Zombie Apocalypse: The Chad Halverson Series

by Bryan Cassiday

  “Yes, they were,” said Laslo.

  “Could the vaccine have caused the patients to go crazy and start shooting everybody in sight?”

  Laslo pinched his lips in thought. “I don’t see how.”

  “What was in the serum?”

  “Saline solution. It’s harmless.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.” Laslo paused in thought. “Unless somebody sabotaged the serum.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” said Mellors.

  “Could the serum have side effects?” asked Cole.

  “No,” answered Laslo. “It’s just saline solution.”

  “It couldn’t cause people to feel sick or irritable?”

  “No. Unless the saline solution was replaced by something else.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” said Mellors. “Nobody would benefit from doing such a heinous thing.”

  Cole sighed. “Then we’re back to square one. Why would these Nevada cutthroats, or whoever they are, massacre a bunch of innocent medics who were trying to help them?”

  Nobody spoke for the better part of a minute.

  “The problem is,” said Slocum, “what if this type of thing happens again at other shelters?”

  “It’s inexplicable and despicable,” said Laslo, shaking his head, trying to come to grips with the bloodbath.

  “Maybe we should discontinue the dispensing of the vaccine,” said Mellors.

  “No,” said Cole. “That would infuriate the citizens who haven’t received their doses yet. They would take it out on the government. Then they really would riot.”

  “To stop dispensing the vaccine now would be suicide on our part,” said DNI Molson, who had kept her own counsel up until now.

  “I believe we’re all agreed on that point,” said Cole, checking the faces around the table. “The vaccination program will continue as planned.”

  Mellors thought the program was ill conceived from the get-go, but he held his tongue. It was obvious to him as he took in the faces around him that the others agreed with Cole or were pretending to, which amounted to the same thing. The president continued to back the plan. Anyone who didn’t back it would risk incurring his wrath.

  In point of fact, Mellors knew, the plan was a fiasco. It was a last-ditch attempt by the president to make things appear normal, whereas in reality they were anything but. Mellors was convinced the plan would backfire again, as it already had in the Nevada massacre. As soon as the public found out the vaccine was fake, they would lose all faith in the government and retaliate. Cole’s only hope to remain in power was to prevent the public from tumbling to the hoax.

  “We could withdraw the vaccine and say it needs to be tweaked before we can continue to dispense it,” said Mellors. “Holding back the serum would prevent more massacres.”

  Cole thought about it. “No. Retracting the vaccine would make us look incompetent. If the vaccine wasn’t ready in the first place, why did we jump the gun and start distributing it? The public would demand to know why we screwed up.”

  “Better that than having them find out the vaccine is a hoax.”

  Mellors realized he was pushing his luck by pursuing this conversation, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to say it. Somebody had to say it.

  Cole turned on Mellors. “This discussion is closed.” Cole made a sweeping gesture with both arms that included everybody seated at the conference table. “The distribution of the vaccine continues as scheduled.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Las Vegas

  Quantrill ordered her medical personnel to dispense the vaccine to her constituents in the Mirage’s large auditorium normally used for conventions.

  The people sat in the auditorium seats and when it was their turn to get their inoculations they lined up single file onstage where the doctors and nurses administered the serum.

  “It’s such a relief to know we’re vaccinated against this horrible disease,” Emma told Victoria, who was standing onstage in line behind her.

  “If only they had discovered it sooner, more people would have been saved,” said Victoria.

  Emma hobbled forward in line. “Better late than never.”

  “What’s wrong with your foot?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you limping?”

  “Oh. It’s an ingrown toenail, I think.”

  Even though Emma knew the vaccine would prevent her from coming down with the plague, she didn’t want to confide in Victoria that a ghoul had bitten her. Emma hadn’t told anyone. She hadn’t even told Millie that she’d been bitten.

  “You better have it taken care of or it’ll become infected,” said Victoria.

  When it was her turn in line, Emma asked the doctor, “Will this vaccine prevent the plague from infecting you if you’ve already been bitten by a ghoul?”

  “As long as you get your shot within five days of being bitten, the vaccine should prevent the plague from infecting you,” said the sixtysomething white-haired doctor that was wearing surgical scrubs. “That’s what the medical literature that came with the vaccine said.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Why do you ask? Have you been bitten by one of the infected?” The florid-complexioned doctor scrutinized her face.

  “No,” Emma said quickly. “I was just wondering.”

  She felt like a murder suspect being grilled by the cops. She didn’t want to get rounded up and quarantined with the others that had been bitten.

  “If you were bitten, we still need to quarantine you, vaccine or no vaccine,” said the doctor. “Just as a precaution.”

  Emma changed the subject. “Do babies need to be vaccinated?”

  The doctor used a ball of cotton steeped in alcohol to swab Emma’s upper arm then administered the shot. “Yes.”

  “Then don’t forget doing Millie.”

  “Who’s Millie?”

  “My baby.”

  “Of course. Where is she?” asked the doctor, looking around.

