by Jack Wallen
Teenage mistress? Hello Colt 45.
Extortion? Meet my little friend semi-automatic.
Laundered money? May I introduce you to AK 47?
Along with the big guns, came a nice stockpile of swords that belonged in museums, as well as a crate of flares, an axe, a couple of claw hammers, various saws, and a few handy Tasiers (one even bedazzled with fake pink jewels).
The last thing I bothered to locate was a stack of CDs. Tiny Radio Mike would only last so many miles, and even I have my limits with talk radio. So, the handful of compact discs would have to do. What I wouldn’t give for my blessed MP3 player. I’d spent untold hours perfecting my playlists. Oh well. Cest la vie, as it were… or at least it was when we were in France. But we won’t always have Paris.Before we slammed the doors closed on the Audi and Pennsylvania, I had one last task.
This is Bethany Nitshimi – still alive and still kicking ass for Zombie Radio. Hopefully you caught the update on the site, leading you to the auditory Nirvana that is my voice in the now. As always, I must apologize for not being able to sound off a regular broadcast, but when you’re on the lamb from someone like The Zero Day Collective, you have to be as cautious as possible. That is the why of the secrecy. And you’ll have to pardon the cryptic as well. Even though I’m fairly certain not a single member of the ZDC is clever enough to locate this encrypted broadcast, I’m not about to give away precious information like my location.
So, for all intent and purpose – know that I am here and you are there. Where here is, I’ll leave up to your imagination. But when I get to where I am going, I promise you there will be major announcements. Why? Because your DJ has happened across something big, something beautiful, and something that might well flap the wings of this chaos effect so hard, the ZDC will feel the ripple to their bowels.
I have a new sidekick by the way. Her name is Echo and she’s bad ass. So everyone better think twice about getting in our way or we will take you down.
Right now would be the perfect time for a song. It’s too bad I can’t oblige directly. But I can make a suggestion. As soon as I end this broadcast, I want everyone to spin up ‘Interstate Love Song’ by Stone Temple Pilots. If that song doesn’t make you want to don your beat-the-fuck-up straw cowboy hat and sweat across the country, nothing will. Keep the emails coming in. Talk to me my lovelies. I’m out.
Echo watched every second of the recording like I was making magic. I hated that the poor girl had to find out the Zombie Radio broadcasts were no longer live. It wasn’t something I could risk. So I recorded them, fed them to a server, and looped just the new ‘cast for the given time period posted. It was the only way I could ensure the ZDC couldn’t track me. I had to lead them on, astray, and away from our goal. Honestly, I had no idea what kind of disorder I was heading into. I trusted Jamal implicitly, but I knew wrangling the post-apocalyptic cavalry was like herding cats. Whatever Jamal had in store would be better than facing down the Zero Day Collective alone.
Once I had the file uploaded and the link set, it was time to punch the gas and hit the highway. A road trip. Who’d of thought I’d be going on a road trip? It was clear that Echo was even more excited than I. She had the passenger seat all decked out with various accoutrement associated with the sport of cross-country driving. It was actually endearing.
Echo had also managed to dig up a baby seat for the car – one of the bourgeois, rear-facing models that would save Jacob should I T-bone a horde of screamers. The girl got it… survival. What I thought was going to be a teenage albatross around my neck, might well turn out to be a serious asset.
Our first targets on the map were Akron, Ohio and Fort Wayne, Indiana. My goal was to try to stay on a highway that would take us through as many larger cities as possible. We were going to have to keep a steady stream of supplies coming in, and I would need network connectivity to keep in touch with a select group of people. I couldn’t always count on the aircards I had collected for connectivity. When I had larger files to upload (or download), I’d need the speeds of wireless or a hard-wired connection.
The Audi gracefully pulled out of the driveway. The tiniest part of me would have enjoyed the irony of backing over a moaner. The mighty crush of its skull would have been the sweetest of music. That didn’t happen. The only sound was the rich rubber of the tires gliding over the smoothest pavement I’d ever driven on.
