by Byrd, Daniel
Hamilton raised a brow, nodding hesitantly. “Okay. Is this the part where I ask you to continue?”
“So impatient, you are,” Rhyzov continued, “but I suppose you must be for a man who has had so much kept from him. Now, the formalities are out of the way. Ask your questions.”
It can’t be this easy, can it?
Hamilton wasn't going to dance around the opportunity. “Who is der Nekromant?”
Ruthven wheezed underneath the bandages on his face. “That is just a name we have adopted for all of us. There is no one being who is the necromancer. Myself, Lewis, and Dr. Hayter here all take the name.”
“So it's just a moniker you've all used to commit these acts? I'm supposed to believe that?”
Hayter was behind Hamilton, looking over the files that were still open on the screen. “We don't care what you believe, frankly. All we care about is how well you can listen to what we say.”
“Why should I?” Hamilton challenged.
“Because,” Rhyzov picked up, “all is never what it seems when you are so fixated on your own ideals.”
“Can't say I have any, to be fair,” Hamilton commented, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “Then again, I do miss my weapon. Can I have it back?”
“No,” Hayter replied plainly.
“Worth a shot. Anyhow, you were saying, Ruthven…Rhyzov…” he made a show of snapping his fingers. “Dead guy?”
“You are an odd one, doctor. I've read a lot about you, but meeting you in person, finally able to talk, you're just as the records say.”
“Records?”
“Everything from your birthplace to your many, many incidents in college,” Hayter said with a laugh. “You should be in a jail cell right now, you know that right?”
“Evan Abraham Hamilton, age 29,” Rhyzov stated slowly. Hayter picked up after that.
“You were born in Quarantine, South Carolina to Jasmine and Carter Hamilton. Ironic name for the place you were born, wouldn’t you agree? At age eight you were taken into foster care. Your parents left you home alone one evening and never returned.”
No…he didn't get his hands on that.
“The police report says their car was found wrapped around a tree. Your father passed away from his injuries not long after the accident. The cause of the wreck was unknown, and yet you were taken into social services as your mother was deemed incompetent of providing care. Funny…the report on the wreck says nothing about the cause. Maybe we could consider something else, like your mother’s medical history?”
Fucking ass.
“She developed schizophrenia in her adulthood. I’m no expert on mental illnesses, but that’s hereditary, right?”
“Stop,” Hamilton growled. This was a line even Frank had never crossed.
“You were bounced back and forth between foster families for years before you left for college and began life alone as a legal adult. Even then, you couldn’t stay out of trouble. Of course, there’s a gap in the information,” Hayter held a finger up, like an instructor trying to gain the attention of his students during a lecture. “A gap between your years in college. I believe we all know what filled that gap.”
But how do they know?
“Then you returned to Princeton and finished your schooling, before heading out into the world and drifting on jobs. That is, until all of this happened.”
“Congratulations,” Hamilton said with a mocking clap, “you know how to use the Internet. That, and you have an unhealthy obsession with me. Not that that would explain how you know about Second Fall. I’d rather we didn’t discuss my past if you don’t mind. Otherwise, I’ll enjoy the conversation with my superiors a little too much as I unveil where you are.”
“Well, you are the wild card in all of this,” Rhyzov informed him. Hamilton cringed. Tuefel always called him that.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I’m referring to the fact that Dr. Hayter and myself don’t know where you truly stand in all of this.” His hand went to his bandaged chin. “Of course, I have to wonder if you even know?”
“I have an idea after that talk.”
Hayter howled with laughter. “Is that so?” Hamilton turned ever so slightly to face him.
“Yes.”
Hayter wagged a finger. “I don’t think you do. However, I know how to find out.”
Mind games. Be careful.
“Enlighten me, if you know so much more than I do about myself.”
“You may not like what you hear, Hamilton,” Rhyzov warned him. “Are you sure?”
“If it stops the cryptic shit, then sure.”
“Very well,” Rhyzov tried to speak, but the words came out as nothing but dead air. He inhaled, and spoke, “Between myself and Lewis, we have enough experience to know when someone is planning something sinister. I lived through the Cold War, personally. I know all of the tricks. Your shoes were fitted with transmitters.”
Hayter laughed. “And I knew enough about Project Preservation to ensure we'd fry the one in your back.”
Assholes.
“What did they tell you when they sent you to me?” Rhyzov inquired. “Did they promise that they would come for you? That you would be their key to finding us? Did they promise exoneration from your involvement?”
Hamilton knew they were trying to unnerve him. He wasn't buying it. “Does it matter? You have what you want. You won, didn't you?”
“Not yet,” Hayter interjected, “because you still don't know what their real plan was.”
Hamilton decided to humor the guy. “You do?”
“UGM-201,” Rhyzov uttered in his raspy voice. “Damnation.”
Hamilton was actually lost on that one. “What's that?”
“The sister to the nuclear weapon that decimated Austin, Texas three months ago,” Hayter replied, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed as he studied Hamilton. “The payload is enough to wipe any target off of the face of the Earth, and then some.”
