by Jay Zano
“You telling me there’s zombies in the city?” the operator asks, popping her gum.
“I’m telling you to keep your voice down until we figure out what’s going on down at Zook Towers! You know the entire building is on lockdown and the calls that were coming in were frantic screams. This is the first caller that’s actually talking.”
“Alright, alright! The call is waiting for you on line three.”
“Hello, this is nine-one-one, Supervisor Gloria speaking, you’re on the call with Sergeant O’Malley from the NYPD. Can you tell us your name, how you are doing and what’s going on inside your building?”
“I can tell you that your hold music sucks balls,” Sid spits, clearly distraught and probably not the best person to lead the call at this point, “and who puts someone in the middle of a zombie outbreak on hold?”
“Sid, Sid, I got this,” I murmur, rubbing his shoulders and gently taking control of the phone. “Hello, Gloria, my name is Tyson. Please excuse my friend Sid; we’ve been locked up here in the server room for hours with no information, not to mention no food, water or bathroom breaks. To answer your question, we’re currently doing fine and, to be frank, we have no idea what’s going on in the building.”
“How many are with you, right now?”
“It’s me, Sid and my friends Johnny and Fickle. We’re currently holed up in the server room on the fiftieth floor. It’s secure right now, but we haven’t ventured out too far to see just how safe.”
“What makes you think you’re in danger? Sid mentioned zombies.”
“Well, I was hoping you knew more than we do, but that doesn’t sound like it’s the case. We had an alarm go off, and suddenly we were locked in the server room. It’s designed to lock when a security protocol is initiated. When power was restored, we were able to get out. That’s when we saw Sid and two coworkers who looked like they wanted to eat him.”
“Where was Sid coming from?”
“He was locked in the maintenance closet.”
“Why?”
“That’s irrelevant to the current situation,” I say, noticing Sid’s growing discomfort.
“You mentioned they looked like they wanted to eat him, what do you mean by that?”
“Ever see Zombieland?”
“No.”
“Night of the Living Dead?”
“Sorry!”
“Jesus! Well, imagine a zombie and then imagine said zombie trying to bite your fucking face off. Something like that!”
“Tyson, this is Sergeant O’Malley. I understand. Where are these coworkers now?”
“Well, they’re dead now.”
“And how did that happen?”
“Well… Wait! Do I need to get my lawyer on the phone?”
“Not necessary, Tyson. Do me a favor and just hold for a few seconds. Captain Jeffords is on the scene, I’m going to transfer you.”
CHAPTER 9
EMERGENCY RESPONSE
“HELLO, THIS IS Captain Jeffords, who am I speaking to?”
“This is Tyson, I’m inside Zook Towers.”
Captain Jeffords pauses for a moment, covers the mouthpiece of the phone and scrambles over to the chief.
“Chief, I have a Tyson on the phone. He says he’s calling from inside Zook Towers.”
“Come with me,” says the chief, looking anxious. They make their way inside a secure police communication RV.
“Everyone out!” the chief exclaims. Three men and one woman take off their headsets and hastily exit the vehicle.
“Tyson,” the chief says into the phone, “this is Chief Franklin from the NYPD; tell me exactly where you are and your current situation.”
“Oh, hey Chief! Hey, guys, I have the chief of the NYPD on the phone! I’d say that proves our situation is pretty fucked.”
“Calm down, Tyson. Please tell me all you can.”
“Well, Chief, me and three of my boys are currently locked in the server room on the fiftieth floor. I’d say the current situation is pretty dire, since it seems that everyone outside of this server room is a face-eating zombie. To be honest, I was hoping you could tell me what the hell is going on, not the other way around!”
“Listen, I understand you’re upset—”
“Upset? I had to beat my coworker’s head with a paper cutter until his brain looked like a sloppy joe sandwich. To make matters worse, you’re asking me what I know, which tells me you guys don’t know jack shit! Yeah, I guess I would say that I’m pretty upset.”
