Jack doubted very much anyone was alive in the motor home, in fact, the inhabitants had already died within it, or had moved off rather unwisely, after the initial attacks which they had probably witnessed on any one of four horizons.
But that was neither here nor there. The Stiffers for Jack represented a veritable cornucopia of scientific opportunity.
“Jackpot, pal,” he said to Walter, who flapped to the Humvee’s roof, as Jack exited the driver’s seat.
He reached for a tranquilizer gun, armed with a potent dose of elephant anesthesia, mixed with a few other deadening components of Jack’s own creation, then armed up with more practical weapons, his AK-47, .9 millimeter Beretta and .23 Glock.
The Stiffers looked up and on seeing Jack predictably began to lumber his way, which Jack had anticipated.
He took aim at five of the Stiffers and dispatched those in rapid succession, rendering them more dead than they already were, he noted with some wry amusement.
The final Stiffer, the furthest from him, he shot with the tranquilizer rifle. It failed to slow the Stiffer down (which really did not surprise Jack either, given that these things continued to defy all laws of nature by even being ambulatory) and thus he was forced to fire to maim.
He took out the Stiffer’s two legs, which caused the Stiffer to howl in pain and rage. It began to crawl ineffectually toward Jack, as he returned to the van and removed some chained netting. He threw it over the afflicted Stiffer, which eyed him with supernaturally red eyes of hate and agony.
“Go fuck yourself,” Jack snipped at it, as he dragged the thing back to his Humvee and utilized the on-board crane to load the monster in the rear. Once shackled to the mainframe of the rear compartment, Jack re-entered the driver’s cabin, and began a slow semi-circle back toward his sanctuary.
The Light Storm, as he now referred to the bizarre light phenomena of earlier, reappeared, as he approached closer proximity to the Dome. He now noticed another bizarre phenomena appearing on the passenger side of the Humvee. Walter rested on the passenger seat, but flapped up to the dashboard, to also view the strange new chicanery of this ever-changing radioactive landscape.
A dark shadow began to parallel the Humvee, keeping a respectable distance of fifty feet. Jack at first thought it was the result of a cloud above, but the sky was completely cloud-covered so that explanation was immediately ruled out.
Like the little Light Storm that also paralleled the Humvee’s trajectory to Jack’s left, the black shadow moved on its own preternatural volition alongside it.
The Stiffer in the rear began to growl and grow restless, but Jack ignored it, more interested in the strange phenomena outside his vehicle.
He activated the gate to the Dome, and entered Eden proper. When he exited the Humvee, he noticed that both the Light Storm and the odd shadow had disappeared.
“That is the god damned weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jack said, glancing at Walter, who was perched on the open door of the Humvee.
Lights that moved on their own volition. Shadows that existed where shadows should not. The carnivorous dead walked freely about. The world had turned upside down, in Jack’s mind.
He wondered if his sanity would remain intact for longer than the next few days.
* * *
His second foray into Stiffer dissection and forensic examination revealed, or rather, confirmed his findings with regard to the first zombie he’d analyzed. The Stiffers had no heart beat, nor brain function … yet they moved, consumed, and were filled with rage.
That the Stiffers were once human, there was no doubt. All internal organs were in the right place, albeit hopelessly contaminated by concentrated gamma radiation, well off the charts. Jack was reminded of a book by Richard Matheson, called I Am Legend, where the hero of that story, a scientist like himself, was faced with a similar situation as his own – trying to rationalize the existence of creatures who lived, but should not be living at all, according to all –
– all the rules of nature…
Jack chided himself and arrested this thought, as he chopped the Stiffer’s head off and threw it along with the corpse into an incinerator. There were no more rules of nature, Jack mused to himself. Nature was being confounded and confused in this strange new world. Guardian Angels existed, zombies were alive and well (no pun intended) and that was that.
Jack realized that the only way he would make it, or continue living, without madness encroaching on his mind, would be to accept what his scientific knowledge already intuited for him: That nothing would ever be the same again in this post-apocalyptic nightmare that he now must refer to as the Late Great Planet Earth.
He decided to utilize his most recent resource, The Guardian Angel.
Rather than trying to find new ways to trap or capture his newfound visitor on tape, he decided that direct communication could only be beneficial to his current plight.
That night before falling asleep, with Walter perched on his shoulder, Jack typed up a letter to the Guardian Angel. It consisted of thanks for information thus far and understanding that the Angel could not explain to him fully what it was, but if it could provide any information on the Stiffers, or the Light Storms, and the predatory Shadow, he would be extremely grateful.
He printed out the letter, and left it on the table in full view for anyone to view it.
His last thoughts before falling asleep were of a monstrous face with green eyes and glowing fangs reaching out for him in both famishment and hatred.
* * *
That night, after her transformation from bird to human, Angela considered Jack’s letter carefully. With each passing day when she transformed, more psychic information was revealed to her, so she was well ahead of Jack’s limited curve of discovery and enlightenment as to the state of affairs in the world at large.
She began typing out her response to Jack’s query and hoped that Jack would heed her counsel.