“And you were to be its harbinger, Dr. Hamilton,” Rhyzov told him. Hamilton let that sink in for a few seconds. Sure, it sounded like something Houseman would do. Then again, if no one from the task force knew where the terrorists were, then would they really risk a nuke?
They did it three months ago. What’s to stop them now?
“Foreign soil…” Hamilton muttered to himself.
“Yet that plan was rendered useless,” Hayter said, casting his hand out to his side as if tossing the concept to the wind. “Now, you just need to know a location and a means of contacting someone with the capability of storming this facility. That’s a tough burden on you, doctor.”
“What are you getting at?” Hamilton asked. These two were starting to piss him off.
“If you want to contact the military, or anyone else for that matter, just ask.” Hayter revealed a satellite phone from within his lab coat.
“What?” Hamilton was dumbfounded by the sight. Is it really going to be that easy?
“Take it, if you want to,” Hayter offered, “but I wonder if you will still want to.”
“You’ve said nothing to change my mind yet, so sure.” Hamilton extended a hand. “Hand it here.”
Hayter handed him the phone, and Hamilton carefully snatched it from him. It looked like it was functional. Still, he didn’t trust them.
“It only works outside, unfortunately,” Rhyzov informed him. “Too much interference in the tunnel for such a transmission. From up there you will be able to see where we are.”
“And you’ll just let me stroll on out there?” Hamilton asked with obvious skepticism. “I won’t be gunned down by any of the people here?”
Hayter patted him on the shoulder and walked towards the airlock. “Of course not. In fact, I’ll escort you. Come, walk with me, doctor. My assistants need to tend to Rhyzov, and that will take time. We can get to know each other in the meantime.”
Hamilton frowned. He didn’t care to know the guy. All he car
ed about was getting outside and getting hold of someone who could bring this all to an end.
Even if that means your life in the process?
“That’s assuming they’re telling the truth,” Hamilton uttered as he followed after Hayter. They stood silently in the airlock while waiting for the hissing to stop. What else did they work on here to justify this kind of decontamination? The virus wasn’t airborne, and it wouldn’t kill a pathogen within. The second the door opened, Hayter went right to talking.
“Are you a religious man, Hamilton?”
Hamilton scoffed at that. “Hell no.”
“What about the humanities? Ever studied culture and whatnot?”
“No.” He really didn't feel like chatting. He just wanted to get to the surface.
“You've never been interested in how others view the world you live in?”
“No.”
“Not in a mood to have a nice conversation?” They came to the end of the passage that opened up into the massive tunnel in both directions. Hamilton eyed the gargantuan steel wall with the doors at the bottom.
“No.”
Hayter crossed his arms as they began ascending the path. “Come on, Hamilton. Humor me. Are you always this blunt with others?”
“Yes,” Hamilton replied as he studied the phone.
“Well, culture is an important favor in the lifestyle of all of humanity. Everyone has their own traditions. They all worship different deities and eat different foods. Medicinal treatments vary, and some believe afflictions to be curses rather than pathogens.”
“Uh-huh…”
“It's amazing how embedded the undead are into some cultures. They rise in Egypt and fears of the plagues return. They rise in Asia, and mythology comes to life. They rise in places like the United States, and those who keep up with popular culture believe they have prepared for the day. The truth is that this has been a forthcoming threat for years now. So, how will the different reactions from each culture prove to be their downfall?”
“It doesn't matter,” Hamilton said, looking up from the device to inspect the armed personnel all going up and down the tunnel. “In the end, they'll all die at this rate.”
“A pessimistic view,” Hayter replied in disappointment, “but I suppose you're not wrong.”
“I'm not a philosopher,” Hamilton said with evident irritation, “I'm an anatomist.”
“I'm aware. I suppose that knowledge is what allowed you to be so effective at stopping Frank. Understanding the weak points of someone can prove invaluable, wouldn't you agree?” Hayter looked back and smiled. It sickened Hamilton. There was something about him that made him uneasy, but what the hell was it?
“So, Hamilton, why did you go to such great lengths for all of this?” Hayter asked. “I'm really curious as to your reasoning, and I'd like to hear it from you.”
“All of what?” Hamilton dodged.
“Killing Frank, the others, and then coming here. Was it all to be a hero? Did you feel some personal responsibility?”
Don't let him pry.
Then Hamilton could hear the others. The other members of Project Second Fall began warning him and berating him for talking to this guy. They overlapped and ranged from speaking to yelling. Hamilton closed his eyes and slapped a hand to his face, unsure of what was going on. Then other voices mixed in. He thought he could hear Houseman somewhere in it all. His threats to have Hamilton handed to the civilians to deal with were actually making the doctor sweat. More and more noises filled his head, and before he knew it he was slapping his hand on the sides of his face in a desperate attempt to make it all stop.
“Hamilton?”
Hayter had been speaking to him. The voices stopped just as suddenly as they had started. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
Hamilton scratched the back of his neck and glanced around. There was no one else around other than Dr. Hayter and himself. They were still far below the surface. “Yes. What did you ask again?”
“Are you playing hero, or not?”
“No.”
