Z Towers: An Apocalyptic Plague (Made in the U.S.A.)

by Jay Zano

  I make my way over to the landline phone on the desk. I pull the phone number Jeffords gave me from my pocket, dial it and listen to it ring.

  “Channel Two News, this is Mark,” says a voice on the other end.

  “Mark, my name is Tyson,” I say, “and I’m about to win you the Pulitzer.”

  “Buddy, if you knew how many times I’ve heard that!” replies Mark, but I can tell he’s smiling.

  “I’m calling you from inside Zook Towers.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “I’m not kidding. Here’s the deal; I’m going to give you a website to check out. We’ll provide you live video feed of what’s going on in here.”

  “What is going on?” Mark asks. “The reports we have coming in say there may be some type of terrorist attack, but our access has been completely blocked by the military.”

  “‘Terrorist attack’? More like the end of the world! You ready for the site? We go live in five!”

  “Okay, go!”

  “W-W-W dot, you bet yo’ ass dot th That’s ‘yo’, Y-O.”

  “You serious?”

  “Hey man, that’s what we have to work with! That’s all for now.”

  I hang up and start getting ready. Fickle finishes taping his phone to his chest and makes his way over to Sid, who is now working to get the Surface Pro up and running with the video feed.

  “Sid,” says Fickle, “you alright, man? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine!” he responds, as he continues to work on the Surface Pro.

  “You don’t look fine; you’re sweating like a pig!”

  I don’t typically agree with Fick, but he’s right. Sid looks like he’s suddenly come down with the flu. I start to make my way over.

  “I feel fine!” he protests. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m the only one working, here! ‘Sid, get the dark fiber up’, ‘Sid, get the Surface to pull the building cameras’, ‘Sid, get the cameras on the phone to live feed to Johnny’s website’! Do you have any damn clue how difficult all this is?”

  “Okay, okay, relax!” Fick responds. “Sorry!”

  “Oh, and you taped your phone on backwards, you dumbass,” Sid growls. “You had one thing to do, and you did it wrong!”

  Fick looks down, confirming that he has indeed taped his phone on with the wrong side facing out.

  “Shit!”

  “iPhone users,” Sid sneers.

  CHAPTER 18

  ZOE’S PERSPECTIVE

  I SIT ALL ALONE in my room, paging through the endless camera views on the main screen while keeping one eye on the second screen, which shows the server room doors. There are streams of zombies on every floor, and in the stairwell. It’s a suicide mission to try and reach me, but then we’re all going to die anyway, so I guess it’s better to die trying to do something than to die just waiting. There isn’t much I can do to help, though. Out of all the floors with zombies, I have the biggest concentration of them, apart from the lobby. Hell, I have thirty outside my door. What a helpless feeling. I’m trained for this, I should be leading this, but instead I’m the damsel in distress. Shit! I have a man trying to save me. A nice guy who, more than likely, has no idea how to survive. Does he even have a weapon? I have plenty of firepower in my gun cabinet, but with only one finger to pull the trigger, I can’t get out of here on my own. I’m smart enough to know that, so all I can do at this point is sit and wait.

  “Screw this!” I exclaim, then jump up and throw open the cabinet. Every weapon I can carry, I strap to myself. I pull out a backpack, completely emptying the gun cabinet, stocking up with extra guns and ammo. I take one look back at the screen to see Tyson’s note, ‘See you soon’.

  “Not if I see you first!”

  I open the door slowly, stick the end of my machine gun with attached grenade launcher out and shoot a grenade to the center of the suite. The machine gun goes in my backpack, and I pull out twin handguns. The grenade explodes, and I throw the door open, running out to land head shot after head shot on the disoriented zombies.

  CHAPTER 19

  MARK FIELDS

  MARK IS RUNNING through the halls of the newsroom, making his way to the production floor where they’re currently live, broadcasting from the desk. He flies through, ignoring the ‘On air’ notifications, and makes his way to the floor producer. “Mark, what are you doing in here?” Jackie whispers aggressively.

  “I have a lead.”

  “We’re on the air!”

  “I have a contact from inside Zook Towers!”

