by Jack Wallen
The salvation of mankind rests in you and your baby. Bethany, you will eventually find out that Jacob is immune to the virus. That immunity most likely was spread to you as you carried your baby to term. But that resistance to the virus comes with a price. The Zero Day Collective will do everything they can to get to Jacob. You cannot let them take your baby. You must find safe haven and locate someone to help you create a true cure for the Mengele Virus from the blood of your baby.
It sounds cold, but the needs of the many…
I’m very sorry I lied to you and your friends. Had I not, I feel you wouldn’t be traveling this long road alone.
Be safe Bethany.
Danielle.
The darkness of the evening engulfed me. I felt small, frightened, and alone. Tears dropped from my cheeks and splattered the note, making translucent circles on the delicate paper. There was no cure. Nothing. For the last year my ego allowed me to jokingly say the fate of man rested squarely on my shoulders. Now that there is an absolute truth to that, the weight pressed down forcing me to my knees.
I cried in silence, letting the drops of despair tap out a sorrowful rhythm on the pavement below me. The sound was barely audible, but loud enough to remind me how much I hurt. Spasms racked my muscles, as it all crashed through the barriers of my mental and emotional walls. There were no strong arms to wrap around me for comfort, no hushing voice to say It’ll all be okay. At this very moment in time, the universe had no intention of making anything easy. My heart ached, my brain wanted nothing more than to shut down.
Lies. It was all lies. No cure. The image of the words flashed into my mind’s eye again.
Before I could pull myself together and stand, frail arms snaked around my shoulders.
“Bethany…” Echo’s voice was a whisper of concern. “You okay?”
I forced the lump down my throat.
“I’m fine Echo, thank you.”
I lied. Just piling on the deception. But there was no reason to worry the girl. Let her think the same thing as everyone else – a cure is out there, waiting to be had.
Echo started to help me up, but before I made it to my feet, an all too familiar sound bounced off the space around us.
“Oh God no. Not more of them.”
“Echo, get in the car. Now.”
A screamer was out there, getting close. It could smell us, could probably smell Jacob. What the bastard wouldn’t smell now was fear, not from me. After reading the letter from Danielle, fear had left the building of my heart.
I was immune.
Once Echo was back inside the relative safety of the car, I popped open the trunk, pulled out my collapsible pike, and had it ready to rock.
Let the fuckers come. Let them bring everything they had to this wrecking machine called Bethany.
The sound continued growing nearer. It was like a long, drawn out reverse Doppler Effect, straight out of the bowels of Hell. Wherever the beast was coming from, he would arrive any moment. When he did, Hell’s playground would break out in a dual to the undead finish.
Screeching echoed all around me. There was no way to immediately discern where the point of origin was. Based on the fading of the echo, it was safe to assume the sound either emanated from the North or the East. With that assumption, I ran away from the car to meet the monster in an open field. The pike felt solid in my hands, my arms felt fearless on my shoulders.
Was I kidding myself? Would this new-found reckless abandon find me nothing more than pulp flowing down the esophagus of the undead horde? Fuck.
A cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, due North. He was coming. Fast. The scream grew louder, fiercer. The sound cracked and popped the air around me. Shortly after I discovered the dust cloud, the figure appeared – its arms flailed wildly at its sides, its legs pumped violently on the ground. Any minute, any second.
The beast screeched to a halt, standing nose to nose with me. He sniffed deeply and roared out an angry disapproval. Rotten breath burned my nostrils, made my stomach want to turn inside out. Other than his standard issue, Hell-spawned rage, what caught my attention first was his eyes. The eyes weren’t glazed over with a layer or twelve of wood glue. This fucker had the whitest whites and the bluest blues I’d ever seen. Those ice-blue orbs glared deep into me, searched for something it knew was there. Could it possibly know what flowed through my veins was immune to its special flavor of hate?
He roared again and yanked out fistfuls of his own hair as his voice reached a fever pitch. The hot air fuming from his mouth smelled of vomit, piss, and rot. At that very moment my brain finally caught up to my fear and reminded my hand it was holding the one thing I had on me that could stop the zombie from making a meal out of my skin and sinew. Before I could run the pike through the monster’s skull, it screeched again and wrapped thick, muscular arms around me and squeezed. The vice-grip around my mid-section forced the wind from my lungs and continued the clamp-down.
I kicked out.
I rammed my forehead into the beasts’ face.
I screamed.
I cried.
Nothing worked. The zombie continued screaming and squeezing. Sparks started flashing and flickering in my peripheral vision, heralding imminent blackout. After that, who knew what the screamer would do to me.
And then, something happened. The beast let me go, as if it had simply been switched off. When the monstrous arms released me, I dropped to the ground gasping for precious air. From the screamer, loud snorts of air released in clouds of steam – which struck me as odd. Up until this point, I believed zombies had no use for their respiratory system. Like their hearts, much of their major organs were just waiting to sluice out their anus in a wash of gelatinous ooze. But this thing standing above me was breathing – hard. It looked down and released another monstrous roar as it pulled out the remaining clumps of hair. The thing stared at me and tilted its head to one side and then the other. What happened next sent the ice-cold waves of shock through my system. The zombie pointed at my gut and tilted its head again. It knew what was once in me, knew I had given birth to something familiar.
