I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  “I’ll settle for a kiss,” Jamal teased and handed me fifty percent of the bar.

  “How do you do it, Jamal?”

  “What?”

  “In the face of uncertainty, danger, and abject hell, you still manage to retain your sense of humor and hope.”

  Jamal chewed, swallowed, and washed the bite of dried heaven down with a gulp of water. “Sometimes, the only thing we have is our sense of humor. And the minute we lose hope, all is lost. I choose to remain who I am, no matter what those bastards throw at me. I decided a long time ago there was too much to live for.”

  “When was that?” I asked.

  “The moment I met you.”

  Tears leapt from my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Jamal had always been my center. “I can’t do this without you.” I leaned my head onto Jamal’s shoulder. “I adore you, Jamal.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “How can you not? Have you seen me lately? I’m the shit.”

  We laughed, knowing full well Jamal’s ego was soundly in check and his words were nothing more than a tease…one I fully endorsed.

  I sighed. It was mostly on accident. Mostly.

  “What?” Jamal asked.

  “What what?” I responded, feigning innocence.

  “The sigh. You never make that sound without good reason.”

  I sighed again.

  “You’re killin’ me, Smalls,” Jamal replied with a quote from a movie he knew I hated. I punched him, weakly, in the shoulder.

  “Sometimes doubt creeps in, Jamal, and I wonder how in the hell we’ll make it. Every step we take forward, the universe sees to it to knock us back two. I know that sounds defeatist, but isn’t that the world we live in today?”

  It was Jamal’s turn to sigh. “I wish I had a solid rebuttal for you, B…but I don’t. There’s no denying the mere act of existing has become an exercise in exhaustion. For me, it doesn’t matter. You, Bethany Nitshimi, are a champion for the single most important cause on the planet…humanity. My job is to stand beside you and…”

  Before Jamal could finish his uplifting, scene-stealing monologue, a dreaded screech filled the air.

  “Goddamn it!” Jamal hissed. “I was ramping up for the big Oscar moment.” He stood. “I guess my closeup is over, Mr. DeMille. Put away the camera and lights.”

  Jamal reached down, took my hand, and pulled me up. The world momentarily spun, nearly sending me back to the ground.

  “You okay, B.?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” I turned and glanced up the wall. “This is going to be a big-ass challenge, though.”

  The undead war cry grew louder. Jamal patted me on the back to nudge me on. My pack seemed heavier than it should. My legs seemed weaker than I thought possible. And yet…there was no choice. With the nightmare constantly unfolding around us, the only safe haven was within the wall.

  *

  The walk to the headquarters felt like a most-needed victory lap. The mission was a success. What the spoils would bring, however, could not be predicted. Gerrand could easily reproduce Fry…to what end? Were we facing a doomsday scenario?

  Certainly. Every damn minute we remained alive.

  “Oh, my God, we’re back,” Jamal heaved in a deep breath and released it slowly. He pulled the door open and waved for me to enter first. “They’re your people, B. It’s important for them to see their Queen first.”

  I didn’t have the strength to argue, so I walked into the house, almost expecting a hero’s welcome. For a moment it seemed everyone had vanished. My heart palpitated. The apocalypse made it easy for me to assume the worst.

  My mind spiraled into a game of Nihilist Twister. Right foot, green infection. Left hand, red bullet to the head.

  “Oh, my God!” a squeal of delight rang out. Before my heart could re-seat itself, Echo raced into the room and engulfed me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back. We’re like a ship without a rudder when you’re gone.”

  Next in the room was Rizzo. “Holy shit.” She put her hands to the sides of her mouth and screamed. “B’s back! B’s back!”

  Everyone poured into the room…smiles burning brightly. Morgan weaved her way through the tiny crowd and took Echo’s place. “You won’t believe what we’ve discovered.”

  I pulled away, holding my breath.

  Gerrand drew in close and whispered, “We believe the Zero Day Collective is up their old tricks.”

  “Meaning?” I asked.

  Gerrand spoke the one word I really couldn’t stand to hear at the moment. “Evolution.”

