Apocalypse Makers (Book 3): All For Show

by Matt Hart

  “Confirmed,” said the AI. The vessel dropped into the atmosphere, plasma flame streaming from the otherwise mostly invisible ship. It slowed as it neared the target mountain, giving off little more than an afterthought of reflected sunshine as it came to a hovering stop near the mountain entrance.

  “Recorders operating, Assurance Team ready. Sir?” asked Termloe, turning to the Captain. “I'm getting a live feed request. Should I authorize it?”

  “Of course you authorize it! We'd be out of job faster than two old fighting bridlings if we didn't! Just request a double bonus when you authorize it.”

  “Yes sir.” The Commander tapped the “Authorize” button and a blinking banner appeared on the main view.

  “Inform the troops that they're live, then take us down.” The Commander tapped his screen and the ship dropped quickly in front of the hidden bunker entrance. The back opened and six metal-clad Borelings emerged, fully helmeted but nearly invisible. Images distorted around their armor and weapons as the active camouflage displayed the background behind the suits, giving them the appearance of clear, moving drops of water. One stepped up to the entrance and blasted a hole in the large door, and the Borelings stomped through the opening.

  Chapter 17

  The Professor : Cambridge, Massachusetts

  A bright blue bird sat on a feeder, eating the seeds from a tray. It looked up quickly at the movement nearby, then resumed its meal. The Professor set the glass of orange juice back down on the small table next to his chair. He scooped up the last bite of scrambled eggs and put them on top of his toast. He savored the fresh food, knowing he would soon be switching to his stored supplies of freeze-dried eggs and nitrogen-stored whole wheat for homemade bread. He picked up his pen and notebook and reviewed what he had learned so far, summarizing his pages of detail.

  Hour 1 : EMP event, but odd. iPad, fridge still works. Bunkers are okay, but only certain things affected, especially comms.

  Hour 2 : Zombies? Impossible. Jose and Maria shot but still “alive”.

  Hour 3 : Barricaded the stairwell. Should have made internal stairways for the bunkers. “Zombies” have reorganized oxygenation systems. Organs hardened.

  Hour 4 : Maria brain trauma, appears deceased but showing some tissue regeneration.

  Hour 5 : Monitoring and recording HAM. Barricade holding, but strong press by creatures – no clue why they were agitated.

  Hour 9 : Fitful sleep. Need additional alarm systems and traps. Maria is fully deceased – tissues no longer regenerating.

  Hour 10 : Six transmissions, all C.Q.'s except one. Cutoff, two with identified force. One transmission described similar odd EMP effects and mentioned “invisible attack” before cutting off. Time from broadcast to failure is 4 minutes. Beginning transmission time +/- 7 minute frequency search cycle time.

  Hour 11 : Some interesting transmissions seemed to be bounced from Europe. Parts garbled, but clearly heard gunshots and explosions, along with “Look there, the sparks!” followed by gunfire, then “Yeah! We got him!”

  Hypothesis : Some agent caused the EMP and zombies. They target transmitters, but missed some in the initial attack. They attack transmission sources.

  Question : What is an invisible attack? Can electricity hurt them?

  Experiment : Transmit and record the outcome.

  Defenses : “Sparks” – Electrical?

  The Professor tapped his pen on the last entry. He had a hypothesis that fit the facts, but many questions remained. Why were transmission sources attacked? Why couldn't they just be targeted with another EMP? Maybe whatever shielded those transmitters was impervious to the EMP method used by the unknown agents.

  Zombies. Zombies. Zombies.

  That's what was completely out of whack with reality, unless there was some heretofore-unknown EMP effect that scrambled people's brains.

  And changed their respiratory systems.

  And hardened their organs.

  “No,” he thought, “that's just too ridiculous. Must have been a secondary attack.”

  “Well,” muttered the Professor, “the whole zombie thing is just beyond my ability to decipher.” He only had enough biology training to examine the creatures – no way he could even begin to synthesize any sort of cure. He tapped the last line of his notebook again. He needed to run the experiment.

