Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth

by Long, Timothy W.

  “What’s going on there?” the President called.

  The Speaker of the House rose. Vice President Biden got up. His lips parted just long enough for the entire room to momentarily be blinded by his teeth.

  Agents flooded the room and rushed to the President’s side, but he shrugged them off and advanced on the floor. He kept speaking into his lapel so his voice carried over the intercom system.

  “This is exactly the kind of bickering and infighting we must stop. I demand that you all quit this! Immediately!”

  They didn’t stop.

  The Congressman from Montana rose to his feet, covered in blood. His hands were claws as he lurched into motion and promptly fell over the lap of the young Congressman from Indiana. The two fought briefly before the older man bit the younger in the crotch, drawing blood – a lot of it.

  A shrill, blood-curdling scream erupted from the young Congressman, and that actually stopped the President in his tracks.

  Littlefield fell back into the arms of Agent Trent as the room exploded in madness. The President screamed for order as the Speaker repeated the same words.

  She held onto Trent as he pulled her free from the fray. She clutched his hands as he gently but firmly got her to relative safety. He turned to assist the other agents that were rushing into the room but she stopped him.

  “Thank you, Agent Trent,” she said as she stared up at him. Her hands were on his shoulders and all he had to do was lean over and plant his lips on hers.

  “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

  The moment passed. It was just as well, since the fight was spilling into other rows. Secret Service agents tried to move toward the President but the melee stopped them from reaching their goal.

  Congresswoman Littlefield shrank into Agent Trent as she watched the insanity. The Governor was back on his feet and on the attack again. His pants had expanded dramatically after he’d feasted on another Congressman. That man was also on his feet and snarling like an animal. He leapt and took down one of the agents near the President.

  The men in dark suits tried to usher the President back, but he ignored them and yelled for order. He yelled again that he would sort out this mess, that it was time to come together and ignore all of the pettiness that had grown over the years he’d been in office.

  He looked regal and resolute as he leaned over and grabbed one of the men by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up. Smart phone cameras flashed as the moment was captured.

  Speaker of the House Boehner didn’t want to be forgotten, so he also grabbed one of the men and lifted him up. He strained, but his whiskey-colored skin didn’t seem to be flushed at all. Was he enjoying this?

  “What the in the unholy fuck is happening?!” Beside her, Agent Trent yelled with wide eyes.

  He tugged out his sidearm and lifted it but he seemed unsure of exactly where to aim the gun. She wanted to beg him to put it away but this situation was swiftly spiraling out of hand. There was blood everywhere and the attacks didn’t stop or ease. In fact, they were getting worse.

  A Congressman from California fell beneath the relentless attacks of a coworker; he also rose with red eyes and a snarling mouth covered in blood. Littlefield fought her gag reflex as the smell of the gore hit her. She backed up another step and found herself against the wall.

  The President was pushed into several Secret Service agents. They grabbed him and started to drag him away, but he once again fought free. A few choice words escaped his mouth and echoed around the chamber.

  “I’m sick of this fucking bullshit! Let me go!”

  The agents ignored him and pulled him away from the fracas. Boehner must have thought that this was his chance to shine. He smiled at a flashing camera and jerked one of the men out of the mess. The man instantly went for Boehner, but the Speaker managed to knock him aside before yet another raving lunatic bowled him over.

  Congresswoman Littlefield was pretty sure it was the Congresswoman from the great state of Ohio that went for his throat. Boehner tried to fight her off, but she was livid. She snarled and snapped and drooled blood. Something fell out of her mouth that might have been her own tongue.

  The pair went down in a tangled heap, him on his back and her trying to climb up his body. He got a hand around her neck, but she arched up and then collapsed, managing to get a knee between his legs.

  Boehner screamed, but not for long. She dove in and ripped his cheek and one lip off. The Speaker gurgled under the attack and then managed to fling her to one side.

  “This is out of control. Good god, what do I do?” Trent asked from his position beside her. The man stared in shock at the action on the floor of the House. He looked like he was ready to crawl out of his skin.

  “Shoot them,” she said, and she meant it. Sure would end a lot of problems in the country.

  “I can’t shoot a congressman,” he said with a shake his head.

  Trent lifted his sleeve and spoke into a microphone. He closed his eyes as he uttered words. She stood near enough to hear him and a chill raced down her spine as he spoke.

  “Protocol Z. I say again. Protocol Z in the house.”

  “What?” Someone screamed back in his headphone so loudly that she could hear it.

  “Protocol Z.” Then he said his name and a bunch of codes she couldn’t really make out.

  An alarm sounded overhead.

  Secret Service agents flooded into the room with weapons drawn. Some of the doors slammed shut and locked with audible clicks.

  She wanted to run as fast as she could into tomorrow; this was crazy!

  “What’s happening?” she asked, trying to compose herself.

  She was a congresswoman, after all, and a modicum of respect was afforded her because of the position she held. She’d proven her mettle over and over again as she worked among the older white men, and that’s what this situation required. She needed to step up and take control. She needed to be the woman that had led the charge during the 2009 drive to put together an education bill.

