by Jack Wallen
“It’s not really a weapon. I don’t –” I wanted to explain to Gunther that I didn’t subscribe to violence, but, well, considering the circumstances, anyone with a belief system bereft of violent tendencies is most likely revisiting that position. In light of our present situation, violence might be the only means to remain alive. “It’s nearly done. I just have to secure the housing and make sure it will last out in the field. Once that is done we can test it on our subject the minute he wakes up.”
“How will we know it works?”
Gunter’s question was quite a legitimate one, but anyone that has witnessed the effects the Obliterator has on zombies knows how powerful this device can be as a deterrent.
“Trust me, we’ll know.” I sent Gunther packing back to the holding cell to make sure our specimen hadn’t done anything tragic. I wanted to finish my work in peace.
And while I work, a little Zombie Radio to help make the time pass a bit more effortlessly.
“…that was Patsy Cline’s I Fall To Pieces, dedicated to all of those out there who have fallen victim to the shambling hordes. And if you haven’t already fallen to pieces, you will eventually. Decay knows no discrimination. Entropy will take you down just like it does everyone. I have to believe that even the undead have a timeline, an expiration date. Nothing is forever…not even zombies. Let’s take a caller. Zeke, from Sydney, Australia! I can’t help myself when I say ‘G’day mate’!”
“Yeah…g’day. I wanna go back to something ya were talkin’ about earlier. That book, by that journalist…is it real? Do you think some wacko would be willing to commit genocide for money?”
“You’re kidding me right, Zeke? Money is the great leveler. People around the globe would commit any atrocity for the right sum of money. Wouldn’t you? If someone offered you, say, one hundred million guilt-free dollars, how far would you be willing to go? Murder? Rape? Incest? The ultra-rich will pay a healthy sum to appease their fantasies. So to answer your question, I will pull one of my favorite ‘80’s artists out of the vault and spin for your pleasure a little Cindy Lauper and Money Changes Everything!”
They were debating Jacob’s journal, openly discussing its validity and truth. Sure, I should be outraged that anyone would doubt those very moments I lived, but there it was, out in the open, dialog flowing over international airwaves. If Jacob were alive he’d probably say something about his Pulitzer dreams coming true.
It wasn’t success as much as it was a great relief that had overcome me. My decision to share the book was paying off and the world was actually reading the only guide to the apocalypse they needed. My only remaining concern with I Zombie I is that people take it seriously. I only have to monitor Zombie Radio to gauge the public reaction.
I fought back the urge to open up Skype, call in, and give them reason to believe. But what reason would I give? I have no proof, other than…the recordings! Jacob kept his recorder on for most of the last week of his life, recording every moment.
That’s it! I could upload every word, every sound. Just put the raw files up on the server and let them hear for themselves. It’s perfect. No one could claim falsehood when the words were coming from Godwin himself. Reflex tossed one hand to the headset and the other to the mouse to connect to Zombie Radio. The screener answered my call and, when he realized it was me, patched me into the DJ immediately. As the connection was being made, I began the process of dumping the sound files onto the server and linking those files from the blog’s main page. I worked as quickly as my fingers could type.
“Oh dear audience, we have the first post-apocalyptic superstar on the line. Miss Bethany Nitshimi, what might I do for you lovely lady?” The radio personality was laying it on a bit thick.
“I heard your last caller doubting the validity of Jacob’s journal,” I said.
“The world is filled with naysayers. I myself have found a few inconsistencies I could point out. For instance –”
“I’m putting the recordings up on the site. All of them. You and your listeners can download and listen to every second of Jacob’s life from the blast to the end. And for those who doubt why this happened, pay close attention to the confessions of Dr. Godwin. It’s really him and it’s all very true. The man wiped out the planet for a few hundred million dollars. He thought he was only wiping out the Germans, which of course is ironic, considering much of his work was the continuation of the work of one Josef Mengele.”
Dead air. The moment all radio stations dread. I managed to silence Zombie Radio for a good twenty seconds. Those twenty seconds were all the victory I needed.
“Wow, are you serious? Mengele? So it’s all true? The fucking journal isn’t just a hoax?” The DJ’s voice was filled with shock and awe.
“It’s not a hoax. It’s all very real and I may well have found a way into the file that could contain the cure.” My words bounced out of my lips and sailed across the airwaves – hopefully into the ears of millions of listeners. The truth could be just as viral as lies.
“Nitshimi…you are one balls to the wall woman. I’m impressed and, again I say, I am in love. You must marry me.”
The DJ laughed and then played Billy Idol’s White Wedding. The guy certainly has a thing for the ‘80’s.
As the song danced out of the speakers I noticed the lights on the network switch going crazy. I logged into the server to check the stats, which turned out to be staggering. The audio files were flying off the drive. The world wanted to hear the truth; they wanted to believe. But didn’t we all? This new world has made naysayers out of everyone, and rightfully so. Monsters are real, and are swiftly becoming the norm. The stuff of nightmares and horror films has seeped from our imaginations and is flooding the streets of the cities across the world.
And we all want to believe – believe it isn’t real. None of it; the monsters, the death, the ash that fell from the sky, the cause…everything undead and forever damaged. But ultimately, the thing that really baffles us all is the cause.