  A dumbfounded look overtakes Jackie’s face.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, dead serious.”

  “Well, give me the info!”

  “Not only do I have a contact, I have a live feed from the inside of Zook Towers.”

  “Give me the details and we’ll get it on air.”

  “Hell no! So you can give it to Trent Peterson, the hack? No, this is how it’s going to work. You’re going to give me a cameraman and a feed. I’ll deliver the exclusive and breaking news from the comm room. We need to start in three minutes!”

  He turns and walks away, but Jackie calls, “Mark, wait!”

  “Three minutes, Jackie! Three minutes!” he calls over his shoulder, not breaking stride.

  “Shit!” Jackie exclaims. She presses her mic button, activating her headset. “Listen up, send a cameraman to meet Mark Fields in comms. We go live from that location in three minutes.”

  Mark throws the comms room door open at a frenzied pace and starts blurting out commands.

  “Sally, I need to set up a PC with a live feed.”

  Sally responds, “What for?”

  “Just do it!” he orders, then quickly calms down. “Okay, I’m sorry for my tone. Can you please do it? Pretty please, with sugar on top?”

  “You’re good to go, right there,” she replies, pointing to the computer screen behind him.

  “Thank you, Sally,” Mark says, bringing up a browser on the computer screen. Sally walks over to take a peek at the screen. “‘You bet yo’ ass dot th? What kind of story are you running, here?”

  Mark tilts his head slightly, saying, “Sally, please stop chomping your gum in my ear and get the hell back!”

  “Okay, okay, I just want to make sure you’re not pulling up a porn site or something. It’s my ass on the line with this equipment.”

  “Sally! Will you kindly shut the f—”

  Just then, the cameraman walks in.

  “Good, Jason! Perfect. We’re shooting right here. On me in sixty seconds!” Mark puts in his earpiece and quickly fixes his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Sally, be ready to switch the channel to the computer on my signal.”

  The light attached to the video camera flicks on, and Jackie’s voice comes over the earpiece.

  “Mark, you’re on in five, four, three, two…”

  “Good afternoon, this is Mark Fields, coming to you live from the broadcast room of Channel Two News. As most of you know, we’ve been following the unfolding events at Zook Towers, but like you, we’ve been kept in the dark as to the exact nature of this ongoing crisis. That is, until now. I have gained exclusive access to a source who claims that this is not the kind of terrorist event with which we are so sadly familiar, but rather a cover-up orchestrated by a very powerful man.”

  Jason pulls his face away from the camera and Sally’s jaw drops so low that the gum falls out of her mouth.

  “Why should we believe this?” Mark continues. “Well, this information doesn’t come from the military, and it’s not from our local police or the FBI. It’s a gentleman by the name of Tyson Wilson who, in about ten seconds, will be broadcasting live from right inside Zook Towers.” Elsewhere, every bar, household and competing news agency is locked onto their TV sets, watching Mark Fields break the story of the century. “So, any second you’ll get a firsthand account of exactly what’s going on inside.”

  All is completely silent as
the camera pans over a nervous Mark Fields.

  “Mark,” Jackie barks in his ear, “the feed better come up in three seconds, or this will be the biggest screw-up since Geraldo Rivera opened up Al Capone’s vault!”

  The sweat trickles down Mark’s face, just as the screen flickers on the PC. He quickly points to Sally, cuing her to make the switch.

  “This is Mark Fields, giving you a first-person view of exactly what’s happening.” The video feed loads, and the country sees me, standing in front of the server rack.

  “Hello, this is Tyson Wilson. I am broadcasting from the fiftieth floor of Zombie Towers. That’s right, I said ‘Zombie Towers’, because this whole building is crawling with zombies. Just six hours ago, they were our coworkers, our friends. I’m joined by a few courageous survivors: Sid, who is behind the camera right now, Fickle and Vegas…” Johnny and Fickle lean in to the camera view, waving awkwardly. “We also have Matt with us…”

  Matt jumps into the background and screams, “Fuck her in the pussy!”

