken with the Secretary of Defense this morning, requesting emergency troops to surround all known areas of contamination. He’d asked for authority to command those troops. The Secretary of Defense had a full plate, what with matters in the Middle East at the moment. The Secretary of Defense would get back to him as soon as possible.

  As soon as possible?

  The Agent in Black shook his head. He’d needed this authority yesterday. He glanced at his watch. He would call the President by midnight if he had to. Others didn’t understand the vast possibilities. The sheer number of unknown factors was staggering. What the Agent in Black did know was that people were getting sick. Apparently, only those in direct contact with the small spheres had become ill. For now. But that could change. Would change. He’d bet the farm on it. He had, after all, been preparing for a moment like this for twenty years.

  But one step at a time, he told himself. The Agent in Black snubbed out a cigarette with his boot. Five hours and thirty-two minutes earlier, Carter and Mendoza had parked at a Mexican fast-food joint. Two of his CREW watched them enter. Did they report the Lieutenant Commanders took their duffel bags inside? No. Did his Crew report anything before waiting an hour to enter the place to search for them? No. The Agent in Black fumed, gripped the rail, knuckles white. A vein bulged, pulsing on his left temple. He knew very well the radius that one person could travel in five hours and now thirty-four minutes. And there were two of them. What if they split up? He was not pleased.

  He didn’t respond to the sound of the tower door closing. He kept silent when his Clone appeared at the rail.

  His Clone was uneasy. The Clone was one of the very few who understood his superior’s deadly temper. He hesitated. Should he speak up or wait to be addressed?

  His boss lit another cigarette. “Well?”

  “Agents are en route to talk with family members.”

  “I was hoping for something new.”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve spoken to Mendoza’s mother. They didn’t cause any alarm or suspicion. She said her son was on leave, but she didn’t expect him for a week. He was supposed to go to Vegas.”

  “Send someone…shit. Send a team to scout Vegas. Assign an emergency team to scout the city.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And the other? Carter? What have you got on him?”

  “Just a brother. A Los Angeles park ranger. Lives at the zoo.”

  The Agent in Black laughed in spite of himself. “He lives at the zoo? How does one live at the zoo?”

  “According to our records, sir, he works at the zoo and the Griffith Observatory. They reserve a bungalow on site for rangers. Two agents are trying to locate him now.”

  “What’s the trouble?”

>   “He patrols the areas. Vast areas of hillside land. They will contact us as soon as they question him. Apparently, he has full custody of a teenage daughter.”

  The Agent in Black considered. The two missing men had to know the consequences of their actions. It could result in court-martial, to say the least. Yet, they did it anyway.

  The Agent in Black’s anger grew. He’d underestimated them. They wouldn’t go home to their families. Vegas, Mexico, up the coast, they could be anywhere. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  His righthand man waited quietly as these thoughts flew through his mind in a fury of heat. The Agent in Black had no way of knowing that Lieutenant Commander Joseph Carter’s brother, Jack, also had a home in Los Feliz, as this house was not in Jack’s name. It was in his ex-wife’s cousin’s name, and she was a rich film producer who’d taken pity on Jack during the divorce. The Los Feliz place was merely an investment for her; a large, Spanish-style home built in the 1920s that accrued equity as time passed. She’d offered it to Jack, so that he could have a home for himself and his daughter. There was no mail, nor a record of any kind that Joe Carter’s brother lived there.

  So the Agent in Black stood there, at the tower, and gritted his teeth. His eyes never wavered from the silver sea.

  “Question the daughter, as well.”

  “Uh…Sir, the daughter is underage…what if this draws attention?”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass if it causes a little attention.”

  “Yes, sir. I was just thinking of the repercussions—”

  The Agent in Black whirled, his face now within an inch of his Clone. “Repercussions? You don’t understand the meaning of the word. I don’t have to tell you what we’re facing here, do I?”

  The Clone shook his head ever so slightly.

  “I’m telling you to talk to that girl. Get her to talk. Interview the father’s co-workers. Get that team out to Vegas now, and put an APB out for both of them. Notify the fucking airlines, trains, bus stations. Christ, what the hell do I pay you for?”

  The sweat on the Clone’s face was the only indication he was petrified. He stood up straight. “Yes, sir.”

  “Find them. Find them and bring them to me. Now!”

  The Clone nodded and left quickly.

  Chapter Seven

  I felt him behind me before I opened my eyes.

  I’d been asleep...but fitfully. Now, as I lay completely still, the full—and highly unusual—realization that my brother was standing in my bedroom fully dawned on me.

  My brother? Was he okay?

  I snapped fully awake and sat up. “Joey?” I asked, using the name most familiar to me. Despite his military acclaim, he would always be Joey to me.

  He stood in my doorway, a dark shadow among other dark shadows. It was him, too, I was sure of it. Too tall to be Mike. I could be wrong—hell, I had to be wrong—but I sensed waves of anger coming from him. Also, as my fitful sleep turned into full comprehension, something else occurred to me: my brother had been watching me sleep.

  And, for some reason, growing more and more angry.

  I hated saying that I put up my guard for my one and only brother, but I switched into defense mode. My gun was under my pillow, and I don’t know how I could think of that, but I did.

  I smiled though, as if nothing was wrong. “Hey, Joey,” I said again, softening my tone. Something was very wrong. I was sure of it. “Are you all right?”

  Now my brother seemed to snap awake. He blinked and shook his head a little. Then he glanced around, as if wondering what he was doing in my room. He was sweating.