A man, tempted by greed, creates a virus to end a race of people and, due to a slight oversight, amplifies the virus with a fusion generator of his own creation. And now? Now the films of Hollywood past are made real. The human condition is no longer a single linear path, but a multitude of parallel lines. Human, moaner, screamer, and who knows what else will evolve once they start re-infecting their own kind.
Inbred undead.
Fuck, why did I go down that path?
I was starting to worry the server couldn’t handle the load it was under. I made a note to set up some load balancing and fail over. I want the survivors of the world to have immediate, twenty-four hour access to the truth and nothing but.
I went back to making some notes when a crashing sound sent my heart into overdrive.
“Hello? Is someone there? Jean? Gunther? Sally?”
No answer was not a good sign. I called out again, this time a little louder, when the hiss of an opening door caught my attention.
Footsteps.
“Goddamn it! Hello?” I raised my voice to make sure whoever it was could hear me loud and clear. The reply was nothing more than a scrambling sound. Someone, not one of us, was there and I’m guessing it’s my phantom stranger.
“Hey, don’t go!” I stood up and ran full steam toward the sound.
A door ahead of me swung open. The hallway was dark, and all I could see was the shadow of another person holding the doors open and staring my way.
“Get out of here, all of you. If you stay you will die.” As soon as the last word spilled from the stranger’s mouth the doors were released and the stranger took off running.
“No! Wait!”
I realize danger has become a very relative word and is the normal state of nearly every moment of life now. It was easy to infer that the danger the stranger was referring to was the infernal horde that would eventually surround the building and tear down the walls to get to the one thing that can slake their hunger – our brains. But something was
tickling the back of my mind telling me there was a subtext to his warning that should be given immediate attention.
Before I could take off after the stranger, a powerful arm wrapped itself around me, and a muffled voice spoke.
“Don’t move and don’t make a noise. This gun is loaded and I will not hesitate to use it.”
“How did you –”
“I said, don’t speak. I know this building better than you can imagine. I know its secrets…and its lies.”
I struggled uselessly against the human python around my chest.
“I said, don’t move. Now, I want that file. I want every copy you have.”
“Go to hell!”
“Sorry, honey, we’re already in hell. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“How about this?” I was lucky enough to get just enough of an angle to bring my foot up and connect with his most tender of bits. He dropped to the floor and I ran like I’ve never run before.
“Bitch! I’ll kill you!” The stranger’s voice became a distant echo as my tempo picked up with every step.
“Gunther! Jean! Sally!” I screamed, hoping to get everyone’s attention at once. Unfortunately my plan backfired as both Jean and Gunther came out and at me, closer to the threatening stranger. I had to act fast. I ran to the nurses’ station and grabbed the laptop.
“Run!” I waved everyone back toward the direction they came. “Run now!”
Without question, everyone made a one hundred-eighty degree turn and fled the scene. We made it back to Susan’s room and slammed the door shut. Before I could catch my breath, I noticed Sally was missing.
“Where’s Sally?” I asked, my voice ragged, raw.
“Bethany, what’s wrong?” Jean grabbed me by the wrist, which I summarily jerked away.
“Where’s Sally?” I spat, hoping the man would realize there was no time for banter.
“I think she went to the other floors to find food,” Gunther finally answered nervously.
“Fuck. We have to get her back here with us, now!”
“Bethany, what is wrong? What happened?” Jean insisted.
I gave everyone the rundown on what happened. There was no point hiding anything now that the shadow man had made his move. Obviously we were in very real – and very immediate – danger. Someone knows we have the file and that someone wants it. But why? I have no fucking clue.
Naturally everyone was near panic. But the one constant among the group was we could not give up that file, no matter the cost or danger.
“We have to find a way to neutralize that enemy.” Gunther seemed to drop into some military mode with which the rest of us were unfamiliar. “If we are able to take him out, we remove the immediate threat.”
“Before we bother with the stranger, we have to find Sally. If she’s out there and unaware, that man could find her and do who knows what to her.” The thought of Sally becoming collateral damage made me want to scream.
“Doesn’t she have a phone?” Jean brilliantly interjected.
I yanked my smart phone from my pocket and, as soon as the messaging client was open, tapped in:
‘get back to Susan’s room now!’
I hope the urgency translated. I would call her, but the last thing Sally needed was something drawing attention to her location. Sally needed stealth on her side.
‘And quietly,’ I added for good measure, trying to keep the woman from getting ambushed and, well, I don’t want to go there at this moment.
“I have an idea.” I opened up the laptop and checked the status of the last crack…nothing. I opened up the file I saved earlier that held the enigma code.
Ewdltygflepq
I carefully typed the code and pressed Enter. The cracker went to work. I have no idea how much time I have before the crack either works, or fails.
“What is your plan?” Jean asked nervously.
“If I can get into the contents of that file and publish it for the world to read, whoever is hunting us will have no reason to kill us.” My mouth was on auto pilot as my eyes watched the crack work its magic.
“Unless whoever it is wants to prevent that very thing,” Jean replied dully.
