CHAPTER 22
Washington, DC
“So … Do you have your checkbook with you, Uncle Don?” Jack asked in a mocking tone.
Don laughed. It was a better than revealing what he really wanted to do to his demented nephew. He cleared his throat.
“Don’t you worry about the money, Jack. I’ve got plenty of that.”
“I don’t suppose you want to increase your wager then, double or nothing?”
Even though Don’s stomach was recoiling inside him, he was still enthralled with what he was watching. The zombie vision was much more effective than he ever would have imagined. The views kept changing in order to keep their eyes closer to the action. It reminded him of all the camera angles in sports that seemed to be everywhere at once. The picture on his screen went from one zombie point of view to another, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the other people behind all of this were thinking. Were they just as sadistic as his nephew had become?
“I think we can leave things as they are, Jack. I’m not as willing to part with my money as you might be, especially when the deck is stacked against me.”
“Okay then.” Jack typed a few more commands on his screen. “Watch these things go! They are so relentless.”
The zombies had made their way into a stairwell and began pounding at the doors that barred their path. Don still had the sound muted on his machine, but he could hear the zombies pounding and moaning on Jack's.
“Watch this. I’m going to try and get this zombie to open the door. They just need to push that thumb lever down on the handle. Ah, it’s not working. They’re all too bunched together.”
“Won’t the people inside just take the fire escape?”
“All of the perimeter doors are sealed.”
“Can’t you open the interior doors?”
“No. Just good old fashioned fire doors. The kind your generation probably made by hand.” Jack chuckled. “The main goal was to keep zombies from getting in or out.”
Years ago, Don had plenty of relatives, many of which he hadn't spent much time with, but they had all been amiable folk. Up until today, Jack had been one of his favorites, but the young man’s callous behavior had him making mental alterations to his will. This has got to be stopped. What could he do, though? His nephew was just executing orders, and he would be obligated to do the same if he was given those same orders. There would be a difference had he been given the same charge though. He wouldn’t be enjoying it.
He was holding his screen in both hands when the zombies made their push through.
“Yes!” Jack exclaimed.
Damn! Don had already watched two of the three remaining security fire teams fall into the clutches of the charged-up zombies. He was certain he would have nightmares for the rest of his life after this. It was like watching a horror movie from the monster's point of view.
The sounds of screaming voices and cracks of gunfire now filled the air, along with the sounds of the moaning zombies. Don felt a sliver of hope when he noticed that the men and women in the room were clad in full zombie suits and were fully armed for battle. The image on his screen shook and tumbled downward, only to be switched over to another point of view a moment later. A man had blasted out a window, drawing a curse from his nephew's lips. Yes!
“Ah, don’t get too excited, Uncle. They won’t be going anywhere on broken legs.”
“Maybe so, but the sunrise is still getting closer.”
“Huh …”
A stumpy figure in a zombie suit stuffed a pistol in a zombie's face and fired. Don and Jack dropped their screens as they both jumped from their seats. Don’s heart was pounding inside his chest as Oliver made his way over to help him back on the bench.
“You okay, Sir?”
Don looked up into the man’s stone face and felt relief. Oliver reminded him he was still a part of humanity. He said, “Thanks, Oliver, I’m okay. Whew!”
Oliver handed him a handkerchief. “You’re sweating, Sir.”
Jack was back in his seat, laughing. “That was awesome! Hey Oliver, you need to go. You can’t see this. I’ll take care of Uncle Don. You just keep his coffee warm. It’ll be over soon.”
Don didn’t like the condescending tone in his nephew’s voice.
“Oliver works for me, not you, Jack. Mind your tongue.”
“Yeah, whatever …”
“I’m alright, Oliver. Best you go.”
Oliver frowned as he glanced over at Jack before he walked away.
“I hope you don’t treat most people that way,” Don said.
Jack didn’t respond, his face was intent on his screen.
Don picked his computer up with a sigh. Two more figures were no longer in the room he viewed, leaving only two standing. One was a large man, he figured, based off the view he had of the zombies looking up. A shotgun was blasting into all of them. He heard the large man yell, “Henry, go! Take care of the others!”
Ah … Henry Bawkula lives. A thrill went through him. He knew enough about Henry to know that he was a capable man. Don had seen all the footage from what happened at WHS Facility 111, the Zombie Day Care. I wonder if he’s still with that Italian girl who lost her arm. She was something. The big man in the room was holding off the zombies when Henry jumped from the window. The butt of a rifle slammed into his screen, causing his finger tips to tingle. The view was gone.
“Dammit!” Jack cried, shaking his screen like an angry child.
Don chuckled. “Time's ticking.”
Another view popped up that was closing in on the big man tossing away his shotgun and reaching for another. Jack was pounding his hand into his screen. “I think we lost sound. Damn. I wanted hear this big man scream!”
Don felt a chill as he watched the throng of zombies rush after the man.
Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2 Page 22