by Suzanne Robb
A PERMUTED PRESS book
Published at Smashwords
ISBN (Trade Paperback): 978-1-61868-2-741
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-2-758
Z-Topia copyright © 2014
by Suzanne Robb
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Dean Samed, Conzpiracy Digital Art
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
Table of Contents
Onset
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About the Author
Onset—
“Jonas, we got something coming in fast with a signal, it’s too weak to tell but it could be an SOS.” Harold panicked while he pressed buttons and moved the display to the front of the room.
Jonas looked up from the tablet he was studying and examined the object coming toward them.
“Let’s go. It’s probably an escape pod. There was something on the feed about an underwater explosion not too far from here.” Jonan grabbed his gear and ran out of the room.
Harold got out of his chair as fast as his smog- and-tar encrusted lungs would allow. By the time he reached the door, he was out of breath, arriving at the bottom of the staircase he was wheezing and bright red. Jonas shook his head while he made his way back to the distressed man.
“Harry, why don’t you let me check this out? It’s probably just a buoy or something.”
“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “It’s too big.”
“Okay, you stay here and watch the screen, call security, whatever you need. I’ll go see if I can find anything.”
Jonas made his way to the shoreline. He could barely make out the water, or what passed for it these days, from the beach. The lack of moonlight, due to pollution according to his grandparents, was the norm. At one time beaches were white, or some sort of beige color, and the ocean was a clear blue and safe to swim in.
But now it was black, stained with oil, trash, and other chemicals pharmaceutical and industrial companies dumped into the water decades ago. The top layer maintained a sludgy dark brown color, an occasion a ball of oil would bubble up to the top. The odor burned his nostrils, a mixture of human waste and other things he’d rather not think about. All this after one too many drilling accidents gone wrong and no money left to PR the problem away. Jonas shook his head at the thought of what people did to the planet years ago with little to no thought of the future. He among the others doomed to live here, reaped the benefits of their stupidity.
Jonas took out a flashlight and walked to the coordinates blinking on the tablet’s link with the radar screen in the main office. For five years he’d raced out to see what these blips were. Most of the time they were pieces of debris someone dumped off a ship at sea, hoping it would sink. Other times he’d come across hideous sea creatures scarred and wailing in pain. Jonas shivered at the thought and hoped tonight he discovered nothing more than a washed up car or pile of old rubber tires.
On rare occasions they stumbled across human bodies tangled together with seaweed. Their skin a revolting green color, bodies bloated and distended. Jonas threw up for an hour the first time he witnessed one pop and several tiny sea creatures flopped out.
The corpses were once government workers, a few tattoos still visible on their necks. They tried to escape the tyranny of working on a trawler scraping the ocean of what little food was left for a chance at a better life. Little did they know how toxic the water was, or how much radiation made its way through the thick layer of smog. Jonas laughed about it now. The Earth was a hell hole and thoughts of a “better life” were for suckers and those who kept themselves in a perpetual drug haze.
His light caught on something and he headed for it, a pile of threadbare tires, not what he was looking for. He had another fifty feet to go until he reached his destination. He stepped over a pile of rusted needles, and a nest of rodents eating a homeless man, or woman.
Harry had told him this place was once a tourist Mecca. People paid out the ass to come here and relax, and do a little star gazing. Looking around, he didn’t see the draw, Cannes was a rat hole.
Noise from up ahead caused him to pick up the pace. Perhaps this time would be different. Maybe the object would be something new and interesting. He could go home and tell his girlfriend Kellie about it—she was always complaining his job was so boring she wanted to quit it for him. He didn’t disagree, but it wasn’t like jobs were in abundance anymore. Employment once regarded as lowly was now vied for. People with doctorates fought for positions as maids, garbage pickers, and lab monkeys for untested vaccines and other medications.
Jonas had degrees in engineering, mathematics, and chemistry, and worked at an ocean monitoring station, on permanent night shift. The only time he put his education to use was when he had to figure out a way for the rickety chairs to hold Harry’s large frame.
Jonas shone his light and saw a figure approaching him, it moved slowly and awkwardly. He tapped the communication implant in his temple that connected him directly to Harry at the office.
“Hey, I got someone down here. I’m going to try to bring him up, looks like he needs help. Have medical personnel ready.”
“Sure, I’ll get the kit and see if the hospital is open.”
Right, cutbacks, Jonas thought while he moved forward.
When the figure stood twenty feet in front of him, Jonas caught wind of an odor he knew all too well: death. He slowed down and called out to the stranger lumbering toward him. “You okay? Need a hand?”
No answer, only continued movement toward Jonas.
“Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”
A guttural noise came Jonas’s way along with the stench of decay. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his stomach tightened in fear. Jonas shone his light to get a better look at the guy. The position of the man’s neck seemed a bit off, like he was too weak to hold his head up. Jonas thought the guy must be injured in a way that prevented him from speaking, or perhaps he didn’t know English.
“Can you understand me?”
The man continued to approach and when he stood within five feet Jonas raised the flashlight once more and the face of death grinned back at him. Jonas froze as he took in the appearance of the thing. Not a person, a thing with unnatural green skin covering its face and all visible parts of the body. The right arm hung at an odd angle, the radius sticking out. Green liquid oozed out of the side of its neck.
The face was in a league all its own. The eyes were void of all color except white, sunken in and unblinking. Jonas didn’t see eyelids, or lips, or ears for that matter. The left cheekbone drooped in, the bone beneath rotted out. Jonas knew he should call it in, hit the implant and warn H
arry, but fear froze him in place.
When it opened its mouth, yellowed teeth and rotten green gums were revealed, as another wave of stench hit Jonas. He tried to back up to get away, but slipped on the beach sludge. A rusty needle pierced his palm and he cried out in pain. He dropped the flashlight and got a view of the rest of the thing’s body. Red stains and bits of bone and flesh were stuck all over the place, glued in place by a dark colored substance.
Jonas tried to calm himself, regain control, but the thing jumped on him, going straight for Jonas’s throat. He tried to fight it off, using his arm to block the attack, but it was deceptively strong given its repulsive and decayed appearance. Jonas felt teeth sink into his arm and tear the flesh. Harry needed to be warned. He reached for the implant with his other hand, but it was too late.
The thing latched onto his neck and tore at it. Jonas watched as the monster pulled away. A stringy piece of his flesh in his maw. Jonas tried to raise a hand to the wound, but the thing was on him again in a flash. Unable to move, fight back, or scream, all Jonas could do was lay there and pray death was quick.
Chapter One—
Ally Lane stared at the sky, lips chapped and bloody, her skin covered in blisters and scabs. Deep breaths still hurt her ribs, and the gash on her shoulder was infected. She didn’t have to be a doctor to know the angry red tint around the wound along with pus oozing out was a bad sign. None of it mattered though.
She lost track of time. Day and night rolled into a blurry blob of lost moments. The ozone above her reduced to Swiss cheese ages ago would have burned her to a crisp within days if not for the large stagnant clouds of pollution hanging in the sky. Even so, she knew her condition was bad at best.
She thought about Marcus, her fiancé for all of a couple of hours, before he died, or more appropriately—was murdered. The tears stopped long ago, the stubborn part of her wanted to blame dehydration, but the truth was she went numb. Ally let an old friend engulf her with open arms—anger.
The first couple of weeks she’d been able to concentrate, remember, and grieve. She recorded her memories of what happened and the information she’d uncovered. Ally found a chip during her scuffle with Maxine Williams, spy for the Koreans. After a week of rigging her tech she was able to crack the encryption on the code and read the files inside. What she found made her sick. She stared at the water around her and wondered what other horrors it held.
Now her mind was a mess of thoughts, most of them involving revenge. She promised to take down the two opposing firms that caused the demise of Marcus Hauser, her old boss Brian Kingston, her friends, and her home the Betty Loo.
She spent feverish days planning, at night when the heat eased a bit she slept in bursts. Nightmares woke her every few moments the first week or two. Screams woke her, echoing over the wide expanse of the ocean and swallowed by the abyss below her. The darkness stretched out before her should have scared her, but she welcomed it.
Ally wanted it to envelope her, put her out of this delusional nightmare called life. She knew it would be soon, she’d run out of food over a week ago, and hadn’t had water for days. She laughed a little, insane sounding giggles at the fact she would die from dehydration while floating in the middle of the ocean. Not that the water was safe, in fact it would hurry her death along.
She closed her eyes and remembered every happy moment she and Marcus shared, they always morphed into images of the undead attacking them, her friends turned into mindless, zombie like creatures. Then Marcus is bit and she is forced to leave kill him. He begs her not to, pledges his love, and gives her a ring. She shakes her head and pulls the trigger, putting a bullet between his eyes.
Of course it didn’t happen that way, it would have been more humane. Instead, Marcus stayed behind and finished the mission so she could escape and warn the world, and hope to God what they’d discovered down in the depths of hell hadn’t made its way to the surface.
If she could make it a bit longer, someone would rescue her and she could warn the world. Then she would let the pain swallow her up.
“Hey, you alive down there?”
Ally heard voices and knew it was another delusion. She used her last bit of strength to raise her middle finger a quarter inch in the air. Moments later she heard a splash and smiled. One of the zombies came up to get her, finally freedom would be hers.
“We got ya.”
