by Jack Wallen
Gerand’s jaw dropped open; his teeth clacked together once, twice. Finally a breath escaped his mouth, followed by a jet stream inhalation.
“I’m still alive.” A monstrous sigh escaped Gerand’s lips.
He attempted to stand, but unsure legs forced him back into his chair.
Standing sentinel beside the table was a stainless steel operating tray, which held an unused blood-drawing kit. From the kit, Gerand pulled the requisite rubber tube and tied it tight around his arm to draw up the veins. He sterilized the skin in the crook of his arm, removed the syringe from the sanitary packaging, and plunged the needle into his arm to do the deed.
“I have to know,” Gerand whispered, as blood filled the attached vial.
A vice clamped down on his head. He dropped the syringe and wrapped his fingers around his skull. Instinct made him want desperately to force his head into the brick walls of the basement. Any moment, the sound would return and he would know his fate.
Any…moment.
The crushing head pain subsided. Again, he attempted to stand; again, his legs buckled underneath him.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, and slammed his fist to the table. When he looked back up, he caught sight of the camera.
“Come to me, oh teller of truth.” Gerand reached across the table to get a hand on the nearest tripod leg. The camera was out of reach. Again he stretched; again he failed. His eyes darted around to find something to help him out of the situation. He assumed the weakness in his legs would soon wear off.
“Fuck, I don’t want to wait for this. I have to know.”
He spotted a rubber tourniquet used for blood drawing. He grabbed it and whipped it outward, toward the tripod leg. The rubber whip spun around the leg and took hold. With a gentle tug, the outfit came tumbling forward until the camera was in Gerand’s hands.
“Goddamn battery!”
The camera in its current state was of no use. The SD card within, however, was. The video on the memory card would have all the proof he needed to convince her it was all very real and very true.
Gerand pulled his laptop from the chair to his left and set it carefully on the table. He tapped in his ten-digit password and fired up his web browser.
“Zombie Radio dot org.”
When the website opened, it offered up the promise it was the “Personal soundtrack to the end of the world.”
“Jesus, people will try to capitalize on anything these days,” Gerand spat.
He knew, however, it was the only way to find her; and she was the only hope he had of making the public aware that a cure was in fact possible.
“…that’s right, Zombie Radio Nation, I have heard it all now. Steve-o asked the one question on everyone’s mind; is it okay to fall in love with one of the undead? Well, Steve—it’s okay if I call ya Steve, right?—no, it’s not. Why do I say that? Because I have what the masses would call a rational mind. That’s right, I said it; you, my friend, have crossed a line, okay? Ya know why? I’ll tell ya why, so make sure, Steve-o, you have your ear pressed tightly up against the speaker on your little radio. Here’s the why—because zombies are nothing but a gateway drug. Yah, I said it…a gateway drug. Next thing ya know, you’re wanting to bang vampires or Frankenstein’s monster. Or worse, you’re getting werewolves to blow you while you’re doing lines of coke off Igor’s hump. What hump, you say? This hump, jackass! Can you believe that, listeners? But seriously, if you’re even considering that a life with a zombie just might be for you, grab a pistol and give it the best hummer you can muster. And while you’re busy shining the knob of that weapon, pull the trigger. What other flavors of crazy have you for me, my lovelies? Why don’t you send me a tweet and let me know what’s going on? It’s always good to hear from my fellow survivors. You know where to reach me. In the meantime, how about a little song dedicated to our dear friend Steve-o? The song is by the Groovy Ghoulies and it’s called ‘Zombie Crush.’ Let’s get creepy!”
The grunge-inspired, punk-riff song drizzled from the speakers of the laptop as Gerand decided it was finally time to take his work public. He opened up his Twitter account and dropped his truth in the lap of the DJ in one hundred and forty characters.
@_zombieradio I have the cure. need to connect to bethany nitshimi
It was all he needed to say. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the reply.
chapter 9 | the wall, the metaphor, the skeleton dream
We drove through the night. The Hummer was packed tight, but at this point creature comfort had to take a backseat to survival. No one bitched; good thing, else they’d get backhanded by any given passenger packed in like forty pounds of ass in twenty-pound-ass-capacity jeans. I dozed on and off. Most of all I just needed to shut down my brain. Every waking moment of the apocalypse was spent with my mind spinning circles around how to get Jacob back and the pressure of having the weight of humanity on my shoulders.
My personal cross was a bit on the heavy side.
“Bethany,” Jamal whispered, and nodded for me to lean in. I complied. “I did a quick scan of the RF communication within the truck. The subdermal transponders used to locate Joshua and Morgan are not even remotely secure. It took me about forty-five seconds to hack into them and pinpoint their whereabouts. We need to either remove them or secure them.”
I scanned the truck—no one was listening.
“I’m all for securing them. Can you do it without their knowledge?”
Jamal bit his lower lip. I was almost hurt by the illegal use of the sexy lip move, thinking it restricted to women and their flirtations. In the end, I opted to overlook it, given how adorable it was on him.
“Yes,” he finally replied. “However…if we make any changes in the software on the chips, it would most likely mean whoever is watching them will lose their location.”
