“Any idea why the critters are eating the infected?” Shawn asked it quietly, but I heard his knuckles cracking as he squeezed his fists closed.
“Apparently, the virus starts to die within 24 to 48 hours outside of a living host. It provides the initial resurrection and subsequent maintenance of the zombie, actually repairing or replacing damaged tissues. However,” he paused, “it begins to die off quickly. They attack living people to obtain fresher viral material to keep their bodies going. It isn’t even a choice on the part of the zombie.”
“The virus compels them to do it,” I asked “or do they attack out of their own fear of dying a second time?”
“Everything seems to suggest that they are compelled by it, at least as far as pain is concerned. The viral die-off is complete and utter agony, coupled with fading cognitive and motor functions.”
Shawn cut to the chase, “That’s not the only bit of news. I mean, we sort of figured that the virus was keeping them alive. Sucks to know we can get it from touching other people and all. You’ve got something worse to tell us. Don’t you?”
Jayashri reappeared behind Baj and put her hands on his shoulders. I began to pray, silently, that he wasn’t going to tell us they were infected. Not only would we, in time, lose them to the enemy, but the chances of being infected by them scared the piss out of me.
“From my perspective, Shawn, I do have something worse to say. We had a visitor yesterday afternoon: the leader of the zombies that relocated to this area after Chain Bridge.”
My stomach curled into a knot. I didn’t really like the idea that a second intruder had made it inside our defenses. The dreadlocked dude was bad enough. I made a mental note to talk to Gina about more explosives in useful places.
“You see, my friends, I knew him when he was alive. His name was Warren Hightower, and he was the CEO of the company I worked for before things began to fall apart.” Baj looked very upset. His long face seemed more compact, as if the weight of his emotions added 20 pounds to his brow, causing it to sink and shadow his eyes. Maybe it was that weight and the combined gravity of whatever else he needed to say that kept him silent for a few minutes.
“I love you, man,” Shawn said, “but you have to finish the story. Why is Hightower a bad thing? We might be able to negotiate with a former businessman.”
Baj sighed, and from where I sat, it looked like he had to force himself to go on.
“Warren is a genius. He was also a major player in the US involvement in the Middle East for a number of years. After that, he was recruited to lead Section 41, an extraordinarily secret intersection of DARPA and the NSA. Shortly after leaving that position, he started his own company, the one I worked for as a lead programmer.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is starting to look bad for us,” Shawn said, cracking his knuckles in irritation.
Bajali snorted. “Our business was computer modeling of airborne, weaponized particulates. We also did similar things for predicting the impact of terrorist attacks with a variety of scenarios, weapons, and locations. One particular branch of the company, my group, was also tasked with design, manufacture, and programming of nanomachine systems,” he said before he paused, breathed deeply, and began again. “I strongly suspect that Hightower has access to everything we ever created. He inferred as much and offered to let us live if I would continue my work for him.”
I felt the color drain from my face. Shawn didn’t look much better. Things had taken a turn that we were absolutely unprepared to deal with.
Chapter 5
Baj told us he saw the man walking down the street before he even got close enough to knock on the front door. Apparently Warren Hightower has a swagger that is hard to miss once you’ve seen it. Then again, any well-dressed stranger is worth noting if you happen to be looking out your window at just the right time.
After getting his breathing under control, he called down to Jayashri and quickly detailed his plan to properly greet the Devil that was about to knock on the front door. She agreed, started the water boiling for tea, and adjusted her sari. For himself, Baj combed his hair, splashed some water on his face, and composed himself a tiny bit more.
There was a knock on the door, and he heard his wife attend to greeting their guest.
“Mister Hightower. Bajali has been expecting you for some time. Do come in,” she said with a delightful lilt in her voice. “May I serve you tea?”
He heard them moving around the living room and how she gently suggested where their guest should sit. It was the chair with the clearest line of sight from the kitchen, and all Baj could think was that he had married an utterly irreplaceable woman.
“Mrs. Sharma, I would very much enjoy tea. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“My pleasure. Please, sit. This is a very comfortable chair for our guests who have a more Western sense of how a seat should be. Bajali will be with you shortly. I am sure you know how difficult it is to pull him away from a project.”
Hightower laughed gently. Bajali was well known for how deeply he could sink into any project that caught his attention, and he remembered the ribbing he had received from everyone.
“Yes, Bajali could ignore almost anything in favor of his work,” the guest said, “except for you. Now that I’ve met you, I can understand why.”
“You are too kind,” she replied, “I will bring you tea. Do you take sugar and cream?”
“Yes. Thank you again.”
Jayashri floated off into the kitchen, leaving Hightower alone in the living room, relaxing in an astoundingly comfortable easy chair. Bajali called down to his wife in the kitchen, speaking in Hindi. Then he walked downstairs and crossed into the room.
Hightower started to stand.
“No, Mister Hightower, there’s no need to be so formal. Be at ease.” Bajali sat in the chair opposite him, separated by a roughly hewn wood coffee table.
‘Bajali, I can’t tell you how nice it is to be greeted with something other than an armed response,” he smiled that winning smile, made unfortunate only by how far his gums had receded, “and that dovetails so neatly into what I came to talk to you about.”
