Jane Zombie Chronicles Box Set Books 4-6: Crisis Cell, Ominous Ordeal, Running Rampant (Jane Zombie Box Set Book 2)

by Gayle Katz

  “Hey! Where am I?” I demand.

  No answer.

  “Hello? Hello! Who are you? Where am I?”

  Still no response.

  I hear a door slam closed and what sounds like papers falling to the floor. Then nothing. Silence.

  “I know someone is here. Answer me, damn it!”

  I close my eyes to give them a brief rest. I inhale deeply to keep my calm and center myself. When I open my eyes, I can see the room I’m in is just like all the others in this crap hole: dank, dirty, and utterly depressing. My neck is still throbbing and the pain in my left arm is getting worse. I turn my head and look down to see a puncture mark on the inner part of my left arm. It looks like a little red pinprick. I may not have even noticed it, but the amount of pain emanating from that red dot on my arm is excruciating.

  “What did you do to me?” I shout, holding back sobs from the intense pain.

  “Jane,” I hear over a speaker system. “Relax, Jane,” the mysteriously mechanical voice continues. “Follow instructions. Do what we say. And we won’t hurt you.”

  “You won’t hurt me? You’ve already done that,” I reply. “What do you call what you’re doing now? What did you do to my arm?”

  “Focus, Jane. Every moment you waste is one less moment for your precious Jack.”

  “Tell me how to find him. Tell me how to find Jack.”

  “Soon. Before we get to Jack, you need to get something for us.”

  “No. Just tell me where I can find Jack.”

  “Focus, Jane. Focus.”

  “No!”

  “You’ve got to focus and help us or else Jack will die.”

  “No. No. No. Why are you doing this?”

  “I know you don’t want him to die.”

  “What do you want from us?” I ask.

  “That’s better,” the voice replies. “We need you to go deep into the wasteland, break into a facility, and get something for us.”

  “You mean steal something?”

  “No, I mean return. You can’t steal something if it was already stolen, but call it anything you like. We don’t care. What we do care about is getting our property back and that’s what you’re going to do if you want to see Jack again.”

  “But-but I’m not a thief. I don’t know how to steal anything.”

  “You’re a smart woman, right? You’ll learn.”

  “What? How am I supposed to learn? I don’t have any money. I don’t have weapons. I don’t even know where I’m going. If you know what you want and where to get it, why don’t you get it yourself?”

  “Let’s look at this logically,” the voice says. “You’re expendable, Jane. We are not. Besides, you don’t have a choice. Jack’s life depends on it. Are you in? Or, will you let your precious Jack die?”

  “How do I know he’s even still alive?” I ask.

  “You don’t. I guess you have to take my word that he’s alive, for now.”

  “For now?”

  “If you don’t follow instructions, Jack is dead. If you give us a hard time, Jack is dead. I hope you’re beginning to understand.”

  “Please, please, please don’t kill him.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

  “Good. Good. Good. Glad you’re part of the team. On the floor, you’ll find pictures of the item we want returned to us. Take them with you. Study them carefully. I don’t have to remind you what’s depending on it.”

  “Do you expect me to get started tied to a chair?” I ask, pulling at my bonds and wobbling in the chair.

  “Of course not. You’ve got attitude. You’re gonna need it. We’ll release you from your restraints and provide you with information, weapons, and money to help you accomplish your mission. One warning, though. Don’t screw with us. We injected your neck with a tracker. We’ll be monitoring you. Step out of line and Jack is as good as dead…and so are you.”

  “There’s no need to threaten. I’m going to do what you asked.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before. What else can you tell me about this mission?”

  “Hope that you’re immune, baby… It might be the only thing that saves your life and Jack’s.”

  The bright lights cut out and I’m surrounded in darkness again. I hear a door open and then see the crack of light from the hallway. Someone cuts whatever is binding me to the chair, grabs me, and drags me back to the main bar area. It’s the mean-looking bouncer guy from earlier. He throws me to the floor along with a burlap sack and the pictures of what I’m supposed to retrieve.

  “Time for you to go,” the man towering above me says.

  I look up at him.

  “Go!” he shouts.

  “All right. All right.”

  I inhale deeply and pick up the bag. It’s quite heavy and prickly to the touch. I throw it over my back and make my way out of the strip club.

  As soon as I exit, I lean against the building to compose myself. I close my eyes for a moment to summon my second wind. The stress of the situation is zapping my strength. I think back to the conversation that I just had. While I don’t hate many people, sick douchebags who threaten Jack’s life are high on the list. Even though the person’s voice was altered, whomever I was talking to didn’t sound native to this area. Despite the crap he or she was saying, I could understand them better. I didn’t have to concentrate as much on their words. My brain wants to figure out this puzzle, but my thoughts are a bit scattered, my body aches from being tossed around, and I don’t have time for games right now. I have to get going.

  I open my eyes again quickly. I’m not sure of these surroundings, and since I already had one bag stolen from me, I have to hold on to this one.

