Zombie Warfare: Impact Series - Book 3

by Craig Halloran

  Rudy had a point. His fuzzy pie face seemed concerned as well. Still, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling. The Red and Green lights like the Day Care had a chilling effect. It made him think of Jimmy and his stepfather Stanley. It made him wonder what he was doing exactly. What his purpose was―if he even had any. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Leaned back in his chair. Accept the madness. Accept the despair. Life just isn’t fair.

  “Henry,” a soft voice said.

  He turned in his swivel chair towards the table. Tori was on the opposite side.

  Now what? Am I talking too much to Rudy now?

  “Yes?”

  She got out of her chair and walked to the far side of the room.

  “Would you come over here?”

  He hesitated.

  “Please?” she added.

  He met her at the spot.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  She whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently rubbed them up and down. He didn’t know why he said it, but he did. “So am I.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

  “I’m so tired of this.”

  “What,” he said, “us fighting?”

  She shook her head no in his chest.

  “No, this zombie crap. I’m sick of all of it.” She sobbed. “I want to go home, and I don’t even know where that is.”

  He felt guilty. Torn. Tori was there because of him. He wished he’d gotten out long ago. But the pay was great. Stan had been there, and Tori. He’d had everything. Sort of. Assuming the Living Dead didn’t bother you. The study. The experiments. The Power. It was all fascinating. But the price for knowledge was taking its toll. He felt cold. More dead than alive. He tilted her chin up and held her sweet face. “Maybe this one won’t be so bad.”

  “I hope not.” She dug her nails into his back. “But it’s always bad.

  Ding.

  A different door’s light turned from red to green. All eyes fell on Henry.

  He shrugged

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Everyone moved towards the door. Henry was the first one there and reached for the handle.

  The door popped open.

  Tori gasped.

  Rudy’s soda splashed on the floor.

  Jake filled the doorway.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said. He pushed the door aside with his back and stepped out of the way. “Come on in, but leave your stuff here for inspection. Sorry for the wait.”

  Henry’s breath eased. The next room was huge. One of the old department stores. Gutted and white washed. The high ceiling was missing some tiles and the air handlers rattled above. It was cold. The old carpet and tiled floors were still there, leading from department to department. The door snapped shut behind them and Jake walked by.

  “Follow me,” Jake said, walking along with a slight limp in his step.

  “Jake,” Henry said, stopping, “We never got any clarification on what happened at the Rehab. You do know that we almost died in there. And someone needs to be held accountable.”

  Jake stopped and turned like a grizzly. Thick chested, his shoulders rolled a bit.

  “Listen, Henry, I only know what they tell me. And what they told me is that it’s been Dealt With. Won’t happen again. I’m not one to argue with the ones that sign my paycheck, and life’s pretty good around here.” He offered a tight smile. “And it’ll be pretty good for you around here too. Trust me.”

  “That’s what they said the last time,” Tori said. “Do you know about the Day Care? About what happened there?”

  “Like I said, I know what they tell me. You’re here now, and I think it’s a good assignment. Personally, I’d like to say I’m glad to have you.” He started walking again. “I think what we’re doing is really exciting. Creepy, yes, but exciting. I think you’ll like it here too.”

  Rudy clapped his hands.

  “Sounds good to me. College towns have always been fun.”

  “Sure,” Rod added, “Assuming we’ll be able to leave here from time to time.”

  “You’ll have more off-campus time than at those other facilities,” Jake said, “at least more than at the Rehab, that is. That’s always been a bad assignment. They keep people cooped up too long in there.”

  Jake approached the entrance from the department store to the inside of the mall and stopped at the gate. It was one of those grids made of tubes of metal that lifted up. Henry found the key lock in the center. The mall was dim and black on the other side. The area looked like the old Food Court. He squinted but couldn’t read the signs.

  Tori wrapped her arm around his

  “Is someone walking around in there?”

  Henry rubbed her hand and squinted harder. Something or someone was moving.

  Jake lifted a small black radio off his belt.

  “Showtime, ladies and gentlemen.”

