The Apocalypse War: The Undead World Novel 7

by Meredith, Peter

  She knew this, of course but it physically pained her to be in the same room with her victim. “I—I only saw men with guns, you know, army man guns, but they had these tents that had different kinds, too. I was in one and they had big machine guns and also grenades.”

  Johnston cocked his head at this. “You know about grenades.”

  “Yes,” she said and didn’t add: I’ve killed people with them, lots of times.

  “What about tanks? Did they have any of them?” She nodded and his face grew grim. “How many tanks did they have?”

  The Azael had two tanks which were always kept far down the road from where everyone camped. Jillybean raised two fingers and the general couldn’t seem to decide if that was a good or bad thing; his face suggested both. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment and then reached for his coffee mug.

  This is it! Eve cried. A sharp pain lanced Jillybean’s insides as her guilt became almost a physical presence in her chest, growing and growing and, as it did, the other girl grew as well.

  The general picked up the mug and then set it down on the side of his desk. Then, as Jillybean practically wilted with relief, he dug out a book from a drawer and opened it up.

  “Is this the tank you saw?” He pointed to a picture of a green army tank that had a gun the size of a tree trunk poking out the front. The picture was titled M1A1 Abrams.

  She shook her head. “The ones they have, gots wheels on them.” He flipped pages in the book until he found a picture marked M1126 Infantry Carrier Vehicle. “That’s it,” she said.

  “With this kind of gun on the top?” The picture showed a canon like the other tank had sticking out of the front of the vehicle.

  “No. It had machine gun.”

  The general looked sick and somewhat relieved at the same time. “They’re Strykers and they can be pretty tough. But at least they don’t have real tanks. That means we have a chance. Not a very good chance, but still a chance.” He closed the book, composed himself, placing a fatherly look over his anxiety and asked: “What about the number of men?”

  Jillybean was quick to answer: “Five thousand.”

  This shocked the fatherly look right off the general’s face. “Five thousand? And how many zombies are there?”

  “Half a million,” Jillybean answered. She’d heard the number bantered around by everyone in the camp. The Azael seemed very proud of it, though she didn’t know why.

  “That’s...that’s too many,” he said in a whisper. “We’ll never win.” He grabbed up his mug and stood, turning from Jillybean to stare at a flag-sized map of the valley that was pinned to the wall.

  He just stood there, staring as the seconds ticked by and the ache in Jillybean’s stomach flared greater than ever. She wanted him the drink his coffee and get it over with. Eve did as well, knowing that when the general died the guilt would be too much for Jillybean and she would hide away inside herself and then Eve would be in charge and she would do hideous things so that Jillybean would be too ashamed to ever come out again.

  Almost to spite them both, the general slowly raised the mug, his eyes and mind on the map. As much Eve wanted, Jillybean couldn’t watch. She hopped up heading for the door when something about the map caught her eye. It was marked up with red lines; two of which followed the highways heading into town, routes 34 and 36.

  The red ink stopped as it neared the town but the roads did not. They merged and then went west into the mountains. “What are those little Xs?” she asked. Just shy of where the red lines ended were a series of small Xs on both highways.

  He had been about to drink from the mug but paused and pointed at the map. “That’s where the walls are,” he answered. The cup came back up, however Jillybean didn’t notice, her mind was suddenly too engrossed in an idea or at least the beginning of an idea. It was there, a plan, just on the verge, but she couldn’t visualize it.

  “Does this place have a roof, one I can get out on?”

  The mug came down as he answered: “No, but there’s a cupola that gives you a view of the entire...”

  She remembered the cupola and guessed which set of stairs led to it. “Don’t drink that,” she said, tugging at his arm. “Put it down and come on.”

  He said something however she couldn’t hear what. Eve was screaming in her mind, drowning everything else out: What are you doing? Make him drink that coffee!