  “In the papoose on my back,” answered Emma, glancing over her shoulder.

  The doctor walked behind Emma and inspected her back. He shook his head in confusion.

  “I don’t see a papoose,” he said.

  Victoria approached him and drew him aside. “Emma lost her baby Millie to the plague,” she whispered. “Emma hasn’t been able to face the truth yet.”

  “I see,” said the doctor, eyes intent. “She needs professional help.”

  “It might be a good idea to humor her.”

  The doctor twisted his mouth in thought and nodded. “I don’t want to traumatize her. You know what they say: time heals all wounds. She’ll snap out of her delusion eventually. And if she doesn’t, tell her to come and see me.”

  “Are you a psychiatrist?”

  “No. But maybe I could prescribe tranquilizers for her. The stress caused by the plague is obviously getting to her.”

  “Her and everyone else.”

  The doctor padded toward Emma, stood behind her, and pretended to administer an inoculation.

  “See what a good girl Millie is, Doctor?” said Emma. “She didn’t even cry when you gave her her shot.”

  “Yes. You’ll both be safe from the virus now,” said the doctor, perspiring and feeling uncomfortable lying to Emma.

  If she didn’t snap out of her denial soon, he would have to treat her. He prepared the next dosage for Victoria.

  Emma was feeling better already. Just getting her vaccine had boosted her spirits. Now she didn’t have to worry about that stupid zombie bite anymore. Even if it did still hurt. Which wasn’t surprising. The vaccine probably took a few hours or even longer to fully kick in, she decided. Maybe even a few weeks. That was how long it took for a flu vaccine to reach its full effectiveness, she knew.

  She descended the stairs at the end of the dais and headed up the aisle toward Halverson, Chogan, and Meers, who were sitting at the back of the auditorium. Victoria caught up wi
th her as the two of them reached the others.

  Emma and Victoria sat down among them.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had it with this place,” said Chogan. “It’s high time we scrammed.”

  “Why?” said Emma. “What’s wrong with being here? We got our shots. We’re safe. We have food and electricity.”

  “She doesn’t know what happened at the shelter,” Halverson told Chogan.

  “Where you got the vaccine?” asked Emma.

  Halverson nodded. “Quantrill and her militia slaughtered all of the medical staff before we left.”

  Emma gasped, raising her hand toward her parted mouth.

  “Why?” said Victoria, dumbstruck.

  “For no reason that we could see,” said Chogan.

  “Did the staff at the shelter attack you?”

  “No way. They gave us our shots like they were supposed to. Then Quantrill ordered them all wasted.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Victoria, eyes wide.

  “The only reason I can figure she did it is because she feared they might track us back to Vegas,” said Halverson.

  “That’s crazy. So what if they followed you back here? What difference does it make?”

  “You have to remember this is a militia and they don’t like the federal government.”

  “But these are medics we’re talking about, not government agents.”

  “The medics were sent by the government, though.”

  “Maybe Quantrill was worried there were spies planted among the medics,” said Chogan.

  Halverson snuck a cursory glance at Chogan to see if he was looking at Halverson when he said “spies.” Halverson wondered if Chogan had somehow tumbled to the fact that Halverson worked for the CIA. But Chogan wasn’t paying any attention to Halverson. Chogan was speaking to Victoria.

  Halverson breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Chogan was speculating. He had no idea about Halverson’s profession.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” said Emma, frustrated. “Why murder a bunch of defenseless doctors whose only crime was trying to help us?”

  “She’ll do anything it takes to stay off the grid,” said Halverson. “She’s probably afraid the feds will commandeer her cushy setup here if they find out about it.”

  “All I know is I want to split,” said Chogan. “If Quantrill’s willing to butcher innocent doctors, what’s to stop her from taking us out?”

  “We don’t work for the government,” said Victoria.

  “What’s to stop her from suspecting that we do?”

  “The truth.”

  “When’s that ever stopped anyone?”

  “The fact is we don’t work for the government, so how can she prove otherwise?”

  Not exactly true, decided Halverson. He worked for the CIA. However, the CIA or somebody in it was for whatever reason trying to terminate him with extreme prejudice by using drones. Which would make him a hero in Quantrill’s eyes probably, but how could he tell her about it without revealing that he worked for the CIA? She might think he was a mole. No, he couldn’t risk telling her about it, he decided.

  “She can prove whatever she damn well wants if she gets the bee in her bonnet to turn against us,” said Chogan.

  “Why should she turn against us?”

  “Who knows with her? It doesn’t take a genius to see she’s half-nuts.”

  Halverson saw no good coming from hanging around here. “We should leave. The sooner the better.”

  It was Meers who said, “What makes you think you can?”

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “What are you talking about, Arnold?” said Victoria at last.

  “The only way you can get out of here is by winning the lottery,” said Meers.

  “What’s to prevent us from just driving out of here?” said Chogan.

  “Las Vegas Boulevard is guarded at both ends by armed soldiers.”

  “Then let’s take a side street.”

