by Jack Wallen
Thanks to the dissipation of the current, out towards the periphery the violence was not nearly as bad. That, of course, meant not all of the zombies would be eliminated. Thankfully, the majority were starting to fall, one by one, lifeless to the ground.
A muffled explosion rocked the windows of the building. All of the zombies near the edge of the water or on dry ground continued lumbering on toward the car. As for the rest of the undead – they could finally enjoy the sweet relief and peace of final death.
The silence that overcame the room was powerful. With one blow we had just managed to take down a large number of moaners. But at what cost? Our souls?
“J.T., that was brilliant. You have successfully, and single-handedly, built our first, best line of defense against the oncoming undead.” I had to feign my excitement.
“Excuse me? No, I’m sorry professor, but this was a one-time deal. The power source we used to charge the flood? It’s irreparably damaged. That’s why I tapped into another building’s backup, so I wouldn’t damage the generator used for our building.” J.T.’s voice was pure snide.
For some odd reason, what the engineer was saying wouldn’t register. “What do you mean?”
“That boom you heard? That was the generator I used. For this little show of power we shorted out one seriously large power plant and we’re lucky the building next door isn’t in the midst of a total meltdown. This was an experiment I can’t repeat.” The veins on J.T.’s forehead looked like angry worms crawling under his skin.
I started to protest before my thought was rudely interrupted by a distant alarm.
“Well, maybe we weren’t so lucky. You hear that noise? That is a fire alarm and it seems to be coming from the building next door.” Abject fear slowly registered in the lead engineer’s face. It didn’t take long to realize why.
“We have to silence that alarm now!” My voice matched J.T.’s in both pitch and timbre.
The sound of static interrupted our frantic conversation.
“Hello?” The voice of the intern crackled from the radio. “Hello? Anyone?”
I grabbed the radio. “Are you okay?” I was shocked the young man survived.
“Yeah, I think so. It worked, but not all of the zombies are dead. The car won’t start. What should I do?” There was a thick undercurrent of terror in his voice.
The intern was moments away from tears. J.T. grabbed the radio from me.
“Get out of the car and run back to the exit. You need to get into the building as soon as you can.” The man’s voice was calm and smooth.
From the crackling radio, the all-too clear sound of Screamers could be heard drawing near.
“Oh no. Oh shit!” the young man cried out.
The sounds of running and heavy breathing were transmitted over the radio. The intern must have locked down the talk button.
“They’re coming… from everywhere! I think it’s the sound of the alarm. They hear it. Oh God no! Help!”
The young man’s shriek was matched, decibel for decibel, by a Screamer. Joining the screaming was the sickening sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking. When the man’s screams finally subsided, the sucking and slurping sounds of a zombie devouring brain were loud and clear, broadcast over nightmare radio. The intern was gone; In his place a tribe of brain-eating Screamers had gathered to devour what remained of the flesh and meat. The chewing, crunching, tearing, and roaring made me wish I could fold inside out and disappear from everything. The human heart was not meant to experience such horror.
“I can’t re-create the electrocution without destroying another generator!” J.T. began babbling on in a geek-speak I couldn’t understand..
I grabbed the rail-thin nerd by the shoulders and gave him a sound gather-your-wits shake. “What we do is wait to see if these things go away. If they can’t hear or smell us, they’ll leave.”
The engineer took in a deep breath. “I don’t think so. Everything we have seen so far proves they have changed, evolved. Those Screamers are running in packs and from what I have witnessed, they are thinking and working together. That is not typical undead behavior. If we allow ourselves to get stuck on the defense, we’ll never make it.”
The alarm had reached a point where everything seemed to be in sync with the rise and fall of its sound. The lights, the pressure in the air, the temperature – even the muscles in my temples wanted to match the pulsing of the klaxon. As long as that alarm was sounding it would continue to serve as a siren song to every member of the undead nation in New York.
“How do we kill that siren?” I finally managed to arrive at the one question that could give us a purpose besides coming unglued.
The engineer stared at me, lost in the other world that often attracts the minds of the brilliantly inclined. His trip was cut short when he finally proclaimed, “We have to cut the power to the building. Since the emergency generator is already dead, if we cut main power, everything will go with it, including the alarm.”
Before I could ask the next obvious question, J.T. spat out an answer. “We have to hack into the power grid and cut the feed to the building. That should be simple.”
J.T. sat at a PC and started tapping out commands. His pale, bony fingers danced across the keys like a prima ballerina dancing her swan song. On the monitor an overhead view of the city block appeared and then zoomed in on the building currently moaning its disapproval. Once the building in question was centered on the map, it only took a few commands from J.T.’s fingers and the alarm was silenced.
That silence was the most magical sound I had ever heard.
“The call to arms is no more.” T.J. grinned smugly.
Outside, the chaos was settling back into some semblance of normalcy – as normal as could be expected from an apocalypse. Instead of focusing on the source of the siren, the Screamers were methodically tearing apart their slower brethren. The few Screamers that couldn’t seem to find a target to dismantle dashed off in search of bigger and better gray matter.
