The Deadland Chronicles | Book 4 | Siege of the Dead:

by Spears, R. J.

  “Nothing can kill me,” Grayson bellowed.

  The force of Grayson’s utterance caused Holloway to jump back into Doc Wilson. The impact dislodged the canister, causing it to topple from Holloway’s hand.

  Both men reached for it as it fell, watching as the trigger side of the canister dropped toward the floor. They knew if it hit just right, it would spray a deadly neuro-toxin directly in their faces. Doc Wilson saw that there was no way that either of them would reach it in time, so he shot out his foot and kicked at the canister.

  Luck shined upon him as his foot struck the canister a glancing blow, knocking it sideways. It clanged against the tiled floor, landing on its side harmlessly, and rolled away from the two men.

  The smart zombie brayed with laughter.

  Normally a self-contained professional even during the worst of the apocalypse, Doc Wilson whirled on the half-dead creature and stuck a finger in its face.

  “You think that’s funny? Do you? Wait till we get it back and shove it right up your ass!”

  This only caused the smart one to laugh even louder.

  Darke, who had been watching from a safe distance, moved across the room to retrieve the canister. Holloway stood locked in place, obviously shaken by the mishap. He ran his hands through his slate gray hair repeatedly, and his lips moved, but he made no sound.

  Doc Wilson turned and put a reassuring hand on Holloway’s shoulder.

  “We could have been killed,” Holloway finally said.

  “But we weren’t,” Doc Wilson said, his voice back in a calm register.

  “You know, doctor,” Holloway said, “I’m in agreement with you. We should shove that thing up that wretched thing’s ass.”

  Darke strolled across the room, cradling the canister in his hands as if it were a bomb. When he got beside Doc Wilson and Holloway, he bent slightly as the waist while extending his hands.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes,” Holloway said, as he reached out and plucked the canister from Darke’s hands.

  Darke wasted no time and moved away, getting back at a safe-assured distance. Holloway looked in his direction and slowly shook his head back and forth.

  “Back to the task at hand, I guess,” Holloway said as he turned back toward the smart zombie. Holloway tried to look confident, but Doc Wilson noticed a slight tremor in the scientist’s hand as he extended the canister toward Grayson’s face.

  “None of the shit you used on me before worked,” Grayson growled. “What makes you think this will do anything?”

  What he said was true. Throughout the night, the scientist had tried several nerve agents on the zombie, but each time they saw no effect. It was as if they were spraying a perfume atomizer in the creature’s face.

  After each attempt, the two scientists upped the ante, employing a more deadly agent each time. They knew they were on the clock, but from past experience, they had also learned that zombies showed complete immunity to whatever they threw at them. But they also knew that this half-dead thing was not a pure zombie and lived in a no-man’s-land between life, death, and reanimation.

  Their big dilemma was that they had to administer the nerve gas but also protect living, breathing humans that had to deliver the gas in the field. That was a hurdle they had not yet crossed, but they knew all of it was folly if they couldn’t find something that incapacitated or killed the half-dead creature.

  In several heated debates between the two scientists, the final disposition of the smart zombie was argued. There was a part of these two scientists that didn’t want to outright kill the creature. It was a thing of incalculable value from a scientific perspective. In contrast, Doc Wilson didn’t care if they killed the half-dead thing a thousand times over. But, in the end, they agreed that they had to learn something from it to stave off the ones on their way.

  They all conceded that shooting the thing in the head was the easiest method, but with these half-dead creatures hiding in among the pack of zombies headed their way, that wasn’t possible. There would be no way to pick them out of the horde, and no one would be able to get close enough to do it. But they knew a gas, if delivered in the right way, could take the half-dead creatures down and possibly disperse the horde.

  When it came down to it, it was all conjecture. They were now in the “rubber meets the road” portion of the experiments.

  It was determined that Holloway would be the one to administer the spray. That meant he had to put on a full biohazard suit. The suit consisted of a mask with a face shield, heavy gloves, and an oxygen supply tank. When he got in the outfit, he looked more like an astronaut than a scientist.

