The APOCs Virus

by Alex Myers

  Brian could tell the animal was still cognitive as it traced his movements with its eyes. Zeus tried to whimper.

  Brian thought the dog looked like it was pleading for help. He laughed and said, “Screw you mutt, who helped me when butt-muncher Tad decided to make a fool out of me at school? Who was sitting all alone eating a moon pie when that cheerleader pries was boffing his brains out? Who has to live in a roach-infested trash-hole with his bull‑dyke mother? Answer me you stupid mutt!”

  Tears cascaded down his face. “I’m a person too, you know, " he said as he searched the stream-bed for his knife. "Don't you think fat people have feelings too?"

  He found it and the opened it.

  Zeus sustained his scrutiny of the now-crying boy through heavy-growing lids. A look of sorrow or possibly understanding was on the dog's face.

  "No one showed me any sympathy that day in the hall," Brian wailed. “In my whole life no one has ever put an arm around my shoulder and said, ‘keep your chin up everything's gonna be all right’."

  Brian chopped at the water with his knife to underscore each word.

  "You know what people for me? Laugh, that's all, just laugh."

  Tears thundered from his eyes like a rainstorm.

  "Let me tell you what, mighty Zeus. One day people are going to respect me. Don't you respect me? Answer me you flea‑bag!"

  Brian slashed the dog who was too weak to move and merely accepted the boy's indignation.

  "Maybe there's hope for you yet, pal. I tell you what. I'll let you borrow my guardian angel. Hah!"

  He swung his leg over the animal's back straddling him again.

  "In other words, buddy‑row, no one's going to help you! I'm going to hurt you bad. The good book says it's better to give than to receive. Well here's my chance to make up for some lost time."

  The St. Bernard‑‑even in its debilitated state‑‑let out a morose mewl.

  "Life's a bitch, Bowser," Brian said eye‑to‑eye with the dog. "There are only two kinds of people in this world. Ones that get stepped on and the ones that do the stepping . . .. Won't the Tadster cry when you don't come home? When he realizes you're never coming home? Let him feel a little pain in his perfect life."

  "No one kicks with me without getting kicked back. And when it's me doing the deed, it's a deed that won't be forgotten. One day people will come to me for answers. One day I'll be having the cheerleaders."

  Brian watched Zeus close his eyes for the last time.

  His hands were covered. The weight of the dog's head caused it to easily slip through his fingers. It settled with a splash on the creek bottom. Brian thought about making some hackneyed pledge to Satan, but gave up the idea thinking that his allegiance would fall on deaf ears. Even without the oath he felt that a homage had been paid to vileness; a partnership that instead of making him feel remorse, made him feel god-like.

  Instead of making a pact with a devil of myth, he vowed to become him. For in terror and debauchery there was an authority, vitality, and power, which he had never felt before in his retched existence.

  He cupped his hands and captured blood and brought it to his face. The delight was orgasmic to Brian. He squeezed, letting drops of blood drip on his face, and a new resilience entered his being. The fluid found its way to the corner of his mouth and he reveled in its saltiness and raw promise.

  He began to see the sights and hear the sounds, to think the thoughts and feel the emotions of the St. Bernard. He was be able to commune with another of god's creatures—another life. This glory quickly erased the few second thoughts Brian had along the way. For not only did he steal Zeus's memories, but he stole his life force. He hungered for more.

  When the Robertsons began to wonder about Zeus's whereabouts later that night they would have no idea the pleasure their pet had brought. Tad had no way of knowing that it was the beginning of a killing spree that would follow Brian through ten years as a navy officer only to culminate in Virginia Beach. When the family‑‑first shocked, then saddened, and then finally enraged over the loss of the family pet found the remains that took the situation the police. No one had any way of understanding the restitution and rapture the act had brought to the spirit of the killer. And when the Robertson's finally laid Zeus to rest near Mrs. Robertson's rosebush, not for a second did they appreciate how lucky they were to have escaped with their own lives. Nearly twenty years later in Virginia Beach, it would have taken a bigger hole to bury the dead than could be made with a boy scout shovel.

  CHAPTER 15

  PRESENT DAY

  Brian Speakes, who now calls himself Abaddon was awakened in his penthouse by Phil Goshen.

