by Jack Wallen
The scissors made the last cut and the doctor dropped the stainless steel utensil onto the metal tray with a disruptive “clang.” His surgeon-steady fingers grasped the free ends of the wrapping and began to slowly peel them away. Layer by layer, the gauze came free until there was but a wispy thin film of fabric remaining. Finally, Dr. Otte turned to Faddig and smiled.
“I am fairly certain, when the veil is lifted, you will behold the past, present, and future collided. What we have done is provide for you the very insurance you need that Miss Nitshimi will find her way back into the arms of the Zero Day Collective.”
Faddig released a machine-gun laugh. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?”
Both Drs. Otte and Karem turned and glared at their commander.
“Just show me what the hell you’ve done so I can get back to doing something worthwhile.”
Otte’s fingers lifted the remaining bandages from the face of the patient, as if he were about to lift the veil from the mother of God. From under swollen lids, familiar brown eyes stared back at the three men.
The silence that overcame the room was heavy and electric. Command Faddig finally broke the spell.
“What have you done?”
“Bested God,” was Dr. Karem’s reply.
chapter 11 | this can’t be happening
“Bethany, wake up.”
The sound of Echo’s voice dragged me from my nightmare dreamscape. When I woke, my arms were flailing like I was swatting kamikaze bumblebees.
“Whoa, whoa; it’s okay.”
“Echo?”
“Yeah, B, it’s me.”
“What’s going on? Why are we stopped?”
“Joshua had to fuel the truck up. We heard explosions. Morgan and Josh are trying to decide if we should go investigate.”
I didn’t give Echo fair warning; I shoved her aside and jumped to the parking lot pavement. As soon as I spotted the leaders of the Zombie Response Team, I sprinted.
“We can’t.” The words started spilling from my mouth before I reached the couple. “We don’t have time for sightseeing or sidetracks. I don’t care if Elvis fucking Presley appears on a cloud gyrating to ‘Jailhouse Rock,’ we have to get to New Salt Lake City as soon as possible.”
Morgan turned to address me; the look on her face was driven and single-minded.
“Bethany, I know we promised you but we cannot ignore what’s going on around us.”
I stepped in, probably a bit too close. “Yes we can and will. Take a look around you, it’s the same everywhere: death, decay, destruction. That’s the landscape of the entire world now. No matter where we go, there will be people hurting, starving, dying…transforming. If we stop for everyone, we’ll never make it. I don’t think you need to yet again hear the consequences of our not making it to Utah.”
Both Morgan and Josh stared at me, their faces revealing a level of defeat I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“You know this is wrong, Bethany.” Morgan’s voice was sharp. “We should be helping everyone we can.”
I reached forward and took her hands in mine. “And we will. The best way for us to help the largest number of people, in the most efficient manner, is to reach our destination. I have to get my baby back, and the only way we can do that is to get seriously organized. We need a home base to work from and it needs to be close to the Zero Day Collective. Please”—I patted Morgan’s hand—“try to understand all that I do is for the greater good.”
“The needs of the many.” Morgan closed her eyes and nodded.
I kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you, Morgan. I promise you, I will not let you down.”
“B!” Rizzo came blitzing out of the Hummer. “Come here. You’ve gotta hear this.”
I dashed to the truck. The passenger door was already open, so I stuck my head in. The radio was on, the voice familiar.
“…it seems legit, ladies and gentlemen of the Zombie Radio Nation. I don’t want to incite a riot or give you false hopes, but it looks as if someone has finally found the cure to the Mengele Virus. That someone happens to have their sights set on none other than Bethany Nitshimi. If you’re out there, Bethany, I need you to listen very closely. A Twitter account by the name @richard_gerand has posted that he has found the cure and a vaccine. He insists on speaking to you. If you’re listening, Bethany…call in. If this is real, then well… the world is counting on you.”
“My phone.” My hands scrambled through my pockets and came up empty. “Shit, where’s my goddamn phone?”
