by Tristan Vick
Alyssa did as she was told. It wasn’t as if she had any other choice. She was zapped of strength, and escape wasn’t an option right now. All she could do was go along with them and see what they had in store for her.
The nurse wheeled her out of the room and down a long corridor. They were definitely in an old hospital of some sort. It had the standard hospital lime-green walls with chipped paint and tall rickety windows with single-pane glass that let in a terrible draft. Rolling past several rooms, which had been converted to residential suites for survivors, Alyssa could see the curious eyes of entire families staring out at her as she wheeled by.
At the end of the hall they turned a corner and came into the main cafeteria. It had a glass ceiling and was well lit by the sun. There were a variety of plants filling the entire atrium, giving it a fresh airy scent. It invigorated Alyssa. Most of the tables were empty, except for a single one off to the corner of the room. At that solitary table sat a large black man with a closely trimmed beard reading a newspaper. He picked up a mug of coffee, leaned back in his chair, and sipped it as he read the sports section of the paper.
Alyssa’s eyes locked onto the eggs and crispy strips of bacon sitting on the plate next to the man’s coffee, and her mouth began to water. The nurse parked Alyssa next to the table, curtseyed to the man, and then took her leave.
Without looking up from the newspaper he said, “I do apologize for your treatment. It’s not my intention to scare you, but I must ask you something rather important.”
Alyssa continued eyeing the bacon and eggs with an overwhelming hunger. But she fought it back. “Excuse my rudeness, but who are you?” Alyssa asked.
Wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, he answered, “Please, forgive me. It’s I who have been rude. My name is Dr. Jamal Treslan. I dabble in what you might call international commerce.”
“You mean the black market?”
“Among other things. But that’s not what is important. What is important is what I can provide. And what I can provide is protection from the monsters. All I ask is for in return is a small donation and your loyalty.”
“Donation?” Alyssa asked.
“Nothing special, just a small price to pay for protection, some food, and a roof over your head. But before I get to that, I have something I would like you to take a look at for me.”
“If I agree, when I’m done will I get to leave?”
“Of course,” Treslan chuckled. “You are not a prisoner here. But resources are limited, so I need to know whether you intend to stay with us so I can accommodate you. It doesn’t need to be right away. Let’s say tomorrow, shall we?”
Alyssa nodded in conformation as she continued eyeing the crispy slices of bacon on his plate.
Putting down the paper, he looked over at Alyssa and then followed her gaze to his breakfast platter. “Oh, where are my manners? You must be starving,” Treslan said. Sliding the plate across the table, he smiled politely and offered her his untouched meal. “Would you care for some?”
“Yes,” Alyssa replied, and quickly helped herself to the bacon.
Jamal Treslan smiled again. Folding up his newspaper, he tucked it under his arm, and stood up. His six-foot three frame towered over her petite five-foot seven one. “I’ll have my men come fetch you once you’ve finished breakfast. Take your time.”
As he left, Alyssa finished the last bit of the bacon and then started on the eggs. To her delight, he had left his coffee too.
After she had finished her meal the nurse punctually arrived. She took control of the wheelchair and rolled her back down the hallway. At the end were giant glass doors leading into the ER. A couple intimidating guards stood on either side of the entrance like stoic centurions. The nurse glanced authoritatively at the guards and, without exchanging any words, they opened the heavy doors for them and let them pass.
A little farther down the fluorescent lit corridor they came to the OR entrance and went through. There were two more guards inside the room. Both were facing a large semi-transparent curtain in the back of the room. Alyssa felt herself suddenly grow anxious wondering what was behind the curtain.
Lime-green tints bathed the room in the gaseous glow of incandescent lighting. Standard medical equipment, from tongs to scalpels, gauze, anti-bacterial soap, and other medical supplies were strewn about. As the nurse pushed her closer to the curtain, Alyssa though she could hear muffled noises coming from behind it. A feeling of dread grew in the pit of her stomach, and Alyssa became extremely nervous for what she might find behind that curtain.