Dear Jack:
Thank you for respecting my privacy in terms of who and what I am. Let us just say that I commenced to exist on or around the time of what you call Blast Day – or for our more direct purposes – the end of the world as we know it. The Stiffers, as you call them, are mutational products of extreme exposure to fallout. But that does not explain the impossible reality of their existence, when all physiological data points to their being non-human and non-alive. I can tell you what energizes them – what allows them mobility and consciousness – is a new energy in the matrix of our modern physics which both you and I know nothing about. I would say simply it is a power or force of evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. I suspect that the Shadow entity you saw today is also a product of some unseen – and as yet – undetected force that does not have your best interests at heart. You asked if it was safe to explore Las Vegas in the near future; I would answer that there is no need for you to go to Vegas at this time. It is still smoldering from a direct low-atmosphere blast and should be regarded as a Dead Zone for at least a year. Last, I do have some useful information for you: Starting tomorrow, some survivors will be coming your way. Some will be from Ashwood, some will be stragglers who managed to be outside of the radius of Ground Zero of the various nuclear attacks in your vicinity. Some will also come with mischief in their hearts. They will not come all at once, but over a period of weeks. You have the ability and resources to treat many of them for radiation sickness, but some will die, despite your best medical ministrations.
I hope this note is helpful to you. Please feel free to communicate this way at any time and I will endeavor to answer your questions to the best of my limited ability.
Yours, The Guardian Angel.
Angela printed out the letter and placed it next to Jack’s letter to her. She walked over and took one of the blankets Jack had tossed away on the floor and wrapped it around her nakedness. She then exited Jack’s room and headed for the Dome entrance.
The night air, even now at three in the morning, was still warm, humid and sticky. The l
ingering rotten smell of waste and death filled Angela’s nostrils. She looked to the sky for any stars that might be able to pierce the veil of radioactive cumulus formations, but no such celestial sentinels blinked back at her.
As she peered into the darkness beyond the front gate, which glowed in electrical lethality, she could make out a few pairs of radiant eyes from nearby Stiffers. They clearly knew that there was a food supply in the form of Jack, and thus their interest in the facility was high.
Angela felt tempted to go back inside, nab one of Jack’s high-powered rifles with a scope, and pick off the radioactive bastards at her leisure. But she realized this would be a waste of time. More Stiffers would replace those destroyed. She knew this in her heart and spirit. Her efforts would be an exercise in futility.
From out of the dark, a horrible sound emanated – an inhuman growl that was neither human nor animal. It could only be described as demonic, and it caused Angela to back up and head for the Dome entrance at a sprint. The growl repeated itself and Angela closed the Dome’s door, and reactivated the alarm system she had disconnected so she could roam freely outside and within.
She did not know what that sound was – or to what unholy creature it belonged. But Angela did know it was a direct and present danger to Jack.
She went back to Jack’s quarters and curled up into a fetal position at the base of Jack’s bunk, where she fell asleep until early morning when Jack awoke and she once again found herself in her feathered wardrobe.
* * *
Upon reading the Guardian Angel’s letter, Jack assigned himself the duty of preparing for company. What he expected was a slew of refugees from Ashwood, the most logical and logistically feasible point on the compass from whom desperate folk might emigrate from to his premises.
Which is why he was stupefied to find the first visitors to his home were none other than Dr. Mathias and around twenty of his flock, all driving cars, or motorcycles, and at least from a mechanical perspective, seemed not at all inconvenienced.
But it was evident as Jack deactivated his gate and exited the Dome to meet them that Mathias’ people were desperately sick from advanced radiation poisoning.
Dr. Mathias himself seemed to be possessed of his old robust nature, and there was no outward evidence that he had suffered such as all of his followers.
“Morning, Dr. Calisto,” Mathias said, tipping his 12 gallon hat.
“Hello, doc,” Jack said softly. “How are you?”
Mathias looked to the sky and sighed. “The Lord my God has smote the world as he had revealed to me, and myself along with my children, are managing as best as we can.”
“Your vehicles work,” Jack noted.
“They did not in those first few horrible hours. Fortunately, we are well provisioned with mobile battery chargers – things that the good Lord imbued in me as items of great importance and which I had procured in anticipation for these dark days.”
“How are you fixed for food and water?” Jack asked, ignoring Mathias’ religious digression.
“We were well prepared for the apocalypse, doctor,” Mathias said. “Although I was not prepared for radiation poisoning. I believed the Lord would have spared us that, given our forsworn loyalty and love to God’s commandments.”
“Yes, well, radioactivity is probably not as religious as you had hoped. It is an equal-opportunity affliction,” Jack said without malice.
“So it would seem,” Dr. Mathias nodded in assent.
“I have substantial antibiotics which I can provide to you and your people. I can also assist with blood transfusions. My stores are fairly vast,” Jack offered, his heart sinking as he regarded a few of the sicker members of Mathias’ crew.
“Yes, I assumed you would have prepared accordingly for this disaster, though not out of any faith in the Almighty, simply out of a sense for self-preservation and gifted insight into the possibility that God would levy his wrath against a sinful world,” Mathias said, with just a trace of annoyance in his voice.
