Stone Soldiers 6: Armageddon Z

by C. E. Martin

  Phillips finally had enough and threw his rifle down. Clearly, these creatures were puppets for someone or something else. And the presence of the Stage Threes here meant their mystery enemy had expected an investigation to lead to the Dome as the source of the infection.

  That had been simple enough to discover. Police and hospital reports of the first reanimated had been inputted into the CDC computers and links were sought—and found.

  The common thread linking the victims had been simple—a large percentage of them had used their credit cards to buy concessions at the Sunday football game between the Bears and the Rams.

  Their undead enemy had expected them to come here. He, or she, had laid a trap—one that might have stopped even the stone soldiers. Their enemy had learned from the attack in Texas. Hiding their undead army in a building had prevented satellite detection. And where one hundred undead confined in a semi trailer had proven ineffective, several hundred, armed undead filling a convention center were far more lethal.

  But their enemy hadn't planned on one thing. Chad Phillips was not just a man made of living stone. Extending one hand he spread his fingers wide and unleashed a blue-white streak of lightning.

  The crackling bolt of electricity snapped down the hall—striking one of the undead square in the chest. Even comprised of dry mold, there was still enough moisture in the creature to prove its undoing.

  It exploded violently in all directions as the static bolt of electricity poured into its body.

  "Sprinklers!" Phillips yelled, shifting his aim and unleashing another blast.

  Unlike the bullets harmlessly flattening against him like leaden rain, his lightning-like discharges were horrifyingly effective. Another undead ceased to exist in a flaming explosion that scattered its pieces all over its companions.

  Isaac Jacobson shifted his aim and fired into the ceiling—aiming for a sprinkler head. His second shot found its mark and blew the head apart. Water immediately sprayed down from the ceiling—all along the hallway.

  The zombies hesitated now, many stopping their firing, others standing still, halfway through reloading their captured weapons. They, and their handler, were unsure what to do.

  Colonel Phillips let an evil grin spread over his stone face. Extending both hands, he unleashed a searing double-blast of raw electricity into the wet floor of the convention center.

  Up and down the hallway, the undead spasmed in place as the water soaking their bodies carried a massive static charge deep into their reanimated flesh. Fungus that had replaced nervous tissue and internal organs exploded as the electricity coursed through it.

  Over a hundred of the undead dropped to the damp floor, smoke curling from empty eye sockets.

  "Don't just stand there," Colonel Kenslir said loudly from one end of the hall. "Let's finish these bastards off!"

  The Colonel's uniform was torn in many places, but his injuries had healed from the blast in the stadium. His submachine gun was gone, blown apart. But in each hand he held one of his long Bowie knives.

  Beside the Colonel, Victor had a Bowie knife out as well.

  Chad Phillips nodded and drew his own knife. Nearby, the doors to a convention hall were filled with undead. Their eyeless faces remained impassive masks devoid of emotion, but Phillips preferred to think their master was now just a little afraid.

  "We're coming for you!" he yelled, looking directly at the closest monster. Then he unleashed another blast of lighting that bored through over a dozen ranks of the creatures like a cannonball.

  The other soldiers charged at the other doorways, slashing with their oversized knives, cutting the reanimated in half with ease.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ONE DAY BEFORE INFECTION (42nd Attempt)

  The alarm woke him up as it always did, at 9:00 AM. He opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked. He was home again.

  Kenji sat up in bed with renewed vigor. He had grown tired of this morning over the past few months of his life. Of constantly having the same conversations, the same arguments with his parents. But things were different this time. He had hope.

  He slipped on his jeans and sneakers, grabbed up a flannel shirt and threw it hastily on. He grabbed up his phone and jacket and raced out of the room.

  "Oh, good morning, Kenji," his mother said, smiling as he rushed through the living room. As always, she was cleaning—getting ready for the Christmas decorations his father was even now hauling down from the attic.