  I’d been in the belly of the beast and knew exactly what Gerrand spoke of. “What now?” I asked.

  Gerrand led me into the war room and nodded for Rizzo. After a beat, a most strange noise spilled from our speakers.

  “What is this? Some avant garde conductor playing a previously under-appreciated John Cage piece?” I continued listening to the static-charged, pseudo-rhythmic recording.

  Gerrand knelt beside me. “We believe that is a collection of the undead communicating with one another.”

  I jumped to my feet, shocked at what I’d heard.

  “That’s not…” I stopped myself, knowing full-well that anything was possible if you threw enough resources at it. Considering the ZDC had virtually unlimited everything, they could keep the business of the apocalypse afloat for a very long time.

  “Jamal,” I shouted. Within seconds he was kneeling at my side. I placed my hand on his shoulder and nodded. “Listen. I need to know if you can discern any patterns within the rhythm of that sound…and what they mean.”

  Jamal complied, leaning forward to concentrate on the noise emanating from the speakers. “The law of entropy,” Jamal whispered.

  “The universe tends toward disorder,” I added.

  “What does that mean?” Josh asked.

  I turned to the man and shook my head. “It means there’s no discernible pattern here.”

  “Not necessarily,” Jamal interrupted. He cupped one hand behind an ear and pointed toward the speakers. “That’s a call and response. Tick, tick, tick. Pop, pop. Followed by…Tick. Tick. Pop. It’s hard to hear because the sounds are almost indistinguishable.” Jamal turned to me, his face slack and blanched. “Someone—or something—is giving orders and another someone—or something—is responding to them.”

  “The universe is tending toward order?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Exactly,” Jamal confirmed my biggest fear.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in explaining that to those of us without doctoral degrees?” Morgan asked.

  Jamal nodded, took in a deep breath, and said, “Those are…that’s some iteration of the undead talking to each other. Specifically, what you’re hearing is zombies taking orders from other zombies.”

  “That can’t be a thing?” Josh asked, his voice exuding fear.

  “It’s the apocalypse, Josh. Everything and nothing is a thing. My best guess as to the origin of those sounds…care to know?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “The ZDC said they’d forced evolution’s hand? I believe we just heard the beginning of that coercion.”

  A stranger entered the room, folded her arms, and leaned against the door jamb. I caught Jamal’s reaction to her out of the corner of my eye. He did his best to hide the twitch, but I knew him enough to navigate the ebb and flow of his undercurrent. Something was amiss. I made a mental note to ask about it once I could get him alone.

  I glanced across the room at the woman and then toward Gerrand. He caught my concern and gave me a knowing nod before he silenced the recording and turned to us. “I suppose that chatter belongs to the alpha mutation.”

  “Those who’ll be immune to Fry,” I responded.

  Gerrand nodded. “Precisely. Jamal, is it possible you might be able to track their location?”

  “From a recording? No.”

  Rizzo turned her attention to the radio. After a moment, the now-familiar clicks and pops once again spilled
from the speakers. “Is it live…”

  Jamal drew in close to the nearest speaker and whispered, “Or is it Memorex? How are you picking this signal up?”

  “I don’t know,” Rizzo answered. “I was just going up and down the short wave channels and came across it.”

  Jamal knelt before the radios and mumbled. “Short waves broadcast at a frequency of one point six to thirty megahertz. All I need is a HAM APRS…” Jamal stood, eyes bright and lips pursed. “Automatic Packet Reporting System. Yes. I can do it. It’ll take me a couple of hours to set up, but I should be able to pinpoint their location within a few hundred feet.”

  “Excellent. Once we’ve located them, we’ll figure out the means to trap one so I can do my thing.”

  “Which is?” the stranger asked.

  Gerrand turned and clapped his hands together loudly. “Raneesha,” he exclaimed and turned back to me and Jamal. “Jamal, Bethany…this is Raneesha. She came to us for help and, well, in an attempt to rebuild our humanitarian nature, we took her in.” Gerrand turned back. “Raneesha, this is Bethany and Jamal. Bethany is, to borrow a cliché, our fearless leader.”

