Exit Zero (Book 2): Nuke Jersey

by Neil A. Cohen

  “Now...this is where the complications set in, as atmospheric air resistance plus the initial launch acceleration time could add a few seconds to the total time...the actual time of flight may be a few seconds shorter or longer.”

  Spencer’s eyes rolled around in his head. “How fucking long? Just tell us, you crazy bitch!”

  “Six minutes,” came the despondent response.

  “Six fucking minutes?” Patrick asked.

  “Well, closer to four now,” Dr. Reynolds said.

  “Go! Get him in the bunker now,” shouted the security contractor.

  “We need to get him on a plane or a copter, get him out of the state,” Spencer responded.

  “No time,” the other contractor said.

  “We need to alert the people. We need to warn people,” Patrick pleaded.

  “No time, they wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway. Other than kiss their asses goodbye.”

  Upstairs, word had spread throughout the Congress Hotel. Workers, contractors, security guards, and aides fled the building through the doors and even windows. They raced to get somewhere, anywhere, else.

  Protesters and the media who had been camped outside the hotel since Patrick’s inauguration saw the mass exodus, and although they did not know why the new president’s staff was fleeing the building, they decided it was not wise to stick around.

  They too fled.

  On the broadcast, the cow head of GRASS continued his rant: “As for the rest of the country, what you are seeing on your screens right now is heading your way. “

  GRASS set phase two in motion.

  Truth told, they did not have the ability to launch any missiles, but using Tindall’s laptop, they were able to hack into the master control switch of all Kraken systems. With a few keystrokes, the sound machines that had kept the Skells calm and contained went silent.

  The cow continued: “We have shut down the sound systems that have been keeping the infected compliant, and now we will shut down the systems that have kept you compliant. The infected are now free to leave the confines of the state of New Jersey. All of America shall soon be united, with man and Skell living, and dying, side by side.

  “There are no politicians to turn to anymore, America, so take advantage of this crisis, this opportunity, this chance for a new way of doing things.

  “Your future will either be in your own hands, or in their stomachs.

  “We are the Blades of GRASS, and we are sprouting everywhere.”

  The voiceover message from GRASS stopped.

  The video feeds now showed the Skells free, wild, and attacking workers at the camp. The view switched between camera shots to display various scenes of horror. Kraken sound systems were systematically turned off. Skells ran rampant. They slaughtered their way out of the containment camps.

  More camera feeds appeared on the screen. PCRC Security Teams fled and got devoured while firing their weapons at the hordes of bloody, skeletal creatures in the streets.

  GRASS’s plan was diabolically perfect. It released the infected and then drove the uninfected out of their homes in a mad dash for the border, only to be greeted by hungry Skells.

  The cameras changed again to display video from bridges and tunnels leading out of New Jersey. Panicked citizens tried to escape nuclear annihilation, but they ended up in the arms and mouths of freed Skells. Both infected and uninfected alike overran the National Guard and police officers posted in neighboring states.

  It was an orgy of panic, fear, and brutality.

  CHAPTER 43

  The chaos on the streets provided cover for Big V, now a mere wisp of himself, to slip free from his hideout and make his way to the Sullivan beach house. He found it empty, as expected. He found the safe behind the picture in the pool room, also empty, which meant Ragu had followed his orders. He had hoped that Ragu would have left some of the cash behind for him, as he requested, should he survive, but no such luck. Ragu learned well: Never leave cash on the table.

  V rummaged through the bar fridge, but found nothing that looked appealing. In fact, since he survived the Skell virus, he, a man with enormous appetites, had not felt the urge to eat at all. While he did not crave human flesh like the other infected. He did not crave his pre-virus favorites of gabagool, ossobuco, or any type of bread or cheese ever created. He even walked past a cannoli store without an issue.

  Watching him secretly from the walk-in closet was Gary Ragu.

  He hadn’t seen his former boss since before the outbreak, and while V had lost a preposterous amount of weight, his mannerisms were the same.

  Ragu thought back to the first time he had seen Big V. Ragu had been a street thug, unaffiliated with any of the families, his only loyalty was to heroin, and his only friend was a violent junkie name Ramirez. The two of them had jumped three couples who were leaving a fancy restaurant. Ramirez beat two of the guys up pretty badly, even though they put up no real resistance. He and Ramirez then had spent the next two hours looking all over for heroin, but could only score Oxycodone. They crushed it up and were about to partake when the door to their pathetic drug den was kicked in.

  What they thought were cops rushed them and they were dragged out.

  When they were thrown in the trunk of a Lexus, they realized their captors were not cops.

  They were taken to a warehouse where several large men gathered. One of the women they had jumped earlier was also there. Turned out she was the sister of one of V’s top guys.

  After she confirmed who they were, she was escorted out, obviously not to witness the bloodshed that was going to follow.

  Ragu looked over at Ramirez. The guy shook like a leaf. He did not know if it was fear or withdrawal.

  “You guys are actually here on a good night,” V stated as he walked out of the darkness. “I am looking for some new guys, some tough guys. And I am going to allow you to wow me.”

  Ramirez spoke first. “You...you’re not going to kill us?”