  Abaddon was always short‑fused upon waking, especially since the mutation. He fought off the urge to send the small man away‑‑like he had done so many times when Phil was third in command on the "Michigan". He wanted to return to his dreams. The dreams of a Apoc were notably vivid, and Abaddon's more than most. He assumed his dreams were portents of his destiny as leader of the virus‑stricken group. Another reason Abaddon ached to roll over and go back to sleep because that was when the MDR‑V6 Virus did most of its changes. The virus ran rampant in the body of the sleeping host.

  "I'm so sorry to bother you Abaddon, but you instructed me to wake you if there was any progress. I have extremely good news on two important counts."

  Abaddon stared at the balding man with disgust. Phil's head had been too small for his body even before the change. Now with his lack of hair, it looked more like a skull than head. Phil's deep‑set eyes‑‑black with a tinge of red‑‑had a rat‑like quality. The skin that covered his head and lips didn't have the scaly look that Abaddon and the others had. His was more the green‑brown look of an infected scab.

  "Abaddon, I said I have the information that you wanted," he said as bewilderment filled his face.

  "Good news you say?" Abaddon asked. His eyes narrowed with understanding.

  Phil watched with rapt attention as Abaddon swung his feet to the floor exposing the semi-naked girl at his side. He licked his lips staring at the soft white of her buttocks visible amidst the satin sheets. The blonde-haired girl with a cheerleader sweater looked no more than eighteen. This girl was only two days into the change so her skin was still soft and unmarred. Many times after tiring of a woman, Abaddon would pass them along to Phil. He begged Abaddon for them before they changed too much.

  Abaddon cleared his throat to refocus Phil's attention.

  "Ah yes," Phil said. He turned the pages on his clipboard. "Things are on track for the attack on the base. The Navy has stepped up the Kennedy Deployment Group to Saturday."

  "I don't understand, Phil? The Roosevelt Battle‑group isn't supposed to be back until late next week?"

  "The Roosevelt group is diverting, they're not coming back here until things are more stable."

  "What's happening around here?"

  "Everyone's been called back to the ships and confined to base. All the planes at Oceana and NAS have left. Even the Air Force has been moving their planes away from Langley."

  "What about the subs?" Abaddon asked.

  "There are just two 'boomers' left that are seaworthy, the 'Miami' and our's, the 'Michigan'. They're both heading out with the deployment on Saturday."

  "Is Captain Turkingham taking the Michigan out?"

  "I don't know for sure Abaddon. I would have to assume that he would be. He's the only one left from our original crew. He said he'd die on that boat."

  Abaddon closed his eyes in deep thought. Phil's eyes, meanwhile, were like hot fire on the girl’s near-pristine skin, the kind Abaddon liked best. Abaddon wouldn't allow him to linger long.

  "That's exactly what I want to make sure happens to the bastard anyway."

  The Captain busted Abaddon for putting to shore and leaving the vessel when they ran aground near the Azores. It was Abaddon's insubordination that caused the sub to hit the reef that day. The Captain had to be flown out of Madeira because of his ga
ll bladder. There was a small military operation to the South located on the Island of St. Philippe. All that was known of the installation was that it was highly secret and highly off-limits. The submarine ran aground when Abaddon ignored the advice of the Navigator. Unable to raise help from anyone on the base he put ashore with a small reconnaissance party. Abaddon and Phil had been in that landing party and seen the carnage on the small island. Instead of being a military base, it had been a military research facility.

  The laboratory animals ran wild and several had to be shot. They display symptoms resembled rabies. Dead and ravaged people were scattered everywhere. First thought was that the animals had caused the slaughter, then they saw their first virus victim. Phil had been with Abaddon when they entered the scientist's labs. That was when Abaddon was attacked. Phil was next in line for the key to the missiles when Abaddon was put in sick bay and relieved of his command. Before the submarine entered the Port of Hampton Roads the entire crew was infected.

  "Did we get anyone else we can use last night in the raids?" Abaddon asked.

  "We got two officers, three marines, and six MP's. That's where we got most of this information. According to the MP's by Thursday all that'll be left will be the MP's and marines."

