Cry Zombie Cry (I Zombie Book 5)

by Jack Wallen

  “Good girl,” I thought aloud, and turned to Jamal. “We have to get down there.”

  “And do what? Join the picnic? Bethany, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “I refuse to be a spectator when there are innocent people about to die.”

  “Bethany, you can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Heat boiled past my neck and into my cheeks.

  “Why not?” I screamed.

  “Franz,” Vanity’s voice interrupted, “raise the wires.”

  Jamal and I slowly turned to Rip.

  “One more trick up my sleeve.”

  We turned to the window. I pulled up my binoculars and focused in on the zombies nearest the audience. From out of nowhere, what looked like a razor wire fence sprung up to create a slice-and-dice boundary between the living and the dead. The fence wasn’t solid, but every time one of the Moaners attempted to step through the wires, it would reduce an appendage to zombie tartar.

  “Right fucking on!” Vanity shouted.

  Bullets and arrows continued to rain down from the towers. Slowly the numbers diminished, but the horde was still too large. The fence stretched; the screams rose. I still needed to be down there fighting. “Useless” wasn’t in my vocabulary.

  I turned back to Jamal to protest. And then it happened.

  Mauser’s Obliterator solo. It started out as minor variation of the melody; the notes danced around the tune so delicately sung by Aya. When he punched the volume and the sound of the Obliterator became obvious enough for the undead, the effect took hold. At first the zombies ceased their attack on the fence. They swayed as if their rage had simply been shut off. Mauser toyed with the melody once again and shifted the tempo and rhythm of the solo to match the slower pace of the swaying undead.

  And then the guitarist’s fingers were set ablaze. The notes rose and fell faster and faster. A high note would ring out and then be undercut by harmonics—while the oscillations of the Obliterator continued to punish the aural systems of the zombie horde.

  Finally, Mauser punched the distortion and turned the volume to a painful level. Without warning, the zombies turned on one another. Skulls were crushed, limbs were ripped from sockets, bodies were flensed, and viscous brown blood slopped through the air and onto the ground. When a zombie had no victim to gut and break, the violence would turn inward. Moaners smashed their heads to the ground in an attempt to silence the horrific sound. When their own skulls refused to cave, they took off for silent pastures.

  “Jesus in drag,” Vanity shouted. “It worked. I’ve never seen anything like it…and I hope to never again.”

  Mauser continued wailing along with the Obliterator, long after the last of the undead had departed.

  “Ladies and mother fucking gentlemen, undead Elvis has left the building.”

  The sound of the Obliterator faded and the song returned to its former glory. Aya joined in with the final verse and chorus.

  Metal had saved the day.

  “Bethany, I think your ghost is back.”

  I focused the glass of my spy specs and aimed them in the direction of Jamal’s finger.

  “Fuck,” I whispered. “How did the sound not…?” My voiced faded to silence.

  “What are you going to do, Bethany?”

  “You know what I’m going to do.”

  Without another word, I ran out of the booth and raced down the stairs.

  The band fired up another tune, a slower piece that highlighted Aya’s voice and a sampled symphony. I hit the ground floor and ran as fast as my Chuck Taylor’d feet would carry me.

  He hadn’t moved. He knew I’d return.

  Finally, I stood face to face with Jacob Plummer.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “You know who I am, Bethany.”

  The voice of Jacob caressed my ears and coaxed a lump to my throat.

  “You can’t be. I killed you.”

  “How do you know? You didn’t stay long enough to know for sure I died.”

  The lump in my throat threatened to jettison itself from my mouth and rain down rage over the impostor.

  “I saw the goddamn bullet shatter your skull. Your blood splashed back on me. You died instantly. There was no coming back.”

  Tears won out and raced down my cheek.

  “I loved you and I killed you. There’s no mistaking either of those facts. Now, I’ll ask you again,” I raised a gun and leveled it at the thing’s forehead. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jacob Plummer.”

  I fired a warning shot. The thing flinched.

  “My name is Jacob—”

  Another shot, another flinch. I could now hardly see through the waterfall of tears.

  “Who are you?” I shouted.

  Silence. Until it spoke again.

  “My name is Subject 002. I need you to come with me, to the Zero Day Collective. I promise—”

  I pulled the trigger. The sound of the blast echoed for what had to be forever. A puff of smoke rose from the weapon, as time stood still. For the second time in my life, I killed the man I loved. This time, however, no rivulet of blood poured from the hole in Jacob’s forehead. Our bodies simultaneously dropped in a tragic twist of fate. The eyes of Jacob stared at me—empty, bereft of life, of soul…again. My body violently convulsed and threatened shock. I felt a pair of arms grab me and pull me into a tight embrace. From a distance, I could hear a new song played, the voice of an angel sang to me.

  Come alive

  Play outside

  Show your party dress

  Moan with me

  And all will see

  You darling pretty mess

  Begin again

  Make amends

  Your love is my death

  Look inside

  My blinded eyes

  You darling pretty mess

  chapter 31 | a bullet to the head

  “Commander,” the comm chief shouted. “The mission failed. Every undead soldier has been neutralized.”

