Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2

by Craig Halloran

CHAPTER 24

  Location Unknown

  Nate McDaniel’s life had been rebooted. New face. New clothes. New Job … WHS Security Squad. What a joke. He scratched his face. His once heavy beard was nice and trim with a touch of gray around the chin. In the mirror he tried making faces. He smiled and frowned. Made an angry face and chuckled at himself. He started to sing.

  “Don’t talk stupid,” Walker said, combing his hair at the mirror by his side.

  He still had that at least, the voice. Smooth as silk and sweeter than honey. That’s what Rose had said after they advanced their relationship several hours ago.

  He followed Walker into the parking garage out of the strange building that he assumed had been his home for the past several months. His legs and face ached from the effort. Walking down the stairs winded him. He got into the passenger side of a slate gray sedan with a WHS logo on the side. The moment of eeriness passed as they pulled out of the garage and headed down the road. He thought about Rose’s sweet lips the entire car ride over. He still didn’t know where he left from for sure, but it wasn’t long before he knew exactly where he was. It was a place he had become quite fond of over the years: Washington, DC. Headquarters of the WHS and this year’s host of their Zombie Convention.

  “Stay close to me. You’ve got all of the ID and credentials that you need. If someone says something to you, just nod or shake your head. Security is tight here.”

  Nate wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and said in a gruff voice, “Okay.”

  “Geez, that’s bad. You sound like the Hulk. But, I guess it will do.”

  “Nate smash Walker,” Nate said, imitating the Incredible Hulk.

  “Shad-dup.”

  He rolled down his window and inhaled. The cool air was refreshing. The lights of the city and the nation’s Capitol were captivating. He loved it here. Of course, the WHS hadn't given him much choice. Even if he could live somewhere else, he wasn’t so certain that he would. The exhilarating feeling of freedom and a new life was soon dimmed as an image of Christy Backwater was etched in his head. She had been gorgeous, seductive, and powerful. He could still feel her sticky blood on his hands. He rubbed his fingertips together. I can’t believe she was going to kill me. He coughed.

  “I’m not putting my cigarette out, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” Walker said.

  “Huh … no, I couldn't care less. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind one, myself.”

  “Is that so? Well, help yourself. Glove box.”

  He grabbed a box of Camel non-filters.

  “They still make these things?”

  “In some states.”

  The smoke burned his lungs as he inhaled. He sighed with a heavy breath of smoke.

  “Rose isn’t gonna like that. Doctor Z, either.”

  “I guess they can transplant new lungs to go with my new face, then.”

  “Yeah, good one.”

  Solid country gold songs were playing on the radio as Nate watched the street signs he passed by. The music wasn’t as offensive as he used to think, more soothing than anything. He didn’t figure he should expect much better from a skinny hick like Walker anyway. After a few more songs played and his second cigarette was extinguished, he figured he needed a better idea of what he was getting into.

  “Walker …”

  The man came to a stop at a light and said, “I know what you’re thinking. What are you going to do when we get there?”

  “Well yeah … What am I going to do when I get there?”

  “Follow me. Stay close. Do as I do and say. We’re going to be among your old comrades of the WHS. Watch. Listen. Maybe we’ll learn something.”

  It didn’t make any sense to him. They wouldn’t say anything in front of them. He knew them well enough to know that when they had something important on their minds they would dismiss themselves. Never once did they keep him around for the more important plans. He had tried several times to include himself, but he'd usually been met with a courteous "No."

  “I’m not a spy. I’m just some dude that got lucky, is all,” he confessed. “You know that, of course, and I’m sure you resent that.”

  The car was moving again.

  “I know that … but … man I hate to say this … the truth is, I believe that everybody is somebody. Even an over-glamorized fornicator like you.”

  “Hey!”

  “Heh-heh. You know it’s true. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t’ just like all the other men in the world that wanted to be you just for a day. The star of the century.”

  “It’s a joke.”

  “Maybe so, but you have a purpose. You stopped the zombies once. You can stop them again. It’s probably why you are here.”

  “Great. So, why are you here, then? Have you figured it out yet?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m here to kill zombies.” Walker lit up another cigarette. “And the people that make zombies.”

  “Sounds pretty simple. I save the world. You kill the zombies. Maybe we should come up with a name for ourselves,” Nate suggested.

  “Well, the Dynamic Duo is taken. So is the Green Hornet and Kato.”

  “Hawkman and smoking Hawkman.”

  “Creampuff and Studman.”

  “Milk and Honey.”

  “Better yet, Big Guy and Little Guy.”

  “The Undertaker …”

  “… and Kane.” Nate finished. “I don’t even have a real name now, do I?”

  Walker tossed him a thin wallet. Inside, there was an I.D. without a picture on it. It had a name, though.

  “Rick Jones. Seriously.”

  “It’s all that I could think of. I’m not exactly good with names.”

  It wasn’t so bad. After all, Rick Jones was a hero of sorts. If not for him, there never would have been an Incredible Hulk. The tension between the two men had subsided. Even Walker's stiff talk had loosened up. The man’s dry sense of humor had begun to grow on him.

  “Nah, it’s good. It’s not as cool as Bruce Banner, but it’s still better than Clark Kent.”

  “True. I almost used Chuck Jones.”

  Nate’s brows perched as he nodded. He pulled down his vanity mirror and said, “I can see that, too.”

  Men could easily find common ground with one another if they were willing to speak. Sports, comic books, movies, and video games were all part of their mental playground. The doubt inside his belly about the skinny man in black began to subside. Maybe Walker was on his side. Maybe it wasn’t all a hoax. Keep playing along.

  “We’re almost to the convention center. WHS security is going to check you in. Show your ID. They scan it and your face.”

  “My face?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ve already been added into the database. Worst case scenario, we head back to the car … or die.”

  “What?”

  Walker showed him a thin-lipped smile as they pulled into the garage and said, “It’ll be okay. Besides, you’ve already died once.”