  "Gotta go, mom. Be back in a few," Kenji said, pausing only long enough to kiss his mother on the cheek. Then he raced out into the garage, ducking under the ladder folded down from the attic.

  "Taking the car, dad. Be back in a few!"

  "What? Kenji?" his father called out from the attic.

  Kenji didn't hear the rest—he was already in his parents' sedan, hitting the switch on the remote to open the garage door and putting the key in the ignition.

  As he backed out of the garage, he saw his father lean down from the attic opening, saying something he'd never heard before. But he didn't have time for that. He had a call to make.

  Kenji sped out of his parent's neighborhood and drove away from Chicago. He remembered only too well what was going to happen when he called in to report the pending apocalypse. No sense in getting his parents arrested again.

  As he drove, Kenji dialed the number on his cellphone he had committed to memory. Kenslir's number. It was answered on the third ring.

  "Hello?" Colonel Kenslir said, surprise in his voice.

  "Sir? Mark Kenslir?"

  "Yes. Who is this? How did you get this number?"

  "Look, this is all going to sound crazy, but you have to listen to me, please. My name is Kenji Nakayama, and I'm calling you with a very special message."

  "What kind of message?"

  Kenji could hear the suspicion in his voice.

  "Sir, would you please take out your wallet out and look at the bills inside it?"

  "How did you get this number?" Kenslir demanded.

  "Okay, how about a twenty?"

  "I don't like games, Mr. Nakayama."

  "Please, bear with me. One of your twenties should start with the number JE133."

  There was a pause, then Kenslir answered. "And?"

  "JE1339311D," Kenji said.

  "That's a neat trick, Mr. Nakayama. What is it you want?"

  "Look, I know you're tracking me by now—you said you would. But I need to assure you I'm on the up and up. I'm what you call an Oracle—and I've had a terrible vision of the future."

  "What kind of vision?"

  "There's going to be a horrible outbreak—a disease—Monday, in St. Louis and Chicago. A lot of innocent people are going to die."

  "If you have information like that, why are you running?" Colonel Kenslir asked.

  "Because you told me to."

  ***

  Pam Keegan was tired. Very tired. This was not how she'd wanted to spend her Thanksgiving weekend. But when duty called—or more specifically Colonel Kenslir—it meant something big was going down. And that superseded vacation with her parents.

  Pam nodded to the FBI Agent standing guard outside the interrogation room of the Chicago office then took a deep breath and walked inside.

  The young man in the chair was unkempt and very tired looking. Which made sense—he'd been in FBI custody for most of the night and all of the previous day.

  "Mr. Nakayama?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

  Kenji Nakayama's shoulders sagged when he saw the small blonde agent with the large chest and low-necked shirt enter the room. It was not the reaction Agent Keegan normally got from a man.

  "Yes," Kenji sighed. He checked his watch. It was 5:00 AM. They were running out of time. He considered for the hundredth time that night ending this vision and trying again.

  "I'm Pam Keegan, Joint-Interior-"

  "What do you want?" Kenji said. He sounded more disappointed than tired.

  "I'
d like to talk to you about your vision," Pam said. She walked to the table Kenji was sitting at and took a seat across from him.

  "I've already given your other agents all the information. I need to see Colonel Kenslir."

  "Yes," Pam nodded. "I understand. But the Colonel is a little busy right now."

  "In Florida, at Argon Tower—I know," Kenji said. He'd already told all this to the other agents. "Look, I've given you the serial numbers for the money in the Colonel's wallet, and described his office in detail. I've told you about Josie Winters freezing things with her mind, and Jimmy who's a werewolf. I even told you about the stone soldiers. What more do you people want from me? Lives are at stake here!"

  A knock sounded at the door, then it opened. In came the telepath Kenji had met in Florida.

  "Gloria!" he said, perking up. This was a very good sign. "You're a telepath—tell her I'm telling the truth!"

  Gloria nodded. "He's right. I can see a lot of fragmented memories in there—and one of them is of myself and the Colonel. Talking with him."

