Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters

by Joseph K. Richard

  “So, Dick, now that I am kind of a captive audience, would you mind telling me where we’re going?”

  “Not at all, Andrew. Have you ever heard of Area 51?” he asked with a smirk.

  Andrew laughed, “No, seriously, where are we going?”

  Dick wasn’t smiling any longer, “I am serious, Andrew, I am always serious. We are going to Area 51. And let me tell you, Doc, when we get there, you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Andrew looked around the tiny cabin of the plane as if searching for an escape route, but there was nowhere to go. His stomach lurched as he realized Dick was probably crazy and he was royally screwed. No one knew where he was. His mother was going to go crazy when he didn’t call in the morning. He smiled at Dick with what he hoped was a congenial grin and reached for his glass. He decided that drink looked pretty good after all.

  Chapter 4: The ‘B’ Team

  The Present

  They found themselves, after the most bizarre abduction scenario one could ever imagine, in a cold, cramped room. The room was located in the employee lounge of what was formerly known as Chelsea’s Bar & Bowling Alley located off Marshall Street in a quaint neighborhood of Northeast, Minneapolis. The mahogany lanes, still waxed to a shine after so many long months, had been closed for business since the zombie apocalypse had forever disrupted commerce.

  At first the individuals in the small group were too scared to speak, too terrified to move at all really. The sat calmly on cold folding chairs trying to sort through the madness in the privacy of their own minds. But children adjust, they always do. It wasn’t long before the two youngest were up and fidgety, barking questions at the adults in the room who were doing their level best to ignore them. Even their own father would only stare blankly into their demanding inquisitive faces as they peppered him with questions.

  “Why are we here?” asked Jacob.

  “Did George do this? Will he be here?” asked Sam.

  “Do you think they will eat us?”

  “Why do they smell so bad?”

  “Do zombies fart?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  On and on they went until the lone woman in the room had enough. “Can you get your brats to shut the fuck up?” she snapped at Mark from her chair.

  Unfortunately, this caused their undead host to snap to attention and walk the short five steps from across the room to stand in front of Tessa. She looked up at the monstrosity, who was dressed only in shredded rags, with terror in her eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sir, I’m just-I’m just exhausted,” she said in a timid, pleading voice.

  The zombie bent at the waist until his gruesome visage was only inches from Tessa’s face. It didn’t speak but shook its head slowly from side to side. Tessa smiled weakly at it as if to say she got the message but screamed as the monster snapped its teeth at her. She fell from her chair in a crying heap. The zombie looked down at her for a moment as if trying to decide if she was truly sorry before turning on its heels and reclaiming its post by the front door.

  Steven eyeballed it all the way back before feeling confident enough to kneel by Tessa’s side and attempt to comfort her. Eventually she was composed enough to retake her seat. Sam and Jacob had found a spot to nestle by their father’s feet and once again the room was silent.

  …

  I had a massive headache, a migraine really. I wasn’t sure though, I never suffered from them before but it damn well hurt like hell. I was alone in the cold kitchen of the old bowling alley. The room was filled with shadows, dust and gloom and it matched my mood. The snow-damp rag I was using to cool my head was no longer cold. The heat from my burning skin had turned it into a dirty version of one of those after dinner wipes given out at fancy restaurants. I took a guess that I was feverish from too many mind-jumping activities in a relatively short amount of time.

  Too much too soon, my dad would have told me. But even if he had been there to give me advice, I wouldn’t have listened. I had a mysterious city to breach, a pregnant girlfriend to save and a father to track down. That last fact was another reason why it would have been super awkward if he was there.

  I was waiting for my last two guests to arrive before going in to address my assembled team. They wouldn’t have been my first choice but they were all I had at the moment so I had to use them. Myself, a nervous father, his two young sons, Crazy Tessa, her boyfriend Steven, two seemingly reasonable soldiers I’d saved from death, a handful of other hard cases I didn’t know and a butt-load of zombies. The B team.

  The last several days had been a brutal education for me on the almost limitless control I had over the undead thanks to whatever weirdness currently floated through my body courtesy of my father. I assumed it was a virus of some sort. A virus never seen before on Planet Earth. It obviously had some technical properties more often seen in things like computers rather than the human body. It turned all those infected with it into soulless man-killing machines. All those except for me that is. I was given some kind of master control dose that allowed me to do remarkable things I shouldn’t have be able to do while retaining my soul, which was a happy benefit.

  I could see through their dead eyes, control them individually or in groups, command them and order them around like a million chess pieces. I could access their life memories, even learn from their former trades and professions which I found extremely useful. When I wanted I could watch their old lives like the realest kind of 3D movie I had ever seen. I even spoke through a few them on occasion. Most pleasingly, they did not attack me and I had no desire to eat people. I still felt like me but with benefits, which was nice.

  I had been pushing myself hard over the last week. Seeing what I could do in my attempt to track down those few outside the city with whom I’d shared some recent life experiences, some good and some bad but I needed them all. Most of my makeshift squad was already waiting for me in the other room but I only wanted to make one entrance and one speech so I waited.