Echo launched herself out of the Hummer and thrust the phone in question to me. Without so much as a “thank you,” I grabbed the device, opened up the Skype app, and tapped the Zombie Radio contact.
“Looks like our fearless leader has arrived.”
“Yeah, it’s me. Tell me what you know?”
From the radio, Simple Minds’ “Alive and Kicking” played. From the phone, the DJ spoke, his voice no longer infected with a lingering case of James T. Kirk. “I told you everything I know, my love. The tweet came into my account, so I figured I might as well give you a shout-out in case you were still alive and kicking. By the way, get the song?”
I did. How could I not?
“Has this guy not attempted to contact you in any other way?”
“B, I’ve already told you,” the DJ said, “the tweet was it. But don’t worry, love of my life, I will get this man on the line and hook the two of you up. If I do…you have to promise me a date for my trouble.”
The madness never ends. It was, however, the least I could do in the hope of salvaging what’s left of the planet.
“You got it. One date, my choice of locations. No sex, no promise of anything handsy, and my entire posse will be close by in case you try something crazy.”
From the phone came an almost joyous, albeit misplaced, laughter. “Oh Bethany, you do hurt me so. Why in the world would I try something crazy? I only want to show my respect for what you’ve done to help pull civilization out of the ashen rubble. I feel like I owe you at least a night on the town but I promise I won’t try anything. I also won’t stop you should you decide you can’t keep your mitts off my silken flesh.”
Silence.
“I kid. Don’t worry, I’m not a creep. I won’t be wearing your skin like a dress. No one will need to put the lotion on itself.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, Bethany. I can’t help myself. It’s just part of my shtick. Look, no date. You won’t owe me anything. I’ll hook the two of you up in the name of doing mankind the biggest favor I could possibly offer. Hopefully the two of you can stop the Zero Day Collective before they manage to succeed with this ‘Great Cleansing.’”
“Thank you.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the one that should be on the business end of some serious thank-yous. The entire world owes you more than you know. One of these days, when we manage to make it through this nightmare, kids will be studying Bethany Nitshimi in school—you’re already a real-life hero.”
It was getting thick. I don’t handle “thick” well.
“Promise me you’ll contact me as soon as you know how I can reach this Richard Gerand.”
“Done. Just try to stay logged into Skype so I can reach you right away. You’re doing great work, Bethany. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
The anthem from the eighties faded to oblivion and the DJ came back on the air.
“You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio—your personal soundtrack to the end of the world. That was Simple Minds and “Alive and Kicking.” Why? Because…what better anthem for the survivors of the new world order? I have a message for Richard Gerand: if you’re listening, you need to contact me with your information. I have a direct line to Ms. Nitshimi and she wants to meet you.”
I’d heard all I needed. Besides, the DJ had me at “cure.” Not that I was one hundred percent sold. We’d all traveled that road once, only to find it a dead end. But I wasn’t going to fl
oss the teeth of this gift horse.
“You do realize”—Jamal pulled me out of my fugue—“if you meet this guy, you can’t neglect the idea that it could be a setup.”
“I’ve already thought that through. This Gerand business could just as easily be the ZDC luring me into a trap. If the meetup happens, I’ll have you with me.”
“Damn straight you will.”
I loved it when Jamal spoke tough. Not that he did it often…or well…but it was nice to see him ready to fight for me.
“Help…”
The cry echoed off the surrounding buildings. Everyone in the group stopped what they were doing and stared at one another…waiting as a dreadful silence took over. It took mere seconds for the void of sound to be replaced by another, harsher cry. My first thought was “Not again.” We couldn’t afford yet another distraction from our destination.
“Help me, please!”
Jamal stepped away from the truck and slowly pitched his head to the left and then the right. He was waiting for another plea so he could triangulate the location. Morgan took a step toward Jamal. I put a hand on her arm and when she looked back at me I shook my head in a warning.