  He ambled across the floor, wobbling back and forth, looking like a toddler learning to walk. Doc Wilson followed behind but still maintained a safe distance.

  Holloway leaned in over Grayson and said, “This one is called TRX-9. It’s the most powerful agent we have in our arsenal. I have a pet name for it. I call it Trixie.”

  “Fuck you,” Grayson said defiantly. “None of this shit bothers me, and this one won’t either.”

  Holloway looked back at Doc Wilson and said, “Doctor, you may want to step back.”

  Doc Wilson heeded the warning and took three long steps away from Holloway and the half-dead creature.

  Holloway put his finger on the canister’s trigger and slowly applied pressure, gradually increasing the tension by the second. In his head, he was counting and by the time he hit the number four, a green-colored liquid sprayed from the nozzle and into Grayson’s face.

  Involuntarily, Grayson closed his eyes when the spray hit his face. After two seconds, he opened them and glared at Doc Wilson and Holloway. His stare seethed with hatred that rolled off him in overheated waves.

  At first, nothing happened other than Grayson’s face looked wet, but the liquid shifted into a gas that enveloped Grayson’s face. It looked almost like a lacy mist covering his head, looking almost like a wedding veil.

  Holloway turned back toward Doc Wilson and asked, “Did you see that? It was a liquid, but it vaporized into a gas. How interesting.” He turned his attention back to Grayson.

  After five seconds of observation, Holloway took five steps back and joined Doc Wilson, standing by his side as both men watched expectantly.

  “Do you see?” Grayson screamed out of the mist. “There’s nothing you have that can affect me and my kind. You all are lost. They are coming, and they will swarm over all of you and pick the flesh from your bones. You will--”

  Something cut him off, and the mist dissipated from around his head and neck. Then his head started to shake slightly as if he had some kind of palsy. After a few seconds, it began to shake in earnest, interrupting his diatribe. The movements increased to more than tremors, progressing until his head was bouncing convulsively off the pillow.

  “This is noth--” Grayson tried to say, but his head bucked back onto the gurney so hard, the whole thing rattled.

  “Fascinating,” Holloway said.

  Darke couldn’t help himself and stepped closer to observe. Doc Wilson felt both relief and revulsion. He knew he had taken an oath of first doing no harm, but if this nerve agent killed the smart zombie, he knew he could live with that.

  Grayson’s body began to jerk spasmodically on the gurney. The motions were so violent that all three men feared that he might actually break the heavy mesh straps holding him in place. These seismic convulsions continued on, and the longer they lasted, the worse the creature looked. A thick froth spewed from its mouth as he grunted and groaned, sounding like a dying animal.

  This went on for nearly two minutes until, at last, Grayson strained mightily against the straps in one final convulsion and then collapsed onto the gurney, looking limp and lifeless.

  None of the men moved any closer but kept their eyes locked on the creature, observing whatever they could. Doc Wilson noticed a thick blood-like substance oozing from Grayson’s mouth and nose. Blackish-red liquid came from its eyes and leaked down its cheeks like tears.


  “Is it still alive?” Darke asked, but his voice seemed distant and remote.

  “I don’t know,” Doc Wilson said. “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Still, none of the men moved any closer. It was as if a stasis had fallen over the room, and it was like a magical spell. If they made the wrong move, it might be broken.

  But Holloway’s patience had his limits as he stepped closer to the gurney. “We have to know for sure, either way.”

  Holloway stuck out a hand toward the creature. As he did this, Darke moved his hand up to cover his mouth, his eyes locked on Holloway’s motion.

  Holloway touched Grayson’s arm and slid it down to the thing’s wrist. He stopped there and, out of habit, felt for a pulse. After a few seconds, he jerked his hand away and jumped back.

  “It’s still alive,” he said in a small voice. “In fact, it’s pulse is stronger than ever before.”

