Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2 Read online

CHAPTER 6

  Washington, DC

  Jack lifted his custom laptop and flipped open the screen, bringing the monitor to life. It was one of the perks of the WHS, the latest in computer technology. His busy fingers tapped on the screen as he began loading up data files of information that only a handful of people in the entire world had ever seen.

  “What are you doing, Jack? Are you doing to give me a PowerPoint presentation? You know I hate those things. Remember the last time … I think the Senators Grose and Sears were about to die in the middle of your presentation. I still don’t know who all of these people are that read and write bills all day long.”

  Jack laughed at the remark as a spark awakened behind his green eyes. “Yeah right. Those guys don’t read or write those bills. Some old man told me that once, not so long ago.”

  “Ha, ha … you remember that, do you? How old were you, twelve? I could’ve sworn you weren’t listening.”

  “Oh, I was listening alright. And I was ten.”

  Don reached over and scruffed up the thick brown hair on his head. The older man was smiling as his gray eyes set themselves on the images on the screen. “I hope you don’t want me to read all of that. My glasses are in the car, after all. Speaking of which … you want some coffee or something? I can have my driver bring over my Thermos. He’s really good at that.”

  Jack gave him a funny look and said, “How many Thermoses do you have in there?”

  “As many as I tell him to prepare.”

  “You really are a piece of work, Uncle Don.

  “I am, aren’t I? Now show me what you got,” he said, waving his arm up in the air. His armed escort made his way over from the car, Thermos in hand. Don closed the black case to his own custom computer, took the canister, twisted off the cup top, and filled it up.

  Jack could see the steam rising from the hot beverage from the corner of his eye and said, “Gee, you even filled it yourself. Impressive. You aren’t getting soft on me, are you?”

  “Some things, a man has to do for himself.”

  “Huh … Hey Oliver, you wouldn’t happen to have any Mountain Dew in there, would you?”

  The man remained stone-faced as he stared out into the horizon, still enjoying his smoke.

  Don dismissed the man with a nod saying, “Thanks Oliver, and don’t pay my nephew any mind. He doesn’t understand war-horses like us. Feel free to help yourself; by the way. It’s getting chilly out here.” Don took a sip and followed it up with a refreshing sigh. “Okay, get on with it. What’s the latest?”

  “First, it’s not a PowerPoint presentation, even though I do have one, but this isn’t that. It’s just some data I wanted to pull up to refresh my memory in case you insisted on seeing some numbers for yourself.”

  “Nope, I’ll let you handle the numbers. I stopped keeping track of those little things about ten trillion dollars ago. Just give me the results, the testing, or whatever you geeks refer to it as.”

  Jack shifted in his seat as he cleared his throat and said, “Since the acquisition of the XT Formula we’ve opened six new research facilities across the country, all of which are well concealed from the general public … well, from just about everyone, really. Now these are all separate and apart from the day-care facilities, one focusing on one area, and some on the others. One facility in particular is manufacturing the formula, while the others are primarily focused on using the formula for zombie rehabilitation.”

  “Zombie Rehabilitation, hah. Our employers sure come up with awfully clever ways of naming their experiments.”

  “You don’t approve?” Jack asked.

  “It doesn’t matter if I approve or not. I just think it’s silly. I mean, when the WHS was created I thought it was the biggest joke in the world. It was crazy enough that the world was turned upside down by zombies, but now you have a group of people trying to sell it to the public as a good thing. And the people are buying it. I’m even buying it, because I have to. I never believed in any of it to begin with.”

  Jack gave him a curious look and said, “Any of what, exactly?”

  Don’s face turned a little bit pale as his eyes darted away. He took another drink of coffee. Don started to cough, and one followed louder than the last until finally the fit stopped.

  “You okay?” Jack said, patting his uncle on the back.

  “Fine, fine, just getting chilly, I guess. Damn, I spilled my coffee,” Don said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the liquid off his expensive computer case. “Ah, it’ll be fine; it’s leather.”

  Jack had the feeling his uncle was trying to avoid his stare, and had changed the subject as his last question seemed to have struck a nerve. A very sinister feeling rose inside him. He wanted to know everything about the zombies. He had put in his time, and he deserved to know. Had his uncle known about the outbreak before it happened? His gut was telling him yes, but Don's expression was a de facto no. Over the years it had always seemed like there was something dark that hung over his uncle's head after the outbreak. He wanted to know what that was. As a senior advisor in Washington for decades, he knew that his uncle knew things, things that only the world’s most powerful men and women may or may not know. He wanted to press the issue. He’s getting old. He’s gotta tell me more.

  “Now where were we, Jack?”

  “Well, you said ‘I never believed in any of it to begin with,’ and I asked, ‘Any of what?’ And you were about to say …”

  Don refilled his cup and said, “Oh, I see what you're hinting at. Easy Jack, what I meant was when they first reported the zombie outbreak in Washington, I didn’t believe a word of it. I’m almost eighty. I’ve seen things happen in my lifetime that I never could have imagined as a child. About ten or twenty years ago, I began to believe that just about anything could happen. Cell phones, computers, the Internet. But zombies?” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding me. To an old Catholic warrior like me, it might as well have been the apocalypse.”

  The words seemed sincere enough, but the pitch in his uncle’s voice wasn’t as convincing as it normally was. Jack paid closer attention.

  “Now the both of us work for a company that is a caretaker for zombies. Taking care of my parents before they passed away was one thing, but taking care of over a million zombies … mindless, useless and dangerous? It’s beyond conceivable. It’s frightening.”

  Jack sat at his uncle’s side, letting the falling sun warm his face with the last breaths of day. It wasn’t so long ago when he wondered if he would ever enjoy another sunset again as he reflected on all of the chaos that struck those many years ago. Now, his life couldn’t be any better. He had the zombies to thank for that. Old people never see the beauty in it.

  “Beautiful evening isn’t it?” his uncle said.

  “Sure is. You know, this might sound strange, but on days like this I think about Nate McDaniel and how he saved the world.”

  His uncle nodded and said, “With Zombie Dew of all the ridiculous things.”

  “Well, if you think that is ridiculous, wait until I tell you what they are using the XT Formula for now!”

  “Let me guess, they’re going to have zombies counting ballots next.”