Inside the UN Building, everything was falling back into place. It was time I checked on my patients.
*
“What happened? Tell me what’s going on!” Bethany’s curiosity offered a unique insight into the woman. Strapped to a hospital bed, heavily guarded and monitored, and her driving concern was the state of affairs outside the building.
“What happened is none of your business. The only business you have is that of your baby. Deliver that infant and you can care about the outside world all you want.” I smiled, hoping to give the woman some glimmer of humanity.
Bethany stared hard at me, searching for some deeper, hidden agenda. Should she dive deep enough, she would find exactly what she looked for. But for the time being, my ultimate goals would remain locked inside.
“Please tell me what has happened,” she pleaded.
I couldn’t leave her hanging on such a precipice. The stress of what she was undergoing was enough to bring down the average human. Thankfully she was far from average.
“The means with which we killed a mob of zombies set off an alarm in the building next door.” My calm words betrayed the event.
“So more came.” Bethany concluded.
“Yes.”
“And you cut the power to the building next door.” Bethany presumed correctly.
I was impressed. The girl was far smarter than I had given her credit for. The Board would not be pleased with this – such intuitiveness could only lead to problems. What they don’t know…
“Why is this baby so important to you?”
And there it was… the golden question. I thought long and hard about answering Bethany, just revealing everything. Ultimately though, it was best she remain in the dark. Should I give her everything I had and that information reach The Board’s ears, all would be lost.
“That baby holds the key to the future. I can’t tell you any more than that… at least not at the moment.” That was all I could reveal.
I gave Beth
any a deep look, trying my best to convey to her she would be okay. I wasn’t about to let anything happen to this woman, this miracle of life and hope for the future of Man. After the look I checked her vitals and made sure every monitor and instrument was functioning properly. Check and check.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to visit.”
“No. Please, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here alone! No!” Bethany’s voice grew desperate.
I couldn’t remain in the room without fear of my resolve breaking and my heart causing my mouth to give away too much too soon. Everything in its time. But for now, the main character in this unfolding drama would have to stay in the dark. As much as it pained me to hear her suffer, it was the only way to ensure all went according to plan.
Chapter 13
New York City Streets
December 2015
“Dude, you realize it’s Christmas Eve, right?” Seller’s complained.
“Does it even matter now? Seriously. What good is a holiday predicated on humanity and humanity’s innate ability to hope, when all hope was lost the minute this virus visited mankind?” Ronald tossed the philosophical bomb out for the group to ponder.
Although known for being a deadly cunning soldier, Ronald was also often seen as a true master of thought, a poet of depth, and bringer of truths most wouldn’t dare breathe.
As Ronald grew ever-more pedantic, Sam pushed the limits of the taxi’s steering and braking system. Each time a Moaner or Screamer presented itself on the street, the driver made sure to skid or slide in such a way as to effectively do the most damage possible.
The innards of yet another Moaner sluiced the windshield of the car. Dom let out a scream to shame a cheerleader in the back seat of a Hummer. “Holy shit!”
Sam turned on the windshield wipers only to discover the car was out of washer fluid. The countless times the windshield had been doused with the remains of unsealed undead had taken its toll. Zombie juice smeared the glass, making it nearly impossible to see the road ahead.
“We gotta make a pit stop,” Sam huffed.
When no arguments flew from the passengers, Sam realized it had been a while since the last restroom break. It should have been a foreign idea – a potty stop in the middle of the apocalypse. But Mother Nature’s grip on the human bladder scoffed at chaos’s grip on the human race.
Dom pointed at an upcoming gas station, food mart combo. Not only could they clear off the bug juice, they could refill their stock of junk food and relieve their bladders and bowels.
“Thank God. I have to shit,” Dirt Bag offered his usual bitingly rude commentary.
“We could just dump you out of the car and say we all dropped a deuce!” Sellers jabbed.
The car exploded with laughter. The backdrop of the apocalypse made for an interesting dichotomy, momentarily lost on the passengers of the Yellow taxi pulling into the Quick Mart. At that particular second in time, the only thing that mattered was a very briefly lightened spirit.
The cab came to a stop.
“Let’s make it, shake it, and take it, ladies,” Sam barked his standard-issue military pep-talk for ‘get in, get out’.
“Hey Sam,” Dom caught up to the still limping Sam, “I’ve been meaning to ask you – what exactly are we doing? We got enough weapons to take out this entire city. Obviously you are expecting someone or something to put up one hell of a fight. Did I get involved with the wrong people?”
Sam stared hard at Dom, attempting to get a read on the man’s purpose. The commander wasn’t sure of the football player was getting cold feet or just needed a bit of assurance they weren’t being marched into a suicide mission. Sam had already given Dom the ten-cent tour of the plan. Now it seemed it was time for full disclosure.
