by Jack Wallen
He roared again and yanked out fistfuls of his own hair as his voice reached a fever pitch. The hot air fuming from his mouth smelled of vomit, piss, and rot. At that very moment my brain finally caught up to my fear and reminded my hand it was holding the one thing I had on me that could stop the zombie from making a meal out of my skin and sinew. Before I could run the pike through the monster’s skull, it screeched again and wrapped thick, muscular arms around me and squeezed. The vice-grip around my mid-section forced the wind from my lungs and continued the clamp-down.
I kicked out.
I rammed my forehead into the beasts’ face.
I screamed.
I cried.
Nothing worked. The zombie continued screaming and squeezing. Sparks started flashing and flickering in my peripheral vision, heralding imminent blackout. After that, who knew what the screamer would do to me.
And then, something happened. The beast let me go, as if it had simply been switched off. When the monstrous arms released me, I dropped to the ground gasping for precious air. From the screamer, loud snorts of air released in clouds of steam – which struck me as odd. Up until this point, I believed zombies had no use for their respiratory system. Like their hearts, much of their major organs were just waiting to sluice out their anus in a wash of gelatinous ooze. But this thing standing above me was breathing – hard. It looked down and released another monstrous roar as it pulled out the remaining clumps of hair. The thing stared at me and tilted its head to one side and then the other. What happened next sent the ice-cold waves of shock through my system. The zombie pointed at my gut and tilted its head again. It knew what was once in me, knew I had given birth to something familiar.
The monster was cognizant.
This was a total game changer.
Slowly my hand felt around on the ground, until my fingers made contact with the metal of my pike. All I had to do was get to my knees and, with a forceful upward swing, run the deadly end of the metal shaft through the lower jaw and into the brain stem. The angle was simple geometry – child’s play.
Another roar, only this time the thing’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of the skull and pulled away chunks of meat. Ice blue eyes glared down at me. Flaring nostrils billowed winter’s mist my way.
My fingers hit cold steel. Carefully, I wrapped my hand around the pike and looked down to make sure I knew which end meant business. If I timed it perfectly, I could jam this bitch home without the zombie knowing what it was that severed his spinal cord from his abnormal brain.
Abby something.
Why my brain flew back to the Mel Brooks film, I’ll never know. Maybe it was having a rather large, monster standing over me. Had this beast broke out into strains of Putting on the Ritz I’d probably run my own skull through with the pike.
The zombie screamed and his eyes briefly closed.
The metal of the weapon sang a deadly song as the end scraped the ground. With a single, upward thrust, the tip met the underside of the undead jaw and punctured the flesh. As soon as I felt the meat sack give way, I stood and slammed the pole upward as hard as I could.
The crunching sound made when the pike breached the top of the skull made me want to hurl. I slammed the flat end of the pike on the ground and the zombie did its best maxillofacial pole dance until its jaw hit dirt. My hand wrapped around the blood-slick metal and yanked up.
My heart thumped and thudded. Air continued in raspy gasps. I was alive. Another of the undead horde met its demise at my hands.
The tattered shirt, torn from the dead zombie’s back, made for a sufficient cleaning cloth for the pike. There was no reason to scare the piss out of Echo and Gabe.
“Jacob!”
I couldn’t believe I’d left my baby’s side. Promise broken. There were certain die-hard rules to live by in the apocalypse. The Prime Directive-level rule was to not let the savior of the human race out of your sight!
My lungs were already burning. After my sprint back to the car, I assumed those same lungs would revolt and either give up all together, or leave my body for a less harmful environment.
Jacob, Echo, and Gabe were all tucked safely away in the car.
Small miracles.
Echo saw me, flung open the door, leaped out, and wrapped her skinny arms around me. Thankfully, I didn’t have some strange reflex and run her through.
“Oh my God! I thought you were going to die! Bethany, you can’t leave us like that. Holy… ”
Echo’s words were overtaken by sobs. I returned the embrace and promised her I wasn’t going anywhere.
When Echo pulled back from me, tears were still draining from her eyes. “You’re the only family I have now. I’ve lived on the street long enough my own family no longer exists. If I lose you, I lose everything.”
I wasn’t about to tell Echo the reason I wouldn’t be going anywhere was my immunity to the virus. That information had to remain locked safely away in my mind. Instead I just reassured her as best I could (without giving away the grand plan) and helped her back into the car.
I picked up the notes and the laptop and climbed into the driver’s side seat. When the door gently closed shut, the silence inside the car was a magical delusion. For the briefest of moments, everything was okay.
The laptop sat at my side, calling me to reach out and share the news.
I refrained.
Chapter 15
November 21, 2016 7:05 PM
Zero Day Collective Mobile Headquarters
“Commander Faddig, we have confirmation of Bethany’s location. They are currently in Miles City, Montana. What are your orders?”
The officer pulled off his headset to make sure he could clearly hear his commander’s orders. None came. Instead, Commander Faddig stared out into some unknown region of space. There was some thought or plan germinating deep inside the brilliant mind of the Commander.
