I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Chapter 14

  New York City, United Nations Building

  December, 2015

  We managed to restore order both inside and outside the building. Although we were safe at the moment, who knew how long that safety would last? I decided to pair up J.T. and Markus in hopes they would find some solution to our security issue. Although Markus had little to offer our engineer by way of intellect, he did know as much about security as any man or woman in the ZDC. Together they would figure something out – or we were all very much dead.

  I needed to disappear for a moment, gather my thoughts and my wits. Everything I had worked so hard for was balanced, quite precariously, on a precipice that could send the whole of mankind plummeting to an early extinction. With but one gentle nudge, everything could crumble around me. Should that happen, the world would lose all hope of surviving this cataclysmic failure to control Evolution.

  So I sat at my desk to do the one thing I always did when faced with such a moral and professional dilemma. From my desk drawer I pulled a printed copy of the last email sent to me from Lindsay.

  My dearest Danielle,

  It has been some time since we last saw one another. I had hoped to return to our work much sooner, but it seems circumstances beyond my control have arisen.

  I have been charged with furthering research that should never have seen the light of day. But after much deliberation between my brain and my heart, I realized it was the only chance I had of ever returning to you.

  I cannot speak to you of what I am doing with the generator, but I will say that, should anything go wrong, you will receive a package with every note I have taken as well as a detailed description of how you might reverse a very tragic mistake I might have made.

  But most importantly, you must not let anyone know what you are doing. There will be those above you who would strike you down should they discover your ultimate goal.

  I miss you dearly. I hope to someday see you again.

  Sincerely,

  Lindsay

  The letter never failed to bring perspective back into focus, as well as remind me how crucial it was that the work I was doing seem perfectly in line with the ZDC’s objective. And no matter how it pained me to see the patients suffer, they could not know that what they were doing might possibly save the world.

  I carefully folded the letter and tucked it back into the safe where it remained secreted away. Should that missive find its way into the wrong hands, those wrong hands would wrap around my throat and squeeze the breath from my lungs.

  Michelle had cried herself to sleep. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes crusted with dried sorrow. With no one around, I gently brushed the hair out of her eyes and held her precious cheek in my hand. The girl was lovely in her innocence. My mind inadvertently wrapped itself around what confusion and fear the girl must be experiencing and sent word to my heart that it should be breaking. Luckily I had an extraordinary sense of reason and my mind was ruled by one master – logic. Not one single tear dropped from my eyes.

  No matter how heartbreaking the situation really was.

  I should have been checking the girl’s vitals, updating her chart, running stats against a known control group. But the moment wasn’t lending itself well to experimentation. There are, occasionally, moments of humanity that slip through the proverbial cracks and color a second in time so profoundly that should the second slip by unnoticed, life could easily be rendered meaningless. This was one such moment. Nothing about it passed by me unnoticed. The subtle subtext, the blatant layering of meaning – it all but blanketed the room in front of my eyes.

  I wasn’t aware of how long I had been frozen in place and time, but eventually Michelle awoke, opened her eyes, and stared. She didn’t cry out as I thought she would. She didn’t attempt to break free of her bonds. She just lay there, her huge brown eyes batting at me as if with each blink her brain found a deeper, sharper focus to aid in the processing of everything around her.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Michelle’s cracked voice was a mere whisper.

  The question nudged my heart over the edge. Tears threatened to break the walls. All I could do was shake my head.

  “Are you going to turn me into one of them?” she asked, frightened.

  Again, all I could do was shake my head. She was going to undo me.

  At my response, Michelle’s tears started anew. Only this time they weren’t tears born of anger and hatred, but tears of hurt, confusion, and loss.

  “Then why are you doing this?” Michelle asked through deep, spasm-like breaths.

  “To understand,” was my complete and honest answer.

  Of course that answer was not enough. How could it be? Here was a girl impregnated by soiled seed, without any control over her own destiny. From her perspective she was no more than a prisoner in her own skin. What I wanted to tell her was how much more she really was. But it was not the time. No one could know my truth, not until the very last vestiges of hatred and horror had been stripped from the girl. Not until the babies were born. Not until I knew, for sure, that Bethany’s baby had been protected from infection. Only then could all be revealed.

  As I turned to leave the room, Michelle’s cries escalated into full-blown sobs. The sound struck me in the back like blows from a sledge hammer swung by the world’s strongest man. My first thought: What right had I to feel hurt?

  After the door closed behind me, it took my full weight, preventing me from falling to the floor in a heap. The only consolation my heart and mind could enjoy was knowing how much worse it was on the outside. At least within these walls entropy remained fairly standard.

  My thoughts drifted off to the outside world, trying to rationalize how it was a reverse Schrödinger’s Cat paradox, but logic was having none of that. There was, in all honesty, no justification and no rationalization that could process a thread of logic through this needle. All that could be done was to hop on the ride and hope it didn’t end with anyone vomiting on your shoes.

  “Professor!” One of my lab assistants hailed me from the end of the hall.

