The Longest Road (Book 2): The Change

by Thompson, A. S.

Jimmy paid no attention to the driver. His eyes were glued to his Hispanic princess.

  Wearing a silk, purple robe, Estrella made her way back to the front. She knew Jimmy loved her in this particular outfit.

  “What are you boys talking about?” she asked, straddling Jimmy's lap. She knew it was his favorite position.

  “Just figuring out which town to head to next, baby,” Jimmy answered, finally accepting a kiss from her. She had rinsed her mouth with Listerine.

  Estrella purred seductively in his ear and continued to grind on his crotch.

  “I don't know why we left that beach last night. We should go back and teach those putas a lesson.”

  Little by little, Jimmy gave into her seduction. “Maybe.”

  “Whatever you want to do, baby. But I'm just saying last night, the others were talking. Joking that you got punk'd by that white gimp.”

  “What? Who was talkin’ shit?” Jimmy tried to protest, but he was calmed by Estrella's hand on his groin.

  “It's nothing baby. They were just saying you should go back and teach them respect. You're Jimmy Sanchez. You lead Los Tres Demonios. Nobody messes with you, baby. Besides, morale is low. The men need food, supplies and women. We can go back there and take 'em easy. You know we can.”

  “Why don't you leave the decisions to the men? You don't know what you're talking about,” Tyler strongly recommended.

  “Fuck you, Tyler,” Estrella cursed, then went back to kissing and grabbing all over Jimmy's body.

  Jimmy smiled. “Now, now, let's play nice everyone.”

  Estrella glared at Tyler. Their resentment for one another was nothing new. Ever since the beginning, Estrella manipulated Jimmy to get whatever she wanted; cars, jewelry, clothes. If she asked nicely enough, and used her body like she knew how to, she could practically make up Jimmy's mind for him. That was until Tyler came onto the scene.

  Following an honorable discharge, Tyler used his skills to skyrocket Jimmy's drug and gun running operations in southern California. Business expanded and profits multiplied. Soon-after, Tyler was promoted to Jimmy's second in command and that is when he saw first-hand, Estrella's seduction powers.

  He hated the stupid decisions Jimmy made to appease her. At first, he did his best to shut his mouth around her, for fear of upsetting Jimmy, but over time he won Jimmy’s respect and ear.

  Tyler folded up the map and debated reason after reason why it was a bad idea.

  “We don't know how many people they run deep. We don't know what weapons they have. Their perimeter is guarded and after last night, they'll probably be expecting an attack. Want me to go on?”

  Estrella didn’t bother arguing with Tyler. Instead, she ended her argument in a way that she knew would win. A straight shot at Jimmy's ego. His Kryptonite.

  “All I'm sayin’ is you shouldn’t be disrespected like that, baby. You should make them pay. You should show them who Jimmy Sanchez really is.”

  Tyler tried to protest, but to no avail. He had lost to a pair of tits and a decent ass. Estrella took Jimmy’s hand and led him to their bedding in the back. She knew how to seal the deal. Wild, rough sex.

  “Tyler, tell Carlos and the others to turn around. We are heading back. We attack at night. They aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

  Vancouver, British Columbia

  November 27, 2009

  1630 hours

  When the minute hand on Diane's watch struck 4:30 PM, it triggered a preset alarm. The quiet beeping was enough to rouse her from the middle of a dream and good timing- she wasn't thrilled about being chased by hordes of infected.

  She turned off the alarm function and yawned.

  “Moment of truth,” she said, getting up to check on her test subjects.

  First, she walked to the locked room housing Laura Gonyea. On her way, Diane prayed that her calculations were successful. She was moments away from finding out if her theorized vaccine for the Trinity Virus would work. Whether the countless hours and lives lost studying and creating this formula were a means to an end, or if it was all in vein.

  “Stay positive, Di,” She whispered as she approached the lab’s glass window to obtain a visual of Laura.

  There were many physical attributes that Trinity displayed; most notably were dark, dilated pupils and violent, cannibalistic aggression. These signs and symptoms appeared in every infected person and offered a reliable pretest.

