by Jack Wallen
The engine wouldn’t comply with the turn of the key, even with Sam angrily pounding his fist on the dash.
“What do we do now?” Sellers cursed.
Sam scanned the area, looking for another car they could commandeer. About a block away a yellow taxi cab had been abandoned. If the keys were in the ignition, they would be in luck. No keys? No luck. Simple, beautiful logic.
When Sam pointed out the cab, Dom didn’t hesitate to fling open his door, leap out and hit the ground running. No one in the BMW could believe the speed the kid could produce. It took the running back seconds to cover the ground between the two cars.
Dom made it to the taxi unscathed. And just as he flashed the lights to indicate all was clear, a group of Moaners descended on car and man. Dom turned the ignition and decided to take advantage of the size difference between zombie and taxi. The first of the group crushed easily under the metal machine. The bulk of the Moaners wouldn’t go down so easily. Dom put the taxi in reverse to put some distance between himself and the Moaners. He’d need plenty of speed in order to plow through the collection of walking dead.
The taxi’s shifter slid into drive and the gas pedal happily met the floorboard. The car roared forward and mowed over the remaining zombies, crushing bone and muscle under the tires. The young running back didn’t want to admit to the thrill the kill gave him. He was accustomed to plowing over and through bodies, but not with intent to literally kill. Careful not to leave anything to chance, Dom backed up and over the undead again. After slowly rolling over the bodies one final time, there was no doubt the undead were now completely, and utterly, dead.
Dom pulled the taxi up so its nose nearly touched that of the still-smoking BMW, then hopped out and began unloading equipment and dumping it into the trunk of the new ride. It took the man no time to switch all of the weapons from one trunk to another. While Dom took care of the cargo, the other passengers migrated from the dead BMW to the living taxi cab. As the lid of the trunk was slammed shut, the sounds of Screamers filled the sky around them.
“Get in!” Sam yelled out the window.
As soon as Dom was in, Sam had the taxi flying forward.
“That was fucking awesome!” Courtney yelled.
The taxi sped forward, leaving the broken lumps of flesh and bone behind, the sounds of Screamers coming from every direction.
“Dom, that was some good shit back there,” Dirt Bag laughed.
Sellers turned in her seat and gave Dom a wink. “I could kiss you right here and now.”
“We’d be lucky if that’s all you did. Dom, I hope you have plenty of protection. Might even want to double up. You never know what that woman has growing in her –”
“Watch it, Dirt Bag. If I remember correctly, the last one in this gang with a case of the creeping crotch crud was you,” Sellers warned.
“Yeah, didn’t you catch that from a tranny prostitute with a penchant for dressing her Johns up like little girls?” Sam laughed.
Dirt Bag remained silent. The calamitous laughter sinking him deeper in an ocean of guilt.
*
Sam had arranged to meet Ronald at a point midway between the bar and the UN Building. The location was a pawn shop that had served as a front for black-market weapons sales. The weapons sold were military grade and about as illegal as you could get without committing an act of terrorism. The location was Ronald’s grand idea. Prior to the release of the Mengele Virus, Ronald was considered one of the shops premier clientèle, so they would have their choice of some of the most violent, destructive firepower to be held in two hands.
“Welcome to Paradise my friends. You too, Sellers.” Ronald’s thick Bronx accent was at odds with his military haircut and pristinely ironed camouflage.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the King of Shit himself.” Courtney made to hug the man, but smacked him across the face before he could lay a finger on her.
“Oh how you want me, Sellers,” Ronald laughed.
“About as much as I want to blow a zombie,” Sellers ribbed.
Ronald spotted Dom and froze. “Who’s the civvy?”
“The what? That better not have been some fucked up New York racial slur or I will…” Dom puffed up his chest and faced Ronald.
“Civilian, Dom; Ronald meant civilian.” Sam stepped in. “Ronald, this is Dom.”