“Listen, I’m gonna need you to calm down so we can help you!”
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Okay, now I’m calm, what would you like to know?”
“You mentioned that you have three people with you; is everyone okay?”
“Oh yes, we’re great.” I say sarcastically
“Okay, can you describe your current situation?”
“We’re currently in the server room on the fiftieth floor. We have AC, power and a phone. We also have a peephole in our server room door to see the immediate outside offices. Currently, there are two hacked-up zombies in our sightline that used to be our coworkers. That’s about it! So, when can you come get us?”
“We’re working on a plan. For now, sit tight and don’t open that door.”
“Chief,” Captain Jeffords says insistently.
“What is it, Jeffords?” replies the chief, covering the mouthpiece.
“The army just rolled up on the scene, and when I say ‘rolled up’, I mean it looks like the entire army just arrived.”
The chief opens the door of the RV to see two dozen convoy trucks of military personnel pulling up, accompanied by a dozen black SUVs. Overhead, six apache helicopters buzz into view.
“Jesus!” The chief shakes his head, then takes his eyes off the sky, getting back to his call. “Alright, listen to me, Tyson: I have your number here and will call you back with extraction instructions. In the meantime, don’t leave that room. You’re safest there.”
“Wait, when are you going to call me back?”
“As soon as we finalize our plan. Do me a favor, don’t talk to anyone else. You’re to work with the NYPD only, at this point. You have to trust me on this. Until we reconnect, sit tight!”
“Well, that’ll be… Hello? Hello? He hung up on me!”
“So what’s the bet?” Vegas chimes.
“The bet is to sit tight, trust no one and wait for further instructions.”
The chief walks out of the RV with a small entourage of officers on his flank. As he walks towards the endless line of military vehicles, he’s approached by a high-ranking soldier with his own flanking entourage.
”I’m Chief Franklin of the NYPD,” the chief insists, “and I have control and jurisdiction of this crime scene.”
“Not anymore, we’re taking over,” says the official in the middle of the pack.
“Sergeant Braxton,” growls Chief Franklin, looking down at the name badge before him. “Under what authority?”
“Under the authority of the president of the United States. And it’s Sergeant Major Braxton. You and your men are to confine yourselves to perimeter duty and crowd control.”
“The situation is currently under control. You can’t just take over!”
“I assure you, I can. I need a complete briefing on what’s going on inside the building, and you can provide that while the rest of your men hop on a horse and hold the goddamn line. Martial law is now in effect.”
“Martial law? Isn’t that a bit extreme for a locked-down building that we clearly have control of? What exactly is going on here, Sergeant Major?”
“That information is on a ‘need to know’ basis. All I need to know from you now is whether you’re willing to cooperate with us or whether you need to be removed.”
The chief is ready to argue, but he sees two heavily armed Humvees joining the garrison of military personnel.
“You have our full cooperation,” he says.
“Good. Now, wha
t can you tell me about this building? Have you made contact with anyone inside?”
“This is Zook Towers; you may have heard of the owner. He’s the billionaire responsible for supplying you with most of your weapons, here. He’s not inside, though; he’s out of the office. We talked to him a while ago. Seemed concerned about the wellbeing of his employees.”
“Anyone make contact with anyone on the inside?”
The chief pauses for a second.
“Nope.”
“Are you sure about that, Chief?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major. Not for lack of trying. Seems like all comms are down within the building. Almost like a security protocol completely took the building off the grid.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all I can think of at the moment. If anything else pops into my head, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Okay, now, if you could kindly draw your men back, we will take it from here.”
“Jeffords, tell the men in blue to stand down. Martial law is now in effect.”
Looking dejected, Jeffords responds, “Yes, sir.”
“Chief, what gives?” Jeffords exclaims as they make their way away from the military personnel.
