Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3 Page 8
Don’t lurched in his chair. Sagged to the floor.
“What’d you do that for?” Nate said, alarmed.
“I hate liars,” Ashley said.
“Well shit,” Walker said. “I hope he didn’t piss himself again. Come on, Oliver. Let’s get him up.” He turned to Ashley. Held out his palm. “Toss it over.”
“Toss what over?”
“You know what.”
“Say please?” she said, toying with the remote.
“Puh-leaze,” Walker said, puffing out smoke.
She tossed it over.
He stuck it in his belt.
“Henry!” Nate said.
“What?” Ashley said.
“My friend Henry was in the Guthrie Facility.”
Walker’s cigarette fell from his mouth. He grinded it out.
“Walker,” Nate said, getting up. “What do you know about Henry Bawkula? What happened to him? I got him a job there with his stepfather, Stanley.”
Walker helped Oliver lift Don back into his chair. He had his back to Nate when he answered.
“Who?”
It felt like nails in his foot when Nate stepped over and grabbed Walker by the shoulder.
“You know who. Exactly who. Don’t you.”
Walker gently shoved him off.
“Yea, but I don’t know what’s happened to him now. He moved on. Transferred after the debacle at the Day Care.”
“What debacle?” Nate asked.
“It’s over now,” Walker said. “Doesn’t matter. Just have a seat. We can talk about it later.”
“Sure we can,” Nate said, plopping back in his chair. “Sure we can.”
He bit his nails. Walker was an insider. A double spy of sorts, but Nate still didn’t feel he could trust the man. Or any of them, for that matter. He just didn’t have any choice right now. There was nowhere else to go and he had to help people. Henry. The last Jumble he’d sent Henry popped into his mind. CPWWSZH. Crap!
“When did this incident happen exactly?” Nate said. “Did it happen near the time I was assassinated, so to speak?”
Ashley’s chair squeaked when she turned away.
Oliver shrugged his broad shoulders.
Walker nodded.
“Yes.”
Nate’s temperature jumped.
“And you knew? And people died?”
“I’ve seen lots of people die. Just be glad your friend wasn’t one of them.” He puffed on his cigarette. “And I was part of the clean-up, not the execution, so to speak.” Walker turned his attention back to Don. The man’s chin sagged on his chest. “Shit Oliver, splash him with some water or something. Pronto.”
“Great,” Nate muttered.
Guilt set in. His text must have endangered his friend. Henry was bright. A loose end. It would hurt if anything happened to Henry because of him. They’d been best friends in college. Rivals too in a friendly sort of way. Henry worked hard for knowledge. To Nate it came easy. Too easy. He envied Henry’s drive though. He lacked that ethic. He wished he had Henry around now. Henry gave him good guidance, but Nate didn’t often listen. He scratched his chin. I’m not that guy anymore. Am I still a bullshitter? Charmer? Who the Hell am I?
He wheeled his chair over to Ashley and scooted alongside her.
“Uh … excuse me?” She glared at him.
“Say,” he smiled, “you mind pulling up what you were about to show me earlier? That sure would be nice.” He glanced at her nails. They were black, white tipped with gold designs and beads on them. “Those are pretty sweet. When did you get those done?”
She stopped typing.
“Oh, well, thanks,” she said, her face flushed a little. “I get them done once a week. It’s one of my things.”
Nate nodded, still smiling.
“It’s a nice thing.”
Her bright eyes locked on his.
“Okay.”
He petted her arm. I’ve still got it. Must be the voice. Maybe the eyes. He leaned closer to the screen.
“What was that thing that startled you before?”
“Uh,” she shook her head. Blinked hard. “That’s right.”
Her lacquered fingernails danced on the keys. An image popped up. Zombies suited up in the heavy canvas Z-Suits. The image bobbled. Dropped up and down.
“Oh that’s not the one,” she said. “There’s dozens of them saved on here.”
“No, leave it,” he said, squeezing her arm.
She looked at him.
He released his fingers.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to crowd your space.” Nate’s eyes widened. “Are they wearing helmets? What are those? Skull faces?”
