Lucky for Jackson, he’d only had to wait a few hours. The next morning, the sun barely up and the sky painted in brilliant shades of orange and pink, Colton had been given a solo assignment outside the wall. Jackson had been there waiting for him, and when his blade had cut into the other man’s spinal cord, it didn’t matter that Colton was nearly a foot taller. He had dropped to the ground like a useless pile of meat, his eyes full of terror as he waited to discover his fate. That had been a very satisfying day for the need.
Jackson had barely made it home and had just finished washing Colton’s blood from his hands when Meg showed up at his house, her eyes teary and full of shock at having just learned the horrible news, and Jackson had been there—as usual—to wrap her in his comforting embrace.
He’d wanted her for so long now that he was no longer sure if it was still Meg that he wanted or just the surge of victory that would come when she finally gave herself to him. Not that it mattered. There was no going back. His father’s plans for the future had always centered on Meg, and that hadn’t changed. Jackson needed her at his side and that was all there was to it.
It was just after eight o’clock in the evening when Jackson made it home from dropping off Meg, and the large house was so empty and silent that his footsteps echoed through the halls as he headed to his room. His father was probably still at the CDC, being the Regulator of New Atlanta involved a lot more than politics, and late nights at work were a normal part of life. Especially these days. After two decades of failed experiments and near misses, they were finally making some real progress. The last few weeks in the labs had been thrilling.
The road here had been a long one, despite his father’s genius. It seemed that every corner Garret Star had successfully turned over the years had led them to another hurdle, and every solution he’d come up with had presented yet another set of complicated problems. Angus James had turned the tides, but the end goal had remained just out of reach for many years.
Not that Jackson had ever doubted that his father would do everything he had set out to accomplish.
Garret Star had graduated from high school and headed off to college at the young age of thirteen. From there he had gone on to study evolutionary biology and virology, earning multiple degrees in both fields by the time he was in his early twenties. As a genius, Star had often found himself feeling separated from his peers. First in high school when he was years younger than the other members of his graduating class, then in college when he would find himself sitting at home alone on Saturday nights while everyone else got wasted at keggers and frat parties.
In his solitude Star had turned to comics for comfort, feeling especially drawn to the ones that featured creatures that had come back from the dead. The concept had nearly consumed him, and he’d spent years tearing through the neatly drawn pages between studying and lab work, imaging a world in which such things could happen.
Time had moved on, but the idea had stayed with him, tucked safely in the back of his mind as he left college and his career took off. He’d earned a position at the CDC right away, barely more than a research assistant in the beginning. In those early days Star had spent his time working on projects that were overseen by doctors with decades more experience than he possessed, but who had lacked the mental aptitude or vision to do anything really great with their lives.
Thanks to his unyielding determination to achieve scientific immortality, Star had moved up in the ranks quickly, gaining access to some of the more top secret projects within his first two years at the CDC. He worked on assignments that dealt with biological weapons and viruses that were so deadly few people even knew of their existence, studying them in hopes of learning their weaknesses. But in his free time, Star was secretly conducting his own research. The comics that had kept him company throughout his early years had become so rooted in his brain that he’d found it impossible to shake the concept. What if he could bring someone back to life? What if he could create a zombie-like creature?
It was one of the top secret projects he was assigned to at the CDC that had finally given Star the answer he’d been looking for. While Jackson had never learned the original goal of Project Chronos, he did know that the research his father did on it helped lead him to where he was today.
The first time Star’s group managed to reanimate a dead monkey, he had acted shocked right along with the other scientists. He hadn’t been, however, because bringing the primate back from the dead had been Star’s goal from the very beginning. While other doctors working in the CDC had worried about viruses being used to wipe out the human race, Star had had a totally different kind of biological weapon in mind. A virus that would keep the human body going even after all the life had been drained from it.
The idea had first come to him during his comic book days, and no matter how hard he’d tried or how many projects he’d taken part in, Star had never really been able to shake it. Zombies had seemed impossible to him at first. A creature that was fun to read about or watch on television when there was nothing better to do, but one that could never really exist. The idea that the brain could somehow keep working long after the body had died should have been preposterous. But as Star got deeper into his studies he began to wonder if he couldn’t in fact create such a being. Unlike the ones within the pages of his favorite graphic novels, though, he imagined a creature that had no will of its own, but would be more than capable of following orders. It would have a purpose much greater than simply eating human flesh, and that purpose would be to serve Star.
He knew that the first thing he had to do, however, was to greatly reduce the number of people on this retched planet. Timing was everything, though. He’d to make sure he had thought everything through. Had to make sure he was in the proper position and had other people who could help him achieve his goals after the disaster. If he was going to risk everything and everyone on the planet, he needed to make sure he was ready for the avalanche that would follow.