  He keyed the mic with his thumb.

  “Fire up the lights,” Jake said.

  Henry crept closer to the gate. He could feel Tori breathing on his neck.

  The lights popped and flickered overhead. They made an eerie hum.

  Rudy had his bearded face pressed against the gate. Rod stood tall at his side.

  “What the …”

  The muscles tightened between Henry’s shoulders at the next distinct sound.

  “Num-num. Num-num. Num-num…”

  A half dozen zombies staggered through the food court. Mumbling. Gaping.

  “You gotta be shitting me,” Rod said, eye cocked. “That is creepy.”

  Henry could see men and women wearing clean clothes. Polo shirts. Blue jeans. A zombie woman hobbled up and bumped right into the gate. Her sunken eyes wandered.

  “Num-num.”

  “Are those Buckle jeans?” Tori said, exasperated. “She’s got five hundred dollar pumps on. That’s more than mine!” Tori’s cheeks flushed. “Henry, she’s got makeup on too.”

  Henry and the others moved backward. He could see the horror on everyone’s faces. It made him think of his mother, Brenda, and what Stan had done with her, dressing her up like that.

  “What’s going on here?” Henry said.

  “I’ll let the others explain that,” Jake said. He put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. It’s a good thing. Rod, you come with me. You’ll be assigned to security.”

  “Huh,” Rod said, tearing his eyes away from the food court. “What are they supposed to do?”

  “They’ll be fine,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.

  Henry turned.

  Two women stood on the other side of the gate with the zombies. A short brunette and a tall dirty blonde. Casual in dress. Pretty. The zombie woman wandered off. They both smiled.

  “I take it you’re not zombies,” Henry said.

  “No,” the brunette said. She smirked a little. “We’re your WHS tour guides.” She stuffed a key in the lock and twisted. “Welcome to the Zombie Outlet.”

  The dirty blonde pushed the gate up with a grunt.

  “Come on in. Don’t worry, the zombies don’t bite. Just make sure you don’t cut in line.”

  Rudy was the first one to step through. He extended his hand to the blonde.

  “Hi, I’m Rudy.”

  “Hi, I’m married.”

  Rudy turned to the brunette.

  “Me too,” she said. She slammed the gate down behind Henry and Tori and locked it tight.

  “Henry,” Tori said, scanning the wandering zombies, “this gives ‘shop till you drop’ a whole new meaning.”

  “More like ‘shop till you drop dead,’” Henry said.

  ***

  “So Rod, how long have you been doing security?” Jake asked.

  The pair of men had made their way back to the large break room and gone into another door. The corridor led to a set of stairs and up into another room. Rod breathed easy. I
t was all security. Big screen monitors. The hum of computers. Living bodies at work. He caught a glimpse of the images on the screen. Zombies wandered throughout the mall in everyday clothes. One even pushed a stroller.

  “Rod?” Jake said, tapping him on the shoulder.

  “Oh,” Rod said. “Fifteen years, on and off. Well, I’ve got another gig.”

  “I know, Rod. Anyone that watches the Octagon knows who you are. I’ve seen you fight. You’re something.”

  Rod smiled. Nodded his chin.

  “Well, I remember watching you play, back in the day, Jake. You were something else yourself.”

  Jake slapped him on the shoulder. “Still am!” He let out a gusty laugh. “Come on, I’ll make introductions later. Let me show you where you’ll be working. Give you a feel for the place. I’ll take you to your quarters next.” He shrugged. “Not much, but comfortable. Private.”

  Rod followed along, eyeing everything. He saw three others in a room that was like the dispatch office of a large police station. Men. Casual in dress with headsets on. One nodded. Another tipped his ball cap. Seconds later he was inside an armory. Big. Racks of rifles. Shotguns. Automatics. Zombie Suits. Flack vests and helmets. A few things he’d never seen, and he’d seen a lot of things.

  “You guys don’t play,” Rod said, bobbing his chin. “I like it.”

  “They’ve got over a hundred of them out there.”

  Rod turned to him.

  “Zombies? You serious?”

  Jake’s voice was low.