Parking the wheelchair, the nurse walked over and pulled back the curtain to reveal a little black girl strapped to the cold operating table. But she wasn’t a normal little girl; she was turned. She was a monster. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. What was really disturbing were the girl’s eyes. They weren’t that standard foggy white like most of the living dead—they were pitch-black. Demonic in appearance.
The small girl growled and hissed when she saw Alyssa sitting before her, but then seemed to become distracted momentarily. She looked around as if lost in thought, then snapped her head back growling and hissing some more. Her body jerked against the restraints.
“Don’t be alarmed.”
Treslan’s deep voice resounded from the corner of the room. Had he been there all along?
Approaching them, he dismissed the nurse with a wave of his hand, and she took her leave. Turning back toward the small child, Treslan said, “This is my daughter, Dahlia.”
“She’s…she is sick,” Alyssa said sympathetically.
“I have been treating her here,” Treslan stated.
Alyssa looked up at him with shock. “Treating her? With what?”
“With blood transfusions,” he answered. “It seems to be working. She was infected five days ago. Initially she was like a wild animal. Rabid. Mad. But now, she is tamer, more docile.” Jamal walked to the girl’s bedside.
He placed the back of his hand on her forehead, as if he was checking her for a fever. Alyssa was amazed that Dahlia didn’t try to snap at him. She just growled quietly.
“She seems to respond to my voice and rarely ever nips at me unless someone else is in the room with us. But she seems to have taken a liking to you,” Treslan said, smiling at Alyssa. Rather than fill her with confidence, however, for some reason his smile unnerved her deeply.
Alyssa’s attention focused back on the girl. By what Treslan had said it seemed the girl was acting on her instinctual behavior. Animal behavior. After all, humans are animals too. Take away their ability to reason and mute all the complex and messy emotions churning in their oversized heads, and they are basically just another variety of chimpanzee.
Pets protected their masters because they were territorial, but also because they could recognize kinship. This meant that somehow, deep down in Dahlia’s brain, she recognized her father. So even though she had reverted back to her most basic animalistic self, she still recognized family. It was quite fascinating, really. Alyssa couldn’t wait to jot it all down in her diary. “What do you need me for?” Alyssa asked, nervous as to what the answer might be.
“You know about animal behavior. I want your opinion as to whether or not she is showing signs of cognition or whether she is merely exhibiting the instinctual behavior of any other beast of burden.”
“In other words, you want to know if the treatments are working, correct?”
“Yes.” His voice cracked, and Alyssa realized he was a father barely holding it together. It was clear to her that Treslan believe he could save his beloved Dahlia, but the way he was going about it was grotesque—sinister even.
Alyssa had a bad feeling about all this, but tried her best to hide her uneasiness. “So you basically want to get a second opinion from someone who has a little bit of medical knowledge, is that it?”
“Can you blame me? How can I stay objective when I am her father?” Treslan rubbed his thumb lovingly over the creature’s fore
head, brushing loose strands of her hair out of her eyes. Those haunting obsidian eyes.
“I can run some tests,” Alyssa informed. “But I’ll need some things first.”
“I’ll have my men bring you whatever you need.” Jamal Treslan turned and left the room. Confined to the wheelchair, Alyssa sat there uncomfortably, staring at the creepy black-eyed zombie girl strapped to the operating table, who was staring back at her with hungry black eyes.
25
Abomination of Desolation
Raising his hands up toward the rafters, the Reverend Perry Campbell praised the Lord with a robust, “Hallelujah!” His attentive audience mimicked his devotional gesture and shouted out a hallelujah that rang throughout the entire church.
“For the day of the Lord’s wrath has cometh! And the Apocalypse is no longer nigh upon us, but it is now! Now, I know what you’re all thinking, because, to tell you the truth, I’m thinking it too. Can we survive this? Will we survive this? And I answer you, yes. Yes! We can and we will persevere. All you gotta do is have faith. Keep the faith, dear brothers and sisters. Because without faith, you’re surely lost.”
