“Phil, this is Rob. How’s the candy store?”
He snorts in laughter and replies, “Jesus Rob, this bust is big. We’re calling it the biggest Seattle drug seizure of the decade. That brick you found in one barrel was just the tip of the iceberg. Practically every box and barrel in the entire shipment has a similar sized brick or bag. We’ve got cocaine and heroin.”
I stop walking to consider the scope of what I’m hearing.
Phil continues. “We even had to send for a bigger impound truck after we shipped our first small batch back to HQ lockup. Shit, this is crazy! Some of the newer cops in narcotics don’t even know how to handle a situation like this. Feels like I’ve been playing teacher all day with all of the questions I’m getting.”
I’m trying to get my head around the size of the find. “Break it down for me Phil – what’s the commercial market for this many drugs?”
“Let me put it this way old friend. You suggested to me that zombies are speedballing this stuff and that makes sense given the other evidence. Even a tenth of this much heroin is unquestionably rare for a bust these days.
“There aren’t enough drug customers in the Northwest to consume this product, not without changing price and distribution dramatically. That would piss off the biggest Tacoma gangs. Even if they were involved, I don’t think they could move this much product anyway.
“My working hypothesis is that this many drugs would be packaged and distributed widely. If people didn’t think I was crazy for thinking it – and don’t you tell anyone I said this – I’d suspect someone was preparing to pump up the entire zombie population of North America.”
Wow. I am floored. I take a seat at a nearby bus stop to think. Dana sits down next to me.
“It’s a good thing I’m not responsible for zombie-related investigations, hey Rob?” I’m still thinking as he talks. “Rob, you there?”
“Yeah – I’m still here Phil. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” I remember one of the reasons I originally called. “Phil, we just talked to a dude named Geeman Chou with Tasty Snacks. He was very co-operative, gave us some information on the shipping company that is likely involved.”
Phil interrupts, “oh yeah, before I forget – I wanted to tell you that all of the boxes and barrels were tampered with, or at least a few of the ones that we looked at really closely. The tape closing them up was sliced open carefully; we believe to add the drugs.
“Clear packing tape was used to reclose each container. It is hard to see if you’re just looking casually, but if you work it with a knife you can peel the extra tape layer off, revealing the original tape underneath.”
This confirms my theory that the Asian shipping company is responsible for adding the pricey payload.
“This is great news to hear Phil, thank you. Do you think Geeman will be able to pick up his food anytime soon, or will it all be impounded?”
Phil answers, “We don’t need the snack food. We’ll have everything we need from the drugs and some CSI work underway. Besides, there’s way too much of it for us to reasonably impound. Some of the guys have been snacking on it, and some of it has been stepped on – but most of the shipment should be fine.
“If he calls, I’ll let Geeman know he can take delivery of the food in a few days – a week tops if things continue to go as planned. We should be done in the next day or two.”
“Thanks Phil, much appreciated.” We say our goodbyes with some good-natured ribbing, and I turn to fill Dana in on all the new info.
Dana calls in the shipping company info for a background search while I drive us there. We had planned this trip already – I know the area and where to go.
Upon arrival, we discover that the address given for the shipping company was a façade. There is no actual suite 303 in the office building, and none of the other offices are remotely related to shipping, or even Asia. I hope that the background search will learn something useful from the local police in China. My Chinese is horrible. Actually, it is non-existent.
Dana and I hang out in a local coffee shop to go over what we’ve learned today, in case either of us is missing something important.
My phone rings. It is Jake, the big zombie cop we had asked to tail our friend in the red hoodie. Turns out he was at the harbor in the morning, working. He got a little nosy around the drug bust, and then went for a drive. Jake followed him.
Jake continues to explain, “The kid came downtown, and I followed him to an old community center that was closed down – used by runaways and bums to sleep. It’s opened up again.”
“Yeah, what is it now,” ask as I stifle a yawn. I’m tired from all of the dead ends we’ve investigated today.
“Have you ever heard of the Church of Progressive Faith?”
* * *
Unaware of his tail, but inside the church where Jake could not see him, the hoodie wearing zombie kid ignored the other options and went up the stairs. He had clearly been here before. He found the main office to meet with the pastor and another gentleman with him.
The pastor was white, older, and wearing garments with a clearly religious appearance. His companion was a little younger, wearing a suit and a hat. His suit concealed a gun.
“Ya’all wanted an update on the delivery situation at the harbor?” The kid commented. He was clearly trying to speak in a professional manner, but he didn’t have much skills or experience in the area.
The pastor’s companion nodded for the kid to continue.
“There’s 5-0 all over the place, and they been filling up a wacked-out cop cargo van with all of the drugs.” The kid shifted uneasily, looking back and forth between them. “You gonna need to act damn quick if you want to get them back before they end up in a big cop building with steel walls and shit.”
“We better call the Chief; he’ll know what to do.”
The pastor nodded in agreement with his mysterious companion.
* * *
Jake’s question hits me like a ton of bricks. Of course I immediately connect the dots with the church brochure Dana had noticed in Craig’s apartment. I’m a detective after all.
