Zombie Day Care: Impact Series - Book 1

by Craig Halloran

  “Please, call me Nate.”

  “Okay Nate. Take us back. Six years ago you sent a message that saved the world. Three years ago you began another quest — saving zombies. Tell us about that.”

  “Well Julie, it’s like this. What I discovered wasn’t a cure, as people say. Rather, the caffeine and sugar combinations only suppressed zombie people’s appetites for flesh and brains”.

  The hungry-eyed woman hung on his every word.

  “We still need to find a cure so that the zombie people can live normal lives in the world, just like the rest of us. That is why I helped found the World Humanitarian Society.”

  A tan, long-haired brunette asked the next question, “First Nate, I want to thank you. You saved millions, possibly billions of lives, and you seem to be on a noble quest to save even more.” She was shaking her head. “You are amazing.”

  He was grinning.

  “Thanks Christy. But I don’t deserve all the credit.”

  “Sure you don’t,” she added, squeezing his knee, drawing a look of disdain from her co-reporter.

  “Tell us about the World Humanitarian Society, Nate,” the blonde interjected, casting a quick glare at her counterpart.

  “Oh, sure.”

  He began rubbing his hands on his thighs when the camera zoomed in for a close up.

  “Well, like many of you, I also lost a lot of people I loved to zombieism. When I, I mean we, discovered a way to subdue their aggressiveness, we also learned there were other issues we needed to deal with as well.”

  The reporters sat engrossed at his side.

  Fiddling with his cross, he continued, “Because the zombie people were so despised, we quickly began their incineration. And that clip” he motioned in the air,” was one of our methods of paying them back for what they did to us. But after time, when the threat subsided, people like you and me started to wonder if our families were truly lost. People began trying to find their loved ones, wanting to bring them home, find a cure, and have resolution … even reconciliation.”

  “It certainly was an unforeseen blessing don’t you think?” Julie the blonde asked.

  Nate shifted in his seat as he replied, “Absolutely. So many questions worldwide arose. Taxes, assets, debt, family, custody? Who was in charge of all of these decisions? Families? Governments? The zombies … er … zombie people?”

  Christy the brunette added, “I remember going through all of this. It was horrifying. We had no idea where my brother and his wife were, and we got stuck with their children. I didn’t know anything about parenting,” she said with a shrug. There was a pause before Nate continued.

  “So … the World Humanitarian Society stepped up, and with the blessing of the United States and the United Nations, they were able to facilitate the process of bringing order to the lives of the families and the zombie people. But—their main mission is to find a cure.”

  Julie reached over, patting his knee.

  “And we know you’ll find one, Nate.”

  “Nate, do you think the remaining z-people will get to vote?” Christy asked.

  “Only if they're Democrats,” he said with a subtle smile, causing a burst of unnatural laughter from both women.

  “Tell us about your fiancé’” the brunette asked. Nate kissed his cross….

  Henry shut the television off, tossing the remote on the table. Ludicrous! All the signs were there that Nate was lying: the sweaty palms and flickering eyes. He knew the story coming next. How he tried to save Jeanine from the zombies, and how they were trying to find a cure for her … somewhere.

  “What do you think about all of that, Jimmy?”

  His brother was stooped over, head inside the fridge saying, “I love Nate, man. He saved the world. Woo Hoo!” Jimmy added, arms raised high in the air. “I wish I was him. I’d be banging those two reporters right now.”

  Jimmy began humping the table, spilling Henry’s coffee as he did so.

  “Imbecile!” Henry snatched his cup from the table as the hot liquid stung his hand and almost spilled on the floor.

  Jimmy stopped in motion, eyes frozen, then shouted, “I’m Nate McDaniel baby, I saved the world!” His brother started banging the table, using his fists like tom-tom mallets.

  “What is wrong with you? Every day you have to jerk off! You create havoc! You leave a mess! You leave—you come back. Over and over again, like a rabid flea.”

  Henry set his coffee down and rolled his sleeves up as he rounded the table.

  Jimmy hoisted his fists up. “Let’s go bro!”

