Zombie Uprising Series (Book 4): The Hybrid

by Robbins, M. A.

  "A witch doctor," the redheaded man interjected. "Are we here for a ghost story?"

  "Quiet, Dr. Stanley," Cartwright snapped. The redheaded man sat back in his chair and said nothing.

  Cartwright nodded at Williams.

  "Dr. Burrell obtained a powder from the priest that he claimed had restorative properties. The doctor makes note that he tried to buy the powder but the priest refused, saying it was dangerous in the hands of anyone but a priest." She looked up. "The doctor stole the powder.

  "He also notes that the priest had revealed that the person treated with the powder could be controlled by another person, but the doctor discounted that as legend.

  "They sailed off the coast of Alaska, almost reaching Wainwright by August. A stationary high over Siberia reversed the normal wind pattern and pushed the pack ice toward the Alaskan coast. As we know from other historical accounts, seven of the forty ships escaped. The others were trapped in the crushing ice."

  The door opened and Dr. Morgan rushed in. Taking his seat, he looked around at the others. "My apologies. Don't let me interrupt."

  Williams continued, "The men became sick, and lacking the proper medication, Dr. Burrell made a tincture with the powder, dissolving it in some rum he'd obtained in the Caribbean. He gave it to the men."

  Dr. Morgan leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Here's the good part."

  Williams waited. When nothing more was said, she continued. "The men got better for a time, then grew suddenly worse. The first death happened within forty-eight hours. With no place to bury him, they put the man in the hold. When the second man died hours later, they opened the hold to store him there and the first man was alive and crazed. He attacked his crewmates, ripping the flesh from their bodies and consuming it."

  "Zombies?" Stanley said. "Are you serious? Maybe if you'd gone to a higher-level institution for your studies, you wouldn't be talking about ridiculous things."

  Williams shrank into her seat.

  Morgan clasped his hands and laid them on the table. "She's merely giving you what was written in the reports of the time."

  "Fortunately," Stanley said, "we're far more sophisticated today."

  What an ass.

  "Let her finish." Cartwright nodded at Williams. "Let's wrap it up quickly, shall we?"

  Williams took a deep breath and exhaled. She put the paper down and looked at the others as she spoke. "Dr. Burrell reported them as zombies. His last journal entry revealed that he was the only crew member who hadn't been infected. Other written Navy records reveal that those crew members walked the ice to other ships, infecting their crews. They eventually made their way to the mainland, near a small village called Point Wallace, where they froze in the subzero temperatures."

  "What happened to them?" the rumbling voice asked.

  "The Navy and Army sent men to collect them and bury them nearby beneath the permafrost. And so they remain today."

  Stanley let out a heavy sigh. "I assume the so-called zombies are the hosts."

  "So the plan would be to exhume these zombies?" the rumbling voice asked. "Then what? Bring them here? Isn't that dangerous?"

  "No." Cartwright leaned forward. "Once Dr. Williams discovered this information, we scoured every piece of paper we had and found one more bit of information. It seems the government brought back samples of the zombies and studied them. It wasn't until almost twenty-five years later when science had advanced enough to detect viruses that they used that technology."

  "So it is a virus?" Morgan asked.

  Cartwright nodded. "The samples were destroyed, but the notes indicated it was a mycovirus."

  "It attaches to spores?" Stanley said. "But that only happens with viruses that attack vegetation."

  "Not anymore," Cartwright said.

  "And zombies help us how?" Stanley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  "Our mission," the rumbling voice said, "is to create the ability to control the troops of our enemies. This will end conflicts quicker without unnecessary risk of our own troops."

  "I'm well aware of that," Stanley snapped. "What the hell do zombies have to do with it?"

  Dr. Morgan removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Delivery mechanism." He put his glasses back on. "If we come up with a biological method of controlling the enemy, how do we deliver it?"

  "Through zombies?" Stanley sneered.

  "The perfect delivery method," Cartwright said. "They bite and infect others. The outbreak grows exponentially."

  Stanley pursed his lips but said nothing.