The monster was cognizant.
This was a total game changer.
Slowly my hand felt around on the ground, until my fingers made contact with the metal of my pike. All I had to do was get to my knees and, with a forceful upward swing, run the deadly end of the metal shaft through the lower jaw and into the brain stem. The angle was simple geometry – child’s play.
Another roar, only this time the thing’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of the skull and pulled away chunks of meat. Ice blue eyes glared down at me. Flaring nostrils billowed winter’s mist my way.
My fingers hit cold steel. Carefully, I wrapped my hand around the pike and looked down to make sure I knew which end meant business. If I timed it perfectly, I could jam this bitch home without the zombie knowing what it was that severed his spinal cord from his abnormal brain.
Abby something.
Why my brain flew back to the Mel Brooks film, I’ll never know. Maybe it was having a rather large, monster standing over me. Had this beast broke out into strains of Putting on the Ritz I’d probably run my own skull through with the pike.
The zombie screamed and his eyes briefly closed.
The metal of the weapon sang a deadly song as the end scraped the ground. With a single, upward thrust, the tip met the underside of the undead jaw and punctured the flesh. As soon as I felt the meat sack give way, I stood and slammed the pole upward as hard as I could.
The crunching sound made when the pike breached the top of the skull made me want to hurl. I slammed the flat end of the pike on the ground and the zombie did its best maxillofacial pole dance until its jaw hit dirt. My hand wrapped around the blood-slick metal and yanked up.
My heart thumped and thudded. Air continued in raspy gasps. I was alive. Another of the undead horde met its demise at my hands.
The tattered shirt, torn from the dead zombie’s back, made for a suffic
ient cleaning cloth for the pike. There was no reason to scare the piss out of Echo and Gabe.
“Jacob!”
I couldn’t believe I’d left my baby’s side. Promise broken. There were certain die-hard rules to live by in the apocalypse. The Prime Directive-level rule was to not let the savior of the human race out of your sight!
My lungs were already burning. After my sprint back to the car, I assumed those same lungs would revolt and either give up all together, or leave my body for a less harmful environment.
Jacob, Echo, and Gabe were all tucked safely away in the car.
Small miracles.
Echo saw me, flung open the door, leaped out, and wrapped her skinny arms around me. Thankfully, I didn’t have some strange reflex and run her through.
“Oh my God! I thought you were going to die! Bethany, you can’t leave us like that. Holy… ”
Echo’s words were overtaken by sobs. I returned the embrace and promised her I wasn’t going anywhere.
When Echo pulled back from me, tears were still draining from her eyes. “You’re the only family I have now. I’ve lived on the street long enough my own family no longer exists. If I lose you, I lose everything.”
I wasn’t about to tell Echo the reason I wouldn’t be going anywhere was my immunity to the virus. That information had to remain locked safely away in my mind. Instead I just reassured her as best I could (without giving away the grand plan) and helped her back into the car.
I picked up the notes and the laptop and climbed into the driver’s side seat. When the door gently closed shut, the silence inside the car was a magical delusion. For the briefest of moments, everything was okay.
The laptop sat at my side, calling me to reach out and share the news.
I refrained.
Chapter 15
November 21, 2016 7:05 PM
Zero Day Collective Mobile Headquarters
“Commander Faddig, we have confirmation of Bethany’s location. They are currently in Miles City, Montana. What are your orders?”
The officer pulled off his headset to make sure he could clearly hear his commander’s orders. None came. Instead, Commander Faddig stared out into some unknown region of space. There was some thought or plan germinating deep inside the brilliant mind of the Commander.
The Zero Day Collective was still rebuilding. The process was taking far longer than expected. The collection of enough undead for the drop ships had become a challenge, thanks to the lack of living men and women ready to handle the dirty work. Fortunately, time was on their side. It would take Bethany at least two more days to reach her destination. By then, they’d either have enough undead soldiers or Faddig would have to step into action himself.
“How is the collection going?” Faddig’s voice was low and menacing.
“Still behind sir.”
Failure had already set the Zero Day Collective back far too much. It was no longer an option.
“I want you to dispatch every man, woman, and child we have available to the collection teams. God damn it those drop ships better be filled with the undead before Nitshimi reaches her destination. And just where in the Hell is she going? That woman doesn’t do ‘random’. She’s filled with purpose, it’s what drives her. I refuse to believe she is heading across the country for a change of scenery.
Faddig menacingly crossed to the soldier, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him to his feet.
“If you can’t find out where she is going and what she is doing, I’ll have you replaced.”
The young soldier saluted with his free arm. Sweat quickly formed on the soldier’s brow. The insinuation was clear – in Zero Day speak, replaced was a very permanent situation. Being replaced ended in a simple, tragic foregone conclusion – death. But death, within the Zero Day Collective meant one thing – ZOMBIFICATION. If you were no good alive to the ZDC, you’d certainly be of some use dead. And with the current count of zombies, a lot of internal death had occurred.
