by Jack Wallen
Finally Susan spoke words that actually seemed to fit her age. The mere mention of “cute tutors” had brought her back down to earth.
A loud crashing noise ripped us from our conversation.
“What was that?” Susan begged nervously.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to wait around to find out.”
Instinctively, I grabbed Susan and hauled her into the mouth of an alley, away from the direction of the noise which was growing ever louder. At first the sound was nothing more than a collection of rattles and the clanging and clanking of metal. But when the metallic symphony ceased, a wave of roaring began. Even louder and fiercer than the scream I had encountered earlier, the roaring was like nothing I had ever heard.
Another tremendous roar filled the sky.
“Oh, my God! What was that?” Susan’s voice was loud enough to be heard, so it was too loud.
I shushed the young girl right before another spine-shrinking roar invaded the space around us.
“Jacob!” Again, Susan spoke loudly.
“Susan, be quiet. Whatever it is, we can’t let it hear us.”
Another prehistoric roar.
After a moment of deafening silence, the thing made itself visible. Its barrel chest heaved with each loud, wet breath it took. I wanted to say it looked just like the rest of the moaners, but I couldn’t. This one looked like it had pulled itself straight out of Hollywood. The skin was the same color as the rest of the moaners I had encountered, but that skin was stretched tight over rippling and bulging muscles that threatened to snap the very bones that held the thing upright. We could have easily have been staring at a professional body-builder whose steroids had been replaced by an experimental, rage-inducing drug.
All I could think was ‘holy shit’ as I looked on at the ferocity of what was probably nothing but pure killing machine.
“Jacob, what in the heck is it?”
The beast started punching cars and kicking trash cans. Every so often it would stop, sniff the air, and look around, only to go back to its punching, kicking, and roaring.
Finally the thing must have grown bored because it sped off in another direction.
“It’s leaving.”
“Oh, my God. That was so… that was the scariest thing I have ever seen. Jacob, please tell me we won’t see more of those things.”
I was afraid we’d just witnessed a much angrier breed of moaner. That thing was inhuman. I realized the very idea that humans were coming back from the dead was inhuman. But that… that was burning rage stuffed inside a pustular, decaying human body whose only purpose was to destroy. It smashed fists through metal car doors and kicked trash cans like an NFL placekicker would kick a football. I’m sure it would have pulled the heads off the elderly and ripped nuns in half if any could have been found. That was evolution gone terribly wrong. The human race had finally become prey to a very unnatural predator, a predator that looked and moved differently than the other undead. Whereas the moaners seemed to sway back and forth with little to no direction, this one knew exactly what it wanted―to destroy.
“What was that?” Susan asked, her arms tightly wrapped around my arm.
“A screamer,” I said flatly, as if in the speaking I had full naming rights. “Yeah, moaners and screamers.” In one poorly worded sentence, I had defined the new landscape of the human race.
We crept out of the alley as the sound of the screamer trailed off into the distance.
“I hope I never hear that sound again.” Susan said, looking around.
I couldn’t agree with her more. The sounds of war were no match for the maddening rage of the screamer. I hoped the recordings I made survived so that someone can actually hear what my words cannot describe.
“There it is!” Susan screeched with glee.
I knew before it happened that Susan was about to take off running. I quickly grabbed her by the belt and held tight.
“W-T-F?” Susan turned back to me with an incredulous look on her face.
“You were about to sprint into a big unknown, full of who-knows-what, only to find yourself you-can-guess. That’s W-T-F!”
“Whatever.”
Ah, life’s little reminder of why I had never had kids. The very fact that reason and logic so often escaped them ensured I would never be able to fully communicate with the little ones. Fortunately, it didn’t take much to convince Susan that if we stayed together, she stayed alive. I think the distant howling in the background had a little to do with the convincing. I felt the strain on her belt going slack.
“I just want to see my dad.” Within the span of a heartbeat, Susan went from teen to ten.
“Then what are we waiting for?” I started walking in hopes that my desperate attempt to pick up her spirits would work. I quickly realized I had no idea which building we needed.
“The one with the big banner.” Susan read my mind as she pointed over my head.
The building was surrounded by cameramen, reporters, media types, the rich, police, and military―all of which were dead. At least, I hoped they were dead. It would suck to get caught in the middle of that mob only to have each and every one of them reanimate and have a taste of Jacob with a side of Susan.
The only way to describe the scene was “horrific.” And I didn’t necessarily mean “frightening.” I felt like I had somehow been taken out of reality and transplanted onto the set of some horror movie as surreal as anything King or Barker could dream up. And from the surreality a newer, truer horror was born.
The stillness and sudden silence made me very aware of how vulnerable we were. Any second a moaner or screamer could crawl out of the pile of death surrounding us and pull us into a new circle of Hell, Dante’s Inferno turned inside out.
“Here we are.” Susan’s voice tore through my inner monologue and stopped me at the base of a huge set of concrete stairs leading to the building’s entrance.
