Zombie Lockup Series (Book 1): Caged 1

by Buda, Chuck

  “Just to be sure everyone is on the same page, I’m going to leave you with a little reminder of the seriousness behind my message.” Muncie raised the baton above his head with two hands. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His eyes grew wide with rage before striking down on Jack’s body.

  “Wait.”

  Muncie held up as he began to swing down on the prone man. The voice came from behind Muncie. The prisoners spun to see who had interrupted the impending beating. The Warden stood at the entrance to C-Pod. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his gray suit pants.

  “Bring Mr. Turk to my office. I’d like to have a chat with him.”

  Muncie looked aggravated. He didn’t appear to be happy with the intrusion. “But, sir...”

  “Now.”

  The word echoed with finality and the demand for obedience. Muncie grimaced and stared down at Jack. He lost his chance to lay the wood and Jack knew it burned up his nemesis. He decided to throw grease on the fire. Jack grinned up at Muncie. Then he extended his hand as if he wanted Muncie to help him up off the floor.

  Muncie straightened his uniform jacket and strode in the direction of the door. As he approached Warden Gorgon, he shot an angry glance at his boss. The Warden held his right arm in front of Muncie to stop him.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” The voice was low enough only Muncie could hear it. The guard turned on his heels. He pointed at Jack with his baton.

  “Crawford. Bring Turk.”

  Muncie stared into the Warden’s eyes before continuing past him to the hallway. Warden Gorgon watched Crawford shepherd Turk to the door. He nodded quietly at the prisoners who watched the action take place. Then he walked out of C-Pod ahead of the rest of the security guards. Jonas was the last one to leave C-Pod. He slammed the door shut and keyed the lock.

  Chapter 9

  Jack spit another wad of blood on the floor. He winced from the pain and hoped that the blood was from the punches to the face rather than an internal injury. He could hear Muncie panting above him.

  Crawford and Muncie had walked Jack to the Warden’s office. The walk had been uneventful. Jack thought he would actually get a chance to air some grievances with the Warden. Now he realized that was a huge miscalculation on his part.

  As soon as they closed the office door, Muncie dropped Jack with a baton blast to the back of his legs. Several more jabs to his lower back left him gasping for breath. But that wasn’t enough. Muncie pulled Jack’s head up by the hair and punched him in the face several times. Jack felt a loose molar with his tongue.

  The Warden stood by quietly as Muncie had his way with Jack. The expressionless face seemed neither to be bothered by the beating nor taking pleasure from its results. He leaned against his desk with folded arms. Each time Jack rolled over to catch a glance of the Warden, the man’s eyes were fixed on his own.

  “Sorry for the welcome wagon, Mr. Turk. But I can’t have dissension in the ranks. I’m sure you understand.”

  Jack stopped himself from shooting off his mouth. He had a quip all lined up but he figured this would be one of those times when he should just shut up.

  “I know you are the leader in the pod. Admittedly or not, the prisoners look to you as an example. You set the tone, if you will.”

  Jack swabbed the blood from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the dark crimson on his fingertips and tried to catch his breath. The coolness of the tile floor felt comforting to his pounding headache.

  “Therefore, I am going to give you an opportunity I would not provide anyone else.” The Warden squatted down on his haunches to look into Jack’s eyes.

  “I’m touched, Warden. You need me.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, Muncie kicked Jack’s stomach. The little air his lungs had re-acquired rushed out of his body. The Warden shook his head at Muncie, silently telling him to lay off. Warden Gorgon stood and paced back to his desk. He sat in the chair and extended his arm to the chair before him. Jack’s eyes bulged from their sockets from being winded. He wanted to move to the chair but was rooted to the floor. Muncie quickly solved the problem by grabbing Jack’s neck and tossing him into the chair.

  Warden Gorgon nodded and Muncie backed up to the door. “I do need you, Mr. Turk. In a manner of speaking.”

  Jack struggled to keep his head up.

  “Things are changing and I need to ensure the safety of everyone in the prison.”

