I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  “B.? You okay?” Jamal’s voice yanked me from dangerous introspection.

  I nodded. “Yeah. But what in the hell are we going to do about locating the next item on Gerrand’s list?”

  Jamal grinned and pulled out his phone. “Okay, Google,” he said with a wink. “Where can I find potassium chloride?”

  The familiar Android voice chimed in. “The chemical compound potassium chloride is a metal halide salt composed of potassium and chloride. It is odorless and has a white or colorless vitreous crystal appearance.”

  Jamal huffed. “Stupid technology.” He repeated the question, this time enunciating more clearly.

  The Android voice replied, “Here are the closest locations, where you can purchase potassium chloride.”

  Jamal studied the results and then looked up to me. “This’ll take us off course by roughly thirty minutes. You okay with that?”

  I nodded. “Do we have a choice?”

  “We could go back, having failed the mission,” Jamal answered gravely.

  “Oh, hell no. Bethany Nitshimi doesn’t fail.”

  Jamal smiled. “I love it when you talk tough in third person.”

  “Bethany knows you do,” I added with a cocky tilt of the head.

  We pedaled off, this time at a more leisurely pace, the conversation taking a much-needed lighter tone.

  *

  “There,” Jamal hissed excitedly.

  “What? A Moaner?”

  “Better…”

  “Jamal, everything is better than a Moaner. Amendment. Everything but a Screamer and a Boner. Of course, Boner would depend upon the circumstances.”

  “Sorry, B., what I meant to say was…”

  “I know what you meant to say.”

  Before us was a stand-alone building with a sign over the door that read Medical Supply House. It was our stop and, thanks be to the gods, it was a harmless-looking, one-story building.

  We rode up, dismounted, and cautiously approached the door. Jamal reached his hand out and I slapped it down.

  “The sign says closed.”

  To my surprise, Jamal laughed—not a gut-busting explosion of laughter, but a snicker of approval. Without glancing up at me, Jamal said, “Damn it, Nitshimi, I was certain I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I did. And then you go and do that.”

  “I’m pretty adorkable, aren’t I?”

  Jamal finally made eye contact with me. “You have no idea.”

  The door swung open. Other than squeaky hinges, there was no sound. Outside of a slight musty odor, there was no smell.

  Jamal peeked his head in and whispered, “Marco.”

  My sick sense of humor so badly wanted to hear a member of the undead moan out, “Polo.”

  To my relief—and slight chagrin—it never happened.

  “In and out,” I ordered.

  “Damn, girl, you are racking up the sexy points today.” Jamal winked.

  “Now,” I barked.

  “Rowr, kitten, rowr.”

  I glared at Jamal.

  “‘K. ‘K. I’m on it. Don’t need to tell Jammy the Mart twice.” Jamal stepped into the building and then stuck his head back out through the open door. “Wait…you’re coming with, right?”

  I shook my head and shoved past Jamal. “Well, Jammy, we’re running on borrowed time here.”

  We hurried through the building, running up and down aisles, desperate to locate the chemical in question. As we combed through the shelves, Jamal said, “Bethany, we have got to come back here with a trailer or something. There is so much shit we could use.”

  He was right. Medical supplies of every kind. I was shocked this gold mine hadn’t been looted already. The only problem was, thanks to the sheer number of items stuffed in bins on shelves, there was no way of knowing where everything was.

  The answer to that problem came in the form of a receptionist’s desk. The first thing to catch my eye was the computer. Without asking, Jamal slipped in behind the desk and faced the monitor. “Crap.” He glanced my way. “No power.”

  “So much for the easy way out,” I said, somewhat deflated. “I guess we’re going to have to do a bit of manual sleuthing.”

  “Not so fast.” Jamal unshouldered his backpack and dug through one of the front pockets. Take the drive out of that desktop.”

  Jamal was in CompSci mode, so there was no second-guessing his command. I pulled the case of the machine apart and extracted the hard drive. “What are you going to do?”

