Zombie Apocalypse: The Chad Halverson Series

by Bryan Cassiday

  Bascomb either ignored or didn’t pick up on Reno’s sarcasm, decided Halverson. In any case, Bascomb gazed imperturbably at the ghoul as it writhed while strapped to the machine.

  Halverson studied the contraption, trying to figure out how it worked. Above the ghoul’s head was suspended a large cube of cement some four feet by four feet. To the side of the cement block was a worm gear that raised and lowered the block down a steel pole onto the tabletop. The whole setup reminded Halverson of a winepress.

  “It looks like cruel and unusual punishment to me,” he said. “I thought there was a law against that.”

  “The infected don’t scream in pain when they’re executed,” mused Bascomb. “On the other hand, the healthy criminals do.”

  “I’m dying of suspense,” deadpanned Reno. “How’s this thing work? I see you have gutters skirting the tabletop. What are they for?”

  “They’re for runoff.”

  “Runoff of what?”

  “The infected don’t bleed, but the uninfected do—quite copiously, actually.”

  Reno turned livid. “The gutters are for blood?”

  “We don’t want the blood to run all over the floor. The gutters channel the blood into the dungeon’s drainage system.”

  “Neat thinking,” murmured Reno, his still face ashen.

  “And then there’s the brain fluid.”

  “I get the picture.”

  “Even the infected leak brain fluid—”

  “That’s enough.”

  “Would you like a demonstration?”

  “No. That’s OK.” Reno felt nauseous just thinking about it.

  “Take a seat and I’ll execute this mass murderer.”

  Halverson, Reno, and the rest of the group sat down on the chairs arrayed to the side of the machine.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” said Reno in the act of reclining. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “No problem,” said Bascomb, who approached the steel pole at the head of the table.

  Halverson figured the steel to be about four inches in diameter, strong enough to support the block of concrete. His stomach felt queasy. He had no desire to sit through this gruesome demonstration. Granted, it was a ghoul that was being executed and not a human, but there was no call for this sickening display.

  Bascomb noted with approval that everybody was seated. “When I press this red plastic button in the pole, the execution will begin.”

  He pressed the button with his thumb.

  The machine hummed to life.

  The worm gear commenced rotating, which lowered the cement block toward the ghoul’s head that was strapped to the tabletop.

  “We don’t need to see anymore,” said Reno. “We get your point.”

  “I want you to be a witness to the execution,” said Bascomb.

  The cement block descended gradually toward the ghoul’s head that was twisting back and forth trying to break free of its bonds.

  “Could you at least speed the machine up and get this over with?” said Reno, shifting restlessly in his seat.

  “I’m afraid not. The machine works at only one speed,” said Bascomb, standing beside it.

  The cement block continued its leisurely and implacable descent toward the ghoul’s head.

  “We’ve seen enough,” said Reno, squirming in his chair.

  “No, you haven’t. This is your fate, the fate of murderers everywhere.”

  “That’s enough, damn it!” cried Reno and bolted to his feet.

  Jones bounded out of his chair and pulled his gun on Reno. “Sit down!”

  Reluctantly, on edge, Reno took his seat. Resigned to his fate, he slumped back and watched the spectacle.

  A minute later the cement block was crushing the hapless ghoul’s head into pulp a fraction of an inch at a time, it seemed to Halverson.

  Despite being shackled, the ghoul’s arms and legs twitched as the block descended.

  It seemed to take forever for the block to finally come to rest. Unable to descend any farther, the block remained motionless against the ghoul’s flattened head beneath it.

  Fluid from the creature’s smashed brain leached out from under the cement block, across the tabletop, and into the gutters that skirted the tabletop.

  “Would anyone care for a glass of wine now?” asked Bascomb.

  Face sweaty, Reno leaned forward and retched.

  Chapter 59

  When Victoria realized she had been locked into her cell, all she could feel was anger. She felt like she had been suckered into this predicament somehow by Bascomb.

  They never should have trusted the guy, she decided. He was obviously a megalomaniac who couldn’t tolerate the slightest criticism. When she first landed here, she could never understand why the Alcatraz residents went along with whatever he said. Now she knew. They were petrified with fear that he would lock them in prison or even execute them.

  Sitting on her bunk Victoria tried to figure out a way to escape her cell. She didn’t like her chances.

  She had to admit she was a looter. She and Halverson had looted the money from the armored truck when they were in LA. She and her companions at the time figured the owners of the money were dead, killed off by the plague. If she and her group didn’t take the money, somebody else would.

  In retrospect she figured she should have left the money behind in LA. Little good had the money done them and much harm, as it turned out. Of course, hindsight was always twenty/twenty. She had no idea back then that she would run into the power-mad Jefferson Bascomb. For sure, she had no idea she would take refuge in Alcatraz, of all places.

  Victoria caught sight of Selena striding down Broadway toward her. Selena looked bent out of shape. Victoria wondered why. She was about to find out.

  “Which do you want first?” asked Selena. “The good news or the bad news?”