  “Trent, if this goes wrong, what’s the plan? We have to have a plan. When things aren’t properly planned, the actions have consequences.” She spun on him and blocked his view.

  “Plan? There’s no contingency plan for this. Protocol Z would require a cleansing.”

  “But you can’t kill these people even if they are …” She trailed off, unable to utter the words.

  “Politicians?”

  “Zombies!”

  “Right.”

  The President and at least six secret service agents had gone down in a heap. The struggle raged on as they fought to pull the leader of the free world out from under the mess. Men and women covered in blood moved out in a spider web pattern and attacked. If someone was attacked, they generally went after the person right next to them while the three or four next to them ran right into a group trying to go the other way in terror.

  On the floor above, panic reigned as several congressmen built a ladder out of desks and propelled themselves to the balcony. A few secret service agents stood and looked down then backed away as they pressed hands to ears.

  Governor Perry launched himself at the mass trying to climb to the balcony. He looked like a three-legged monster as he quickly overcame several of the men and women up there. They fought valiantly, using every weapon at hand. Pocket-sized Bibles and Constitutions became projectiles, along with smart phones and engraved pens, but Perry was enraged; nothing could stop him.

  “My God, what’s wrong with him? He brought it in here. How did that happen?” Congresswoman Littlefield couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “It’s like he’s wired on PCP and overdosed on Viagra at the same time.”

  “You saw that too?”

  “Everyone in the room saw that.”

  They both looked away uncomfortably.

  “Good thing CSPAN is off,” she said, and almost smiled.

  Their respite didn’t last long as several congressmen charged at them.
One was a Congressman from Tennessee; he had been a confidant over the years. Now he was a snarling mass of blood-splattered anger. He was missing part of his forehead and his mouth was covered in blood. His eyes had turned white but were laced with heavy red veins. For a brief moment, Littlefield dazedly thought about how patriotic he looked, how artistic the scene was as her old friend moved with such animation, lapel pin of the American flag covered in blood.

  Behind him, however, came the most horrifying sight. It was something that she never could have imagined, not even in her worst nightmares.

  It was the President and he was a zombie. His arms and now equally-long penis were rigid and outstretched toward them.

  “Holy fucking shit! Zombama!” They shrieked in unison and stumbled into each other.

  As if matters could get any worse, a man the color of whiskey was right behind him; he also had blood splattered all over his six-thousand dollar suit.

  It was Speaker of the House Boehner, and he was also sporting an erection, though it was much smaller.

  “It’s like a puffed up Vienna sausage.” She giggled and wondered if she’d completely lost her mind.

  A woman fought free of the mass and rose to her feet. She took off her shoe and drove the heel into the eye of an attacking Congressman from Illinois.

  Congresswoman Bachman fell back a few feet, but Zombama had his milky white eyes on her.

  “I told you he was the antichrist. I told all of you!” She shrieked before he got his hands around her neck.

  “Blurgh Blurgh!” The zombified president howled.

  “You devil! You Muslim devil!” Congresswoman Bachman screamed.

  The president grabbed an ear and ripped half of the skin off her head. She screamed but his mouth closed in on her neck. Skin and sinew tore as blood flowed.

  The two fell in a heap of thrashing limbs.

  Congresswoman Littlefield and Agent Trent did the only smart thing they could.

  They ran.

  Clean Up at the Capitol

  They wove between madness before reaching the doorway. The door was guarded and in the process of being locked up by a pair of Secret Service agents. Agent Trent grabbed her arm and pulled her close. He snagged her jacket and ripped it open.

  She slapped his hand away. How dare he, and at a time like this?!

  “Trust me,” he said.

  “No one leaves,” the agent blocking the door said.

  “Look at her. She’s hurt and needs medical attention. She hasn’t been turned. Besides, I’m the one that called in the Z protocol.”

  The other man looked her up and down but didn’t smile.

  “Fine, but haul ass. They’re activating the special units.”

  Trent nodded and hauled her out, but not before half a dozen snarling men came barreling toward the door. The surly agent drew his gun, but was too late and was overtaken. The fighting spilled out of the room as wild gunfire erupted.

  Littlefield buttoned up her jacket as they ran toward the Rotunda. Hell was right on their heels. The virus was out of control and spreading fast, judging by how quickly the agents went down and began the change.

  The congresswoman kept glancing back to assure herself they were outpacing the spread, but something horrific made her stop in her tracks.

  The entirety of Congress was on the lurching move. Some bore several Secret Service agents to the ground while the rest marched over them. The shambling horde of suited men was led by Speaker Boehner, Zombama, and the newly-dead Congresswoman Bachman, who somehow managed to keep yammering despite lacking her lower jaw.

  Congresswoman Littlefield screamed in horror and grabbed agent Trent’s hand. She hauled him toward the rotunda, where men stood at the stairwells with automatic weapons.

  “It’s a Congress of the dead!” Trent exclaimed.

  More zombies spilled out behind them and were met with gunfire. There were screams as men and women opened up with a barrage of bullets. They had to be horrified at their actions. When Littlefield glanced over her shoulder, however, she could have sworn she saw at least one smile on the face of a shooter.