  “What the hell?” Doc Wilson said.

  All three men’s mouths gaped open just a little.

  Grayson opened his eyes, and Doc Wilson could have sworn he saw a hint of color in the thing’s cheeks. Grayson stared at the men, and then his eyes glanced down his body. That’s when he began to scream.

  Chapter 22

  The Huddle

  The small sprinkles that Jones had felt while standing by the helicopter turned into a steady downpour. It saturated everything, and he could see the fear on Garver’s face. He knew the old pilot hated flying in bad weather, but this time the fear was less for himself than for Bradbury. The kid just didn’t have the flight experience.

  Eli had called for a “war council” in the dean’s conference room in the engineering building at 4:00 AM. The room had rich mahogany wood on the walls and an expansive matching oval mahogany table in the center of the room. The table shined as if it had been polished every day. Plush executive chairs made of fine leather circled around it.

  Jones had been at many battle planning sessions. There was always an element in common with all of them, and that was that everyone knew that they would not get through the battle unscathed. With this one, they all knew there was a very real possibility that none of them would make it out alive. Standing and fighting was all they could do, and they would do it down to the last man or woman.

  Those present for the meeting were Eli, Karen Gray, Robert Lassiter, and a couple of others from the residents of the Sanctum. Jones, Clayton, Garver, and Berry represented the soldiers. Jo, Del, and Doc Wilson sat in for the people from the Manor, and Donovan and Mason were there for their people.

  Everyone around the table wore a somber expression except for Doc Wilson, who seemed to throb from pent up excitement.

  Eli started them off, “The walls have been fortified as best we can. Some of our more industrious people have placed heavy objects at the tops of the walls to drop on the zombies, that is if they run out of bullets. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He tried on a smile, but it looked thin and weak. “I’d like to wait for the rain to let up before we position our people on the walls. If we can’t wait, they know what they have to do and can be in position in less than twenty minutes.” He nodded at Jones, letting him know it was his turn to proceed.

  Jones cleared his throat and laid his hands flat on the table before he spoke. “I have our helicopter ready to spin up at a moment’s notice.”

  “If the rain quits,” Garver said.

  “Rain or shine, those birds are going up,” Jones said, fixing Garver with a hard stare for a long moment, then turned his attention back to the others. “I have positioned our heavy armored units at the ready in the spots we discussed.” He nodded to Eli. “The MAV is facing west and can lob some heavy artillery if and when needed. Your two Humvees and our four are our ready response units. If we have a breakthrough anywhere, they are to respond immediately.” He turned and looked at Jo.

  Jo said, “My people are ready just like Eli’s. Most are on the west and south wall.”

  Donovan jumped in and said, “My people have the north and south wall and are mixed in with folks from the Sanctum.”

  There was an awkward pause, and Karen Gray took that moment to rise from her seat. “Gentleman, and ladies,” she said as she looked to Jo, “this is a moment that will surely test the spirits of every man, woman, and child in the Sanctum. But when I look around this room, I see people that are more than up to the task. People who have been tested and won in the past, and I’m sure they will do it again. I have that much confidence in all of you.”

  Jones looked to the surface of the table, knowing that Karen Gray had never probably shot a gun or struck anyone with her fists. Probably the worst she had ever had to do was to fire a janitor or put a student on suspension, but he knew she must have felt that she needed to say something.

  “When we get through this,” she said and paused to take her own look down at the table. “I just want those that aren’t from the Sanctum to know that I may have been harsh earlier with my words.” She looked back up and continued. “I do think it’s best for everyone that you move on to claim your own space. That said, I don’t see a need to rush anything or put it on any immediate time table.”

  “That is kind of you,” Jo said, nodding her head slightly at Karen Gray. “We do appreciate it.”

  Donovan said, “As do we.”

  “Wait a damn second,” Eli said, a sense of alarm in his voice. “This isn’t what we talked about earlier. I thought once we made it through this, they were supposed to go?”