  "Then if we move we'll need to move between Thursday and Saturday morning."

  Abaddon caught Phil scrutinizing the new pink-skin covering the right side of his face. It ran from his temple to just right of the cheek. It was the color of dead flesh. Dark blue veins coursed through the skin's surface and the facial muscles were visible.

  "Phil, I want you to round up all the former members of our crew and any other men with submarine experience and setup a meeting for later tonight. We have to figure out if this plan is feasible. Plus get me any radarmen, nuclear weapons handlers, and all the MPs and marines that we have. I want them at this meeting too. If we don't have the right men for the job we'll have to forget it and move ahead on our other alternative."

  "I just don't understand what you want to do with the sub once we get it.”

  "I plan on getting us a little life insurance. We're too vulnerable, too easy of a target, and even more so once the Navy pulls out. And that's another thing, I just can't believe that the good ole' US Navy is just going to up and leave without a fight. We have to protect ourselves. We need time to grow and to organize. Right now we have an advantage. At this point they think we're animals, something to be eliminated‑‑exterminated. We need to get people's attention, but until then we need a place that's safe. Ideally, I'd pick Arizona, it's nice and dry, but it's just too damn far away. Maybe Florida? Anyway we'll talk about it at the meeting tonight.

  "At any rate‑‑for your own knowledge‑‑if we decide to take the subs I plan on taking both. And I plan on using them too."

  "Using them? For what, Abaddon?"

  "To make a point, to let them know that we mean business. With twenty‑two submarine launched ballistic misssiles on each, I think we can afford to take out a city or two to emphasis a point."

  “But Abaddon we’re getting along just fine. Every night our numbers increase. Every night we add more booty to the kitty. We’re becoming a force to be reckoned with. All you have to do is be patient.”

  Abaddon backhanded Phil so hard he left his feet and smashed into the wall. Phil slowly rose to his feet. “Sorry,” he said with downcast eyes.

  "Phil, what's the last you heard on Rudy Devasquez in D.C.?"

  "Last I heard‑‑and what I'm hearing is only coming from the news‑‑he has about two hundred or so. Mostly homeless or drunks, pretty much the way we started out. Every time he starts to venture out and takes over a neighborhood, the feds slap him down. They're using him as an example of how to deal with us. I could try to get him on the phone."

  "Send a couple people up tonight. Better yet, I want you to go yourself. I mean who knows better‑‑next to me of course‑‑how to set up a panic, and build up the numbers. I don't expect it to be easy. You know how much he hates me for changing him over. Kill him if he doesn't cooperate. Shit, kill him anyway. I never did like the greasy bastard anyway."

  Phil thought it was strange how easy it was for Abaddon to order the killing of one of his former shipmates. But what scared Phil worse is he knew it was getting easier and easier for he himself to kill.

  "I want you to start off with the street people. From what I've heard, Rudy has been going right to the best areas‑‑the homes of the senators and congressmen‑‑and trying to wreak havoc. Of course the Feds and the FBI are going to step on him. Anyway, build up the ranks, and then when you do hit, hit hard! And hit them where it hurts the most‑‑the White House. I want this not only to be a diversion, I want this to be a message."

  Abaddon rubbed his chin with his claw‑shaped hand, deep in thought he said, "You mentioned other news?"

  "Yes‑‑ah‑‑it's about the TV thing."

  "They got me the satellite up‑link I wanted?"

  "Better than that I have someone who wants to talk to you."

  "Is it Lieutenant McCullough?"

  "No word from him yet I'm afraid."

  "Phil I'm not in the mood to play games. Who the hell is it and what has it got to do with the TV thing?"

  "It's a guy named Colin Black he's from the Glorified Church of God. He has a message from the Reverend Ira for you."

  "Reverend Ira? For me? What is it?"

  "We don't know. He won't talk to anyone but you."

  "Sounds like some foolish little game. I've already had my fill of playing around with the Good Reverend Ira."

  "Abaddon . . . he asked to talk specifically with Brian Speakes."

  Abaddon's eyes shot up and the crimson in his pupils burned like fire. The young girl had stirred next to him in the bed. He had forgotten about her.

