by Jack Wallen
Jean drew a vial full of blood from the dead mutant zombie and walked the tube of death over to me. I could see the nerves manifest themselves in the steady streams of sweat pouring down the man’s forehead and cheeks.
“Bethany…”
“Just do it, Jean.” The poor man was about to come undone by fear. There was nothing to be said that could ease his mind, nothing to calm or assure him everything would be all right.
Ironically enough, Jean actually took the time to clean the crook of my arm before he inserted the needle. It seemed to me such a pointless gesture, but I happily appreciated the gentle respect it offered. Finally, when the needle entered my arm it was as if everything around it decided to pause. Time simply ceased to be for a moment. I knew it wasn’t literal, but the fear of the unknown placed a very immediate moratorium on my existence as the foreign blood was released into my body.
I really wasn’t sure what to expect. Would an instant transformation overcome me, or would it be slow and terribly painful?
“You can open your eyes now, Bethany.” Jean placed a warm hand on my arm. His touch was so caring. The man had to have been one of the finest doctors in all of France. “It’s done.”
When my eyes opened they instantly met Jean’s. Tears threatened the floodgates, but none came. Time once again started rushing forward at what seemed like an exponentially fast rate. My life was most likely racing past me to converge on the very moment that would finally see my own personal Hyde come out to play.
“You might suffer a few side effects as the vaccine attempts to fight off the virus. Let’s just hope it’s nothing more than a sulfa-based antibiotic fighting off the flu.”
“You don’t know for sure?” That might have been one of the dumbest questions that has ever dribbled from my mouth. Of course Jean didn’t know for sure! Everything we were doing was well beyond experimentation.
Jean’s voice seemed undercut with fear and sorrow, “I would never have done this without your insistence, Bethany. What we did goes against my very nature. But most of all –” The sorrow began to take control of Jean’s voice as he choked up, “most of all, if the world loses you, it might well lose all hope.”
“Jean, nothing is going to happen to me. I’ve fought moaners, screamers, and…this thing.” I pointed at the monstrosity in front of us to help drive my point home. Although this particular example wasn’t such a strong declaration of my ability to overcome adversity, said adversity would have easily swallowed my head whole had it not been for the inexplicable dead-on aim of Jean, it did serve as a reminder of all that I had overcome.
“But even still, to tempt fate like that? Isn’t that a bit reckless?” Jean offered a halfhearted smile. “We should return to the others before they grow concerned. And you need to lie down and get some rest. I have a feeling you are going to need all of the strength you can muster.”
That last bit had enough ominous tone to fuel every engine in Hell. The goose bumps it brought up on my skin were exacting proof how frightening this all was. I had made myself an undead guinea pig. Suck on that, reality.
Back at the room, everyone was standing or sitting around Mikka’s bed, chatting. It seemed our last surviving patient (not counting myself of course) was showing certain signs of recovery. Mikka was actually eating, drinking, being merry.
When Michelle saw me enter, she rushed over and very tightly wrapped her arms around me. The girl had some serious grip for such a waif. When she pulled back, she gave me a smile that said although she agreed with what I did, she still thought the act was stupid, selfish, and yet still heroic.
Heroic. Not a word anyone would have associated with me until now. Nothing I had ever done was heroic. In fact, to this date, everything I had done was the opposite of heroic. I was a hacker. I worked in the shadows, behind computer monitors and firewalls, attempting to anonymously bring down corporate machines and large business networks. Why? Because I could, and because information longed to be free. Although there are certain circles where that sentiment did elicit heroic imagery, from my current vantage point, my past was nothing more than a stepping stone for much greater things. Unfortunately said greater things involved healing an apocalyptic wound inflicted upon mankind.
My mind needed distraction, otherwise every thought firing across the synapses in my brain would only add to the fear and paranoia that at any moment my personal zombie was going to make her first appearance in this ugly-ass world.
Distraction, sweet distraction…
“If you’re just now tuning into Zombie Radio you missed what might have been the craziest human being to grace the airwaves. Let me recap: This young gentleman who goes by the name Zombie Thrillah calls in to say he wants to be the first human to willingly be infected and transformed into one of the undead on my show. Mr. Thrillah says he has tried every drug known to man and sought every possible thrill available. Apparently becoming a moaner on national broadcast radio is all that is left. To that young man, I have made a decision and here is that decision. Fuck you. Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you and everyone else who might be entertaining any similar ideas. This is not a joke. The world has not become some playground for every sick, twisted fantasy to be made real. We are fighting a war against an enemy the likes of which we have never before seen. This situation is not to be taken lightly. What you see around you, the gray ash covering the ground, the walking dead, the broken bodies littering the streets, the cries and screams for help – that hell is the new reality and it’s not some lame-ass television train wreck for everyone to gawk and laugh at. If you think adding yourself to the rank and file of the undead sounds like a good time, do us all a favor – deep throat a gun barrel and pull the fucking trigger. That’s all I want from the ignorant, unwashed masses. And, for your efforts, I dedicate this lovely ditty by punk princess fronted rock band Paramore, ‘All I Wanted’. Kick it sweets!”
