Zombie Day Care: Impact Series - Book 1

by Craig Halloran

  Nate fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket and pulled it out to show the man. The officer tipped up his sunglasses and gave it a good look. The man slapped him on the shoulder; a broad smile was on his face as he gave a thumbs up to the men behind him. The soldiers in camouflage returned the signal.

  The man yelled back in his ear saying, “Guess what Nate?”

  “What!”

  “You’re a hero!”

  “I am?” he yelled, feeling confused. “Why?” He read the man’s name tag. Dotson.

  “Son,” the officer grasped his shoulders tight, “you sent the tweet that saved the world!”

  “I did?”

  The officer nodded and began looking around. “Say, where’s that zombie?”

  “What?”

  “The zombie!”

  “Inside there,” he pointed back towards the sheriff’s office. General Dotson pointed to his men. Two soldiers with M-16’s headed inside, followed by a smaller man in black with a moustache, dark glasses and a shotgun. Nate shook his head. Something was going on.

  “Hey — what are they doing?’

  The general pulled at his arm, ordering him, “Stay here son!”

  Nate jerked his arm away and ran back toward the building. Jeanine! Every step felt like a nail was being driven in his leg as he ran inside. He rounded into the hallway and faced a rifle barrel lowered into his chest. He kept going. Jeanine’s face was pressed to the bars. The wiry man in black had the shotgun pointed in her face.

  “NOOOO!” Nate screamed.

  KA-BOOM!

  He watched as her body fell lifeless onto the cell floor. He sunk to his knees gawping. Two hard-faced soldiers grabbed him under his arms and dragged him back outside. He couldn’t feel a thing. The wiry man with the shotgun lit up a cigarette as he walked by.

  Nate said, “Th-that was my girlfriend.” He could see his reflection in the man’s dark glasses. He could make out two beady eyes as well.

  The man leered at him, and with a deep southern accent said, “Was, is the key word son.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Guthrie, West Virginia

  The road winded upward, across a picturesque landscape of turning leaves and tall pines. The morning dew and lifting fog coated the grassy grounds along the way. The minivan with balding tires accelerated, screeching up the hill. The radio commercials droned on between breaks of blathering talk radio hosts. It was another big day, the annual celebration of the day Nate McDaniel saved the world.

  The van screeched as a small buck came into view, leaping away from the honk.

  “Stupid deer,” the driver muttered as he stepped down on the gas. He hated this road. It was a long unkempt disaster filled with pot holes and mud. He could never keep the van clean, even during the dry summers. Why should he care? It was a company car. He had brought his cherry red muscle machine up once, his first day, and busted a rim. He hated the dreadful hill ever since.

  Mile after mile, he suffered the gushing praise about Nate McDaniel, the man who saved the world. With Mountain Dew or whatever. He had roomed with Nate in college, the two of them had even pledged in the same fraternity. They had good times and a few bad. He squeezed the wheel. His roommate never cracked a book or went to class. Nate was bright, lucky and lazy. He always hated that about Nate, the ne’er-do-well. There was something else he didn’t like either. Nate was a notorious liar who led a charmed life.

  Here it comes, here it comes! A smooth spot of black top flattened up ahead, with several bumps rising in the road. He jammed on the gas.

  “Yah-hooooo!” he cheered as the muffler dragged sparks over the exhilarating bumps and clanked the cargo in the back. It gave him a rush. He braked hard, entering a hairpin turn, and shot back up the hill, straddling a snapping turtle in the road. The next one won’t be so lucky. Something on the radio caught his ear.

  “Up next hour, Nate McDaniel will be joining us, celebrating the 6th year anniversary of when he saved the world,” the speakers blared.

  He switched it off, shaking his head. That son-of-a-bitch couldn’t save a cat from a tree with a ladder and a fireman. Of course, having Nate as a friend had its benefits. It had been this same old roommate, the aspiring biologist and doctor of bullshit, turned savior of the world, that called and offered him his current assignment … and the pay was great. He allowed himself a smile as he thought about his 401k.