  I pulled myself up from the door, smoothed out the front of my lab coat, and walked his way. He was holding a clipboard and had a smile that said ‘Please remember I was the one that brought you good news!’

  “Yes?” My tone, in turn, said ‘Spill it and get out of my face.’

  “The amniotic fluid is ready. I believe the current levels of infection in Bethany’s blood are at the ideal level for testing.” The lab rat handed the clipboard over.

  He was right: Hormones, red and white blood cell counts, antibodies – it was all there. The time was right.

  “Follow me,” my voice commanded the pup and he did obey. “I want you to prepare the recipient of the fluid, and I will do the extraction.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the assistant barked like nothing more than a trained seal and set off to Jean’s room. I, on the other hand, turned to make my way to Bethany.

  As soon as the door opened, Bethany fired up her usual litany: Why are you doing this? When will you let me go? Where are Michelle and Jean? Are you crazy? Each one of the questions smacked me across the face with an iron gauntlet. I continued the stoicism and refused to answer a single query. The only business on hand at the moment was the extraction of the amniotic fluid.

  When I removed the sizable hypodermic needle from the Steri-Pack, Bethany nearly ripped her arms from the bindings holding her fast.

  “What are you going to do with that?” she demanded.

  When I refused to answer, she repeated the question, only this time with a distinct threatening tone.

  Holding the needle over her belly, I looked her in the eye. “I will not hurt your baby. This will, however, sting like a son of a bitch.”

  I plunged the needle into the precise spot and the exact depth. Bethany let out a scream to render all other screams meaningless. The precious fluid pulled into the hypo without resistance. Bethany continued releasing her pain th
rough her voice, well after the needle was removed. Her near-angelic face was covered in sweat and tears.

  “Please tell me what the fuck is going on,” she managed between sobs.

  Bethany’s bright green eyes were rimmed with red and flecked with gold. They were quite possibly the most stunning pair of eyes I had ever seen. And just underneath the shell, hardened by horror and hardship, lay an innocence absolutely lost in the nightmare outside these walls.

  “Very important work,” was all I could offer.

  There was little chance Bethany could sense the honesty in my words, thanks to how the world, and the actions of the ZDC, had jaded her opinion. Of course I couldn’t tell her the complete truth any more than I could tell Michelle or Jean.

  After one last, deep stare into her pain-filled eyes, my feet led me out of the room. There was much work to be done.

  First and foremost, I had to overcome cellular rejection. Jean and Bethany were not the same blood type, so the amniotic flood would be rejected as if it were straight-up red blood cells. Fortunately, my previous work with the Heizer Sequence gave me the perfect solution for the problem.

  It was going to be arduous work, but the end results would completely justify the means.

  *

  Returning to my office offered an unwelcome surprise.

  “Hello, Professor Michaels.”

  Charles, one of the more pompous members of The Board was resting comfortably in my desk chair. He had obviously been having his way with my computer. Who knew what the man could have found. And, more importantly, was I now going to have to get rid of a prime witness to whatever crimes he wanted to pin on me?

  “Charles, what are you doing in my office? And what exactly can I do to get you out of here quickly?”

  “My, Professor, but you are in a mood.” A greasy smile crossed his lips, which could only mean one thing. “Sit, sit. I wish to have a word with you.”

  A word with you meant he had the pleasure of telling me something I wasn’t going to like. You see, The Board knew I held most of the cards in this game.

  Most of them.

  They did have a few tricks of their own they could randomly play, when they felt like I was either getting off track or not producing the results they so desired. And when they felt the need, they sent in Charles.

  Charles was one of the politicians the Collective had hired. But The Zero Day Collective didn’t hire just any politician – oh no. The ZDC hired one of the most underhanded, slimy politicians they could find. Had it not been for the Mengele Virus, Charles would most likely be in prison on charges of human trafficking or multiple counts of rape.

  “Get to the point, and then get the hell out of my office.” I remained standing and crossed my arms.

  “Such a feisty one, you are. Okay, I’ll shoot straight, as it were. We’ve decided to unleash some of your failed experiments into the population. We don’t want the plan to stall,” Charles said pointedly.

  I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The Board knew the experiments had no business outside of my lab. Hell, those monsters had no business existing. The only reason they were allowed to continue be a part of reality was so I could keep up appearances.

  I had to stall until I could figure something out. “Charles, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Charles looked down the generous length of his nose at me. “What is there to understand? Danielle, my dear, we want your toys. There are still living humans roaming the planet. The first genesis of our weapon failed to bring about the desired results, so we need to alter the plan.”

  “You can’t,” I stated simply.

  “You’ve no choice in the matter, Professor Michaels. The decision has been made. The monsters are to be released.” Charles’s voice hinted at a level of frustration that gave me cause for concern.

  “Charles, you don’t understand – those things won’t last out there. They were all bred inside a Petri dish and raised in a controlled environment. You release them into the wild and who knows what might happen.”

  I tried not to give away my desperation. I believe I failed.