The Zero Day Collective was still rebuilding. The process was taking far longer than expected. The collection of enough undead for the drop ships had become a challenge, thanks to the lack of living men and women ready to handle the dirty work. Fortunately, time was on their side. It would take Bethany at least two more days to reach her destination. By then, they’d either have enough undead soldiers or Faddig would have to step into action himself.
“How is the collection going?” Faddig’s voice was low and menacing.
“Still behind sir.”
Failure had already set the Zero Day Collective back far too much. It was no longer an option.
“I want you to dispatch every man, woman, and child we have available to the collection teams. God damn it those drop ships better be filled with the undead before Nitshimi reaches her destination. And just where in the Hell is she going? That woman doesn’t do ‘random’. She’s filled with purpose, it’s what drives her. I refuse to believe she is heading across the country for a change of scenery.
Faddig menacingly crossed to the soldier, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him to his feet.
“If you can’t find out where she is going and what she is doing, I’ll have you replaced.”
The young soldier saluted with his free arm. Sweat quickly formed on the soldier’s brow. The insinuation was clear – in Zero Day speak, replaced was a very permanent situation. Being replaced ended in a simple, tragic foregone conclusion – death. But death, within the Zero Day Collective meant one thing – ZOMBIFICATION. If you were no good alive to the ZDC, you’d certainly be of some use dead. And with the current count of zombies, a lot of internal death had occurred.
“Are there particular collection teams you want to focus on sir? And is there someone in particular you would like heading up the new collection effort?” The soldier quickly focused Faddig’s attention to a task other than immediate execution.
The commander went silent. His mind stepped back to an earlier moment with Subject 001. A thinking zombie. Faddig picked up the phone and called the bio-tech lab.
“Faddig here. Could
you have Subject 001 ready for a deployment in one hour? Good. Have him prepped in Deploy Six. I’ll meet you there to introduce the rest of the crew and give you Subject 001’s mission instructions.”
As soon as the phone went silent, Faddig turned to the soldier. “Give me three of your best and have them report to Deploy Six in one hour.”
Without another command, Faddig marched out of the room, his crisp, pressed suit rustling with each step. The sound of his polished shoes hitting the concrete floor was a comforting rhythm. Though not truly a soldier, Faddig was a man used to power, used to those around him bowing down to suck at his teat and polish his shoes with their thick, pink tongues. His power was a seductive mistress that had him rolling over in bed to bare his ass.
In the apocalypse, no one can hear you scream – especially not in the bedroom with your face buried in your pillow.
When Faddig arrived at Deploy Six, he was early. Not that it mattered, the commander was always early. His punctuality gave him time to ponder his next step. From this point on, even the tiniest of moves was crucial. If the Zero Day Collective didn’t retrieve that baby, all was lost. The future of mankind would be left to chance and chaos – which led to freedom of speech, thought, and liberty. That would not do.
Before any of the collection crews arrived, the lab tech appeared with Subject 001.
“Why do I have the feeling you’ve something planned that far exceeds our current capabilities?”
“Because you know me all too well, my friend.” Faddig almost laughed, which made the tech very nervous.
Faddig never laughed.
“I’m sending out Subject 001 to head up the collection of the undead. I want someone singular in focus, someone who won’t waver and who won’t fuck up.”
The tech sucked in a deep breath to argue with the commander, but was met with Faddig’s palm to his cheek.
“I hope you were not about to question my demands. I will have you amplified if that’s the case.”
The tech simply stood at attention and saluted.
“That’s what I thought. I want you to instruct Subject 001 he is to lead the crews in the collection of as many of the undead as possible. Bring them all back here to be prepared for drop ship deployment. The second we learn Bethany Nitshimi’s location, we’ll be sending in one hell of a welcoming party. Is that clear?”
“Why don’t you command the subject yourself?”
Just as the tech replied to Faddig, Subject 001 stepped forward.
“I await your command.” Subject 001 spoke with a strange, rasping echo in its voice. The sentient zombie stared at Faddig, some strange understanding graced the monsters eyes.
Faddig smiled. The Zero Day Collective just reclaimed the upper hand.
Chapter 16
November 22, 2016 9:05 PM
Spokane, Washington
I drove. And drove… and drove. And for the first time since the Mengele Virus hit, experienced almost an entire twenty-four hour period where nothing of consequence happened. No zombie attacks, no communication from the Zero Day Collective, no mental or emotional break downs. Not even the slightest bout of teen-angst drama was unleashed. This was also the first time in a long while I went an entire day without getting my geek on. I felt completely disconnected from the real world – or at least that virtual real world I called ‘~/’ (aka ‘home’). That was time I’d make up soon. During the long period of silence I managed to enjoy, thanks to Echo and Gabe napping as I drove, it dawned on me that we were little more than sitting ducks.
So the second we pulled over into the usual truck stop du jour, I had the laptop in hand and fabricated a bit of a lie for the sole purpose of getting the Zero Day Collective off our track. How did I know they were following me? I didn’t, but it was a safe assumption to make. The ZDC had been following me since the zero day – or so it had seemed. With each move I made, they seemed to be one step ahead. It was time to belay that.