  “My thing,” Jamal said, and snatched the drive from my clutches. He attached the drive to one of his charged packs and then to an adapter already plugged into his phone. “I’m going to mount this baby as an external storage device,” he said as he worked, “locate anything that might…bingo!”

  “What?”

  “Spreadsheet.” Jamal shook his head. “Looks like someone managed this office old school style. Just have to…” Jamal tapped around on his screen. “There we go. Good grief, they have everything.”

  “I like the way that sounds, J-Man.”

  “You should. We can snag the remaining items on this list from this one location and then be on our way back home.”

  “Jiggity jig?”

  Jamal nodded and concurred. “Jiggity to the jig.”

  “So, what’s the first item to locate?”

  Jamal faced me, his eyes large and his lids heavy. He pulled out the list and said, “Rabies.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked with a far too fervent tone. “Isn’t that what the whole goddamn virus was based on?”

  Jamal nodded. “Well, apparently Gerrand uses the virus in his vaccination. It makes perfect sense…” Jamal caught his transgression and did everything he could to recover. “From a biological standpoint.”

  There was no time to debate ethics. Besides, since the dawn of the Mengele Virus, ethics had become a moment-to-moment, relativistic measure of the human race. The idea of Gerrand using the very thing that unleashed the virus to attack the virus…well…it seemed there were ethical boundaries to overcome. At every crossroad, pragmatism won out. This particular juncture insisted I not give a rat’s hinder about my ethics.

  I shook my head.

  “What is it, B.?” Jamal asked.

  I glanced Jamal’s way and said, “I’m sitting here debating the ethics of the apocalypse.”

  Jamal laughed lightly. “Although, fundamentally, those two concepts are in polar opposition, they aren’t exactly mutually exclusive. If we cave and toss our moral compass out the window, we are no better than the Thelemites. I once took an Ethics of Business class. Never in my educational career was I at such odds with a topic.”

  “The Rule of Mutual Exclusion,” I said, matter-of-factly.

  Jamal nodded. “I never could read about that and not transpose Raman to Ramen. Always made me happy…and hungry.”

  I opted to return the subject to the matter at hand. “Care to tell me how we’re going to find a strain of rabies in a medical supply warehouse?”

  Jamal retrieved a small brochure from the desk and handed it over. Printed in block letters were the words…and testing facility. Somehow I’d missed that little detail among all the death and destruction we’d faced down.

  “Annnnnnd,” Jamal sang. “Looks like they do happen to have a lab that carries various strains of common viruses. I have the spreadsheet with all the sweet x marks the spots. Shall we?” Jamal gestured toward the heart of the supply house.

  fourteen | a most unfortunate sound

  Morgan paced the kitchen, a mug of lukewarm coffee in her hand. Josh sat at the table, waiting for her to calm down.

  “Why hasn’t she called back?” Morgan mumbled.

  Josh opened his mouth, but quickly realized his wife wasn’t actually looking for answers. He sealed his lips so she could continue venting.

  “What if she and Jamal were taken down by a Screamer? Maybe the ZDC got their hands on her.” Morgan stopped and glared at Josh. “We can’t
lose them. Bethany and Jamal are too goddamn important.”

  Raneesha peeked her head into the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

  Morgan ceased her diatribe and smiled at the woman. “Yeah. We’re good. Just a little…” Morgan winked at Josh.

  “Newlywed tiff,” Josh completed Morgan’s thought.

  “Oops,” Raneesha grimaced. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Josh grabbed Morgan’s hand and gave it a loving pat. “If you’re that concerned about them, call again. It’s not like Bethany’s going to disown you for caring too much.”

  Morgan chewed her lip and blinked. “You’re right. Fuck the three day rule.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. “If she doesn’t answer this time…” Morgan’s eyes lit up. “Bethany! Oh, my God.” Tears sprang from Morgan’s eyes. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

  We’re on our way back now, Bethany’s disembodied voice replied. Good news…we found everything on Gerrand’s list…and then some. I’ll tell you all about it when we get back. We should be home in an hour or so.

