Zombie Park (The Z-Day Trilogy Book 1)

by Mark Cusco Ailes

  “I figured I would see you here,” he said, extending his hand. “I see you haven’t had any luck, either.”

  “Nobody wants to hire anybody our age,” said Ben. “They only want to hire kids fresh out of college.”

  “I hope it doesn’t fall true here. My bank accounts have been depleted. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get this job.”

  The line had grown even longer since he got there. “I’m in the same boat. If I don’t find a job soon, my landlord is going to try to find a way to evict me.”

  “Then I wish us both the best of luck.”

  The line moved at a snail’s pace once the building’s doors were opened to let them in. Once inside, he was given an application from a young girl with blonde hair.

  “Fill this out entirely and turn it back in once you’ve finished. You’ll get a phone call if we’re interested in setting up an interview,” she said with a smile.

  He took the application from her, thinking she had a fake smile. There were dozens of tables set up in the warehouse with chairs behind them. He made his way over to a chair and sat down. He picked up a pen lying on the table in front of him and looked at the application. He glanced through it until he came to a box wanting the date he graduated from high school. His heart sank. He knew it was against the law for a business to ask your age, but they found clever ways of finding out without asking the question. He thought about lying about his graduation date, but he knew if he did, they would eventually figure out he had lied. He looked around the room. There were mostly applicants there his age or older. None of them stood a chance of getting hired. He filled out the application and went back to the blonde girl and handed it back to her.

  She took it from him and smiled once again. “We’ll call you if we’re interested.”

  He shook his head. He knew he wasn’t going to receive a phone call from them. He went back to his car. He knew he had just wasted gas he didn’t have money to replace.

  By the time he got home, the mailman had already delivered the day’s mail. He opened his mailbox and pulled out a small stack of envelopes and made his way to his apartment. Once inside, he tossed them on the coffee table and went to make him a ham sandwich. He grabbed a soda and went over to his game system and turned it on. Once again he decided it was time to kill some zombies. He finished his sandwich and turned the video game off and looked down at the mail. One envelope caught his attention. The return address was local and it was from Robert Forenstein. He picked it up and stared at it. He couldn’t believe he got a response. He laughed. It is probably just a rejection letter thanking me for my idea. He opened it and retrieved the folded piece of paper inside and unfolded it.

  Mr. Ben Cutler. We are interested in your zombie park idea and want to set up an interview with you to further discuss it. Please call my office at the number listed on the bottom of the page at your earliest convenience. Thank you. It was signed by Mr. Forenstein.

  He dropped the letter, thinking it was a complete joke. He never imagined his zombie park idea would be taken seriously. He picked up the letter and read it once more. He picked up his phone and called the number listed. A female’s voice answered.

  “The Office of Robert Forenstein. How may I direct your call?”

  He remained silent. He wasn’t sure what he should say. He cleared his throat. “My name is Ben Cutler and…”

  “Please hold, Mr. Cutler. Mr. Forenstein is expecting your call.”

  His ear was filled with the sound of classical music; he thought it was Beethoven until Mr. Forenstein’s voice replaced the music.

  “Mr. Cutler. I was hoping to hear from you. I’m anxious to meet with you and discuss your idea.”

  “We are talking about the zombie park?” he asked hesitantly.

  “You sound surprised we’re interested in your idea.”

  “Come on, do you really think you can start a zombie park? Who would let you build one? And of course where would the zombies come from?”

  “Let’s not get excited, Mr. Cutler. Let’s set up a meeting for tomorrow morning, let’s say at nine, and I will fill you in on all the details. Trust me; you’ll be glad you did. Can I count on you being here?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mr. Forenstein peered over at General Poe and nodded his head. “You have nothing to worry about. I don’t see any problems with him joining our team.”

  “I can’t believe we didn’t come with this idea. With a zombie park, we can do our research without the public realizing what we’re doing. If this works according to plan, we’ll be the first country to use zombies as a weapon of mass destruction.”

  “What about the land we’ll need to build the park on?”

  “I talked to the realtor this morning. She has two hundred acres we can purchase by the end of the month. That should be enough land to put the zombie park on, and of course, our research facility.”

  “Professor Hollman informs me we are close to improving the serum.”

  “Does he still insist on calling it the ‘Z Virus’ serum? The name doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “What difference does it make, General Poe? A name is just a name. If calling it that makes the professor happy, then let him have it. All we should care about is if it actually works. We stand to make billions off this technology.”

  “Speaking of the professor, when’s the last time we heard from him?”

  “It’s been a week. He informed me he would call me once everything was in order.”

  “You should call him now. I want to make sure everything is on schedule, and to make sure our professor hasn’t fallen victim to his own creation.”

  “It’s a good point. I’ll give him a call now. I’ll just say we’re calling him to give him the good news about a zombie park.”

