Zombie Patrol (Walking Plague Trilogy #1)

by J. R. Rain

  Joey smiled...then frowned.

  Calm down, calm down.

  He decided to pull off the freeway and eat. Yes, good choice. Luckily, he’d taken enough cash from his brother’s nightstand for gas and a little food.

  He parked at a Carl’s Jr. Maybe a six-dollar burger would help, but he doubted it. Entering the place, Joe sniffed. He smelled burgers, fries, meat. Lots of meat.

  Human meat.

  Shit.

  His olfactory registered something new. People. Standing in line, he hungrily sniffed the woman in front of him. She gave him an irritated glance. Joe backed off, concerned now. The urge was becoming stronger. Jesus. He gripped his hands behind his back. He’d planned on eating inside the diner, but his senses were too sharp right now. So were his cravings. He ordered, grabbed his bag, his drink and ate in the car.

  The freeway was still stop-and-go. Joe felt a slight headache coming on. He still felt good. Just as long as I can stay away from people, he thought. He had debated leaving a note for his brother, then finally decided against it. What was he going to say, anyway? “Hey, it was nice being locked up in your cellar, big brother. Let’s do it again sometime.”

  He still had his phone in his jacket pocket. He drummed his fingers and considered calling his brother now. Surely, both phones were being monitored. Should he risk a call? Were they actually listening to his calls? Did they really care that much about him, in particular? Surely there were others infected like him. Maybe they had bigger fish to fry.

  Finally, after a half-hour of internal debate, he called. Jack answered on the first ring. He sounded winded. “Joey?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, bro.”

  “Where the hell are you? Christ, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Jack. I’m on my way to the Seal Beach Base.”

  “The base? Joey, are you sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I don’t know what else to do, big bro. I’m not all the way better. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  As he drove, Joey heard Anna in the background, asking to talk with him.

  “Put Anna on. Please, Jack.”

  There was a pause, and Joey knew his brother was debating the request. A moment later, he heard: “Uncle Joey?”

  “Hey, sweetie. How’s my girl? I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “It’s okay, Uncle Joey! You’re turning yourself in?”

  “Yeah. I figure it’s the best thing to do.”

  “Can we come see you?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Maybe not for a while.” Maybe never, he thought.

  “I love you,” she choked. “Here, my dad wants to talk to you.”

  Jack came on. “Is Mike with you?”

  “No. he’s on his own.”

  “Well, where the hell is he?”

  “I don’t know where he went. But he promised to leave you alone.”

  Joey knew his brother was pissed, but Park Ranger Jack got it together. “You’re really turning yourself in?”

  “I am.”

  There was a pause. It was a very heavy, pregnant pause. Joey knew the implications, and so did his brother: There was a very good chance they might never see each other again.

  “Be careful, Joey.”

  “I will.”

  “Love you, man.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Joey didn’t blame his brother for being mad. Yes, it had been a bad idea to just let Mike go. Then again, it had been a very bad idea to check out the space rock.

  Bad idea after bad idea, he thought, and drove on, the hunger within him growing stronger and stronger with each passing mile.

  Very, very strong.

  * * *

  David Stetson wrapped his jacket around his hand and broke the little glass pane. He looked around again. The neighborhood was quiet. He reached inside and unlocked the back door.

  “Come on,” he said softly to the Agent in Black.

  Agent Cole followed him inside. Stetson guided him to the oversized couch. “Lay down.”

  Cole complied. The Agent’s symptoms were progressing, but he was still aware—aware that Stetson had tried to kill him, but now he was trying to save Cole’s life. Why?

  The curtains were drawn in the little cottage in Sunset Beach. Now, more than a few hundred yards away, they could hear the waves rushing. Tranquil, peaceful. Then why did the sound of it make Cole, somehow, even sicker? Although thirsty as hell, the thought of any water made him feel sick. Cole wondered why.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “This is a friend’s place. She’s out of town. No one will find us here.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “She’s...a girlfriend. No one knows of our relationship. Not the Navy, not my wife. No one. Yes, we’re safe here.”

  Cole grunted.

  “Look, you’re going to get worse,” Stetson said. “A lot worse. But then you’ll get better.”

  Cole thought about that, then asked, “Why did you bring me with you?”

  Stetson checked the kitchen for food. Cole wouldn’t feel the ravenous hunger for another day, but Stetson was starving. He tried convincing himself that his craving for flesh—human flesh—would go away. Except the problem was, he almost wished the craving wouldn’t go away. Not until he tried some. Or tried a lot.

  Insane, he thought, going through the cupboards. I’m going insane.

  He said to Cole, “I brought you with me because you’re like me now.”

  “You tried to kill me.”

  He was scanning the meat compartment in his girlfriend’s refrigerator. Jesus, what was her name? Stetson couldn’t remember. He said, “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking straight. Now, I’m making up for it. I feel a lot better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He irritably slammed the empty meat tray. Upon further scavenging, he came across a can of chili. Meat. Not a lot of it, granted, but it had some.

  Better than nothing, he thought, and fetched a can opener.

  A few minutes later, Stetson was sitting across from Cole, the open can of chili before him. The former Agent in Black showed no signs of hunger, although the scientist knew that would change soon enough. Soon, the hunger would be nearly overwhelming, followed by a period of near madness, and then...calm.