  Faddig shot out of his chair and rushed to the side of the communications desk. “That’s impossible.”

  The chief pointed at his computer screen. “Here’s the mission log that was just filed. Read it for your—”

  Faddig slapped the soldier on the back of the head.

  “If you ever attempt to give me an order again I’ll have you infected and locked up without a brain in sight.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  Faddig read the entire report, his jaw clenching and unclenching with every word.

  “Unbelievable. One task…one goddamn task was all they had to accomplish. What about the Cradle? Was it released?”

  “Sir, the zombies couldn’t get close enough to—”

  A primal scream roared from Faddig’s mouth.

  “From the moment I took command of this organization, I have been offered a litany of excuses as to why we have been unable to defeat Bethany Nitshimi. Those excuses end now. I want her and her groupies dead so we can finally move forward. She’s one fucking woman and we are a goddamn army!”

  The commander paced the room, his breathing audible to anyone within twenty feet. He finally turned back to the comm chief and spoke in a slow, measured tone.

  “Send the drop-ships back immediately. Have them open fire on the crowd. I want every single one of those survivors dead.”

  The chief turned to Faddig, his jaw and eyes wide open. “Sir, that’s not how the Zero Day Collective works. Our mission—”

  Faddig reached around to his lower back. When his hand returned, a pistol came to bear on the communications chief. Before the chief could protest, Faddig pulled the trigger and sent a bullet through the man’s right eye. The dead body slumped forward and hit the ground with a thump. Faddig dragged the corpse from under the comm desk and picked up the headphones and mic.

  “This is commander Faddig. I want all ships to return to the location of the drop off and open fire on the survivors. I repea
t, return to previous engagement and shoot to kill.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the only response.

  Faddig stood and turned to leave. One other soldier was present—a female. The woman stood at attention, visibly shaken and desperate to leave the scene.

  “Get rid of this body and take over communications.”

  The woman nodded to Faddig’s command as he left the room. As Faddig marched away, he could hear the woman weeping softly.

  chapter 32 | bad news good news

  The concert finished, every band managed to play, and every living being remained alive. The only sounds were random voices—bands promising to come together again to continue celebrating life and music. Autographs were signed (most of the bands even asking for my signature), and hugs were exchanged.

  My crew said its good-byes, but not before making sure they offered their sincerest thanks to Rip Vanity. It wasn’t just about helping to remind the living how precious life was, it was also about taking down a vast number of the undead.

  “We haven’t won the war yet, but we won a major battle,” Vanity whispered into my ear as he hugged me.

  Before we could leave the site, the thrumming sound of airships drew my attention.

  “Jamal,” I stopped and turned. “Are those—?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? They didn’t have time to load another army of undead.”

  Before I could continue, the first shots exploded in the air. Screams joined the tattoo of whatever high-powered rifles were fired.

  “Oh my God,” Echo shouted. “They’re…killing them. We have to do something.”

  “No way,” Rizzo spat. “Not on my watch.”

  With a rifle in her arms, Rizzo took off. Morgan and Josh followed after her, arming themselves as they ran. Echo turned to me, tears rushing down her cheeks. Echo’s eyes flashed to her bow and back to me. The girl wanted permission to help defend the innocent. The last thing my conscience needed was the death of another young girl.

  Against my better judgment, I nodded.

  “We have to help, Jamal.”

  “With what? We’re not armed.”

  I pulled out two pistols from a pack and handed one to Jamal.

  “Against those ships? That’d be like throwing rocks at King Kong.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t sit back and do nothing. The rules have clearly changed. The Zero Day Collective has just displayed an act of desperation. We can’t let them win this—at all costs. Fight with me.”

  “I have always been and always shall be—”

  “Your friend.” I finished the quote for him. He kissed me. We sped off toward the sound of shooting.

  By the time we returned to the area, dead bodies lined the rows of makeshift seating. Blood pooled in the dust and dirt. The chaos of cries and shouts littered the air.

  “There,” Jamal pointed. I followed his finger to the location of the ships.

  I scanned the area for our team to find them returned to the towers, their weapons hot. I was about to shout to Jamal to follow me to one of the towers when I noticed him doing his thing—calculating some secret solution.

  “Follow me, Bethany.”

  I chased Jamal around the perimeter of the situation into a small copse of trees off to the side. When we arrived, Jamal’s reasoning became quite clear. The doors to the drop-ships were open and we had clear shots at the snipers from our new vantage point, as the ships flew by.

  “How’s your shooting, Jamal?”

  He looked at me, a wide grin on his lips.

  “Much better than you would think.”

  Jamal raise his pistol to shoot. Before he could fire, we heard a scream. I pulled out my binoculars and trained their sights on the tower. Rizzo was down. I grabbed my radio and called out.

  “Echo, Echo…what’s going on?”

  Seconds ticked by before the reply came.

  “Rizzo’s been hit.” Echo’s voice shook with fear.

  “I’m fine, it’s just a flesh wound.”

  “She’s not fine; she’s bleeding badly.” Echo left the call button depressed so I could hear Rizzo let loose a litany of profanity as she opened fire on the ships.

