by Suzanne Robb
The captain eyed her with an odd expression. “About two days, why? What’s got you so spooked?”
Ally didn’t answer. She stood and paced the small room. She could hide, odds were he wouldn’t risk being seen. He’d never expose himself to being identified, not as long as he intended to head up the new American firm. As long as she stayed on the upper deck she should be fine, but what if the doctor had put her name in the ship’s computer after she told him? Ally was an alias, but still.
She’s cut it close enough with the Betty Loo. They’d accessed the personnel files and knew she was on board. A haircut, some dye, and a few years wouldn’t have gotten by him. The only thing she had going for her was the fact they thought she was dead. Then she remembered the doctor planned to infect her, so he most likely didn’t take an image of her and load it to get identification.
A sigh of relief escaped her. She turned to look at the captain who had a strange look on his face.
“Of course, when I sent him your image, and the location where I found you, he offered a bonus.”
Ally saw the gun and knew for the time being there was nothing she could do. Too tired and weak, she’d be no challenge for him. But she intended to remember him, and one day she’d be back. She allowed him to jab it in her side and force her to the door. She struggled with it, finally getting it open after a moment. They walked down a hallway, down a flight of stairs, and over two sections.
“The brig isn’t as comfortable as sick bay, but I was warned you were quick on your feet, and to take no risks.”
He shoved Ally into the small cell and slammed the door shut. She turned to look at him, the smirk on his face enraged her, but she remained calm on the outside. She walked over to the damp mattress decorated with rust stains and laid down.
She’d been in worse positions. She needed to think of a way out. The moaning of the undead below her reminded her of what was at stake if she failed.
* * *
Charlie raced out of the building. He made his legs move as fast as they could. The rendezvous point was two miles away and he needed to get there fast. The heat his body created caused his mask to fog up. He removed it while in motion.
His field of vision went to almost zero without the infrared, but he didn’t have a choice. He ran into something solid and fell backward on his ass. He scrambled to his feet thinking it was a tree or some other obstruction, then felt a cold hand wrap around his neck and the distinctive sound of teeth snapping.
He kicked out of instinct while trying to pry the hand loose. The damn thing was like a vice. Charlie’s vision blurred, and if he wasn’t careful the rotter would get a chunk out of his face. Damn stupid idiot to take off his mask, how he didn’t smell this undead sac before he ran into it was a mystery.
The moaning got louder and as a last ditch effort he reached for his knife. He slashed blind hoping to hit it, at least throw it off balance. No such luck, the grip didn’t loosen, but something did spray across his face. Charlie squeezed his eyes and mouth shut.
The zombie snapped close to his ear, and Charlie felt the movement of air. He needed to do something now or he would be a dead man, or undead if one were to get technical. He kicked out again, and renewed his efforts to dislodge the hand crushing his windpipe.
Black dots appeared on the inside of his eyelids as white bursts let him know unconsciousness was close. He took the knife and with the last of his strength jabbed it forward, it stuck in something and the grip loosened enough for him to pry it off.
Both of them tumbled to the ground, Charlie felt the rib cage give way below him. The stench of rotten air blasted him in the face causing him to dry heave. He reached for his gun with his right hand, and looked for the face with his left one.
He found the hilt of the dagger and grabbed it, then pulled the gun and fired in the general direction of where he pulled the blade free. The body beneath him stopped its struggle. Charlie wiped the knife, grabbed some snow, and scrubbed his face until the feel of slime was gone. Then he staggered to his feet and ran.
The mask still fogged up, but he pulled it down anyway. Couldn’t risk another incident like that, he was lucky to be alive and knew it. His head pounded against the inside of his chest. A mile to go, he could make it. He hoped he hadn’t been infected. A new fear surged through him and he forced it out of his mind, other things took precedence over his personal situation.
Gunshots stopped him dead in his tracks. He hit the ground or at least got as low as he could in the thigh deep snow. He tapped the implant, static greeted him. The cold weather must be interfering with it.
“Trevor do you read me? Come in.”
“I got ya Charlie, we got some undead guys crashing the party. Get your ass over here. We need to move.”
“On my way, just about a quarter mile east. Give me a couple minutes, and try not to shoot me.”
He picked up the pace and paid attention to where the muzzle fire came from. When he got within a couple hundred yards he knelt down and grabbed the rifle off his back. He lifted his mask and looked through the scope, infrared was useless, in this temperature no one put off much body heat, but from the way they moved he could tell who the undead ones were. He fired several shots clearing a path to where his team waited.
Charlie broke into a run and within seconds joined them along with about sixty scientists, family members, and their friends. He lit the flare and waited for the plane to land. Glancing at his watch he saw they were about three minutes late.
Damn, he hoped they didn’t miss their window of opportunity. The wait seemed eternal, but then the hum of an engine… they would make it out, this time. The children were scared, and the women held them, talking to them in soothing voices as they eyed Charlie and his team with apprehension.