  Unfortunately, Diane couldn't obtain a visual.

  “Damnit. She must have turned off the lights to go to sleep.”

  The majority of the room was engulfed in pitch-black darkness. The only lighting from inside the room was faint blue rays cast from instruments and digital displays. The dimly lit sections offered, at most, a one-foot visibility range.

  Diane snapped open her expandable baton; she wasn't taking any chances. Using the end of the rod, she tapped on the glass in an attempt to get Laura's attention.

  No response.

  Diane repeated the act a second and third time but achieved the same result. So, she walked around to the entrance door and mentally prepared herself.

  Have faith. Laura is not going to be infected. Your vaccine will work. Just have faith.

  Diane unlocked the airtight seal and slowly pushed open the door. With her free hand, she clicked on a flashlight.

  “Hello? Laura?” Diane whispered, scanning the room with her light.

  Even though the labs on BSL-3 contained the same amenities, their layouts were slightly different. The wall along Diane’s right hand side housed a section of refrigeration and storage units followed by an elongated preparation table. To her left, the room opened and in the middle stood an island workstation.

  There was no sign of Laura directly ahead, so Diane timidly paced forward on the rubberized tiling. Her blind spots were now the immediate corner to her left and the area blocked by the twenty by ten foot rectangular island.

  Diane took a deep breath then jumped out around the corner. She expected to see Laura, but the research assistant wasn't there.

  “L-Laura,” Diane continued to whisper nervously.

  Still no response.

  Now, the left and far sides of the island were the only unknown areas.

  Diane swallowed and crept forward apprehensively. The peripheral lighting from her flashlight revealed the light switch on the wall to her left.

  Decision time,Diane thought.You only have two hands, and you sure as hell aren’t letting go of the baton. So what’s it going to be? Go for the switch, or keep going with the flashlight. Flashlight.

  Diane's stomach turned. She wasn't sure what to expect. She had called out multiple times but received no response.

  She could be in a deep sleep? After all, it took an alarm to wake you up,she thought.

  Diane wanted to hope for the best. She needed to believe in herself and her work, but the devil on her shoulder whispered notions of doubt and failure.

  Slowly, Diane moved forward, hugging the left wall. “Laura, where are y-”

  Then, at the end of the island, a foot pulled back out of view.

  Quickly and keeping her eyes and light forward, Diane used the fingers on her baton hand and flicked the light switch upward. Within seconds, the ceiling lights fully illuminated the room.

  Diane clicked off her light and set it on the island.

  “L-Laura. It's me. Diane.”

  This time, Diane heard a mumble, like someone who was sleep talking. Following the incoherent words was a rustle of clothing. Then, Laura Gonyea rose, back facing Diane.

  “Laura, it's me, Diane. Can you turn around, please?”

  It sounded as though Laura replied "yeah", so Diane sighed, momentarily relieved. She knew that infected people were unable to communicate. At most, they released guttural sounds and howls. And unfortunately, that was the sound Laura actually produced. What Diane mistook for a "yeah" was a low growl; the same quick growl an angry dog gives before barking.

  In a flash, Laura's bo
dy pivoted around and Diane observed the reality of Laura's condition.

  The research assistant’s eyes bore the trademarks of infection. Her teeth snarled, fingers tightened up like claws and her body spasmed. Despite being administered the vaccine, the French-Canadian research assistant had succumbed to the infection.

  Then, like a feral animal, Laura released a gargled howl and charged Diane.

  With a two-handed grip, Diane swung her baton. The impact of the metal rod cracked Laura's skull and drove her body into the glass paneling. Laura’s body bounced off the glass, and then collapsed on all fours.

  The initial blow had not been forceful enough, so Diane delivered one more strike to the woman’s left temple. The second blow proved sufficient, sending Laura spinning to the ground. Bits of bone and brain matter rocketed away from her skull like shrapnel, and blood splattered across the rubber flooring and glass paneling.

  Laura Gonyea was dead for good.