  Victoria sighed. “The good news.”

  “There isn’t any good news.”

  “I love your sense of humor.”

  “The boss took Halverson and Reno down into the dungeon,” said Selena, grinding her teeth in agitation.

  Victoria sprang to her feet. This was too much, she decided.

  “Is he executing them?” she asked, worrying her lip. “I thought they were supposed to get a trial, even if it is in a kangaroo court.”

  “I don’t know. He’s never executed anyone without a trial before.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  “I think he took them down there to scare them. He’s big on intimidation and bullying.”

  “That’s a scoop,” Victoria said, her face impassive.

  “I heard him say he was taking them to the dungeon to witness an execution.”

  “Have you ever gone down there?”

  “No,” answered Selena, twitching her fingers. “I don’t ever want to go down there.

  “What next?” said Victoria, fit to be tied.

  She cut her eyes back and forth, feeling like a caged animal.

  “Do you know about Brittany?” asked Selena, glancing over her shoulder making sure Bascomb and his men weren’t around.

  “That she was taken to Bascomb’s house? Yeah, I know.”

  “Not that.”

  “Is there something else?”

  “Brittany’s dead.”

  “What!” cried Victoria so loudly that nearby residents whipped their heads in her direction to check out the source of her outburst, their eyes wide.

  Selena fixed her brown eyes on Victoria and held her forefinger to her lips, shushing her. “The boss and his men killed her because she had the plague.”

  Flabbergasted, Victoria stood speechless. There was too much bad news for her to digest all at the same time.

  At last she said, “Brittany didn’t have the plague.”

  “She got it somehow. The boss says she contracted it before she landed here.”

  “She was fine when we landed. Are you sure she really had the plague? Maybe Basc
omb killed her for some other reason.”

  “I saw her. Her face was decomposing. She had it.”

  “This can’t be happening.”

  “You haven’t heard all of it.”

  Victoria stood dumbfounded. She said nothing.

  “Brittany’s corpse was naked when I saw it,” said Selena.

  Victoria shook her head in bewilderment. “Why would she be naked?”

  “I think the boss molested her.”

  Victoria slouched back toward her bunk. She felt like she had been kicked in the chest by a horse. She plunked down on the bunk and held her head between her hands.

  When she looked up, she said, “If it’s so bad here, why haven’t you ever tried to escape?”

  “To where? The infected are everywhere. There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Any place is better than here, the way you tell it.”

  “Don’t you think I haven’t thought about it? I think about it every day. But I always reach the same conclusion. It’s still better here than anywhere else. The island is the lesser of two evils.”

  Parnell approached them in the cell adjacent to Victoria’s. “I couldn’t help but overhear you two talking.”

  “Can you believe this is happening?” asked Victoria.

  Parnell faced Selena. “You say Bascomb molested Brittany?”

  “Her corpse was naked.”

  “That doesn’t prove he molested her.”

  “He did it to me. Why wouldn’t he do it to her? Why else would she be stark naked when they killed her?”

  Taken aback, Parnell answered, “I didn’t know about his attacking you.”

  “It’s not something I brag about.”

  “How did you escape him?” asked Victoria.

  “He treats women like toys. When he gets bored with you, he lets you go and gets another.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Parnell.

  Selena shrugged. “It’s over.”

  “The thing is, if Brittany had the plague and Bascomb molested her—”

  “Oh my God! Are you saying . . .”

  Parnell nodded. “You can contract the plague from bodily secretions.”

  “How will long will it take before he becomes infected?” asked Victoria.

  “That’s anyone’s guess,” answered Parnell. “I just don’t know enough about the disease to say. But he’ll only contract it if he raped her.”

  “I know he did,” said Selena.

  Chapter 60

  Halverson and Reno ascended the steps from the dungeon with Bascomb and his guards.

  When they reached the landing on Sunrise Alley, Halverson pricked up his ears. The eerie moan of the ghouls was getting on his nerves.

  “They sound louder,” he said.

  Reno shook his head. “Why would they sound louder?”

  “Maybe they’re excited about something,” said Jones, at Reno’s side.

  “That’s not it,” said Halverson. He listened to the ghouls’ weird, unnerving moaning that carried through the foggy night air like the sound of creaking hinges. “They sound like they’re closer.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Bascomb in the lead. “They can’t get any closer than they are on the coastline. They can’t cross the bay.”

  “They do sound closer,” said Jones, cocking his head toward the sound.

  “They’re just louder. That’s all. They can’t be closer. Use your head. How can they be closer?”

  “I don’t know. But they do sound closer.”

  “All right. Take some of your men out on one of the Zodiacs and check it out to set your mind at ease.”

  “We’re gonna have to get awfully close to them to see anything in this fog.”

  “The Zodiacs are equipped with xenon searchlights.”

  “It’s like trying to see through cotton candy out there.”

  “Just do it,” said Bascomb in a voice that brooked no objection.

  Jones glanced at Tattoo Head. “Soros, you’re with me.”

  Jones made tracks for the main entrance to the prison, Tattoo Head on his heels.