  I turn around, shocked, and shout, “Dude!” Shaking my head, I turn back to the camera. “Uh, sorry about that. So, the reason we’re in this mess is because of Mr. Zook and his quest for world domination. He thought he could keep the fact that his biological weapon failed a secret, by releasing it in his own building and killing off everyone who knew about it. Well, he miscalculated, and he grossly underestimated us. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll have all our cameras streaming from this website as we navigate our way out of the building, giving your viewers a firsthand perspective of what we’re seeing. It serves partly for you to bear witness, but it also serves for our protection. See, we have it on good authority that Zook isn’t the only one who wants this hushed up. Our military, meant to protect us as Americans, also have an interest in our silence. With the help of my good friend Sid, enjoy the show.”

  Sid changes the layout of the webpage from a single video stream to five separate videos, each shot by a different person’s phone. Below each video is that person’s name.

  Safely ensconced in his estate, Fredrick J. Zook sits in his recliner, watching the broadcast about his biological weapon unfold in front of a world audience. His mood shifts from confusion to anger, from anger to terror.

  After absorbing the news report, he mumbles, “This can’t be happening.” Throwing himself out of his chair and into the study, he screams, “Jacobs!”

  Back in the broadcast room, Mark is once more the camera’s focus.

  “For those just joining, this is Mark Fields from Channel Two News bringing you a live feed from inside Zook Towers or, as the hero inside put it, ‘Zombie Towers’. We’re going to continue to broadcast as long as possible, but be warned: due to the potentially graphic nature of what you may see, viewer discretion is advised.”

  The channel switches back to the video feeds, which now show the live feed from our cameras.

  The light goes off on the camera, and Jason says to Mark, “Brilliant, man, this is brilliant.”

  Jackie speaks over his earpiece, “Wow! That was so freaking intense! Great work!”

  Mark lowers the mic, pulls out his earpiece and smiles.

  CHAPTER 20

  TIME TO MOVE

  “ALRIGHT MEN, EVERYONE understand the plan? We move out in five minutes,” I say. I get an acknowledgment from everyone except Fick, who has his head down. “You good, Fick?”

  He looks up, blinking, and says, “Hey, Tyson, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure, man. What’s on your mind?”

  “Um, can I talk to you in private?”

  At this point, none of us are really conscious of the live video streams strapped to our chests, broadcasting to Channel Two News. We’re high on adrenaline, and our minds are elsewhere, wondering what dangers await us, and if we’ll ever see freedom again. Fickle and I walk over to the far corner of the server room.

  “What’s up, Fick?”

  “I just… I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “Do what, man?”

  “I just don’t think I have what it takes to kill them… Every time I close my eyes, I see Betty and that look in her eyes. I don’t think I can get past that. I feel like I might freeze up out there. I don’t want to let you down, but I’m scared shitless.”

  Fickle hangs his head in shame.

  “Hey, man,” I reply. “First, there’s no shame in not wanting to kill someone, but the people out there are no longer the people you know. Those people are already dead. In their place are zombies that want to chew your face off. It’s kill or be killed.”

  “I know, I know! But—”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to be in charge of video surveillance. Your only job is to keep close and keep an eye on those cameras so we know what’s ahead of us. You don’t have to kill anyone.”

  A look of relief overwhelms Fick’s face. He wipes his eyes and nose in an attempt to compose himself.

  “You good now, man?” I ask.

  “Thanks so much, Tyson. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t, man. We’re in this together.”

  “Hey, Ty, one more thing? I’m concerned about Sid. He doesn’t look very good.”

  I glance over at Sid; he’s sweating profusely and taking short, shallow breaths.

  “Yeah,” I admit, “he’s getting worse.”

  “You know, I wasn’t joking,” he whispers. “I watched him rape Susie in the break room. Her scarf was sucked into the shredder and he just started hammering her!”

  “Geez man, that’s disturbing as shit.”

  “What’s worse, I think he has some mutated STD! I mean, look at him. He looks like he’s going to die.”

  “Good point, man. I’ll talk to him and see what’s up. You’ll keep your eyes on those cameras?”

  “Okay, Tyson.”