  Diane backpedaled away from the contaminated blood, all the way to the refrigeration and storage units. There, she slumped to the ground, devastated. Her hands trembled so much that she dropped the baton. The metal rod thumped three times on the squishy flooring before settling down.

  It wasn't the killing of infected that Diane had a problem. It was her psyche. She was so convinced that her vaccine would work. Now, a thousand questions surfaced amidst the self-doubt.

  Did the formula simply not work?

  You prepared it exactly how you should have, right?

  You can test Laura's blood, but what's the point?

  Did it destroy her immune system and further accelerate the changing process?

  That's it. You probably killed her faster!

  Alex...did I kill Alex, too?

  After the last thought, Diane snatched up her baton and flashlight and sprinted down the hallway to the next laboratory. Alex had been kept in a separate lab located on the opposite side of the hallway. The lights, too, were off in his room, but Diane didn't waste any time tapping on the glass or calling out- she needed to see.

  On the panel to the right of the door, Diane pressed a button and released the airlock. She pushed open the door and clicked on her flashlight; her baton rested readily on her right shoulder.

  The setup of the room mirrored the one Laura was quarantined in but flipped. The same refrigeration units were now on Diane’s left and the island to her right. The pathway directly ahead of her was clear, so she turned the corner. As she did, she jumped back, nearly breaking the digital displays on the refrigeration units.

  On the ground in front of her, back up against the glass paneling, sat Alex. His body was curled in a seated fetal position; legs pulled to his stomach and head tucked into his chest. His Angels baseball hat was pulled down covering his eyes.

  “A-Alex,” Diane mumbled. “It's me, Diane.”

  Alex's body twitched and he mumbled something, but Diane couldn't understand it. She convinced herself of the worst.

  Maybe he got bit by Freiderik, too! And the vaccine accelerated it!

  She might not have injected the vaccine into Alex’s arm, but it was her product.

  Your stupid, pointless vaccine killed Alex!

  Suddenly, Alex's body twitched again, this time so violently that it stirred him to consciousness. He mumbled another string of incoherent words.

  “I'm so sorry, Alex,” she said, eyes filling up with tears. She raised her baton and swung at Alex's head.

  At the last second, Alex's eyes widened. He managed to duck a hair’s width under the metal rod. He rolled to his right and came to a kneeling position then yelled, “What the fuck!”

  Diane gasped, cupping her hands against her mouth. “A-Alex? You're alive?”

  The baton and flashlight thumped on the ground.

  “Last time I checked,” he replied, rising to his feet. The surge of adrenaline caused Alex's heart rate and respiration to skyrocket. “You gonna tell me why you tried to play Whack-A-Mole with my head?”

  Diane flipped on the lights. She stared at him and was so happy to see his uninfected face that she rushed over and hugged the breath out of him.

  “You didn't change,” she said, tears pouring from her eyes. She pulled back and wiped her cheeks. “Laura didn't make it. The way you were twitching...I thought maybe you got bit, too!”

  “Nope, very much did not get bit,” Alex said, standing. “But I think I need to change my shorts. Fuckin-A, now I know how Dr. Bauer felt when I almost killed him.”

  Diane wasn’t paying attention to Alex; she was too busy speaking to herself.

  “I was so sure the trial would work. She was the perfect candidate, freshly infected; my vaccine should have countered the virus. I don't know why it didn't.”

  Alex spun his hat around backwards.

  “I don't mean to be a dick, but maybe there just is no cure,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Maybe this thing is the start of the Apocalypse or something? I mean dead coming back to life and all that shit.”

  Diane gave him a stern look.

  “Hey, don't look at me like that. I think I'm entitled to a glass-half-empty opinion. After all, you just almost kill me.”

  Diane backed up to the wall and ran frustrated hands through her hair. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Alex picked up the flashlight and baton and set them on the island. “So what's next, Doc?”