  The pair ran, hand in hand, panting for breath until they reached a balcony that overlooked the Rotunda. The spreading zombie horde behind them pulled attention away from their escape. They were able to swing over the side and drop to the floor below.

  A pair of zombies lurched toward the stairs and were shot down. Then the rest of Congress reached the stairwells; there must have been fifty or sixty of the freshly dead, and they were all snarling for blood.

  The Secret Service agents opened fire but were quickly overrun.

  Congresswoman Littlefield was shocked and appalled, but she was also grateful to be alive. She looked down and saw the blood all over her jacket. If she didn’t change she was likely to be shot, mistaken for one of the well-dressed dead bloodsuckers.

  A man ran screaming toward the mess. Littlefield squinted and realized it was Senator Cruz.

  He was yelling, “I have to get out of here! I have to go read ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ to my kids!”

  Congresswoman Bachman pulled his screaming form to the ground.

  Littlefield looked away as blood and scrambled little bits of flesh flew into the air.

  “I need something to wear,” she said to Agent Trent. “If I go out like this they’ll think I’m one of the zombies and shoot me. I do not want to be shot, Agent Trent.”

  Trent nodded. They ducked behind the stair case as the military flooded into the building. As soon as the guys in green hit the stairs, they moved out and ran across the hallway.

  Agent Trent fumbled for his nametag and then passed it over a control on the wall. Something clicked and the door slid open.

  “In!” he hissed.

  They both stepped inside. She went for a Washington DC t-shirt while he picked up a water bottle and drained half of it in three seconds. She was a bit miffed that he didn’t try to sneak a peek at her as she changed, but let him stay on the case. He was, after all, a hero.

  Shots echoed up and down the hallway; then it was silent for a full half-minute.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Round two,” Agent Trent said, listening to the tiny speaker in his ear.

  He turned to regard her.

  “What do you mean?” She nervously smoothed the sides of the t-shirt.

  “Cover your ears,” he said.

  The sound of automatic weapons firing went on for a long time.

  Congress of the Undead

  The next fifteen minutes were a nightmare that seemed to last for fifteen hours. They huddled in the tiny gift shop and ate peanuts.

  They’d made their escape and could actually see the outside. Behind them, screams went on as the virus spread. Running through the Capitol building had been a terrifying ordeal but they’d made it. They’d made it!

  Agent Trent had been hyped up on military-grade cocaine since his shift started this morning. Behind those dark sunglasses his eyes were wide open and felt like they were pulsing.

  “We made it,” he said, as he helped her out of the gift shop.

  The last of the zombies was being put down when they emerged and walked to the official House appointment desk.

  “Trent?” One of the guys asked and then shook his hand.

  “Hell of a day, Pete,” Trent said with a nod.

  “You ain’t kidding, brother. I’ve never seen a blood bath like this.”

  “What does it all mean?” Trent asked the older man.

  Brad wore a blue jacket with ‘Secret Service’ stenciled on the back. He was a tall man, handsome in an old-fashioned movie star sort of way.

  “It means a fresh start, I suppose. It means that we get back to square one and have to bring in a bunch of new officials. Maybe there’s a chance that we can get things done now. I wouldn’t say I’ve dreamed of this day but it does feel poetic somehow, doesn’t it?”

  The men smiled at each other and then held hands.

 
“Are you guys gay?” Littlefield asked in confusion.

  Had she survived all of this with a gay man? Not that she had anything against that, but she also didn’t have anything in her record that said she supported it. She’d made damn sure of that. You didn’t get far in the Republican Party by admitting you took sides regarding homosexuals.

  “We’re just a couple of guys that have been through a lot together and occasionally find comfort in each other’s company.”

  “So, gay,” she said in disgust.

  Trent grimaced at the woman. She may very well be the last surviving congresswoman and she was going to take up this attitude.

  “Who is she?” Pete asked.

  “I’m Congresswoman Littlefield, and as far as I can see, I am the only remaining member of Congress. Possibly the only living member of this ordeal. I suppose I should take charge. With the President, Vice President, and Speaker all dead, I am probably qualified to take over the highest position in the land.” She smiled and looked toward Heaven.

  “She look alright to you?” Brad asked Trent.

  “Except for the all the bullshit she’s spouting, I think she’s okay. Say, you figure that virus spreads via blood?” Trent asked.

  Littlefield looked between the men.

  Brad glanced over his shoulder as gunfire continued to pop and burst around them. He looked over his other shoulder, then pulled his side arm and shot Congresswoman Littlefield in the face.

  “Her grandparents felt that one,” Trent said.

  “Damn shame if one of these idiots got out alive.” Brad grinned.

  The two high-fived and went back inside to kill more politicians.

  A Note from the Author:

  This story was satire. A bit of fun. A little poke in the side. If Tom Clancy (R.I.P) can blow up the Capitol building in a book, then why can’t I set off a zombie apocalypse in the same location?

  I don’t hate the government and I have no desire to see it destroyed. I’m just sick of the bullshit and, since I’m a writer, this is how I get my jollies.

  Thanks for reading.