  “Wonderful. I’ll let you go so you can concentrate on remaining alive. Hurry. Yes, I love you too.”

  Morgan didn’t even look up at Josh. “I know what you’re thinking. The answer is no.”

  “What was I thinking?” Josh asked, his voice filled with a polarizing mixture of innocence and guilt.

  Morgan raised her hand, showing three fingers. Slowly, she lowered the first and the third, until only her middle finger remained.

  Joshua blushed. “Hey now…in my defense…” He stopped himself short. “There is no defense, is there?”

  Morgan shook her head.

  “Damn it.”

  A moment of silence wafted into the room before husband and wife broke out into gales of laughter.

  “I had you going, didn’t I?” Morgan asked.

  Josh nodded, unable to speak through the mad case of giggles.

  Before the conversation could pick up again, Rizzo entered the room…face lined with confusion and concern.

  “What is it, Rizz?” Morgan asked.

  “You need to hear something.”

  Josh and Morgan exchanged glances before following Rizzo out of the kitchen and into the war room.

  “Jamal told me to man the radios while he was gone, in case someone attempted to communicate with us, or the Zombie Radio DJ had important news. In the last hour, I started hearing something strange. At first I thought it was interference or maybe the radio on the fritz…but then patterns started to form within the noise. Listen.” Rizzo turned to the audio control station and punched the master volume up. From the bank of speakers an eerie wash of clicks and pops rang out.

  “What the hell?” Josh started, and was instantly shushed by everyone else.

  The patterns rose and fell. Rizzo turned to Morgan. “I’ve tried everything I know to crack this code…everything being Morse code. We really need Bethany and Jamal here.”

  “Oh, my God,” Echo squealed as she entered the room. “What is that?”

  “We don’t know,” Morgan answered, pulling Echo into a comforting embrace. “Bethany is on her way back. She and Jamal will figure this out.”

  The symphony of clicking and popping continued.

  “Could this be a secret means of communication the Thelemites developed?” Josh asked.

  “I doubt it,” Raneesha’s voice surprised everyone. “They mostly shun technology.”

  Morgan tilted her head in obvious wonder. Raneesha picked up on the accusatory stare and responded quickly, “I’ve been following the communications within SLC for some time now. Back at home I had a shortwave radio and a police scanner. Nothing got past me. Not once did I ever hear the Thelemites over the air. That’s why I didn’t know about them, even though I’ve lived here my whole life. What you’re hearing there isn’t natural.”

  “Then what is it?” Rizzo asked.

  Raneesha shook her head. “No idea. But I think it’s pretty clear that isn’t electronically produced.”

  “Meaning?” Josh prodded.

  “Meaning someone is making that sound.”

  “Or something,” Echo added.

  Everyone turned to the youngest warrior in the group. A cold silence settled over the room, the implication of Echo’s statement clear.

  Morgan eventually broke the spell and shook her head. “No way. That would require the undead having the means to use technology, and we all know that’s not happening.”

  “Do we?” Echo questioned Morgan.

  “Yes, Echo,” Morgan snapped. “We do know that.”

  “What is that God-forsaken noise?” Gerrand joined the gathering. When everyone chimed in to explain, the biologist raised his hands for silence. He drew in close and leaned his ear to the speaker. “Fascinating.”

  “What is it, Spock?” Josh asked.

  “The sounds,” Gerrand pointed to the nearest speaker. “That was bone on bone…most likely teeth.” Another point. “And that was tongue to palate. Where is the origin point? Did you produce this?”

  Echo shook her head. “We’ve been monitoring everything, just like Jamal instructed. These patterns started about an hour ago.”

  Gerrand pulled a chair up and sat before the row of speakers. He glanced over his shoulder at Rizzo. “Are you recording this?”

  “Crap!” Rizzo exclaimed, and fumbled at the console to record the incoming stream.

  “Can you hear that?” Gerrand asked those in attendance. When no one answered, he continued. “This isn’t coming from a single source. You can tell by the slight variations in tone. If I’m correct, these sounds are being produced by…. Do you have a pair of headphones, Rizzo?”