“Then why? I don't know you very well, but from what I can tell you aren't a man to care for others. Not unless they're willing to participate in an experiment, according to your university records.” Hayter laughed at that.
“I wanted to end Tuefel’s legacy. That's all.”
Hayter stopped walking again. It was starting to piss Hamilton off. “Oh, but Hamilton! This isn't his legacy! It's not even mine, nor Rhyzov’s! This is the legacy of some mad Nazi scientists during the Second World War!”
Really?
“Really? Nazi zombies?” Hamilton rolled his eyes and sighed. “How original.”
“Well it wouldn't have been had they gone through with it. See, even the top German scientists at the time saw the horrors of the proposal when it was sent up the line to be considered. Hamilton, even Hitler said no. Granted, the virus wasn't even tested nor finished at that point. It was all a crazy idea at its point of conception. Then those plans ended up in the hands of the Soviets following the war, and then…well you can guess who obtained the data next.”
Frank.
“Frank took that information and began his own research into utilizing the virus as a means of ending war. Honestly,” Hayter took the moment to laugh while clutching his head, “it was the wisest use anyone could have tried to undertake with such a weapon. He really was the man who could take something so controversial and make it appealing. I applauded him for it, really. It was nice to see my old colleague succeed.”
That finally got Hamilton’s attention. “Wait, what?”
“He never talked about me?” Hayter sounded disheartened. “That's a shame. He and I worked together at Duke University for a time in the ‘90s. He was always so wrapped up in his work that I was worried he didn't even know I existed, but we got along just fine when he did acknowledge my presence.”
Good. Another one to kill. Ties with Frank guarantee that, right?
“Yet you're glad he's gone?” Hamilton reminded him. He remembered the message addressed to him. Someone here wanted Frank dead.
“Well, he was in the way of my goal. I won't deny that it was a shame to see him go, but I don't hold any grudges if that's what you're asking?”
“What goal?” Hamilton decided to try again. “You never told me anyway. That and who you really are.”
Hayter stopped walking again. Hamilton considered just leaving him where he was and moving on. They couldn't be much further from the surface, and he didn't really care to hear the crazy idiot explain himself.
Then go. Unless you're lying? You're interested. I know you are.
“We each have our own vision of the world as it should be,” Hayter explained as Hamilton stopped ahead of him. “If you ask Jackson Lewis, his vision is of a world where soldiers are always welcome, no matter what their story is. He has a deep connection with the armed forces here, and treats them like family. He deals punishment when he sees fit, and takes care of them when they're down. He's a man worthy of the name he's been given by them. Abzu.”
Hamilton turned around to acknowledge his attention and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, sure. No idea what the hell that is, but sure.”
“Husband to Tiamat, and since he's…never mind. Now, if you were to ask Rhyzov, his idea of a perfect world is one free of warfare in general. No more lies, and no more countries. He's one of the greatest spies of the Cold War, and if anyone knows what lies and deceit bring, it's him. Those dark years led to him wanting one world of people to all share together as one. Honestly, it reminds me of the Tower of Babel in a strange sense.”
“Yeah, and I'm sure God would strike it down too. Sounds like communism, honestly.”
“Right,” Hayter smirked as he replied, “but my idea is something a bit more…unorthodox.”
“What? World peace through zombies?” Hamilton mocked. “That's what Tuefel was spouting before I killed him.”
Hayter grinned and walked past him, s
o Hamilton reluctantly followed.
Fucking dramatics…
Cargo trucks were driving past them and heading deeper into the tunnel. He wondered just what was at the bottom, anyway. Beyond the fortified wall…
“We’re in the times of the blind, Hamilton.” Hayter continued. “Most people believe what they hear, and if they don't, they simply refuse to accept it. The truth doesn't matter. All that matters is keeping yourself afloat in the sea of chaos that is life. For most people, that means by any way they can.”
“We’re no different,” Hamilton responded.
“Maybe, but people like you and I don't follow the same rules as everyone else. Tuefel didn't either.”
“Don't compare me to that bastard,” Hamilton warned.
“I didn't know that was a touchy subject? Oh well, I apologize.”
“You still haven't answered anything about yourself,” Hamilton reminded him. Hayter was quick to dodge it again.
"I'm sure you have many other questions, Dr. Hamilton," Hayter said. "I'm sure you'd like to know why Dr. Adler was used as a subject for Tueful's…special strain?"
"He told me it was because she was going to talk about their research," Hamilton answered, clenching his fists, "and that it was her punishment."
"Is that what he said?" Hayter asked, but he didn't seem surprised. If anything, he was mocking Hamilton. "I'll let you in on a little secret that he kept from you, among many, I'm sure; Julia was a much bigger threat to him than anyone realized.”
"Is that so?" Hamilton asked. "And how would you know that?"
Hayter looked back again and stared directly into Hamilton's eyes. "Because, I worked closely with that man for a time on Project Second Fall.”
"When?" Hamilton asked. “At Duke?”
Do you really trust anything this guy says?
"Just after you left the project," he responded, smiling as he watched the realization sweep over Hamilton's face. "That's right. I was your replacement."
Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together in Hamilton's head. "So you're the one…he mentioned someone else joining, but never by name."