The silence was once again rudely interrupted by a sound—only this time, the sound was a hellborn screech. The noise sent shivers rushing across my flesh.
“Screamers,” I whispered.
“Lock and load, everyone.” Joshua barked out the order as he turned and made his way to the back of the Hummer. “These sons of bitches come fast and hard. Morgan—”
“I’m on it.” Morgan knew the drill and climbed to the top of the Hummer as if it were her own personal playground. The large-caliber machine gun swung around and pointed in the direction of the screams.
Jamal noticed Morgan’s rough aim and shook his head. “No, over there.” His arm pointed almost forty-five degrees from where the sound seemed to originate.
“No, it came from there,” Morgan argued.
“Trust me,” was all Jamal had to say. Morgan swung her aim to match Jamal’s arm and glanced my way. When I nodded, Morgan relaxed and steadied herself for a fight.
Josh handed out rifles to anyone ready and willing to take aim. That left out both Echo and Jamal. I was good with that. Before I could offer up a command to my cohorts in crime, Echo was bounding off toward the nearest building, her bow in hand.
“Ech—” I started to shout after her, but cut myself off when Josh placed a death grip on my arm.
The screech of the Screamer tore through the silence again. This time, the maddening roar was followed by the arrival of a single woman. As soon as she rushed into view, she raced across an empty parking lot and, in perfect synchrony with every formulaic horror movie on the planet, she tripped and landed face down. With near-perfect timing, the Screamer appeared on the stage—every gun in the group was raised and took aim. The Screamer stopped and roared its approval at the fresh meat.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” The woman sat up and raised her own cry to the heavens.
“She’s losing it.” Morgan whispered from above. “Josh, you have a clean shot?”
Josh offered the slightest nod of his head. He sucked in a deep breath.
“Take it,” whispered Morgan.
As Josh fired off the round, the zombie went apeshit and launched itself at the woman. She didn’t stand a chance. The monster had her head in its hands and began bashing it on the pavement. Once. Twice. Three times. The lady didn’t stand a chance. Before either Josh or Morgan could fire another volley, a familiar “thwunk” was heard, and an arrow appeared in the back of the zombie’s skull. The beast reached back to grab the arrow, but it was too late. The arrowhead had pierced the zombie’s spinal cord.
The Screamer went down.
The only sound was the sobbing of the woman. She finally looked our way and offered a grateful smile. As the woman stood, another breath-stealing roar crashed through the area—followed by a second, and a third, and a fourth. The final count was impossible through the flood of bile and fear that rushed my system. I turned to Jamal—he slowly shook his head. Fear had washed the color from his face.
Before we could react, a psychotic army of Screamers peeled from behind the surrounding buildings. Each of the zombies rushed into the center of the town mall and surrounded the woman. And then…they stopped, as if the rage had been sucked from their souls.
“They’re sizing each other up,” Joshua whispered, in awe.
“It’s like they’re trying to establish some pecking order,” Jamal added.
“No. I don’t buy that. They’re mindless bastards; they have no need for a goddamn pecking order.”
I wanted to believe my words. Truth was, I didn’t. There was no logic to nature now. No matter how much we strived to adhere to the laws of physics and science, they didn’t seem to amount to the square root of fuck-all any more.
“Josh,” Morgan called from above, “I realize this goes against everything we stand for; but if we stay and fight, what we won’t stand is a chance.”
“I’m with ya all the way.” Josh lowered his weapon. “Let’s bug out.”
Shit.
“We can’t.”
“What do you mean, Bethany?” Joshua questioned. “We can and we will.”
“Echo. We can’t leave her.”
“Fuck.” Morgan and Josh spoke out in unison.
Rizzo stepped in close to me.
“I got this one.”
Before we could stop her, she was off in a cloud of dust.
“Should one of us…?” I started.
Josh shook his head. “Riz will be fine. Let’s all get in the truck and wait for her. Morgan will stay up top and cover their return.”