  Cartwright stood. "Further discussion is moot. The president has already approved."

  She opened the door and turned, her gaze burning into Jen's. "Colonel Butler, draw up a plan for delivering spores to the mass grave in Alaska. They should be buried with the bodies for eighteen months, then collected. I expect the plan on my desk by the end of the day."

  "Yes, ma'am," the rumbling voice said.

  23

  Jen opened her eyes as far as she could and was barely able to make out D-Day on his bike. The vibrations on her back told her she was in the sidecar. "D-Day," she moaned.

  He didn't react.

  Can't hear me?

  She tried to move, but only managed to raise a pinky finger. What the hell's happening to me? And what about that dream? Or nightmare. I was in Butler's head, for crying out loud.

  Her body spasmed and she sank back into the shadows.

  Arctic wind whipped past Jen's face as she stood in front of a squad of uniformed men digging. She tried to scan her surroundings, but she was back in the theater chair. Shit. Butler again?

  One of the men shoveled up a chunk of earth, then staggered back covering his mouth and nose. The wind drove the scent up Butler's nose and his breath hitched. And I get to smell what he smells. Freaking great.

  Butler wrapped a scarf to cover his mouth and nose and edged to the opening in the ground. "Get some light on this."

  A soldier aimed his flashlight and lit the scene. Yup. That's the sailors' pit.

  Two bearded sailor faces were exposed. One of the soldiers tapped them with a shovel. "Mostly frozen, but they're thawing."

  "Let's get the damn fungus planted and cover them back up," Butler said. "Morgan? Hurry up."

  Morgan, bundled up so Jen could barely make out his face, trudged into view. He removed a clear tube from inside his coat. It was filled with a brownish powder.

  Butler turned around. That's the direction of the village. Can't see a damn thing in this storm. That's how they did this without the villagers knowing.

  Butler turned back to the bodies as Morgan stood. "Get them covered up before this wind blows all the spores away," Morgan said.

  Three soldiers filled in the opening to the pit.

  Butler brought a radio to his lips. "Svengali One to Svengali Two. Ready for pickup."

  The radio squelched. "Roger. Twenty minutes out."

  Butler yelled at the soldiers. "Move your asses. You've got twenty minutes to make it look like no one's been here."

  "Is she going to live?"

  Zeke's voice.

  Jen cracked her eyes open. Zeke sat next to her, looking behind him. "It's my fault," he said. "Never should have let that thing get so close to her."

  "Screw the blame game," D-Day said. "Shit happens. Get over it."

  Zeke pursed his lips.

  "He's right." Wayne's voice came from in front of Zeke. "We just need to concentrate on getting her back to CDC. They'll know what to do."

  "Zeke," Jen breathed.

  Zeke's gaze dropped to her and his face lit up. "Jen! She's awake."

  D-Day's face hovered over her. "Well, Spitfire. Looks like you cheat death again."

  Jen gave him a weak smile.

  "How are you feeling?" Wayne came into view.

  "Weak. Confused. Can't do shit."

  Zeke patted her arm. "You just relax. We've got this."

  D-Day smiled. "We'll be back in Atlanta
in no time."

  Jen struggled to keep her eyes open, but lost the battle.

  Butler entered the lab.

  Same one O'Connor used.

  Morgan looked up from his desk. "What is it, Colonel?"

  Butler's head turned from side to side. "Don't know. This whole Svengali Program just doesn't make sense to me."

  "How's that?"

  "It's just so off the books," Butler said. "I've been involved in hush-hush projects before, but why the hell does Cartwright report directly to the president? Even the Secretary of Defense is out of the loop."

  Morgan frowned. "Does it matter as long as it works for national defense?"

  A feeling of regret washed over Jen. I'm getting his feelings, too?

  "I used to think that way," Butler said. "Sacrificed a lot of good men for the mission. Was it worth it?"

  Morgan glanced at Butler over his glasses then went back to his work. "Just think if it works."

  "We release the spores over enemy territory," Butler said, "then within twenty-four hours we control them. Sounds too good to be true."