  The Professor stood and pocketed his notebook, then gathered his dishes and took them back inside, startling the bird. It chirped angrily and flew away from the balcony, then circled and landed again on the feeder as the Professor closed the balcony doors. After washing the dishes, he slung his AK-47 over his shoulder, adding to the .45 he always carried now, and pocketed a few extra magazines. He unbolted the top floor door and exited into the hallway, then went down the stairs to his armory bunker.

  Inside, the professor grabbed a Taser and clipped it to his belt. If electricity had some kind of effect on whoever caused this, then he wanted to be prepared. He added extra Taser batteries to his cargo pants, which were already bulging with extra magazines, a flashlight, pocket knife, lighter, chlorine tabs and food bars, then pulled a drone from the shelf. The four-rotor device could remotely transmit video, but this one could also record as it flew a programmed pattern. He had three of them, as well as three others that must be manually controlled. He took the box out of the armory and walked up the stairs to his electronics room. Once inside, he unboxed the big drone and assembled it. He plugged in a USB cable and pulled up the program for the drone. He stopped and raised his head in alarm, remembering a line he'd written in his notebook.

  They target transmitters.

  “And I've been transmitting my local Wi-Fi network since shortly after the event,” he thought. He jumped up and hurried over to his Wi-Fi router and unplugged it, then hurried out the door, leaving it unlocked. He ran down the stairs to the lowest bunker and opened the door. The zombies in the stairwell saw him and began moaning and pulling at the barricade. The Professor unplugged the router just inside the door, then closed and locked it again. He ran to all the bunkers and unplugged every Wi-Fi router and relay in his apartments, his heart hammering in fear. Once he finished that, he went through every room, looking for any electronic device. He unplugged and removed batteries from everything – especially Bluetooth transceivers like his stereo, and even devices that no longer worked like his iPhone. That one he simply smashed with the butt of his AK.

  It was an hour later that he felt like he'd gotten to all possible transmitters, but he wondered if the damage was already done. He stood on his first floor, turning a slow circle, his mind unable to process the fear and helplessness he felt. The same fear and helplessness that had gripped him many years ago as he stood in a Cairo square, a map in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, when a peaceful protest had turned violent as government forces began firing on the mostly unarmed protesters.

  The Professor shook his head. “Immediate danger, immediate danger,” he muttered. He walked into his kitchen and poured a small glass of wine. A little early in the morning, but he needed some kind of ritual to calm his thoughts. He carried the glass to his balcony, his hand shaking and agitating the expensive liquid. The bird from earlier was gone now. He sat down and took a slow sip from the glass as he looked out over the city. He gazed for five minutes, just taking in the first morning of the new world. He took another sip and put the glass on the short table in front of him.

  “I can't stay here forever,” he thought. If his home here was compromised, then he needed to make his way to his larger bunker up north. “That means clearing the stairwell at least, unless I want to try rappelling down the side of the building.”

  Zombie food on a string, no thanks.

  “Step one then, clear out the stairwell.” He would place weapons at locations up the stairwell and create additional barriers that would be easy for him to traverse, but might slow down the press of zombies. He removed rope from his armory and tied a crisscross pattern across the stairwell – thre
e of them would hopefully give him enough time to shoot all of the approaching creatures.

  “And if it doesn't...” he said aloud. The Professor took a bucket of climbing rope from his armory, hefting the 30 plus pounds on his shoulders and carrying it to his bedroom. He tied it off and set it next to the window. He removed a bug-out-bag, or BOB, from his closet and set it on the bed. It had food, water purifiers, rope, knives, emergency tent and more – supplies to survive if he had to make a quick exit. He had several BOBs around the house and bunkers, all packed and ready for a quick exit. He added Tasers to all of them.

  He took a strong fishing net from the armory and hammered it in place in front of his bedroom door, with two ends loose and ready to hook up. If he had to, he could run into the bedroom, close and lock the door, then hook the net. That should give him enough time to get out the window. He might have to watch out for zombies diving after him, but he could at least get to the ground and try to escape.