  Henry caught his brother by the wrist and bent it downward, forcing Jimmy to his knees.

  “Ow! That’s cheatin’! Let go!” Jimmy cried.

  He wouldn’t. He wanted to break it. The look in Jimmy’s distraught face gave Henry satisfaction. He fought the urge to kick in his ribs.

  “You stay away from me and everyone—especially Tori! If I catch you leering at her again, I’ll break your hands—got it!” He cranked the pressure up one more time.

  “Yes,” his brother said, writhing to the floor.

  He let him go. How many times had they fought like this? He bailed his brother out time after time. Everyone did. That was part of the problem. Violence wasn’t his style, but he was more than just a run of the mill scientist. He’d been a formidable ball player and runner in his day, too. Jimmy was nothing of the sort, just a pathetic life on legs.

  Henry headed down the hall and scanned the elevator pad with his card. His stepped inside, and he could hear his brother laughing and sniffing. His brother was a risk, a dangerous one and he was back. There was only one way his brother could have got back in. It was time to check in with his dad. Don’t forget your glasses.

  CHAPTER 10

  The elevator chimed as the third floor button lit up and the steel doors slid open. Thirty feet down a hospital white corridor was another open room and entryway. The elevator doors began to close behind him as he started ahead. He noticed he was shaking as he stopped inside the entryway.

  He stood inside the small square room and rubbed his shoulders. The facility was always cold. A set of lab coats lay on a shelf along the wall, and he slipped one on over his navy oxford shirt and beige dress pants. Another set of stainless steel doors awaited him. Above the door a red beacon loomed. He always wondered if, more than just a color, it was a warning.

  On the white wall beside him he saw a plaque that read: W.H.S., Guthrie WV Unit, Certification 111. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and wondered if there was anything else he should have grabbed from the van. Beside the plaque was another rack filled with shotguns with synthetic black stocks. The sight of them gave him little reassurance compared to the days they kept armed guards at every door. Now there was less than a skeleton crew, one inside and John on the outside. I wish they would finish that other elevator. Here we go.

  When he swiped his magnetic card, the green light flared and he watched the silver doors yawn open. He walked out into a vibrant room that only the most creative minds could have imagined. The sight was always unsettling, unnatural and impossible. The kaleidoscopic colors were intense and overwhelming. His chest tightened, and a cold sweat overcame him as he balled up his fists.

  Inhale your sanity. Exhale the madness. Welcome back to the Zombie Day Care.

  Small children's bodies were in slow motion, sputtering inside a rainbow room full of giant stuffed toys and radiant bean bag chairs. The bright clothes the children wore were in stark contrast to their olive gray skin and thinning hair. Near the middle of the room, a boy, about five years old, fell down a slide. A slack-jawed girl, maybe seven, stood in front of a large LCD screen, staring at an episode of Mister Giggle Pants. Another little boy wearing a red and white striped shirt was chewing the popcorn from the inside of a bean bag chair.

  The words, “num-num,” slowly escaped their gothic little lips, like a heartbeat. . The sound of soothing classical music did little to b
lock out the eye-jolting assault on Henry’s senses. Henry watched a little girl in a pink dress, still with much of her blonde hair, walking on a treadmill at an agonizing pace. He looked at the machine's timer: sixteen hours thirty-five minutes. She must have just started.

  He looked up, searching for people in lab coats, working along the platforms and catwalks surrounding the room from above. No one was there. He walked deeper into the playroom, careful to avoid the children. He watched one child in a bright yellow Juicy Fruit shirt make a wide yawn. He steered clear of that one, as the sight of its gray teeth tingled his fingertips. They’re still dangerous. But many of the others in the lab didn’t share Henry’s sentiments.

  A voice shouted from above, “Hey, Sam Becket’s back! Welcome back Dr. Becket!”

  There was a small applause coming from somewhere on the catwalk above.

  Shielding his eyes from the bright lights overhead he yelled back, “I’m not Dr. Becket … quit saying that.”

  “You look like him though,” the same voice said.

  “No, I don’t. I have black hair and glasses.” Henry pointed to his rectangular spectacles.