“Holy fucking shit, you’re not kidding! New York Football Giants! Wow, I am among men for the first time in a long time – Present company excluded, Sellers. Nice to meet ya.” Ronald extended his hand to Dom, who happily accepted the greeting. “Shit, you are a big man. Had the world not folded inside out, the Giants would have ridden your back all the way to the big dance.”
The group entered the East Street Pawn Shop and followed Ronald to the back of the store. Once in the back room, Ronald lifted a beautiful Persian rug to reveal a hidden access door. The door opened to a stairwell. Ronald gestured for all to descend into Wonderland.
Within the confines of the basement was, quite possibly, the largest collection of illegal weapons to be had within the United States. Every sort of automatic and machine gun, grenades of every flavor, shoulder mounted missile launchers – you name it, it was there. To the cadre of soldiers, it was akin to Nirvana. The Gods had finally smiled down from On High and blessed them with the glorious gift of life.
“Sweet mother of Jesus. Am I dreaming?” Dirt Bag was slowly spinning, wide-eyed, in the largest of the three showrooms.
“If we can’t take down our target with what is in this basement, it simply cannot be taken down,” Ronald proclaimed.
“I want one of each and I want to have sex right here, in this room,” Sellers drooled.
There was a moment’s hesitation as each man in the group decided whether or not to take Sellers’s decree seriously.
“We need to start loading up the car. Everyone, pick your favorites and head up,” Sam commanded his troops.
The soldiers carefully picked their way through every weapon available. As soon as they’d decided upon a favorite, another, better toy would catch their eye. Sam realized this wasn’t going to be a quick in-and-out, so he took a seat on the lower stairs. His knee was still a major issue and he took every chance he could to baby the leg.
There was a tiny fraction of Sam’s brain that wanted to force the soldiers to grab whatever they could and get to the car. But Sam was a leader and he knew the relationship between soldier and weapon was not something to take lightly. Better to indulge his troops.
One said troop seemed hesitant. Dom was standing off to the side, trying to blend into the wall.
“Dom, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be shopping?” Sam called out.
Dom’s head turned, on an incredibly thick neck, to look Sam’s way. When their eyes met Sam knew, right away, something was amiss. Sam gestured for the young man to approach.
“Wanna talk?”
Dom hesitated, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Dom, you can talk to me. What is it?” Sam gently prodded.
“When I was a little kid, I had a baby brother who got shot in our neighborhood. Just some random punks with something stupid to prove pulling a drive-by. The bullet came through our front window and hit him in the heart. He died right there, right in front of me. I was alone with him, Mom and Dad off doing their thing with some neighbors. His blood ran over my hands. I remember Derek looking up at me with his scared, brown eyes. He blinked twice and then he died. I was too scared to cry… too young to know what to do. So I sat there, with Derek in my arms, until my mom and dad returned. That night I swore I’d never pick up a gun. If I couldn’t fight with my fists, the fight wasn’t worth my time.”
There were no tears in Dom’s eyes, but the anger was made readily apparent by his clenching fists. When the man’s gaze finally met Sam’s again, he expected to be greeted by the judgmental eyes of a soldier who laughed in the face of death. Instead he was met with the understanding gaze of a father figure.
“You
have plenty of other skills we can use. But do us a favor, and see if you can at least find some Kevlar that will fit you. You’re going to be running against things that want to do more than just strip a pigskin from your arms.”
And with nothing more than a nod, Sam made sure Dom knew his secret was safe.
The running back went off in search of bullet-proof anything. Sam was glad for the honesty. He really didn’t want the type of weapon found here to be placed in unskilled, unwilling hands.
One by one the soldiers started carrying weapons to the taxi. The selection was as exotic as it was dangerous.
“I knew I could count on you clowns to find the absolute deadliest means of destruction possible.” Sam tossed the joke off as Sellers walked by hugging her death-bringer to her chest.
The commander was beginning to think this less and less a suicide mission.