  I set my feet on the floor and motioned for him to sit beside me. I really didn’t want to catch whatever he had, but he was my brother, after all. Blood was thicker than water, and all that.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, bro?” I asked.

  Joe muttered something to himself; it was a tendency he had. I couldn’t understand him. He fell silent again, and I was about to speak up when he whispered, “Jack, I have to tell you something. But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

  “I’m good with secrets,” I said.

  This wasn’t my fun-loving, zest-for-life brother. I’d seen him sick before, and he’d always maintained a happy spirit. I was the serious brother. But Joe looked grim now. And more than a little confused.

  “Not a football,” he stated. “I got my words mixed up.”

  “What?”

  “It was the shape of a basketball.”

  “What are you talking about?” I put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked it away.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Jesus, sorry. What about a basketball? Or a football?”

  He jumped up. “I said it was not a football!” He spat into my face. His eyes were sunken, his lips parched. The hatred in those red eyes were horrible to see. Hatred from my own brother?

  I stood as well, tried to calm him. I’d never, ever seen him act like this. “Okay, bro, okay. I’m sorry.”

  Joe took a deep breath. Dragged his hands through his hair. He leaned on a nearby chair and took another big breath. He faced me again, struggling to stay calm.

  “We found something, Jack. Mike and me.”

  I was motionless. I didn’t want to upset him again. “What did you find, Joey?”

  “It came out of the sky,” he continued with a glazed expression. “And we found it. We shouldn’t have touched it.”

  Maybe I’d watched too many horror movies, but a sense of dread came over me. I waited.

  “It was beautiful, like a falling star. But that’s not how they saw it. No. Mike and I found it, but they took it away. It’s a good thing they let us go, too. Otherwise, I would have gone berserk.”

  Jesus, was my brother was losing his mind? Joe was level-headed; he was a lieutenant commander climbing the Navy ranks.

  “I don’t think we should have touched it,” he continued, babbling, “and I don’t think they should have taken it, either. It will make you sick.”

  “Joe...”

  “I didn’t know where to go,” he said miserably. “I can’t think. I could barely think during the interpretation. No. Wrong word. Interrogation. But I’m smart, kind of, you know? I got us out of there.”

  The hole in my gut was widening by the second. I crossed to the window. I expected to find the military car Joe usually drove, but the driveway was empty.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I don’t know. It’s gone. I switched it. Then we walked. So bright outside. Close the drapes.”

  I closed the drapes. I crossed the room in two strides. I didn’t care if he got angry; I took him by the shoulders.

  “What the devil are you talking about, Joe?”

  My brother let out a low, guttural snarl. I wasn’t sure he recognized me. I let go, backed up. He slapped himself in the face, hard, and then took another deep breath that looked painful. Next, he fell to the wooden floor, so hard that the entire house shook. He hugged himself, curled in the fetal position. When he looked up at me, I could see a little of my brother again, just a little, but I’ll never forget the agony in his eyes.

  “Jack! You can’t let me leave here. I don’t want to be locked up and I’m afraid.”

  Now I was afraid, too. Very afraid. But I knew I was the strong one...for now.

  “You need to see a doctor,” I said.

  “No, no! Jack, listen. Don’t you understand? They’ll find me, and they will lock me up. And I’ll go crazy. No, Jack, please. Keep me here. I’m AWOL.”

  “AWOL!” I should have figured it out. “What the hell happened?”

  Instead of answering, my little brother crawled into the corner of my bedroom and would say no more. In fact, he didn’t seem capable of talking.

  Sweet Jesus.

  I stood watching him a moment, as he rocked himself back and forth. I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought of Anna. Sleeping right across from her was his sick buddy, Mike.

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nbsp; * * *

  I grabbed my gun and house keys.

  This old house had those cool, custom keys that would lock doors from both inside and out. I’d never liked them before...but now I was glad. I locked the glass doors to the tiled patio, then stepped out of the bedroom and left my brother Joe in the corner. I turned toward Anna’s room and froze.

  Mike was standing in the middle of the dark hall.

  Chapter Eight

  He didn’t recognize me.

  He just stood there, staring into space.

  I approached cautiously. “Hey, Mike.”

  No response. He stood stone-still. I moved carefully around him and opened Anna’s door. She was sleeping. I thanked the gods for her safety. As I turned to leave, I tripped on the large stone she used as a doorstop. I cursed silently, but it was too late.

  “Dad?” Her sleepy voice carried eerily into the hall. Mike was still standing there, but now his head was cocked to one side like he’d heard something.

  I faced her and put a finger to my lips. Anna saw my gun and drew her covers up tight.

  “Honey, I don’t want to scare you,” I said softly. I slipped into her room and shut the door behind me. I sat down on her bed and kissed her forehead. She would have none of it, though.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered, pulling away.

  I didn’t know what to say. That I was afraid for my daughter because my brother and his Navy buddy seemed to be out of their minds?

  “Anna,” I began, keeping an eye on the closed door. Jesus, what the hell was going on? “Your uncle—and his friend—are ill. I think.”

  “But if they’re just sick, why do you need your gun?” Anna was always observant...and right to the point.

  “I’m just going to make sure you’re safe.”

  We tensed at a scratch on the door. A slight pawing made me bristle—and caused me to squeeze my gun a little tighter. My gun? With my brother and his friend in the house? Maybe I was the one dreaming. Or the one ill. None of this made sense.

  Anna backed into her bed as much as she could, her eyes wide, the color gone from her cheeks. “Daddy, what is that? Is it Uncle Joe? Is he okay?”