“There’s a lot more going on here than a terrorist event. My money is on something shady with the military and Zook. Think about it; martial law on a completely contained crime scene! I know how the military works, and this is way outside protocol. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here, but I know the smell of bullshit. Something tells me the sergeant major isn’t too concerned with the wellbeing of anyone in that building.”
“Why didn’t you tell him we have someone on the inside?”
“Think about it, Jeffords. These guys aren’t here to control the situation. Look at the arsenal they brought along. They might be here to protect something inside that building, or to make sure nothing comes out of it, but they’re not concerned with getting New Yorkers to safety. With Zook and his shady business practices, who knows their real intent? All I know is that they’ll try to remove us from the situation if they can. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen. You understand what I’m saying, Jeffords?”
“Yes, sir. I think you’re telling me to ignore direct orders from a high-ranking military officer, risk my career, my pension and possible jail time in an attempt to save a few New Yorkers.”
“That’s right. You in?”
“Um, hell yeah, I’m in! What’s the plan?”
“I’m working on it.”
CHAPTER 10
BACK ONLINE
I’M GOING OUT of my damn mind locked in this server room. It’s so funny that just a few short hours ago, this was my solace, my place of zen. Now, it’s my prison. The walls are closing in on me and, worse, I can’t handle Fickle rocking and whining, Sid banging away on the KVM keyboard and Vegas constantly telling us what our odds for survival are. Only a few hours in, and I’m ready to commit murder because I’m so freaking annoyed! I guess that’s how fast shit can fall apart. It’s like my own adult version of Lord of the Flies.
“Hey, guys,” Sid screeches, “you’re all gonna want to suck my dick when I tell you what I just did!”
“Probably not, but let’s see,” I say, making my way to the server rack, where Sid has been pecking at the keyboard.
“I just got all the video cameras back online!”
“You’re kidding me!” I exclaim, looking over to see all the monitors light up with video surveillance. Vegas makes his way over while Fickle continues to pout in the corner.
“Fickle,” I shout, “get over here and suck Sid’s dick for being a genius!”
Fickle rises slowly, motivated solely by morbid curiosity about what lies outside our prison walls. We all take a moment to observe the spectacle of dead bodies, gory, blood-soaked hallways and seemingly hundreds of mindless zombies slumbering in the offices and halls of our building. All is silent, except for Sid gleefully banging away at the keyboard. Sid’s a good friend of mind, mostly because he has no real friends. He has a genius IQ, but he’s completely devoid of emotion. He doesn’t understand innuendos or mockery, takes everything at face value. Sure, he’s infatuated with Susie, but only because she’s teased him for years. Stupid bitch is probably a zombie now.
“I have another surprise for you, Tyson,” says Sid, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“Well, the best I can do is to have Fickle add a rimjob to his blow.”
“The network may be back up, but the internal firewalls are down.”
“So?”
“So I can get to any camera in the building now, including your girlfriend’s.”
I hadn’t mentioned it because I didn’t want to be a whiny bitch like Fick, but I’d been struggling to come to terms with Zoe’s fate. Sid’s comment has me terrified to even look. Surely he wouldn’t tell me about this unless Zoe was okay? Then again, it’s Sid. He’s not capable of understanding how seeing her dead, or as a zombie, would impact me emotionally.
“Sid, don’t screw with me.”
“I’m not. Do you want to see her?”
“Is she dead?”
“Take a look,” he says breezily, pulling up the feed on the main monitor. There she is, locked in a security office. I move towards the screen, just to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. She’s alive! I can’t believe what I’m seeing; she has her head down, scared, but she’s alive! As I walk a little closer, she lifts her head off the desk. Her eyes are red, she’s been crying. Guessing that this whole outbreak started on her floor, I can only imagine what she’s been through. I walk closer and touch the screen under her eyes, as if to wipe away the tears. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
“We have to get to her! We have to save her!”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” a suddenly engaged Fickle replies. “Going to ground zero to try and save a girl you’ve only talked to in an elevator is the dumbest shit I’ve heard since this outbreak happened.”