Baj related the bill of goods Hightower attempted to sell him on. It sounded wonderful, if you were a zombie: a peaceful meeting of the minds where X percent of the population would be kept as cattle for the undead to feed upon, and the rest of mankind was left alone to pursue their lives. Better yet! Given time, the two societies might integrate again and build a new future for the entire planet!
I think we all rolled our eyes when we heard that. Shawn looked more like he wanted to hand back his dinner at a supersonic speed, but he managed to control the reflex with the sheer force of his willpower.
Our friend had more to share, and we swallowed our disgust long enough to listen.
“I must tell you, Baj, I was uncertain of the welcome I would receive were I to visit you. I am moved, deeply moved, by your hospitality and warmth.”
“Well, you know, Mister Hightower, greeting guests in a civilized manner has been practiced and refined for thousands of years in India.” Baj reported this segment of the conversation with an insane, obsequious smile on his face, and I can only imagine what it had looked like during the original chat.
His guest complimented him on his superb hospitality for a final time, and urged him to pass the regards along to Mister and Mrs. Sharma, Senior, if ever the opportunity presented itself.
Bajali laughed heartily and replied, “It isn’t that different in India, you know. I will tell them you spoke well of the results of their hard labor. I suspect they will be pleased.”
At this point in the visitation, Jayashri brought in the tea, poured them both a cup, inquired about lumps of sugar and milk before deftly stirring each cup, and retreated softly into the kitchen. She added, to us, that she found the nearest firearm as soon as the tea service was safely settled on the countertop.
“She is... so graceful.” Hightower sipped the tea, sti
ll smiling.
“She never ceases to amaze me. So, what brings you to my home? It has been quite a while since we last conversed. I believe you were on a flight to Baghdad at the time.”
“Yes, I’d called you to get an update on the A-344 program. That’s why I’m here now, as a matter of fact. I would like you to continue your work on that project for me.”
“I hardly have the facilities for such a thing, with the world changing as it has,” Bajali replied. As an aside to us, he explained that the mere mention of the A-344 program was enough to reveal how our neighbor planned to bring about his perfect world of coexistence.
Hightower nodded at him, “I know. I still have all the equipment, materials, and data in a new location. All you have to do is come on board and we can finish A-344.”
“May I ask why you would be interested in such a thing,” Bajali waved his hand idly in the air, “after you’ve gone through the change in your life?” The question was superfluous, really, because he knew full well what the answer would be. He simply wanted to soothe his soul over the truth, before he made the decision to try and kill his guest.
“Let me tell you why,” and Hightower explained what was known about the virus, how it operates in the human host, and his plan to make a herd of human cattle for the zombie population.
“Ah.” Bajali did not let his disgust show because he had predicted his work could be used in such a manner: selectively targeting and infecting a swath of the population. “I can see that you’ve given this the thought it deserves. Indeed, I can see how you have come to the conclusion this would bring stability to the situation, if not actual peace.”
“I knew you would understand, Bajali. The big picture was never lost on you.”
They sat quietly for some minutes, sipping tea.
Baj told us he had truly expected some sort of threat to be delivered during those tea-laden moments. He was aware that in certain circles there was an unspoken rule that you never threaten the family of a man from whom you need something. A family man would gladly force you to kill him, thereby saving his loved ones, rather than allow them to be harmed. Any threats had to be intensely personal and backed up by action, until the subject broke. Then you could threaten the family with impunity.
Surprisingly enough, no threat appeared. With no threat, there was less certainty that action was necessary, or so Bajali felt. Instead, he tried a delaying tactic in hopes it would give us more time to figure out a course of action.
“Warren? May I call you Warren?”
“Of course, Bajali.”
“Warren, I would like to have a day or two to think this over. We are, after all, talking about altering the world as we have known it in a way that makes the fear of climate change look like small potatoes.”
“Absolutely! I would not have it any other way. If two days will help you work with me, then I will gladly spend them.”
“Thank you so much, Warren. I will discuss this with Jayashri, if you do not mind. She is, in so many ways, my better half.”
“Please do. I tell you what, I’ll drop by again in two days and we can review the details. Will that work for you?”
“I think that would be marvelous. May I pour you more tea?”
“I would, but I do have a schedule to keep, and I walked here. It will take a bit of time to get back to our staging area, and I’ll have to refresh the virus when I arrive.”
“Ah. In that case, don’t let me keep you.”
Bajali escorted his former employer to the front door. They shook hands with smiles and promises to speak again in two days. Hightower left and strolled down the street with a swing in his step.
Bajali closed the door, leaned up against it, and took a deep breath. There was a metallic click behind him, and he turned to see his wife standing in the doorway between rooms. She had just released the hammer on the .44 Magnum she was holding in her delicate hands.
“My love, did we not decide the 9mm fit your hand better than the .44?”
“Yes, my treasure, but we don’t have soft, jacketed hollow points for the 9. I was also concerned about needing more than one round to destroy his skull with the smaller pistol.”