The building was a living legacy to World War II era Nazi Germany. Cold, monolithic stone walls with Gothic ornamentation stood before us. No iron crosses or SS symbols, but militant-looking statues, and heaven-high, flat-front walls beckoned us to enter. The architecture was epic for sure. Staring up at the building sent chills down my spine as I imagined the horrors it had seen in its youth. Would those horrors stand up to the sights it currently cast its gaze upon?
I placed one foot on the stone stairs and―I woke up on the ground with Susan smacking my face.
“Jacob! Oh, my God! Jacob, are you okay?”
“Wh―what happened?” My head was swimming with confusion and a leftover pain that stabbed at the base of my skull.
“You just collapsed. No warning, no sound. You just hit the ground.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not even long enough to say you were out. It was like someone just shut you off for a second.”
I reached out a hand to get help from Susan.
“Wait, are you sure you should stand so soon?” Her concern was endearing, but unwarranted.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Thank you, Susan.” Again, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I felt weak and nauseous; the last thing that young woman needed was to lose the only hope of protection she had…at least until I managed to get her to her father.
“Let’s go.” I tugged her into the building.
Chapter 8: Daddy Dearest
One by one, we ascended the steps until we reached the entrance. The doors to the building stood wide open, inviting us inside to see the sights. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see the pleasures it had to offer. But we were this close to the answers we so desperately needed.
“On with the show.” My thoughts crept out of my mouth. I hoped the ‘show’ was a massive letdown. Unless there was a man behind a curtain ready to put Susan and me on a balloon ride back to the States, I really didn’t care to come across another human at Ground Zero. Assuming, of course, this really was Ground Zero. That was also assuming there were other humans left―humans not intere
sted in me for my brains.
“The room is at the end of this hall,” Susan whispered.
“You mean the hall that’s lined with dead bodies?” I returned the whisper.
“Yeah, that one.”
That little exchange made my day, in a painfully sarcastic way.
“Maybe we should find another way into the room. One that isn’t filled with…you know, them.” I gestured to the multitude of bodies on the floor.
“They’re all dead.” Susan’s voice was cold and pointed.
“Yeah…well, so was the one that punched through the car door.” I thought that little memory might stop her in her tracks.
“I’m going on. And so are you.” Susan grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the mass grave.
My stomach felt liquid, like so much slop in a wet canvas bag. I was fairly certain the 360-degree panorama of death was causing me to want to fold inside out and toss my innards all over a wall. Susan must have sensed my trepidation because she edged me on with a few sharp tugs. We walked like that, in silence, until we came to a doorway.
“Here it is!” Susan pulled me through the doorway, which led into a rather larger auditorium. Unfortunately, the phrase ‘out of the frying pan’ instantly sprang to mind.
Even through the dusky darkness of the theatre, it was clear that almost every seat contained a body, a dead body. At least, I hoped they were dead. That, in and of itself, was disturbing; I was actually hoping for a room full of death.
“Dad!” Susan yelled. Her voice reverberated for what seemed like minutes.
I grabbed Susan from behind and covered her mouth with my hand. “Don’t do that again,” I whispered. “Whatever it is they are, they can hear. The last thing we need is to be in a room this size filled with dead people that might not stay dead.”
I reassured Susan we’d find her father. Of course, she nodded her head in capitulation. But before I could say another word, she jerked out of my grip and bolted for the stage. The girl was intent on getting us killed. I had no choice but to take off after her. Being young had its advantages. One of those advantages was that age had yet to slow down the legs. Susan made it to the front of the stage before I was halfway down the aisle. She jumped up onto the stage and ran right to the center.
When I finally made it to the lip of the stage, I quickly realized why Susan had sped off. Lying center stage was a prone body which Susan was kneeling over. The body was a man in a lab coat. Two and two was easy math at this point.
“He’s still alive!”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. All this death, and the one person most likely to be in the eye of the hurricane was still kicking? I leaped onto the stage and hurried to kneel beside Susan.
The man’s eyes flickered open and fell upon the young girl kneeling over him. He didn’t seem to know her at first, but I watched as recognition finally dawned.
“Susan! How did you―?” Doctor Godwin’s voice was raspy and weak.
“I stayed at the hotel, just like you said. And it happened, just like you said. Now I’m here, and you’re alive. I was so afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
I wasn’t sure I was hearing correctly. “What did you mean it happened ‘just like he said’?”
I was being ignored. I didn’t like it. “What did you―?”
“I heard you the first time,” Susan spat.
“Then answer the question.”
“I can’t.” Susan turned to me with a severe look of anger on her face.
“You can’t, or you won’t?” I pushed.
“She can’t answer your question because she doesn’t know the answer.” The raspy voice spoke, every word sounding strangely stronger than the previous. “My daughter only knew of the danger, she did not know the intent.”
I was lost. Utterly. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I will tell you everything if you will turn off the device attached to that microphone.”
