by Jack Wallen
*
We developed the means to extract samples from the experiments early on. Because each beast was confined in such a small space, very little extraneous movement could occur. Extraction was a simple matter of using a specially designed extension for the hypodermic needles, scalpels, and specimen jars. It was tedious work that often ended in failure, but with enough practice we had managed to systematically, and regularly, extract all fluids and tissue samples necessary for our research.
As the overlord of all things medical, I knew the exact schedule of the essential and nonessential personnel in the lab; so thankfully I was fully aware of the perfect moment to begin my covert operation.
In order to get into and out of the lap undetected, I took a hint from any good espionage thriller and looped a segment of video, displaying the empty lab. That loop would be seen on all surveillance monitors. No chances could be taken.
At the exact moment the lab was emptied that loop began and I made my way into the room. Although the process of specimen collection was generally a two-person operation, I could easily handle the task alone.
Beginning with the less-violent subjects, I made my way around the room, every step of the process executed to perfection. In what was most likely record time, I had every jar and vial labeled and packed, ready to be tucked away for future use.
The plan was unfolding exactly as I had hoped. In no time I was out of the lab with the surveillance back to live feed. My timing couldn’t have been more perfect. As soon as the loop stopped, the first wave of interns entered the lab to start a fresh round of examinations, most of which were pointless (I should know… I designed them).
And then a thought occurred. If any one of those assistants were thorough enough, they would run across one of the minor marks I left behind. Getting up-close-and-personal enough to view my work would require entrance to the containment cells. There were only two members of the lab team that could request such an examination: Myself and our lead surgeon, Jeffry Bagen. Dr. Bagen was an older gentleman who was completely OCD about protocol. That compulsion made him a completely trustworthy member of the team, but a real pain in the ass. Nothing could be done without precise documentation and adherence to the recommended and regulated steps.
Those regulations dictated only one incident that was cause enough to allow such an examination – infection. One bite from any beast would prompt Dr. Bagen to insist one lucky assistant suit up and make their way into the containment cell of the offending beast. Thankfully, the chances that would happen were slim at best.
My secret would remain safe.
For the moment.
Chapter 15
Streets of New York City
December, 2015
The Yellow Cab split the Screamer in half. The bottom half of the monster was crushed by the wheels of the car. The torso of the zombie, on the other hand, opened up and sprayed its contents over the windshield. Somehow, the small intestines managed to get wrapped around the fairly useless windshield wipers. As the blades swiped right to left they seemed to do nothing more than smear the red-brown goo over the glass, making it even harder to see. The intestines flapped in the wind like macabre streamers on a child’s bike. The body flailed about on the hood of the car, until finally the lower intestine snapped and the upper half of the Screamer flew off.
With the body out of the way, Sam was able to blast the windshield with the wiper fluid he’d manage to refill and gain enough visibility to drive.
Sellers hand covered her mouth as if to keep the contents of her stomach down. “Okay, that was disgusting,” she spoke through her fingers.
“So that’s your limit? I was wondering when we’d finally get to see Iron Gut Sellers’s choking point,” Dirt Bag laughed. “Today is a good day.”
“This plan?” Dom asked, a little queasy himself.
“I know of a back entrance to the building. I’d bet the security will be weakest there.” Sam made an attempt to reassure the group.
“Wouldn’t the security be tightest at their weakest point?” Ronald challenged.
“You would think. But the entrance I’m talking about isn’t all that obvious to the naked eye. You really have to know what you’re looking for,” Sam said.
Dirt Bag was clearly shocked no one had bothered to state the obvious. “We’re talking about the U-fucking-N here. There are no weak links in that level of security.”
Sam spent the next few turns and zombie hit and runs explaining how the ZDC didn’t enjoy the same security as had the United Nations Not only did they not have the personnel, they also didn’t have the U.S. Military at their disposal. In its current incarnation, any perceived weakness to the security of the U.N. Building was actually quite real.
There was a brief, and somewhat awkward, pause in the conversation as Sam turned a corner only to nearly run into the heart of another zombie mob. The car was quickly jerked into reverse and driven out of harm’s way.
It was Sellers who finally broke the silence. “So, Sam … what kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve?”
Sam looked to his feisty cohort and displayed a wicked grin. “Why Courtney, whatever do you mean?”
Sellers smacked the driver in the back of the head. “You son of a bitch, you know exactly what I mean!”
“Yeah Sam, you always have a trick or two in the old arsenal,” Dirt Bag chimed in.
As the car was about to speed through a four-way intersection another car came at them at top speed. Sam’s foot hit the brakes so hard the car spun one-hundred-eighty degrees and nearly tipped over. The mysterious car sped through the intersection, leaving Sam and company in a cloud of dust and floating debris.
“What the hell, Sam?” Ronald screamed.
“Another car! Another fucking car, with living and breathing mother fucking drivers! Did you get a look at them?” Dom yelled, almost in a panic.
“Sam… I know what you’re thinking. Leave it be,” Sellers threatened.
“Sorry, Courtney, I have to.”