  “No,” Jillybean hissed as she barreled out the door. Neil had been leaning against the far wall and now he came forward, a surprised look on his face. He too was speaking words that went right past her. She knew what she was doing was rude and so she paused and said: “I can save them,” as way of explanation.

  Johnston looked doubtful, Neil hopeful, while Eve was angry. You’re not smart enough, the evil girl said.

  “I am, too,” Jillybean replied over her shoulder. She was already running down the hall to the central stair, figuring that since the cupola was in the exact middle of the roof this was the logical way to go. With Neil and General Johnston following, she made it to the top of the building. The view was fantastic, but it wasn’t jarring the half-formed idea out of her head; Eve was filling her mind with so much static, it was hard to think clearly.

  Johnston came up right after the little girl and stood staring out at the million dollar view. Neil came up much slower, panting and holding his side. “What’s the plan?” he asked between gasps.

  “I...I don’t know,” Jillybean answered. “It’s right here.” She touched her forehead. “But I can’t get it out. Eve won’t let me. Maybe...maybe if I saw the map again.”

  “Sure, I’ll just...uh, zip down and get it.”

  The general stopped him. “I’ll get it, Neil. You clearly haven’t acclimated to the altitude at all.” Johnston left, going at a quick clip, breathing easily.

  “Show off,” Neil said, his mangled face turning softer with his boyish smile. He looked out and said: “Wow, it sure is pretty up here. So...you’ve got a plan. Good...good, uh, is it coming to you yet?”

  Eve began to shriek like a mandrill and Jillybean could only stuff her hands over her ears and shake her head. The worry on Neil’s face over Jillybean bizarre actions was plain to see but he tried his best to pretend like nothing was wrong. “Take your time.”

  She didn’t think there was time to waste. Unable to sit still, she began to pace, her anxiety mounting. Time was suddenly important to her and after a few minutes of pacing she realized that the general should have been back with the map already.

  Oh, I wonder what could have happened, Eve said with theatrical innocence before sending a moving picture into Jillybean’s mind: the general walking briskly down into his office, pausing to take a big slug of his coffee, downing half of it before his face squinches up. The taste is off but he doesn’t think poison, not yet. He then takes down the map, gently because he is, after all, only humoring the girl. He even takes the time to fold the map and that’s when his stomach rolls over unpleasantly.

  Something wrong with the coffee, he thinks and picks up the mug and gives it a sniff. It smells ok and so he takes another sip: fine but a touch sour. With a shrug, he sets it down, turns toward the door whereupon his stomach rolls again, sharply this time, causing him to stop, one hand holding his gut. Something is definitely wrong only he doesn’t consider it anything beyond a possible new case of diarrhea. He pauses there in his office doorway rubbing his stomach until he decides: better safe than sorry.

  In his top drawer is a bottle of Pepto Bismal in pill form—he had never liked the liquid stuff and in this case, not having it kills him. The liquid would have coated his stomach, slowing the absorption of the cyanide; the pink pills had to dissolve first and by the time they do, he’s already dead.

  Two minutes before that occurrence, he swallows a couple of the pills, chucks the bottle back in the drawer, grabs the map and presses on in the army way, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

  He hurries back to the stairs and finds
himself curiously out of breath. At the third floor, he has to stop and suck in the thin air and for the first time starts to worry that something is very wrong with him. As he makes his way to the cupola, his head begins to spin and he can’t gasp hard enough to fill his lungs enough. Just outside the door he collapses.

  Just then, there was indeed a real thump from beyond the door, only it wasn’t just a single soft noise as Eve envisioned. There was a series of them—the unmistakable sound of someone falling down the stairs. Jillybean jumped to the door, feeling her soul coming unglued from her body. Her hand goes clumsy on the door as though her skin was too large for her bones. She fumbled twice for the knob before Neil pushed her hand away and opened it himself.

  There at the bottom of the stairs sprawled General Johnston lying in a contorted jumble of arms and legs. There was pink foam coming from his mouth. As Jillybean stood there in shock, he started to twitch; first just a foot and then his entire body. He spazzed for a few seconds, his head making hollow noises as it knocked against the concrete wall, and then Neil was flying down the stairs.