  “Stupid stupid stupid,” he said under his breath. “Wi-Fi and Bluetooth transmitters, dammit.”

  Both are short range, maybe I’m okay.

  He took a deep breath and drank a half-liter of water, then walked down the stairs, passing four shotguns and boxes of ammo on the way down. He stood facing the horde of creatures on the stairwell as they moaned and shook the barricade. He slung his AK and picked up the AR-15 that sat on the ground in front of him. It had an enormous round magazine underneath – 90 rounds that was illegal in pre-apocalyptic Massachusetts, but he'd had it for his store since police officers would buy them on occasion.

  He took another deep breath and sighted on the first zombie. He fired and the bullet struck his barricade before hitting the creature in the shoulder. It howled and pulled at the chair in front of it, ripping off a leg and part of the seat. The damage from the bullet made it easy for the zombie to tear up the chair. The other creatures began moaning louder and pulling at the furniture and debris the blocked the stairwell, shaking the steel and concrete steps.

  The Professor sighted on the creature again and began squeezing the trigger in rapid succession.

  Chapter 18

  Interlude : Boreling Empire : Plannel 6

  Grodge the Merciful clicked his thumbs nervously. He watched a private feed from the bunker he'd rigged. The human had run around like a bridling with its head cut off all morning, smashing electronics and unplugging devices. “What an idiot,” thought Grodge. The area was off the low altitude patrols, and the Entertainment Assurance ships in orbit couldn't detect the low power transmissions coming from his bunker. The drone cameras had been altered to prevent alerts if they detected transmissions, courtesy of one Grodge the Merciful. “Grodge the Destructor,” said Grodge with a flair of his arms. The brightly-colored jumpsuit made him look like a fat flying bridling.

  “Grodge, why are you flapping about?” came a voice from monitor. The view of the human bunker was overlaid with the face of his supervisor, Pactain the Virulent. Grodge dismissed the bunker view that showed the human shooting into the stairwell full of bio-creatures and Pactain's head expanded to fill the monitor.

  “Just stretching my arms, sir, preparing for hours and hours of exciting work!”

  “Hmmm, all right then,” said Pactain. “Good job.”

  “And good riddance when I’m finally promoted,” muttered Grodge. Pactain leaned into the camera.

  “What was that Grodge?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.

  “I was just saying this is a good feed for a commercial promotion, sir,” replied Grodge, pointing to the third screen in the main view. It showed bio-creatures swarming into a park of some kind, where large animals inside of fences and cages were being torn apart.

  Pactain turned his head. “Oh yes, I see.” They both watched the feed for a moment. It showed an elephant surrounded by dozens of zombies. The majestic creature bellowed and stomped, crushing several of them as they tore chunks of hide from its ears and belly. “Very entertaining, I can see why it's on a main channel.”

  Pactain turned back to look at Grodge. “But dammit Grodge these bio-creatures are out of control! You are supposed to be getting me more human-on-human violence! I want a report of your actions and progress on my screen in one hour!”

  The view disappeared as Pactain cut the channel off. Grodge slammed a fist onto his desk, startling the doglard lying beneath it. The animal bumped Grodge's leg and he kicked at it in frustration. “Get out of here!” yelled Grodge, kicking it again. The doglard yelped and scrambled away from Grodge, who smiled in amusement. “Stupid creature,” he said.

  Standing, Grodge walked away from his desk and stood in front of his printer. “Give me a box of Stim Sticks Ultra, a pack of Wake-Up Drinks, and a bar of Jump-Up.” The device whirred and clicked; the products dropped into the bin after a few seconds. Grodge popped a stim stick under his nose and breathed it in, then quickly sucked it dry. He bit off a chunk of Wake-Up and gulped it down quickly, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste of the stimulant. Finally, he unwrapped the bar and tossed the wrapper into the print recycler, then bit off a piece and chewed it. A small ball of it formed and he stuck that in his cheek and sucked at it. His senses kicked into overdrive and he trembled at the overdose of stimulants. He paced in front of his desk as he thought out loud.