  On the street, I look both ways, unsure which way to go. Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. What the hell is happening? What am I doing? Why did Chris send me half way around the world to this godforsaken place? I look down at my still throbbing arm and see the small red dot staring back at me, mocking me. My neck aches. I feel it. There’s a bump. For a moment, I wonder if I’m already dead. Is my fate already sealed?

  Enough of the self-pity talk. I have to get moving, but get moving where? I open the bag and dig out a map the Rat gave me. Crap. I don’t know which way is north, so I still don’t know which way to go. I stuff the map back into the bag. I walk down the road to get a feeling for my surroundings, but the heat is unbearable. That, combined with the alcohol still in my system, is slowing me down. I flag down another taxi, open the door, lower my head so I can peek inside, and see the same jackass who dropped me off behind the wheel. This is too much of a coincidence.

  “What are you still doing here?” I ask.

  “I thought you might need some help,” the cabbie replies.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t think you belong here.”

  “Yeah. I know. I feel the same way.”

  “Just get in and tell me where you need to go.”

  “Are you following me?”

  “Let me help you, little girl. Stop asking questions.”

  “Fine.” I reluctantly get into his cab and close the door behind me. I don’t have many options right now. He turns around and waits for further instructions.

  I again grab the crinkled map out of my bag, smooth it out, and together he and I figure out we need to go deep into the heart of the infected area. It helps that someone kindly circled my destination on the map.

  “This is not a good area,” the cabbie says, pointing to the map.

  “Worse than here?”

  “Yes. Much.”

  “Great.”

  “You can take the map back. I don’t need it,” he says. “A woman shouldn’t be traveling alone in these parts. It’s dangerous. But don’t worry. I will take you.” The cab begins moving.

  “Thank you.”

/>   “You’re welcome. My name is Youssef.”

  “Jane.”

  I sigh, lean back in his smelly cab again, and decide to go through the supplies in my bag. I turn the bag upside down and dump its contents on the seat next to me; a knife, a pistol, a rolled up wad of money, a flashlight, and pictures of an odd object, what the Rat is after, fall out. I pick up the cash first. It’s not in dollars and I don’t recognize the currency, so I’m not sure how much I have or how long it’ll last me.

  I poke my head into the front seat. “I have money now, so I can pay you.”

  “Keep it,” he replies.

  “Keep it?”

  “Yes. I think you’re gonna need it more than I do.”

  “And why would you say that?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Who’s paying you, then?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “That’s the second time you said that. C’mon, man. What’s goin’ on here?”

  He ignores me and keeps driving.

  Focusing my attention back on the contents of the bag, I pull the military knife, like the one I’ve seen Chris carry, from its sheath and examine it. It’s bigger than a steak knife, but smaller than a sword. It has a good, rubbery grip to it. One side is a smooth sharp blade. The other is jagged. I imagine it can do some serious damage. Before I slip it back into its sheath for safekeeping and pick up the handgun, Youssef reacts to my display.

  “It looks like you came prepared for a fight. Let me offer you some advice. If you want to hold on to your things, keep them hidden. And, I’m not sure why you’re here, but be prepared to face people who are much better armed than you.”

  “Thanks.”

  In the cab, I keep the revolver low so no one can see what’s in my hand. It’s small and silver, perfect for smaller hands. When I take a closer look at it, all of the markings have been scratched off. I guess someone doesn’t want anyone to trace it. Guaranteed it’s stolen. Great.

  As I’m holding the small revolver, I hear screaming from outside. I look out of the back passenger side window to get a glimpse of what’s happening. People are running across the lanes of traffic. Some of them start pounding on the outside of the cab with their fists trying to get in, their distorted faces pressing up against the windows.

  I hurry to put everything back into the bag and pull the cord to close the opening for safekeeping. “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t see anything. They’re blocking my view and running in front of the cab. I’m gonna have to run them over if they don’t get out of the way.”

  “Run over them? No. No. No. They’re people, man. You can’t do that!”

  “Too late.”

  The taxi jumps ahead as my mysterious cab driver topples the people immediately in front of us. I cover my eyes with my hands as I feel the car lurch forward. I open my eyes, look around, and see a clear path in front of us.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” I mutter to myself. “We ran over innocent people.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re fine,” Youssef says.

  “We’re fine, but what about the people you hit? What’s wrong with you? You probably killed them. How are you OK with that?”

  “They shouldn’t be in the middle of the road. Why would people just run in front like that?”

  With a clear line of sight on all sides of the cab now, I peer out and see the mob of people rushing away from the cab. I look back and see a huge tractor-trailer truck heading for us.

  “Look out!” I shout. “Hit the g—”

  Chapter 9

  ________________________________________

  Before I can finish my sentence, the oversized truck crashes into us. The impact of the big truck on our little cab is disastrous. The collision violently throws me against the other side of the car. I bang my head on the window and it shatters, sending glass shards everywhere.

  The speed and the force of the truck’s impact almost crushes the car in half as it continues to push us off the road. Eventually the vehicles come to a stop.

  The truck has crumpled our little car so much that I can feel the intense heat of the truck engine against my skin. It’s a good thing I was tossed to the other side of the car, but my driver isn’t so lucky. I can see he’s partially jammed between the truck and the center console of the cab.