  “You’ll head straight into the zombies. They’re all over the area outside the strip.”

  “Then we’ll run them over,” said Chogan, becoming exasperated.

  “There are too many of them. Don’t you think others have tried?”

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’d rather take on the zombies than stay here. This Quantrill could turn on us like a mad dog any moment.”

  “I feel safer here,” said Emma. “We have everything we want here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And Millie likes it here, too.”

  Chogan shook his head irritably. “There is no Millie. Can’t you get that through your thick head?”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say! Why do you hate Millie so much?”

  “Just shut up, Chogan,” said Victoria. “OK? Getting everybody upset isn’t gonna help us.”

  Chogan threw up his hands. “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

  “If winning the lottery’s the only way out, let’s enter the lottery. Maybe we’ll win.”

  “You better hope you don’t,” said Meers.

  “Why?”

  “I’m telling you, the winners disappear off the face of the earth. Haven’t you been listening to me?”

  “I don’t blame them for not coming back here,” said Chogan. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place once I got out of it. It’s run by a bloodthirsty lunatic.”

  “What are the chances we’d all win the lottery anyway?” said Emma. “Slim and none. I say we’re better off here.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you had seen the massacre.”

  Emma winced. Not on account of Chogan’s response but because the wound in her foot was acting up again.

  “You think I’m exaggerating,” said Chogan, noticing her reaction.

  “What’s wrong?” Victoria asked Emma.

  Emma quickly patted her shoulder, dissembling. “My arm feels sore from the shot. That’s all.”

  Halverson watched the queue of residents on the dais receiving their vaccines from the medical personnel. The scene unleashed graphic images in his mind of the blood-soaked slaughter that had taken place at the shelter. He recalled bodies falling and blood jetting across the walls amid cries for help.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said.

  At that moment, Quantrill entered the auditorium escorted by half a dozen of her armed soldiers. She stood and stared at Halverson and his group.

  “Now what?” muttered Chogan.

  CHAPTER 37

  Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center

  President Cole sat behind the large teak desk in his private office. Slocum, Mellors, and General Byrd were sitting facing him.

  “Have you debriefed what’s his name yet?” Cole asked Slocum.

  Slocum’s face registered puzzlement. Then he caught on. “You mean Halverson?”

  “Whatever,” said Cole.

  “He’s off the radar. His satphone isn’t giving off any signals. We don’t know where he is.”

  Cole’s face clouded. “Have you given up finding him?”

  “No. Of course not. We’re still hunting him.” Slocum paused. “I have a feeling he may have contracted the plague.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The last we heard of him he was in California, which is lost to the plague.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. He could have fled to some other state.”

  “But we lost track of him in California.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s dead.” Cole leaned forward in his seat, braced his elbows against the desktop, and balled his hands into fists. “I need physical proof.”

  “The search is still on,” said Slocum, leaning back slightly in his chair but not allowing himself to look mau-maued. “If he’s still alive, we’ll find him.”

  “Even if he’s dead, I want you to find him. He’s one of yours. It’s your responsibility to deal with him and clean up this mess.”

  Slocum pursed his lips briefly at
Cole’s calling him on the carpet. Other than that, Slocum kept his face expressionless, as was his wont as a CIA professional. Cole expected nothing less from him in terms of a response, Slocum knew.

  “It will be done,” said Slocum.

  “It should already be done.”

  The president’s ill temper was induced by the backbreaking stress the plague was exerting on him, decided Slocum. Even Cole’s hair looked greyer than it had been before the outbreak of the plague. Cole’s normally avuncular mien was shattering under the onslaught of circumstances beyond his control.

  The trouble was Slocum wasn’t immune to the effects of stress either, and he didn’t relish being read the riot act in front of Mellors and Byrd. Especially in front of Mellors, who was Slocum’s subordinate. In fact, it was Mellors who was directly in charge of the Halverson blowback, Slocum knew.

  The president had no right to scapegoat him for the mess they were in, Slocum decided. Slocum bridled, but he held his tongue.

  Cole leaned back in his chair and surveyed the compact room, letting Slocum off the hook for now.

  “I wish we had windows in this room,” said Cole.

  “How can we have windows when we’re inside a mountain?” said General Byrd.

  “I know, but I’d like to see what’s going on outside.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t like what you saw, Mr. President. Devastation on an unheard-of scale. People running amok and acting like cannibals.”

  Cole flicked a dismissive wave at Byrd. “I get your point.”

  “What about the thermite bombs, sir? We need to take preemptory action in short order or there’ll be no stopping the infected from taking over.”

  Cole paused in thought. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right, General. Let’s green-light the bombing campaign. How will you deliver the payloads?”

  “We’ll use drones,” said Byrd, all but licking his chops at the idea of putting it to the zombies.

  Cole stared at him.

  Byrd rubbed his cheek with his hand in response.

  “I didn’t know we had drones that could drop bombs,” said Cole.

  “We do, indeed, have drone bombers. They’ve been in development at the navy for several years.”