The Apocalypse Chronicles (Book 2): New World [Undead]

by DeLeon, Jon

  There was only one thing left. Kira had decided to add something special to her list of supplies.

  One of the vendors she had bought some crayons from earlier had mentioned that for a price, people could buy special treats. Kira had her mind on a bottle of champagne. She wanted to break it out as a surprise when Joe found Kurt, if he found Kurt. Her heart sank a little bit. She took a deep breath. If Joe believed, so could she. Kira was scared for Joe, scared for how it would crush him if they didn’t find Kurt. She hoped not to see that disappointment.

  After asking a few shop owners and paying full price for a few unnecessary items, Kira found out about the black market that was taking place downstairs. Under the court’s floor was a basement storage room that was now a place for selling things that were rare and less moral. Alcohol of all kinds had become rare in New Miami, so now the only way to get it was by risking a visit downstairs.

  Kira rounded a corner in the stairs. A man was leaned against the wall, smoking a joint. The smell of weed smoke was acrid and climbed up her nostrils. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “Hey, baby, you fine. Want to have a little fun?”

  Kira just kept walking. She had been catcalled by drunk and high men on a near-nightly basis when she first moved to Miami Beach. She could deal with a little inappropriate behavior. As she walked away, leaving the man in the background, he trailed off, “You don’t know what you’re missing, girl. Heh, heh, heh.”

  Kira walked down the dark hallway until she entered the warehouse room. It was a mirror of the market upstairs, a perfect mirror. The layout looked the same, but the atmosphere was the polar opposite. Vendors here were quiet. Money changed hands secretly, and goods were passed in nondescript packages. Other booths backed to side rooms. Men and women would pay the doorman and disappear through the door. Judging from the smell emanating from those rooms, it wasn’t a nightclub.

  Kira read the doors as she walked by. The first read, “Fight a zombie, make money!” The next read, “OPIUM ROOM.” No subtlety here, I guess, Kira thought. She continued to walk around until she found a booth with a bottle of champagne drawn on a chalkboard board. The old man stood up on a crutch.

  “Hello,” Kira greeted him.

  “What you want?”

  The man was less than hospitable.

  “Champagne.”

  “Why you think I have that? Who told you I have that?”

  The man took a very confrontational posture, leaning forward toward Kira.

  Kira took a step back but didn’t back down. She pointed at the sign.

  “Oh, right.” The man leaned back. “You got the coin?”

  “How much?”

  “Ten grams gold.”

  “I have seven grams silver.”

  “Then no champagne for you.”

  Kira had done this a hundred times today. She turned to walk away. The man spoke up. “Wait. Since you’re so pretty, I’ll give you a bottle for fourteen silver.”

  “Ten grams silver,” Kira replied.

  “Twelve grams, and I no tell boss about pretty face.”

  There was something threatening in his voice.

  Kira grabbed a scarf from his table. She wrapped it around her head and face, and handed the man twelve grams. “For the bottle and the scarf.”

  The old man smiled and reached under his table. He pulled out a box. She opened the top and looked inside. The bottle was there. She closed the box and turned to leave. The old man grabbed her arm. She pulled away.

  “Wait,” he said. “You hear?”

  Kira listened. From the direction of the stairs came a thumping sound. A hush was enveloping the room. It was growing even quieter somehow. Then through the piercing silence, a boisterous laugh echoed.

  “I like you. You remind me of niece. Boss coming. You must hide.”

  “Why?”

  “He like pretty girls. Come.”

  The man handed Kira his crutch. The man then walked to the other side of the stall and directed Kira to where he had been standing behind the booth. It took her a second to get over the fact that the crippled nature of this man was fake.

  “Now you one of us. We broken.”

  Then she realized what he was doing. She must become a crippled shop owner to keep the boss away. She settled into her role. A few seconds later, a large man rounded the corner of the rows.

  Kira looked at him in disgust. He had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. A thick sweat dripped from his skin. Drool dripped from his mouth. Each step pounded into the ground, sending shockwaves through his doughy form. He was laughing and drinking straight from a bottle of tequila. He missed part of his mouth with his sip, spilling down his shirtless body. This man was only wearing a massive pair of basketball shorts. He grabbed a handful of something from a nearby stall, ate it in one open-mouthed bite. What Kira saw next stole her breath and heartbeat.

  Behind the man, being pulled by a chain leash and wearing leather handcuffs around her wrists, was a young girl about Kira’s age. She was crying. Trails of dirt and mud ran down her face. She looked at the ground. The man laughed as he continued down the aisle. He continued to eat and drink all he wanted from the vendors as he passed. The girl tied behind him scuffled along, being yanked from time to time.

  After the man and the girl were out of earshot, Kira leaned forward and asked the vendor, “Who the hell was that?”

  The man looked surprised and confused at the question. “That boss. You new to here?”

  “I gathered that was the boss. Who was the girl?”

  “Boss has big hunger.”

  “I saw that, but what about the girl?

  “He have big hunger.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Him hunger not limited to food and drink.”

  Kira felt sick.

  “Him leader of big gang. So we let him eat and drink what he want.”

