Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3 Page 2

  He pressed his eye to the peep hole.

  It was the last person he wanted to see.

  Damn!

  It was Alice.

  CHAPTER 3

  -Washington, D.C.-

  “Oliver!” Don said, jumping from his bed. “You killed my nephew, you sonuva—oof!”

  Walker socked him in the gut. Don sagged back onto his bed.

  Oliver made his way inside. He wore a turtleneck sweater and jeans that were both packed with muscle. Just as stony faced as ever, he was sitting down when a third man entered. Don didn’t recognize him. He was taller and a bit heavy set. His beard was neatly trimmed and he had softer eyes. He closed the door and leaned back on it.

  Don glared at Oliver though and shook his head. “Why, Oliver? I was good to you.” He wheezed and straightened himself up in the bed. “You didn’t have to kill my nephew.”

  Oliver smirked and folded his thick arms over his chest. “I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

  “Did you want to kill me, too?” Don asked.

  “Every day for the last several years.”

  Don grumbled a long sigh and rubbed his beard. Things were clearly not what they seemed. I’m in trouble. I’m in my seventies. I don’t need this kind of trouble. He popped his head up and clapped his hands.

  “Alright, gentlemen, you got me. What is it you want?”

  Walker puffed on his cigarette. Oliver didn’t budge, but his eyes bore right into Don.

  “Well?”

  “World Peace,” Walker said with a laugh.

  “Ah,” Don said, wagging his finger at Walker, “that’s a good one. But I don’t think that will ever happen. And gentlemen, I don’t think what you’ve done here is very smart either.” He slapped his knees. “Nope, not very smart at all.” He looked at Oliver and Walker. “Now you both know that nothing in this world, and I mean nothing, gets by WHS. Oh, you may have me now, but it won’t be long. You’ll see. So, whatever you want to get from me you better make it quick. I wouldn’t be surprised if they arrived here any minute.”

  Walker and Oliver chuckled.

  The trailer filled with a layer of smoke and Don started coughing a little.

  “Do you mind?” he said, fanning it from his face.

  Walker reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a small hunk of metal. He set it on the table.

  Don cocked his head. He started rolling his tongue around his mouth, feeling his teeth. A tooth was missing. He shook his head.

  “That’s right,” Walker said. “That’s your filling, or should I say, your tracer.” Walker picked it up and pinched it between his fingers. “Pretty dated, but still effective. When did they put that thing in, the sixties?”

  Don nodded. “About right,” he said, voice sagging. “But they’ll still find me.”

  “They haven’t yet,” Oliver said. “We’ve been plenty careful.”

  “Well, it hasn’t been that long now, has it?” Don said, eyeing Oliver.

  “Two weeks is a pretty long time,” Oliver said, bobbing his head, “and they haven’t found you yet.”

  Don’s eyes widened. “No,” he said in disbelief, “it can’t be.”

  The stranger at the door showed a smart phone display to him. It was the front page of USA Today, with a date two weeks from the last date Don remembered.

  “It is,” Walker said. “And I’m pretty sure they’ve given you up for dead. At least, that’s what they’re saying back at the office. The search is over, Bub.”

  Aw, Becky. She must be a complete mess by now.

  Don fought the urge to collapse his face into his hands. This wasn’t his first interrogation. He’d been down that road many times before. OK, a few times on this side of things, but mostly on the other. He could handle these overachievers. They were amateurs.

  He looked up at the man standing in front of the door.

  “So, who do we have here?”

  The man stared right back in his eyes without blinking. He seemed familiar.

  “Is this the mastermind behind it all? The team leader of my kidnapping?” He huffed. “No offense, but you don’t look like much of a mastermind. Maybe you’re one of those hackers. Eh? Is that it?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Not much of a talker,” Don said. He looked at Walker. “Did you cut his tongue out? Maybe a zombie ate it?”

  The man smirked and stuck out his tongue.

  Don’s stomach groaned again.

  “Alright, this is getting old. Out with the questions. What do you guys want?”

  Walker finished his cigarette and flicked it at him.

