Forest Park: A Zombie Novel

by Jamie Marks

  Behind him, he heard the rustle of bushes.

  It wouldn’t be long until the Dead came out and searched for him. Suddenly in front he heard something else; it was more shuffling and a moaning.

  “Susan?” he whispered.

  Nothing.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw the flames of the gas station and the faint image of someone running.

  Tyler?

  He stepped backward. “Susan, are you there?”

  More sounds came from his left, and then from his right as the shuffling picked up speed.

  Groaning.

  Then he saw one.

  To his left a middle-aged man in the tattered remains of his nightclothes came shuffling out of the dying darkness and haze toward him. His shirt was ripped open and covered with blood. His pants were gone, lost some time back as he shuffled, leaving him naked from the waist down.

  For a moment, Charlie felt shocked to see the man’s penis.

  He stepped away.

  He wanted to scream, but he was too scared and out of breath.

  Then unexpectedly someone struck him.

  Charlie squealed in panic and came close to fainting.

  I’m dead, he thought. Not now, not me. “I don’t deserve this.”

  He closed his eyes and threw an uncoordinated punch, hoping to take the initiative away from his attacker.

  He missed.

  “It’s me, you fucking idiot! Open your eyes,” Susan said.

  He opened his eyes and saw her face.

  He could have cried with elation.

  I knew she would come back for me.

  Susan, looking over Charlie’s shoulder, saw the waist-down naked man, causing her face to grimace.

  “Are you coming?” she said. “I know he would if given half a chance.”

  “Where?” Charlie replied.

  He sounded like he was lost.

  “That way,” she said pointing toward the park, “If you’re coming with me. You better keep up,” she said as she brushed past him. “Now fucking hurry!”

  “But I’m no good at power walking,” Charlie said as he followed.

  Behind them, the pants less ghoul growled in frustration as his meal walked away from him.

  He was coming too, trying his hardest to keep up with both Susan and Charlie.

  THE BUNKER

  He tried to keep his eyes closed.

  He couldn’t.

  Rubbing his face while the world rushed on by, Ambrose was wide-awake, he needed to sit and be alone, at least until he could regain his bearings.

  He sat half-slouched on a comfy chair nearby the office of the President, by its open door to the hallway.

  It was dawn and his first day in the Baseball bunker.

  Dawn, according to his watch anyway, no windows, four walls and a door plus some basic furniture.

  If he had to describe it to someone, he would have said it was like a doctor’s waiting room, but with no magazines, it could have done with some.

  He took a breath and cracked his knuckles.

  Ambrose hadn’t seen a mirror, but he was sure he looked like a mess; he was tired and worn out; his clothes crinkled. His face with salt and pepper stubble, no doubt.

  He was the picture of a man who required a holiday, but one wasn’t forth coming.

  What a roller-coaster ride.

  It’s all in the minor details.

  Harris! Nothing has happened that he hasn’t predicted or been aware of.

  A new President, it was all very dubious; he admitted to himself, everything was all really disconnected, outside of reality, including his own thoughts. Harris knew Shapinkov; he knew of Al Rashid. Did he guess or did he know about Walker? Maybe it was an accident. He normally would have flown with him, just as he flew with Holtz to the bunker.

  Somebody stormed past the open door in the opposite direction of the new executive.

  Days before, Ambrose would’ve observed every detail about the person that had gone by; their hair, the color of their eyes and facial expression. Maybe even the person’s tailor.

  He could have pinpointed where in the country they were born from the way they walked, but today?

  No.

  When Harris approached Ambrose and stood before him, he had barely noticed him at all. “I meant to speak to you once we had some privacy and now seems like a good time. I have something to tell you, something extremely important and secret. I think you will guess or will come close to guessing very soon. However, first the CDC’s been compromised. This thing was more powerful than even we expected, in spite of the mutation,” Harris said.

  Ambrose said, “What?”

  “Centre for Disease Control has been compromised.”

  “Oh,” was all Ambrose could say, for the moment.

  “Wait... expected?”

  Harris took another chair in the room and spoke. “Nowhere is safe anymore.”

  For a second Ambrose thought he saw a grin, or a grimace, and he probably did.

  “I feel like we’re at the cusp of a brand-new world, if you know what I mean?”

  Harris said.

  “You do?” Ambrose answered him.

  “Yes.”

  Neither man said a word for a while.

  Somebody else marched by, but Ambrose barely noticed.

  Slip up after slip up, where did my training go?

  “I don’t want that, the cusp,” Ambrose finally said.

  “Things change.”

  “I don’t want things to change,” Ambrose said.

  “Nobody wants sudden change but sometimes it has to happen for the common good. Of course, some decent people will always suffer with change; change does that. I’m sure there are some people right at this minute fighting for their lives in some backwater town, risking it all, fighting for life and dismissing death. However, you have to look at the bigger picture here. Changes required, and some of us had the courage to make it happen,” Harris said.

  “This is not a change; this is everything. Everything, the lot. It’s beyond change now.”

  Harris shrugged.

  “That’s a point of view,” he said.

