I hear the handle on the hatch turn and duck behind some bushes. Two men get out of the hatch and inspect the electrical cable I cut. Some of my men take them and I head down the hatch. It’s a long ladder I go down, and it takes some time.
When I get to the bottom I see a fairly large room with 5 people in it. One woman I know immediately. It’s Linda Ann Blake, the woman who tried to drill through my head back in Leesburg. The one who stripped the skin off the red haired woman. The rest are military types. They see me but don’t move. They just look and return to there business while Linda Ann motions me over to them.
“Hello Mr. Madden we’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?” She smiles at me.
As I move closer I see. She and the others are obviously infected and have been for some time.
15
Enemy Of My Enemy...
Maneuvering with an army is advantageous; with an undisciplined multitude, most dangerous.
-Sun Tsu
I look into Linda Ann Blake’s eyes and can’t control myself.
“I know you, you tortured my people!” I shout. “I remember! You were going to torture me as well!”
“Mr. Madden, you were the enemy.” She answered firmly. “You have no idea how the world reacted when the dead began to rise! You were evidently infected fairly early. The population of the world that was not, was terrified, we were hysterical! Everyone began to believe the 2012 prophets. It was rampant”
“But you did this!” I am screaming now.
“Me?! Don’t you mean we? You were a large part of this whole fiasco Mr. Madden. You can’t tell me you never thought this would be used as a weapon. Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? These men tell me you were a very willing participant until the very end. In fact, it was probably you and your cohort Abbott’s idea to try and launch Wrath to coincide with 2012!” The video file! The other two were on the tape Maslow showed me on the boat. The big one is the General on the video!
“Never asking questions, only working for that almighty dollar.” She lectures. “Bonuses for continued contracts and performance. You never questioned anything did you? And you didn’t quit the project, you were removed. You would have done whatever we said to keep that big house and those cars and all of your possessions. You were a huge part of all of this. You created Wrath whether you want to admit it or not! You!!! And when you were brought into my hospital, I knew I had to get rid of you because you were trouble, Mr. Madden, and I wanted to live. I wanted my family to live! Because of you and others like you all of us in this room and all of our loved ones are infected.”
It was all true. I had tried to deny much of it, but she was right. I had sold my soul for my career and my stuff. I remember joking in meetings that if this was used as a weapon it would be that much more effective if it happened in 2012. I never thought about consequences, only about money and things. I would comfort myself by thinking I was doing this for the defense of my country, for freedom itself. That did help me sleep. But none of that matters. This whole thing can be traced back to me. I did this. I am guilty.
“I win, Mr. Madden.” Blake says coldly. “It’s just what I do. Now we are on the same team, so to speak. And we have a common foe. A Dimitri Maslow I believe. We want him as bad as you do. He created an antiviral for the Northern Alliance that turned the infected against each other and protected the uninfected from getting sick. Eraser he called it.”
I held my tongue. I can’t let them know I created that as well. They all have guns and would kill me where I stand.
“We used it on dogs and sent them out to attack the infected and pass on the Eraser.” She continues. “It worked for a while and the dogs, as well as some of our test animals, did not become infected even after weeks. We didn’t really trust Maslow, but it looked like he had made good. But then the animals started to die. And turn... we didn’t find out until many of us in the inner circle had been vaccinated. It seems that Maslow, or his spies, contaminated the Eraser stores with Wrath. We know all about Wrath, Mr. Madden. Don’t these men look familiar? You used to work for them, but maybe you never met.”
They did, and we had met. I knew two of them and the other two looked very familiar. But where did Maslow get Wrath?
“They tried to stop you and end the program. But they were unsuccessful. In any event, we all became contaminated, and turned. We are V-RAFs and live the part well.” She is smiling now.
“How did you know I was coming? How could you know?” I ask.
“Mr. Madden you still have the tracker in your arm they put in at the Leesburg ICC.”
I had forgotten about it.
“It contains your name, driver’s license number, Social Security Number, whatever else you had on you when captured. You were marked unique at the camp.” She continues methodically. “It doesn’t track over long distances, but when we got in this area we picked you up. And we waited. The lights outside worked, and you came.” She couldn’t have been more smug.
I felt a little stupid, but was more curious than anything.
“I want to kill him. Maslow. Where is he?” I say.
“We want to kill him, as well. So does the Northern Alliance, for that matter. They are done with him. He is a traitor, and he is out of control. We created him to infiltrate the undead and initiate a way to defeat them. We set him up in New York and gave him whatever he said he needed. We were desperate. There were many Maslows that had ideas, from dirty bombs to antiviral mosquitoes, and we supported them as well. Even small-timers like Charles Darius, remember him? Your coworker? He tried to trap you but his men were overrun. Only Maslow showed results... He and that bastard Stout. They proved they could control V-RAFs, make them docile. He showed results, but was one sick son of a bitch. He had no trouble eating people, he...”
