Pandemic Z Book Two (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright 2020 Hayley Lawson
Cover Copyright Hayley Lawson
Hayley Lawson Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of the copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected].
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Thank you, Gavin & Callie x
Content
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Authors Note
Chapter One
“Welcome to London,” Captain Petrus said, his tired voice crackling through the aircraft’s speakers.
They were home.
The passengers on board the flight fell silent upon hearing his words. The initial joy of arriving safely had come and gone, but fear of their reality settled in.
Barry giggled softly to himself as the seatbelt light blinked off. Color slowly crept back to his sweaty face, and he gently loosened his tight grip on Lena’s slender hand.
A million things raced wildly through Lena’s mind. She needed more answers. Now that they were landing, she would need to contact her father in the UKSF for more information and an up-to-date briefing on the zombies milling around.
“I need answers,” she told Barry absentmindedly. “Answers and a large glass of red wine.”
“Cat pee.” He smiled back at her.
She looked at him, confused. Barry chuckled lightly at her expression. He was never fond of red wine. To him, the popular alcoholic drink tasted like cat pee, and he much preferred a cold, peach flavored Smirnoff Ice.
“Cat pee,” he said again. “In my humble opinion, red wine tastes like cat pee.”
“Really? And what is your drink of choice then, Mr. Harrison?” she asked him.
“You’re going to laugh at me.” He was ashamed to admit he liked such a traditionally feminine drink. Many people had insulted his manliness over his preference for peach Smirnoff ice to strong beer.
“I won’t laugh,” she reassured him. Though she knew he didn’t like beer from a conversation they’d had earlier in the flight, it piqued her curiosity to know what he liked instead.
“I like a,” he paused, fumbling with his belt. “I like Smirnoff Ice, especially the peach one.”
She nodded.
Harrison looked at the woman he was meant to protect. The grey skinned zombie was calm and had no idea Harrison was beside her. The werewolf virus was effective but seeing Adele as a zombie hurt Harrison.
“I failed you,” he said to Adele with obvious sadness in his voice. Every time he looked at her, he was painfully reminded of that failure.
Harrison rose uncertainly from his seat and didn’t say anything to Lena or Barry as he made his way around the zombies to Premiere Class. He tugged at his uncomfortable collar. It was tight and stiff and didn’t seem to serve any purpose.
He approached his previous seat and pulled his backpack from the compartment. He smiled as he unbuttoned his collar and replaced his current button-up with a loose black t-shirt. Grabbing his ID badge, he made his way back to where Lena and Barry sat in economy class.
“Well, what’s the difference between a hippo and a zippo?” Barry asked Lena.
“I have no idea?” Lena replied, confused.
Barry stifled a laugh before giving the answer. “Well, one’s a large animal and the other is little lighter.” He smiled triumphantly.
Lena rolled her eyes at his bad joke. Before she could reply, Harrison returned to economy class carrying a backpack. His black t-shirt read “SECURITY” in large, white block letters. He was visibly relieved to be out of his stiff uniform.
“I figure if I need to fight her, it would be better to do it in a breathable, light material. It’s a lot easier to move while wearing Fruit of the Loom than a stiff uniform,” Harrison proudly said to them.
“Looks nice,” Barry commented, nodding at the clothing change.
“I want to get answers out of this little bastard,” Lena said, taking her seatbelt off and standing out of her seat.
The scent of oranges drifted down the aisle as Roy applied another layer of thick hand cream on his dry, aging skin. He felt defeated. His blackened tablet lay silent on the tray table. The red dots had faded, and he had failed Asher Brannick in moving forward with the rebirth. The zombies were dead, and the werewolf was on the hunt.
Barry and Harrison followed closely as Lena approached Roy. The overwhelming scent of oranges sprang back to life as they stood over the greasy yet calm controller of the zombie wave.
“Are you here to interrogate me, Lena Turner?” he sneered. His words were tough, and he was afraid of showing them the shame he felt.
Barry was tired of seeing the greasy old man. His smart mouth pissed Barry off more than usual. He couldn’t stand Roy.
“No, we’re here for a delicious cup of tea,” Barry shot back harshly, kneeling on the seat in front of Roy.
“Earl Grey, please, Barry.” Roy gave a creepy smile.
“Okay, listen here you little shit. Stop using my entire name,” Barry spat at Roy.
“Quite a temper you have, Barry,” Roy replied quietly. He knew how to push people’s buttons, which was why he had been so willing to help Asher.
“I need answers, Roy,” Lena interrupted. She was eager to fit the strange pieces of the puzzle together.
“Answers come from asking questions, Lena Turner. If you don’t ask anything, then the answer is already ‘no,’” he calmly replied.
Lena was tired of Roy’s games. “What’s really going on?” Lena asked bluntly.