By the time Chronos was released on the world, Garret Star had risen to the position of director of the CDC. Covering up his part in the breach had been easy since he was the one calling the shots, but pinning it on a terrorist group had been even easier. The Middle East had become more and more aggressive in their efforts to wipe out America, and even though a biological weapon wasn’t their usual style, no one doubted that they had done it. One group was even nice enough to step in and claim responsibility, although these details had been kept secret from the general population. No need to induce panic.
Facing certain doom, the CDC and every other major medical institution in the world had scrambled to find a vaccine. Unfortunately, the doctors who weren’t in Star’s inner circle had no idea that the virus was Chronos until it was too late, and the ones who were privy to that information had no intention of stopping it from spreading. Even better was the fact that a vaccine had actually been created before the virus was ever released, insuring that the proper people would survive the original outbreak and continue their work in the new world that came after.
The virus spread from one side of the country to the other, then across the globe, doing it’s job perfectly and killing more than eighty-five percent of the population. By the time the bodies came back, Star and his colleagues were safely locked away in the CDC, waiting for the initial mayhem to die down so they could move on to the next part in their plan.
Once the dust had settled, Star and his team got to work securing the streets around the CDC and calling on survivors to take shelter in the area. They provided stability for people who were still shell-shocked from loss while also establishing themselves as the new face of the country. Although he stayed behind the scenes at first, no decisions were made without Star’s approval, and nothing happened that he didn’t personally have a hand in.
His plans ran deeper than just controlling the government, though, and in order to move to stage two, Star needed to get his hands on some of the people who had carried natural immunities to the vi
rus. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was that none of those immunities stuck with a person once bitten by an infected corpse, and it didn’t take long for Star and his team to realize that they needed someone else. Someone with enough antibodies in their blood that they could survive even a bite.
Someone like Angus James.
Jackson learned bits and pieces of the truth as he grew, his father feeding the information to him a little at a time as he judged it to be important. Thankfully, Jackson had not only inherited his father’s genius, but his aptitude for science as well, and with the proper culturing, he grew into a person even more lethal than Garret Star had ever been. Both inside and outside the lab.
It wasn’t until Jackson started his apprenticeship at the CDC, however, that he had learned Angus James was still alive. He’d been fifteen then and his father, knowing that children had the tendency to run their mouths off, had kept that little morsel a secret. Jackson, like everyone else in the settlement, had heard rumors that James was alive and being held in the CDC, but had never really believed it. Finding out that it was true was a pleasant surprise. Even better than that, though, was finding out what his father was actually trying to accomplish with the blood of Angus James.
Twenty years had passed and they were finally getting close. The virus they had cultivated now created creatures that were very different from the original flesh-eating monsters that roamed the world. These new zombies were a hybrid, not quite dead but definitely not human, and even though they didn’t take orders the way Garrett Star had envisioned, they were much closer to the mindless drones his father had always wanted to create. Just a few more tweaks and they would be there. Jackson could feel it. Then all the useless men and women being held in DC could be infected and they would have their army, and when that happened, there would be no stopping them.
Jackson thought it all through as he slammed his knuckles into the punching bag he’d set up in his room. The need had gotten stronger on his walk home and more than anything right now, he wanted to get some of his aggression out. Over and over again his fists hit the firm but pliable surface in front of him, the bag swinging back and forth as an ache spread through his knuckles. But the desire inside him didn’t ease. Sometimes exercise worked, sometimes it didn’t. There were times when things got really bad and Jackson would have to resort to searching the streets for someone to take his aggression out on. Anyone would do, really. A bum passed out in an alley, a whore in shantytown, or even an unsuspecting woman he picked up in the entertainment district. The need wasn’t picky when it came to blood and violence.
Jackson only stopped hitting the bag when the ringing of the telephone echoed through the still house. It was Meg. Would he like to go to the entertainment district tonight? She and Charlie needed a break. Jackson smiled to himself as he agreed, feeling satisfied with this turn of events. Not only did it seem to prove that he and Meg had made progress in their relationship, but he also knew the fight would help feed the need. Especially if the zombies managed to win and he got the chance to see some real blood spilled.
It was rare that Meg went out in the evenings, and Jackson saw this invitation as a sign that he had in fact broken through some invisible barrier. That Meg was thinking more and more about her future and how much easier her life would be with Jackson in it. She was almost there. All she needed was a little push.
Chapter Two
Blood was the only thing that would be able to distract Jackson from the skin the waitress in front of him was so brazenly displaying. Meg sat to his left, eyeing the crowded room like she wasn’t sure how she’d ended up here, while on his right sat Charlie. After the waitress had left, Jackson took the opportunity to look Meg’s cousin over, studying the way her tight shirt clung to her curves. He found himself imagining that they were alone and she was stripped down, tied to his bed. The gag in her mouth prevented him from hearing her cries, but the terrified expression in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
It was a scenario he would probably never get to play out, but one he’d imagined many times in the past. Unlike Meg, who was petite and thin, Charlie was built like a woman. She wasn’t afraid to highlight her body either, and she gave off the impression that she wanted attention. Probably not the kind of attention Jackson wanted to give her, but that was the risk she ran by carrying herself the way she did.