“That’s because he is DEAD!!!” I scream.
“Calm down, Mr. Madden we know that.” She says. “He ate people before we infected him, and believed he could act the part. We let him fall asleep one night and injected him with insulin to induce a coma. We then infected him with Wrath and bonded adrenaline to his DNA to keep him intelligent, as you evidently did to yourself as well. He woke up dead but either didn’t notice or preferred denial. He went about his mission and that was that. But yes, he is quite dead. It turns out he likes to play both sides, and as you probably know, is quite insane. He is in Bermuda; we are 90% sure of this. We have a tracker on him as well and that is where he was heading when we last had contact.”
I had heard chatter on the Alliance radios that there were islands in the Caribbean that had not been infected. One was Bermuda. They were full of Healthies. What the Hell could he be doing there? Another Manhattan?
“But make no mistake, Madden, we are not your friends. We see ourselves as trying to rid the world of the V-RAF plague and protect the many innocent people that have not been infected. We have adrenalinized DNA and are ready to kill Maslow, but not for the same reason as you. We will promise that, until we have killed Dimitri Maslow, we will not harm you or your people. And after we are finished, we will go our separate ways. But then it is back to normalcy. We will be trying to kill you again, and save our planet. My question to you, Mr. Madden, is--are you with us?”
“Yes.” I said without hesitation. I want Maslow dead no matter what.
We needed a plan. Everyone in the room knew that Maslow was dangerous and would be defending his area.
“What is your situation?” I ask. “How many troops do you have?”
Cautiously she says. “We have about 500 troops. All infected, none anywhere near as intelligent as the 6 of us in this room. We can also call in strikes by certain wings of the Northern Alliance. Many don’t know General Spicer is infected. You have, how many, about a hundred?”
“There are about a hundred up there now that will follow me, yes. And we can pick up more on the way to the docks. We are going by ship, correct?” I ask.
“Yes Mr. Madden. We have transport and I
bet you have ideas of your own.” She says sternly.
“Yes I do, there is a medium-size cruise ship heading out of New York taking wealthy survivors and supplies to the uninfected islands in the Caribbean. I heard it on my radio. We will sneak aboard the ship and take control of it once it is at sea. There will be plenty of food, rich Healthies, for our trip. We can even infect some, building an army as we sail. Before you know it a ship full of Deads will be docking in Bermuda ready to take over. Ready to eat. Ready to fight. I think we need to take separate ships because our styles differ. I hope you don’t intend on stopping my plan.”
She thinks about it. “No Mr. Madden, I know the ship. The lives of a few elite people who use the military as a safety net don’t concern me. I will even have the soldiers stand down and not board the ship to help you out. The lives we will save by killing Maslow will be 200 times those on your floatable feast. Just keep in contact and take Mr. Bogle here with you. He is a Navy man and can run the ship for you. We will keep in contact by radio. Once near Bermuda we can check for radar and listen to chatter to access what defenses they may have. Then we will plan to hit the beach and begin the assault. Together we have a chance. Maslow has surely organized splinters of the Northern Alliance and is using the island as a fort. It will be a challenge, but we will win. Because I win, Mr. Madden, as you will find out. After we defeat Maslow, you take your ship and we will take ours. We will not look for you for a month, you have my word. Then all bets are off. How does that sound?”
She said that with the precision of someone who had planned it before today. I don’t trust her at all. I don’t trust the General or the others. They are infected but not one of us. They truly see themselves as infected human beings and feel the need to save the world, or what’s left of it. I think for a while and decide to go ahead and do it. I want Maslow dead at any cost. It is all I think about. It rules my life. I hate him to the bones beneath his dead flesh...
“Deal.” I growl. “Let’s get going...”
16
Rat Hunt...
Anyone can be a fisherman in May.
-Ernest Hemmingway
Mr. Bogle was distant. He stared the “thousand mile stare” constantly. I asked Ms. Blake and she assured me he was a competent Ship’s Captain having sailed to Japan many times with the Military Sealift Command. We loaded up with ammunition and supplies and headed back into the city as a group.
“We fire on anyone that gets in our way, Mr. Madden. Alive or dead, there is no use trying to spare anyone.” She likes to seem tough.
“I wasn’t going to try and spare anyone.” I reply.
We walk a long time and make it into the city. Not much resistance, a lot of infected though. A lot of soldiers are dead or have been infected. The most intelligent of us not in uniform take the clothes off dead soldiers and put them on. The infected ones fall in line as we walk by. I think the dead have a need to belong, just like Healthies only out of confusion more than fear. They don’t know what to do, where to go, who they are... they just drift along with a group as it goes by. They need an alpha and again, to the untrained eye, it would seem that they are just aimlessly walking.
We reach the docks with about 400 more folks making our total somewhere near 1000. Half will go with Blake. Half will go with me.
“This is where we split up, Madden. Remember, if you try and take the ship and run, I will sink you. Without hesitation.” Blake smiles and says. She is serious.