Eat the rich baby.
Chapter 4
November 18, 2016 12:25 PM
Zombie Response Team, Pennsylvania Unit
The screamer had the young girl pinned to the ground, his cold, white fingers tangled in her curly, red hair. The thing pulled the girl’s head up close and personal to its mouth and let loose a raging, primal scream. The girl had already fallen just under the surface of consciousness and couldn’t feel the wind and smell the rot from the mouth of the monster.
After a second hell mouth roar, the zombie cracked the skull to the ground. The wet thud made it clear this wasn’t the first crushing blow. Under the skin, the bone had already caved in. Shards of bone sliced through the blood-brain barrier, rendering the girl’s brain nothing more than an entrée for the undead.
The screamer lifted the skull to its face and roared once again. This time, when the head met the sidewalk, the bone and flesh gave way. An oozing pool of blood flowed between the monster’s fingers. The zombie flipped the girl over, dug its fingers into the newly fashioned hole, and pulled apart the skull.
Lifeless fingers dug into the human-head pudding and pulled out chunks of brain. The slippery, rubbery mass went from finger to mouth. As the dead man chewed the first bite of his meal, his nearly-useless eyeballs rolled up into his head – a living dead ecstasy.
“Shit, that’s disgusting!”
Olivia’s whisper sailed on a brisk wind all the way to the ears of the dining zombie. The screamer dropped its meal and let loose a skin-shrinking scream.
“Oh fuck Olivia! It heard you.” Jon panicked. Jon always panicked. If his partner had a bullet for every time he panicked, she’d have enough ammo to wipe out the entire zombie population.
Olivia refused to acknowledge Jon’s mental anguish and instead connected the silencer to her pistol.
“Let me show you how the Zombie Response Team takes care of brain-munchers like this.”
The screamer rushed the duo; as one crouched and aimed, the other pissed his pants. Olivia sucked in a deep breath and held her torso tight.
Thirty yards.
“Olivia! Do something!”
Twenty yards.
“Come on!”
Ten yards.
“We’re gonna die!”
The huff of the silenced weapon sent the bullet charging through the air and into the space just above the right eyebrow. The screamer dropped instantly. The only sound was the moaning and whining of Jon, who had knelt to the ground with his head covered and his eyes closed tigh, the smell of his urine rising to meet anyone around and above him.
Olivia knocked Jon over with a knee to the shoulder.
“Get up chicken shit. The meat puppet is down.”
Jon stood and brushed his pants off. When he realized he’d pissed himself, his face burned bright red and his jaw quivered.
“Don’t worry, Missy, I won’t tell anyone you wet the bed.” Olivia laughed as she double-tapped the screamer.
One of the prime directives of the Zombie Rescue Team was to ensure all undead not get up for a third shot at life, that meant double-tapping – or sending a close-range killing blow into the skull. Take no chances; leave no trace of life behind.
Olivia pulled out her mobile and dialed Morgan Barnhart’s cell. Morgan was one of the founders of the Zombie Response Team. Originally from Texas, Morgan had temporarily relocated to Seattle to help Jamal with the Washington division of ZRT.
“Morgan, this is Olivia Stemler, Pennsylvania Unit. The last of the screamers has been neutralized in the area we believe should be their last pit stop in the state.
What are our orders?”
The orders were simple and clear – remain in the area until the travelers had cleared and passed the area. Once they were sure Bethany was on her way out of the state, the ZRT Pennsylvania Mobile Unit could return to their headquarters and back under the charge of the senior state officer.
“Yes ma’am.” Was all Olivia said before she hung up.
When she turned back to Jon, he was gone. She found him digging through the trunk of the car for a pair of pants. It was cold and the soaked crotch of the pair he wore was growing chilly.
“Don’t you have any sweats or something I could wear?”