  “Hey,” Don said, brushing it off, “respect your elders.”

  “Don’t piss me off, Old Man,” Walker said. He busted open his zippo and fired another Camel up. “Anthony Ravenloft.”

  Don stiffened for a split second then resumed his lax posture.

  “Ravenloft? Pfft. What would you want him for? He’s a strange bird.”

  “How strange?” Walker said.

  “Well,” Don started, clearing his throat, “I don’t think he’s a cross dresser or anything. He’s just weird, is all. One of those paranormal geeks. Say, if I’ve been down for two weeks, can I please get something to eat? I’m not much of a conversationalist when I’m starving.”

  Walker nodded to the man at the door. He excited quickly.

  Don didn’t get a glimpse of anything beyond. It was dim outside, wherever they were. Damn.

  “So, is that a fellow foot soldier? A WHS insider like you, Walker?”

  “Nope.”

  He turned his attention to Oliver.

  “How’d you get sucked into all this, Oliver?”

  Oliver had been his personal guard for fifteen years. A former Secret Service agent he’d recruited. The man didn’t have much. No wife or children. His parents died when he was young and he was bounced around in foster homes until he graduated high school and joined the Air Force. Liked girls and gambling a little. Simple, rugged and kept to himself. He had been an ideal henchmen for Don. Now he’d betrayed him.

  “When I’m not driving you around or fixing your coffee, I like to read. I like to read a lot. Not those best sellers either. No, the other stuff. You know, the stuff they don’t want people to read.” Oliver leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know, conspiracies and such.”

  “Ah,” Don said. “Got you thinking, did it? Did you read the ones about Kennedy and Lincoln?” He rolled his eyes. “How exciting for you, Oliver. Are you going to write a conspiracy book of your own?”

  “No,” Oliver said, “I’m just going to do my part.”

  “Oh, and what part is that?”

  “Making sure that scum like you don’t get what they want.”

  “And what do we want, Oliver?” Don said, looking bored.

  “Another Zombie Outbreak. You bastards want to finish what you started.”

  “You flatter me, Oliver. You really do,” Don said, holding his stomach. “But you’ve got the wrong man for that. But my nephew, well, he might have been able to help. He knew more than I do.”

  The door opened up and the bearded man slipped in. He had a cooler in one hand and tossed Don an object with the other. He caught it with his chest. It was a small can with a blue label. He read it out loud.

  “Vienna Sausages.”

  “Don’t worry, Don,” Walker said. “After all this time, I’m sure it’ll taste like a steak dinner.”

  CHAPTER 4

  -Institute, WV-

  “Alice,” Henry whispered, wedging his mouth into the crack between the door and the jamb, “what do you want?”

  Her arms were folded over her lab coat and her high-heeled foot tapped the floor. She was pretty with a dark ponytail. Round glasses. Arrogant.

  “What’s the matter? Did I interrupt you and your little hussy?” she said with a smirk. Loudly at that.

  “Ssshh,” Henry said, slipping outside and closing the door b
ehind him. “She’s asleep and if she heard you say that, she’d tear you in half.”

  Alice laughed.

  “Whatever, Henry.”

  There were three security men in the old dormitory hallway. They wore flack vests and carried M-16 assault rifles. Their helmets had shaded face shields. Two must have escorted Alice and the third was always stationed in the hall near their door. There were cameras in the halls too.

  Henry brushed his hands over his clothes and blushed a little. He was in the white Scooby Doo T-Shirt Tori had bought him on their last outing. His pajama pants were navy blue. Alice looked him up and down and the guards snickered at him. He folded his arms over his chest and stepped right up to Alice.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to personally let you know that the interviews are over.”

  “And what?” he glanced at security and back to her. “We face the firing squad tomorrow?”

  Alice reached over and brushed some lint off his chest. She smelled really good and her nails were painted now.

  “Not you,” she said, “just Tori. She is part zombie, after all.”

  “Ha, ha,” Henry said.

  “Well, be thankful. I talked Rudy out of pressing charges against her.”

  “What?” Henry’s face flushed. “For what?”