“That’s good, though, right?”
Jamal narrowed his eyes at me. “Well, yes, if those watching him are the bad guys. If they are the good guys we could be seriously monkeying with their sauce. And that sauce just happened to save us back there.”
He had a point. As much as I wanted that system shut down, the failsafe it offered brought a reassurance nothing else had.
“That’s a tough one, Jamal. What if you sneaked into the ZRT system and modified the tracking software with the changes you make to the chip? Maybe set up encryption key authentication on both sides so that the Zombie Response Team hackers have no idea that changes have been made to their system. As far as both ends are concerned, everything works as it should. We, on the other hand, know the truth.”
Jamal didn’t reply. Instead he pulled open his laptop and allowed his fingers to dance across the keys. The tips and taps of the keypad were hypnotic. I desperately wanted to join him on his mission, but I knew the best place for me at the moment was leading our little group to safety.
“I’m in,” Jamal grinned.
“Your boudoir banter is getting better, my dear. Can you locate the software and make the changes?”
Jamal looked at me as if I’d just insulted his dead mother. I knew better. Of course he could make the changes. Before I could amend my statement, Jamal looked up with a Cheshire Cat grin on his lips.
“Done. I’ve set up the encryption key on the server. All I have to do now is modify the chips themselves, add the key, and their system will officially meet our impossible security demands.”
I leaned in and kissed him square on the lips. “I could love you long time. Sooo long time, right now.”
Jamal pulled back, laughter spilling from his lips. He got the reference—graduate school, late nights, and too much anime.
“God, we were nerds,” I whispered.
“Were? Are you serious?”
“Hey, take a look at this.” Morgan’s voice broke the spell Jamal and I had woven.
Joshua pulled the Hummer to a stop; the headlights slashed through the darkness and a thin layer of fog to fall onto a makeshift wall of fencing, scaffold
ing, barbed wire, and car parts.
Before my brain could stop my hand, I had the door open. As I swung my legs out of the truck, I heard Morgan call out a warning, which I calmly ignored. My feet carried me to the front of the truck and stopped between the headlight beams. The wall stretched beyond the reach of my vision. Someone opened one of the truck doors and stepped out. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot put an end to my reverie of awe. Jamal stepped in next to me and stood without saying a word. We took in the odd sight until Jamal finally spoke.
“What in the hell do you think this is?”
I allowed his voice to fade into nothing before I fully pondered the question.
“There are only two possible scenarios that would justify such a structure, Jamal. One—someone built this to keep something in. Two—someone built this to keep something out. If the latter, that would mean someone is inside this wall. That being the case, how do we get inside to help rescue whatever fair maiden lies in wait?”
“Bethany,” Jamal started, “what’s really strange about this situation is the complete and absolute lack of sound. Shouldn’t there be, I don’t know, crickets, at least?”
Jamal had a point. Unfortunately, said point stood a bit outside the realm of relevance.
“I’m afraid, Jamal.”
As the words left my mouth, Jamal clenched my hand in his. The gesture was touching and comforting. But as we stood and stared at this post-apocalyptic edifice, I couldn’t help but wonder how far down the rabbit hole of fear and paranoia mankind would dive.
“Is this what we’ve come to? Walling ourselves up to keep the tides of death at bay? How far will this go? And what’s the next barbaric evolution?”
Jamal pulled me in close and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“No one knows, B. The human race jumped on this train long before the Mengele Virus was released. We were always an itchy trigger finger away from complete devastation. On the one hand, I feel like we should be thankful it happened the way it did.”
I pulled away and gave him my best “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” glance.
“Think about it: Had someone finally lost their marbles and decided to drop a nuke, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. The second that first bomb struck soil, countless others would have been dropped. Every man and woman on the planet would have been done for in an instant. The way it did end at least gave us a fighting chance. Hell, it even offered us the ability to turn the whole nightmare around. War would have laughed while it bent us over. The way I see it, we got off easy. At least now we can start all over and maybe even do it right.”
As much as I wanted to argue with Jamal, I couldn’t. He had a point and he’d made it well. A nuclear-centric war would have flattened the planet. At least with the virus there was hope—albeit slim—that we could kick death in the teeth and live to see another decade or two. I turned to the beautiful man and smiled a strange, misplaced smile.
“Thank you, Jamal.”
“For what?”
“For just being. Life would feel fairly hopeless without you by my side.” I leaned in and planted another kiss on his lips. “As much as I’d like to find out what’s going on inside this structure, we really have to stay mobile.” I pulled Jamal toward the truck and pushed him to one side. We both entered the Hummer on our respective sides.
Morgan was the first to loft a question our way.
“Well, what is it?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I believe it’s a walled-in city.”
“As in people are living inside there?” Echo made her presence known.
“People have to do what they have to do. If that means putting walls between the living and the undead, so be it. I’m all for it.” Josh nearly shouted his response. He was clearly on edge over something.