  “Stupid techno bureaucrats. 'No nanomachines that attack organically,' they say. 'Too dangerous,' they say. As if the regular solderbots aren't dangerous enough! We could make 'em in the target system, just like the solderbots. Why not? Then I could easily take care of the 'zombie' problem. Melt them into goo in an instant!”

  Grodge pictured the face of Pactain melting into goo. “Ha! Now that would be good entertainment!” He sat down at his desk, but little came to mind to reduce the bio-creature population. Already it was over one billion, and fully one third of the population of the planet was dead or zombified. “Zombified,” exclaimed Grodge. “I just invented a word!”

  He sat and thought for a few minutes, his thumbs snapping together. He spun around in circles in his chair with nervous energy. “I could put a bounty on bio-creatures. Maybe drone operators would reduce the numbers. They'd be easy to kill.” Putting thoughts to action, Grodge quickly created a new Pay to Play category and added a big bonus for bio-creature kills by drones. He made the threshold for the bonus very high, ensuring that only a few operators were likely to get that many kills. He watched the big screen as an alert bug popped up, letting viewers know about the new offering. He also put a few ads out on the boards that were known hangouts of Team Zeke and other such groups.

  The next thing he did was look for prisons. He found quite a few and tasked some nanomachines to release the prisoners that hadn't been turned into bio-creatures. He shunted the task to any of the dozens of junior assistant producers who were currently working – controlling the actions of nanomachines was a pain. There were only a few hundred on the whole planet, and they tended to break down quickly after activation. He also requested specific action from an Entertainment Assurance group. Just one ship could dispatch thousands of the creatures quickly, almost invisibly and with little to tie the kills to an “alien invasion”.

  Grodge sat and typed as he thought of ways to cull the zombie mobs.

  —————

  Two miles from Mark and Jen, door locks clicked in the maximum security prison. Men in orange jumpsuits tentatively pushed open doors and looked out, nodding to other inmates. Makeshift weapons were retrieved from hiding places. The few remaining guards stood no chance, their grisly deaths broadcast across the galaxy to the enjoyment of early morning viewers and talk shows. The numerous gangs formed up and clashed while loners tried to run and escape the violence. Mark and Jen hiked on, unaware of the violence unleashed nearby.

  Chapter 19

  Interlude : Boreling Empire : Plannel 6

  From: Desk of the Entertainment Assurance Director

  To: Imperial Entertainment Overwatch

  Re: Cycle 1 Action Report


  EntAssure Action Report

  187 Bunkers cleared

  117 Transmission sources destroyed, including 32 long-range systems

  0 Vessels lost to featured planet inhabitants

  2 Injuries – concussive damage from high explosives, armor damaged but functional

  1 Death – accidental electrical discharge caused an armor malfunction, followed by powerful small arms fire

  Summary: Unusually high number of hardened facilities, including sophisticated civilian bunkers scattered across the entire planet, concentrated in the highest technology nation. Estimate less than 10% eliminated. Actively scanning for remaining facilities. An additional 500 search drones are being printed and will be active within 7 cycles. Estimate 20% of remaining facilities may contain long-range transmission equipment. 25 transmissions cutoff in progress during clean up. Estimate over 200,000 natives killed during operations.

  —————

  From: Imperial Entertainment Overwatch

  To: Director, Entertainment Assurance

  Re: Cycle 1 Action Report

  Excellent progress! The viewership for Assurance is up 800% thanks to the unexpected windfall of footage from your actions. There was an especially large jump when Assurance troops came under heavy fire from the natives, and the largest one-hour increase in viewership ever when the trooper was killed during the assault on the planetary leader. We need more of that kind of action!

  Accordingly, you are hereby instructed to reduce camouflage effectiveness by 50% and begin a recruiting campaign to replace any losses.

  Keep up the great work!

  —————

  From: Desk of the Entertainment Assurance Director

  To: Imperial Entertainment Overwatch

  Re: Cycle 1 Action Report