“Asher Brannick has begun a wonderful new plan to cleanse the world of filth. His ideas are revolutionary. He’s saved the elite for the rebirth of humanity, Lena Turner. You must also decide which side you’re on.” Roy’s words slid out with an ominous tone. He knew fear was persuasive, and Roy intended to lather it on thick.
“The rebirth. Why does he want to get rid of the filth?” Lena asked.
“Only the selected will pass the tests. The rest will become extinct, Lena Turner.” He smiled, knowing he’d already been saved by the A Virus, something he certainly wasn’t afraid of boasting about it.
“You want a superior race? Ever heard of Adolf Hitler?” Barry snorted.
Roy turned toward Barry. “Not exactly that, Barry.”
“Then what?”
“We want equality for all people, Barry,” Roy said.
“Yeah, okay, but what about—”
“What do you mean by ‘equality?” Lena said, interrupting Barry again.
Roy grew tired of answering questions. “Oh, Lena Turner, Asher Brannick and his plan will work no matter how hard you fight against it. We will succeed.” He folded his hands together and smiled at Lena.
&
nbsp; “By turning most of the population of Earth into zombies?” she asked skeptically.
“Oh, ye of little faith, Lena Turner,” he softly said, letting out a long breath.
Harrison had been listening in but wasn’t sure what was going on. “Why?” Roy didn’t say anything. Harrison tried again. “Why are you doing this?”
Still, Roy remained silent.
“Why do they need to be controlled?” Lena asked.
Roy stared straight ahead, unmoved by their questions. He wasn’t ready to answer anything else.
Lena sighed, her irritation growing at his sudden silence. “Why are you controlling them, Roy?” Lena asked, getting closer.
“Look, buster, please just answer our questions.” Barry tried to coax an answer out of the orange scented creep, but it didn’t seem to work. Roy remained silent, unmoving. “Well, this is getting us nowhere,” Barry stated flatly.
Lena stood and shook her head. “I have to call my father.”
Barry looked at her quizzically, not quite understanding why she needed to call her father. “Okay?”
Lena sat back in her seat and pulled out her smartphone. She switched the airplane mode off and waited for the signal to return to her device. The loading circle popped up on her screen, taunting her as it loaded.
“So, why do you need to call your dad?” Barry asked sitting next to Lena, he wanted to know what was going on.
“He’s a high-ranking officer in the UKSF. He’ll want to know about the zombies.” She smiled at Barry, waiting for the phone to load.
Barry chuckled at another acronym. He was used to all the different coding talk, but new acronyms caught him off guard. “UKSF?”
“United Kingdom Special Forces. It’s where I work.” She had forgotten that civilians generally didn’t know much about the Special Forces.
I have to be more careful with acronyms, she reminded herself.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Lena Turner the badass.” He smiled lightly, now understanding.
The phone let out a loud beep as it finally connected to a tower. Lena focused on the screen, frantically looking for her father’s contact. She quickly pushed ‘dial’ and waited as the long, monotonous ringtone blared in her ear.
Finally, the well-known voicemail Lena had heard hundreds of times began to play. She sighed and ended the call, not wanting to leave a message.
“No answer?” Barry asked rhetorically.
“I’ll try again,” she said, sounding a little defeated.
She tapped the call button and held the phone to her ear, hoping he would answer this time. The line repeatedly rang, and she began to worry he wouldn’t answer.
“Sergeant Turner here.” Finally, her father’s familiar voice came to life on the other end of the call.
“Dad!” she cried into the phone, her entire face lighting up as she spoke.
“Lena, is everything okay?” he asked. She could hear the worry in his voice, but there was a lighthearted chuckle that sounded relieved, too.
“I was worried when you didn’t pick up. Is everything okay with you?” she said, rushing to get the words out.
“As well as they can be with zombies on the loose.” He chuckled back at her.
“It’s been crazy up here. I’m surprised we made it in such good shape.” Lena began to tell her father about the adventures on the flight home. “First off, I was in an economy class, middle seat. A bloody nightmare, let me tell you.”
“That’s my Lena Turner, always getting her priorities right! Zombies are combing the streets of London, and you’re telling me about your middle seat. God, I love you!” he said, teasing her. He sounded relieved to talk to her.
His teasing usually annoyed Lena, but at the moment, she was just glad to hear his voice.
Barry looked around the cabin excitedly. The odd collection of passengers who remained was fascinating. People from all walks of life were scattered around the economy class cabin.
Some happily chatted on phones, and some paced nervously. Emily, the lovely flight attendant, was distributing the remaining snacks and drinks to the weary passengers.
“Anyway,” Lena said, chuckling at Sergeant Turner, “there was this man beside me. I don’t know his actual name, but we just called him Sunshine.”
“We?” He sounded confused.
“Another passenger named Barry and me,” Lena told him.
Barry turned his attention back to Lena at the sound of his name. He struck outrageous playful poses like he was at a fashion show. Cheering people up was one of his favorite things to do. There was no greater feeling than making people smile.