  Fucking idiot! Gary thought.

  “Should I?” V responded. “How about this. I am going to give you a choice. You work for me. You bring me 100% of what you bring in, and I will give you back what percentage I feel you deserve. I will do this until I feel your debt to me is paid. How does that sound?”

  “So we join you or you kill us?” Ramirez sputtered.

  “When life’s major decisions come your way,” V said, taking a slow, philosophical tone, “You always have three choices to make. Yes... No... Or wait.”

  They all stood in silence for a good sixty seconds.

  V quickly drew a gun from his belt and pointed it directly at Ramirez’s face.

  “Wait!” Ramirez yelled, holding up his hands.

  V shot him in the head and his body slumped to the ground.

  V turned to Ragu. “He chose ‘wait.’ That was the wrong answer. Of course, ‘no’ would have been wrong too.”

  “Yes!” Ragu said, trying not to show any fear. “Yes.”

  V realized he was not alone.

  “You look good,” Ragu said. “I don’t think you were this thin in high school.”

  Big V stood up and slowly turned around, making no sudden movements. He figured Ragu was not here to reminisce. He faced Ragu, who was pointing a 9mm at him. “I wasn’t. Funny thing happened to me on my way to the shore.”

  “How long?” Ragu asked, referring to his boss being an informant.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Guess not. Want to tell me why?” Ragu still had some sentiment for his old mentor and friend.

  “I know this won’t really change things, but it was not about you guys,” V explained. “The feds didn’t give a shit about dealing prescription meds and running games from the back of the strip club. They were after Maxwell Gold and his company. I got pinched. I made a deal. Not trying to justify my actions, but it is what it is.”

  “I guess it is what it is.” Ragu repeated.

  “You talk to Schaffer?” V asked, referring to
his FBI handler. V had advised Ragu to make a deal with the fed and offer up all of V’s recordings as barter to get out of Jersey alive.

  “I did. I turned down his offer and went another route,” said Ragu.

  “Let me guess, you get your membership card back, but you have to kill me, right?”

  “Like you said, it is what it is.”

  “They want proof?” V asked.

  Ragu nodded the affirmative.

  “They say anything they wanted in specific?” V asked.

  Ragu shook his head.

  Big V reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with two severed fingers. He tossed the bag to Ragu.

  “The wife bit them off me. She turned into one of those things. I kept them on ice at this custard place over on the boardwalk, so they ain’t that shriveled. They still look almost fresh. I know I’m asking a lot, but that is your proof. You don’t need to do this. I just want to see my daughter.”

  Ragu shook the bag of fingers. “If you turn up, they’ll know I lied, and I’ll be dead.”

  V nodded. “True, but I won’t be turning up. I’ll be vapor. I know you don’t trust me anymore, but I promise you, I won’t be seen again.”

  The two men stood there in silence while Ragu contemplated. He took a deep breath, turned around and as he was leaving the basement, he directed his first command as the new boss of the New Jersey family towards Big V: “Vaper.”

  CHAPTER 44

  “Wait, wait!” Dr. Reynolds yelled out, a cell phone pressed to her ear. “It’s a hoax. I’m on the phone with Warren airbase right now. They say there has been no hack and no missiles are being launched!”

  “What the hell is going on?” Patrick demanded.

  “We don’t know, sir,” Spencer said. “But right now, the safest place for us, I mean, for you, is in the freezer, err...presidential bunker.”

  “He’s correct.” Dr. Reynolds chimed in. “The technical team has been working on this space as a safe room in case of emergency for the past two days. We have communications, power, food, everything we need to be safe until we figure out what is happening. We need to secure the president!”

  At that, Patrick was hustled into the freezer, with Spencer and Reynolds rushing in as if boarding the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

  Maxwell turned to one of the security contractors “You, come with me!”

  “You’re not staying?” Patrick asked.

  “No, I am an old man. As long as you’re secured, I am fine.”

  Patrick stepped forward as if to follow.

  Maxwell turned to Spencer and barked: “You! You seal this door now, and you keep the president and Dr. Reynolds inside and safe until you hear from me or you are sure the situation is one hundred percent safe. Do you understand your orders?”

  Spencer stood as straight and tall as his weak spine would allow. “Yes, sir!” He gave his freezer mates a nervous look, then pulled the large door closed and sealed it from inside.

  Outside the bunker, unaware that it was a hoax, the word was still spreading that an inbound nuclear missile was heading towards the Jersey Shore. Just like any other Sunday night, people were fleeing the area in all directions, trying to get as far north as possible, leaving the Congress Hotel and Executive Office abandoned except for a few dozen Skells that were now free and roaming the halls.

  Inside the freezer/bunker, it was silent as a grave. The sound of the three breathing was the only noise. Patrick walked over to a small wooden desk and chair in the corner and put his head in his hands. Spencer surveyed the supplies and electronic equipment that had been installed. Dr. Reynolds stood stoic.

  “Sir, may I talk to you about something?’ she said to Patrick.

  He raised his head.

  Spencer turned around nervously.

  Patrick said, “Of course.”