He wondered if they knew they were supposed to be dead. He’d been hired to kill them. Charlie wanted to know why, but first he needed to explain what was going on and make sure they were on board with starting a new life. The money transferred into his account would insure he could buy them sufficient papers to get by.
Chapter Six—
Joseph Erdman sat at his desk shuffling through all the surveillance images his satellites had captured over the last several weeks. The survivor was female, and aboard a sub run by a man with a less than favorable reputation.
Henry Williams refused to return his calls, as did Megan Roark. They were content to sit in their ivory towers while tens of millions died needlessly. When he was hired to run the firm and in turn the country, he’d gone in with many ideals.
He learned the hard way how political leanings other than greed were not required, and were in fact frowned upon. As a result his first act as leader had been to fire his entire board of directors and hire those who were a bit more like minded.
For the last fifteen years they’d clawed their way up in popularity, though not by much. People wanted the old ways because they were afraid of change. He didn’t like the way things were done, though he was in the minority. He lived in constant fear for his life, and those of his family.
They understood his concern, but supported him and his decisions. Then the unthinkable happened. An ordinary day shopping, a suicide bomber, and his family was gone in a flash. He dug through rubble with other rescue workers looking for something, anything. The only thing he discovered was a note on his desk warning him to get with the program. A warning from the other firms. Joseph and his campaign for change and equality was making things difficult for them. Slaughtering his family was their way of warning him.
After that day he made it his mission to take down Henry Williams and Megan Roark. He trained all satellites on what they were doing, planted spies in every one of their operations, and listened in on every call they made. All the while pretending to go along with their demands.
He’d hoped one day they would mess up, make a mistake, let something slip. They never did, and that only pushed him to do more. When he discovered what Henry was doing with the infe
cted water, he knew he’d found their weak spot.
As soon as he knew he stopped all shipments from Russian firms and sub-companies. He sent his military squads out to collect what water had been sent out. Too little, too late. He only slowed down the inevitable, might have even sped it up in some ways.
His people, who put their faith in his leadership, now thought he was stealing their water and going to ration it. They hoarded what they could, and all of a sudden it became the hottest black market item.
Over half the population of his country had turned into zombies and he knew extreme measures needed to be taken in order to save those who were still human. He just didn’t know what those measures were.
So, like the others who could afford to buy supplies and security, he boarded himself up in his office. Scientists worked on a cure, but his spy in Williams’s camp informed him there wasn’t one. He told his people to create a vaccine, but from the reports thus far, it was unlikely to happen.
He stared at the photo of the survivor. He needed to get her. For some reason everyone wanted this person and that made her a commodity, and he needed to know why. What made this woman so important? He uploaded his data sticks, and called his most loyal guards. He’d narrowly avoided being assassinated earlier in the day, it was time to move.
Three thin men entered wearing enough protective gear to ward off an explosion. Joseph sighed, it would only weigh them down and time was of the essence. Things were happening fast.
“Evacuate the building. I’ll meet you in the back in five minutes.”
The guards left and he heard the internal alarm go off seconds later. As panicked screams filtered their way to his ears, he made sure he uploaded all the data to his satellite. Afterwards he initiated a self-destruct sequence.
Four minutes later the building was empty and he stood outside with his men. As they entered the armored car the structure behind them shook then went up in flames.
Joseph glanced at his watch, if what he’d heard was right, the survivor would be in the hands of Richards within hours.
“To the airport, we’re going to Texas.”
* * *
Ally pushed against the door one last time. She’d been doing it for hours and so far accomplished nothing except acquiring a rusted splinter. She sighed and rested her forehead against the cool metal. She needed to think.
Did the captain tell her the truth? Were they still two days out, or perhaps only one? She hoped the captain was egotistical enough to think the protocol rules didn’t apply to him, and would try to hand her over personally.
A jolt knocked her off balance and she knew they either hit something, or were docking into place. Footsteps outside her door and the beep of a scanner let her know someone was coming. She crammed herself behind the door hoping to slam it on whoever entered. As soon as the large hunk of metal moved she pushed back with all her might.
The door slammed shut so hard, three dirty fingers fell to the ground. She smiled with grim satisfaction as she heard the captain’s scream. Payback’s a bitch, she thought with a smile. A second later the door rebounded and she got out of the way with millimeters to spare. The captain stood there holding his mangled hand, blood squirting out.
Ally kicked him in the groin and as he fell to the ground, she brought up her knee and heard the satisfying sound of his nose breaking. His head snapped back, bright red liquid pouring down his face, she punched him in the ear as hard as she could.
With a moan he tumbled to the floor in the fetal position. She searched for his gun and any key cards she might need. Grabbing everything she found in his pockets she made her way out of the room.
The sound of at least six guns cocking stopped her in her tracks. Half a dozen men in black fatigues aimed their weapons at her.
“Lisa, been a long time.”