  “Oh, there’s fear,” I mumbled, and then stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Raneesha.”

  Jamal remained silent until I elbowed him in the ribs. He offered a halfhearted welcome, turned to me, and, with raised eyebrows, said, “To the laboratory.”

  “We don’t have a laboratory,” I replied.

  “To the laboratory,” Jamal repeated, eyes wide as if to convey some super-secret purpose to sequestering ourselves in what was previously called the boudoir.

  As soon as we were tucked away from the group, Jamal shut and locked the door. He glanced about the room, snatched up a spare phone, connected it to a bluetooth speaker, and cranked up Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me”.

  “Jamal, what’s going on?” I asked, equal parts curious and concerned.

  “She’s one of them,” Jamal whispered.

  “Who’s one of what?”

  “Raneesha. She’s one of the Thelemites.”

  “No.” The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it.

  “I saw her. She stood right beside the dreadlock dude when they had me tied up on the zombie buffet.”

  My knees gave out and I dropped onto the bed. “What in the hell is she doing here?”

  Jamal cocked his head. “Are you serious, Bethany? The woman is here to take us down from within. We cannot trust her. She has to go. Now!” Jamal’s voice shot up above the sound of music. I covered his mouth with my hand in an attempt to calm him down. I could see in his eyes that wasn’t about to happen.

  “Jamal, now’s not the time for knee-jerk reactions. Like everything else, we have to think this through. One of the benefits of having such massive brains is the fact that we actually get to use them.”

  Jamal pulled away, his excitement momentarily quelled. “What do you suggest we do?” he whispered.

  “Feed the woman misinformation to blow her cover.”

  A very slow grin spread across Jamal’s lips. “Noice.”

  “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

  Jamal nodded. “I certainly do. Follow my lead.” He turned to leave the room.

  I stopped Jamal short of making his grand exit. “Are you forgetting something?”

  The stupefied look painted across Jamal’s face answered my question.

  “You’re supposed to be setting up a tracker for the Chatterers.”

  “Chatterers?” Jamal grimaced.

  “You got a better name for them?”

  “I guess not,” Jamal harrumphed. “That name just seems a little, I don’t know, Cenobite-y.”

  “If you can come up with a better name than Chatterers, feel free to claim it. Until then…” I cut myself short and returned to the topic at hand. “Tracking device,” I hissed.

  “Fine,” Jamal huffed.

  “If you don’t need my help, I’m going to see if I can motivate Miss Raneesha into giving up her secrets.”

  “I give you leave, go.” Jamal winked.

  I left the newly christened Laboratory and wound my way back to the war room. To my surprise, everyone was patiently waiting.

  “Well?” Gerrand asked first.

  “As expected, Jamal can deliver. We should have a tracking device in about an hour.”

  There was the slightest bit of subdued, celebratory hurrahs before Echo took command of the moment. “So, B. what was it like out there?”

  My darling ninja girl had just given me the perfect opening. I took in a deep breath and commenced to laying the groundwork to get Raneesha to make her own personal exit. Just as I was about to dive into a bit of fictitious storytelling, Rizzo entered with baby Jacob in her arms. The second I caught sight of my baby boy, everything else melted away. His gentle coos put my world into perfect perspective. Rizzo handed Jacob over, and his smile lit up my heart.

  “You are my sweet angel,” I whispered, enjoying a moment unfettered from the horrendous reality of post-apocalyptic living. Jacob’s darling eyes drifted shut and I returned my attention to the moment at hand. “It was a long journey. We were attacked by Moaners and Screamers, as well as what I believe to be the remaining Thelemites.”

  Everyone stood a bit straighter. I tossed a sidelong glance toward Raneesha to see her instantly squirm in her seat.

  “Outside of New Salt Lake?” Morgan asked, taking the bait.