“Kinda cool,” Ashley said.
“Who’s holding the camera?” Nate said. The image remained unsteady. “A zombie?”
The body suits covered the bodies from neck to toe. The skull masks covered everything but the mouth. The jaws chomped and bit. The zombies scurried around the room in quick jerky motions. They were fast. Their motions ravenous.
He looked at Ashley.
“Pull up another?”
“Okay.”
She clicked a file and another window popped open on the screen.
The image was dark. Shaky. Bodies in motion. A swarm of bodies fighting for their lives. Zombies gnawed on flesh. Ripped flesh from limps. Blasts of light burst everywhere.
“Ew!” Ashley said.
Blood flowed. Spurted. Faces screamed. Leg’s kicked.
“Where is this?” Nate said.
A big man stepped into the frame. Black. Fast. Arms like Hercules.
“Who’s that?”
Nate’s heart pumped in his ears. His stomach knotted. His fists clenched.
The big man tossed a zombie through a window. Slammed another one down. The images were bits and pieces. Black and bloody.
“Get him!” Ashley yelled.
“What are you guys watching?” Walker said, leaning over Nate’s shoulder.
Nate’s eyes flitted over the screens. He saw somebody in the background.
“Stop, go back!”
“No,” Ashley said, “I want to see the fight.” The big fighter went down in a heap of zombies. “Maybe not.” She paused the image on the screen.
“Go back two seconds,” Nate said.
She did.
There was an image of a man standing in front of a large series of windows.
Nate’s heart jumped.
“That’s Henry!”
“Damned if it isn’t,” Walker said.
“Oliver,” Nate said, turning around and pointing at Don. “Get him up!”
CHAPTER 17
-Location Unknown-
“You got those zombies thawed yet?” Charles said, sitting at the console chair. “The last shipment got up there three days ago. They should be moving now.”
“We got all of them warmed up but two that some knucklehead left in the ice truck. But we’ve got the others fitted and ready to go.”
“Idiots,” Charles said, adjusting his headset, mind racing. He couldn’t wait to unleash the next experiment.
Fingers working the keyboard, he sat back at his semicircular console, checking the monitors. One by one he logged into the cameras in the labs of Facility 105 in Morgantown, WV. The 1st screen on his left was broken down into twelve picture-in-picture screens, all currently blank. Screen two showed a lab. Screen 3 monitored the WHS personnel watching monitors. Screens 4 and 5 had shots from inside the mall. He could toggle through all of them. Hundreds. But that’s what he relied on the other WHS Monitors for.
“You want us to put them in the sauna?” a man said, stepping into his screen at the lab. He had a headset on too. WHS Security Team leader Jake.
“No,” Charles said. “I don’t like thawing them out too fast. And don’t you do it either. You guys would microwave them if you could. We’ve waited this long. Don’t rush it.”
“We just followed orders the last time.”
“Seems like a good plan when we need them field ready.”
“Seems like a good plan when we need them field ready,” Charles shot back. “Don’t be such a pinhead.”
“Alright, Charles. Alright.”
Charles rose from his chair and touched Screen 2, panning through the lab. Stopped and zoomed in on the man strapped to the table with his big chest gently rising up and down.
“So, is this our next candidate?”
Jake’s big frame lumbered into view by the table.
“Sure is. Trained soldier. Excellent reflexes. Prime candidate for a Zombie Soldier.”
Charles folded one arm under his elbow and rubbed his chin with the other, nodding. Sweat dripped down his cheek.
“Maybe a Zombie Super Soldier, by the looks of him. A much better fit than those NBA players. Who is this guy anyway?”
“Rod the Black Python or something. Octagon fighter. Champion.”
Charles rubbed his hands together. Licked his lips.
“Strong heart, sounds like. He should survive the process then. It’s a toss-up. Go ahead and bring the machines in.”
Jake dropped out of the picture. Charles sat down in his seat, grabbed a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his face. He hated sweating. He always sweated, even when it was cold outside. He craned his neck towards Steve.
“I wouldn’t mind being one of you sweatless morons for a day. Just not feel a thing. Not itching. No excreting. No flu. No nothing.”
