by Stephens, L.
@KillingJake nothing is ever free, everything comes with a nice fuck you. #ShouldOfGotPics
CHAPTER 50: GOOD MOANING L.A.
My life isn’t worth shit, Lynne thought. It never was. I deserve all of this fear. I brought it all on myself and even worse, on Ava. My life isn’t worth shit. It never was.
The alarm and automated warning had sounded every thirty minutes for the past five hours. To pass the time and keep her from over thinking worst-case scenarios, Lynne had unpacked and repacked the suitcase. She had also taken the time to dress Ava in more appropriate “run for your life” clothing: leggings, sneakers and a sweater over a long sleeve shirt. Even though they had been put on hastily, the shirt and jeans Lynne wore didn’t warrant changing. She did however strap a sports bra onto her fan favorites and put a pair of ankle high socks on—she had a feeling she might be running a lot today. Once the suitcase had been packed the best it had ever been packed, she emptied out her handbag, removing garbage and anything that was of no use in the present situation. She added things she found in the room like soap, bottles of water, toilet paper, a sheet and a steak knife from the room service tray. Next on the agenda was charging the portable charger she always kept in her handbag. She was surprisingly well equipped for this emergency, but it meant very little seeing as they were still stuck in the hotel room, twenty-five floors above the rental car that could get them out of there.
Ava had fallen asleep with a pair of noise cancelling headphones on. She stirred when the alarm and its recorded message played but had yet to wake up. There was no way Lynne was getting any sleep. She had turned the television on to a local TV channel and had been watching the events on ground level unfold. The TV had been switched to mute as Lynne held her cellphone to her ear. The news ticker that scrolled across the bottom of the screen read various catchphrases and limited information to keep the casual viewer intrigued and yet seemingly up to date. The phone went silent for a second and Lynne sat up.
“Hello?” Lynne asked, hope filing her chest.
“Please be advised, due to the heightened emergency in the city of Los Angeles we are receiving a high volume of calls. We ask that if you are not in immediate danger, stay where you are, maintain your safety and do not tie up this emergency line. If you have been critically wounded or are in company with others who have been wounded, please stay on the line and we will endeavor to receive your call. Calls will be answered in the order they have been received,” the 911 recording said.
Lynne ended the call and took the TV remote from beside her and turned the TV’s mute setting off. A middle-aged man, attractive and well-groomed in a dark suit and tie, was sitting behind the news desk addressing the camera. His muscular upper body, sharp jawline and closely cropped black hair, looked more suited to the gladiator pit than a newsroom. A graphic indicating his name as Roger Smith hung at the bottom of the screen.
“As we can see from the live pictures, police, army personnel and national guard are beginning to take control over the vicious mob,” Roger said in his well-trained anchorman voice.
The Greytech logo appeared, taking over the screen.
“This logo, which experts believe to be that of Greytech Industries, became the symbol of horror and distress in the small hours of tonight, after a group of marauders descended upon downtown Los Angeles,” Roger said as footage of one of the Greytech zombies on screen froze. “The attackers appear to be wearing a uniform bearing the Greytech Industries logo as they leave a trail of murder and mayhem.”
Cellphone videos of zombies attacking everyone in sight played on the screen.
“Joining us live in the studio is Greytech executive, Joy Tannen,” Roger said to the camera before turning to Joy.
Joy was seated next to Roger, dressed very sharply. Her face was fresh and vibrant, despite the weight of the world resting on her shoulders.
“Thank you for joining us, Joy,” Roger said, almost cheerfully.
“You’re welcome,” Joy said in a trained manner that showed empathy but no sadness or happiness. “I wish it was under better circumstances, and I want to extend the sympathies of Greytech Industries to everyone and their families who have been hurt in tonight’s unbelievable events.”
“Greytech Industries has come under great suspicion tonight for its alleged involvement in the mayhem,” Roger said, dipping his head towards her. “Can you explain what is actually going on?”
“Well Roger, as a large multinational company, Greytech Industries is an easy target for pranksters and those with evil intentions,” Joy said calmly.
“So you think this is some sort of elaborate prank?” Roger asked without missing a beat.
“I wouldn't go as far as to make that judgment just yet, Roger. In today’s technology rich world, it’s easy enough to recreate the Greytech Industries logo,” Joy said stressing her position. “But let me be clear. To think Greytech Industries could be associated with murder and mayhem is abhorrent. We are an American company, we are patriots and we denounce any involvement in what has happened.”
Footage of Max Michaelson leaving Greytech headquarters surrounded by reporters and flashing lights appeared on screen.
“Greytech founder and C.E.O. Max Michaelson was forced into retirement amid questions surrounding an explosion that killed seventy Greytech employees. Do you think this could be a related incident?” Roger asked coyly.
“As I said, Greytech Industries strongly denies any involvement with the radicals involved in tonight's mayhem. We will continue cooperating with the authorities, and I believe Greytech will be exonerated of all implications,” Joy said grimly. “Secondly—”
Roger put his hand to his ear as if hearing something in his earpiece. “Excuse me, I’ll have to stop you there, Joy. We are just getting information that the situation gripping downtown Los Angeles might be finally coming to a head. National guard and army personnel in conjunction with police and emergency response teams have set up roadblocks and seem to have the situation under control. The public is advised to leave downtown Los Angeles and surrounding areas, maintaining extreme care while doing so,” Roger said looking back to camera. “Officials also ask those trying to re-enter downtown Los Angeles to stay away for the time being.”