It worked. His outrageous poses made Lena smile into the phone. She was grateful her father couldn’t see her face, or he would tease her more for blushing so much.
“So, Sunshine was being outrageous, taking up my space and all that. So, when I went to talk to him about it, he turned into a zombie!” Lena carefully emphasized her words. “I honestly didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to fight him. I came out on top in that fight.”
“You sound like Harrison with all those stupid details,” Barry told Lena.
“Good thing you had all that hand-to-hand combat training,” Sergeant Turner added, and Lena nodded.
“Yeah, I was glad for it. After Sunshine, more kept turning. We managed to get a gun from an air marshal, which was a bloody life saver.”
“What happened to the air marshal? Is he okay?” Sergeant Turner asked. Before joining the UKSF, he had been an army doctor. His priority was always saving lives, which made him efficient in the UKSF.
“He’s still bleeding quite badly, and we think he was bitten by a zombie. He kept telling us to stay back and not touch him so we wouldn’t get infected, too.” Lena spoke quietly, peering around the seat to see the air marshal.
Sergeant Turner sighed. She could hear him pacing. She knew he hated hearing about people he couldn’t help. “You did what you could,” he said briskly.
“We did. There was a medical doctor on board who looked at him, too,” Lena added quickly.
“Good. Did you kill the zombies on board?” He directed the conversation back to the zombies, and Lena racked her brain to remember what happened next.
“Yes, I shot as many as I could. I ran out of bullets, and a lot more came at us. We used turbulence to shake them off.”
“Brilliant idea!” Sergeant Turner exclaimed with pride. Lena could crack even the most difficult of problems, which never failed to make him proud.
“There was a man named Roy, who strangely smells like oranges, controlling them on some sort of device.” Lena tried not to grimace at the thought of Roy and his obnoxious scent.
She heard her father’s loud footsteps halt. “Controlling them? That makes sense now!” Sergeant Turner’s voice was suddenly hopeful.
“He kept talking about Asher Brannick and his rebirth, H.I.V.E., and all that.” Lena leaned forward as she spoke.
“What happened next?” he spoke fast.
Her father seemed more than interested in Roy and the zombies, urging her to continue quickly. “Well, a werewolf helped by killing the zombies,” She replied.
“A werewolf?” Sergeant Turner asked, obviously shocked. By the tone of his voice, the pieces were fitting together for him, but Lena didn’t know anything that was happening on the ground yet.
“Yes.” She sighed. She knew the idea was barbaric, and her father was a sensible man who didn’t believe in real life story book monsters.
“A werewolf?” he repeated slower.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but you have to.” She paused, trying to think of how to talk to her father about this without sounding insane. “I saw him with my own two eyes. Everyone on this damn flight saw him. He’s real, I can promise you that. His name is Harrison.”
“Harrison?” he questioned.
Harrison stood over Lena and Barry, wondering why they were talking about him. He was tall and had to hang his head lower to fit
inside the cabin. His height was good to intimidate people, especially as a security guard, but as he bent lower in the small cabin, he wished he was shorter.
“Yes. He said he took an antivirus, the W Virus. Roy and other followers of Asher took the A Virus. Both viruses give the hosts a scent similar to those who are already infected, so the zombies won’t hurt them.” Harrison nodded, agreeing as Lena spoke quickly on the phone.
“Hmm,” was his only reply.
“The W Virus turns them into werewolves, but they can kill zombies.”
“I know,” he calmly said. She could hear in his voice the desire to say more.
“You know?” Lena asked, scrunching her face in confusion. “How do you know?”
“We raided a lab. We’d been contacting other nations’ governments, trying to get an idea of the severity of the situation. It sounds like many other countries have been infected, too,” he said, speaking carefully. Once again, she could hear the sounds of his steps across the call as he began pacing.
Lena smiled. The UKSF had found a lab. That could mean hope in the fight against the enemy. “A lab?” Lena asked him.
“Yes, the lab had a lot of the W Virus in it. We had no idea what it was or what impact it had on the overall situation. We didn’t dare try it on anyone until we knew for sure.”
Lena nodded gently, biting her lip while trying to understand what her father was telling her.
“We encountered a man named Ellison. He was controlling the zombies on a screen. He just sat there, on a bench in Piccadilly Circus, unaware of everything happening around him. The soldiers brought him to us. He didn’t even kick up a fuss; he just came willingly.” Sergeant Turner was breathing heavier as he spoke, as though the words weighed heavily on him.
“Did he smell like oranges?” Lena asked, not knowing what else she should say right then.
“No, he smelt like a fucking compost heap mixed with the scent of someone who’s eaten too many Brussel sprouts at Christmas. I reckon he was homeless. He hadn’t showered in God knows how long, and his clothes were ratty and way too small for him. He wasn’t in good shape, but he fit the villain criteria very well.”
Pandemic Z | Book 2 | Pandemic Z 2 Page 1