  He hadn’t seen his old roommate since college. It seemed like a lifetime ago. The private college hosted lots of academic challenges and a few interesting women. Nate somehow landed the goddess of the geeks in Jeanine. He never understood that relationship – or what happened to her six years ago, for that matter. Charmed life.

  He approached a weathered structure that was fenced in. Fallen leaves covered the ground and rooftops of the old government building. Green moss and ivy decorated the walls and gutters. It was early in the morning on the hilltop, but it might as well have been night. He passed a blue sign on the road that read in gold letters: GUTHRIE FACILITY/WEST VIRGINIA. It wasn’t his favorite place in the world. As he looked ahead, he saw the high trees that choked out most of the sunlight like jagged curtains.

  The brakes squeaked to a halt as he pulled alongside a weathered guard shack. An older man in mirrored sunglasses stepped out alongside his car. The guard wore a starched green uniform and a shotgun was slung over his shoulder. He rolled down his window.

  “Evening John,” he said, sticking his head out the window with a faint smile.

  The man strolled around the car with agonizing slowness, checking his decals and looking in the windows. Another guard half the man’s size appeared, shirt half-tucked over a pot belly. The smaller guard began running a long bomb-detecting device under the van’s frame. Every single time.

  John the guard stepped alongside his window and stooped down. The man’s weathered face had a whimsical look and his big calloused hands clutched the driver’s window edge. His big head, full of thick white and gray hair, peered in the back of the van and withdrew. A tooth pick jutted under John’s moustache and a frown crossed his face.

  “State yer business civilian,” John said, in a voice as country as a coal burning stove.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I’ve come to kidnap the princess.”

  The man’s eyes widened as he a gasped and said, “You best get a nicer chariot Sir Lancer Lots. Ain’t no princess going nowhere with you in this thing.”

  John kicked the door.

  “Maybe you should settle for Fergie over here.”

  John jutted his thumb toward the dumpy little guard.

  He looked over and saw it was John’s grandson, in a uniform sewn by his wife. The boy was about ten, heavy, with his chubby face scrunched up in a sneer. It looks like the boy still has some pit-bull in him. He knew that little Ferguson wasn’t fond of working with his grandpa. It was that time of the year when mommy and daddy unloaded the boy while they committed consensual adultery.

  “Hi Ferguson,” he said, with a wave that drew the boy’s tongue. You have no resemblance to your father.

  John the guard asked in his usual cheerful voice, “So what’s new Henry. Did you enjoy your time off?”

  “Sure John, the cruise was wonderful, even with all the work, rain and lack of sunshine,” Henry replied.

  “That’s too bad. Did you get me any taffy? I don’t see any,” John said, wringing his hands, licking his moustache.

  “I didn’t think you could have taffy. Remember what it did to your dentures the last time.”

  John’s smile was bright white, “My teeths are just fine. Now, give me some taffy, or you ain’t going in.”

  Henry opened the center console and pulled out the splashy box and handed it over. The boy bounced on his toes by the van’s side. John inspected the box as a look of satisfaction crossed his face.

  “You’re alright Henry. I’ll let you in I guess.”

  “Gee thanks, I can�
�t wait. Anyone in there I should know about,” he said, bringing the van in gear.

  John rubbed the side of his face.

  “Nah … it’s just the usual suspects. I keep thinking there is something I need to tell you. You’d think if something new happened, I’d remember. It’s just the same faces every day. Well, if I remember I’ll give you a ring,” John said, giving him a salute as he stepped inside the guard shack.

  Henry watched the man press something that made a loud buzz and the gate slid open, shaking and rattling over the ground. He waved back as he pulled through. He heard John holler from behind as the gate began to close.

  “It’s your brother! Your brother’s in there!”

  A chill went down his spine. What!?

  CHAPTER 8

  The fluorescent lighting hummed above as determined footsteps echoed down the corridor. The old facility was built like a block limestone prison and smelled like bleach. The shining elevator door waited ahead, a red light shining like a beacon above it.