Ally felt strong arms pick her up. She tried to speak, do something, but couldn’t.
“We better hurry, she’s in pretty bad shape. How long do you think she’s been out here?”
“No idea, but from the looks of it, I’d say at least a month.”
“Think she tried to escape service?”
“I don’t know, wouldn’t blame her if she did though. We’ll run an identification check when we get her on board the ship.”
Ally wanted to scream, no identification check. They would find her, the militiamen who’d trained her would have a solid lead after her years of eluding them. Not to mention the firms who thought she currently resided at the bottom of the ocean. If they discovered she was alive, they’d want the information she had. Then she remembered they were in on the plan that resulted in everything she cared about being blown up and dying. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go back on the grid, let them come to her.
* * *
Dr. James Winston activated the glove he wore and manipulated the robotic counterpart in the room next to him. On a large image screen he monitored his progress. The automated arm pulled open the drawer and picked up a glass vial. The temperature reached the exact reading from where the water samples had been brought up from the ocean.
James closed the drawer with his free hand with the touch of a button. Attention back to the experiment at hand. Several others stood in the room with him, other scientists and a few guards.
Taking a deep breath he calmed his nerves and brought the arm to the injector and with great care inserted the vial. The liquid inside was a neon purple, made up of various pathogens, anti-bacterials, and a synthesized serum based on the samples provided by his boss.
“Dr. Lynstrom, it’s time,” James said.
A rail-thin man with greasy hair and sunken eyes keyed in a series of numbers on a display pad. A moment later a dome lifted and a zombie in the early stages of infection raised its arm. The moans it made were forlorn sounding, but they’d learned the hard way how devious these creatures were.
One last step, then they would wait. The injector moved to the raised arm and the fluid disappeared into dark veins. The zombie growled, this time in anger. Seconds later it broke free of the restraints holding it and flung the metal brace, forcing its arm to rise.
Rumbles of rage ripped from its chest as it pounded on the walls and one way mirror. The safety glass was the only thing protecting them, the soldiers fled in fear the second it got to its feet.
James removed the device on his right hand and lifted a latch revealing a red button. He pressed it and a thick smoke wafted out of the vents in the room with the zombie. The decayed hands still beat on the window, and every now and then its eyes were visible when the mist cleared.
“Dr. Winston, the gas isn’t having an effect. In fact it seems we… made it stronger.”
James keyed in the emergency override code and watched as several small areas on the lab wall opened up and then muzzle flash blinded them. After a full thirty seconds of deafening gunfire the zombie still stood.
His worst nightmare had come true. When he’d taken this assignment he thought he would help save the world, but a voice in the back of his head reminded him the firms always put their own needs first.
When they told him what they wanted, he thought they were kidding. No one in their right mind would want to make these things stronger. No one would try to see if they could be trained for military purposes. No one would keep them alive and experiment with the liquid inside of them. He was wrong.
Unit 784 went berserk and escaped, powered up on wha
tever they’d tossed into the serum. Various things meant to improve its mental prowess as well as slow down the rate of decay within the body. As they were now, they would be useless soldiers. The organism inside of them ate the victim from the inside out. When nothing was left of the brain, only a walking corpse remained, weak and decrepit. The process took at least a month, and during those thirty days the damn things displayed thought, were fast, strong, and grew in number.
Henry Williams, his boss, shut down the project, calling it a failure. James was stripped of his rank and sent to work on a cure in the Firm’s main facility. That was three months ago.
Unit 784 has yet to be recovered.
* * *
Henry Williams sat in his office drinking a cup of tea. The headline on the display panel in front of him read, Millions ill, contamination spreading, Firms have no answers. He shook his head and tossed the thin device onto his desk, then reached over and pushed a button on his intercom.
“Holly, could you please get Dr. Winston in my office please.”
A burst of static then, “Yes, Mr. Williams. Did you…”
Henry clicked off, uninterested in whatever question his assistant had. There were far more pressing matters for him to deal with. For the last ten months people all over the world had been falling ill, and the one thing they all had in common were his company’s water shipments.
He loosened his tie, his throat felt constricted as he forced air into his lungs. He wiped a hand across his forehead and felt beads of perspiration. Henry pulled out his handkerchief and dragged it down his face. Couldn’t let the employees see him like this.
“Mr. Williams, Dr. Winston is here.”
He reached over in annoyance. “Then send him in.”
Seconds later his door slid open and a rotund little man entered his office. Dr. James Winston, one of the world’s authorities in bacterial and molecular phenomenon. Henry hired him as soon as the outbreaks cropped up. Now, almost a year later, the billions of dollars he’d spent hadn’t turned up anything useful. No army to serve his needs, no cure in sight, and based on the expression of the man across from him, no vaccine.