Dom marched by, clad almost completely in a black, bullet-proof material. Anyone taking a shot would have to either aim at his head or be using some fairly specific rounds to get through the protection.
Ronald sauntered by empty-handed.
“Hold up there soldier. The deal was you were going with us.” Sam stood to block his way.
“I am,” Ronald replied quickly.
“Then where’s your weapon?”
The weaselly man grinned and pulled open his trench coat to reveal a sword hanging at his side. Sam let out a bellowing laugh.
“Seriously? A sword? What are you now? A Pirate?” Sam continued to laugh.
Ronald pulled the blade from the scabbard, the sound as menacing as was the brilliantly shining steel. After a few swipes that seemed to make the air sing a deadly song, the tip of the sword found its way under Sam’s chin.
“Bullets run out, my friend,” Ronald’s voice was no more than a whisper.
And with that, the sword gracefully found its way back underneath the coat and Ronald cruised by Sam to make his way up the stairs.
Chapter 11
New York City, Unknown Location
September 2013
“I don’t understand. You can’t just leave, not now. We are so close to getting the Heizer Sequence to complete.” Professor Michaels’ voice clearly gave away her frustration.
“Danielle, listen to me, I do not have a choice in the matter. I’ve been called away to Munich,” Dr. Godwin’s voice cracked.
“By whom?”
Dr. Godwin paused. The silence was tense, uncomfortable. “I do not know. But I do know it is only temporary. My returned was promised in order to complete the sequence in time.”
Professor Michaels paced the substantial office, the warm glow of the floor lamp casting a multitude of shadows on the floor and walls. “I don’t understand, Lindsay. What could possibly be more important than the work we are doing here? We are on the verge of sequencing a super cure.”
Dr. Godwin stared at the space between them. He knew Danielle was right. There was nothing more important than the Heizer Sequence. But the money he had been offered could not be turned down.
“It’s the generator, isn’t it?” Danielle finally tossed the question of questions onto the floor.
Dr. Godwin had developed the preliminary research for a Quantum Fusion Generator that would supply nearly limitless energy. The only thing preventing him from moving forward was the funding. But after years of sitting on the research, The Zero Day Collective had promised to deliver him to Germany where he could bring his creation to life. It was something he had to do and the offer was only going to be on the table for a brief period.
“Danielle, you have to understand, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You know what the generator is capable of. I swear to you I will be back in time to help complete the sequence. The generator is practically built anyway.” The doctor smiled and tapped his head.
Dr. Godwin had been living with the schematics of the Quantum Fusion Generator for so long he could recite its composition in his sleep. Once he had his hands on the materials, it would be a matter of weeks before it was functional.
“I understand, Lindsay, I do. I just worry that something will prevent you from making it back here, and the sequence will go incomplete. I can’t do it without you,” Danielle choked out.
Dr. Godwin placed his arms around his dear friend’s shoulders and kissed her head. The undertow of the partnership between the two brilliant scientists had always been laced with a romance that eventually blossomed into a full-blown love affair.
“Fine,” Danielle sighed. “I’ll continue the work on the sequence. But the second you finish playing with your toys in Munich, you get your ass back here and help me cure the world.” Professor Michaels smiled through the tears threatening to break the damn of her lower eyelids. She wanted to curse her overly emotional state.
“Danielle… I promise I will return. You needn’t worry.” The doctor’s smile filled the room with warmth. “In the meantime, I’m still here and the Heizer Sequence will not get completed on its own.”
Professor Michaels left Dr. Godwin’s office. With a moment of privacy at his disposal, Lindsay sat to compose an email to his anonymous source.
I am now ready to join the work you have already set in motion. The Heizer Sequence has completed the first stage and will be nearly to the second stage by the time I reach Munich. I am certain the third and final stage will be reached before the device is set off. We should have plenty of time to get the sequence into a transmittable form.
Dr. Godwin encrypted the email and sent it before he rejoined Danielle in the lab.