  “Assault,” she said. “She broke his jaw, you know. That fellow Rod put Weege in the hospital.”

  And they so deserved it. Henry didn’t know what to make of it, but the pair of them had almost gotten him and Tori killed. He couldn’t help but think Alice had something to do with it. Possibly Director Smoot too.

  “So are we free to go back to work? What is the situation, Alice?”

  “You’re being reassigned,” she said.

  “To do what?” Henry said.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Pack your bags. You leave first thing tomorrow.”

  “What?” Henry scratched his head. “What do you mean by you, Alice?”

  “Oh, you’re worried about your little freaky girlfriend.” Alice leaned forward and spoke in his ear. “Your little pet isn’t coming. She can go back to Go-Mart where you found her.”

  Henry’s door popped open and out came Tori. She jerked him back behind her.

  “What’s going on out here?” Tori said, getting in Alice’s face.

  Tori was still in her black top, pink panties and nothing else. The guards shifted and craned their necks. One’s mouth fell open.

  “Nice hair,” Alice said.

  Slap!

  Tori slapped Alice’s glasses off her face.

  Alice’s eyes turned into daggers of ice.

  “You bitch!”

  She drew back her fist. Tori jumped on her.

  “Tori! Stop!” Henry said, stretching his arms out.

  Both women rolled on the floor. They punched, bit, cursed and clawed at each other.

  The guards looked at Henry, then back at the women.

  Henry couldn’t care less if Tori ripped Alice’s head off, but he didn’t want Tori getting in any more trouble.

  “Want me to get a water hose?” one guard said.

  “Good idea,” said another.

  “Geez,” Henry said, “Do I have to handle this?”

  Tori and Alice had each other by the hair and were screaming in each other’s faces. Henry wrapped his arms around Tori’s waist and pulled. One guard did the same to Alice. Both of them still had handfuls of hair, which tried to keep them attached to each other.

  “I’m going to kill you!” Alice screamed.

  “I’m going to kill you!” Tori fired back.

  “That’s enough, Tori!” Henry yelled. “Let her go!”

  “NO!”

  “Now, I said!”

  They pulled them apart. Both women screeched. They had clumps of hair in their hands. Alice’s hair was all over her face.

  “Shoot her!” Alice said, trying to grab the guard’s rifle. He turned Alice around and shoved her down the hallway. Another guard picked up her glasses, grinned and said, “Thanks.”

  “You’ll never see her again, Henry!” Alice yelled back down the hallway. “Never!”

  The guards got her to the elevator and disappeared.

  Henry put his arm around Tori’s waist to lead her to their room.

  She jerked away.

  “Let go of me!”

  She dashed into the room.

  Bam!

  The door slammed in his face.

  “Great,” he sighed.

  He gave it a moment, then tried the handle. It opened. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Tori sat on the bed, shaking and sobbing.

  “Are you alright?”

  Her face was miserable when she said, “Do I look alright?”

  Stupid question.

  He sat down beside her and rubbed her back.

  “Don’t,” she said, getting up, snatching some tissues and blowing her nose. She sat down in the desk chair. “What did she want anyway?”

  “She came to tell me the interviews are over. She says I’m being reassigned.”

  “What about me?”

  Henry shrugged.

  Tears started rolling down Tori’s cheeks.

  “Hey, hey, hey … I’m not going anywhere without you. Alice is just saying that. We’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”

  Tori continued to sob. Henry’s chest ached. They should be happy the interviews were over. They should be celebrating. Alice had gone awfully far out of her way to tell him the news and now he didn’t have any more answers than he had before. Thanks to Tori he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Can’t she ever control herself?

  “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she said.

  “No. I’m just mad.” He went into the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush. “They say it’s a reassignment. To do what, I don’t know.”

  “When will you find out?” Tori said.

  “Tomorrow.” He squeezed his toothpaste onto his brush.

  “When does it start?” Tori said, getting up and leaning on the bathroom doorway.

  He turned and looked at her. “Tomorrow. She said to pack my things. I―well, I assume we―leave tomorrow.” He wet his brush and started scrubbing.