Reverend Perry Campbell was a tall, sturdy man with salt-and-pepper hair that gave him a distinguished look—the look of a politician. He scanned the room like a hungry vulture scouting for an easy meal, then adjusted his sky-blue necktie and flashed a big white smile ripe with spiritual assurances. Addressing his congregation with a sacrosanct tone, he continued on with his homily.
“Like Daniel in the lion’s den. He had unflinching faith in the face of certain despair, and so gained God’s grace and holy protection. And as with Abraham, who was obedient, ready with dagger in hand, God revealed his grace and saved Isaac! I do not deny these are hard times. But this plague, this pestilence…” the reverend said, thumping his fist on his King James Bible, “Even the dead rising from their very graves…. It was all predicted right here! In the book of Revelation. Don’t be in any way naïve about it. This is prophecy, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters. This is God’s way of telling us that his return is imminent.”
A sea of spellbound eyes fixated on him, and glimmered in the soft candle light. The electricity was out, and so every nook and cranny of the church was filled with short and stout candles, long and tall, each of various shapes, colors, and sizes. Candelabra lined the way all up and down both ends of the nave and transept, which gave the interior of the church a welcoming warmth that would fool anyone into thinking this was a safe haven. But the truth was much more revealing.
In the wake of the infection, the cathedral had been conveniently vacated by the Catholic diocese, who were all called back to Rome upon news of the Biblical plague. According to the lone priest who welcomed them in, the bishops had ordered the clergy to stay behind and maintain their posts, but by the end of the second day of outbreaks most of them had lost hope and fled. This was convenient for Campbell, who had lost his own mega-church in the wake of the scourge and decided to move what remained of his congregation into St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
After they had made themselves at home, it wasn’t long until the Reverend Campbell’s evangelical style of fire and brimstone preaching clashed with the Catholic priest’s more traditional beliefs, and this rivalry threatened Campbell's image as a true man of God. As such, the reverend’s wife suggested that they have Hank take the priest outside of town and drop him off, a suggestion that the reverend wholeheartedly agree with. Hank reported that the man of God hadn’t spoken a single word to him, and simply stepped out of the car and stood silently by the side of the road, gripping his Bible as Hank drove off. But to the Campbells, this was the best possible outcome. Now the church was theirs, and they had established a new order.
With the prosody of a man on fire for God, Reverend Campbell spoke in a voice that carried across the rows of parishioners. A voice he had mastered listening to the old fire and brimstone sermons of his father and his grandfather before him. A voice that could strike fear into the listener and in the very same moment inspire hope.
“During the dark days, during the Tribulation, people shall seek death but not find it. And here today, the living dead roam our city streets, and although they most certainly are no longer among the living, death does not come to them! Revelation nine, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters. The very thing we have witnessed beyond these very walls, predicted in His Holy Word!”
Circling about the podium, the reverend paused in front and looked long and hard at his congregation with a gravitas that kept them at the edge of their seats. He raised both hands heavenward, closed his eyes, and spoke. “Lord Jesus, Almighty Savior, vanquish this demonic plague as you did the demon called Legion at Gerasa. I beseech you Lord, cast out these demons and give us a sign!” His voice quieting, Campbell gazed once more upon the entranced faces staring back at him, and then bowed his head.
His voice taking a more somber tone, the reverend said, “Pray with me now. Dear Heavenly Father on High, we beseech you, redeem us from this sinful world. Let the cleansing blood of your Son’s great sacrifice wash down upon us and safeguard us from your wrath that is bound to consume everything that is forsaken. But Lord, as your obedient servants, we implore you, please spare us as you spared Job from ultimate ruin. But if you will not, if we are not pure enough, if our hearts are not true enough, if we are not worthy enough…then all we ask is that you allow us perish with dignity and grace, for your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Amen!”
