Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3)

by Sean Platt

  He leaned forward and winked.

  “But I’ll be the one to slice your pretty little throat when they’re through.”

  CHAPTER 34—ADAM LOVECRAFT

  Darkness cloaked them as they crept from one set of shadows to the next, sticking close to the walls, ready for anything.

  But as night came, and with it fresh snow, life had left the streets—save for the undead variety of roughly two dozen zombies that stood between them and the bank, milling around in the lot in front of the entrance to Apex National Bank, the building to which they’d tracked Zelle.

  “Why are they just standing there?” Adam whispered to Colton as they hid behind a wall of broken vehicles, rusting across the street.

  “Hell if I know,” Colton said. “Maybe they were bankers and they just can’t stand the thought of leaving their money behind.”

  Adam ignored the joke and looked at the box screen. “I still don’t see Zelle.” The girl, who had been on the rooftop until about an hour ago, seemed to be gone. Adam couldn’t help but think she’d been found and either killed by another player or eaten.

  “Relax, kid. I’m sure she just went downstairs to get out of the elements when the temperature dropped.”

  Adam stared at the bank. The building climbed 40 stories, with a tall spire at the top. Most of the building’s glass windows were still in place, dark and impossible to see through. The place could be empty, or packed 40 floors high with more zombies. The closer they got to Zelle, the more Adam felt an impending sense of doom closing in around them.

  “What happens if she left without us?”

  “No way she got out of The Outback alone. I’m the only one who knows where the right tunnels are.”

  “Well, what if she’s dead? What then?”

  “Then we leave. But we’re not doing that until we find out. You’re not getting cold feet, are you, Adam? I mean, you almost got us both killed trying to save those two strangers, and now you’re going to let a few zombies stand between you and saving a girl from your City, a girl you know?”

  “I’m not getting cold feet,” Adam said, indignant. “I just don’t want to get our hopes up that she’s still alive.”

  “Don’t be morbid, kid. Let’s find her.”

  Colton led the way, Hellweaver aimed at the zombies as they approached. He fired overhead. The shrapnel spun in place momentarily before exploding in a screaming flash of white.

  Adam turned from the blinding light, ears buzzing, then turned back, blaster in hand, trying to see if there was anything still standing. Before his eyes had adjusted from the flash, something dark began to lumber toward him.

  Adam raised the blaster and fired.

  After he got his shot off, something hit him from behind. Adam spun, firing blindly at the shape behind him, hoping it wasn’t Colton.

  His eyes adjusted, and he saw the shredded remains of several zombies on the ground.

  But beyond the ashes, Adam was alone.

  He turned around, his heart racing.

  Colton?

  He looked back at the ground, thinking for certain he’d accidentally shot Colton.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  He screamed Colton’s name into the biting wind.

  “Stop yelling,” Colton called from the bank’s front doors.

  Adam breathed a relieved sigh, then followed.

  Colton led the way—aiming his rifle with the mounted flashlight, rather than the Hellweaver now strapped to his back—as they stepped into the lobby.

  Even in the dark, the bank seemed larger inside. Colton’s light revealed crumbling tiles dangling from the ceiling and half destroyed walls that turned the lobby into a debris-strewn pit. Adam tried to cover the areas where Colton wasn’t focused, staring into the darkness as if he could will his eyes to see into the shadows. They inched across the lobby. Adam felt exposed, as if something could be right next to him.

  Between the pressing darkness and the sounds of creaking metal, the building felt like a sleeping giant, poised to wake and crush them at the slightest provocation.

  Colton paused, his gear’s metal clinking to a stop as he whispered to Adam. “Keep your finger on the guard, not on the trigger. We don’t want to kill the poor girl.”

  “Copy,” Adam said, sliding his finger from the trigger. He was a good shot but not great. If zombies came at them in the darkness he might not get a bead on them quickly enough to bring them down. But Colton was right. Adam was just as likely to accidentally shoot the girl.