Olivia laughed. She was lucky to have packed extra sleeping gear. Pants? Doubtful.
“I might have a skirt in there you could wear.” Olivia laughed.
Jon turned and flipped the girl off.
“If it were warmer, I might take you up on that.”
“I’d pay to see it.”
Jon turned his full attention to his partner. “How much?”
Another round of laughter peeled from Olivia’s mouth. “What does it matter? You can’t spend it anyway. Didn’t you get the memo, jackass? The only currency of value now is food and ammunition. Everything else is shit.”
After a bit of rooting, Jon came up with a pair of old Carhart overalls.
“Wow, ‘Liv, didn’t know you were in the closet! Sexy.”
Before Olivia could smack Jon upside the face with a razor-sharp retort, the sound of car tread had them diving for cover.
“Why are we hiding?”
Olivia hadn’t filled Jon in on every finer detail of the mission.
“We have to make sure no one is tracking Bethany. So we stay in the shadows until we know for sure she’s in the clear. If she is being followed, we take them out. That’s all I know.”
The couple tucked themselves into the car and locked the doors. Olivia had parked the black sedan, in a lot among other autos, to keep it from looking out of place.
The Audi pulled into the abandoned gas station slash food mart and came to a stop at one of the gas pumps. Bethany stepped out of the car, stretched, and began the process of filling up. Before she could get the gas flowing, she had to head inside and okay the ‘sale’. As she was walking toward the building, a younger girl stepped out of the passenger seat. The girl had her head buried in a cell phone. When she came up for air, she danced around a bit and opened the back door of the car. After a moment, she pulled back with a baby in her arms.
“Holy shit.” Olivia whispered.
“What? What is it?” Jon sat up to get a look. “You mean the chick?”
Olivia smacked the back of Jon’s head. “You’re a fucking tool bag Jon. No, not the chick, the baby, don’t you know who that is?”
Jon stared ahead in silence, clearly ignorant of what he was witnessing.
“That’s baby Jacob.”
Silence.
“Jesus crap Jon, don’t you know anything? That baby might be the new messiah, the second coming, the fucking savior of the human race!”
“As in biblical?”
Olivia stared on in silence for a moment. “Kinda. Yeah.”
Bethany returned to the car and began filling up the tank. She instructed the other girl to run inside. Before the younger female took off, she handed the baby to Bethany. When the woman held the baby, her face lit up as if the apocalypse had never happened.
“I have to get this on film.” Olivia pulled a digital camera out of her bag and started snapping shots. “Morgan will be thrilled to see these.”
Jon stared at Olivia as if the woman was starting to sprout extra appendages. “Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
Olivia continued snapping pictures. “Like what Jon?”
“I don’t know… like are we really the good guys or does the Zombie Response Team have something planned for Bethany they’d rather not share with the rest of the world?”
The photo-shoot ended abruptly with Olivia punching Jon in the shoulder.
“The ZRT saved your ass from certain death you piss face, dirt bag. What good would it do for us to spend every waking moment saving people like you from this plague of death, only to off the one woman who could single handedly save the planet?”
Jon’s eyes lit up like roman candles. “I never implied you were planning to kill her. What made you think that?” The young man started stuttering in fear. “So you are planning… ”
“Jon, listen to me. The Zombie Response Team is not going to harm Bethany or her baby. The only plans they have are to make sure that woman reaches Seattle safely and then let her help in rebuilding an army to take down the Zero Day Collective. You know, the bad guys.”
“Shit! Duck!”
Jon grabbed Olivia and yanked her down hard, as the Audi rolled out of the gas station. As the dust settled, Jon hopped back into the driver’s seat and started to fire up the engine. Olivia pulled his hand away from the ignition and grabbed her mobile. As she dialed the number for the Zombie Response Team headquarters, she removed the keys from the ignition and dropped them in her lap.