Morgan tossed a wink my way and turned the barrel of the gun back toward the horde.
“I don’t like this, Jamal.”
“Me either, B. Their behavior is starting to evolve. They almost seem…organized.”
Jamal was right. The Screamers were still standing in a circle around the woman. One by one they roared at one another, almost as if they were proving their ferocity through sound. The loudest shriek got the girl—or in this case the brainpan stir-fry.
Finally, one of the zombies stepped forward. When another attempted to move, the other released a Jurassic-powered roar that drove the challenger back. What had to be the silverback zombie stepped up to the girl, grabbed her head, and crushed her skull with his bare hands. Immediately he thrust his fingers inside and pulled out the delicacy. Every Screamer in the circle unleashed a horror-soundtrack of cries and howls. When the silverback finished his meal, he walked around within the circle, his chest puffed up, as if he actually comprehended his victory.
“This isn’t happening.”
I put my hand on Jamal’s shoulder and gave it a pat.
“Wake me from this nightmare,” I whispered into Jamal’s ear. He turned to me, his oversized brown eyes filled with compassion and concern. “I feel like we’re watching King Kong redux.”
Before I could continue my commentary, the silverback stuck his rotting nose in the air. Some wind-borne stench had the beast’s attention.
“Oh hell, no,” Josh hissed. “Get in the truck. Now.”
No one had the courage to argue with the man-bear’s orders. The remaining crew climbed into the Hummer and closed the doors tight.
“Josh, what’s going on?” I questioned. I was greeted with silence. “Josh…”
“They smell us,” was all he needed to say. The single sentence sent a sea of dread flowing through my veins. Within the span of time between heartbeats, we went from spectators to sport. Any moment the horde would descend and feast.
“We really need to haul ass.” Josh reached for the ignition.
“No way.” I grabbed Josh’s arm and pulled it back. “We don’t leave without Echo and Rizzo—that is not up for debate.”
Josh was about to argue my point when a chorus of undead screams washed over the vehicle. The
first wave of sound was replaced by the staccato music of the machine gun. The second the weapon went silent, Echo and Rizzo’s voices could be heard calling out over the undead chorus.
“There they are,” Jamal cried.
The two young women rushed toward the truck, hands waving in the air. Echo and Rizzo were about fifty yards away, the undead horde about the same. It was officially a race against time. Thankfully, Joshua had the presence of mind to fire up the truck and speed off toward the girls. We had to give them every possible advantage. If we didn’t tip the scales in their favor, there’d be no way they’d survive the oncoming hell.
Josh punched the roof of the truck twice. “Hang on, Morgo!” Without warning, he slammed on the brakes to spin the car sideways. As soon as gravity released him, Josh leaned over and opened the passenger-side door.
The timing of the next moment was unbelievable. Echo’s hand reached the door handle just as one of the Screamers’ hands reached Echo’s arm. The monster gave his arm a yank and pulled Echo to the ground.
“Echo, no!” My scream fell on deaf and dead ears.
I tried to fight my way out of the truck to save Echo, but Jamal had the door blocked, his head slowly shaking “no.”
What I saw next, I couldn’t believe. Rizzo rushed to an industrial-sized trashcan and pulled out a piece of rebar. The second she was at the zombie’s side, she swung the metal bar down hard enough to cave in the zombie’s skull.
She didn’t stop there. Blow after blow she landed on the thing’s head, until it was little more than a pulpy mess. Echo managed to escape the grip of the grim reaper and reach the truck. Before the next round of death could reach her, Rizzo dropped the rebar and jumped into the Hummer.
“Go! Go!” I shouted from the back of the truck. By the skin of our teeth, we were all together again. As the truck kicked up rooster tails of dust, Morgan unleashed a salvo of hatred from above. Jamal and I both rubbernecked our way to the window to watch bullets slice and dice the zombies, a few of which dropped to their final final death. It took a while for the remaining undead army to fade into the distance.