  As he swept his light across the lobby, Colton called out, “Zelle. We’re here to help you.”

  They finished sweeping the lobby, then Colton led them to the stairs.

  Thirty nine more floors of this? This’ll take hours.

  Adam wasn’t about to gripe aloud, though. Colton had come back to save him. He owed his father’s old friend. He’d spend the next two days searching the bank if that’s what it took to find Zelle.

  After another four floors of nothing, and what felt like those two days, they made it to the fifth floor. It was there they spotted movement for the first time, at the end of a long hallway.

  “Did you see that?” Colton asked.

  “What was it?” He’d seen something but couldn’t tell if it was the girl.

  “Zelle?” Colton called, trying to keep his voice from going beyond their hall.

  No response, other than creaky complaints from the building.

  “What if it’s a zombie?” Adam asked, wanting Colton to quiet down.

  “Zombies don’t run away. Whoever that was did.”

  “What if it’s a bandit?”

  “Could well be, so let’s be careful.”

  The hallway was in a T formation with the stairway at the bottom of the T—unless there was a broken floor or ceiling, there was no way the person could get away without passing—or killing—them.

  “Remember,” Colton said, “finger on the guard. Wait for my signal or my fire to take any shots.”

  “Got it.” His gut twisted. Once again he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap. Adam wondered if he would continue down the hall or turn and run if he were alone. Part of him was grateful he didn’t have to find out and that Colton was with him. Precious little of his training had prepared him for this kind of situation, being virtually alone in a decrepit building possibly full of people and things that would like nothing better than to kill him.

  “Zelle!” Colton called out. “We’re here to help.”

  “Go away!” a young girl’s voice shouted back, trying its best to sound tough, “or my daddy will kill you.”

  “Daddy?” Adam whispered to Colton. “I thought you said she was alone.”

  Colton shrugged. “Call out to her. Tell her your name. I’m hoping she remembers you.”

  “OK.” Adam cleared his throat. “Zelle! It’s me, Adam Lovecraft! We used to live in the same building. Me and my friend are here to help you get out.”

  Silence.

  Then the girl stepped out into the hallway, a light aimed at them.

  “Adam?” she asked, voice still tough. “Come closer so I can see you.”

  Adam stepped past Colton even as the man grabbed at him. A blast of energy blew toward his body, barely missing him and showering him with plaster as Colton tugged him back.

  He fell to the ground, heart in his throat. Colton just looked down at him, shaking his head.

  Who fired at me?

  “Put your gun down!” Zelle screamed, light shaking in her hand. Adam realized she had a light on her pistol. She was scared and had probably fired accidentally.

  Adam looked back to see Colton aiming his rifle at Zelle.

  “Don’t shoot!” he yelled at Colton, then stood, slowly, hands in the air, his own gun on the ground. “Sorry!”

  Adam’s heart raced as he stepped forward, hoping that she recognized him and wasn’t trying to disarm him simply to make killing him easier.

  He stepped clos
er. She cried out, “Adam!”

  Zelle lowered her light and gun. She ran to him, hugging Adam hard, crying into his chest.

  Adam was caught off guard. Zelle was hugging him like he was a long-lost brother, rather than the kid who used to sometimes babysit. He could only imagine her hell since getting thrown into The Games.

  Zelle pulled back and met his eyes, crying.

  “You’ve got to help my dad. He’s hurt bad.”

  CHAPTER 35—KELLER

  Keller sat on the chair and stared at the sleeping man, watching, summoning the courage to do what had to be done.

  He reached out with a gloved hand, clicked on the overhead lamp, then smacked Elderman Denton Sinclair across the face.

  Sinclair woke with a yelp.

  Keller covered the man’s mouth and placed his blaster to the man’s head.

  Keller watched as Sinclair looked up, his eyes adjusting to his own horrified expression reflected in Keller’s helmet.