  Pam leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her large chest. She stared at Kenji quietly for several minutes.

  "You understand how strange this all is for us," she said at last.

  "I know, I know. Your psychics haven't detected anything yet."

  "And you have operational knowledge no one should have outside of the Detachment."

  Kenji leaned. "Please, can't you just check it out?"

  "Okay. We'll send someone. But you've got to come with us. To Florida."

  Kenji was surprised. "Why?"

  "Because the Colonel wants to meet you, face to face," Keegan said, reaching into a pocket. She pulled out a syringe and a small bottle of what looked like medicine.

  "What's that for?" Kenji asked, getting nervous.

  "We'd prefer to sedate you before you're moved," Pam said, pulling the cap off the syringe. She plunged the needle into the rubber cap on the top of the small bottle and carefully drew out a portion of the solution inside it.

  "Sedated?" Kenji didn't like the sound of that.

  "It's a highly classified building we're taking you to," Pam said. "It would make a lot of people more comfortable if you were unconscious."

  "But you do believe me, right?" Kenji asked, looking back and forth between the two women.

  "Yes. We believe you."

  Kenji sighed, and began to roll up his sleeve. He had hoped to get it right this time. If this didn't work, he'd just try again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The first thing he noticed was bright light, pouring into his eyes. It was not the way he was used to waking up—it hurt. When he tried to lift his hand up to shield his eyes, he found that he was tied down.

  Kenji blinked several times and slowly came to. His eyes focused and he saw that a bright surgical light was shining down on him. And he was strapped to some kind of medical table, tilted at an angle, almost standing up, in a white room.

  Josie Winters and the telepath, Gloria were there.

  "Mr. Nakayama?" Josie asked, leaning in, momentary blocking the bright light.

  Kenji was almost fully awake now—only a bit of the grogginess remained. He looked down and saw multiple tubes and wires sticking out of his body. He was connected to intravenous feeding tubes and some kind of catheter. He was wearing a hospital gown.

  "Wh-where am I?"

  "We're in Florida—Argon Tower," Josie answered said. "You've been sedated for awhile."

  "Sedated? How long?" Kenji was feeling a bit of panic.

  "Five weeks."

  "No!" Kenji said. He had failed.

  "Calm down," Gloria said. As soon as the words left her lips, Kenji did feel calm. She was playing with his mind.

  "Did it happen?" Kenji asked, a cold chill racing up his back. "The zombies?"

  Gloria and Josie exchanged troubled looks.

  "Yes," Josie said. She moved in and began to unbuckle Kenji's left wrist.

  "Dammit," he said. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, but the drugs in his system were still too strong. The room spun more with his eyes closed than with them open.

  "You can't end it," Gloria said. "The drugs we've been pumping into you inhibit psychic ability. Your powers won't return for several hours."

  "What happened?" Kenji asked. It was so frustrating. He had thought for sure he had finally beaten this.

  Josie moved to his other wrist and undid the straps over it. Kenji already was raising his free hand to his face. He had some stubble there—he'd been shaved while he was under. But not recently.

  "They checked the stadium like you said," Josie explained. "There were canisters just where you indicated. We had some good people get infected, but we thought it was contained."

  Done with his hands, Josie knelt and worked on the straps around Kenji's ankles.

  "What happened?" Kenji was rubbing his wrists now. They felt sore and chaffed, even with the slight numbness remaining from the IV sedative.

  "Whoever is behind this released the spores a few days later—in Ohio. Another game."

  Gloria moved around to Kenji's side, gently holding his upper arm. Josie did the same opposite her. They eased Kenji forward, off the medical table. With her free hand, Gloria pulled the IV loose from his arm.

  The floor was cold under his bare feet. His legs barely worked and he was sure he'd have collapsed to the ground without their help.

  "How bad is it?" Kenji asked. He felt thirsty-his throat was dry from not having had anything to drink in so long. Or maybe that was the after effect of a feeding tube. Five weeks was a long time to be kept unconscious.