When the music insisted itself upon my ears, I was surprised how much I liked it. I usually wasn’t into post-punk punk bands, especially those fronted by angry little princesses, but this one actually had depth of character that most seem to miss. Askew from my normal modus operandi, I actually allowed myself to close my eyes and let the melody just sink in. The song made me wish I had discovered the little gem during a time when music was more than just a distraction from impending doom.
The song came to a melancholy close, indicating it was time to move on to other tasks, one of which was email. The inbox was crammed with the usual SPAM and fan mail. Who would have ever thought SPAM would outlast the human race? At least the cockroaches will have plenty to read.
One particular email begged for my attention. The sender was none other than Susan’s mother – Senator Slaton. The subject was rather ominous: Trust no one.
The body of the email was no better.
Bethany,
I am writing you as a warning. You have much more than a virus or the undead to fear. What you are doing is counter to what a group of powerful politicians and businessmen are attempting to accomplish. I have tried to subtly inform you, but it seems those warnings went unheeded. I want to be very blunt this time, so there is no confusion. You saved my daughter and I feel it is my duty to return the favor. At this moment a group of mercenaries have been deployed to Paris to stop your work. They have been ordered to stop you at all costs. They will kill you and everyone around you if necessary. Although The Zero Day Collective would rather have you brought in alive, if that is not an option the mercenaries will be ordered to kill on sight. Please understand, I have no connection to this organization, but I am a very connected woman.
Hide yourself, Bethany. Do not let these men find you. The world needs you and your work. And seeing as how you have in your care the one thing on this planet that still holds any meaning to me, I need you safe. If I am to ever see my Susan again, you must disappear. Bless you.
Senator Slaton.
Pieces were starting to fall into place. There had been subtle signs
here and there, but I chose to ignore them. Now it’s all starting to make perfect sense to me and there was one person I knew that had plenty of questions to answer.
“Okay, Zander, what the fuck is going on?” I marched into the room with a gun raised and the barrel pointing directly toward the man whose secrecy was about to be made public.
Everyone immediately scrambled to their feet and as far away from Zander as possible.
“Bethany!” Michelle cried out in surprise.
“Put the gun away, Bethany,” Zander said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.
“I suggest you shitcan the innocence and start telling me what the fuck is going on!” My voice raised to a level far more suited to the anger boiling in my veins.
Zander’s eye narrowed to slits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I stepped closer to Zander so he would know there wasn’t a chance in hell I would miss. “Enough with the lies. I know all about The Zero Day Collective and their plans.”
“What is this all about, Bethany?” Jean’s voice of reason finally spoke up.
“Why don’t you tell them yourself, Zander? Or is that even your real name?”
Not a word from the man a scant few feet from death.
“Start talking you son of a bitch or I will shoot.”
Again, I was met with silence. This time I cocked the barrel of the pistol. I was losing patience fast.
“Okay, okay. Fuck!” Zander broke. His heart was racing and a bead of sweat instantly broke out on his forehead. “I was a plant at the hospital. There were plants all over Paris, instructed to wait for you and, if you arrived, gain your confidence until the extraction team could arrive.”
“What do they want?”
Silence.
“I said, what do they want?” I took another step forward.
“To stop you from developing and spreading the vaccination,” Zander blurted out.
“And where are they located?”
“I don’t know.”
“I would think twice about lying at this point.” I dropped my voice in an attempt to shake Zander up, make him think I was about ready to snap.
Which I was.
The sweat was pouring from Zander and his voice was showing signs of fear. “I really don’t know. Look…before we left the hospital I cut off my communication with them.”
“Why?”
“I am a trained soldier, so I do what I’m ordered and I don’t ask questions. But when I got to know you and saw how much you were willing to sacrifice…it made me reconsider my loyalties.” As Zander spoke, his eyes filled with what I hoped to be honesty.
“Do they know where we are now?”
“Not from me they don’t. Like I said, I broke off communication back at the hospital, and they never received word of our plans. So as far as I know, they have no idea where we are, but they have the means to find out.” Zander’s last sentence was like walking through a space in a room you knew a ghost had just occupied.
Chills.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look, Bethany, you have no idea the power the ZDC wields. They have everything they need: money, arms, soldiers, and they are connected to everyone and everything.” Zander finally lowered his arms.
“Bethany, who is Zander talking about?” Michelle finally broke her silence.
When the full disclosure spilled out of my mouth even I couldn’t believe the story. But there it was, just like out of some bad CGI-heavy Hollywood film, where a Big Brother-like umbrella corporation has some vested interest in spreading the zombie virus across the planet. That was the strange and twisted reality we were dealing with.
Ultimately, the real issue was, were we relatively safe in the new location? The question itself seemed a rather perverse logic to me. The location we chose should always be considered one of the safest of places. Like a church…without the child molestation, homophobia, and sexism.