  Chapter Three

  Professor Nicholas Hollman was standing in front of a cage watching as a zombie was trying to grab him through the bars. This zombie was the first mistake he had made. The serum he had been striving to develop was having side effects he hadn’t anticipated. The ‘Z Virus’ was making his zombies uncontrollable. The main objective of the zombie creation was to make ones which could be controlled and trained for military deployment. So far all he had created were zombies you would see in a horror movie. George Romero would most likely be proud of his accomplishments, but General Poe would be disappointed. He knew what the general wanted was going to be a huge challenge. He had no realistic idea on how they would ever be able to control a zombie. He turned to walk away from his creation when his arm was grabbed by the zombie and pulled toward the bar. A large stick hit the zombie in the chest, causing it to relinquish its hold on the professor.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stay back several feet from the cages,” said Carlton Ross. He was referred to as the ‘Zombie Handler’ because he was responsible for handling and feeding the zombies that had been created so far.

  “I didn’t need your help. I had the matter in hand.”

  “It sure looked like it. You have to watch that one. He would tear you to shreds if he had the opportunity.”

  Professor Hollman glared at him. He was already aware of what the zombie was capable of doing. He started to walk away from the cage and then abruptly stopped. “Have you fed this one today?”

  “The cook is processing the vagrants right now. He told me to come back in an hour.”

  “Are we sure nobody will miss the vagrants being sent to us for food?”

  “I can’t answer that for you. I only feed the zombies, not keep tabs on where their food comes from.”

  Professor Hollman stood there staring at him before leaving the cell block where the zombies were being kept. He made his way back to his lab and over to his wife, Professor Kathy Hollman. She was busy looking at a slide through a microscope. “I don’t understand what I’m looking at.”

  He went over to the microscope to have a look
. He peered up and shook his head. “The cells are mutating faster than expected. This is why we’re losing control of the zombies.”

  “Can we slow down the process?”

  He scratched his head. “Perhaps if I knew what we were dealing with. There are no studies on the subject. We’re the first to try to develop zombies and actually try to control them.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “This is useless. What they want from us simply can’t be done. I don’t see how…” She was interrupted by the phone ringing and her husband went over to answer it. Mr. Forenstein was on the line.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, professor, but I have some good news. Soon we’re going to be building the new facility you wanted in Valparaiso, Indiana. You’ll be able to continue your work there without any more prying eyes.”

  “Will I get all the equipment I need?”

  “You’ll be getting everything from the list you gave me. By the way, how close are we?”

  “Closer than we were yesterday. We still have some wrinkles to iron out, but I’m sure we’ll get where you want us to be.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, professor. I’ll inform you once we have all the details of your move to Indiana.”

  “What did he want, Nicholas?”

  “The same thing he always wants. He wants to know how far we are in our research.”

  “We should be able to test the serum on another vagrant tomorrow. There is something I want to try that could help slow down the mutations.”

  He looked at her and turned to walk toward the cell block. “We now have created ten zombies we can’t control. The general is going to be concerned if we keep failing. We need to start from step one again and figure out what exactly we’re missing.”

  “You go do that. I’m going to work on my idea and see how far it gets us.”

  “I warned General Poe we’re playing God. Zombies should be left in the movies and books. If God intended for there to be zombies in the world, they would already be here. Just think about our ten zombies locked up. If just one of them gets loose, we would have an epidemic we would quickly lose control of. We should also consider developing an antidote.”

  “But General Poe told us it wasn’t necessary.”

  “He hasn’t met the creatures we locked in cages back there yet. I’m sure once he lays eyes on them, he’ll want us to develop one as soon as possible.”

  She knew her husband was right. “I’ve already started working on one.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Right after the first zombie we created. I got scared. I don’t want to ever end up like one of them.”

  “Don’t worry; I won’t let it happen to you.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “How can you make a promise like that? Have you ever tried to fight a zombie before?”

  “No, not yet. I just hope it never comes to that.”

  Carlton walked into the room after feeding the zombies. “There is only one way to kill a zombie.”

  “I know. It’s the one thing you keep telling us. You have to shoot it in the head,” said Nicholas. “May I remind you I’m not stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were, professor. I was just stating the facts.”

  “Carlton, can you bring me a canine in the morning? I have a serum I want to test. I don’t want to waste any more vagrants until I’m sure we’ll have positive results,” requested Kathy.

  “Sure thing, professor. I’ll have one waiting for you in the morning. I’m going home now, so I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Carlton,” she said. “Don’t let the zombies bite.”

  “Funny.”

