by Jack Wallen
With his hands gloved, Gerand picked up the book with an ironic nod to reverence. Not a breath left his motionless body. His eyes welled with tears.
“Get back to your laboratory. I’d rather not witness this sickening display of misplaced emotion. Just get me that God damned virus and do it quickly!” Burgess’ voice boomed, jarring everyone in the room to attention… even the wide-eyed Gerand.
“Yes sir. You’ll have your virus, I swear to it.”
Without another word, the biologist left the room.
Burgess stood. “Put a guard on that man. The second he stops his work…break him.”
Chapter 4
Gerand’s heart raced like an over-wound hummingbird. This moment had haunted his dreams for years. It was his grandfather who insisted the memories of Nazi Germany upon his conscience. It was impossible to escape the stories of Auschwitz and Hitler. The Angel of Death was especially regarded within the tales. The young grandson listened with fear-wide eyes. All of ‘Großvater’s’ stories served the nightmares of the boy well. Those same memories would feed an interest that would lead Gerand to the Zero Day Collective, the secreted diary of Josef Mengele, and the key to a rumored super virus.
The Mengele Virus.
Within his temporary quarters, Gerand sat hunched over his desk, the only light illuminating the yellowed parchment of the diary. The aged pages were carefully and breathlessly turned with gloved hands.
Dust flitted and floated in the air. The beam of light cast shadows throughout the room. Gerand wiped his brow to keep drops of sweat from contaminating the precious cargo below. It didn’t take him long to locate the passage in question.
Als ich mit meinen Untersuchungen zur Herrenrasse begann war ich sicher, dass der Schlüssel zu ihren Geheimnissen in den Genkombinationen der genetischen Permutationen von Zwillingen verborgen lag. Ich war besessen von dieser Theorie. Aber nach Jahren fehlgeschlagener Experimente verwarf ich sie schließlich. Die Vorstellung der Perfektion zerronn zwischen meinen Fingern. Hätte der Führer gewusst, dass meine Studien fruchtlos waren, er hätte mich sicherlich in die Duschen geschickt. Ich musste etwas finden, das den Herrn Hitler zufrieden stellt. Unsere Kriegsanstrengungen beginnen fehlzuschlagen. Es ist Zeit, einen neuen Ansatz zu wagen. Ich hatte an einer anderen Idee geforscht, die uns helfen würde, die Welt von gottlosen Abscheulichkeiten zu befreien. Anstelle von Gaskammern, Kugeln und Arbeitslagern würde ein Mittel treten, den menschlichen Geist über nie gekannte Grenzen hinaus zu in Wut zu versetzen. Ich hatte ein Serum entdeckt, das den Geist und das Schmerzempfinden eines normalen Menschen betäubte. Rasende Wut füllte jede seiner Zellen, und sein einziger Daseinzweck war es zu zerstören. Die Effekte waren kurzlebig, aber wenn man das Serum in eine Art Virus umfunktionierte der von Mensch zu Mensch übertragbar war, zum Beispiel durch Speichel; ich glaube das wäre die Antwort, die das Dritte Reich sucht.
Mir kam die Idee, als ein tollwütiger Hund ins Lager eindrang und die Gefangenen angriff. Der Hund schien aus purer Wut gemacht zu sein… nur eine Kugel durch den Kopf stoppte sein Toben. Der tollwütige Hund war der Auslöser für die erste Version meines Virus. Und wie der Hund würden alle, die sich dem Führer widersetzten – Juden, Schwarze, Schwule – einen furchtbaren Tod sterben. Das Mengele-Virus würde ohne Gnade, ohne Furcht und ohne Heilung sein.
The translation took even less time:
When I first began my experiments on the Master Race, I was certain the key lay in the secrets locked away in the genetic combinations in the gene permutation of twins. I became obsessed with this theory, but after years of failed experimentation, I finally gave up the theory. The idea of perfection was slipping between my fingers. The Fuhrer would certainly have me sent to the showers if he knew my studies had borne no fruit. I had to find something to please Herr Hitler.