  “That is precisely why we are releasing them now. The one element our master plan was missing was that of true chaos. With the releasing of the Hounds of Hell, we gain that element.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Chaos? You’re joking right? Have you bothered to look outside? Chaos is rampant. Genesis has delivered nothing but!” My voice had risen far above a civil tone.

  Charles finally stood from behind my desk and straightened the wrinkles in his double Windsor knotted silk tie. “Professor Michaels, the decision has already been made. Whether you agree or not is completely irrelevant.”

  When the politician walked by me he stopped and again looked down his substantial nose at me. “I suggest you make arrangements to fully cooperate with our plans. Any decision against that recommendation would not sit well with The Board.”

  When Charles left the room I slammed the door behind him so I could throw a fit. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Those failed experiments were the only viable blood, tissue, and plasma samples I had for my secondary testing. Without those beasts I might not be able to finish the work the Board knew nothing about.

  There was only one solution to this problem: I had to extract all the samples I would need and store them so that only I knew of their existence. And since Charles failed to give me a release date, I would have to work quickly.

  *

  We developed the means to extract samples from the experiments early on. Because each beast was confined in such a small space, very little extraneous movement could occur. Extraction was a simple matter of using a specially designed extension for the hypodermic needles, scalpels, and specimen jars. It was tedious work that often ended in failure, but with enough practice we had managed to systematically, and regularly, extract all fluids and tissue samples necessary for our research.

  As the overlord of all things medical, I knew the exact schedule of the essential and nonessential personnel in the lab; so thankfully I was fully aware of the perfect moment to begin my covert operation.

  In order to get into and out of the lap undetected, I took a hint from any good espionage thriller and looped a segment of video, displaying the empty lab. That loop would be seen on all surveillance monitors. No chances could be taken.

  At the exact moment the lab was emptied that loop began and I made my way into the room. Although the process of specimen collection was generally a two-person operation, I could easily handle the task alone.

  Beginning with the less-violent subjects, I made my way around the room, every step of the process executed to perfection. In what was most likely record time, I had every jar and vial labeled and packed, ready to be tucked away for future use.

  The plan was unfolding exactly as I had hoped. In no time I was out of the lab with the surveillance back to live feed. My timing couldn’t have been more perfect. As soon as the loop stopped, the first wave of interns entered the lab to start a fresh round of examinations, most of which were pointless (I should know… I designed them).

  And then a thought occurred. If any one of those assistants were thorough enough, they would run across one of the minor marks I left behind. Getting up-close-and-personal enough to view my work would require entrance to the containment cells. There were only two members of the lab team that could request such an examination: Myself and our lead surgeon, Jeffry Bagen. Dr. Bagen was an older gentleman who was completely OCD about protocol. That compulsion made him a completely trustworthy member of the team, but a real pain in the ass. Nothing could be done without precise documentation and adherence to the recommended and regulated steps.

  Those regulations dictated only one incident that was cause enough to allow such an examination – infection. One bite from any beast would prompt Dr. Bagen to insist one lucky assistant suit up and make their way into the containment cell of the offending beast. Thankfully, the chances that
would happen were slim at best.

  My secret would remain safe.

  For the moment.

  Chapter 15

  Streets of New York City

  December, 2015

  The Yellow Cab split the Screamer in half. The bottom half of the monster was crushed by the wheels of the car. The torso of the zombie, on the other hand, opened up and sprayed its contents over the windshield. Somehow, the small intestines managed to get wrapped around the fairly useless windshield wipers. As the blades swiped right to left they seemed to do nothing more than smear the red-brown goo over the glass, making it even harder to see. The intestines flapped in the wind like macabre streamers on a child’s bike. The body flailed about on the hood of the car, until finally the lower intestine snapped and the upper half of the Screamer flew off.

  With the body out of the way, Sam was able to blast the windshield with the wiper fluid he’d manage to refill and gain enough visibility to drive.

  Sellers hand covered her mouth as if to keep the contents of her stomach down. “Okay, that was disgusting,” she spoke through her fingers.

  “So that’s your limit? I was wondering when we’d finally get to see Iron Gut Sellers’s choking point,” Dirt Bag laughed. “Today is a good day.”

  “This plan?” Dom asked, a little queasy himself.

  “I know of a back entrance to the building. I’d bet the security will be weakest there.” Sam made an attempt to reassure the group.

  “Wouldn’t the security be tightest at their weakest point?” Ronald challenged.

  “You would think. But the entrance I’m talking about isn’t all that obvious to the naked eye. You really have to know what you’re looking for,” Sam said.

  Dirt Bag was clearly shocked no one had bothered to state the obvious. “We’re talking about the U-fucking-N here. There are no weak links in that level of security.”

  Sam spent the next few turns and zombie hit and runs explaining how the ZDC didn’t enjoy the same security as had the United Nations Not only did they not have the personnel, they also didn’t have the U.S. Military at their disposal. In its current incarnation, any perceived weakness to the security of the U.N. Building was actually quite real.