  I had stepped out into the rear parking lot to get more snow for my cold compress when Lanskey and Wilson finally arrived with their escort of the undead driving minivan. I sensed they were both still unconscious which was fine, I just hoped they weren’t crazy when they woke up. Surviving the zombie apocalypse was challenging enough, seeing zombies do things outside of their known behaviors was too much for some folks.

  Stepping back inside I took a few minutes to compose myself and wash my face with my newly cold rag, giving my zombie retrieval team time to bring the men inside with the others. Finally, I felt ready or as ready as I was going to get with the Friendly High School glee club hosting a jamboree inside my skull. Leaving the kitchen through the service door I crossed the tiny hallway until I stood outside the room where my colleagues waited. I exhaled, thought about the last time I had brushed my teeth and stepped through the door.

  At first they didn’t notice me. They were all huddled around the two trembling men laying on the dusty woven rug that dominated the center of the small room. I instructed the zombie guards to exit quietly behind me. As they complied, I watched the human survivors in silence and pondered the sheer stupidity of my half-assed plan. If I was a good person I would send them all packing with enough supplies to survive the winter but instead I was going to strong arm them into helping me fight a battle we were most likely going to lose.

  Sam was poking at Lanskey, perhaps trying to determine if he was human or zombie. Mark had Jacob corralled under one arm while ineffectually trying to stop Sam. Tessa and Steven were huddled together near Wilson as if debating whether they should rifle through his pockets. Before they could, the man lurched up on his arms with a loud yelp as though he were doing a painful push up. Bonnie and Clyde fell back in alarm.

  “What the fuck is this? Who are you people?” the man stammered as he spun around on his ass to face them both. Wilson shifted his attention from them over to me. “Who are you?” he demanded, his tone strong and commanding in spite of the circumstances. I knew I
would like him when I met him in person.

  This authoritative question had the dramatic effect of having the entire room notice me at the same time. I couldn’t have planned a better introduction.

  “George!” screamed Jacob. His was a shout of joy. He would have run to me but his dad held him back.

  “You!” screamed Tessa. Hers was a cry of outrage. Then she made a mad dash for me only to have Steven scoop her up after two rage-filled strides. He was a strong man and truthfully most of the fight had left Tessa since her group had been kidnapped by zombies. Her struggle in Steven’s arms was only half-hearted, perhaps conducted only for the sake of principle. After a moment she went still as she stared vacantly at me waiting for my explanation.

  “I am the reason you are, both here and still here, as it were,” I said, addressing Wilson but talking to everyone at once. “Here, meaning in this room but still here meaning not dead or even worse, undead.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Why did they bring us here? Are we prisoners? Are they going to eat us? How didyou get here?” These questions were firing out of Wilson’s mouth like a semiautomatic weapon.

  “The zombies brought you here under my instruction. You will all note you were not harmed during transport or for the brief period of your incarceration.

  Aside from the boys, who probably didn’t know any better, they were all staring at me like I was some type of villain and I guess I was talking like one. What normal person calmly says incarceration during regular conversation? This wasn’t going well and I was feeling embarrassed and annoyed. “Mark, didn’t you explain any of this?” I snapped.

  “No, sorry, George,” he replied softly.

  “Why not?”

  “It just never came up. These two just got here. Tessa is a real twat and I don’t trust any of the men she is with. You’ll recall she was holding us hostage waiting for you to come back. There were some advances made toward the boys with a rather sharp looking knife she had. It was all I could do not to kill her when I had a chance.”

  “I see. Well that seems reasonable,” I said.

  Wilson and Lanskey looked mighty confused as the rest of the adults in the room erupted into a chaos of confused shouting and curses. Most of it was directed at me. I ignored them all and pushed my way through the crowd until I reached the old metal desk that had been left by the former proprietors. I perched on its edge and studied the floor until the chatter mostly subsided. My face was bathed in shadows as I peered at them through half closed eyes. If I’d had any cigarettes, I would have lit one.

  “For those of you who do not know me, my name is George McCloud. And I, for all intents and purposes, am the one and only king of the zombies. I spared your lives and brought you here to help me complete a special and highly dangerous mission.”

  I let that sink in during a long moment of silence until Wilson made a throat clearing noise, stepped forward and pointed one shaking finger towards the general vicinity of my chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked just above a whisper.

  Someone farted and Jacob giggled but other than that the room was silent as this group of strangers tried to process what I had just said. Again I should reiterate here that I was tired and tend towards melodrama in times of stress or exhaustion.

  “I will answer your question, Mr. Wilson, but first a bit of feedback for you. We’ve only just met but it seems you have a high proclivity towards saying fuck. That needs to stop, as you can see there are children present.”

  Wilson looked sheepishly at Sam, Jacob and then Mark as if he only just noticed them. Perhaps he did, he had, after all, only been in the room for a few moments before I entered and started the party. He seemed to come to himself and shot me a glare. “How the fu-, how the hell do you know my name?” he demanded.