  “You mean the virus?” Jack barely whispered through gasps for air.

  Warden Gorgon glanced at Muncie and then returned his gaze to Jack. “Well, word travels fast. Yes, I mean the virus.”

  Jack rested his hands on his knees to support his slouched posture. His headache made it difficult to keep his eyes open. The bright light streaming through the window behind the Warden’s desk was like looking directly into the sun.

  “What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can call any shots in this place.” Jack stole a quick look at Muncie to see if another beating was headed his way. Muncie just grinned at Jack. A black twinkle in his eyes signaled his enjoyment.

  “You can keep the prisoners calm. Make sure things maintain...a certain order.”

  Jack sat up a little straighter as his breath came back. His ribs felt like a side of beef in an old boxing movie. “But there are four pods. I’m only in C-Pod.”

  “I’m aware of the logistics, Mr. Turk. After all, I DO run this prison.” The Warden steepled his fingers and continued on without hesitation. “Your job is to maintain the peace in C-Pod. I have other plans concerning the rest of the prison.”

  “Plans? What kind of plans?” Jack glanced over his shoulder to see if Muncie had moved. He was still back against the door.

  “Plans that will eventually include you, Mr. Turk. But for now, you need only be concerned with C-Pod.”

  “Why C-Pod? What makes us different from the others?”

  The Warden spun his chair to face the window. He stared at the barren landscape outside. “Nothing really. Call it a hunch. I have to fill certain needs and everyone has their place.”

  Jack laughed under his breath. “So, we’re just pawns for your survival. Is that it?” Jack twitched when he heard keys jingle behind him. Muncie giggled when he got the reaction he wanted. Jack rolled his eyes for giving Muncie the satisfaction of knowing he had the upper hand at the moment.

  “That’s it, Mr. Turk.” Warden Gorgon spun his chair back to face Jack. “In a situation like the one we face today, we are all pawns for something larger. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Jack didn’t know what to think. He was in a lot of pain and he was tired of the Warden’s obtuse hyperbole. Jack wanted to get the straight info or return to his bunk so he could nurse his fresh injuries. He grimaced about the pain of the last day. He had been beaten down and abused. Jack knew he could withstand much more than this. But he needed to build his strength and heal quickly. Jack’s intuition told him this would just be the calm before the storm.

  “Please escort Mr. Turk to his pod. We are finished for today.”

  “Wait.” Jack stood up as Muncie approached. “You haven’t really told me anything. What am I supposed to do? What’s happening? Why aren’t you telling me everything?”

  The Warden stood and chuckled. “You don’t need to know everything, Mr. Turk. You just need to take care of the men in C-Pod for me. I know I can count on you. And you will learn to trust me.”

  Jack didn’t get a chance to respond. Muncie grabbed him from behind, the baton firmly pressed against his throat. Muncie dragged Jack out the door, leaving him with more questions than answers.

  Chapter 10

  Hunger was rampant. The pall of starvation was palpable. It made the gray walls and floors much drearier. The prisoners were sluggish and most remained in their bunks to conserve energy.

  It had only been thirty-six hours since their last meal. Yet, the groans and gurgling of their stomachs echoed in the somber silence of C-Pod. Jack dozed on and off. He was in
tent on healing his body as much as sleeping to forget his hunger. The rest was fitful at best. He rolled his head to the right, staring down at Swede.

  “You know, you don’t look so muscular anymore.” Jack knew the words would irritate his bunk mate.

  Swede flipped off Jack with a sluggish gesture.

  “Starting to look like a corned beef sandwich to me.” Jack felt the immediate salivation at the thought of a fresh sandwich. He imagined a huge buffet line in the main room of C-Pod. Dishes adorned with meats and salads. And, of course, trays of chocolatey desserts at the end of the line.