At that point, he walked over to her, embraced her, kissed her on the forehead and said, “I am never disappointed when I trust your judgment. You are the finest part of my life.”
Chapter 6
“Fuck me,” Shawn said, blinked, and added, “Oh shit! I’m sorry for my rough language there, Jayashri!”
“Oh no, I’m not the least bit bothered. I have said many similar things about this situation; I just did it in Hindi at the top of my lungs.”
“Is that what that was this afternoon? I thought the two of you were having a knockdown, drag-out fight or something,” Shawn commented.
Baj and Jayashri laughed and shook their heads in an eerily coordinated movement. I’d seen them do things like that in the past and took it as a sign that their family matchmakers had really done an amazing job or that there were alien pods somewhere in the house. We already had zombies. We just don’t need bug-eyed monsters at the same time.
“Not to interrupt this discussion about etiquette in the face of the apocalypse, but we need to have some sort of plan,” I said.
“Well, that is why I called the two people I respect the most,” Baj smiled, “over for dinner. You are an impressively cynical person, and Shawn is a walking repository of country common sense. Between the four of us, I can’t imagine we won’t think of something.”
“Thanks, Baj,” Shawn said, grinning like an idiot. “I have to say, it doesn’t feel like I get much appreciation for anything other than ‘Dude? Can ya fix that?’ and it just warms my heart that you feel that way... ”
I cut him off. “Shawn, okay. We all love you and think that not only does your shit not stink but you’re our local Leo-fucking-nardo da Vinci. I’m not gonna hug you, but I would fuck your sister.”
His eyes crossed and he may have turned a little green at the thought of me enjoying a carnal embrace with his sibling. Jayashri’s eyes were a little wide, and Baj was coughing gently behind his hand.
“All right. Baj is the resident genius, which means he’s already thought of a couple of ways to approach this.” I continued, regardless of the facial expressions, “I’m betting he’s thought of the old ‘Go Along With It So I Can Sabotage The Project,’ the ‘Kill The Fucker Now,’ and maybe even ‘We Are Going To Flee And Hope He Doesn’t Find Us.’ Am I missing anything?”
“I had also considered going along with it in order to give the human race more time to fight and find some sort of cure or vaccine. To be honest, I also considered that suicide could be a valid option. Of course, the karma involved in any of these options is difficult to contemplate. I’d prefer not to be reincarnated as a weevil.”
“Nobody dies, at least none of us at this table. Can we agree on that point,” I asked, holding out my hands, expecting agreement.
Everyone made noises of assent or nodded at the very least. I wasn’t worried they’d disagree. Really.
My esteemed country boy, mechanical genius, and sibling to my imaginary love interest, tossed out an excellent question.
“Is there any way to use the nanomachines to kill the virus in the zombies?”
“Based on what I understand, Shawn, it doesn’t look possible,” Bajali answered. “It might be, but making a change like that to the base programming would be obvious enough that Hightower or one of his minions would know something was amiss.”
“Silly question, but if the virus can’t be grown in the lab, how are you going to get enough of it to spread?” That part didn’t make sense to me.
“Since the virus is healthiest in living humans, the particles would harvest the infectious material from people who already have it and spread it to the designated population within a 24-hour period.”
I nodded my head and asked, “Would it be possible to use the nanos to strip all of the virus out of people who are infe
cted and then self-destruct?”
“I had thought of that, but it becomes an issue of particle-to-virus density. If one nanomachine can destroy one infected blood cell, you have to manufacture enough particles so every infected cell is effectively targeted.” He put his teacup in the middle of the table. “If you have enough infected cells to fill this teacup, then what will be destroyed is twice that because it is both the particles and the cells.”
Shawn and I nodded, following along.
“Now, you have two tea cups of material. How should the particles destruct? Heat? Micro-explosions? A teacup of explosive material powerful enough to destroy two teacups completely is not a small detonation.”
“Okay, yeah, but how much virus does one person have in them anyway?” Shawn asked.
“Have you ever had a bad cold, Shawn?” Bajali asked in response.
“Yeah, not too long ago.”
“The mucus your body expels,” Baj explained, “contains cells that have consumed the cold virus. About how much did you blow your nose when you had the cold?”
“A whole lot. Oh. I see. All the snot I had would be like the particles and the virus. Damn.”
“Exactly. Let us imagine a teacup of infected cells as an estimate for someone experiencing a moderate level of infection.” We nodded. “Imagine the explosion of a teacup-size bomb spread out through a human body.”
Shawn and I had no trouble imagining it, based on how we groaned at the thought.
He continued, “If it could be done, it would certainly erase the zombies from the planet, but there would be a huge amount of collateral damage from human being-sized bombs going off everywhere. The only other method would be to build nano-material that would strip the virus from infected cells and render the material inert. Unfortunately, there would still be apparent alterations to the particle design, to say nothing of the waste material that would be created.”
I sipped my tea. It was wonderfully tasty cardamom-flavored tea that would, under the best circumstances, relax the Hell right out of me. At that moment, I was using it to swish around in my mouth to cudgel my brain into coming up with an idea that Baj hadn’t.
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