“What microphone?”
“Do not take me for a fool, sir. I know a recording device when I see one, and I will not go on the record for anything at this moment.”
“The recorder stays on. I’m using it in case I forget certain events and facts. You have a story to tell, and there might still be an audience alive wanting to know what happened.”
“You must be a reporter. Only reporters and scientists care so much for the truth. But as for my story, they cannot ever know. No one can.” Godwin was finding strength I couldn’t believe he had.
“So there are people alive somewhere?”
“Of course, there are people alive. You think the intent of my device was to decimate the entire population of the planet? That was never the goal.” He grunted as he rose to a standing position.
“Then what was the purpose? What was the machine meant to do?”
“The purpose of the machine―”
“Don’t say anything,” Susan interrupted.
“The purpose―”
“Don’t!”
“Susan, dear, please. The man is right; someone should know. It is best the truth be recorded, even if only as a precaution.” He brushed off his coat and stood facing me.
“The purpose of this machine was eradication. A purging, if you will.”
“Of what?”
“Of certain…ethnicities.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing the words correctly. “What? Are you talking genocide?”
“If you must give it a name, then yes―genocide.”
“But why?”
“It doesn’t matter why. It didn’t work. Something went wrong.” There was an undertone of shame in his voice.
“What do you mean it didn’t work? Have you bothered to look around you? If this is what you call ‘not working,’ then we have to redefine death. Just look out at your audience; they’re all dead.”
“Not all of them. I have already had to defend myself against a number of…” Something caused the man to stop. Was he withholding some deeper, darker secret from me?
“Of what? What are those things?”
“That is really quite simple. They are reanimated corpses. Somehow the process of cellular decay was reversed in some cases, but only to the point where the body regains lower functions.” Godwin spoke clinically, as if he were diagnosing a common disease.
“And what about you? Me? Susan? How did we survive?”
A palpable silence overcame the room.
“I asked you a question.” My voice was more forceful than I intended.
“Susan and I have each undergone a series of immunizations. As for you, well, I have no idea.”
“Why did you create this machine?” I asked.
“I only developed the science behind the machine. Although I am the creator, I was not behind the creation. I guess you could say I was coerced into the project.”
“How? By who?”
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is our safety. And if I am correct, our safety is not exactly a given at this point in time.”
Another dreadful silence.
“May I ask you a question now?” Godwin asked.
“Of course.”
“What happened to your cheek?”
“Oh…it…nothing. It was an accident. I fell and landed on a pile of broken glass.” The lies were piling up.
“Are you quite certain of that?”
I had no idea why I didn’t tell him what had happened. I was mostly afraid I would be told that a bite from one of those things was fatal. I was in no mood to die, not after everything I had been through, and especially not after finding out all of this destruction was in the name of genocide. That information had to get back to the States, one way or another.
I had to make sure the mad doctor and his brainiac daughter didn’t have a chance to plot my demise.
“Can this thing reverse the effects?” I was pretty sure the question was laughable at best, but I had to ask.
“No. This elegant creation
was very singular in purpose. As for the effects? I assumed them to be irreversible, or so I thought….” Godwin was still a bit unsteady, but it seemed his thinking was coherent.
“What you do mean, so I thought?” His trailing of the last phrase left hope dangling. I didn’t want hope to be dangling. I wanted hope to be held aloft on a pedestal so that all could see it and be inspired enough to beat these lousy moaners and screamers back to where they came from, which was death, as redundant as that was.
The doctor was attempting to stand on wobbly legs. He managed to make it upright before he spoke. “I mean I was fairly confident the process was irreversible. That confidence allowed me to follow through with the project. Judging from what I have seen, the device was a complete success.”
I wasn’t so sure I would draw the same conclusion. “And is the sky filled with ash part of your experiment?”
The doctor’s eyes nearly tripled in size. “What do you mean?” He was obviously taken off guard.
I stood and hopped off the front of the stage. “Maybe it’s best if you see for yourself.” After all, how could I truly explain the dismal blanket filling the sky?
Susan helped her father to the stage-right steps. Judging by the way he was walking, he had taken a serious beating, or possibly he was involved in a major moaner attack. I had a feeling the man wouldn’t spill his guts any time soon, literally or figuratively.
“By the way, my name is Jacob Plummer.”
“Doctor Lindsay Godwin.” The good doctor held out a hand in good faith. The least I could do was accept the offer of civility, since the man was honest about his name. Besides, I needed him on my side if I had any plans on surviving our little apocalypse.
Hoping not to run into any moaners or screamers, we carefully made our way to the hall. We were lucky and made it all the way back to the entrance without incident. When Doctor Godwin laid eyes on the still-falling ash, things took a turn for the worse.
“Oh, dear God in heaven. This cannot be.” His eyes remained locked on the falling matter. It was as if his brain disconnected from reality for a moment, and his world centered on inventorying every single flake of ash.