“Are there particular collection teams you want to focus on sir? And is there someone in particular you would like heading up the new collection effort?” The soldier quickly focused Faddig’s attention to a task other than immediate execution.
The commander went silent. His mind stepped back to an earlier moment with Subject 001. A thinking zombie. Faddig picked up the phone and called the bio-tech lab.
“Faddig here. Could you have Subject 001 ready for a deployment in one hour? Good. Have him prepped in Deploy Six. I’ll meet you there to introduce the rest of the crew and give you Subject 001’s mission instructions.”
As soon as the phone went silent, Faddig turned to the soldier. “Give me three of your best and have them report to Deploy Six in one hour.”
Without another command, Faddig marched out of the room, his crisp, pressed suit rustling with each step. The sound of his polished shoes hitting the concrete floor was a comforting rhythm. Though not truly a soldier, Faddig was a man used to power, used to those around him bowing down to suck at his teat and polish his shoes with their thick, pink tongues. His power was a seductive mistress that had him rolling over in bed to bare his ass.
In the apocalypse, no one can hear you scream – especially not in the bedroom with your face buried in your pillow.
When Faddig arrived at Deploy Six, he was early. Not that it mattered, the commander was always early. His punctuality gave him time to ponder his next step. From this point on, even the tiniest of moves was crucial. If the Zero Day Collective didn’t retrieve that baby, all was lost. The future of mankind would be left to chance and chaos – which led to freedom of speech, thought, and liberty. That would not do.
Before any of the collection crews arrived, the lab tech appeared with Subject 001.
“Why do I have the feeling you’ve something planned that far exceeds our current capabilities?”
“Because you know me all too well, my friend.” Faddig almost laughed, which made the tech very nervous.
Faddig never laughed.
“I’m sending out Subject 001 to head up the collection of the undead. I want someone singular in focus, someone who won’t waver and who won’t fuck up.”
The tech sucked in a deep breath to argue with the commander, but was met with Faddig’s palm to his cheek.
“I hope you were not about to question my demands. I will have you amplified if that’s the case.”
The tech simply stood at attention and saluted.
“That’s what I thought. I want you to instruct Subject 001 he is to lead the crews in the collection of as many of the undead as possible. Bring them all back here to be prepared for drop ship deployment. The second we learn Bethany Nitshimi’s location, we’ll be sending in one hell of a welcoming party. Is that clear?”
“Why don’t you command the subject yourself?”
Just as the tech replied to Faddig, Subject 001 stepped forward.
“I await your command.” Subject 001 spoke with a strange, rasping echo in its voice. The sentient zombie stared at Faddig, some strange understanding graced the monsters eyes.
Faddig smiled. The Zero Day Collective just reclaimed the upper hand.
Chapter 16
November 22, 2016 9:05 PM
Spokane, Washington
I drove. And drove… and drove. And for the first time since the Mengele Virus hit, experienced almost an entire twenty-four hour period where nothing of consequence happened. No zombie attacks, no communication from the Zero Day Collective, no mental or emotional break downs. Not even the slightest bout of teen-angst drama was unleashed. This was also the first time in a long while I went an entire day without getting my geek on. I felt completely disconnected from the real world – or at least that virtual real world I called ‘~/’ (aka ‘home’). That was time I’d make up soon. During the long period of silence I managed to enjoy, thanks to Echo and Gabe napping as I drove, it dawned on me that we were little more than sitting ducks.
So the second we pulled over into the usu
al truck stop du jour, I had the laptop in hand and fabricated a bit of a lie for the sole purpose of getting the Zero Day Collective off our track. How did I know they were following me? I didn’t, but it was a safe assumption to make. The ZDC had been following me since the zero day – or so it had seemed. With each move I made, they seemed to be one step ahead. It was time to belay that.
The plan was simple. All I had to do was log into my server, back-date some files, re-post some blog entries, and unleash a flurry of search bots on my own site. Once those bots picked up the content, the Zero Day Collective would have no trouble finding out we were on route toward San Antonio, Texas. Why San Antonio? The Zombie Response Team. It was a risk, but one I felt had to be taken. If my assumption was correct, Jamal was in cahoots with the ZRT and would get word to them the ZDC was heading toward their front door.
All I had left to do was contact Jamal. But this communique would be sent gift wrapped in a very special encryption matrix we called The Sports Bra. It was nearly impossible to get the delicious contents out of The Sports Bra, unless you knew the trick. Only Jamal and I knew the trick. The message was simple:
J-Tiz,
Inform ZRT the ZDC is heading to San Antonio. Use of deadly force encouraged.
B-Zip
The encrypted message left my machine and had me feeling a bit more confident we’d make it to our destination. I closed the laptop as Echo and Gabe returned to the car.
“Score!” Echo cried out in joy as she held up plastic shopping bags filled with actual food. “No kibble for us tonight!”
I laughed and nearly wept. We had been snacking on kitty kibble for so long I swear I had developed a purr.
“I could kiss you both! Holy shit, is that actual soda I see in that bag?”