  "We're evacuating Miami," Josie said. She pointed down, below his belt. "I'll let you get that one."

  Kenji glanced down at the catheter and tube she had indicated. Grimacing, he reached under his hospital gown and pulled it slowly free. It was one of the worst feelings yet in this never-ending, undead nightmare.

  Josie and Gloria steered the young man to a nearby chair. A small table next to it had his clothes on it, laundered and neatly folded. His shoes were on the floor beside the table.

  "Why are we evacuating?" Kenji asked. "Are they close?"

  "They're just outside the base."

  A door to the room opened and Jimmy walked in, barefoot. "Shake a leg, girls!"

  He looked Kenji up and down. "Out! Let the man get dressed alone."

  Gloria and Josie nodded and walked out, closing the door behind them.

  Kenji dressed quickly then walked out as well. The room beyond was some sort of medical lab, with multiple doors branching off of it—to other cells for sedated prisoners he guessed. Jimmy, Josie and Gloria were waiting for him.

  "I'm heading up to the roof," Gloria said. "Make sure you three aren't long."

  "We're good," Josie said, smiling. Then she turned to Kenji. "Let us know if you have any problems—we have a couple more folks to pick up on the way."

  The three left the medical lab after Gloria, walking the opposite direction from the telepath, down a long corridor lined with tile and fluorescent lights. Kenji had no idea where they were going.

  "What is this place?"

  "The monster factory," Jimmy said. "It's where we made our army."

  At last they came to a large blast door at the end of the corridor. It popped open a few inches, then began to slowly cycle open on hydraulics. As it opened, Kenji saw it was like the door to a bank vault—thick, with locking pins all around the outer edge.

  Beyond the door was a vast chamber—larger than the dock he'd been in on his last visit to Miami. Over one-hundred feet across, the huge, multi-storied chamber was built around a large pool of water. Fifty feet across itself, the pool was filled with crystal clear water, over which a steel bridge extended, from one side of the chamber to another. Surgical tables and equipment carts sat on the bridge, while bright lights and mechanical-looking arms hung down over it from the high ceiling.

  "Is this another boat dock?"
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  "No, it's the Fountain of Youth," Josie said, pulling a small plastic bag from a pocket of her vest. It was a clear, plastic bag, normally used for sandwiches. It was bulging with what looked like ashes.

  "Seriously?" Kenji was more than a little surprised.

  "Part of the merry process," Jimmy said. He pointed to the bridge. "That's where the magic happens. Where we turn men into living statues."

  Josie walked to the edge of the pool and opened the bag. "I hope this works," she said, then dumped the bag's contents in.

  Ashes poured out of the bag, some hanging in the air, while most fell into the water.

  "I don't-" Kenji started to say.

  Jimmy held a finger to his own lips, motioning for quiet. The finger began to elongate, a sharp nail extending from the tip. Thick fur began to erupt from Jimmy's pores, rapidly covering his body. His face deformed, his nose and mouth stretching out as his head assumed a more canine-shape.

  "It's just a precaution," Josie said, stepping back from the edge of the water. "Just stay back and you'll be okay."

  The Fountain was roiling now—as though it were boiling in one spot, out of sight, just below surface, near the edge of the pool.

  Jimmy was fully transformed now. A towering, nearly seven foot tall, wolf-man creature, with bulging muscles under his thick, blonde-brown fur. His loose pants and t-shirt clung to him tightly.

  A hand came up from the water, breaking the surface and grasping at the edge of the pool. The fingers were long and slender—a woman's hand. Another hand appeared, gripping at the edge as well. The woman in the water pulled herself up and her head broke the surface—covered in long, red hair.

  She coughed several times. "Somebody give me a hand!"

  Jimmy stepped forward, extending one of his werewolf clawed hands down to the edge of the pool. The redhead took it and was lifted out of the water.

  Kenji looked away, embarrassed. The redhead was completely naked, and very beautiful.