“Screw you, Fick! You’re such a wuss.”
“Well, a wuss I may be, but at least I’m not a moron. Sid, pull up the camera in the suite outside Ty’s girlfriend’s office.”
Sid starts searching through the hundreds of camera IP addresses, trying to decipher the adjacent cameras.
“Here they are,” he says, pulling them up. “Take a good look, Tyson. That place is crawling with hundreds of goddamn zombies! We nearly got our asses kicked by two of them, and one was a frail-ass woman who could barely lift a coffee pot. Now, you want us all to risk our lives so you can be a hero and maybe get a hook-up out of it? I say, ‘no thanks’.”
“He’s right, Tyson,” Vegas chimes in. “The odds are really against us.”
I know they’re right, but shit, we’ve been locked up in this server room, helpless and hopeless. Suddenly, I feel like I have some purpose, and these pussies would rather sit and die in this room than do something meaningful.
“Plus, how do you even know she isn’t behind this outbreak?” Fickle demands.
“Screw you, Fick! She’s up there crying and scared, and you think she’s a conspirator in the apocalypse! Go to hell, man. Go to hell.”
“All I’m saying is that she works as security detail in a lab we all know does crazy shit, and now this happens. We’re staying put and waiting for the cops.”
“You wait, you asshole. You didn’t talk to those cops, I did. They have no damn clue what’s going on. Think about this: what are the chances we even get out of here alive? They probably want everyone in the building dead. We need to start thinking about our own plan, instead of just waiting for someone to save us. No one’s coming! I think we need to form our own plan, who’s with me?”
“I’m in” Sid says without hesitation.
“Fick, Vegas?”
“I’ll help you with the plan, but no guarantees,” Vegas says.
“Fick?”
“Go screw yourself! It’s just like you to rally the t
roops when it’s for your personal gain.” He looks to Sid and Vegas. “You’re so keen to help him look like a goddamn hero, but it’ll probably get you both killed.”
“Fick, listen to me,” I say. “Just hear the plan and then decide. I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”
“Did you just quote The Shawshank Redemption?”
“I know you love that movie.”
“Fine! I’ll hear your plan.”
“Yes! Well, I don’t have one yet, but I have some ideas.”
CHAPTER 11
ZOMBIES FOR SALE
“WHO DO WE have online, Jacobs?” Zook asks, chewing on the end of an unlit Cuban cigar.
“We have representatives from twenty-five allied nations, including Saudi Arabia, Israel, a few European countries and Russia. I know they’re not technically an ally, but considering your dealings in Russia, I figured you’d approve. They’re all waiting for the bidding to start.”
“Good work, and good call adding Russia. We know they have lots of money and a mutual interest. Our current president is too much of a pussy to make a ballsy call like this, but I’m not. Radical Islam will fall.”
“You’re a true patriot, sir,” Jacobs responds.
“I know. In fact, I’m probably the last real patriot in this country. I’m probably more of an American patriot than Abe Lincoln or Ronald Reagan. I’ll show them how a real man fixes things.”
“We’re ready to start the bidding, sir.”
“Good, put me on. Make sure you cloak my identity and change my voice.”
Jacobs launches the secure video feed with a blurred close-up of Zook, masking his identity. He signals a countdown, ‘3,2,1…’.
“Good afternoon. As you know, we have a biological agent that has the tremendous capability to take out an entire evil country in mere days. Like you, we’re interested in stamping out terror across the globe. America has been pussified to a point that they’re content with mass killings, bombings and shootings because our friends in Washington are too afraid of offending terrorists. Well, I stand before you as our forefathers did, standing against our government in the name of patriotism, and I am asking you, our friends, to stand up as well, to take our world back from fear. I have a solution to deal with terrorist cowards, but I need a partner who isn’t afraid to get a little blood on their hands. Someone who understands an iron fist is the best approach to a psychotic enemy, and someone who can keep this transaction confidential. Bidding starts at five billion dollars!”