“I want him dead, Blake. I assure you.” With that she takes her team to the right, while I go left toward the big white ship with all the lights.
No doubt it will be heavily guarded, so we watch and wait. I don’t trust Blake to have them stand down. We wait for about an hour as the ship fills up with Healthies. They are very confident and don’t look scared at all. The Northern Alliance guards the entire ship, shooting the few infected that wander to close. Not just with rifles, either. They are using high caliber machine guns to blow them apart, no doubt as a show of strength to the rich Healthies boarding the ship.
There are guards on the dock, and on the ship itself. I have already picked out the most intelligent of the group, about 20 of us. The rest pick up the scent of Healthies and head toward the docked ship. All 500 or so. Shots ring out, and people scream. The remaining 20 of us dressed like Northern Alliance soldiers come up behind the pack firing and in the chaos, are taken for Healthies. We run up one of the gangways and get on board.
We follow Mr. Bogle to the helm, shooting anyone that gets in our way. Most all the soldiers have stood down like Blake said. We don’t see any at all. Amazing. We arrive and there are no guards at the door. So I knock. One of the helmsmen opens the door and we are on him and the rest in seconds. They don’t even have time to scream.
We eat most of them but turn some, including the Captain. Mr. Bogle gets to work. He begins to move the ship, full of Healthies, away from the dock. He hands me the PA microphone and says “Talk calmly and confidently. Make them feel safe”.
I get it.
“This is Captain...” I pause and look at the Captains name pin. “Beasly. Ladies and gentlemen the hoard of Deads has been struck back and our Northern Alliance was successful. Some of our boys were pretty badly injured, so don’t stare, it could have been any one of us. Just relax now and enjoy this cruise to the safety of the uninfected Caribbean. Look at that sunrise!”
I was pretty good. Mr. Bogle is smiling.
Since we are dressed like soldiers maybe the passengers will think we are just injured. Maybe not, but here’s hoping.
Five of us remain at the helm and the rest are sent out to hunt discreetly until nightfall when we will attack full force and make ourselves some allies. Radio contact with Ms. Blake is made and we see her ship in the distance. We move in to follow.
Looking out on the open water, I take some time to reflect. The real answers may actually come when I find Maslow. But what will they be? Is there anything that I don’t know now? I have been putting together answers and have been told almost all there seems to be. Am I still looking for answers, or am I just out to kill Maslow? And when I do, then what? Killing that bastard had been my reason for living for so long. What will I do after that, with no purpose, no raison d’être? Will I walk the earth for no real reason and eventually turn into a mindless staggering Dead?
There has to be more to the story.
Was this all to cleanse the world perhaps, and make the wealthy and powerful even more so? This ship is pretty full of wealthy people that look to have been protected almost as if they were paying for it.
There has to be more to the story.
Did the architects of this terrible aggression, me included, ensure this coincided with 2012? Or is this in fact what many were saying all along-- an inevitable turn of events because it was 2012. Were we bound to these happenings as sure as the Mayans, Druids, Nostradamus and whoever the fuck else predicted? The Wrath in the flu shots came to life as if on schedule! How could that be? I have to know. I will know. There are answers out there and this is bigger than what I know now.
There has to be more to the story.
Bogle knows how to steer a ship and Beasly has fully turned and is a help as well, although not much of one. The passengers are uneasy but they are letting their guard down. I see several that have been turned, and I also see some of our group that I was sure had been eliminated. Bogle has it under control. I go out and begin to attack.
As I move about the ship I concentrate on trying to turn people. I just bite them and hold them until they die. I cover their mouths, they go limp, I walk away, and they later turn. Really simple. After a long day, it starts to get dark. Mr. Bogle will blow the ship’s horns at sundown. Then the rest will join the attack and that will excite the newly turned. Like I said, mission one is to infect the armed men, but we will also be eating.
Then I hear the horn.
And the screams a while after that.
It is on, and we will win this easi
ly. There are just so many Healthies; hundreds of them. And they are, for the most part, unarmed. It’s perfect. One by one we take them down. I haven’t been this satisfied in a long while. I love to eat Healthies, but it is also quite gratifying to infect and turn them.
Sometimes I like to watch them bleed out and stop moving. They lie there awhile, never really looking dead. It looks like they are moving, but they aren’t. You can’t be sure, then their eyes open, glassy, and they sit up and look around confused. They get up and stagger about a bit frightened of other infected. But then it sets in and the confusion is replaced by rage and hunger, and they attack. Usually a loved one that doesn’t believe what has happened. The horror in a mother’s eye when what used to be her daughter, what I created, begins to bite and eat her. This has to be what an artist feels when he finishes a piece. This is art, make no mistake. And I am an artist! The creation of a different form of life with the flair and panache I give the process is art in its finest form!
Het Madden, a Zombie Perspective: Book One: WRATH 2012 Page 14