Our efforts in the war are starting to fail us. It is time for a new approach. I had been researching another idea that would help us rid the world of Godless atrocities. Instead of gas chambers, bullets, and work camps, I discovered a medical means to enrage the human mind beyond a threshold never before possible. I had discovered a serum that would numb normal man to pain and thought. Rage filled every sense and the singular purpose was to destroy. The effects are short lived, but if the serum could be made to act like a virus, spread from human to human through the saliva, I believe I would have the answer the Third Reich sought.
The idea came to me when a rabid dog broke into the camp and began attacking the prisoners. The dog seemed to be made of pure rage…only a bullet through the head stopped the beast from continuing its rampage.
That rabid dog led me to develop the first strain of my virus. And just like that dog, the Jews, Blacks, and gays…and anyone not of the Fuhrer’s liking, would die a maddening death. The Mengele Virus would be without mercy, without fear, and without cure.
“Rabies,” the whisper hissed out of Gerand’s mouth. “It can’t be that simple.”
The biologist continued searching through the diary, to no avail. The initial work Mengele did on his super virus was based purely on happenstance. The revelation carried an elegant simplicity. A viral disease that presents with early-stage symptoms of malaise, headache, and fever, which progresses to acute pain, violent movements, uncontrolled excitements, depression, and hydrophobia. Eventually the infected is reduced to coma, followed shortly by an acute case of death.
“It’s perfect.” Gerand was near weeping as he ceremoniously closed the book. He’d have one of his assistants scan the tome, cover to cover, have it digitized and encrypted for transmission back to the ZDC headquarters.
He looked at his watch.
“Hell! The subjects will be waking in a few hours.”
Gerand fished his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number as he sped out his door.
“Gather my team in the lab immediately. I found the key.”
“How are we to get a pure strain of rabies at this time of night?” One of the assistants complained.
Gerand wanted to rip the young man’s head off. Instead, he approached the situation with a surprising calm.
“Go to John Burgess. He’ll not only have the answer to that question, he’ll lead you directly to a source.”
Gerand had discovered, early on, that the Zero Day Collective had deep pockets and even deeper connections. Nothing was impossible to obtain, because everything had a price…a price the ZDC was always willing to pay.
The assistant shot out of the lab, Gerand’s scream trailing close behind.
“The next technician to question my orders will be the first volunteer for testing the newest strain of Mengele Virus. Is that clear?”
It was. Perfectly.
“Sir?” This time it was a young female lab tech. Her hesitance was clearly born from fear of becoming Gerand’s next experiment.
Gerand turned to face the woman. The second their eyes met, hers shot down to gaze at her shoes. Tension spiked. Not one breath was taken in the moment.
“Yes?”
“How are we to introduce the virus into the population?”
Immediately, Gerand smiled. The collection of techs and students realized it was okay to breathe once again. When Gerand finally parted his lips to speak, it became clear the cause for fear among the assistants had not departed the building.
“What is your name?” Gerand spoke slowly.
“T-Tabitha. Sir.” The young assistant tacked the ‘sir’ on for good measure.
“Well, Tabitha, it’s clear to me you are not up to speed on the protocol of this mission. That strikes me as odd, seeing as how everyone was required to read, in depth, every piece of literature we handed out. With that said, I have to ask…did you, or did you not read your information packet?”
The question was met with silence. Sweat collected at the base of Tabitha’s neck, between her shoulder blades. The woman’s breath was quick and shallow.
“Did you not hear me? Do I need to repeat the question?”
Gerand broke the plane of Tabitha’s personal space. “No? Then why have I not heard an answer?” The question was screamed at a fever pitch.
“I…I don’t know sir. I thought I had read everything. I’m…I’m a slow reader, so I may not have completed the assignment in the allotted time.”