“To be frank, I did not expect the worst to happen at all,” Jack said truthfully. “It was my hope that Mankind would have acted more wisely.”
“Mankind’s wisdom was never an issue,” Mathias said. “Only its sinful ways.”
“Yes, well, you’re a doctor, doc,” Jack said, feeling new ire for Mathias suddenly welling within him. “What can I provide you with?”
“Everything, Dr. Calisto. By my divine right, and by instructions invested in me by the Almighty, I must confiscate your stores and assume the mantle of leadership to your facility,” Mathias said, withdrawing a Colt .45 pistol. Every other member of Mathias’ cult likewise produced weapons.
Jack cursed his stupidity. He should have realized something like this might have happened. But he least suspected it from Mathias and his witless pacifists.
Walter flapped from Jack’s shoulder back into the Dome.
“Beautiful bird,” Mathias said.
“Yes. He doesn’t like you,” Jack said with some satisfaction. “So, you plan to take over the place and no doubt put me under house arrest.”
“For the time being. But you are a man of the old world, Dr. Calisto. You are clearly not even afflicted with God’s radioactive scourge. Your place is with the dead.”
“So you mean to kill me,” Jack said evenly.
“You shall be crucified and blessed and we shall pray for your salvation in the world beyond,” Mathias said without losing a beat.
“Do you really believe Jesus would approve of that action?” Jack asked, a whirl of options circulating in his troubled mind.
“The Christ rules the next world, it is incumbent upon me to rule this one for as long as it is deemed necessary. This is what has been revealed to me,” Mathias said in a loud voice for the benefit of his followers.
He motioned to three of the nearest men, and they moved forward, and grabbed Jack by either arm.
“Fear not, we will camp outside of your sin-filled installation of science and deviltry. But you will have a guard at your door day and night.”
“Until my murder is finished,” Jack said cynically.
“Your spiritual cleansing, yes,” Mathias said reverentially.
“You’ll rot in your own hell for this, Mathias,” Jack said, spitting into Mathias’ face.
Mathias back-handed Jack, then turned on his heel and called out to his people.
“Make camp!”
* * *
Because Mathias was obviously not thinking as sharply as Jack himself, he simply ordered that Jack be confined to his room, his door locked from the outside. Mathias did not stop to consider that Jack was well-fortified from an armament standpoint. The door no sooner closed behind him and his gatekeepers leaning on the door from the outside in sickened exhaustion, then Jack was pulling out of his closet, an AK-47, a 9 Millimeter Beretta pistol and a Colt APC revolver.
He would have to make his move when the guards came to give him water or food. That is, unless of course, Mathias would expedite his execution tonight. Jack doubted this would happen as the men and women Mathias led were weak from radiation poisoning, and the journey alone from Mathias’ encampment to Eden must have proved daunting.
They would all sleep to be fresh for the crucifixion tomorrow morning.
As it turned out, even Jack’s plan of escape would be altered somewhat, though in the end, Jack would not be disappointed.
Angela transformed slightly before midnight, as Jack slumbered. She immediately headed for one of Jack’s three laboratories and rummaged for a syringe and some medicine she knew would assist her in the task at hand.
She then moved with stealth through the halls until she was just outside of Jack’s sleeping quarters. The two guards that Mathias had unnecessarily assigned to Jack’s room were fast asleep on the floor.
Angela approached the nearest guard, and rammed the syringe into the man’s neck. The man moaned slightly, then fell back into unconsciousness. Moving quickly, Angela likewi
se dispensed with the remaining guard.
She hit the combination sequence to Jack’s door and ran to the computer. She typed out a quick note, and printed it out.
She then moved to Jack’s bed, and put the note on his chest.
Angela then slapped Jack as hard as she could.
* * *
Jack awakened with a start, to find Walter flapping above his head.
He felt his face, still stinging from Angela's open-handed blow to his face. Then he saw Angela’s note on his chest. He read it quickly.
Jack, the guards are unconscious outside. Do not make any deals with Mathias. He is insane and can never be trusted. But I assume you know this already. Yours, GA
“No shit, angel,” Jack said, rising and grabbing his weapons which rested at the base of his bed.
He moved quietly out of his quarters, impressed with the Guardian Angel’s effectiveness in somehow rendering the guards so quiescent. He then moved to the entrance of the Dome and exited.
Outside, tents were scattered outside the main gate. Everyone appeared to be asleep. He heard an occasional cough or retching sound, but aside from that, Mathias’ camp was motionless.
Jack found a dolly and loaded it up with several crates of refrigerated antibiotics and some blood bags. He then exited the Dome and rolled the dolly with supplies outside ten feet. He then backed up near the gate, and fired off in rapid succession, a dozen rounds from his AK-47.
The camp mobilized sluggishly, with Mathias appearing first. He levied a deadly gaze at Jack, who was pointing the AK-47 at Mathias, and the pistol at the camp in general. Had he wanted, he could have cut down every one of Mathias’ group.
“Mathias, that’s medicine for you and your people. And some blood from my bank for transfusions, if needed. I want you out of here in ten minutes, never to return. If you try to attack my facility again, I’ll kill every one of you.”
Desert Angels Page 5