“Morgan, this is Olivia Stemler reporting in. Bethany has just left the station. They should be exiting the state within the hour. We’ll hang back and wait to see if anyone was tailing them. Once we know they’re in the clear, we’ll pursue the car. It’s a gray, Audi A4. I didn’t catch the license number. Right. Thank you.”
Olivia hung up and turned to Jon with a look that could easily char his soul to a bitter black. “You don’t listen well, do you?”
*
The ZRT unit waited fifteen minutes before Olivia handed Jon the keys. They filled up the tank, and cleaned the remaining scraps of food from the food mart before taking off after Bethany. Jon was instructed to do everything he could to catch up to the Audi, but remain out of sight. Bethany couldn’t know they were there.
“This would be so much easier if we had a helicopter. I’m licensed to fly, you know.” Jon’s bragging fell on deaf ears.
Olivia had military-grade binoculars glued to her eyes. If they lost Bethany, the mission could fail. If the mission failed – who knew what would happen to mankind.
“Watch out!”
A screamer leaped out in front of the car, catching Jon off guard. Just before the car would have driven straight into the walking bag of death, Olivia grabbed the wheel and gave it a jerk. The car veered off to the side of the zombie with an angry screech. Jon managed to right the trajectory just before the sedan threatened to t-bone a fence. The car came to a jerking halt in the middle of the road.
Jon was just about to celebrate his driving heroics, when Olivia’s gunshot yanked him back into the world of the real.
“Drive, Jon, drive!”
The roar of the monster, and another gunshot, threatened to deafen the living. Olivia’s aim was off its usual mark. The screamer jumped onto the car before the tires could announce their exit.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!”
“Jon, drive!”
The car tires barked on the pavement as the pedal hit the floor. The screamer held on. It knew what delicious treats lay within.
“What are we going to do Olivia?”
Olivia dropped her window and undid her seat belt.
“Olivia, what are you doing?”
“Saving our asses chicken boy. Keep the car on the road, moving forward preferably.”
Without another word, Olivia stood, the upper half of her body hanging out of the window. As soon as the screamer noticed the girl, he started pulling his way to the passenger side of the car. The beast let loose a roar to shame the screaming car engine.
A pale, white hand of death reached up from the hood of the car. Olivia knew that one hand could crush her skull. She aimed the pistol, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
A brown, sticky rain splattered the windshield before the screamer was thrown to the pavement. Olivia slid back into the passenger seat just as Jon hit the windshield washers
. At first, the mess smeared the glass and blocked his view. A rush of fluid cleaned the way to reveal a zombie-free highway ahead.
“Fuck!” Oliva released what tension remained.
“That was amazing. Jesus, you are fearless.”
“And we are lucky bastards.” Olivia pointed ahead. The line drawn between her fingertip and the horizon revealed a small, gray blur on the road ahead. Olivia pulled her binoculars to her eyes to confirm what she was already certain of. “It’s them. Don’t get any closer. We can’t let them know they’re being followed.”
Chapter 5
November 18, 2016 9:15 PM
Near Chicago, Illinois
Eight hours. I drove eight hours straight. We stopped a couple of times for gas, food, and potty stops. My legs threatened to revolt and leave my upper body stranded. What was truly astounding was that nothing stood in our way, no moaners, screamers, Zero Day Collective operatives, starving survivors, break downs, or teenage meltdowns. It was a strange miracle; something I would never have believed in, something I still question and probably will until my last, dying breath.
But I do fear that our luck would soon wear thin. I pointed the car on the straight and narrow to Seattle, thinking the quickest route between two points was the most logical. My logic failed to take into consideration the population of a city like Chicago. It’s 2016, the population of Chicago was reaching four million. If even just a quarter of that population has turned, that is still one million brain-munching zombies. Our odds of surviving those numbers are infinitesimal.
“Christ Bethany! Look at the road.” Echo’s model-thin arm was reaching forward – nearly into the beam of light cutting through the thickening fog.