CHAPTER 51: DARK
I can’t except the truth, Lynne thought. I never have. I deserve all of this. I told myself a million lies just to make the pain go away, and now all those lies are coming back to haunt me. I can’t except the truth. I never have.
Morning light poured into the room as Lynne pulled the curtain open and tried to see if the coast was actually clear, but with the height of the hotel and density of the surrounding buildings she couldn’t see directly down. She looked to the TV and then to her sleeping daughter and made a decision. She really didn’t know what was in store for them outside the hotel, but the waiting game was too much to bear.
“Ava, wake up, darling,” Lynne said as she removed the headphones. “We have to go.”
Ava didn’t wake from her slumber. She always had been a heavy sleeper, so Lynne lifted her up so she was sitting upright, and she opened her eyes groggily.
“Where we going, Mommy?” Ava asked, rubbing her eyes.
“I don't know, baby,” Lynne answered. “We'll just go for a nice drive, how about that?”
“Is it safe?” Ava asked in a whisper, her eyes darting around the room.
Lynne smiled warmly at Ava and kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, darling,” Lynne cooed. “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world.”
Lynne eyed the suitcase and decided anything that was in there was replaceable and it might be better not to be encumbered—identification, a phone and a credit card was all you needed in today’s world anyway. Lynne pushed the couch out of the way enough so she could open the door, and after taking a deep breath she took Ava by the hand and led her towards it.
“Mom!” Ava cried, holding her ground a
nd refusing to move a step further.
“What is it, darling?” Lynne said, trying to remain calm and even.
Ava broke loose from Lynne’s grip, scampered over to the bed and took her doll by the arm.
“Oh, we can’t leave without Jenny!” Lynne said with a big smile.
Lynne was nervous; she was like a cat in a new home as she led Ava down the hallway by her hand. She could see tiny blood trails in the carpet and instantly she knew she had made a bad decision.
“Hello,” Rachel said distantly.
Lynne spun around to face the voice, pulling Ava behind her as she did. Rachel filled the open door, staring out at them. She looked terrible. Well, worse than usual. Her eyes were hidden away deep in her sockets. Lynne sensed something wasn’t right and slowly stepped back. She kept eye contact as she pushed Ava further away.
“Crazy night, huh?” Rachel said slowly.
“You came back?” Lynne asked, still moving away. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Rachel said, leaning hard on the doorframe. “We couldn’t get out. Where are you two going?”
“I think we are going to go for a drive,” Lynne said, inching away.
“Can you take us with you?” Rachel asked as she swayed.
The pause between replies had been getting steadily longer, and this alarmed Lynne.
“You don’t look so good, Rachel,” Lynne said, retreating even further away, not caring now that it was obvious. “You want me to call you a doctor?”
She may have seemed like she wanted to help, but whatever Rachel had, Lynne didn’t want it, and she didn’t want Ava anywhere near it either. She was just being nice. Rachel’s eyes shut and remained closed, and Lynne sensed her chance to turn and get the fuck out of there. As Lynne was about to take Ava and flee, Rachel let out a few muffled and garbled words before falling forwards like an old oak tree deep in the forest, landing flat on her face. Lynne’s eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open in terror as she saw Rachel’s back—a football-size chunk was missing from it, and blood and pus seeped from her wound. Becca staggered into the hallway, stepping on and over her mother’s back like she wasn’t even there. Her mouth was covered in blood and she had bite wounds all over her arms.
“Oh my God!” Lynne cried, restraining herself, trying not to step forward. “Are you okay, baby?”
Zombie Becca was stepping closer. Lynne wanted to help her, her maternal instinct was trying to envelope the small child, but her mama bear instinct to protect Ava was mauling it away.
“Becca, I want you to stop, okay?” Lynne said in a stern voice as she hurriedly backed away. “You need to go back into your room, like a good girl!”
In normal life this fucking kid didn’t take orders from her mother, so there was no chance the zombie version was going to give two fucks what Lynne was saying. Ava’s scream was like a starter’s pistol, and Lynne turned and picked her up, burying her face in her chest as she started the seemingly hundred-yard dash to the elevators. Lynne looked over her shoulder to see Zombie Becca was chasing them. She made a weird gurgle come giggle, like it was a twisted game. Lynne saw the elevator in the distance and just kept focus on it as she ran.
“Jenny!” Ava screamed.
Lynne felt Ava’s doll drop to the floor, but she just kept running. She looked back to see Zombie Becca pounce on it and she thanked God for Jenny’s sacrifice.
“What is going on out here?” an old man called after Lynne and Ava. “Haven’t we had enough drama here tonight?”
Lynne looked back again. Zombie Becca had discarded Jenny and was now leaping like a tiger onto the back of an unaware villager, latching onto the old man’s shoulder with her teeth.