“What do you mean?”
Jean stared at me with a surprised look in his eyes – as if saying ‘You really don’t get it?’ Fortunately, his words were much kinder than his look. “If someone wants this suppressed and you release it, they could kill you, and the rest of us, out of spite or anger.”
“Yes, and if we don’t open this up to the world, and whoever that is gets to us first, whatever is in this file will never see the light of day!” My voice was growing desperate for the crack to work and for Jean to understand my point. The crack seemingly came to a slow, grinding halt, as if seconds began to tick backwards, forwards, and then backwards again. In reality the application was burning away CPU cycles like a fat man burning through a tub of buttery popcorn at a film festival.
“Bethany, think about what you are doing. What that file contains might very well be the absolute salvation for the human race,” Jean was attempting to sway me with a gentle, fatherly voice. But before his voice could woo the idea from my head, Sally slammed against the door to the room.
“Help! Let me in! Please!” Her pounding was as desperate as her cries.
As the door opened, Sally spilled in and fell to the floor in a crying mass.
“Sally, what happened?” Jean, Gunther, and I converged on the sobbing woman to protect and comfort her.
“This man…I didn’t see his face…he held me down…had a syringe at my throat. He said he was going to rape me…and infect me,” Sally gasped out between sobs.
“Syringe? What was in it?” The answer to my question was probably obvious, but it had to be asked.
“He didn’t say what. Oh my God, Bethany! He said he was coming after us – all of us. He said he was going to infect us all.”
Gunther and I put a barricade against the door that Darth Vader himself couldn’t break down. There is no way some fuck-wad psycho is going to crash our party and spike our drinks with zombie-a-go-go. We haven’t survived this long to roll over and play undead. We will fight, and we will not lose.
“Jean, how is Susan?” I asked over my shoulder before I focused all of my attention on the laptop.
“She’s stable. If that man gets inside this room, it wouldn’t take much to tilt the scales in death’s favor. If you’re going to crack that file, you better do it now. The sooner we have that cure, the better her chances for survival.”
I got the point, loud and fucking clear. I gestured to Gunther to comfort Sally so I could return to the file.
Shortly after I turned my attention back to the laptop, it started showing signs of a possible break. I didn’t want to prematurely celebrate, but I nearly wet myself in anticipation. The cracker beeped once, signaling the software had managed to get through the encryption. A second two-beep sound would indicate the contents of the file had been successfully read and could be extracted.
I sat, staring at the screen, holding my breath. My eyes refused to blink as I watched the random strings of characters fly by.
Beep beep.
“It worked! The Mengele file has been cracked!” I nearly screamed.
“What does it say?” Jean said quietly, still standing by Susan’s side.
“No time. I have to get it posted first.” I fired up the wireless on the laptop and…hesitated.
I wasn’t sure. Should I do this? Upload the Mengele files for the world to see? I thought I knew exactly what was best for me, for us, for Susan. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
“Bethany, what are you waiting for?” Jean leaned into my personal space, sensing my hesitation, my doubt.
“I don’t know!” I yelped. My eyes scanned the room and landed on Susan. With the exception of her slow, shallow breathing, she lay motionless. She could easily have been mistaken for dead. As my eyes lingered on her small frame, my mind drifted back to Jacob –
his unbreakable will and drive to get his journal to the masses. It always seemed that truth was his one and only guide. As he slowly transformed into a monster, his only concern had been saving the world.
In that moment I realized that Jacob must have known that there was some broader picture being painted. His focus was brought about by a fear that the bits of information we had were only a tiny fraction of a much grander plot. His paranoia was founded not in fear, but in truth. That was when I realized exactly what I had to do and, without further hesitation, I uploaded the file to the server and typed up a paragraph and a link pointing to the contents of the Mengele file.
And then I allowed everything to stop. Time momentarily stood still. Even if only for a fraction of a second, there was a hint of peace to breathe in. But as soon as that peace settled over me, it was summarily yanked away when our captive monster woke and roared his disapproval.
“Oh my God!” Gunther nearly screamed in frustration.
“We have to shut that thing up,” Sally followed up.
Sally was right, we had to shut the damned beast up before it drew too much attention from our psychotic stalker.
“I’ll take care of this.” Jean had the hypos in hand and was carefully pulling back our barricade from the door. Gunther began heading toward the door, gun in hand.
“No, you must watch this room. If that madman gets anywhere near these women you kill him. Can you do that?” Jean insisted.
Gunther nodded his head and stood at the door. The zombie in the other room was bellowing a scream of disapproval to wake the dead and undead alike. The screaming went on for another minute or so before it was finally silenced. That brief moment of hell-sound was all the reminder we needed that the danger outside far outweighed what we were facing within the walls of this hospital. Inside it was one maniac with a very big knife and gun. Outside was a legion of zombies that had one simple need – our brains.
Jean returned unharmed. We were all holding our breath, waiting for the fallout from the hell mouth beckoning its mad brethren. For some fucked-up reason, my brain tried to wrap itself around a situation that could be worse than the one we were presently experiencing. No matter how furiously it searched, my brain couldn’t come up with any possible scenario worse than this very moment.