  Jack had thought about the Warden’s request for help. But he didn’t know what to make of it. Why should he help his captor? What was in it for him? How could he turn against his brothers without losing their allegiance? He didn’t know how to keep the men from acting out. They were animals. Each man was in the joint for disobeying common laws. Laws that society deemed important. They wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about the laws of the prison. It was all about getting away with what you could and avoiding pain. Right now, they all felt the pain of hunger. Jack knew they would all do whatever it took to get some food and water.

  He opened his eyes and stared at the drab ceiling above his bunk. Its colorlessness reflected his mood. It added to the oppression he felt in his heart.

  Jack swung his legs over the bunk and slid down to the floor. “I’m going to get a cheeseburger. You want anything?”

  Swede flipped him another bird and rolled over to face the wall. Jack heard the gurgle from Swede’s stomach as the motion caused the air pockets to shift inside.

  Jack staggered out into the main room. Silence filled C-Pod. It was strange since the room was typically filled with prisoners shouting and talking. Some would be playing cards while others did massive amounts of push-ups or crunches. Joker would be yammering away as he bounced between tables of men. Frenchie would be flaunting his stuff in hopes of finding a sexual partner. Not today. The action was missing.

  He reminded himself about the Warden’s request. He didn’t need to keep the prisoners calm. They couldn’t be any calmer in this state of starvation. But he knew he was kidding himself. The prisoners would find the will and the energy once true desperation took hold of them. These were people who didn’t follow rules in the real world. If they got hungry enough, Jack knew the worm would turn inside the pod. He envisioned fights. Men stealing whatever they could from each other. There would be bloodshed. Bloodshed was always popular in this place, he reasoned.

  Jack shuffled to one of the tables in the center of the pod. He dropped his listless body to the bench and rested his head in his hands. Jack felt the hunger inside the bones of his elbows setting on the table. He felt an itch on his lower back but he was too exhausted to reach behind and scratch it.

  He heard shuffling feet approach him. A dark shadow blocked the fluorescent lights above him and jack hoped it was somebody coming to kill him. To end this nightmare. It was only Melvin.

  The old man sat across from Jack. The wrinkles in Melvin’s visage drooped more than usual. His tired skin giving up elasticity without nourishment.

  “Melvin.” Jack croaked out the word without raising his eyes.

  “Jack.” Melvin echoed the sentiment.

  “How’s it going?”

  Melvin made a soft groan under his breath. “Great. I’m full up from breakfast.”

  Jack managed a smile.

  “Guys are getting to each other.” Melvin whispered.

  Jack lifted his head from his hands. “Who? I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Not yet cause they all tired with hunger. But it’s rumbling beneath the surface. Irritation. Tempers. I hear it in the tone, not the words. But it’s coming.”

  Jack nodded. He had his work cut out for him because he felt the same way. How was he supposed to maintain the peace when he wanted to tear apart the next guy, too? “We gotta get them to hang on. Things will change soon.”

  “Damn straight, they’re gonna change soon. Not the way you thinking about though.” Melvin rubbed the end of his nose with the back of his hand.

  “It’s always darkest before the dawn.” The saying came to Jack from some random synapse in the back of his mind. He almost surprised himself for saying it out loud, let alone thinking it.

  “Shee-it, man. Gonna get darker than that nigga, 8-Ball.” Melvin smiled at Jack.

  “How is he doing?” Muncie had delivered 8-Ball back to C-Pod after twenty-four hours in the hole. 8-Ball was still in a fog when he returned from the dark isolation.

  “Coming around. He be startin’ trouble as usual. Just doing it from his bunk instead of gettin’ in everyone’s grill.”

  Jack chuckled. He was glad 8-Ball was back in the pod. As worried as he was about keeping the man peaceful, Jack was grateful to have someone as tough as 8-Ball back on the team. In case things went south with the guards, they would need the skills that 8-Ball possessed. And his ruthlessness.

  “We need food, Jack. And water. We can be hungry but we gotta get water, Jack.”

  Jack nodded to his friend. “I know. I know. I thought about that.” Jack paused before revealing his plan. “It ain’t pretty, but I think we can cordon off one of the toilets as drinking water. Get the guys to only do their business in the rest of them. So at least one clean water source exists.”