A hole appeared in the middle of the group, and Ally’s worst nightmare came true. In front of her stood Mark Richards, he smacked her across the face. She bounced into the wall and felt a tooth loosen as her mouth filled with blood.
The spins took hold of her, but she forced herself to stand straight, and then spit in his face. He smiled back at her and then punched her. She added him to the list of people to come back and visit, then everything went black.
* * *
Charlie explained for the third time what was happening to the people aboard the military cargo plane. The engine roared and sputtered on occasion, but that was the price people paid when fuel ran out and uranium cores had a multitude of unforeseen side effects. Planes and cars, what few there were, now ran on experimental theories. So far Charlie was happy with this particular craft, they had rigged it to run on a force field generator similar to what was used in deep sea diving.
The mechanic tried explain to him they might fall out of the sky one day, but Charlie took the risk. Scanning the cowering group of people in front of him, he tried one last time.
“Some of you worked for a bad man, he decided to have you and your families killed as well as any friends he felt you may have spoken to.”
The group nodded, they were with him so far, this next part is where he lost them.
“I’m here to protect you, and get you papers so you can start a new life in America.”
They frowned at this statement and murmurs were heard all around.
“We don’t want to live there, it is poor country, and you have nothing. We go back home.”
Charlie sighed. “If you go home another man will come to kill you, you aren’t safe. Whatever it is you uncovered, your government does not want the world to know. You can’t go home.”
Some of the children cried, as did a few women. The scientists though, he assumed that’s what they were based on the lab coats they wore, nodded their understanding.
Charlie knew the data stick contained whatever it was they knew that made their boss sign their death warrants. Trevor was in the front trying to go through all the information on a display panel, but since it contained every bit of information regarding the firm’s infrastructure, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And it was encrypted.
He took a chance. “If any of you can tell me what it is you found out, I would appreciate it.”
Most of the faces turned away, looked elsewhere, a few stared at him with fear in their eyes. A short man, about fiftyish, wearing spectacles and a stained shirt, spoke up. “They had us researching the outbreaks. We linked it to the water they were bringing up from the ocean. They wanted to see if it could be cured, or if there was a way to purify it of the bacteria. We found nothing, that’s when our boss disappeared and we were locked in the laboratory until you came for us.”
“Don’t forget about Unit 784.”
Charlie looked into the crowd of faces but couldn’t identify the speaker.
“What are you talking about? What was Unit 784? Is it a place? A weapon?”
The same man who spoke before wiped his spectacles and took a deep breath. “It is something worse. Mr. Williams started us experimenting many months ago to find a serum or vaccine. He also wanted to see if it was possible to use them for military service.”
Charlie cleared his throat, he didn’t have to be told he wouldn’t like how this story ended.
“What happened?”
The man slid his glasses into his pocket. “We created something new, a stronger and smarter zombie with a slowed rate of decay. It is possible a bite from 784 would pass on those particular traits. There have been reports…”
Charlie stood there with a stunned expression on his face. No wonder Henry wanted all these people to die. If word got out about this it would destroy the Russians, not that it mattered now. The world had gone to hell, now it was about survival.
What social media outlets were still on the air ran stories about disease, and not to worry about what was happening, people were working round the clock to find a cure. What a load of crap, there was no cure, and millions were dead, with millions more on the way.
; He sat as if a heavy weight had been placed on his shoulders. They needed to find a way to survive, prevent human extinction, but when there were hundreds of millions of the undead walking the Earth what were the options?
His band of merry men were not enough to fight a war on zombies, let alone try to alert the world to the real cause of the illness, and then fight off the kill squads the firms and tattered remains of governments were sure to send.
Charlie leaned his head back on the side of the plane, the vibration caused a headache. He didn’t care, it was the least of his worries. He closed his eyes and feelings of frustration and guilt washed over him.
His mind kept going back to those he wasn’t able to save on the submarine. The call came in, but he’d had to decline it. He knew it would go to someone else, someone who would actually go through with it.
When the media did a short blurb about the tragedy at sea and he saw the image of his friend he wanted to scream. For a moment he thought he did, but realized it was an incoming message on his implant.
He tapped it once and listened to the mechanical voice. “Richards is on the move, picked up a shipment of zombies, and a woman, looks like one from that submarine mishap a few weeks ago. He’s currently heading westward out of Florida.”
The message clicked off, and he went into immediate action. Charlie stood and ran to the front of the plane, he forced the door open to the cockpit and yelled over the drone of the engines.
“Land us as close to Austin as you can.”
Charlie knew where Richards would go, and what he would do once he got the information he needed from the survivor. He raced over to Trevor and grabbed his shoulder. He looked up, a shocked expression in his face.
“Richards just picked up a shipment of zombies and a survivor from the submarine accident, we’re going to the compound. As soon as we land, put Luke in charge of getting all these people settled in and safe, or at least as safe is nowadays.”