  As Fickle walks away, I focus my attention on Sid. He looks like death, and he’s starting to sound that way, too.

  “Sid, can you come over here for a sec?” I ask. Sid stands up and runs over.

  “What’s up, Tyson?”

  “You feeling okay, man?”

  “To tell you the truth, I feel like shit.”

  “Well, you look like death! You in pain or anything?”

  Sid pauses for a sec, looks back up and says, “Well, now that you mention it, I do feel like something is wrong.”

  “Okay, want to talk about it?”

  “Well, let me show you,” Sid says, unzipping his pants and pulling open his underwear to show me his crotch.

  “Woah!” I gasp. “What are you doing? I don’t want to see that thing!”

  I really don’t want to see it, but I also can’t look away. It’s like coming across a horrific crash with mangled bodies. You try to look away, but human nature compels you to stare. His dick is a shriveled mess; it looks like it has gangrene. It also has a slight stench, which causes me to take a step back.

  “It was okay this morning, but now it looks like this.”

  “First, close that shit up, I’m about to vomit! Second, can you think of anything you may have done from the time you got dressed until now that may have caused that?”

  “Nothing that I can think of!”

  “Nothing?” I respond.

  “Well, I did have sex with Susie in the break room. You think she gave me syphilis or something?”

  “Dude, I’m pretty sure she gave you something, and I’m pretty sure Susie was long gone and you actually had sex with a zombie!”

  “It just itches!” he says defensively, looking down at his deformed, discolored penis. He zips up his pants and walks away, leaving me to reflect that I just killed a couple of zombies in the worst way possible, and his dick is still the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen.

  Walking back to the group, I say, “Okay, everyone, listen up! Just like Call of Duty but in real life, Matt’s got point. Matt, that means you are in the front.”

  “Got it!”


  “I have left flank, Vegas has right flank and Fickle is bringing up the rear as our eyes in the sky. Let’s roll!”

  We all line up in position, in front of the server room door. Our first goal is to get to Zook’s elevator and make our way to the seventy-fourth floor, where there seems to be less zombies.

  Matt slams his last beer, crushes the can on his forehead, takes a peek out of the peephole, throws the door open and says, “Time to go hunting, boys!”

  *

  Thailand

  A skinny, rough-looking Asian fellow wakes groggily, surrounded by empty booze bottles and pizza boxes. As he sits up from the couch, a woman with severe bedhead pops up to join him. The lids of her eyes are heavy from her hangover as she slides a joint into his mouth and lights it up.

  “Morning, baby!” he says mumbled by the joint between his lips. She mouths his ear as he exhales, grabs the joint from him and lays back down out of sight. Smiling, he searches the coffee table for his glasses, knocking down beer cans and chip bags in the process. He finds them, puts them on, reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out his cell phone. It takes him a moment, wiping the sleep from his eyes, to really understand the message before him, but then he jumps up, knocking the woman’s head from his lap.

  “What the hell?” she shouts in confusion.

  “Get out!” he orders, staring at the screen.

  “What?”

  “I said get the hell out!”

  She stands up, only wearing her panties, and screams, “You’re an asshole!”

  He ignores her frantic efforts to pick up her clothes and walks into the other room, slamming the door. She dresses quickly, throws him the finger and walks out.

  “Shit, Vegas!” he mutters. “Are you serious?”

  He fires up his computer, quickly types on the keyboard and pulls up youbetyoass.th There, he sees multiple camera views of Vegas and four other guys slowly walking around an office hallway, all armed with crazy weapons.

  “Damn, Vegas! Is this real? Okay, okay, how can I spin this?” He thinks for a second and then looks up. “I got it!” He starts banging away at the keyboard. “This is going to be intense!” He types for a few more moments then sits back in his chair with his hands over his head. “Okay, everyone, welcome to the Z Towers survival game, where the odds are not in your favor! Betting is now live.” He slowly reaches his hand over his computer mouse, slides the cursor over to ‘send all’, raises his index finger and slams it down on the button. Only a few seconds go by before the buy-ins start piling up. Hundreds turn to thousands, turn to tens of thousands.