Jake pushed a cart back onto the screen. Two other people accompanied him. A man and woman. They went to work sticking Rod with needles. Hanging sacks of liquid. Hooking up monitors. Jake held a mask with an oxygen type of tank on it. Placed it over Rod’s mouth.
“Will this keep him out?” Jake asked.
“For hours,” Charles said.
He tapped on the keyboard and altered Screen 3. A digital graphic of Rod’s vital signs came up. Blood Pressure. Pulse. So on.
“Everything’s a go. Now bring in the saliva.”
The woman departed and quickly returned with a plastic sack in her hand. The liquid was grey and milky. She hung it up on the metal IV stand.
Charles adjusted his wireless headset and kicked himself around in the chair.
“Grab the XT Formula too.”
“What?” Jake said, glaring up at the camera, stepping forward. “”We’ve barely got enough in supply for the soldiers we’ve got.”
“It’s all cleared, Jake,” Charles said. “Feel free to check it out. Shit, it’s synthetic, man. It’s not like you have to dive to the bottom of the Atlantic to fetch it.”
Charles was lying, but Jake wouldn’t know that. Stupid Jock. I ought to make a zombie out of you. The ingredients for the XT Formula were ninety-nine percent synthetic, but a few were natural. Grown. Rare. Science hadn’t been able to replicate synthetic options yet, but he hoped it was possible. Without them, so far as he could tell, the XT Formula wouldn’t work at all. But in the last few months it had taken him leaps and bounds, not only offering the slimmest possibility for a cure, but turning the zombies into monsters greater than even he had hoped for.
“I’m back,” Jake said, hooking the liter sack on the hanger and attaching it to the IV. He faced the camera and dropped his big hands, rubbed the muzzle of his .45 auto. “Are you sure this is alright?”
“Nervous, Big Jake?” Charles chuckled. “Afraid the Black Python might bust his bonds and eat you?” Oh, that would be great! I can dream.
Jake shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“The unknown makes me antsy. You, Charles, make me antsy.”
Good.
“Then why don’t you and the two lab coats get your butts out of the room then. You do know now to lock it from the other side, don’t you? Or do I need to do that too?”
Jake shooed the others away.
“I’ll stay.”
“How noble.”
I ought to be there. He wiped the sweat off his face. If only it were zombies running the place. Charles liked isolation. Not people. People bothered him. They talked. Smelled. Wanted to get to know you. He wanted privacy. Control. He got that from his father. Didn’t know his mother. Came home from school. Went to his room. Did his homework. Ate. Went to bed. Never went fishing. Never watched sports. Study. Study. Study. His father either prepared him for great things or didn’t want to deal with him at all. Damn people. Don’t need them all.
“Check those IVs again, Jake. Those straps too. He’s gonna flinch when the saliva pipes through.”
Jake sauntered around the table, checking the tubes and cords.
“Make sure nothing can get pinched or jerked.”
“I know.”
Saliva glands. Charles couldn’t take credit for that one. No, it was in the notes from Stanley Logan, top scientist at the Zombie Day Care. Deceased. Charles would have loved to talk to the man. His files and advances in zombiology were incredible. Even to Charlie. He didn’t know what happened to Stanley. He wasn’t a part of that. But at least he got something out of it. Stanley’s notes. Not all, which infuriated him. But some. And they revealed a deep, dark secret about the zombies. It had taken him weeks to decode it from what he had, but now he saw it. Simple. Brilliant. Untested until he’d gotten it. Extract fluid from the saliva glands of the zombie, the dead, and inject into the humans, the living. Yes! Uneaten zombies.
It had opened up an entire new world of possibilities. If he could figure out how to synthesize it, the WHS could spread it through vaccines and immunizations.
“We ready?” Jake said, fingering his pistol grips.
“I’ll inject remotely.”
Charles pulled up the commands on the computer. His finger hovered over enter.
“One … Two … Three …”
CHAPTER 18
-Morgantown, WV-
“Eek!”
“Get off me!”
“Aaaaaaah!”
It was a frenzy.