Of course, there was always the possibility that the family wouldn’t fall in line. Maybe then Jackson would get the chance to live out his fantasies.
Once the fight started all images of Charlie and sex were chased from his mind by thoughts of the violence and blood that would soon come. These fights always did that to him. Made his brain come to life in ways nothing else could. He focused his thoughts until only the sights and sounds of bloodshed were allowed in. Knuckles slamming into flesh, the crack of bone, the coppery smell of blood. Even the foul stench of the thick, black liquid that ran through the zombies thrilled him. It all worked together to feed the need until Jackson felt like his body was buzzing. It was a drug to him, and the high he felt in the midst of violence gave him a sense of euphoria that would rival the strongest street drugs available these days.
Out of nowhere the zombie in the ring got the upper hand and the fighter went down, his back slamming into the ground with a thud that Jackson felt vibrate through his own body.
“He’s out,” he said, the words coming out almost gleeful.
At his side, Meg shook her head, her eyes glued to the ring. “No.”
She was right, and faster than anything Jackson had ever seen the fighter was on his feet again and the zombie who had been ready to kill him had taken his place on the floor. The violent way the man’s boot slammed into the creature’s head caused a maniacal smile to spread across Jackson’s face that widened with each crack of bone. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look, silently wishing that the blood gushing from the zombie was bright red instead of black. He imagined someone else on the floor, taking the zombie’s place. Colton. Yes. The face of the dead asshole that had dated Meg was suddenly there in the ring, his eyes wide with terror as the fighter crushed his skull with the heel of his boot.
If only Jackson could kill him again.
The second zombie’s death was so gruesome and violent that Jackson didn’t even mind that the blood was black. The fighter gripped the creature by the throat and squeezed, his fingers sinking into the rotten flesh and getting lost in a sea of black blood and gray skin. His hand was buried up to the wrist when he finally twisted it to the right, snapping the zombie’s head right off. It fell, along with the body, dropping at the fighter’s feet with a thump that sent a shiver shooting through Jackson.
If only he could have that kind of power over a person. If only his father would let him loose on someone. Let him do his worst with no restraints.
One day.
Jackson’s head was still spinning when the fight ended, and he hadn’t yet come down from his high when Meg said she needed to use the bathroom. The place was a cesspool and he couldn’t imagine using the bathroom himself, but after only a moment’s hesitation, he let her go. Best to let her see what the world without him could be like: dark and filthy and as foul as the blood that ran through the zombies. Maybe then she would come to her senses and finally realize that Jackson was the best thing for her.
Charlie disappeared shortly after Meg did, heading to the bar with a man who was not only too old for her, but not nearly good-looking enough.
Jackson wasn’t stupid. He may have been smaller than a lot of men, but he knew there was something about him that women liked. His looks or his power, or maybe it was a combination of both. Either way, he had worked hard to cultivate it over time, learning how to turn the charm on so it hid the darker part of himself from people when he needed it to. He did that with women quite often, but not always. There were times when he wanted the woman in front of him to know exactly what lay hidden just below the surface.
He headed for the bar a
s well, his sights set on the waitress with the pink hair. The track marks in the crooks of her arms told him how rough her life had been, and she was young and attractive enough for Jackson to want to take advantage of that little morsel. The dress she wore was nothing but strips, making it look like someone had tied her up, and as he walked, he imagined tightening the binding until her white flesh turned pink and tortured. The image aroused him and clouded his brain until he had trouble focusing on anything else.
“Get you a drink?” the girl asked when he stopped in front of her. There was hesitation in her gray eyes, but the smile she gave him was welcoming.
“Sure.” He slid a few credits across the counter. “Just a shot.”
She nodded, but when she lifted the bottle her hands were shaking and some of the brown liquid splashed across the counter. She didn’t meet his gaze when she slid the glass to him. His hand wrapped around the shot glass before the waitress had a chance to let it go, and her entire body jerked. He lingered longer than necessary, savoring the fear that radiated off her.
She stepped back when Jackson finally released her, her eyes still down. Not that it mattered, Jackson’s own gaze was focused on the flesh peeking through the black fabric as he threw his shot back. There were so many things he could do to her, and he knew that if he took the time to turn on the charm, it would be easy. She’d thank her lucky stars that someone like Jackson was paying her attention. She’d do whatever he said, go wherever he wanted to go…
Someone cleared his throat, dragging Jackson from his daydreams about what he could do to the waitress. He turned to find the fighter standing behind him, black blood still splattered across his skin, and his hands clenched like he was hoping to shed more blood. Jackson knew the feeling.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 35