  “A point of view, this might be the end?”

  Harris shrugged again. “A man doesn’t know what he needs until it’s thrust upon him, however when choice is offered to him, he doesn’t see what’s important, what he really needs. Being selfish and chasing after what one wants is what life has become for most people, and that train of thought has been the downfall for us all,” Harris said, “even when someone with a good heart tries to save the world, it’s based upon procuring a place in heaven. Handing a dollar to a poor man on the street might give some self-satisfaction, but it’s not based on being generous and compassionate to your fellow-man. It’s based on faith that you’ll be rewarded. What’s in it for me is the basis of everything. What do I gain and what kudos do I deserve? My colleagues and I are not searching for any kudos though, nor any reward. We only want to set a new course for the ship.”

  Harris paused.

  “Did Jesus help the sick to aid them out of love or to gain recognition for God? Did he die upon the cross to save man from his sins or to get man to owe God for his sacrifice? Even God’s son had done what he did for selfish reasons. We’ve done what we did for the good of mankind.”

  Ambrose didn’t know what to say. Was this some sort of confession?

  “I’ve seen you watching me, Cornelius, and I love you like a son. You’re a challenge, my challenge, that’s why I chose you as my boy. Now I’m asking you for your faith.”

  Ambrose said, “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, that you’re responsible for the death of probably millions? That you did this...”Ambrose paused for a moment.

  “But who else is responsible, who helped you? Is it because of you that they could get this virus into every country around the globe?”

  “I belong to a select group of people, the people who are responsible for shaping the wor
ld. We’ve shaped it since before the settling of this continent. Nevertheless, unfortunately, things have gone awry, and we have to rectify the errors of generations and start again. I am only telling you this because I feel the need to be honest with you. If this extreme decision were not undertaken, I would have recommended you to the board after my passing. You’re an obvious candidate, but alas. We’ve decided to dissolve our group and allow man to fight on alone, without the direction we once provided.”

  “You’ve murdered millions,” Ambrose said.

  “I didn’t ask for the obvious,” Harris said.

  “What’s going to happen then?” Ambrose asked.

  “We focus on the bright side. It’s all unwritten now; the human story is still out there. Sacrifices are best made by a heavy hand and heart,” Harris said in a kind voice.

  “You’re now a part of the idea, the new deal, from scratch. A great beginning from the ashes, the clearing away of the bracken. However, I understand if you believe all of this to be a bitter pill.”

  “A bitter pill?” Ambrose said.

  Harris laughed.

  “Either way, the damage has been done. Democracy forced our hands. It was rampant, and out of control. Even when this is over, and the Dead are deposited back in the ground, the best will be left.”

  “What if the best aren’t left?” Ambrose asked.

  “Then we weren’t strong enough to begin with. We cast this judgement because man needed a sudden change of direction, if it proves incorrect, then so be it. The fact is, I would rather risk everything on chancing success than to see humanity being swept away into a melodramatic conformity and uniform obesity.”

  Harris laughed to himself.

  “We had to pull the rug out from under everyone. Alternatively, this country and planet would die a slow, lingering death that would involve clichés of choice and personal rights, followed by infinite regrets”.

  “What now?” Ambrose said. “I could have you shot if the President knew!”

  “If he knew... I can tell you now he doesn’t. Anyhow, the President is far from being the highest office in the land. Holtz is a buffoon and before you ask, Walker was an accident --- we much preferred his slow and steady approach. Anyway, you won’t give me up, you never could,” Harris said. “You know it’s all too late, the horse bolted long before now. The remaining players upon the stage don’t mean anything, not anymore.”

  Harris leaned in closer.

  “You know there’s the chance we could build a brighter and better world out of this. Once the horror ends, borders may come down; the world’s financial superstructure would be torn apart. We could bring the world together united as one. No more hiding behind God, when this plague has doubtless proven he never existed anyhow. Can’t you see the limitless potential? We could bring the survivors together to make a brave new world.”

  “A brave new world?” Ambrose said as he shook his head in disbelief. “When you said expected, what had you meant?”

  “It means the best laid schemes o’ mice and men. However, I can assure you of this, before this place falls, I’ll make sure you have a choice; it is the least I owe you,” Harris said, “but now you can watch everything unfold without being blind. Free from the world’s illusions and lies”.”

  “How could Fort Detrick be down? That’s impossible,” President Holtz said.

  Ambrose heard as he entered the PCC and glanced over to Harris, who gave him a wink.

  The room was well lit. Monitors plastered the walls, and an American flag hung in the corner. In the center of the room was a long oak table with enough seats for thirteen people. Even so, most of the seats were empty.

  Not too many had completed the journey.

  The people who had failed to attend were now assumed dead or in hiding. Some others were en route, while others didn’t even know where to go.

  It was chaos; the system was breaking down, just as Harris had said to Ambrose in private on the flight to Atlanta.

  Emergency plans seem to work great in training, but in practice, they normally pointed toward the many flaws that should have been resolved and solved long before. Mistakes and errors are expected, but mistakes and errors compounded with fear and mayhem, equal breakdowns of such great proportions that the original plan meant almost nothing at all.