The plan was simple. All I had to do was log into my server, back-date some files, re-post some blog entries, and unleash a flurry of search bots on my own site. Once those bots picked up the content, the Zero Day Collective would have no trouble finding out we were on route toward San Antonio, Texas. Why San Antonio? The Zombie Response Team. It was a risk, but one I felt had to be taken. If my assumption was correct, Jamal was in cahoots with the ZRT and would get word to them the ZDC was heading toward their front door.
All I had left to do was contact Jamal. But this communique would be sent gift wrapped in a very special encryption matrix we called The Sports Bra. It was nearly impossible to get the delicious contents out of The Sports Bra, unless you knew the trick. Only Jamal and I knew the trick. The message was simple:
J-Tiz,
Inform ZRT the ZDC is heading to San Antonio. Use of deadly force encouraged.
B-Zip
The encrypted message left my machine and had me feeling a bit more confident we’d make it to our destination. I closed the laptop as Echo and Gabe returned to the car.
“Score!” Echo cried out in joy as she held up plastic shopping bags filled with actual food. “No kibble for us tonight!”
I laughed and nearly wept. We had been snacking on kitty kibble for so long I swear I had developed a purr.
“I could kiss you both! Holy shit, is that actual soda I see in that bag?”
The shiny can teased me from within the plastic sack. When I saw that, I did cry. That’s right, I broke down at the sight of soda. It had been so long since the bubbly delight crossed my taste buds. Hope had left the building of my heart at the thought of ever tasting one of my only vices again. But when Echo pulled out a gleaming can of Diet Mountain Dew, I nearly peed my pants with joy.
Once a geek, always a geek.
“B, the place has showers. The water’s not hot, but it’s running.” Gabe’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.
That was all I needed to hear. It had been long enough since my last shower, I was stewing in my own funk. The cold water wouldn’t ease my achy, tight muscles, but I could luxuriate in a bit of cleanliness for a moment.
“Echo, would you do me a huge favor and change Jacob for me? I’ll feed him when I get back from the shower.”
I thought world-war teen was going to break out, but Echo just smiled and agreed. She had developed quite a bond with my baby. That was a blessing I wouldn’t ever have counted on, but it certainly helped me do the things I needed to keep us safe. There were brief moments of horrible guilt that I was not spending enough time with Jacob – but this was the apocalypse and the rules of society were flushed down the toilet. So the care and feeding of baby Jacob would be shared, guilt free, with my sister in arms, Echo.
Who still had no last name.
Curious. Everyone had a story, and a last name. Note. To. Self.
Before I settled into the drivers’ seat for yet another evening of cramping, cold sleep, I held my baby in my arms and gently rocked him. His big eyes stared up at me – they were his daddy’s eyes, so soft, so caring, so strong. Every time I thought of baby Jacob, my heart was torn to bits with guilt. This baby was brought into such a broken world. No one should have been born under these circumstances. How could this baby have a future, when the very word itself had become a foreign concept to the human race. Future? Did we even deserve such a luxury? After our Grande Mal fuck up, does the human race deserve a second chance?
My mind’s answer to the question was very different than that of my heart. But because of the baby boy in my arms, I had to pull the answer from my emotional core, otherwise what’s the point of Jacob continuing on?
Jacob coo’d and pointed up at me with the tiniest finger. I kissed his forehead and sucked in the fresh smell of baby.
Baby huffing.
“I love you my dearest baby boy.”
For some reason, the haunting melody to the Leonard Cohen song Everybody Knows popped into my head. I sang the ironic twists and turns to my baby as I slowly rocked his ti
ny body in my arms. His smile never once faded as he drifted off to sleep. Back into his bassinet he went, without so much as a peep.
Getting a baby to go to sleep is better than any drug. It will calm you, soothe you, and put you into a place of peace you thought you never owned.
*
Nightmares had become just another part of the landscape of the new world order. If you weren’t having nightmares, you probably weren’t alive.
This time around, within my nightmare, we arrived in Seattle and drove the car directly up to the entrance of the underground city. Seattle’s streets were completely bereft of life and/or death. As the car came to a stop, the doors slowly and silently opened. I stepped a foot out into a low-lying fog so thick my leg disappeared up to my knee. Jacob was handed to me by unknown arms. The baby slept soundly. Seattle’s streets were a void of silence.
In front of me was a set of gilded double doors that stood over sixteen feet high. The handle on the doors was carved from human bone. As I reached out to open the door, it effortlessly swung open on silent hinges. Beyond the door was darkness and a warm, inviting sensation, impossible to resist. My feet carried me forward without my brain fully understanding what was happening.
As soon as the doors shut behind me, a massive, wild, completely silent party broke out in front of me. Strobe lights flashed a blitzkrieg display of blinding light. The floor was filled with countless lunatic, undead dancers. In the dancers wildly flailing hands, were flickering green glow sticks.
Undead rave.
Something pulled me forward. I stepped down onto the dance floor, only to find it covered entirely in snakes. There was no way to step in any direction without crushing one of the slithering reptiles under foot. Before I realized it, snakes were overtaking me, slithering up my legs. The shiny creatures had the lower half of my body completely encased. I couldn’t move.