  Morgan didn't look up. "That's the idea."

  Butler scoffed. "Nothing can go wrong with that plan, can it?"

  The train swayed under Jen. She opened her eyes all the way. Must be getting better.

  She lay across a seat with her head on Wayne's lap. He was fast asleep leaning against the window.

  I could stay like this for awhile.

  She peered across the aisle to where D-Day and Zeke sat, both out cold. Zeke leaned against D-Day and had his mouth open. A strand of drool hung off the corner of his lip, then dropped onto D-Day's arm.

  Jen sighed. Were Butler's memories true, or did he just project what he wanted her to experience?

  She eased herself into a sitting position. Wayne snorted and curled against the window.

  Their car was empty. How the hell did they manage that?

  She yawned. "I feel pretty good." She clamped her hand over her mouth. No need to wake the others.

  Watching the countryside roll by the windows, she wondered if anything would ever get back to normal.

  She leaned against the window and fell asleep.

  The door to Butler's office burst open and Stanley strutted in, his fiery hair carefully coiffed and an intense look on his face.

  He shoved a large envelope at Butler. "Hide this."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Stanley pushed it at Butler again. "You don't want to know. Just hide it where no one will find it. Someone searched my office while I was out and I know they were looking for what's in the envelope. You're the only one I can trust. Take it and I'll come back for it later. I'll explain everything then."

  Stanley opened the door and stuck his head out, looking up and down the hallway. Without another word he slipped into the corridor and disappeared.

  Butler opened the envelope and removed several sheets of paper. Jen couldn't read them, her vision having been blurred. Is he keeping me from finding out what's in the envelope?

  Butler returned the papers. "Son of a bitch. Even the president's in on it."

  He rose and approached a six-foot cabinet in the back of the lab. Grunting, he slid it from the wall and slipped behind it.

  His hand came into view and it held a penknife. Butler used it as a makeshift screwdriver to unscrew a vent cover several inches from the floor.

  When he had removed the cover, he rushed to the desk and pulled a roll of duct tape from a drawer. He placed the envelope against the top of the air duct and taped it in place. Within a couple of minutes, he had replaced the vent cover and the cabinet.

  He strode toward the door. "Got to let Morgan know what's going on. I'll need him if I'm going to have a chance to stop this."

  Jen jerked awake as the train slowed. She peered out the window. "Atlanta."

  "Jen." Zeke stood up in the front of the car, his eyes wide and face red.

  Jen raised her hand. "Hey, Zeke."

  Zeke and Wayne hovered over her.

  Better not talk about the memories yet. Not until I figure out what's true or not. She stretched. "Had a good nap. A little tired, but I'll live."

  D-Day stood at the front of the car with his arms crossed and his eyebrows lowered. His eyes pierced hers. The son of a bitch always looks like he can read my mind.

  The train came to a stop at a nearly empty platform. Militia and law enforcement were stationed every fifty feet.

  Zeke handed Jen her sunglasses. "Better cover up."

  She slid them on.

  D-Day strode to the door. "Looks a lot different than the last time we were here."

  Jen rose, grasping the seatback for stability. Wayne put an arm around her. "You can lean on me."

  Jen let go of the seat and allowed him to keep her on her feet. She closed her eyes and his scent filled her nostrils. If this were another time...

  The doors slid open and two militia men jumped on board, sweeping the car. As they worked their way down the aisle, an Atlanta policeman waved at Jen and the others from the platform. "Come on out, please."

  Once on the platform, Jen watched a similar scene play out at each car.

  The policeman, whose name tag had "Silverio" etched on it, looked each of them over. "Where'd you come from and what's your business here?"

  Zeke displayed his badge. "Homeland Security. We're reporting to the CDC."

  Silverio studied the badge for a moment, then nodded at Jen. "What's wrong with her?"

  "Exhausted," she said. "Not bitten. Not infected."

  Silverio motioned for three militia men to join him. He motioned to Jen. "Step forward."

  Zeke opened his mouth, but the militiamen brought up their weapons. Zeke stood down.