  “And you just let him take girls? What happens to them?”

  “If we try and stop the boss, him gang come and kill us.”

  “What happens to the girls?

  “Oh, well once him had him fill, he give them mercy.”

  “Mercy?”

  “Them was his girls, no others can touch again.”

  “What does mercy mean?”

  “He kill.

  Kira gasped. “What?”

  “You leave. You too good for here. Here meanest and cruelest are king. Other vendors will tell boss men about your pretty face. They come for you next. Leave now.”

  The man half-pushed Kira from behind the stall and down the aisle. She walked down the row, pulling her head wrap a little tighter, glancing from side to side. Every second felt like excruciating pain. She rounded the corner and saw her freedom. The stairs were in sight, but something held Kira back.

  Kira stopped in her tracks. She couldn’t leave yet. There was something she needed to do. She turned and headed back into the black market, a purpose set in her mind.

  New Miami Mayor’s Office:

  Outbreak Day +69

  A few blocks down from the shopping center, Raul led Joe into the main level of a high-rise. Bodyguards stepped forward, relieving Joe and Raul of weapons. Raul and Joe walked to the elevator. They stepped inside. Raul reached and pressed the penthouse button. The elevator hummed as it climbed the seventy stories to the top. The elevator dinged as the doors opened.

  Joe stepped out on marble floors. Sun shined through floor-to-ceiling windows and reflected off crystal chandeliers and golden lamps. A fine Persian rug lay across the floor, and Victorian couches surrounded a glass coffee table. It was a scene from MTV Cribs.

  “Welcome.” A man in his fifties wearing a tailored suit approached from down the hall. His fine shoes clicked with each step. He walked with an ease and a confidence about him. Power and respect seemed to ooze from his tanned skin. “Welcome to my home. I hope your journey here hasn’t been too bad.”

  “You could say it has.”

  The m
ayor put his hands in his pockets, and he struck a very serious tone. “I suppose everyone has had a rough couple of months. Did you have trouble in the city?”

  “No, Mister Mayor, I made sure he was welcomed like you asked,” Raul answered for Joe.

  “I asked him, Raul.”

  Raul lowered his head slightly and took a half-step back.

  “I have been treated fine here,” Joe answered.

  “Good. Raul.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, you won’t be needed here anymore. Why don’t you take a bottle from my collection and go home.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Raul turned and left, stopping only to grab a bottle of whiskey from a box by the elevator. The doors chimed open and shut as he left.

  “You’re name is Joe, right?

  “Yes.” Joe looked closer at the man’s face. “Do I know you?”

  “We’ve met a couple of times. Follow me.” The mayor led Joe to a large office.

  The mayor directed Joe to a chair in front of the desk as he took a seat in a large, padded chair himself. He pulled out a picture from the desk drawer and handed it to Joe.

  Joe looked at it with shock. The picture was of Joe, the mayor and Stephen Wilkinson. Stephen was a member of Joe’s first combat unit. Stephen had been a little eighteen-year-old kid who didn’t know what he had signed up for. Joe had watched out for him. Stephen was another young soldier who had reminded Joe of Kurt. It was after their first rotation that Joe had moved to Special Forces. He had never heard from Stephen again. The picture was from when Stephen’s parents, Collin and Margerie, had come and visited him. They had been posted at a base, waiting for their next orders. Joe smiled and shook his head. “Mr. Wilkinson, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. As you can imagine, it’s been a hard time.”

  “Please call me Collin.”

  “I didn’t know you guys lived down here.”

  “We moved down here last year. We wanted to be closer to Stephen.”

  “Is he still here?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He . . .” Collin took a deep breath, building up his strength. “He didn’t make it. He and his mother were infected right away.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. In a way, I’m glad. I’m glad they didn’t see what has become of this place.” Collin stood up and looked out the window. “You know, it was you who made Stephen move down here.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. He said you told him such great stories about Miami and the beach that he had to come see for himself. I tell you what, I’ve never seen him so happy. He loved it here. I shudder to think what he would feel about it now.”

  The mayor was looking out over the city of Miami. From this vantage point, he could see all of what used to be downtown. Skyscrapers stood tall, and glass glinted the sun. It was all a façade, a facelift of death. “Come look at this.”

  Joe stood and joined Collin at the window.

  “See that ring of downed buildings?

  “Yeah. I noticed that earlier.”

  “That was my idea. In my youth, I was a volunteer firefighter. So many times, it seemed like a blaze was unstoppable. All we could do was retreat and burn down a line through the forest. The only risk then was embers flying in the wind. Here, there were no embers to catch flight. It allowed those of us left to fight controlled numbers. We survived.”

  “That’s all we can do now.”

  “No, it’s not. Let me show you something.”

  Joe followed Collin as he went to the elevator. Collin stepped inside and pressed the lobby button.

  “Where are we going?” Joe asked.

  “The building next door is used for special projects. There is something you need to see.”