  He watched a heavyset man traverse over the catwalks with loud footsteps to stand over him.

  “You sound like him.”

  Shaking his head he pleaded, “I don’t sound like him either. Can we please stop doing this?”

  The man above was a few years older than him, with thick black hair, an unkempt beard, and meaty arms like sailor.

  “Not until you say it,” the man said in a determined voice.

  “Say what?” He knew what.

  The man was nodding his head, hairy arms folded over his belly saying, “You know what.”

  It seemed like every eye was on him now, but he couldn’t tell from the lights. A little zombie child approached, causing him to step further away.

  “We’re waiting,” the man said with his arms outstretched.

  He held his finger up and the man above pressed his arms out while leaning forward on the rail saying, “Make sure we all can hear it.”

  He put his hands on his hips and said, “Oh crap!”

  “Yes!” Rudy shouted. “Yes—you nailed it!”

  A polite applause from another pair of unseen hands erupted inside the room. The man above him began climbing down a tunnel ladder that was similar to a building fire escape. The husky man dropped to the ground, stumbled, and fell face first into a bright green bean bag. Jumping up, the man jogged over and gave him a hug.

  “I’m glad you’re back Sam … I mean Henry!”

  “Okay, okay Rudy, enough.”

  He squirmed away, looking around as another zombie boy was walking away.

  “You act like I’ve been gone all year.”

  As Rudy stepped back, Henry could see the weathered Quantum Leap T-Shirt inside his lab coat. His friend must have everything the show ever made. Henry had even bought him one of those shirts for Christmas.

  A thrill was in Rudy’s voice as he talked, “Man! I–am–glad–you–are–back! It’s never the same around here when you're gone. It’s like a morgue.”

  “It is a morgue.”

  “Good one Bawk. Anyway, when your brother showed up right after you left—”

  “Wait a minute,” he grabbed Rudy by the shoulder, “When? Right after I left?”

  Rudy turned a little pale, averted his stare and said, “The next day.”

  He’s been here two weeks. How? Why didn’t anyone say something? Tori? Rudy?

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He was angry.

  “Man, you sound just like him.”

  “Who? Jimmy?”

  “No dude, Scott Bakula.”

  He rolled his eyes and grabbed his dumpy friend again. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

  The blustering man’s eyes widened when he brushed his hands away and said, “Because we knew it would upset you, and we didn’t want to ruin your vacation.”

  “Rudy,” his voice was rising, “there are things more important than my vacation and that would be the safety of all these people.” Rudy’s head was down. Henry felt something brush along his side causing him to half-jump away. He exhaled, it was Tori.

  “You mad at me too, Lover?” Her voice was sweet as honey.

  “Yes!” he said as he straightened his glasses, climbed inside the steel ladder tube and huffed up the rungs.

  Rudy was pointing at Tori as he mouthed the words; I told you he’d be mad. The two followed him up as Rudy tried to prompt Tori to go first, but she pushed him along ahead of her.

  “Almost,” he said, snapping his fingers.

  The catwalks crossed over a platform that encompassed the outer rim of the day care. The entire layout made him feel like he was on the set of an eighties spy movie. Computers and monitors were displayed along the walls and behind partitions. Some other familiar heads popped up and sunk back down behind their stations. It was the usual lukewarm reception at best. Watching zombies all day for a living did little for social development. Where’s Dad?

  Spying another set of doors along the wall, he headed for it with determination. I bet he’s in there. More footsteps came from behind him, clamoring over the metal walkway. A warm delicate hand caught up with his, slowing him down.

  He pulled away, but it held him tight.

  “Let go Tori. I’ve got to see him.”

  She barred his way with her body, chest out, hands on hips.

  “Don’t be mad. Settle down, we’ve got something to show you.” She pressed closer. “Just give us a minute.”

  Two heads of black hair were peeping over their monitors, with grins resting below.

  Rudy’s heavy hand slapped his butt saying, “Come on Bawk, you gotta see this!”