  “I think the president has had enough for the day and needs some quiet contemplation time,” Spencer said to the doctor.

  Dr. Reynolds ignored Spencer and addressed Patrick. “Sir, you need to know exactly what—”

  “That is enough, Reynolds!” Spencer snapped.

  “No, it’s not enough, he needs to know,” She countered.

  “I need to know what?” Patrick asked.

  “Nothing, you need to know nothing!” Spencer yelled. He realized he was shouting at the president and took a conciliatory tone. “I am sorry, sir, it’s just that there is a time and a place, and now and here are not that time and place.”

  “When?” Reynolds asked. “I am...he needs to know! He’s the president!”

  “I said enough!” Spencer yelled, walking over and getting in Reynolds’s face. He bent over so that his mug was an inch from hers. “Now is not the time, here is not the place and he is not in charge!” Spencer yelled at her while pointing at Patrick. “Do you get that, you—”

  Dr. Reynolds swung up her right hand, palm out, and slammed Spencer in the nose. His nostrils exploded and blood erupted through his fingers as he cradled his broken schnozz.

  “That’s for calling me a dumb bitch!” She shouted at the whimpering man. She turned to a stunned, silent Patrick, adjusted her glasses, and took the chair next to him.

  She began telling Patrick a horrific tale in which he was the unwitting star.

  CHAPTER 45

  Maxwell walked back to his office. A security contractor followed closely behind, keeping an eye out for any roaming Skells or crazed protesters who would use this opportunity to try and storm the place. The guard spotted neither. The entire hotel had been abandoned.

  Maxwell arrived at his office door and turned to the contractor. “I need to get things straightened out. I need to restore calm. I need you to guard this door and not let anyone bother me. No one enters this office, not even you, is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. He assumed a guard position just right of the door.

  Maxwell entered and closed the door behind him. He looked down at the ground and took a long, exasperated breath. “Let’s keep that arrogant little prick in the cooler for a while.” He muttered referring to Patrick, his proxy president.

  “Talking to yourself...that is the first sign of madness,” said a voice behind him.

  Maxwell spun around. Someone was in the chair facing his desk. He could not see who, but the arrogant bastard had his feet up on the coffee table.

  “Zombie apocalypse not going as planned? Shame that everything you give birth to turns out to be such a disappointment.”

  “Ivan?” Maxwell asked as he approached his desk and saw his son sitting in the chair. It had been so long since he had seen him in person that it took him a moment to recognize his own kin. Maxwell then noticed Marifi standing in the corner of the room. He eyed her warily.

  Ivan said, “Don’t worry, dad, she’s not going to kill either of us. At least not today.”

  “What do you want?” Maxwell asked, sitting down at his desk.

  “What does any kid want? I’m here to collect my allowance.” Ivan’s voice dripped with venom and snark.

  “What do you want, Ivan?” Maxwell was getting irritated.

  Ivan looked over at Marifi. “Notice how I called him dad and he called me Ivan. Not ‘son.’ These petty micro-aggressions. Yes, that was what my shrink called it. Micro-aggressions. You know, I don’t think I received enough affection as a child. What do you think, my dear?”

  She shrugged. She acted unconcerned, but she knew Ivan had been off his meds since they fled the bunker. He had been taking prescribed antidepressants, anti-OCD, and sleeping pills, but the meds were all blown up along with their home almost a week ago. He was getting twitchy.

  Ivan bent over and reached into his backpack on the floor. Maxwell tensed up and began reaching for his right desk drawer, where he kept his gun.

  Ivan raised back up and tossed a hardcover notebook onto the desk. “Dr. Coleman’s journal. I found it in your old building. By the way, this one is much nicer. Not as burnt up.”

&n
bsp; “I am going to ask you one last time. What do you want?” Maxwell said, raising his voice on the word “want” in the hopes that the security guard might come in to check on him. Unfortunately, his guards follow orders very well.

  Ivan leaned forward in his chair. “I have spent the last several years digging holes in the ground. Some of which I even lived in. Some of which were for other people to live in. Some of which had different purposes. So, you ask me, what do I want, you ask? Hmm. Where to begin?”

  CHAPTER 46

  TransWays Depot, nicknamed The Hive, was the largest trucking warehouse in southern Jersey. Located just off the turnpike, it boasted fifty truck loading bays on one side and an additional fifty on the other. The single story facility could handle the delivery, storage, turnaround, and release of hundreds of tons of freight. It was the perfect facility for the largest cleanup operation undertaken in New Jersey since Hurricane Sandy.

  The facility had needed some configuration, but not much. Large highway barrier walls—usually installed to keep sound inside the roadways—were set up around the facility to keep prying eyes out.

  The operation was straightforward. As long as the infected continued to hear the hum, they were a dangerous, but docile cargo. PCRC Containment Teams would travel around the state, corralling the infected into the trucks, which brought them to The Hive, where they were held until depopulation foaming could occur.

  While the foaming of smaller groups was being conducted at the Q Camps, the bulk of the work was coming to The Hive now that the facility was operational. Trucks were backed into the bay at the front of the building, and the hazardous cargo was coaxed to shamble out into the main holding facility of the warehouse.