  “They’re nuts. I know. And that’s why you’re here. They’re bringing more of the damn things.”

  “For what?”

  “Assimilation into society or something.” Jake grabbed a long black stick off the wall. It had a metal tip on one end. Buttons on a grooved out handle. “Our employers really think they can save the zombies.”

  “No, no, they can’t.”

  “I know that, and you know that. Hell, even the zombies know that.” Jake depressed the button on the handle. The end charged with blue sparks. Zap. Zap.

  “Nice,” Rod said. “What’s that for?”

  “Kinda like herding cattle.” He shrugged. “We have to lead them back to the Dew Trough to feed them, you know.”

  “Is that what I’ll be doing?” Rod stepped deeper into the armory, looking upward. “Herding zombies?” Something caught his eyes. “Say, that’s one of those—” He spun around.

  Jake jabbed the stick straight in his chest.

  Zap!

  Rod hit the ground hard.

  Jake shook his head. He reached up and grabbed one of the metal zombie masks from the shelf Rod was looking at.

  “No, you won’t be herding zombies. A crying shame too. They’ve got something else in mind for you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  -Washington, D.C.-

  It was a warehouse. Huge. One of many in an abandoned depot miles north of Washington D.C. At one time it was the hub of a thriving business, now just one of thousands gone belly up since the Outbreak. The roads were overgrown and full of potholes. The perfect place to hide an elite prisoner. Assuming you didn’t do anything stupid.

  Nate sipped his coffee. Checked his watch. Stared back out the dirty glass window.

  “Any minute now,” a voice said. She sounded like she was a mile away. A chair groaned. “Any minute.”

  Nate turned. Made the long trip over.

  The warehouse was fifty yards long and twenty yards high. Metal frame skeleton and rafters supporting a metal roof and walls. There were wood crates, broken, empty. Some pipes and conduit lay on racks for storage. Large bins decorated some of the walls, filled with nuts, bolts, nails and other rusting junk. There were machine tools. Industrial drill presses, planers, jigs and routers. A car lift and two cars. A minivan, white, and a four-door sedan, dark blue.

  He made his way over to the haphazard office in the middle of the room, two dozen yards from the trailer. Walker was leaned up against the trailer, foot hitched up on the wall, smoking. Oliver sat on the trailer steps, whittling a piece of wood.

  Nate sat down in the nearest chair with a grunt. Raised his foot on another, wincing. He wanted to take his shoe off, but didn’t.

  “You should try Vitamin C and B3 for that,” the woman said. She eyed some empty bags on the desk. “And lay off the Taco Bell. Eat better; feel better.” She sucked on a large Taco Bell cup filled with soda.

  Nate shook his head.

  “Hey, I’m younger,” she shrugged.

  Her name was Ashely. Auburn hair up in a bun. Electric blue eyes. Sweet. Friendly. Smart. Dressed in black from her boots to her neck. A shotgun, .45 automatic, and a revolver lay on her desk. Her office, what there was of it, was more desks and chairs, some laptops, ThinkPads and filing cabinets. Typical office gear. A jug of spring water on the cooler and cases of Mountain Dew stacked in the corner.

  “Did you get anything off that laptop yet?” Nate said. “It hasn’t moved since I got here.”

  “Hey, I’ve only been back a day.” She grabbed a ThinkPad off the desk. It was the one that Don’s nephew Jack had used. Her fingers danced on the screen. “It’s got really good encryption.”

  “Ugh,” Nate said, rolling his eyes.

  Ashley laughed.

  “Well, it had really good encryption,” she winked at him. “It’s all taken care of, Nate. Now let me see if I can find anything interesting.”

  “Just don’t connect.”

  “I’m not … any minute now.”

  Nate looked back at the trailer. Walker shrugged. Don had been in there almost two hours, alone with Louie. It wouldn’t be long before the Dew wore off. Not long at all. He turned his attention to Ashley.