  Holding a box in his hands, Henry rose up on his toes and brushed the scanner with his back pocket. Nothing happened. He set down the box and pulled out his wallet from the back of his pants, and slapped it to the scanner. Nothing happened. Shaking his head, he pulled out the magnetic security card and tried again. The red light switched to green as he snatched up the box and got inside.

  Up he went, coming to a stop after only one floor. As the doors parted, he stepped out into a lobby. An abandoned receptionist desk greeted him. The surrounding offices and cubicles were without life or light. Good. He hated the small talk, especially with the handful of people he worked with in the dreary place. A scent of coffee hung in the air. I hope it’s fresh. I wonder who is here?

  He headed toward the back, stepped inside his office and set the box on his desk next to a picture of him, his brother, dad and mom. Looking around, he noticed things were out of place and his fridge was cracked open. He looked inside.

  “Jimmy!”

  His drinks were gone, every last one of them. He thought about his younger brother and the problems he caused. During college, when the zombies came, Jimmy had gone into mental decline. Jimmy was only a year younger, and seemed to take all of his frustrations out on him. Jimmy’s issues were only a nuisance at first; however, the past couple of years the issues had become quite problematic. And now, Jimmy was back, causing Henry to simmer within. Why can’t we get rid of him? Henry had no idea what he’d done to deserve a brother like his.

  There was a rustle of clothes behind him and he twisted around. Nothing was there. He stepped into the hallway. Somewhere in the room fingernails were tapping on a desk or counter top. The office area wasn’t big enough for twenty workers, but he still had trouble locating the sounds. He squinted, scanning the room. Who in the world?

  He felt his chest pocket and remembered his glasses were still in the mini-van. He had plenty of trouble seeing without them and it made him uneasy. An office chair groaned from inside one of the cubicles. Turning his head, he backed up on his tip-toes, looking over the partition walls. A ghost-like voice whispered from somewhere close inside the room.

  “Oh Henry …”

  Oh my!

  “Oh Henry,” someone said again, closer than before.

  He headed toward the source, step by step. He jumped out in front of a secluded cubicle.

  “Gotcha!”

  A black flat-screen monitor greeted him.

  “Huh?” he said, scratching his head.

  He started to turn around as claws dug into his side, driving him into the ground. A woman whispered as she chewed on his earlobe.

  “Oh Henry! Oh Henry!”

  It began to tickle now, as he burst out in laughter. He couldn’t catch his breath as he tried to fight the soft belligerent figure accosting him.

  “Stop!” he cried. “Stop!” He saw a thick tussle of brown hair as he shoved her back into the desk.

  “Ouch!” she cried, bumping her head.

  He gasped. “I’m sorry!” he said, reaching over, but she bounded onto his chest, tickling him again.

  “You’re gonna pay now Henry! Henry!”

  He strained, trying to defend himself. She was groping him all over now. The tickles began to subside and turn into something else. They both were out of breath when he got his first good look at her. Her pretty round face had an alluring grin. Underneath an open lab coat her buxom figure was enshrined in lacy maroon lingerie and high black heels. Her heavy breasts wanted to burst out of her bra.

  “Miss me?” she said as she straddled him, pinning his arms back behind his head. Her perfume was vitalizing. He was conquered.

  “Words could never describe my longing for you?”

  She slammed his hands back again.

  “Is that a yes or no?”

  “Yes Tori! Yes! Now get off me before someone comes.”

  She wiggled her hips on his.

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t want that … Oh Henry.” Her voice was like honey. She was right, but he was chicken.

  She looked around.

  “No one’s coming. It’s just me and you.”

  She winked at him.

  He tried to squirm, but she squeezed his wrists and her voice was like poison.

  “Did you cheat on me?”

  Oh no! Not this again. “No never!” He hadn’t, either. “Of course I want you, but my creepy brother is here,” he whined, “and—”

  She sealed his mouth shut with a powerful kiss and began sucking on his tongue. She nibbled and licked his ear. “They’re in the basement, so just relax and let me take care of you,” she whispered. He did. Tossing off her lab coat she unbuckled his belt along with his pants. As she jerked his pants down below his knees the elevator chimed.