“Honesty. That is refreshing. It’s so hard to come by around here. Everything is couched in lies. I never know whom I can trust. Your honesty, however, leads us to a bit of an impasse. How can I trust you to do the job you’ve been hired to do, if you don’t know what in the fuck is going on?” As Gerand’s speech rose in ferocity, drops of spit leaped from his lips and peppered Tabitha’s face.
Gerand turned and marched away. He reached a stainless lab gurney, turned, and hopped up to a seated position. He took in the entire situation, his eyes finally returning to the young assistant. Gerand blinked, pursed his lips. Slowly the biologist reached to the small of his back. When his hand returned it was holding a Taser. The metallic filament shot across the space between shooter and target. When the tiny electrodes embedded themselves into the chest of the woman, she dropped to the floor in a flexing spasm. When the angry ticking of the Taser subsided, the spasms eased and the woman drifted away from reality.
“Secure her to the bed in Test Room A.”
“But sir, she’s,” the young male immediately regretted the undercut to Gerand’s authority.
“Would you rather I demand you be secured to a bed? I could use a few more test subjects once we have the virus synthesized. What do you say? Want to take one for the team?”
The young technician shook his head and went about lifting Tabitha to a gurney to wheel her into Test Room A.
“Anyone else care to question my orders? I will make sure to create enough serum to have you all moaning and drooling like Night of the Living Dead groupies. Care to dance with me? No? I didn’t think so. Get the lab prepped. By the time the rabies strain arrives we’ll be scrambling to beat the townies before they awaken.”
As the lab geeks whirred and purred into action, the phone in Gerand’s pocket rang. On the other side of the divide was John Burgess.
“Congratulations Gerand. I hear you’ve finally cracked that miserable code.”
“Thank you, sir. I couldn’t have done it without…”
“Please, do not patronize me with false praise. All I care about is how much time before that virus is ready?”
Gerand swallowed hard. The answer to the question had to please Burgess; else lives would be on the line.
“I should have the virus ready within an hour of the rabies strain arriving in my lab.”
The answer was simple and true.
No reply came…at first. All Gerand heard from the other end of the line was the steady breathing of a man in constant danger of heart attack or stroke.
“Very good. I’ll expect to see the results of that virus in my office within an hour of its arrival. Work quickly, we’re running out of time.”
Before Gerand could respond with a ‘yes sir’, the phone hung up. Time was of a costly essence. Should the virus fail to synthesize this go around, the whole of the project could be lost. The citizens of Templeton were expecting a movie to be shot. Wait much longer and their suspicion would begin to overrule any lie the Zero Day Collective could concoct.
Of course, they had to wake up first.
Having Tabitha made this whole ordeal infinitely easier. It was assumed the virus would initially be spread through one of the citizens of the town. The possibility of that holding water was slim – especially considering this entire operation was founded on the lie that a Hollywood horror movie was being made. Because of that, it had to seem like the first phase of the infection had to come from an ‘actor’. The role of ‘actor’ had officially, and finally, been cast.
Tabitha had had zero interaction with the citizens of Templeton. She was already a ghost, so when ‘zombie Tabitha’ was released upon the population, everyone would assume it nothing more than part of that good ol’ Hollywood magic.
Little did they know.
Chapter 5
I loved the smell of directing. I know, it’s crazy that a job could have a smell – but it existed. It was the perspiration of passion, the rush brought about by a collection of creative souls doing their thing for a singular purpose. So when Johnathan Burgess came to me with the idea for a secretive horror movie unlike anything the world had ever witnessed, how could I say ‘no’? I couldn’t – that’s how. And when he revealed the budget for the film, I knew T-Minus Zero was going to be something special, something the world would embrace and the academy couldn’t deny.
Finally, I would fall back into the good graces of Hollywood. It had been so long.
The set up of the film was a bit odd, however. Given the money spent on the endeavor, I had thought to see a litany of super stars (with their requisite trailers), special effect artists, costume mistresses…maybe even a script. None of that was forthcoming. In fact, the only vestiges of Hollywood present were the best cameras money could buy and the best crew money could hire. And, in typical Hollywood fashion, it was all ‘hurry up and wait’. We arrived, set up the cameras and sound equipment, and waited to make some magic.