“I was hired, along with a select few, to locate and capture a civilian. It seems the group that hired me took special interest in a woman impregnated by a journalist that was already infected. Since the lady in question displayed no signs of amplification, this group wanted to know how she managed to dodge that bullet. Thing is, the woman had information about the virus: How it started and how to cure it. The group wanted to prevent that information from making its way to the public sector.”
“Wait… cure? I thought there was no cure?” Dom interrupted.
“See… that’s what ZDC wants you to think. There is a cure, only now that cure is in the hands of the group, which is why we are going into the hornet’s nest,” Sam finished.
“To rescue the girl and save the cure,” Dom added.
“You learn quickly.” Sam smiled and patted the younger man on the shoulder.
After everyone returned to the taxi, Sam punched the gas and squealed out of the station. At the first intersection the cab took a hard right and slammed into a pack of Moaners. The screams from within the car reached the rotting ears of the undead crowd, giving away the fact fresh brains were to be had. Within seconds the zombies had the car surrounded and were doing everything they could to gain access to the fresh flesh within.
“Get us the fuck out of here!” Dirt Bag screamed like a girl.
“Don’t you think I’m trying?” Sam yelled back.
Smoke was billowing from the squealing tires as Sam slammed his foot against the accelerator. The gathering of zombies had the car pinned in place as even more Moaners joined in on the fun. As the undead climbed on top of one another to reach the living humans, daylight was being blocked from the windows. The taxi was being slowly buried by a sea of writhing damned.
Panic was the order of the day inside the metal chamber of doom.
“What the hell? Sam, do something!” Sellers cried out.
“I’m open for suggestions. Anyone have a weapon on them?” Sam asked.
When everyone but Dom answered in the affirmative, Sam barked out his orders.
The plan was simple, but dangerous: Roll down the windows enough to take out the zombies closest to the car. If enough of the monsters were disabled, the car would have room to move. Since the thickest collection of zombies was at the front of the car, the best direction would be reverse, so the shooters were to concentrate on the Moaners to the rear of the car.
“It’s gonna get loud in here!” Sellers warned.
The soldiers took a collective breath before Sam started a countdown to go time.
“3. 2. 1. Now!” Sam bellowed.
The windows rolled down and the shots began. The noise was deafening and the blood splatter thick. One by one the zombies fell and the taxi started inching backwards. Every shooter in the car was covered in the thick, viscous blood and broken shrapnel of the undead.
One fairly vicious zombie managed to reach an arm through the open window and wrap its cold, thick fingers around Ronald’s neck, slowly cutting off precious oxygen. Sellers reached back, placed the barrel of her pistol to the base of the zombie’s arm and pulled off enough shots to cut through flesh and bone. Sellers’s aim was dead-on and the arm tore away from its owner, the fingers releasing Ronald from death’s very grip.
“I owe ya for that, Courtney,” Ronald’s raspy voice spilled out.
“I hear that a lot lately,” she replied with snark.
“Hear? Is that what you call it? Your Calamity Jane impersonation nearly ended my hearing!” Dirt Bag yelled over the ringing in his ears.
The car finally managed to pull out of the crowd and back far enough away to find a new route – one free of the zombie blockade. The indirect route would get them to the UN Building, only not as quickly. The misdirections and distractions were starting to wear on Sam. He knew every second he spent not blowing the shit out of the ZDC meant Bethany was that much closer to death… or worse. Unfortunately, Sam knew what worse than death meant in this case, and when the thought found purchase in his conscience his foot quickly found the furthest limits of the gas pedal. The taxi fish-tailed, slammed into a lone Moaner, and sped off through the Manhattan streets.
“So, what’s the plan, Sam?” Sel
lers’s voice broke the silence inside the car.
Sam had to confess to himself he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Up until this moment, his plan had been to gather his army, arm his troops, and storm the fort. Based on his first attempt at storming that fort, he knew a blind attack would ultimately fail.
“You don’t have a plan, do you?” Ronald caught the hesitation and brought the lie of omission to light. “You’re running into this shit storm without an umbrella. Fuck!”
Sam swallowed hard, the lump of pride catching in his throat. “My plan was to arrive at the location, assess the situation, and develop a strategy.”
Sellers smacked the back of Sam’s head. “You sound like fucking middle management. If you don’t have a plan, just tell us you don’t have a God-damn plan.”
Sam confessed his oversight. But the truth was he knew his team well enough to know they would create the best possible plan of attack shortly after arriving. That was the precise reason he gathered these specific soldiers. The group had all worked together before (minus Dom) and their ability to improvise a strike was above and beyond anything one man could devise alone. His men would prevail. The ZDC would not stand a chance against the hellfire his soldiers would rain down.
“I can say this – entering from the roof is a no-go. That is where they will be expecting us, so we’ll be making our way in from the ground floor,” Sam said.
“So you’re saying we just walk up to the front door, knock, and wait for some random member of this group to let us in?” Dirt Bag asked.
Sam assured everyone they weren’t setting themselves up to fail just as he swerved sharply to avoid a head-on collision with an on-coming Screamer.