  “Let me explain that. You all may want to sit down. After I am done, you will each have the opportunity to leave if you want. I won’t force you to help me. But once you leave here I won’t be able to protect you. You will truly be on your own.”

  They shouted more questions but once it became clear this was going to be more of a statement and less of a press conference, the room gradually became silent again and one by one they took places on the floor around me.

  I pulled out a copy of the wanted poster from pocket and held it up for everyone to see. It was story time. “So, one night last May, I took a trip to visit my father in the big city. I lived in New Brightown, you see, and….”

  Chapter 5: A Bill of Goods

  The Past

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Muddy screamed, wearing size 10 treads into the office carpeting.

  “Just calm down, Muddy, I don’t want your assistant interrupting us. I think I’ve been pretty clear on what happens should someone uncover the exact nature of our association.”

  Muddy shuddered as he pictured Harrie in the clutches of Dick’s henchmen or even worse, Dick himself. Maybe he could ask Harrie to run away with him. They could start a new life together in one of those tiny tropical islands. But he knew that would never work. Dick would find him or Dick’s people would find him.

  He abhorred the days Dick came around to remind him of his invisible benefactors who were perfectly happy to frame him for murder as well as publicly humiliate him if he took one wrong step.

  Dick continued in his usual irritatingly calm voice, destroying Muddy’s mental vacation, “I told you before, your part in this is all window dressing. This bill is going to happen. All you need to do is be the mouthpiece.”

  “Listen,” Muddy said, “I know you’ve got some all-powerful group backing you bu-”

  “You mean us.” Dick interrupted.

  “What?”

  “You misspoke and I am correcting you. We have an all-powerful group backing us, meaning we are in this together.”

  “Fine, us then. My point remains the same. What you are suggesting I write into this safety bill is-“

  “Safety First. That’s its name. You need to say it properly, Muddy, it’s very important.”

  Muddy sighed, “Safety First. What you are suggesting I write into this Safety First bill is going to be laughed out of the building before it gets to its first subcommittee.”

  “Three things,” Dick said. “Number 1, thank you for saying it correctly, that means a lot to me and shows you can be a good listener when you want to be. Number 2, I am not suggesting you write anything, I am giving you word for word verbiage on what is expected to be written into the bill. Number 3, you just need to do your thing, blow the domestic terrorism horn over and over again. Keep preaching public safety concerns and watch.”

  “What am I supposed to be watching?” asked Muddy.

  “Watch this bill fly through the senate and the house straight to the President’s desk like an Olympic speed skater.”

  …

  To Muddy’s utter astonishment Dick’s prediction came true. The controversial bill did fly through both the senate and the house. The day the President signed it into law meant a photo shoot for him in the Oval Office. A place he had already been on a number of occasions but now it felt different. Now it felt like it could be home if he kept doing his part. He kept asking himself if it was worth it.

  Thankfully, Dick wasn’t there for the signing; just Muddy, the other legislative leaders and a few key members of the cabinet and, of course, the POTUS herself. After the press left, the President dismissed everyone but Muddy.

  “I thought we should have a chat,” she told him as they sipped bourbon and stared at the large throng of protesters assembled in front of the White House. They were adamantly protesting the signing of the Safety First Bill.

  “Blind idiots raging at the sea,” she said morosely.

  Muddy was surprised at her comment. He had never known her to let her guard down in front of another politician and show her true self as it pertained to such things. He had known her professionally for years. They had been political enemies for the most part.
But as is custom in Washington they had also been the occasional bedfellows, working together to get this or that bit of legislation over a hurdle. “You don’t put much stock in political activism, Madam President?”

  “I don’t put much stock in wasted time, Mr. Senator,” she replied, regarding him with an intense look as she nursed her drink. Muddy gave her a nervous smile as he waited for her to get to the point of this little talk. Her hawk-like features gave her a serious presence that made him unusually jumpy.

  “I don’t know what they have on you but I know you are in their pocket,” she said. Reading the alarmed look on his face she gave him a rare smile and squeezed his arm. “Relax, Muddy, and don’t bother with denials, I only know about you because they have me as well. I’m just in a different pocket,” she said bitterly as she turned back to the window.

  “Who are they?” asked Muddy.

  “I assume you’ve met Dick, who is, well, kind of a real dick,” she said and Muddy nodded. “Beyond him I’ve been able to find out very little aside from that they are a very powerful group with their fingers in every imaginable network of power. They are extremely dangerous and they go back a long time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means who they are and what they want goes back a long time, most likely centuries if I‘m right.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about? You sound like one of those internet wackos. Excuse my language please.”

  “Oh fuck you and your language, Muddy,” she mocked. “I’ve already said too much. It’s not above them to take drastic measures to remain in the shadows and that includes taking out a sitting president. After I hand over the keys to you, I intend to stay silent and live a very private life.”

  “You’re talking crazy, Heidi, as far as handing over the keys to me, I appreciate your optimism but I haven’t even declared for the primary yet.”