  “Crap!” he said, wiggling away.

  “What are you doing?”

  He tried to whisper as he said, “Didn’t you hear that — it’s the elevator!”

  “You’re being paranoid.”

  She leaned onto his shoulders, her fragrant hair covering his face. Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her off and fixed his clothes. Tori sat back, biting her lip and blowing the hair from her face. More lights came on above them and her face lit up. They looked at each other and scrambled.

  He stood up, peeking over the low wall of the cubicle as she looked for her lab coat. They heard someone very close by, sucking the bottom fluid from a cup with a straw. He couldn’t see anyone though. He needed his glasses. Several silent seconds passed as he motioned for her to stay put as he headed into the office, looking around. Who in the—

  Tori shrieked as he jerked around just in time to see her crouched behind a chair. Goose bumps were all over her half-naked figure. A lanky man with a crooked ball cap and watery eyes hung over the partition wall. The man was laughing, shrill and creepy.

  “Nice outfit Tori. How’d you know that’s what I like,” Jimmy said in a disturbing voice, while dangling her lab coat.

  Tori darted behind Henry, clutching his waist.

  “Go away you pervert!” she yelled.

  Tori hated Jimmy. He hated Jimmy. Everyone hated Jimmy.

  His brother climbed over the wall and sauntered over, pulling up his baggy pants and straightening his grungy lab coat.

  “So, my prodigal brother returns.”

  “That would be you Jimmy,” Henry said, snatching Tori’s lab coat.

  Jimmy was a twenty-something two-time college dropout who had failed to socially connect beyond middle school. He was smart, cunning and weasel-eyed. Henry couldn’t stand the sight of him. Why are you here?

  “What are you doing here Jimmy? I thought you were gone for good.”

  Tori began moving away toward the elevator, heels clopping on the floor.

  “Bye Tori,” Jimmy said, chuckling as she flipped him the finger. Jimmy wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  “Pops said he needed some help, so here I am. I’ve taken over since you w
ere gone.”

  CHAPTER 9

  A large gold and blue ceramic coffee mug sat steaming on the break table. A black LCD TV hung from the wall, showing an aerial view of zombies being herded into a road sized tunnel. The view panned backward, exposing hundreds, growing to thousands, of morbid men and women inside miles of chain link fence. Security officers guarded the perimeter and forced the hapless people inside the tunnel.

  Another video clip cut in, showing a billow of black smoke from a burning dump truck that had crashed along a highway. The gray and white ash remains of the zombies were spilled onto the blacktop. More security forces cleared the area, but they weren’t quick enough to get all of the renegade footage. It was a scene from what happened in the years after Nate McDaniel saved the world.

  Someone was tapping a spoon on their coffee mug in the room.

  Tink. Tink. Tink.Tink.

  Henry blocked it out, focusing on the scene above. Nate McDaniel’s charming face appeared on the screen, again. Nate was busy recalling the events of his heroic situation to the television hosts that treated him like the President.

  “Bugs ya, don’t it,” said a voice that crawled under his skin.

  “You know me don’t you,” he said.

  Jimmy took a sip from his mug and jerked back. “Ow! Damn coffee’s hot!”

  Really, idiot! “Why do you even bother? You never drink it.” Henry was shaking his head as he pointed the remote, turning up the television.

  His brother made another annoying sniff from his nose. It must have been the hundredth time in ten minutes. His mere presence made the walls close in, and the sound of his condescending voice made it worse. “Just trying to be like my big bro.”

  “Great. You are doing such a fine job, too.” Sitting back on the break table, he studied the picture on the screen.

  Jimmy started again, “Well—”

  “Sssh!” He pointed his finger at the television.

  Nate McDaniel was on the screen, tall and stylish, between two leggy reporters. Nice Nate. Nate looked as sharp as he’d ever been. A gold cross was displayed around his neck. He’s got make up on. Henry listened to the conversation on the television ...

  “So Mr. McDaniel, or should I say ‘the man who saved the world’, how does that scene make you feel.” The short-haired blonde reporter asked.