  "Brian Speakes," she said. She looked like she learned a secret worthy of blackmail.

  An electric shock coursed through Abaddon's grotesque body. His muscles tensed, his eyes tinged with a fiery crimson, then he sprung at her. The girl‑‑looking even younger and more defenseless now that she was awake‑‑sat frozen bolt upright on the bed. With one swipe of his giant claw‑like hand he struck the girl on the face, sending her head careening off the bed onto the floor. Her headless body lay there oozing the infection onto the sheets. Her face on the floor still registered a look of surprise as her limbs twitched out a death‑dance of post‑mortem muscle reactions.

  "This Colin Black," Abaddon said. He had already regained his composure. "He must have something he feels is worth risking his life. Send the holy roller in, Phil. And Phil‑‑"

  "Yes Abaddon?"

  "Get someone to clean that mess up too."

  Phil glanced one last time at the ruined body of the girl and was glad to be leaving the room.

  Abaddon was at the large vanity mirror when the two Apoc guards entered the room. Without turning or glancing up in the mirror he could feel the presence of their empty minds.

  Abaddon swung around in a motion so quick and sudden it left the one guard blinking in consternation. The other guard was staring with an open mouth at the dead girl on the bed. Abaddon could sense this one's rage beginning to surge.

  Instead of being apprehensive or pugnacious, Abaddon gawked at the larger of the two guards and realized he was nothing more than a large boy. He could sense something more than rage, a savage fury climaxing. Stepping toward the bed and he said, "Son, do you have a problem?" He was clearly taunting him. "You act like you know that thing?"

  The boy's eyes‑‑who even as an Apoc were small and deep‑sunken‑‑had grown as large as gorged leeches. They bulged scarlet in their sockets. Shaking with pain and hurt he said, "That thing was my sister!"

  "Well isn't that poetic‑justice. One thing to take care of another thing.”

  Abaddon could feel the red‑hot emotions rolling off the boy like heat from a furnace. He loved this game.

  "What's your name boy?" Abaddon asked.

 
; The boy made no move to speak he just glared and shook.

  "I said what's your goddamn name boy?"

  "Jimmy Barnes."

  "Well Jimmy, let me tell you where the bear shits in the buckwheat. That slime‑bag you called your sister got a little nosy. So for a little fun I ripped off her head. Now if you don't want the same treatment I would suggest you gather her up now. Take her out and burn her." Abaddon laughed and turned his back on Jimmy as a move of defiance.

  Jimmy was shaking so bad it looked like convulsions. It looked as if tiny prickles of red‑hot electricity were surging through his powerful body. The searing grip of Abaddon’s mind control went out without visible effort, the vile creature held him like a vice as the boy tried to move.

  Abaddon continued to laugh mockingly as he moved back to the mirror. He felt very indomitable, robust, omnipotent. He liked little tests of his supremacy over his disciples. It was the seductive quality of authority that made this all so enticing for him. He wondered if this was how the Reverend Ira felt. He wondered what the man Colin Black had to say.

  He released the mind grip on Jimmy and instantly the hair on the nape of his scaly neck bristled.

  He turned to see Jimmy Barnes charging toward him like a bull. Jimmy had the three-foot tall, cast‑iron statue of Suwanee the Devil Dog raised over his head ready to strike.

  Abaddon threw his arms up over his head to deflect the impact of the blow that was heading for his face. A loud “crack” was heard as the weight of the statue broke the bones in his forearm.

  The pain from his arm ran like a fast burning fuse to the control center of his brain.

  Jimmy, still hanging on to the cast‑iron statue, threw it hard at Abaddon. The weight of the figurine and force of which it was thrown, propelled Abaddon backward into the large mirror. Broken shards of glass showered to the floor at his feet.

  Abaddon fought not only his attacker, but to also to regain mind control. A mental grip was the only way he could defend himself against the overwhelming opponent.

  With his unbroken arm he picked up Suwanee and flung it at Jimmy who was rushing forward for another attack. Jimmy effortlessly batted the statue out of the way, as well as the battered arm Abaddon held up to fend him off. With one hand he grasped Abaddon by the throat and lifted him.