  “You want to leave me, don’t you Henry?”

  He could see her distraught face in the mirror. Her eyes caught his. Her limp trembled.

  “You don’t love me, do you?”

  CHAPTER 5

  -Location Unknown-

  “Ah, Steven, let’s take a closer look at you,” Charles said. He held a pen light in his mouth and pushed the zombie’s eyelids open with his thumb. The pupils didn’t dilate one bit. The eyes glanced side to side. “Hmmm,” Charles said to himself. He grabbed a clipboard and made some notes on a chart.

  Steve strained against his shackles. Charles kept writing.

  The zombie snapped his teeth, inches from Charles’s face. He jumped back. His clipboard clattered on the floor.

  “Cripes, Steve!” he said, “You almost bit my ear off. Don’t be a Tyson.”

  The zombie groaned at him.

  “Alright, alright. I guess it’s Mountain Dew time.” He checked his watch. “Huh, I’m about an hour late. Guess I better be more careful.” He waddled over to a two-door commercial fridge and popped open one door. “What will it be, ‘Voltage’ or ‘Super Nova’?”

  Steve’s jaw clamped open and shut a few times.

  “No, we’re out of the original. Pardon me, Steve, but I drank it all. Just hold on.”

  He twisted the cap off, stood on a stool, and held the bottle over Steve’s head. Steve tilted his head back and his jaw opened and closed.

  Glug. Glug. Glug.

  “I hate that sound. Gives me the chills.” He shivered. “Bottoms up, Steve.” He poured the reddish liquid down the zombie’s throat. It gulped every drop down. Charles shook his head. “I’ll never, ever understand how that works.” With
the briskness of a routine he practiced twice a day, he stepped off the stool, scooted it back against the wall with his foot, and tossed the bottle away, all in one motion. The trashcan was almost full of bottles again. He groaned.

  “Better check the others.” He looked at Steve. “Feeling better, Mister Cranky?”

  Steve grunted. His head started rolling left and right.

  Charles opened up a cabinet on the wall and twisted the lid off a blue jar. Sticking his finger inside, he rubbed Noxzema under his nose. He twisted the lid back on and put it up.

  “I wish you dead people didn’t smell so much.” Charles had figured on getting used to the smell by now, but for some reason he never did. “Stinkers.”

  Charles headed to the next zombie-filled table. It was another man, not so different than Steve except lying down. An IV marked DEW hung from a hanger like a blood sack. Its eyes were closed and the liter-sack of Dew was over half filled.

  “Heh, heh, hew, Zombie Dew.” He grabbed a handkerchief and patted the sweat on his head. “I’ll never get over it. Frickin Nate McDaniel. What a putz!”

  There were three others he tended to, one by one. The last one’s Dew bag was empty. “My, you are a thirsty little lady, aren’t you?”

  It was a large woman with long hair. She was the biggest one of them all. He grabbed another liter of Dew from the refrigerator and switched it out. He checked her bonds. Her eyes were still closed. “Irene, you used to be the funniest woman on TV. Made me laugh all the time when I was a kid. ‘Nobody Messes with Momma’ was my favorite show. And now, here you are, strapped to a gurney. But don’t you worry.” He pinched her cheeks. “I’m pretty close to getting you back on your feet one day.” He showed a gap between his fingers. “This close.”

  He sauntered over to the wall of cold chambers that held all the other bodies. There was a temperature gauge on it. He tapped it with his finger. “Damn thing should be digital. It’s always fogging up.” He wiped the moisture away. It read 30F. “Good.”

  There were twelve of them stacked in three rows of four. He opened up the first one.

  “Ah,” he said, basking in the cool mist. He slid the table out. A zombie lay there, bald, frosted and sort of blue. Charles knocked on its chest, making a hollow sound like wood. He smiled. “Another part of my genius. You can freeze zombies and make them easier to transport. Then just thaw then out in the sun.” He patted himself on the back. “I got this job because of that one. Heh. Heh.”

  The watch on his wrist started buzzing.