  “Yeah. Audio Technica ATH M70x. You can hear everything with these babies. The sound stage is…” Rizzo cut herself short, realizing the only two members of the group who would appreciate her geeking out were gone.

  Gerrand placed the headphones over his ears and slumped over, elbows on knees. He sat, unmoving, while everyone else looked on. When Gerrand finally removed the headphones and stood to address the room, his face was a roadmap of fear.

  “I detect no fewer than twenty sources in that sound,” Gerrand said gravely. “When I was working with Burgess and the ZDC, there was talk of escalating the evolution of the undead. Their goal was cut directly from the cloth of bad science fiction.”

  “Let me guess,” Josh started. “An army of thinking zombies.”

  Gerrand stared at Josh, unmoved.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Josh snapped. “Last I checked, this was reality, not a goddamn video game or comic book. Zombies don’t think.”

  “No,” Gerrand replied. “They don’t. But given what we know about the Zero Day Collective, and what they’ve achieved to this point, is it that far beyond the realm of the possible they could somehow manage to pull this off? They’ve already bested God on a number of occasions.”

  It was Morgan’s turn to chime in. “Sure, they’ve proved themselves capable of the most despicable acts of cruelty the world has ever witnessed. That doesn’t mean they can do the impossible.”

  “How much more impossible can you get than bringing the dead back to life?” Echo shouted, her voice cracking. “I’ve pretty much given up on logic and reason.” She pointed to the window. “Out there…isn’t the reality we used to know. Instead, it’s a freak show where anything goes. Sentient zombies? Why the hell not? We’ve already seen Moaners, Screamers, and Boners.”

  “Don’t forget the Berzerkers,” Josh added.

  Gerrand stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “What we’ve witnessed only scratches the surface.”

  “Meaning?” Morgan prompted.

  Gerrand cleared his throat. “A while back, well before I joined this group, I stumbled upon a few reports from the ZDC headquarters that detailed the experimentation going on within their labs. What they were doing made everything we’ve come across look like a petting zoo. Out there? That’s j
ust the tip of the iceberg. So yes, Echo is right…logic and reason no longer have a place in our reality. We could very well be hearing the conversations of the dead.”

  On cue, Rizzo unplugged the headphones and turned the volume up. The clicks and pops filled the room with a desperate dread.

  “So,” Raneesha said softly. “What are you gonna do?”

  Everyone turned to see the woman standing, leaning against the doorway to the war room. She’d been listening quietly the whole time, and something in her face had changed as Gerrand brought the truth home to everyone. Raneesha regarded them all as if seeing them for the first time.

  “What we always do,” Morgan answered. “Wait for the cavalry to arrive.”

  “Which is?” Raneesha questioned.

  Morgan walked up to Raneesha, patted her on the shoulder, and said, “Bethany,” before exiting the room.

  Josh followed without a word, leaving Gerrand, Echo, Rizzo, and Raneesha staring silently at one another.

  fifteen | no way in hell

  We arrived at the New Salt Lake City wall at about the same time that my legs reminded me how little energy they had left. When my feet hit solid ground, my knees buckled under the weight of my body and full pack.

  “Oh, no you don’t, girlfriend,” Jamal said as he scooped me up. “All we have to do is climb the wall and we’re home safe.”

  “No such thing as safe,” I mumbled.

  Jamal wrapped my arm over his neck so he could support me. “You are always safe when I’m near, Bethany. Always.”

  “I love you, Jammy.”

  “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

  Somehow, I managed to conjure the strength and will to laugh. “Nope.”

  We reached the wall. The second Jamal unshouldered me, I dropped to my ass and leaned against the metal edifice. “I need a moment.”

  Jamal joined me. “Have some water.” He handed over a bottle and then rummaged through his pack. “I think I have…score. One Blueberry Crunch Cliff Bar. Sharesies?”

  “Holy shit, the things I would do for half of that bastard,” I said roughly.