  “Rise and shine, Elderman,” Keller said through his helmet’s speakers, knowing his voice would come out amplified and distorted.

  Sinclair wouldn’t know who was in his house. Also, Keller had disabled the helmet’s always-on monitoring features. There was no way for anyone at City Watch to track where the suit had been.

  And since Sinclair had blocked the camera feed inside his own house, there was nothing here to record this conversation.

  Sinclair regained his composure quickly, or wore a solid façade at least. Keller almost wanted to give him credit for that.

  “What are you doing in here?” He asked as if he knew who was behind the helmet.

  “I’ve come to talk to you about the attack on City 1.”

  “Do you mind removing the gun from my head?” Frustration furrowed Sinclair’s brow and seeped into his voice.

  Keller sat back in the chair beside the bed, but his gun was still trained on the Elder.

  Sinclair started to sit up.

  “No,” Keller said. “You lie there.”

  Sinclair glared at Keller. “I hope you see that what you’re doing here is treasonous. I’ll have your head, Mister Keller.”

  No surprise, Sinclair guessing his identity, but Keller left his helmet on just the same.

  “You really want to talk treason, old man? I’ve had a look around your place while you were up here sleeping the sleep of the damned.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Keller reached over to the nightstand where he’d placed a few of the more incriminating papers, picked them up, and tossed them at Sinclair.

  “I’ve got documents linking you to the attack on City 1 and to a man named Sutherland. I show this to anyone, you’ll be in a very Special Edition of The Games. Or, perhaps, we can work something out?”

  Sinclair paused, eyeing Keller as if he could read Keller’s expression through the reflective glass. “What do you want, Mr. Keller?”

  Keller removed his helmet and smiled into the man’s eyes. “I want what’s mine.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to be named the One True Leader. Not this provisional shit. I’ve given my life for this job and you people treat me like an errand boy. How am I supposed to command the respect of my people, of the other Cities, when you undermine me with this provisional title? Even if people don’t know Geralt is dead, they sure as hell know he’s not coming back. For all they’re concerned, he’s retired.”

  Sinclair laughed, “Is that all you want?”

  “No,” Keller said. “I also want to know why you planned the attack and who Sutherland is.”

  Sinclair eyed him up and down. “May I please sit up?”

  “Yes,” Keller said, watching the old man move into a seated position on the bed. “Now talk.”

  “First, I need to know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Have you ever regretted the lives you’ve taken in The State’s name?”

  “Not a one,” Keller said firmly.

  “See, men like you, like us, we know the stakes of being too soft. The why of the attack is a bit complicated, but the short of it is that I, and some others, disagreed with The Council about The State’s general direction. As I’m sure you’re aware, The State had grown lenient over the past decade. You’ve had all these rebel groups popping up, disgracing and attacking us. Hell, I don’t need to tell you. You lost your son to one such attack, right?”

  Keller nodded.

  “That’s what happens when you reward aggression as The Council has done too often, cutting deals with traitors and not going full bore to the infestation’s root. Prior to the attack, the Elders were on the verge of passing some laws that would’ve not only ended The Darwin Games but instituted voting for individual City leaders . . . by the populace! We both know that people are too stupid to rule themselves. They need a strong council, a strong leader, people like us. Right?”

  Keller nodded again. Exactly—they need me.

  “There’re a few of us who still remember the final days of The Old Nation. A glorious nation brought to its knees by weakness, vice, and a cowardice in dealing with enemies—external and internal. But that all ended with our “great discovery.” It was the 1970s, and we’d made a way to slow aging so much it was practically stopped. Overnight we had the technology to live for centuries. Everything changed, but at the same time, we saw that our blessing was a curse. Death is a key instrument in preventing overpopulation and conserving resources. Nature is balanced. Our playing God threw a wrench in that. The government realized that given how society was crumbling already, this ‘miracle’ would only accelerate our extinction. So I, Jack Geralt, and a few others in the government developed a virus to end humanity as we knew it. You know it as the ‘zombie virus,’ though its actual name escapes me now.”