  I nodded. “I was surprised, as well. But yeah, they came at us like a miniature tidal wave of rage. The one thing Jamal and I had on our side was stealth. The Thelemites charged in typical fashion—chanting and screaming as if they were attending a rave. A small horde of Screamers caught wind of their revelry and took it upon themselves to belly up to the buffet.”

  Gerrand stood straight, a dusting of hope in his eyes. “Are you saying…”

  “They’re all dead. Even the leader, the dude in the dreadlocks, did the Terminal Head Bang against the cement. I watched as a Screamer sucked his skull dry of brains.”

  I shot a quick glance over to our new friend to see tears welling in her eyes. She caught me spying and checked her emotions. As I watched the woman’s resolve return, an idea struck me.

  “Morgan, I need your help with something.”

  “Me?” Morgan seemed hesitant. “Okay.”

  “Could you…” I gestured for Morgan to follow me into the Laboratory.

  Jamal’s attention was so focused on a circuit board; he failed to hear or see us enter the room.

  “You’re not hoping I can help with science, are you? I don’t science well,” Morgan said with a frown.

  I leaned against the closed door and crossed my arms.

  “Okay, what exactly is going on here?” Morgan asked, nerves rattled.

  “Jamal?” I nudged the man with my voice. He turned and finally realized something was amiss.

  “Yeah?” Jamal responded, befuzzled.

  “Tell Morgan what you told me a moment ago.”

  Jamal carefully placed his tool on the workbench and turned to face us. “Let me put this as simply as possible.”

  “Why?” Morgan interrupted. “You don’t think I can handle complexity?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Garcia, there is nothing complex about what I’m going to tell you.”

  “Well…” I urged Jamal on.

  “That woman, Raneesha, she’s one of them.”

  “One of them who?” Morgan asked.

  “Thelemites,” Jamal and I said in unison.

  “What?” Morgan shouted.

  I repeated the answer, this time attempting to calm the room.

  Morgan reached out for my arm. “Get the hell out of my way.”

  Jamal stood and grabbed for Morgan’s wrist; she pulled away before he could gain purchase and spun on us.

  “What the fuck? We can’t just let that woman stay under the same roof as us. Her goddamn friends and family served up Jamal as meat for the be
asts. How in the hell—”

  I placed the palm of my hand over Morgan’s mouth. “Shhhhhh. That is why I lied out there.”

  “About…” Morgan mumbled under my hand.

  “We didn’t run into the Thelemites. I was trying to get a rise out of her.”

  Morgan wriggled out from under my grasp. “To what end?”

  “I had to verify if it was true—that she was one of the Thelemites. I’m fairly certain her reaction to my ruse was all the confirmation we need.”

  “And?” Morgan prompted me.

  “There’s no doubt.”

  “So what do we do?” It was Jamal’s turn to question.

  We stared at one another…long enough for discomfort to set in. Clearly no one had a single fucking clue how to move forward.

  A knock at the door shocked us from our trance. “Bethany?”

  “Gerrand,” I whispered. “Perfect.”

  I pulled the door open and gestured for the man to enter. The second he cleared the threshold, I shut and locked the door.

  Without hesitation, I filled Gerrand in on our dangerous liaison.

  “So what should we do?” Morgan asked Gerrand.

  “The only thing we can do. We sit the woman down and demand the truth. We cannot act on suspicion. What if she defected from the group? What if the Thelemites have a master plan and we are now woven into its very fiber? We find out what they’re are up to and we can plan accordingly.”

  “And what if—”

  Gerrand stopped me short. “I would think someone of your intellect and respect for the scientific process would know to not work on what ifs. Besides, I believe we’ve found ourselves in yet another situation where Occam’s Razor applies.”

  “Among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected.” Jamal and I spoke the words in a near-reverent tone.

  “The law of parsimony,” Morgan muttered.

  We turned to face the woman, surprise etched across our faces.

  “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil,” Morgan teased. “You think you’re the only ones here with a bit of wit about them? I know some things. I studied Latin in school. I remember lex parsimoniae, which translates to the law of parsimony. Although I could never understand how that related to Occam’s Razor. Anyway—”