A chorus of amens went off in waves throughout the entire church. Nearly a hundred onlookers mumbled in tongues together, hands raised toward the rafters, and the reverend basked in their praise—and in the fact that he could so easily bend them to his will.
26
Trespass Lightly
The past week was just one big blur of chaotic events, of screaming, running, more screaming, and trying not to die. Jennifer Hurley had grown tired of the same old routine, and wanted nothing more than to escape this damp dungeon and get some fresh air. She couldn’t tell how many days it had been since the outbreak. Two? Three? Even four maybe? Time seemed to slow down here. All she knew for certain was that they’d had enough supplies to last them a week, and they were beginning to run low.
Still, she couldn’t take being cooped up any longer, and so at first light she snuck upstairs and rummaged around the sportswear section of the large Gold’s Gym above the spa. At the front, near the entrance, was the sign in counter, a juice bar, and a small clothing section. Luckily enough, she found some fitness clothes and exchanged her business attire for something a little more comfortable—hot yoga pants and a matching top to go along with it.
Picking out a blue sports bra with matching running shorts, she ditched the constricting underwear and slipped on the skin-hugging swimwear. On top of it she threw on an off-white yoga gym suit that had an aqua green stripe running down the side. She slipped it on but made sure to only zip it up part way. She wanted her ample cleavage to hang out some, as she felt it would prove to be a good distraction for the boys.
Standing in front of the mirror in the ladies changing room, Hurley wondered where Jared “G.I. Joe” Barnes had stormed off to. After their little romp in the men’s room, he ran out of there and took off. Even the fearless Ulysses Noble had grown worried as to his friend’s whereabouts and had set out early in the morning to look for him. He took the boy-wonder with him too, so now she was all alone. Almost.
“Still there?” she asked hesitantly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
“Where else would I be?” a voice replied.
A huge feeling a relief washed over her at its familiar sound. “I did it,” she informed herself.
“You did what?”
“I looked through their things after they had gone to bed. But I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find the thing you were looking for.”
“Keep looking. We’re running out of time. We need to hurry.”
“I will,” Jennifer
promised.
Jennifer’s reflection smiled back at her, but the smile was jeering. Ominous. Then a terrible clangor arose. It came from the basement and sounded like someone cutting the lock to the back entrance.
“You’d better see to it,” Jen’s doppelganger said.
“Shhh!” she replied, putting her finger to her lips as she tiptoed back down the stairs to the basement. Jennifer looked around for something she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing to be found. But she remembered where she could get one.
Quietly she eased up to the door to the baths and cracked it open a notch. Staring out of the crack, she didn’t see any immediate threat, so she crouched down and made her way to Noble’s green army rucksack. Slipping her hand in, she searched for the blade she had discovered last night when she went through his things. Jennifer unfastened the leather strap on the sheath and gently slid out the Bowie tactical knife. She could see her reflection in the gloss of the blade—the beautiful blonde with crystal blue eyes.
With a murderous intent, her reflection said, “Good girl. Now do exactly as I say.”
A shadow slid along the wall in the room behind her. Although she didn’t see it, she felt something down there with her. Luckily, she had spent some time familiarizing herself with the floor plan of the bathhouse. It was a labyrinth of interconnecting pools. Almost every room connected to the next. They had remodeled a portion of it to look like a Japanese hot spring with bamboo shoots feeding water to the pools. She felt the bamboo motif would provide good cover and headed toward the Japanese section of the baths.
Jennifer Hurley gripped the knife securely with both hands and tiptoed toward the front entrance of the Japanese pools. She peeked inside to check if it was safe. Suddenly there was another clank behind her, and her heart jumped a beat. It sounded awfully close. She quickly ran to the back wall and slid herself into the shadows cast by the bamboo display. Playing cat-and-mouse was a precarious business when you didn’t know who, or what, you were playing it with.