  Diane sighed. “Honestly? I don't know. I suppose I’ll check Laura’s blood, but I think all that's left is to test your blood against infected blood and see how it reacts…”

  “Whoa, no way. I just stuck myself with your experiment and dodged death. I think I'm going to enjoy living for a little while…”

  “No, Alex. I mean samples of your blood. I have to see how your blood will react to Trinity, but after seeing Laura, I’m certain that it will succumb to infection. I’m guessing that your immune system didn’t take to the vaccine. I think my theory is dead in the water…”

  Before she could continue, a call came through on the radio.

  “Diane! It's Eddy. Come in, over!”

  Diane unclipped the radio from her belt, and then held down the talk button. “I'm here, what's up, Teddy?”

  “You need to get up here quick!”

  “What is it?”

  “That reporter, Ricky, and a few others got past Dylan and made a break for it. I'll meet you at the bottom floor.”

  “Coming up now,” Diane replied, ending the communication. She signaled to the door and said, “Let's get going.”

  Outside of the lab, Alex unsheathed his machete and gave the blade a quick twirl.

  Diane looked over at him confused. “Are you crazy? Alex, you can't kill Ricky.”

  “What?” Alex replied, surprised. “I'm not going to kill him. I mean, don't get me wrong, when we catch up to him I'm going to give him the biggest beat down ever…”

  “Then what's with the machete?”

  “You wanna get back down here, don't you?” he asked.

  Diane nodded, although still confused.

  Alex detoured over to the body of Dr. Freiderik Bauer.

  “Then we need the good doctor here to give us a hand,” he said, smiling at his morbid joke. “Get it? We need his hand to use on the fingerprint machine thing.”

  Diane shook her head. “You know, part of me was almost happy to be rid of your jokes.”

  “Ah, come on, Doc,” Alex said, chopping through the Freiderik’s dead wrist. “Why do you say such hurtful things?”

  1702 hours

  When the elevator arrived at the ground floor, Eddy was already there, waiting. Together, Diane, Eddy and Alex followed the circular contour of the building, moving with a sense of urgency.

  “Who bailed? And how’d they get the jump on Dylan? That guy is like the Jolly-Green Canadian Giant,” Alex said.

  “Ricky, Isla, Eliana and that guy, Saul,” Eddy replied. “Charlie told me they cold clocked him.”

  “If they signal the infected o
utside, we can kiss all our asses goodbye.”

  Suddenly, they came to a skidding halt as their worst fears came to fruition- the main entrance doors on the west side were giving in. They heard parts of the glass crack and shatter. Piled up furniture was all that stood between them and the thousands of undead outside.

  Diane followed Eddy and Alex back to the entrance.

  The construction foreman quickly threw his weight into a conference room desk. The furniture blocked any advance, but Eddy knew it was a matter of time.

  “Screw Ricky and the others. We gotta go now!”

  “How can this day possibly get any worse?”

  “For starters, these zombs could burst through right now and we could get torn to shreds,” Alex suggested, moving to help Eddy apply adverse pressure.

  Diane glared at him.

  “Sarcasm, right. I'll work on it.”

  “My notes!” Diane remembered. “Can you guys give me five minutes?”

  Eddy's expression of arched eyebrows and wide eyes said it all. “Just us two? Forget about it.”

  “Make that four,” Charlie said, running over with Dylan at his side. Both men helped Eddy and Alex push against the giant wooden table. “We'll hold it as long as we can. Go now!”

  Without hesitation, Dr. Phillips took off in a full sprint to the northern elevators.

  1709 hours

  Beads of sweat turned into streams, and their faces displayed the physical exhaustion that their bodies were enduring. Eddy, Alex, Charlie and Dylan planted their feet and put every ounce of strength into keeping the infected from pouring into the World Health Organization. But it seemed as though every second they were losing an inch. Diane had been gone for the five minutes she asked for but was nowhere to be found.

  “We can't hold on much longer,” Eddy started to say. Then, his sweaty palms caused him to slip and his arm to scrape along the corner of the metal desk; blood trickled from the three-inch wound. He cursed the accident but finished his thought, “My tank’s on empty.”

  Both Canadian security guards nodded in agreement; they didn't want to expel the energy verbalizing so. Their legs began to tremble and their faces were beet red from overexertion.