  Karen Gray slowly swiveled her body toward his and said, “Eli, things have changed. I don’t see any reason to make any immediate changes.” Her tone was that of a parent trying to explain something to a young child.

  “Well, I’m going on the record that we need to stick with the original decision,” Eli said.

  Karen Gray nodded her head slightly in his direction and said, “Your point is taken, but I have the final say.”

  An awkward silence filled the room, then Jones said, “We will probably leave soon after this is all over. I want to see if there is anything at our base we can recover.”

  Karen said, “I see, and I do understand, but please, there is no rush.”

  Jones said, “If there’s nothing else to be said, then I say we--”

  Doc Wilson slowly raised his hand as if asking for permission to speak.

  “Doc, you can just say what you need to say,” Jo said.

  It was as if he couldn’t contain himself. “We have made a major breakthrough in the lab.”

  “And?” Jo asked, leaning toward him.

  “Well, your two scientists,” he said as he looked Karen Gray’s way, “and I have tried many different strategies and while many didn’t get much traction, we finally went with the nuclear option, and--”

  “Doc, we’re sort of on the clock here,” Jo said. “Can you cut to it?”

  “Well, yes,” Doc Wilson said, his face flushing a little, “we tried a nerve agent and, well, it cured the half-dead zombie.”

  Karen Gray asked, “What do you mean cured?”

  Doc Wilson took a long pause and said, “We made him human again.”

  Chapter 23

  Lab Inspection

  Where Grayson had been a fearsome sight, he now looked almost pitiful as he slowly writhed on the cart even though he was clearly not conscious. Despite this, the spectators, which consisted of Jo, Del, Eli, and Sergeant Jones, kept a safe distance.

  “At first, we didn’t know what we had done,” Doc Wilson said.

  “I suspected,” Darke chimed in.

  “No, you didn’t,” Holloway said, wagging a finger at Darke. “You were as clueless as the rest of us.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Darke said, and it was easy to see he was getting his dander up.

  “Gentleman, really?” Doc Wilson said.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Eli said. “Get to it.”

  The nerve agents, this TRX-9,” Doc Wilson said, and he started to
continue, but Holloway cut him off.

  “I called it Trixie for short,” Holloway said, and he seemed close to chuckling.

  “Yes, Trixie,” Doc Wilson said as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he said. “I think my two colleagues have been awake for several days now. Anyway, we tried...Trixie on the subject and we saw some kind of transformation. He seemed to get more color and lividity in his flesh, but what really got to us was his screaming. At first, I didn’t know what it meant. I thought maybe he was just bellowing at us, but then I put two and two together and realized that his body had been dealt a lot of damage. If indeed, he had been transformed back into what he once was, then those wounds -- the shots to his knees and shoulder would be quite painful.”

  Jo remembered having to shoot the smart zombie in those places to incapacitate him. She knew if they hadn’t, he might just have taken them down.

  “I quickly sedated him and did some cursory bandaging of his wounds as he had started to bleed.”

  “But how the hell does this help us?” Jones said.

  Doc Wilson scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “Isn’t it obvious? If there are more like him, like he says, we can use it on them and transform them back and neutralize the threat.”

  “How do we do that?” Eli asked.

  “That’s something we’re working on,” Darke said. “It’s in the preliminary stages--”

  “We don’t have time for science experiments,” Eli said. “We need answers, and we need them now.”

  “How many canisters of this stuff do you have?” Jones asked, leaning forward on his crutches.

  “Eight,” Holloway said.

  “And is this nerve agent still deadly to humans?” Jones asked.

  Holloway looked uncomfortable for a moment but then said, “Yes.”

  “This is a colossal waste of time,” Eli said, tossing his hands in the air. “There are thousands of zombies on their way here, and, in among them, like a needle in a haystack are three or more of these half-dead things. The odds of finding them among the horde are nearly impossible. And then we have to spray them in the face with this stuff? And this stuff might just kill us?! Holy shit.”