  “You call that clean?”

  Jack shook his head. He knew nothing in the joint was clean. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And he felt desperate all over.

  Chapter 11

  Gorgon was exasperated. He flipped through the data analysis while Dr. Shipley sat across from him. Warden Gorgon hid his displeasure from the doctor. He needed Shipley’s perseverance so he was reluctant to say anything that could be taken as negative feedback.

  Shipley had tested the blood of the exposed staff and prisoners. The people with outward symptoms didn’t appear to show different attributes. The findings were inconclusive. Infected blood was similar to uninfected blood. At least at this stage of the game.

  “Is it possible that the “uninfected” are really infected?” Gorgon used air quotes. “Maybe the reason they are similar is because the symptoms are more latent.” He leaned across the desk, handing the reports back to the doctor. In his mind, he felt the early twinges of fear.

  Dr. Shipley accepted the files. “I’m afraid not. Enough time has elapsed now. If the uninfected were truly infected, the symptoms would have been showing by now.”

  “Prognosis?”

  The doctor sighed. He stared at the pen in his hand as he fumbled it through his fingers. “The virus is inevitable without strict quarantine. It’s widespread beyond our walls. And if we don’t segregate specific areas immediately, we could replicate the problems out there.”

  Warden Gorgon paced to the front of his desk. He sat in between the doctor’s knees and folded his arms. “What if we were to experiment?”

  The warden’s comment surprised Dr. Shipley. He adjusted himself in the seat with discomfort. “What do you mean?”

  “What if we were to give up on a vaccine and shift our focus to something more proactive?” He stared at the doctor, the intensity of his eyes revealing determination.

  “The only thing we can be proactive about is cordoning off the infected and testing everyone on a daily basis to catch new patients at onset.”

  Warden Gorgon stood up. It frustrated him how small-minded the majority of the planet was. He was fascinated that the human brain was capable of so much and yet humanity only utilized the minimal ten percent. World leaders and heads of corporations were just as prone to the infallibility of the lack of vision. Only geniuses grasped full measure of the brain’s resources.

  “If infection is inevitable, and we have to assume that it is...”

  “Why would we assume that?” The doctor cut off Gorgon’s thoughts.

  “Because our resources are limited. Therefore, our susceptibility to the disease cannot be
held at arm’s-length indefinitely. Mix in the probability of our walls being breached either by afflicted denizens or exposed folks looking for safe harbor...it is just a matter of time.”

  Dr. Shipley cleared his throat and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

  Gorgon continued with his idea. “In order to survive, we need to move beyond treatments and vaccinations. We must CREATE our destiny. Our literal survival.” He paused and leaned over the doctor’s chair.

  Dr. Shipley looked frightened. He swallowed loudly. “What...what do you want me to do? Become the mad scientist of Warsaw Prison?” The doctor laughed nervously and shifted again in his chair. He watched Warden Gorgon’s face, which hadn’t changed expressions.

  “I want you to make me an army...of zombies.”

  “No. You’re crazy. That won’t work. And, even if it would, I won’t be a part of it. I’m not a hack.”

  Gorgon’s nostrils flared. “You WILL do it. There’s no other choice unless you want to die, Shipley. You must come to terms with our fate.” He glared at the doctor. He wished to impose his will upon the scared little man but he was still cautious so he could keep Shipley calm and focused.

  Dr. Shipley stood and circled his chair. He kept the back of his hand against his trembling lips as he wondered about the possibilities. Gorgon thought he looked shaken but at least his mind appeared to be churning.

  “I don’t even know where to begin. And time is short.”

  Gorgon placed a calming hand on Shipley’s shoulder. “Time is very short. But we have all the time in the world inside this place.” He turned to the window and stared at the setting late afternoon sun. “We have steroids, right?”

  Dr. Shipley approached the Warden’s back. “Yes, but...”

  “The guards train with all that human growth hormone junk, right?”