“Jake, stay put unless the kid leaves. Call us if he does. Dana and I are on the way.” He gives me the address, and I grab Dana to leave while I’m still talking. She stuffs her biscotti in her mouth and follows me out.
We arrive at the church about ten minutes later, and hook up with Jake.
“Aww, you’re here to take me to church!” Jake is always full of one-liners. He is just like a cop from the movies, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. If Arnie was a zombie, that is. Actually, now that I think about it – he is exactly like Arnie.
We ensure our guns are easily accessible, but don’t pull them out. We’re entering a church.
The front door is open; we can’t see movement or anyone inside through the cloudy though occasionally transparent windows. We let ourselves in. Inside it is dark, but the atrium is visible from light coming in the front windows. There are stairs going downstairs, upstairs, and double doors in front of us.
Dana peeks in through the double doors. “This is the chapel – it’s a large room – but it’s empty.”
Jake whispers, “I can smell something downstairs, and hear movement.”
Dana looks contemplative and nods in agreement, “me too.”
Downstairs it is. I take the lead. I don’t want to look like a chicken-shit in front of Jake and Dana.
None of the lights are on downstairs, and the switch doesn’t have any effect.
I pull out a small flashlight and push ahead. My colleague’s enhanced visibility seems to suit them fine; they don’t seem to need the help of any extra light.
There are two doors in the hallway, the first to a small janitor’s closet. Unoccupied and uninteresting. Dana nods toward the other door.
The door is stuck in a closed position. Years of dampness and neglect have engorged the wood. I turn the handle, set my shoulder behind it, and give it a solid push.
/> “Shit, that hurts,” I exclaim. Why am I doing this manual labor when I have two zombie companions? I have no idea. I’m being stubborn and stupid. Plus, I’m creeped out by the surroundings and the smell. It is rank in here.
I re-double my efforts, putting some more shoulder, weight, and muscle into my door opening prowess. The door gives way and lets us inside.
It is pitch black in here – none of the light from above makes it into this room. The immediate direction of my flashlight gives me the only visibility I have. I swear I can hear breathing and footsteps ahead of me in the dark. I think I’m going to need new underwear after this.
I can hear Dana and Jake split up behind me; the room is large enough for us to spread out. I continue forward, darting my light towards any sounds I can hear, barely making anything out. Is that a rat? Can spiders get that large? Shivers run down my spine.
It smells like excrement in here, or is it death? I’m not an expert – I just know I want to barf. I start panting through my mouth, at the same time disgusted with what I am breathing in. At least the smell is reduced. If there is a hell on earth, we’ve found it.
I move forward for a while, taking special caution with each step – aiming the flashlight down as I go. I don’t quite know where Dana is, but I can still hear Jake behind me and to the right.
Then, I hear them.
From various corners around me, the floor and walls start to move. I freeze, terrified. I swear that my flashlight starts to dim, just now. Really Duracell, now’s the time you pick?
I flip my light from place to place, catching an arm here, or a leg there. My left side, my right side, and in front of me. Then, behind me.
I’m sweating like crazy, and my eyes are starting to sting. Is it incredibly hot in here?
I turn around slowly, keeping my diming light by my head, aiming forward. My eyes finally start to adjust, and they start to come into view.
One, two, three, four, five zombies – all around me. They are walking towards me with arms reaching out to seize my flesh. They are attracted by the light – or fresh meat. I don’t care why; I just need to find a way out. Part of me wants to scream for help, but I can’t get over my fears, or breathe in enough, to make enough sound.
These aren’t evolved zombies. I haven’t seen any original zombies in person, but I’ve seen enough videos and books to know the signs. I’ve read lots of the comics too; they scared the crap out of me. These zombies have the signs – in their eyes and their walk. I’m completely surrounded by original zombies.
I can’t find an escape path, and I can’t run where I can’t see. If I trip near all these original zombies they will pounce on me and I’m history. I need to move very cautiously or I’m going to die, today.
At this exact moment, the zombie in front thrusts towards me, far faster than I would expect. I shudder and start to completely freak out – then my training kicks in.
I grab my pistol, aim, and pull down on the trigger – barely without thinking. A millisecond later as the cylinder starts to turn; my arm is grabbed and pushed to the right by someone behind me. I’m sure the rest of the horde has started to pounce on me.
The bullet leaves the chamber and embeds itself in the brick outer wall, missing the zombie. The strength in my arm is inadequate to raise my gun up again against the zombie. I’m a goner.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you find a less lethal way to protect yourself?” Dana has now pushed my arm and gun all the way towards the floor. “These people are unarmed and mentally debilitated, Rob.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do, serve up my brains on a fucking platter?” But now that she is beside me, and I start to calm down a little, I know she is right. I don’t need to shoot these zombies to deal with them – original or not.
“You don’t need to do anything, fraidy-cat, just sit here while Jake and I handle it.” And they quickly proceeded to incapacitate each zombie in the room, one or two at a time.