  Too late. The general was dead and it felt as though Jillybean was next. Her world spun into black and she found herself falling into nothingness.

  Chapter 30

  Sadie Walcott

  The news of General Johnston’s death from “unknown” causes reached every ear within forty minutes. The news that Jillybean was in the valley took much longer and yet, somehow Sadie guessed it right away.

  The general had been in great shape and Sadie knew that he “hadn’t just died.” That was laughable and it meant that someone had killed him. Few people in the valley could have killed him and not a one had a reason to. That meant he had been killed by someone from outside—one of the Azael? Not likely or the cause of death would have been revealed in order to stoke the anger of the people.

  No, Neil had purposely kept the cause of death a mystery, and Sadie knew him well enough to know that it meant there was an element of shame involved.

  Within a minute of her hearing the news, she was up and out of bed. A shaken and distraught Veronica Hennesy had woken her to tell her the news, though she did so in a generic, factless manner. “Neil wants to see you,” she added once Sadie’s eyes had focused. This was an even greater tell that Jillybean was there. Jillybean had been their shared responsibility, and their shared failure; she would be the only reason Neil would want to talk to her so soon after a beloved figure had died.

  “At the clinic?” Sadie asked and only got a slow nod in return from Veronica who seemed too stunned for any other response.

  Sadie walked past her and left the little place she shared with Neil. The morning sun was dazzling causing Sadie to blink and squint until her eyes adjusted.

  “How was guard duty?” Veronica asked from behind her. “Scary?”

  The casualties among the soldiers had been adding up and so Sadie had volunteered to stand guard on one of the lonesome hills surrounding the valley. The dark had been intense and throughout the night there had been a thousand secretive sounds coming from all around her. “Yeah, it was.” Scary didn’t quite cover it.

  Now she was scratchy eyed, yawning and, besides guessing that Jillybean was behind the death, she was slow witted. A run seemed like the thing to wake her up and so she politely refused Veronica’s offer of a ride and took off across the valley.

  It was an easy eight minute mile for her and she was barely winded when she jogged up the steps of the clinic. The place was crowded, filled mostly with stern-faced soldiers who looked on the verge of either crying or breaking something with their bare fists.

  Sadie wormed her way through them, fighting to get to Captain Grey’s room where the throng was greatest and the silence heaviest. Neil was there and when the two locked eyes, Sadie’s suspicions were confirmed. “Where is she?” Sadie asked, keeping her voice low and her head turned away from the men.

  “In Marybeth’s old room but...but it’s not her. It’s the other girl.”

  This wasn’t a shocker either. Sadie gave Neil a squeeze on the arm and slipped through the men, finding Marybeth’s old room curiously unguarded. She went in, closing the door quickly behind her.

  Jillybean was sitting on a gurney, her left hand cuffed to the railing. The little girl looked like she had gone through hell in the past two weeks—her arms were bruised in a dozen places, her face had healing scabs in four more and both her eyes had fading green and purple half-moons beneath them.

  She’d been beaten. She had volunteered to go back to detonate the bombs and she had paid the price for her courage and that included losing the last of her mind.

  Two other women were in the room: Deanna was one and a steely-eyed sergeant the other. The sergeant was dressed in camo, her hair sat in a severe bun atop her head, and her hand never left the grip of her pistol. The room was as silent as a tomb.

  “Can I have a few minutes alone with her?” Sadie asked. “I’d like to talk to her.”

  The sergeant answered: “No. The governor told me not to leave her side.”

  “I speak for the governor,” Deanna said. “It’ll be ok. Please go wait outside the door.” There was so much calm authority in her voice that the sergeant only hesitated a second before obeying.

  “Do you mind leaving as well?” Sadie asked Deanna. “I’d like to...”

  Deanna interrupted, saying in a hard tone: “I’m staying.”