“You little bitch!” the old man yelled as he grabbed her by the hair and threw her down the hallway towards Lynne.
“Help us!” Lynne screamed to the old man.
“Fuck off, you cunt!” the old man called back as he retreated back inside his room and slammed the door.
Lynne was openly sobbing as they reached the elevator. She mashed both buttons, anywhere was better than here right now, but she knew the elevator wasn’t coming.
“Mommy!” Ava screamed.
Zombie Becca had picked herself up and was coming towards them, seemingly running faster than before, and Lynne saw the emergency exit further down the hall. She knew it was their only hope. As she held onto Ava and her handbag, Lynne turned her back and ploughed through the emergency exit door. It opened with ease, but the turn was all the time Zombie Becca needed. She pounced and Lynne raised her leg to stop her from latching on to Ava, which worked, except that Zombie Becca instead latched on to Lynne’s exposed ankle with her blood-soaked teeth. Lynne screamed but her maternal instincts were still paramount, and she put Ava on the ground behind her, knowing that at the very least, she would be safe behind the door. She tried to kick Zombie Becca off, but the vice-like grip she had on Lynne was like a pitbull.
“Please, let go!” Lynne wailed as she hit Zombie Becca with her handbag.
She didn’t want to hurt the child. She obviously was sick and deranged, but it was becoming a matter of life or death. Lynne agonized over the solution for what seemed like an age before she closed her eyes and began slamming the door on the back of Zombie Becca’s neck. The little zombie looked up at her still with Lynne’s ankle in her mouth. There was no pain in her face, just menace. She wasn’t giving up this bone and Lynne had no choice. With all her might, Lynne slammed the door one final time on Zombie Becca’s neck, and her tiny little head separated from her body. The impact also released Lynne’s ankle from her jaws and her doll-like head rolled down the first flight of stairs and onto the landing of the floor below.
“Close your eyes, baby,” Lynne said, picking up Ava again and running down the stairs.
As they passed the head of Zombie Becca, her eyes followed them. The gurgling noises emanating from her mouth and severed throat were their montage music as they made their escape.
CHAPTER 52: TRUTH
“Unfortunately, we must recant our previous update. The situation in downtown Los Angeles is not under control. I repeat, the situation in downtown Los Angeles is not under control,” Roger said, holding his earpiece and looking straight into the camera. “As we reported earlier, armed forces have set up a perimeter, but the mayhem and carnage still remain within that area. Downtown Los Angeles is now under martial law. If you are in this location, please stay where you are. We’ll return shortly with more information and more of our exclusive interview with Joy Tannen of Greytech Industries.”
“We’re clear,” the floor manager said, beginning a mad dash of crew running around the set.
“Not too much, Denise. I want to look as masculine as possible,” Roger said as a makeup artist patted his cheeks with a brush. “This is going coast to coast, I don’t want to look like a faggot when this gets rerun!”
“You need some, Miss Tannen?” Denise asked as she worked on Roger.
“No thank you, I’m just going to go use the restroom,” Joy said, getting up.
“Come here, let me turn your mic off,” Roger said with a sly grin. “You don’t want any unfortunate recordings.”
“Don’t move, Roger. I’m going to go have a look at your face on the monitor,” Denise said as she walked away. “I’ll be right back.”
Joy turned and presented her back to him. She lifted the tails of the jacket up and Roger flicked the little switch on the small box attached to the waistband of her pants, and the light turned from green to red.
Joy swiveled the chair back around to face Roger, and he didn’t miss the opportunity, sliding his hand up and down her inner thigh. She didn’t resist; she could feel it coming. Roger had been throwing heat her way since they had met a couple years earlier. This was all part of the job, she told herself as he got closer and closer to her crotch. She knew it wasn’t. If she wanted his dick sucked, she had people for that, but this situation was bad, and she had needed
to take care of it herself. As he reached the top of her thigh, Joy pushed back with her feet, and the chair glided a few feet away from Roger. Joy smoothly transitioned to her feet, and, as she walked away, she seductively looked over her shoulder at him and gave the air between them the smallest of kisses.
Joy was worried. She knew if this chump and his team could work it out this quickly, the feds would already have at least five zombies in body bags, comparing dental records to the seventy-three supposedly dead Greytech employees. She knew there were more than that though, and she hoped the ones they had in body bags were part of the homeless outreach Max had been utilizing for research, not the employees he had supposedly killed. The thought of Max made her blood boil and she pulled out her phone.
“Take your time, Miss Tannen. We have something we need to cover before we resume your interview,” the floor manager said as he passed Joy. “Roger! You’re never going to believe this, we got video of Jessica Raven being bitten, and you’ll never guess who it is! We’re going to bump Miss Tannen for a couple commercial breaks. We’re going to milk the shit out of this!”
Joy walked into the large restroom and swiped through her phone before clicking on Max’s name. The number fifteen surrounded by parentheses stood next to it. She had been calling him every ten minutes since news organizations began hounding her, four hours earlier.
“So, I had to get on TV for you to answer me?” Joy asked, walking into a stall and closing the door behind her. She didn’t need to use the toilet. She just stood in the small cubicle and prayed no one would ever find her.