  He couldn’t imagine it was anything good, but their voices were filled with excitement. Tori’s suggestive smile subdued his sense of dread, and Rudy’s wild expression raised his brows.

  “Okay, but can we drop the Quantum Leap bit. I don’t look like him.”

  She grabbed his chin, “But you do sound like him … it’s very sexy.”

  “Man, if you looked like him, you’d have it all,” his friend was saying, pulling at the picture on his shirt.

  “I’m better looking than that guy.”

  Tori was fingering a lock of his hair when she said, “It’s okay Lover, nobody looks better than a movie star.”

  He slumped a bit as she pulled him down the platform. A small overlook stepped out and above a smaller multi-colored room below. A thickset boy, almost five feet tall, walked around the room at alarming speed for a zombie. A crop of medium brown hair hung down over its sunken eyes. The boy rushed around on brick heavy feet, elbows and knees stiff as boards as it rammed into a padded wall. The big boy fell onto the floor, only to pick itself up and rush again.

  “What the hell!” Henry said, pulling his glasses up and glaring at Tori, then Rudy. “How did this happen, Rudy?”

  “I don’t know, I’m not a biologist, I’m just a watcher and recorder. GS-16, Dude.” Rudy waived his ID that was pinned to his white coat in Henry’s face. “Now check this out.”

  Henry knew full well that Rudy did know, he just didn’t want the credit for it.

  Rudy pulled a red rubber ball from a black canister and hurled it upside the zombie child’s head, bringing forth a grunt. It turned and chased after the ball. Henry’s breath stopped as it picked the ball up. This can’t be. An uncomfortable thrill raised all his hairs from head to toe. The slack-jawed face below showed mild curiosity before its face contorted. The ball began to bulge while the child squeezed it like a bear would. It was grunting, trying to dig its clipped nails deep into the rubber. Neither the ball nor the zombie yielded.

  “He’ll play with that ball for hours, unless he bites it.” Rudy was enamored by the scene, while Henry went over and grabbed Tori by her wrists.

  “How long?” he said with disbelief.

  “About
a week,” she said in a nervous voice. “Your dad told us to just observe. That’s all we’ve done. It’ll be alright Henry, relax. We’re getting closer to a cure.”

  There is no cure. There is no good in this. Why! Why! Why!

  He could never understand how after just a few years people seemed to forget that the zombies were within days, maybe hours, of wiping out the human race. Instead of destroying the menace, they wanted to cure it. It was insanity. There was no good to be had in zombies, no matter who they used to be. No one listened to him these days. At least no one important did, anyway.

  “Watch this! Watch this!” Rudy yelled, almost falling over the railing.

  The grayish child bit into the rubber, teeth tearing it like a piece of chicken. The ball deflated along with Henry’s excitement. Another chill went down his spine as long dead images arose in his head.

  “Are there any others?”

  “No,” Tori and Rudy both replied.

  “Good. Where is my dad?” he demanded, looking at the doors to the micro-lab. Instead, they pointed below, meaning the basement. Henry knew he had to put a stop to this. Before it was too late.

  CHAPTER 11

  A wall of monitors displayed the interior activity of the facility, inside and out. Many of them were without a picture, showing only a black screen or a green error message. Fingers tapped into a keyboard as the remaining views above switched back and forth.

  The rest of the room was dark, featuring a low electronic hum and empty office chairs. Three security stations were there, but only one was occupied. There was a set of lockers, a small table, some cobwebs and a refrigerator. Along the wall was a half-empty gun rack below a gray locker that read AMMO. The dust was more modern than the equipment, but it would do. This facility was only a satellite agency, one of many, diminishing in funds and employees.

  Guthrie was an old government building that was easy to hide, located in a high place no one cared to remember. When the zombie infestation was curbed and the World Humanitarian Society was created, there was a dire need for zombie care. Guthrie was an abandoned West Virginia state facility that was easier to conceal than modify. It was one of the first of its kind. The politicians in Washington, D.C. who had zombie family members were the first to hide the ones they loved, rather than incinerate them. The children were considered the least dangerous among the afflicted, so they were taken in first.