  Bascomb and the rest of his guards shepherded Halverson and Reno back to their cells.

  “I hope you two learned something tonight,” Bascomb told Halverson and Reno.

  A guard measuring about six five shoved Halverson into his cell. Sneering, out of sorts, Halverson stumbled into his cage.

  Another guard slammed Reno into his cell.

  “I learned you’re sick,” said Reno, skidding to a halt in the middle of the cramped room and trying to compose himself.

  “I may be sick,” said Bascomb, “but you’ll be dead after your trial for murder.”

  “That sounds like a threat,” said Halverson.

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

  “Well, here’s my promise,” snarled Halverson. “As soon as I get out of here, your life span will be greatly reduced.”

  Bascomb looked amused. “You’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet.”

  He led his clutch of guards away toward Times Square.

  “I’m getting out of this place, even if it kills me,” grumbled Reno.

  “We’re dead if we stay here,” agreed Halverson.

  He caught sight of Selena heading down Broadway toward him.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you two again,” she said as she stood in front of his cell and glanced cursorily at Reno.

  “He’s just trying to intimidate us,” scoffed Reno. “Buttering us up for our execution.”

  “He may not have much longer to live himself.”

  “You can take that to the bank. I’m killing him the first chance I get.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Halverson.

  Selena lowered her voice. “Dr. Parnell thinks the boss has the plague.”

  Halverson did a double take. “Say again.”

  “He contracted it when he molested Brittany.”

  “Serves him right, if it’s true,” said Reno.

  “Maybe there’s some kind of justice in the world after all,” said Selena and crossed her chest.

  “How long does he have before he turns?” asked Halverson.

  “The doctor doesn’t know,” answered Selena.

  “If he turns at all,” said Reno.

  “I don’t see how it helps us one way or the other,” said Halverson. “The bottom line is still the same. We have to get out of here. We can’t just sit around and wait for him to turn. We have to act on the double.”

  “Don’t you see?” said Selena. “When he turns, he’s gonna infect the rest of us, unless we quarantine him.”

  “Or shoot him,” said Halverson.

  “She’s got a point,” said Reno.

  “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

  Reno turned to Selena. “Does Bascomb know he’s got the plague?”

  Selena screwed up her face in thought. “Good question.”

  “If he does know, he might get really batty on us.”

  “I don’t think he knows,” said Halverson.

  “Why not? Can’t he put two and two together? He knows she had the plague when he raped her.”

  “I still don’t think he knows he’s got it.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Reno.

  “He doesn’t look agitated.”

  “Yeah. I guess if you knew you had the plague, you would definitely look agitated. That wouldn’t be something you could hide with dissembling.”

  “So he doesn’t know. Where does that leave us?” asked Selena.

  “It leaves us locked up unless you can get a key to free us,” answered Halverson.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Selena made tracks for the main entrance.

  “I don’t like our chances,” said Reno, watching her leave.

  “We can’t count on her,” said Halverson, looking skeptical.

  Reno ran his hand through
his sparse hair. “What else can we do?”

  Halverson heard the ghouls moaning even louder than before. A shudder went down his spine. “It sounds like they’re right outside.”

  “We’re dead meat if those things somehow get on this island while we’re locked up.”

  “No matter how you cut it we’re dead meat if we stay locked up.”

  “I thought you said you had a plan earlier.”

  Halverson spun around on his heel and gazed at his small sink. “I do.”

  He stepped toward the sink and started kicking the elbow joint in the drain. Several stout kicks dislodged the joint from the pipe, and water gushed out onto the floor.

  “Are you gonna swim out of there?” asked Reno.

  “Call for a guard.”

  Reno shrugged. He had never realized until now how bad prisons smelled. They smelled like giant outhouses.

  “Guard!” he hollered. “Emergency!”

  Halverson felt his feet getting wet in the sluicing, splashing water.

  “Guard!” he yelled.

  “What’s the plan?” Reno asked under his breath.

  The pouring water helped drown out his voice so the CCTV video camera’s mike could not pick up his words.

  Halverson covered his mouth with his hand and whispered amidst the gurgling water, “They’ll have to open my cell to fix the leak. Then we jump them.”

  “Long shot is putting it mildly.”

  “Do you have a better plan?”

  Reno sniggered. “Is this a million-to-one shot or a billion-to-one shot?”

  “It’s the only shot we’ve got at the moment.”

  Reno answered his own question. “More like a shot in the dark.”

  Chapter 61

  AK-47s slung over their shoulders, Jones and Tattoo Head commandeered a Zodiac at the pier and set sail in the fog.

  Jones handled the tiller. Tattoo Head switched on the searchlight and directed its beam ahead of them into the coasting fog banks.

  “This is a great idea sailing into this mess,” complained Tattoo Head, squinting into the fog.

  “You heard what the boss said,” said Jones.

  “What exactly are we doing out here?”

  “We’re doing a recce.”

  “How can we do a recce when we can’t see ten feet ahead of us?”