  “Motherfucking, ass-faced, monkey-raping, doucherammer!” Rizzo screamed. I pulled the binoculars back up to my eyes to see Rizzo unleash a salvo of ammunition along with her f-bombs.

  As one of the planes did a flyby, Rizzo connected with the pilot and the plane veered off. Given the low altitude, the craft didn’t stand a chance. Without losing any speed, the plane slammed into the ground. The sound was like Godzilla ripping a giant metal phonebook in half and then slamming it to the ground in a rage. A blaze of smoke and fire quickly followed.

  Jamal steadied his aim. As a second plane flew by, he took two shots. His second bullet took out the sniper, who plummeted to the ground below.

  I nudged Jamal out of the way and gave him an apologetic glance. “This one’s mine.”

  Jamal nodded and grabbed his binoculars to start giving me the play-by-play. I didn’t need the commentary; I had already figured out the flight pattern, so taking out the final sniper would be too easy.

  I wanted more.

  The plane flew off in order to turn and make another pass—this time toward us. I was ready. I held the pistol before me, steel steady. As the plane drew nearer, the image of Jacob Plummer flashed into my memory. Remembering what the ZDC did to us pushed me beyond boundaries I never knew existed—helped me to become someone okay with taking another life. I resented the Zero Day Collective for taking away that innocence. My feelings for them went well beyond hatred. I wanted them dead—each and every one of them.

  I held my breath. As soon as I had a bead on the pilot, I took the shot. The plane continued forward for a moment and then took an immediate nosedive into the field. The crunching metal of the fuselage was nothing more than a prologue to the explosion of the fuel tanks and engines that challenged the decibel levels generated by every metal band to ever exist. I’d underestimated the carnage from the crash, as fire raced toward the entrance and the towers.

  “Echo,” I screamed into the radio. “Get out of there now!”

  I trained the binoculars on the tower to watch Josh and Morgan climbing down, followed by Echo.

  “Where’s Rizzo? Fuck, Jamal…where’s Rizzo?”

  Finally she stepped off the platform and lowered one foot after another down the ladder, her right arm dangling uselessly at her side.

  “Bethany,” Jamal demanded, “we have to go.”

  I pulled the binoculars away to see the fire spreading toward us. I stood and took off…toward the stage. Jamal grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop.

  “No, B, we’re done here. You have to think of yourself for once.”

  He was right. We had so much more to do. Besides, Rip Vanity had proved himself a survivor and I had a feeling we’d meet again someday. With that in mind, I raced off with Jamal. Once we were out of harm’s way, I radioed the crew.

  “We’re heading back to headquarters. Meet us there. Do not fail me.”

  *

  Jamal and I arrived at the wall without incident. Instead of climbing over and waiting for the crew on the other side, we decided to hang out and play welcoming committee.

  “They’ll make it.” Jamal’s words were a hollow comfort at the moment. The only release from my current state of panic would come when I saw the rest of the group arrive safely.

  “I can’t believe they did that!” Jamal surprised me with an angry shout. When I jerked my head his way, I finally caught the tears falling down his cheeks.

  “Jamal…what is it?”

  His breathing grew deep, almost painfully so. “All that senseless death and carnage…and for what? Those people didn’t need to die. They were just there trying to enjoy a moment in time. I feel…”

  Jamal went silent, his eyes closed in thought.

  “…I feel like the Zero Day Collective cheated, rewrote the rules. Here we’ve
been preparing for a war against the undead and they unleash a barrage of bullets, turned the hands of time back to traditional warfare.”

  When Jamal glanced back at me, he wore a look I’d never before seen on his face.

  “If they won’t play fair, we won’t play fair. Bethany, this is war and we won’t stop until those bastards are dead. By any and all means, we will destroy those ass maggots.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jamal lived and breathed by the rules—they were his guiding principles. To see him renounce fair play was a revelation that could effectively turn the tides of this nightmare.

  Before we could start quoting Sun Tzu, the rest of the group arrived. Josh had Rizzo in his arms.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Echo spoke through tears.

  “How are we going to get her over the wall?” I asked.

  It was Morgan who saved the day. From a sizable length of rope, she fashioned a harness that allowed us to pull the limp body of Rizzo up and then lower her over the wall. It was a feat of strength we couldn’t have pulled off without Josh’s massive arms and a bit of counterbalancing trickery thought up by Jamal. After about fifteen minutes of heaving, Rizzo was on the other side of the wall and we raced with her back to the church.

  *

  The wound wasn’t nearly as superficial as Rizzo claimed.

  “How did she manage to shoot down that plane with this wound?” I asked.

  Morgan looked up as her hand continued to stroke the sleeping girl’s hair. “That’s Rizzo; she’s stubborn and loyal as hell. I’ve never known someone to cheat death the way she does. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.” Morgan looked up at me, her dark eyes begging for strength. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

  I nodded.

  After sedating Rizzo, we wound up cauterizing the wound. It would leave a fairly sizable scar, but she’d at least live to brag about it.