  The ride to the bottom was silent. After the doors opened, Collin had the bodyguards give Joe his weapons back and then led the way to a side door. A small alley separated the buildings. They quickly crossed over and entered the next building. It was an office structure for medical testing. Joe passed room after room of medical equipment sitting idly in the dark. Up ahead, lights shined brightly. The interior labs were still operational. Inside, members were filling vials with some liquid. Collin stopped in front of the window. He was watching with pride.

  “When the outbreak started, everyone was just trying to survive.” Collin hung his head and shook it. “We are all still just trying to survive. It won’t last. We are outnumbered, and the undead don’t tire or hunger or thirst. Humans are lower on the food chain than they are. Evolution dictates our demise.”

  “That’s kind of a depressing way of looking at it,” Joe said.

  “Well it’s the truth. We are all going to die. Well, unless we do something about it.”

  Joe looked at the people filling vial after vial. “Did you find a cure?

  “No, I wish, but we didn’t. That’s not to say we didn’t try. In front of you are all the remaining doctors and medical researchers we could find. Even with their combined knowledge, there was no way to reverse the reaction. We did make a breakthrough though.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you see, one of the doctors, one night, after failing to find the cure, got really drunk. He started wandering through the floors of the building upstairs. Well we had cleared the building already, so we knew there was no zombie life anywhere. What we didn’t know is that the armed men had come across something. To them, it was just a room of slaughter, but to the scientist, it was a fundamental change in his thinking. Three floors above us is a large room. It had been the cafeteria in a previous life. In that room is a pile of dead bodies. Nearly twenty people had gotten cornered in there. Well the zombies found them. Actually two zombies found them. It was a blood bath. Those two zombies killed and ate almost every part of those people, and I don’t mean munched on them or ate a finger. I mean, whole bodies, gone. All we could find were little scraps of people and name tags that had been ripped off. Those small pieces of scrap were all that was left. It was a pure feast. Can you guess what happened to those two zombies next?”

  “They kept searching for more food?” Joe said.

  “They died,” Collin responded. “Actually died! Never to rise again.”

  “What?”

  “I know, right? That’s exactly how that scientist felt! Yet in that moment, he understood something. That’s when this scientist realized he had been trying something impossible. We had been trying to reclaim the past. We had been hoping to cure everyone and go back to the way things were. That’s not possible. What he needed to focus on was replicating what happened to those two zombies. We need to kill them all. We just need an efficient way.”

  “We already know how to kill them. Headshots.”

  “No, we need something easier. That scientist, there in that room, looking at blood smears and two rather fat, bloated, dead zombie bodies, had an epiphany. They had literally eaten themselves to death. Their gluttonous hunger was the key to killing them. So he came back to the lab, after sobering up some, and did something amazing. He found a way to kill zombies quickly and easily. With the liquid in there that they are putting into those tubes, we can kill the creatures in droves.

  “Is that a nerve gas or something?”

  “Something like that. It’s actually concentrated Enerjax enhancer.”

  “Enerjax? That’s what started this whole thing!”

  “Yes! It’s also what can end it. The Enerjax turns up your caloric burn. The intent was less laziness. What they didn’t expect was that the resultant increase in body temperature literally cooks the brain, turning you into a zombie.”

  “How does that explain raising things from the dead or keeping those creatures alive?”

  “All it takes is one dormant cell. The energy produced can replicate quickly. As for giving them more than normal life traits, they don’t need a heart or lungs. O
ur body uses blood and the heart to deliver oxygen to our cells, allowing us to function. Their bodies actually use pure cellular energy to function.”

  “So that chemical in there does what to kill them?”

  “It sends the effects of Enerjax into overdrive. That’s what happened to the zombies upstairs. They ate so much that their bodies went into crazy overdrive and burnt themselves out. Imagine a fire. If you added gas to it little by little, it could keep burning for as long as there was fuel to consume. But if you threw a ton of gas in all at once, a massive explosion would consume all the fuel at once, also snuffing out the fire. Fighting fire with fire.”

  “But you just said that we could wait until they run out of fuel. So outlasting them is an option too?”

  “Hypothetically, yes, but we don’t know how long that takes. We have a zombie chained up in a room down the hall that has been starving all winter and hasn’t died yet. This way, we can kill the plague now.”

  “Here, let me show you what I mean.” Collin led Joe down a dimly lit hall and opened a door. Light flooded out the second he cracked the door open. He paused before opening it fully. “We keep this room well lit for observation purposes, although looking at these things is not exactly a pleasant experience in full light. Just warning you.” The mayor stepped in. Joe followed him.

  Instantly Joe’s heart dropped. Chained to a wall by its wrists and ankles was a large zombie wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He was softly thrashing, trying to escape his tight bonds, trying to feed on the new entrants. Joe couldn’t believe his eyes. Even with the sunken eye sockets, bleeding nose and drool dripping from its veined lips, the zombie was instantly recognizable. It was, or rather used to be, Aaron.

  While Joe was caught in a zone, staring at the deformed version of someone he had helped rescue just a few months ago, the mayor had moved to a table that sat against the far wall. He picked up a clipboard and said, “Fifty-three days.”

  “What?” Joe asked.

  “It’s been fifty-three days since we captured this one. At least fifty-three days since it last ate.”