  She was one of Walker’s people. Zombie Rebels, she and the others liked to call themselves. Ones that searched for the truth. There were only a handful of them. Quiet types. Effective. They used the old ways to find information. Avoided the Internet when they could. Didn’t hack from the same location. Folks that nibbled at bits and pieces. Putting together the larger puzzle without drawing suspicion. Old school, just not old.

  “Nate,” she said with her head down, typing, “I remember seeing you on an interview talking about your fiancé Jeanine. I thought that was horrible. Sorry for that.”

  An image of Jeanine popped into his mind. In the cell, drinking Dew. Crawling on the parking lot. Pressing her face through the glass of the convenience store. It was hard, so hard to remember the woman he had loved and lost without those things coming to mind.

  “I don’t think about it much, but thanks.”

  “I just wanted to say something. I didn’t mean to … pry, you know. You’re a hero though. Saved a lot of people.”

  He nodded.

  “Hmmm, this is interesting.” Her fingers drummed the screen. “He’s got some awesome video stored right on here. A good thing.” Her mouth formed an ‘O’. “Holy Shit, what are those things? Who are those people?”

  Rap! Rap! Rap!

  Nate jumped. Don was pounding on the door from the inside of the trailer. Nate moved to another chair and looked at the screen linked to the video camera inside with Don.

  Nate turned the mic and speakers on.

  Louie’s jaws were clamped down on Don’s belt. Grunting. Growling. The zombie’s meaty fingers were digging into Don’s sides. Don was screaming at the camera. Pounding at the door. “Get me out of here!”

  Nate spoke into the mic by the keyboard on the desk.

  “You going to tell us what we want?”

  “Hell yes!” Don cried out.

  “Let him out,” Nate yelled down to Walker.

  Oliver was already up and unlocking the door. He swung it open.

  Don burst through.

  “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

  Oliver grabbed Don by the waist belt. “Be still!” he said, “It’s just a little zombie.” He unclasped the belt.

  Louie tore the belt free with his t
eeth.

  Don stumbled down the stairs and crashed face first into the ground.

  “Bet that hurt,” Walker said.

  Louie staggered down the steps. Piled on Don’s feet.

  “No!” Don screamed. His face was bleeding. “I said I’d talk! Get it off me!”

  “Where’s the noose, Oliver?” Walker said.

  “Aw Crap, it’s under the trailer. Hold on a sec.”

  Louie chomped down on Don’s foot.

  Don cried out, “YEEOUCH! It bit me!” He kicked Louie in the face.

  “Just give him some Dew,” Nate yelled. He hobbled towards them with a bottle in his hand. “Bloody gout.” It felt like there were a thousand needles in his foot. He cranked his arm back. “Catch.”

  Walker snatched the bottle from the air. Twisted the cap off. He waved it under Louie’s nose.

  Louie’s head snapped over. Pupils enlarged. He spit Don’s shoe from his mouth.

  “Num num.”

  “That’s right, Dum-Dum. Time for num-num.”

  “Give me that, Idiot,” Ashley said. She snatched the bottle from Walker’s hand and stuffed it inside Louie’s lips. He wrapped his fingers around it and sucked in. Slurp! The bottle collapsed. Louie was still sucking. “Toss me another,” she yelled at Nate.

  “Damn,” he said, hobbling back with a grimace on his face.

  “Hurry!”

  Oliver dangled the zombie noose over Louie’s neck.

  “Don’t you dare,” Ashley said, her bright blue eyes cold as iron.

  Nate flung another bottle down.

  “Urk!”

  It bounced off Louie’s head.

  Ashley clenched her teeth. Glared at Walker.

  “I’ll get that.”

  He twisted off the cap and handed the bottle to her.

  “Here, Buddy,” she said, stepping backward. “Come and get it.”

  Louie’s jaw slacked. The crushed plastic bottle clattered to the floor. His eyes locked on the new bottle. Fingers stretched out.

  “That’s it. Grab it.”

  “Num num.”

  Slowly his fingers wrapped around the bottle.

  “Num num.”

  His mouth stretched open like a python’s. He stuffed it in his mouth … backwards. The soda spilled all over his shirt.

  “Aw, Louie,” Ashley said.