Sam spun the car around and had it speeding off after the new player in the game of life and death. From the back seat Dom begged to know what was going on. No one dared answer. Dom repeated his question emphatically. Before Sam could open his mouth to speak a Screamer leaped onto the car and began the expected ritual of beating at the windshield. With each crunching impact, the glass threatened to crack. Without so much as a blink of an eye, Sam pulled out a pistol, reached his arm out of the window, and planted a bullet into the brain pan of the undead stowaway. The zombie instantly went limp and was thrown from the hood of the car.
With the view mostly clear, Sam was able to focus on his driving. Said renewed focus allowed Sam to slam down the gas pedal and speed forward.
It didn’t take long before the taxi caught up with the strangers’ car. Something didn’t seem right… almost as if the car intended Sam and company to catch up.
Sam pointed straight ahead at the car. “See those plates? Those are government issue. Whoever is in that car either stole it or… “
Sam went silent.
“Or what?” Dom prodded.
“Our dear friend Sam is a dyed-in-the-wool conspiracy theorist. Anytime he sees a government car he goes chasing like a hound dog on a hunt.” Sellers’s voice gave way to a slight embarrassment.
Sam juiced the car a little further, maxing out the car’s throttle. The taxi was inching closer and closer to the black sedan. “It’s not like that this time!”
The sedan found another gear and sped up, widening the distance between them. Again Sam goosed the engine to see if he could get a few more horses out of the stable. When it was clear the taxi wasn’t going to catch the government-issue sedan, Sam reached his pistol out the window, aimed, and pulled the trigger. No one knew what he was aiming for, but after the fourth shot the left rear tire blew out. Obviously the car wasn’t quite as government standard-issue as Sam thought.
The sedan swerved left and slammed into a fire hydrant
hard enough to lodge the metal plug under the rear bumper and frame of the car. No matter how much gas the driver gave the car, the wheels just spun and smoked.
“I thought shit like that only happened in the movies!” Dom cried out.
Sam pulled the taxi around to block the mystery-mobile from pulling forward. Without their leader barking a single order, the soldiers all stepped out of the car, each aiming a weapon toward the sedan.
Eventually Sam stepped out, training his overly large handgun on the glass of the driver’s door.
Out of the car!” Sam barked.
Nothing happened.
“I said, out of the car!”
Again, nothing.
Sam smiled. He knew the lack of response was nothing more than a challenge. Sam loved a challenge. “Good. We do this the fun way. I count to three. If those doors aren’t opening and I don’t see unarmed hands raised, me and my boys Swiss Cheese this tin can.”
“One!”
Nothing.
“Two!”
No movement.
Just before Sam could take a breath for the third count, the sound of car doors unlocking tickled the air. One by one the doors opened and the ever clichéd ‘men in black’ stepped out of the vehicle.
Every gun locked onto a target.
The driver of the sedan spoke slowly, calmly. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Sam.”
“Fuck. He was right. It was a conspiracy,” Sellers exclaimed.
“It’s always a conspiracy,” Ronald chimed him.
Sam stepped forward and placed the barrel of his weapon on the forehead of the driver. “How do you know my name?”
The driver didn’t flinch. “We know everything, Sam.”
Anger was slowly bubbling up in Sam’s throat. “What have they done with Bethany?”
Sam’s question was met with silence.
The metal of the gun pressed harder into the forehead of the stranger. This time he flinched. From Sam’s perspective, he had the stranger exactly where he needed him – scared.
“We don’t have time to fuck around. Either you answer my questions or we start shooting. Your choice.”
Before an answer could be given, the sound of rage was heard. The noise was distant, but drawing closer.
“We don’t have much time. Either you tell us everything we want to know or we’ll all die here. What’s it going to be?” Sam pressed again.
A thunderous roar bounced off the nearby buildings and echoed into silence. “Get back in the taxi and follow us. We have information you need.” The stranger paused. “And we are in need of a favor.”
The driver pointed to two of the larger men in black and gestured them toward the rear of the car. The driver got back into the sedan, and with the help of his ‘muscle,’ rocked the car free from the hydrant. The goons got back in and the car slowly started pulling away.
Sam looked at his soldiers and nodded. No commands were necessary. Everyone slid back into their seats, closed their doors, and the taxi chased after the wounded car. The driving was slow, thanks to the ruined rear tire. Once everyone concluded they weren’t being led into a death trap, the silence was broken.
“Before anyone asks, I have no idea who those men are. I’ve never seen them and I have no clue as to how they knew my name,” Sam offered up the only facts he had.
“They look FBI, if you ask me,” Dirt Bag spat.
Sellers swung a punch into Dirt Bag’s arm. “DB, any man in a suit looks FBI to you.”
Ronald spoke up as one of the only voices of reason in the car. “Sam, do you think those guys are goons for The Collective?”
Dom had finally had enough living in ignorance about The Collective and voiced his frustration. Sam explained everything about the ZDC he knew which was, not surprisingly, quite a lot. The information Sam imparted unto Dom made it clear how deeply embedded they now were with the situation.