Some of them she zip-ties to chairs, or each other. One whole group she simply piles on top of one-another, then puts a table over and around them. They squirm but can’t figure out how to stand up or move past the metal legs.
“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” exclaims Jake as he handles two zombies by conking their heads together, effectively knocking them out. This is followed by a stern reprimand from Dana. He sheepishly uses his plasticuffs to zip-tie them after that.
It is only a few moments later, and they are done. My eyes are much better adjusted to the darkness now. My flashlight is standing on a table, pointing up and reflecting light off the ceiling. There are at least a dozen zombies sitting or lying around the room, not including cops. Many of the zombies are young, some may even be teenagers.
Jake and Dana go through their protein-bar rations, breaking them in half and distributing them to the zombies. The original zombies act like puppies, some stroking the two zombie cops with affection and humming while they eat.
Dana and Jake regroup by where I am sitting.
I speak first. “Dana, Jake, I’m really sorry for my behavior – that was completely uncalled for. I’ve never encountered a real original zombie before, and I had no idea what to expect.” I take a deep breath and try to change the subject. “I didn’t know there were this many original zombies anywhere, let alone Seattle.”
Dana listens, but is clearly thinking about something else. She is livid. “Why the fuck aren’t they feeding these zombies?”
Chapter Four – Faith
The pastor, the zombie kid, and the man in the suit upstairs all stopped talking at once.
“That sounded like gunfire downstairs.”
“Shit.”
The man in the suit pulled out his gun and started to head for the stairs.
“Wait,” said the parson. “You don’t know what’s going on down there. Come with me.”
The parson led them to a small locked office containing a panel of LCD screens. Black and white security camera images appeared on each one. One of the images was black.
At first, they didn’t see anything. They waited.
After a few moments they saw three people taking the stairs up, and then talking in the atrium. Two men and one woman.
“Hey! Those are the cops that chased me and asked a bunch of questions at the harbor,” the kid exclaimed, while pointing at the screen. “I don’t know who the big one is though.”
The woman called someone on her cell phone, while the other two talked to each other. As the woman talked on the phone, she occasionally asked the others short questions.
“It looks like they’ve been to the pit,” said the man in the suit, looking at the parson.
The zombie kid looked back and forth between them, clearly confused by this subject.
“Ted – you two should leave right now,” said the parson emphatically.
The man in the suit looked angry, then nervous. “Damn it, the Chief is going to be furious with us. He needs those level ones. Those cops are likely going to take ‘em away. This will fuck up his plans.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said the parson. “Regardless of if we can keep the level ones or not, you two should leave.”
“Okay, okay,” said the suit. “Let’s go kid.” He turned to the parson. “I’ll call the Chief on the way out Peter. See you later.”
The kid was still confused, but did what he was asked without talking. He followed Ted out of the room. The parson came out, locking the door behind them.
As the parson got ready to head downstairs, the two others left the back way. They exited quietly via a large metal door, headed down the fire escape stairs, and into the alley behind.
“Chief, its Ted,” the man in the suit said over his cell phone as he walked. “It looks like the police have found the level ones in the church. “
“Why can’t you ever call with good news, Ted,” said the male voice on the other end.
“Yeah, sorry about that – it’s bee
n a bad day. The cops have been moving more quickly than we expected.”
“Agreed. If the police keep interfering, we’ll have to accelerate our plans. In the meantime, we need to shake them off. Deliver the package as we discussed.”
“Ok, will do,” said Ted.
“Now we’ll have to find out where they take those level ones, or find another way to scare the mayor.”
* * *
As Dana finishes with a few phone calls, we are joined in the atrium by a short man in religious clothing.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dana is about to charge over to him.
“Okay Dana, take it easy. Let me handle this,” I say quietly to her, touching her arm and then walking ahead.
Dana is still angry about finding the malnourished, mistreated zombies downstairs. I can’t figure out why she is taking this so personally. Although as a level five, she has more emotional capacity than some evolved zombies. Not the same intensity as her original human emotions, but some.
Dana had just finished calling social services to have these original zombies taken in for care. We are waiting for them to arrive.
“I’m the pastor of the Seattle branch of the Church of Progressive Faith, officer,” he holds his hand towards me to shake. I grab and raise my notebook and pen as an evasive maneuver.
“What makes you think I’m a cop?” I’m already suspicious of this guy, and this confirms it for me.
“Oh, I’ve worked with many officers of the law before my calling, and I know the gestures, and the equipment,” he explains, nodding at my notebook. “My name is Peter. How can I help you?”
I wonder in what capacity he has ‘worked’ with officers of the law before. The wrong side, I bet.
“I’m Detective Stack. We found several hungry zombies downstairs. Why haven’t you been feeding them?”
“Ah, the originals. I was about to feed them before our service tonight, we feed them three times a day. They get hungry so fast.”
“You keep original zombies?” I am still in shock with this development, even though I had seen them with my own eyes.
“Well, we’re the first faith to embrace both zombies and humans in the same congregation,” Peter explains. “Occasionally, people find out about our good work dealing with the turned, and they bring the unfortunate ones here for help.
Zombies Evolved Page 6