“Let’s head out, Josh. We need to make it to New Salt Lake City sooner rather than later.” I smacked Josh on his beefy shoulder as I spoke. The driver immediately started the truck and punched the gas. For the first few miles we all sat in silence. Probably the looming figure of the wall had us all wondering, guessing. I stuck with my original assumption. Although the assumption was most likely way off, having a bit of definition to the structure gave it meaning and allowed me a bit of closure, even if only to the smallest part of my life. Regardless, I couldn’t help but see that wall as a metaphor for our situation. Each and every one of us wanted to wall ourselves in, block everyone and everything from gaining entry to our personal space. The second I realized that about myself, it became clear to me how self-defeating such behavior could be.
My head leaned against slick, smooth glass; my eyes focused lazily on the pinprick stars that danced in the night sky. The flicker and fade of the tiny lights had me mesmerized; the bump and rumble of the Hummer helped lull my consciousness to a dreamy close.
*
The landscape melted away to reveal a ruined mess of a city. Every building, unmade; every tree, smoldering ash. Waves of heat rushed my face. I turned to escape, only to find a wall of bone and flesh erected before me.
I tried to call out…the heat stole my voice.
I tried to run…my shoes melted into the ground.
A tear fell from my eye and turned to steam before me.
All around, silence and loss drifted like cherry blossoms. It seemed I was the sole trace of life that remained; I was completely and utterly alone. The weight of the idea tugged me down until the flesh of my knees and palms burned from the heat of the char-black pavement. The scent of cooking flesh wafted into my nostrils, bringing a rush of saliva to my mouth. Hunger consumed me. Without fair warning I was overcome by the sickening desire to partake of my own meat. The thought brought a rush of bile to the roof of my mouth. My lips closed tight against one another to keep the sick at bay.
“Bethany.” The whispered word encompassed me, caressed me. The voice was so familiar.
“No,” I spoke through choking sobs. “You’re gone. You’re not here.”
“I have been remade in man’s image. Desire has brought me back into the realm of the living. You need me, Bethany.” Again the voice begged for my attention.
I couldn’t resist. Some morbid curiosity insisted itself upon my will and pulled my chin up until my gaze landed on Jacob Plummer—standing directly in front of me. He was consumed with fire. His eyes were the only recognizable feature that remained. His big, beautiful, cocoa-brown eyes.
“No, Jacob. I needed you. Now I just need our baby.”
The second the words fell from my lips, the body-rocking sobs followed. With my hands and knees still flesh-fused to the pavement, all I could do was buck and fold. Once I finally regained control of my diaphragm, I raised my eyes back to the flaming visage.
“You have to help me find him, Jacob.”
The blackened head turned slightly to the side, the whites of his eyes gleaming through the blood-slick and chunky flesh of his face.
“I cannot.”
“Then why are you here?” I screamed, as a shock of pain shot up my right arm and down my spine.
“I am here so that you will never forget—”
“Never forget what?”
Jacob stepped closer to me and knelt, his flesh unaffected by the tremendous heat.
“Death.”
I nearly laughed at the talking corpse before me.
“And just how do you suppose I could ever forget about death? It’s all around, in living three-dimensional color. Every second of every day I deal with death. There’s nothing you could say or do to make me any more aware of death than I already am. You were the lucky one. You don’t have to live with the heartbreaking loss of the only heart to ever make you whole. You don’t have to continue to fight the near-certainty of a losing war. You don’t have to remember, Jacob.”
The burning man reached his hand out and cupped my chin. As our skin touched, a wave of comforting cool flooded my system.
“You don’t understand, Bethany. Death has become a commodit
y to broker and trade. It’s the new king of Wall Street and anyone with a pound of that flesh will rule the land of their choosing. It’s a pendulum already set in motion that cannot be stopped. At least not without our child.”
At the mention of my baby, I ripped my right hand from the pavement and grabbed the collar of whoever (or whatever) stood before me.
“What do you mean by that?”
The specter stared through me as if I no longer mattered. He said nothing.
“Please, you have to help me.”
The figure carefully grasped my raised hand and kissed its palm gently.
“Our son is much more than a blueprint for a cure. He is a link to the past and the future. He is the key to everything and nothing.”
As Jacob finished his last sentence, the flesh of his arm began to flake away and crumble to dust in the superheated wind.
“Hope dies along with our child, Bethany. You must find him.”
All that remained was the blinding white skeleton until, one by one, the bones dropped to the floor and exploded like surreal firecrackers. When the skull finally fell to the pavement, the explosion rocked the landscape.
chapter 10 | besting god
The room was cramped. With two doctors and Commander Faddig standing around the full-sized hospital bed, there was little room to move. The air was saturated with tension and the chemical smell of disinfectant and antiseptic.
“So, are we going to stand here all day and ogle the invisible man, or are you going to unveil the latest freak show experiment that will most likely fail us, just as every other surgical disaster has?” Faddig huffed.
Dr. Otte stepped in close to the head of the bed and removed a pair of bandage scissors from a surgical tray.
“You will regret underestimating us this time, commander.” The doctor carefully slid the scissors under the gauze covering the patient’s face and slowly closed the handle. The cutting edge of the blades sliced through the fabric as if it were tissue.
“I’ve grown fond of underestimating, Dr. Otte. It’s far better than the usual disappointment surrounding this organization. We’ve failed at every intersection; what makes this one any different?”