If there was any doubt left in anyone’s mind, that doubt washed away with full disclosure. “I now felt as much a part of this epic battle between evil, not-so-evil, and somewhat good,” exclaimed Dom. “The whole mess has my head spinning. I have a feeling the only remaining good left in the world was tied up somewhere in the UN building.”
The gang sat in silence as the taxi followed the hobbled sedan. When random zombies would attack either car it seemed both vehicles instantly turned insect-like with arms reaching out from every window to blast away the enemy. The undead didn’t have a chance in this chase. The aim was too good, the bullets too plentiful.
Finally both cars pulled up to an abandoned warehouse – the garage-type door standing wide open, beckoning the drivers into what safe haven may lay waiting.
“This shit’s gettin’ real,” Dom whispered to himself.
Chapter 16
Location unknown
November, 2014
“Can you see me clearly, Danielle?”
“Perfectly, Lindsay.”
The video conference was set up for encryption so that the two scientists could enjoy a level of privacy no longer afforded the common citizen. Their work, after all, was crucial for the next stage of human evolution.
“How is the sequence?” Dr. Godwin smiled.
Danielle paused, if only briefly, for brilliant effect. “The sequence completed. The second stage is done!” The professor beamed like a parent bragging about a child’s first step.
Lindsay returned the pride. “Fantastic. It should be near testing phase soon.”
There was another pause, this time filled with nervous suspense. Danielle broke the silence with the all-too-obvious next question. “And what about your work, Lindsay?”
Dr. Godwin hesitated, as if trying to let Danielle in on some secret he was afraid to reveal. This display surprised Professor Michaels. She knew the Quantum Fusion Generator was near completion and would soon enter the first of many testing phases.
Dr. Godwin looked away from the camera and spoke with what could only be shame. “The Generator will work and serve the purpose for which it was designed.”
Danielle knew Lindsay to the core. She knew how torn he was about the Generator, how the device could theoretically save the world, if used properly. Used improperly, the device could have quite an adverse effect. That was what Lindsay most feared. The Zero Day Collective had hired Lindsay for one very singular purpose, but they didn’t reveal that purpose until the doctor was deeply entrenched in the project.
That moment had passed.
“Danielle, they finally informed me of the goals they expected from the Generator.” Shame replaced fear in Lindsay’s voice, and Danielle heard it.
“What is it, Lindsay?”
“I can only tell you this – we need to get you inside of The Collective. I fear something tragic might possibly happen and… “ Doctor Godwin fell silent.
“And what, Lindsay?” The Professor urged.
Dr. Godwin’s eyes bore deeply into the camera, his voice a mere whisper. “If we can get you inside the ZDC the human race might stand a chance.”
The depth of the statement placed a temporary halt on all conversation and thought. Danielle knew Lindsay would not make such proclamations without having reason and fact to back them up. Speculation was not a familiar bedfellow to a man bound in absolute faith to fact.
“How do I – ” Danielle broke the silence, but was quickly interrupted.
“I have already given your name to a man on the Board of Directors. He will be contacting you to interview you for a position. You must accept this contract, no matter how loathsome their goals seem. Take the job with the understanding you will be doing everything you can to undermine their efforts,” Lindsay whispered quickly.
Danielle nodded. She knew she would follow Lindsay’s lead to the end of the world, so if the man asked her to dance with the Devil, she would polish up her tango and prepare for the worst.
The image of Dr. Godwin faded from the screen, but not from Danielle’s mind. Lindsay’s brilliant eyes and wa
rm smile were permanently etched in the window to her soul.
Chapter 17
New York City, United Nations Building
December, 2015
“Get the fuck away from me with that needle, bitch, or, so help me God, I will chew through your neck until I have your jugular between my teeth,” Bethany spat angry words in my face.
This was the moment I felt a deeper truth was warranted. But if I were to allow that truth a voice, the chances of my work surviving were nil. So, I went about my duties in silence. How much longer I could keep that silence up, I had no idea.
In the hypodermic I held the first of the infected serum from the oldest surviving specimen in my collection. Although the physical defects were not nearly as severe as some of the later attempts, the mental capacity of this creature was about as baseline as a functioning being could be without diving into a vegetative state.
I held the syringe aloft, the metal gleaming in the bright surgical light, and tapped any remaining air to the top. When Bethany saw the needle about to plunge into her arm, she unleashed her rage.
“So help me, when I get out of this I am going to make sure you suffer.” Her body thrashed about as she screamed.
With her body flailing about on the bed, it was impossible to administer the injection. I had no choice but to further restrain the girl.
“Please don’t do this to me,” Bethany cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “If you only knew what I’ve sacrificed. Please, I beg you, let me live.”
When I looked down at the patient she caught a glimpse of compassion that fought my resolve and made it to the surface. No matter how hard I tried to push it back down, it forced its way up.
“What? Tell me… please! You know something. Oh God, lady, please.” Bethany was nearing hysterics.
“You will be fine Bethany. I won’t allow anything to happen to you. That is all I can say.”
My comforting tone soothed the girl enough so that I could complete the injection. We were nearly nose to nose and she stared deep into my eyes, deeper than anyone had ever dared.