Chapter 12
New York City, United Nations Building
December, 2015
The engineer, J.T., had the defense against the horde of zombies nearly complete in less than an hour. He would have had the job completed sooner, but it took longer than anticipated to find enough cable to drop to the ground. Once the cable run was complete and attached to the proper junction box, all that was left was to flood the area and flip a switch.
The flooding was the bigger challenge. The surrounding area needed to be completely soaked almost instantly. There was no sticking a garden hose out of a window for this task. We needed serious liquid firepower. It was finally decided the closest fire hydrant had to be opened up and, as luck would have it, a hydrant was situated right in front of the UN Building. All we had to do was figure out how to open up the floodgates.
It took some time, but one of the less important members of The Zero Day Collective suggested someone volunteer to make his way outside to a car and crash it into the hydrant. With the hydrant unsealed, plenty of water would escape quickly enough to flood the area.
Brave words spoken by a man who would more than likely never volunteer for such a suicide mission. And outside of finding a member of this cowardly collective brave enough to volunteer, the challenges facing the idea were many: Find car. Start car. Plow through horde of undead.
But The ZDC was just sinister enough to include in their recruitment process plenty of young, eager-to-please ‘interns.’ These interns were promised nothing more than temporary protection from the virus and the plague of the damned. Surprisingly, that was promise enough for the younger generations with their sense of entitlement and their belief the world owed them amnesty from the undead.
It took little time to assign one of the interns to the task of getting outside and cracking open a water line. The intern was also instructed, once the hydrant was ruptured, to get to safety and attempt to return to the building. What the intern did not know was his attempt at returning would ultimately be denied. My soul cringed at the whole plan and my conscience and intellect were at war with one another. This plan was our only hope at preventing World War Holy Shit from breaking out inside our fortress of the future, so I knew I had to let the kid leap blindly off this cliff.
Karma was going to have my ovaries for lunch someday.
The intern was given a two-way radio so that he could give J.T. the go-ahead to light up the sidewa
lk. Everyone not directly involved with the plan thought for sure the intern would turn tail and drive away. Certainly no fully functional human would volunteer for such a mission.
Little did the unwashed masses know.
The Board had been mostly humoring their lead engineer until a better solution could be found. So far, none had been revealed – so J.T.’s plan was moving forward. I was shocked the whole plan was in motion. It seemed so farcical. I was waiting for something to tragically backfire. But when the radio static gave way to the voice of the intern informing J.T. he was in a car and on his way, doubt started giving way to possibility.
“I have the hydrant in sight,” the intern’s voice crackled out of the radio. “Holy shit! They’re everywhere!” Shock registered in his tone.
We heard the acceleration of the car, followed by a loud crash, and then silence.
J.T. attempted to call the intern, but was met with nothing but static. “Hello? Are you there? Hello!”
“It worked!” The voice, undercut with static, erupted from the radio. “Water is gushing everywhere. It’s filling the sidewalk,” the intern squealed over the sound of rushing water and a chorus of zombies.
“Oh no. Oh shit! The car. It won’t start. Fuck, it won’t start! The – no! Oh God, they’re surrounding the car!” The young man’s screaming was distorting the sound of the transmission.
“We have to blow it now.” J.T. was waiting for my signal. “Professor, this is our only shot!” the engineer barked.
I gave J.T. a nod and he sent the signal to the generator. When the power from the backup kicked on there was a momentary pause followed by an obvious charge filling the air. The charge seemed to build, pulling the hair on my arms to attention.
I ran to a window to see what was happening on the streets.
“It’s working!” my voice rose in astonishment.
The zombies covering the sidewalk and street in front of the building were all caught in the violent throes of electrocution. The zombie flash mob was an eerie tribute to a pop song video from days past. The electrical current was obviously more powerful near the source, where the zombies were near grand mal. The flesh of a few undead dancers began to singe, and like flesh-covered kernels of popcorn, the heads of the monsters nearest the electrical lines began exploding. A mist of brownish-red blood briefly hung over the area.