And waited.
And waited.
The walls went up…and we waited.
Remote cameras were placed on the walls…and we waited.
Finally, I got the call. The film would start shooting within the next few hours. It was time to gather the troops and prepare for our own special flavor of war.
“What the hell is going on? How are we to film if we have no idea what’s going on?” It was Joey Armstrong – the lead cameraman. His concern was just.
“Is this another fucking ‘found footage’ film?”
At the mention of the dread ‘Double F’, the crew exploded in near-revolt. I had to do something to calm them down. That something was to hop up on a table and jerk back on the reigns.
“Shut the hell up! Look, I know precious little about this film. What I do know is this – the people with the checkbook, the ones paying us all very well mind you, have given me very little to go by. Is this found footage? I don’t know. What I have been told is this – when the action starts, it won’t stop and we are to film every single moment. We’ll be taking a live approach to this film. In other words, I’ll be directing from a control room and in constant contact with every camera.”
The next bit of information, I was somewhat hesitant to share. Some of the men and women in this room were friends, so full disclosure was in order.
“I was also informed that things could get a bit dangerous; and that we were to continue filming at all costs.”
As expected, the room exploded with complaints and questions. It was Sean Booth that shouted the most relevant question.
“Has the union been notified of this?”
The question shut everyone up.
I glanced over to my assistant, who shrugged. It wasn’t my place to file paperwork with the union.
“We all know that’s the job of the producer. I’m certain all paper work has been properly filed, otherwise we wouldn’t be here on the job site.”
Again, passions and tempers flared.
“Look, if you don’t want the gig, leave. I’m sure I can find plenty of labor willing to work in just about any conditions for the salaries you’re pulling down for this one. So…if you want out, leave now so I know how many I need to replace and can do so before the puck drops.”
Crickets and tumbleweeds made a cameo.
When no one complained, I set about the business of assigning the crew. We had fifty cameras to work. Some of those cameras needed good eyes, some quick reflexes, and some a steady shoulder. It took me nearly an hour to get every camera manned and paired with a sound tech.
“This is either going to be the greatest film ever made or the biggest flop.” My assistant, Sonja, nudged me in the ribs.
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“Please don’t remind me of that latter possibility. This film has to succeed or my career is over.”
Sonja had been with me for the last three films. She knew if my career ended, so too did hers. Hollywood had a way of permanently branding and vilifying assistants along with their director. Should a project of such epic proportions as this one flop, multiple careers were ended.
This was my ‘make or break’. I had every intention of it ‘making’.
“Everyone, you have your assignments. Let’s get out there and prepare to make some fucking magic!”
Finally I managed to get the crew on my side. Hopefully that loyalty would last through the final cut of this project.
The last of the crew filtered out of the room. Sonja and I were alone. The second our eyes met, they rolled upwards.
“Jesus Christ, Malcolm! Are we going to make it through this one?”
“We made it through The Eyes of Mars; we can make it through this.”
At the very mention of what was considered the worst film of the decade I remembered my rock bottom had already been tapped.
“Besides, with what they’re paying us, we’ll never have to work another day of our lives after this bitch.”
Sonja and I made our way to the director’s booth. When we arrived, Burgess was waiting for us.
“Mr. Burgess, what a surprise to see you here.”
The overly large man stood. The stool Burgess sat upon groaned in relief.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was ready for the big moment. There will be no breaks or retakes once this gigantic nightmare begins to unfold. It’s going to be a challenge; but I think you’re up for it.”
An odd twinkle danced around the pupils of the man’s eyes. I wanted to dig into that, but there wasn’t time.
“There is one thing I wanted you to pass along to your crew.”
“And what is that sir?”
Burgess wrung his hands together and then pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off the glaze of sweat.