Rudy ran.
Tori kept screaming.
Jo Ann and Karen slapped at the zombies.
Henry, frozen to the wall, watched on with horror.
“Easy! Easy!” One of the zombies said. “It’s just us, Jo Ann!”
“Paul,” she screamed. “You idiot!” She shoved the zombie back. Pointed her finger at him. “I’m going to get you for that.”
Karen slugged the other zombie in the gut.
“Oof,” it said, going down with a groan.
“Payback, Craig. Payback.”
She and Jo Ann took deep breaths, smiled, and laughed a little.
“What is going on here?” Henry said, holding his heart.
“Sorry,” Jo Ann said, “I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”
“What part?” Tori said.
The two zombies popped forward, eyes on Tori.
“Hi, I’m Paul,” one said, sticking his hand out.
“And I’m Craig,” said the other, giving his head a quick bow and rubbing his stomach.
They were young, college age, medium height and build. Blond hair, light eyes. Dabbed with grey make-up of some sort. Twins. Paul wore a sweat shirt with the letters KA on the front. Craig’s shirt had the logo from The Darkslayer movie on it.
“Sorry,” Paul said. “We just got carried away.”
“Yes, very sorry,” Craig said. He presented his hand to Tori again. “And your name is?”
Tori smiled, took his hand in her zombie hand.
“My name’s Tori.”
Craig’s eyes popped open. He sagged to his knees.
“And don’t you ever do that again. Do you understand me?”
Craig’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Eyes watered. Head nodded quickly up and down.
“I can break it, you know,” Tori finished, letting go.
Paul pulled Craig up from the floor.
“I told you this was a stupid idea.”
“Really, Paul,” Jo Ann said. “You listened to your brother? I always expected better from you. I’m going to have to write this up, you know.”
Paul’s face turned long. Blue eyes pleading.
“No, please,” he said. “It won’t happen again. And Craig’s already on probation. We need this job.”
Jo Ann shooed them away with her hand.
“Just get out of here and don’t let me see you for the rest of the day. Got it?”
They both nodded their heads yes.
“Sorry,” they both said, and darted away.
“Shoot,” Karen said. “We need to find the other one. What was his name?”
“Rudy,” Henry said back. His spine still tingled. “Will you tell me what that was all about?”
“Let’s walk and find your friend, not that I really want to.”
“Well, he can cause trouble too, if we don’t find him.”
They walked. Karen called out for Rudy as they passed the zombies. Henry walked alongside Jo Ann.
“I’ve a feeling I’m not going to be surprised by what you’re about to tell me, but I should be, right?”
“Hey, nothing should surprise you anymore. Not in this world. But here’s the deal. The WHS, our employers, mind you, have a lot of college interns on the payroll.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“And they what,” Henry said, taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses on his shirt, “take the zombies shopping? Out to dinner? The movies?”
“Well, sort of. The idea is to assimilate the zombies into a common lifestyle. Recode them. Modify their genetic imprint with environment.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “I know it’s crazy, but it might be working.” She let go. “And the interns love the job. They like the clothes. Putting the zombie make-up on. You just have to have fun with it.”
“Fun with zombies?” Henry smirked. “Sounds like a good book title.”
“Huh, funny you should say that. One of the twins said he was writing a book about it. I forget which one.”
“How many of these interns are there?”
“Maybe thirty.”
“And they’re here all day and night?”
“We have shifts. Maybe ten at a time. They’re pretty good at what they do, so you probably won’t even notice them.”
Henry shook his head. His voice rose.
“This is Top Secret, isn’t it? The highest level clearance? How can you make sure they keep their mouths shut about what’s going on? Especially with Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and all that? There’s no way you can keep a lid on it.”
“That have so far,” Jo Ann said. “Not my department though. Yours either.” She stopped in front of a sporting goods store. A couple of zombies were bumping around inside. One had a Gold and Blue #9 jersey on. “They’re top students. Well rounded. Signed off on confidentiality agreements. No tech is brought in with them. And besides, they won’t risk losing a full scholarship … all the way through med school if that’s the path they’re taking.”