  Wayne released her and Jen shuffled to Silverio. She stopped inches away and glared at him. "Hurry the hell up. We've got a shit ton to do. In case you haven't heard, there's a war going on."

  Silverio scowled. "Roll up your sleeves."

  Jen peeled her sleeves back and showed her arms so that the bite scar wasn't visible.

  "Turn them over," Silverio said.

  Jen did, and Silverio's eyebrows rose. Two of the militiamen aimed their rifles at her.

  "What's that?" Silverio asked.

  Jen sighed. "I'm from Alaska. Had a bear encounter a couple of years ago."

  Silverio bent over, examining her arm closely. "Looks like a human bite," he said.

  "It was a black bear," Jen said. "Their bites are close to a human's. If it had been a grizzly, then my arm would be gone."

  I hope he knows nothing about bears and believes the shit I'm shoveling.

  "Guess you're OK."

  A militiaman whispered in his ear. Silverio nodded at Jen. "Just remove your glasses so I can see your eyes and you'll be on your way."

  "I have a condition where bright light triggers migraines," Jen lied.

  Silverio drew his revolver. "It's not very light inside. Show me your eyes now."

  The militiamen raised their weapons.

  Zeke and Wayne moved to either side of her, and the presence of the burly biker towered over all of them. Mouth dry, Jen reached for her glasses. This isn't going to end well.

  24

  Jen paused.

  Screw it.

  She dropped her arms and pushed past Silverio. "I don't have time for this bullshit."

  Silverio grabbed her arm and she spun. "Let go or lose it," she said.

  The policeman loosened his grip, but kept hold of her. "I have a job to do."

  "I'm a Homeland Security agent," Jen said. "I have a bigger job than some local cop, and you're getting in the way of national security."

  She pulled his hand off her. "We're leaving. If you've got a problem with that then shoot us. And when you're done you might as well put a bullet in your own head before someone else does."

  She knocked a militiaman back with her shoulder as she strode from the terminal. Reaching the humid air outside, s
he took a deep breath.

  "That was freaking awesome," Zeke said.

  Wayne caught up with them. "We shouldn't hang around in case those guys grow some balls."

  Unlike their departure from Atlanta, the grounds and streets around the train station were orderly. Passengers waited in cordoned-off lines that snaked through the surrounding streets.

  A black limo pulled up to the curb and Mark stepped out. "Anyone looking for a ride?"

  Jen smiled and gave the big man a hug. "Been keeping busy?"

  Mark's grin threatened to crack his face as he returned her embrace. "Not as busy as you, I hear."

  Zeke and Wayne climbed into the limo. Jen put one foot in, but stopped when her gaze fell on D-Day, who stood several yards away with his arms crossed.

  Jen ducked her head inside the limo. "Give me a second."

  She ran to D-Day. "You're welcome to come with us. I'm sure I can talk Cartwright into giving you a job."

  "No, thanks," D-Day said. "Last time I worked for the government, it didn't work out so great."

  "What are you going to do?"

  He shrugged. "I've got some brothers in Atlanta I can stay with for a while. It'll give me time to figure out my next steps. Maybe I'll head north again."

  Jen nodded. "Thanks for everything." She threw her arms around him and he didn't resist.

  "I'll be around if you need me," D-Day said. "For a couple of weeks, anyway."

  "How will I find you?"

  "I'll be staying in a house just south of Emory University. Get to Clifton Road and take it to Ridgeway Drive. Fourth house on the right."

  Jen nodded. "I'll remember."

  The limo's horn sounded. Jen faced it and put her forefinger in the air. She turned back to D-Day. "Stay out of trouble."

  The big man's face broke into a fierce grin. "Shit. Me and trouble have had a lifelong friendship."

  Jen jogged to the limo and climbed in.

  The limo dropped Jen, Zeke, and Wayne off in front of the CDC Headquarters building. Within a few minutes, they stood before Cartwright.

  She sat behind her desk with her fingers arched, her carefully neutral face composed. "Quite a journey. And the bottom line is we have no serum to work with."