I turned to my group, dropping the pistol from Zander’s line of sight. I couldn’t answer the question. I didn’t really know if we were safe here. In fact, the more honest question would be how long would we be safe here? There are no more definites. Everything is fragile and temporary. And for some silly reason, I chose to believe Zander’s story. I would probably regret that decision later, but I can’t just allow myself to default to not trusting my fellow man. Besides, if Zander were still communicating with the Zero Day Collective, they would have most likely have already stormed the fort.
“What were your orders if we never arrived?” I said, attempting to gather as much information as I could. If we were not prepared for every possible scenario, we would surely lose this war.
War. Listen to me. Senator Slaton was right, we do have bigger worries than the virus or the undead. We have a war to fight, only we have no idea who our enemies are. It’s time to change that.
“Zander, I need to know absolutely everything you know about the ZDC.” I made sure my tone carried the sense of urgency befitting our situation. I didn’t want there to be any mistaking just how fucked up everything was at the moment. “Who they are, where they are centralized, what means are at their disposal…everything you know.”
“Bethany, it’s not like I was an employee who attended weekly meetings and rubbed elbows with the higher ups. I was nothing more than a contract bloodhound. They point me in the right direction, I find you, I report back. That’s it. It was nothing more than a paycheck to me.” There was no desperation in Zander’s voice. Either he was speaking the absolute truth or was one cold son of a bitch.
“What are the extraction plans?” I wanted to smack him across the face for effect. I refrained. I shouldn’t have. That would have felt really good in the moment.
“Do you hear something?” Michelle interrupted the interrogation.
There really was no questioning what the sound was. The echoing screech clearly indicated our most immediate threat had breached the gates.
“Jean, we forgot to check where that Berserker entered the building, didn’t we?” And right there I named the latest genus of the zombie species.
“No, we didn’t,” Jean said, his voice filled with the very same dread that had just topped off my spinal fluid.
Before we could react the entire building seemed to vibrate.
“Okay, what was that?” Michelle was near panic.
“That was the walls…shaking.” My answer made no sense. I mean, yes, the walls were shaking, but how exactly do granite and marble walls of a century old building shake? Without some form of earthquake, there was no way unless –
A glance out a window confirmed the fear that had so fully gripped my heart it seemed to stop beating. The building we occupied was now surrounded by zombies attempting to gain entry. But why? Had they heard the screams of Susan and the Berserker? Did those screams drive the undead into a frenzy, leading them directly into the heart of our very dark nightmare?
Or was it something altogether different?
“Zander, is there any chance the Zero Day Collective’s extraction process would involve sending an entire city’s population of moaners and screamers in for us?” And just as soon as the question was asked, it was answered.
“What’s that sound?” Michelle once again pointed out the obvious change in our aural landscape.
“That would be the extraction team landing a helicopter on the roof of the building,” Zander admitted.
“Bethany! What do we do?” Jean said urgently.
The answer to the question was simple: We either fight or we hide. I posed that to the gaping mouths facing me, but was met with complete silence.
“Zander, this would be a great time for your input.”
“We won’t defeat that team and they won’t leave until they have upturned every inch of this building. Our only chance is to let our enemies fight it out,” Zander said.
Zander’s idea was brilliant, and our only chance. We allow the zombies entrance to the building. Wit
h thousands of the undead fighting and scraping for brains, the extraction team would be too busy saving their own asses to bother with us.
“Once the team has engaged with the horde, we can make our way up to the roof and take off in their helicopter,” Jean picked up on the idea and added his voice to the plan.
Zander agreed and informed us he could safely fly the bird on the building. I hoped like hell that was nothing more than coincidence.
Something in the back of my mind…
Fuck!
The big question now was how to safely get down to the first floor and let our party guests in?
Crashing.
Roaring.
Question answered.
“Looks like our undead guests have crashed the party.” Everyone in the room, save Zander, seemed to clench every muscle in their body. Go time was now and we had no idea where we were going.
“How do we make it to the roof without getting seen or caught?” Michelle was quite literally shaking, almost violently. I stepped close to her and wrapped my arms around her. I needed her to be strong, but I couldn’t help lend a sympathetic hug.
Zander chimed in. “The team will split up between the stairs and the elevators. Either way we go we’re caught.”
“What about the window?” Jean added.
“That’s all me.” Instantly Michelle stopped shaking, gently shrugged me off, and started to head to the window.
“Michelle?” I barked enough to catch her attention.
“Remember, Mikka and I were on a Parkour team, I can climb anything.”
I tried my best to stop her, but Michelle insisted my idea of nothing to climb was a veritable playground for her ilk. She had a great grin on her face and informed us she was going to climb to the top, tie off a rope, and lower it down to us. There was one problem with her plan – no rope.
“Here’s a better idea,” Zander broke in. “If you can make it to the roof, you can then head down one of the flights of stairs back to this floor. If you can make it back safely, we have our route to the roof.”