  A five per cent fail rate can quickly escalate to forty per cent, then fifty per cent, and before anyone really begins to consider the idea was bad to begin with, it’s already well past sixty per cent on the fail rate meter.

  Then the knives come out, and scapegoats are subsequently sorted by the next generation of historians who offer the perfect plan based on hindsight with a mix of twenty-five per cent arrogance.

  The perfect plan is always obsolete before it’s ever implemented.

  What Ambrose heard when he walked into the PCC hit him like a brick. “The US Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) was down.” It flashed in his mind.

  “How could it be breached? What about safeguards for Christ’s sake!” President Holtz said

  “What other options do we have?”

  Harris leaned forward. “Very few, Mr. President; our system of controls and counter measures has ceased to exist. Private research facilities are either non-functioning or overrun. I would hazard a guess that the staff of these facilities should be written off, for the most part, as a possible source of brainpower. Medical centres and major hospitals should also be discounted as credible sources in finding a cure or a vaccine. They were hit hard early.” He paused. “The fact is, that most of our institutions, National, Reference and Sentinel are now all off-line. The best we can do is to try and find a solution in our own labs, which are on the lower levels.”

  General Carnegie then chimed in. “We have some good people down there, Mr. President. Doctor Bauer is one of the leading men in the field.”

  President Holtz shook his head in frustration. “Damn it; how much experience does this man have?”

  “He’s in the top five in the country, Mr. President, and was involved in the making of the emergency plan which brought us all here, and lucky for us. He was one of the first people automatically contacted. He and his staff are the contingency plan for possible problems elsewhere. It wasn’t considered good policy to keep all our egg heads in the one basket.”

  President Holtz sighed in relief.

  “Send him up.”

  Carnegie nodded and reached for the phone nearest him.

  “Send Dr Bauer to the PCC.”

  Holtz leaned back in his chair and tried to relax.

  “Well, try again.” Carnegie’s eyes began to display some panic. “Who answered then?” He paused. The conversation wasn’t going favorably. “Any idea when he and his team will arrive?”

  Holtz’s ears pricked up.

  “Let me know as soon as you have more information.” Carnegie put down the phone.

  “What now?” Holtz said.

  The general didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me now!” the President said, sounding more than just agitated.

  The general cleared his throat. “The doctor and his team failed to arrive. They’re missing, presumed dead. Their link plane never left the ground.”

  President Holtz didn’t yell, or scream --- hell, he barely reacted at all.

  However, General Carnegie turned as white as a sheet at his own news.

  The room was aghast.

  President Holtz leaned forward.

  His chair creaked; it was the only sound in the room.

  As he reached out his hand, his Rolex jangled on his wrist as he poured himself a glass of bottled water.

  He splashed it into the glass roughly, and droplets from the bottle’s rim dripped onto the table and formed a mini pool of water, which he then wiped away.

  Leaning back again, the chair creaked once more.

  Then he said, “No CDC, Fort Detrick is gone, and we’ve lost our own doctor, a man of repute, so I’ve
been told. The people whom, I’m informed were to arrive in this place to continue government during this crisis have either disappeared or didn’t know where to go, and this place is so damn secret that if they could get here they won’t even know where here is.”

  Harris nodded in agreement. “That’s about it, Mr. President.”

  Holtz smiled into the distance.

  “That’s about it…”

  “Our late President Joseph Walker was a man who believed in God. He believed that Jesus was our Lord and savior. I’m not sure how he would handle this --- all of this. I know I have my doubts. I have to admit my faith is tested. I just wonder, would his faith have been.”

  “Everybody’s being tested today,” Harris said.

  “I’m having trouble seeing a way out of this,” Holtz admitted.

  The phone on the table directly in front of Carnegie flashed its lights. The ring tone was on silent.

  He answered it.

  Once again, all attention turned to him.

  After a brief conversation, he replaced the receiver.

  Smiling, Carnegie said, “The new Homeland Security Chief, Martin Gibson, will be arriving just before nightfall. It seems he has made his connection.”

  “Finally, some good news,” Holtz said.

  The President’s eyes became a little brighter.

  “At least someone caught a connection flight, let’s just hope that he also makes it to this office without any drama,” Holtz said. “We’ve lost a lot of good people of late; we can’t afford to lose too many more.”

  “Indeed,” Harris said, “he’s been instrumental since the beginning of the crisis and is a very close friend of mine or as I like to say, a member of the board. Up to this point, Mr. President, I don’t know if I could have done this without his help.”

  Holtz smiled at Harris. “Fantastic, it appears if our broken rudder may straighten itself.”

  FOREST PARK

  Kathy lay curled like a cat, her head on Steve’s lap. She had crashed soon after her head became horizontal to the floor. It had been a long night; their Dodge was now a wreck, and they had met a new friend, or at least hoped he would be. Steve could read people; a little anyhow, and Cook felt genuine, but more importantly, he seemed like someone who could protect Kathy if anything ever happened to him.