  “I want her to stay,” Jillybean said. “I want to apologize to both of you and to everyone. The Azael made me do it. I didn’t want to kill the nice general, but the duke said he would kill all the sex-women if I didn’t. He beat them until they begged me to do it and he beat me, too, see?” She pointed at her battered face.

  “Do you have any proof of this?” Deanna asked.

  “I don’t have any fingerprints or nothing like that if that’s what you mean. I just have that last pill I was going to swallow. I was supposed to give the general all four but I knew I couldn’t live with myself knowing I had done such a bad thing. I was going to suicide myself and that’s what means I was going to eat the same poison, only I fainted and Mister Neil found the pill.”

  Sadie glanced at Deanna whose look was softening. “How much of that is true?” Sadie asked her.

  “All of it, as far as I know. The partial remains of three pills were found in the general’s coffee cup. Margaret Yuan thinks it was cyanide. She’s doing an autopsy right now, but she’s no expert. I think it’s moot, either way. Jillybean has confessed and Neil did find the extra pill on her, so really, it’s case-closed. The only question is what do we do with her? She says she was trying to save thirty-two women; those are some real extenuating circumstances. Coupled with her age, she would’ve gone free in the old world.”

  This statement made no sense to Sadie. “We don’t live in the old world and besides, that isn’t Jillybean. That’s Eve.”

  The little girl began vehemently shaking her head. “No, I’m Jillybean. The other girl is gone. I figured out how to lock her away. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t,” Sadie said, walking up to her bedside. She reached out a hand and the girl shied away before looking at it doubtfully. Sadie had her pinky out. Too slow, the girl realized what she was supposed to do and when she went to hook her pinky in Sadie’s, the older girl withdrew her hand.

  “You aren’t fooling me, Eve.”

  Eve glanced toward Deanna in a move that was too calculated. “You’re right, Sadie, that is Eve,” Deanna said and then let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “You had me going there for a bit, but not anymore. You’re going to pay for what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Eve replied. “It really was Jillybean. I wanted to get the hell out of this entire state, but Jillybean wouldn’t listen. You see, she really believed that by killing the general she was going to save those women. Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “What do you mean?” Deanna demanded.

  “You of all people should kno
w what’s going to happen to those women. They’re whores and they’re going to stay whores until they’re all used up or ravaged by disease. Then, if they’re lucky, they’ll be allowed to leave. They’ll get the chance to wander free in a land of monsters with nothing but the rags on their backs. No, Jillybean didn’t save anyone, not even herself. She’s locked up in my head forever.” Eve grinned, showing little kid teeth.

  Sadie recoiled from the horror that the little girl had become, however Deanna, bristling in wrath, stepped forward. “I’m glad Jillybean is gone. It’ll mean I won’t have any qualms about prosecuting you to the fullest. The penalty for murder is death.”

  “It wasn’t me, like I said. It was Jillybean. If I had killed the general, I wouldn’t have fainted and I wouldn’t have done it with a witness just outside the door and I would’ve had a getaway planned. You can’t pin this on me. This was all Jillybean.”

  “And what about Eve’s murder?” Sadie demanded. “That was all you.” The moment the words left her mouth she wanted them back. Was she really going to help put a seven-year-old to death? A girl she had once called sister?

  Eve glared, her mouth a hard line and her eyes black with hate. “I am Eve.”

  “That’s not a denial,” Deanna said and then turned to the door. She opened it and motioned the female sergeant back into the room. “Strip her all the way down, including her panties. Then I want this entire room emptied. Everything has to go, including what’s in the drawers and cabinets. Then I want the windows nailed shut and a guard kept outside that door twenty-four-seven.”

  The sergeant’s face held barely concealed puzzlement. “Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard? She’s just a little girl.”

  “No, she’s not,” Deanna shot back.

  They had no real facility to hold Eve. The town had not been looted with the same destruction as other small towns and, curiously, the local police station was the only building that had been torched.