  Keller’s stomach turned as the man nonchalantly discussed killing his own species like he was merely chatting over tea.

  “Anyway, the government created six underground, city-sized bunkers and picked 60,000 of the best and brightest, people who would contribute rather than leach off of society, and divided these people among the bunkers. Then the government unleashed the virus. Mankind fell as its most talented thrived underground. Later, we erected cities over these bunkers while those who survived the plague became The Barrens’ savages.”

  “So,” Keller said, just to be certain that he was hearing everything right, “you’re saying that you and Geralt unleashed the virus that wiped out humanity?”

  “Well, us and others, yes. Including The City 1 Elders. We did return strong, but, sadly, within a few generations we saw the worst of humanity rearing its ugly head among our handpicked and their offspring. Funny, huh? It seems that without the guiding hand of power, humans always devolve into their true parasitic nature.”

  “Yes indeed,” Keller said, still trying to process it all. It brought him to his other question: “So, how was Lovecraft involved?”

  “We targeted Jonah early. We’d discovered his part in The Underground. We pushed him into a position where he would be sympathetic to ‘our cause,’ the one we told him, anyway. I said I felt guilty—imagine that—for what we’d done to humanity. And that I wanted revenge against Geralt and the evil State.”

  “And he was OK with this?”

  “Ha! If only. Funny thing—we programmed him to kill his wife, made him believe that you were responsible, and engineered it so his daughter and son would wind up in The Games, and still he didn’t hate The State enough to strike back! How weak are the foolish?”

  Keller’s heart sunk with the realization that he was a pawn no different from Jonah. He wondered if his son had also been part of their plans. He figured this was his chance to find out.

  “Were you responsible for Joshua’s death?”

  “No,” Sinclair said with conviction, “that was The Underground. A despicable lot with all the wrong reasons and none of the sense God gave monkeys.”

  “How
did you get Jonah to do it?”

  “Sutherland. You may remember him as Dennis Weaver, a lunatic cult-leader terrorist who wound up living in one of The Barrens’ many villages. He’s part of some nonsense out there called The Patriots of The New Revolution. Anytime some group calls itself ‘patriots,’ you know they’re easily led and eager to do the bidding of the true power holders. They stand for bringing down The Walls and bringing ‘equality’ and ‘freedom’ to all people—like these savages would know what the hell to do with freedom or the responsibilities that come with it. They’d somehow managed to grab hold of the weaponized canisters of the zombie virus, you see, probably left over in one of the bunkers. So I decided to pitch myself as an ally, fund them, see if I could put them to use like the good little tools they are. To answer your specific question, though, Sutherland had Ana. He threatened her if Jonah didn’t play ball.”

  Sinclair was smiling, proud of his plot. “Irony is, of course, that getting them to attack City 1 played into our hands. They thought they’d cripple the government. But I and my companions knew the truth—it would only make us stronger. Every now and then you must flush out the world’s detritus and start over. It’s what we did with the original virus, and what we had Sutherland and Jonah do in City 1. They helped us eliminate enemies, the very people who might have helped them. We made sure beforehand that the right citizens wouldn’t get infected and that the right leaders would live to see prominence on The Council.”

  “Genius,” Keller said.

  Sinclair smiled. “Thank you. I wanted to bring you in earlier, but some of the things you’ve done since your arrival had me worried that we might not be on the same page.”

  “Oh, no,” Keller said. “I’m sympathetic. But I don’t appreciate being left in the dark when I can be of use.”

  “Good,” Sinclair said, beaming. “Sometimes, you need a catastrophic event like this to make people realize what’s important—strength, solidarity, and a strong leader. Tell me, Keller, are you ready to be that leader?”

  Keller smiled. “I am. I think you people are geniuses. True leaders that The State needs and deserves!” He got serious for a moment. “I do, however, have one small concern.”