  Chapter Four

  Ben tossed and turned all night wondering what Mr. Forenstein was going to inform him about the zombie park idea. He recalled the dream he had in the park. It seemed like the perfect idea. The park would be the first of its kind. It would certainly put money back into his declining bank account. He imagined the house he could purchase from his profits. It would finally give him the opportunity to march over to his landlord’s office and tell him where he could stick it. He could just see the look on his face when he told him he was breaking his lease because he became a millionaire overnight. The look on his face was going to be priceless. He rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He thought about stopping by the bakery and getting a chocolate doughnut and a small cup of coffee. He figured if he was going to become a millionaire soon, he could treat himself.

  After he showered, he looked in his closet, hoping to find something appropriate for the meeting, but nothing caught his eye. The only clothes he owned were jeans and a large supply of superhero shirts. He selected a newer pair of black jeans and a white shirt depicting Batman fighting the Joker. He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head. It was the best he could do for the meeting.

  He was running ahead of schedule when he got to the bakery and decided to eat his doughnut inside to waste some time. It would give him a chance to think about what he wanted to say at the meeting. He wanted to sound intelligent. He knew if he sounded uneducated, he would probably be shown the door, and he would lose his opportunity of a lifetime.

  After ordering his doughnut and coffee, he chose a booth near the rear and sat down. He was surrounded by several men in business attire and a woman who looked as though she had just come from the gym. He chuckled to himself. It was the same thing every time. He wondered if any of the businessmen ever got up first thing in the morning and went to the gym.

  He stirred cream and sugar into his coffee and listened to a man talking on his cell phone at the table next to his. The man appeared to be angry over a move his stockbroker had made which lost him nearly a million dollars. He wondered what it would be like to have that kind of life. He came from a poor family and never knew what it was like to have a substantial amount of money. His father worked at a plastics factory and his mom delivered the local newspaper. They were both getting near retirement age, and he often wondered if they would have enough to retire. His thoughts were interrupted by the man on the cell phone choking and falling to the floor. Several people near him ran to his aid and tried to help him, but the man became silent. It was apparent he had choked on a piece of doughnut while yelling at his stockbroker. This scared him. It was because of money this man had died. He made a mental note to make sure he never argued with a stockbroker.

  He was trying to forget the angered look on the man’s face as he drove toward Mr. Forenstein’s office. He had to keep a clear mind once the meeting began. He reached the office with ten minutes to spare. He went inside and was met by a young woman in a blue dress.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cutler,” she said, smiling. “Mr. Forenstein will come get you in a moment. Please have a seat.”

  He wondered how she knew who he was. He figured it had to be because he was probably the only appointment for the morning. He took a seat and picked up a magazine about the advances in science. He decided to pretend he was reading it to give the appearance he was intelligent.

  Ten minutes later Mr. Forenstein came to get him and noticed the magazine he was reading. “Did you read the interesting article about how the Ebola virus will eventually wipe us all out? It makes you want to hide underground the rest of your life.”

  Ben put down the magazine. “I didn’t get to that article.”

  “You can take the magazine with you if you want. You’re probably the first person to look at it since I put it out here.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t have a lot of spare time to read.”

  Mr. Forenstein shook his head. “I know what you mean. There are simply not enough hours in the day. Follow me to my office. I have a lot I want to discuss with you.”

  He followed Mr. Forenstein into his office. He looked around. He figured he had once been in the military, or he collected military items. The room had several models of tanks and planes on shelves and a military vet flag secured to
one of the walls. He also had several military knickknacks on his desk surrounded by stacks of papers.

  He took a seat in front of his desk and waited until Mr. Forenstein was situated behind the desk. He watched as he picked up some papers from the stack and handed it to him.

  “I need you to read this and then sign and date on the bottom. It’s a standard form my lawyer makes me get signed.” He handed the papers to Ben. “You have three forms you have to sign.”

  He took the forms from him and looked at them. The first one gave Mr. Forenstein the right to his idea.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Cutler. The form just gives me the right to finance your idea. The second and third form basically entitles me to get paid with the park’s profits and permits me to put my name on the park’s records. It’s all quite boring stuff only my lawyer can comprehend.” He waited until the forms were signed before handing him another form. “This one is very important, Mr. Cutler. This makes sure that everything discussed here today will stay in this office. We can’t have the whole world trying to steal the ideas we discuss today.” He waited until the form was signed and handed back to him. “Before we go any further, do you have any questions so far?”

  Ben looked at him as if he had been taken completely by surprise. He hadn’t been expecting to sign so many forms before the meeting. “I’m a little confused.”

  “I knew you would be. Let me start by telling you why I’m financing your idea, or would like to if you agree to the plans I have. This zombie park idea of yours has potential. This will be the place where people can go to visit the monsters from their dreams. I imagine George Romero, himself, wished there was a place where he could go to see the creatures he’s been writing about all these years. I love the idea of adding rides, arcade games, and concessions. The park will have everything for a family to enjoy for the entire day. I’ve also worked on discount tickets and coupons for a coupon day.”