  In a daze from hitting my head, I grab for one of the front seat headrests to pull myself up. Once on my feet again, I reach over to the cabbie to see if he’s okay. I touch his shoulder. He’s not moving. I shake him. He’s still not moving.

  “Please don’t be dead. Please wake up. Please don’t be dead,” I mumble as I shake him again. “Jesus Christ. Could this day possibly get worse?”

  My ears adjust and I hear footsteps outside—a lot of them. Not knowing what’s happening or what to do next, I try to stay quiet, hunker down, and listen. Aside from the steam and hot air releasing from the front of the truck, I begin to hear horrible retching and groaning noises outside. And they’re getting louder, closer. My heart beats faster and faster. Whatever is happening out there, I can’t stay here. What if the vehicles explode? I have to get out.

  “Youssef? Youssef!” I shout to try to wake him up one more time to no avail. He’s not moving. He’s either dead or needs serious medical attention. I attempt to move him in order to take him with me, but he’s a big guy and he’s pinned inside the cab. He won’t budge. “I’ll try to come back and bring help with me,” I whisper in his ear, just in case he can hear me.

  As I turn my attention back to escaping from this wreck, I notice the doors are bent and mangled from the accident. I can’t open them. The windows are cracked and broken, but seem to be the only way I can slip out of the car. It’s a good thing this car is old and has traditional window cranks where all you need is a little elbow grease to roll a window down. Electric windows may have shorted out because of the crash.

  I start to roll down the window, but it gets stuck halfway. I sit on the backseat and I use my shoe to kick out the rest of the broken window. Careful not to cut myself on the mess of busted glass on the backseat and the shards stuck in the window frame, I peek my head out and up slowly. I see the tractor trailer that smashed into us up close. The truck’s driver is still in his cab, but his face is down on the steering wheel. He looks dead. I’d go over to help him, but my attention is drawn to the stream of zombies pouring out of the back of his truck.

  Immediately, my heart sinks. I have to get out of here and I have to do it fast. It’s only a matter of moments before the zombies pick up my scent and come hunting for food.

  Who’s transporting zombies anyway? And why the hell would anyone do that? Is that why Jack was captured? Did he discover something he shouldn’t have? I brush off those questions for right now. I can’t afford any distractions if I want to get out alive.

  Amidst the deteriorating situation around me, I toss my bag out of the window and then ease myself out of the same window, careful not to impale myself on the cracked glass. I manage to get out unscathed.

  I then duck down, still hiding behind the car, so no one can see me, but this false sense of security may only last a few moments. Looking around to plan my next move, all I see is sand, the road ahead, and what might have been a city’s worth of buildings, now destroyed and reduced to rubble.

  Focusing on my next steps, I ignore my initial reaction to freak out. If I go slowly and head into the maze of burned out buildings, maybe they won’t notice me. Using the cab as cover to keep out of sight for as long as possible, I tiptoe between two condemned buildings and into the little city to get away from the snarling zombies running amok. I take a quick peek behind me and see that none of them are following. I can’t rest. I need to put as much distance between them and me as possible. Relieved not to have to outrun the zombies in the local vicinity, I turn around and start to explore.

  Walking through the abandoned streets of whatever town this was is eer
ie. There should be people here, but there’s nothing. It’s so quiet. I can hear the gravel under my shoes crunch with every step. I’d probably be able to hear the wind if there were any. And damn, it’s hot. I mean really hot. I can feel the sun burning my exposed skin. I should find some shade in one of these buildings, but I can’t stop. I still need to get to my destination, but I don’t have a vehicle and I don’t even know what direction I’m headed.

  Stay positive, Jane, I tell myself. Nothing good comes from negativity. Giving up isn’t an option. Jack is depending on me. Thinking about Jack keeps me going.

  I keep searching around. I’ve walked at least a couple blocks by now and still nothing. I see building after building completely or partially destroyed. In some spots, I see makeshift houses constructed from the debris. I get close to one and peek my head inside. No one.

  The intense sun beating down starts to give me a pounding headache. OK. I have to take a break or else I’m going to die out here. I’ll rest in the next building I see that doesn’t look like it’s going to collapse. Maybe I’ll find some supplies people left behind.

  Cautiously, I step into the next decrepit building. It’s dark and scary and it smells musty. As I explore deeper inside, I hear my shoe touch something squishy. I hold my breath and hope it’s not alive. I freeze and my hands search for the flashlight in my bag. My fingers find it, pull it out, and flick it on. As I point it around the room, my heart sinks.

  The scene looks like someone’s last stand. People decapitated. Limbs severed from bodies. Large pools of dried black blood cover the floor. I point the flashlight to my feet and see I’m stepping on one of the dead. I feel sick to my stomach. I have to get out of here. I back out the way I came, oddly thankful to be back in the blazing hot sun again.

  I make it around the corner to the next block and spot another building to enter and explore. It actually doesn’t look that bad. The outside of the building looks as though it’s made from concrete. Parts of it are stained brown and black from I’m not sure what. An explosion maybe?