  Stetson grinned and ate. Yes, he felt great. He almost felt normal, if not for the fact that he felt so goddamn strong.

  And hungry.

  As he ate, Stetson considered the Agent in Black before him. Soon his old boss would be in that horrible state of hunger and madness. Temporary madness, as Stetson had discovered. Now, the scientist wondered how he was going to contain the man. Well, he would worry about it later. For now, he was hungry as hell.

  He said, “I mean I feel great. But I can’t get enough to eat. I’m strong, though. Stronger than before.”

  “But your eyes...”

  “Yeah, I know. Maybe that will go away, too.”

  Cole leaned back into the pillow. “Maybe.”

  “I’m thinking we need more information,” said Stetson.

  “Well, that’s what we were doing,” Cole grumbled, “when you decided to take a bite out of me.”

  Stetson shrugged. Truth was, that was the best bite of anything he’d had in some time.

  Yeah, I’m a monster, he thought, and nearly grinned.

  Cole was thinking about what he was about to become—what he would inevitably become. So little was known. It had happened so quickly. The best scientists were on it, but now he and Stetson were not privy to the latest findings. Yes, they needed more information—and fast.

  Mostly, Cole was thinking about how Stetson had attacked him. God, the man had been so strong. The Agent in Black hoped that that stage of illness and infection would be temporary for him as well.

  “Knowledge is power,” Stetson added.

  Cole nodded. “Well, knock yourself out.” He closed his reddening eyes.

  “I have an idea,” said Stetson after
a moment.

  Cole waited, eyes still closed. His mind fuzzy, thoughts chaotic. God help me.

  Stetson continued, “What about the ones that got away?”

  “Carter and Mendoza?”

  “Yeah, them,” said Stetson. And he told Cole his plan. Cole, despite feeling like hell, grinned.

  It was a hell of a plan.

  * * *

  The 605 Freeway was finally clearing up when Joey’s cell phone rang. His heart skipped a beat with the hope of his brother contacting him. The call was from a restricted number.

  His brain was feeling fuzzy again. He knew he shouldn’t pick up, but decided to anyway.

  “Hello?” he said. Even to his own ears, Joey noticed his voice sounded harsh, almost guttural.

  “Don’t hang up,” said a voice.

  It was him, thought Joey. The Agent in Black.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Then talk.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Never mind that.”

  “I can have the phone traced.”

  “Then I’ll toss it out the window.”

  “You are driving.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  Lieutenant Commander Joseph Carter considered the question, then said. “I’m going to turn myself in.”

  “And Lieutenant Mendoza?”

  “He’s on his own.”

  “Where?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Very well. I don’t want you to turn yourself in. Not yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  And the Agent in Black told Joey the plan. A few minutes later, Joe Carter got off the freeway and, instead of heading to the naval base, he continued on toward Sunset Beach.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It had been a helluva day.

  Earlier, my brother, Joey, had turned himself in—although he’d let his infected friend run off.

  Worst idea ever, I thought.

  Exhausted and feeling increasingly ill, I’d gone to bed early to try to sleep it off. But sleep never really came, and my chaotic dreams were weird, filled with frightening images. Bloody images. I was a killer in my dreams. Unstoppable, uncontrollable.

  Jesus, I thought as I lay on my simple cot in the small room that connected to the equally small living room, where I heard the TV on. I checked the time. Just after midnight. I checked my texts. Carla had news. She was coming right over. That had been twenty minutes ago.

  I swung out of bed and plodded out to the kitchen.

  “You look like hell,” said my daughter.

  “I love you, too.”

  I made some coffee. My head felt dull and sluggish. The cut on my hand felt inflamed. I ignored my hand and concentrated on the coffee.

  I hadn’t heard from Joey since he’d told me he was turning himself in, but neither had I expected to. For all I knew, my poor brother was strapped to a medical table somewhere, being poked and prodded and tested. That thought alone made me feel sick. I reassured myself that he had made the right choice. At the very least, he wouldn’t be shot by some trigger-happy cop. And, hopefully, they would give him real help. Perhaps they had already found a cure.

  I sat in a recliner next to Anna. I was about to sip my coffee when my stomach turned. I set the cup aside, suddenly nauseous.

  “You okay?” Anna asked.

  I nodded. No, I wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. She had enough to worry about these days. I said, “Anything on the news?”

  “About the outbreak? Nothing.”

  I figured it would be only a matter of time before the news about the infection and space rocks would spread. It was hard to keep infected people under wraps.

  With Joey now turned in, a very big part of me just wished that this whole damn thing would blow over. Or go away. But my own sickness made that impossible. The burning in my hand made that impossible.

  I pushed aside the thought and got up and looked out of the kitchen’s small window. It was late and Los Feliz was quiet.

  Headlights shone around the corner. Carla was here. “Anna, I’ll just be right outside.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I hesitated. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Geez, Dad. I’ll be right here. No one’s gonna come get me.” She went back to flipping through the TV channels.

  She was right, of course. I stepped outside just as Carla got out of her patrol car. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. I was about to hug her, when I stopped and dropped my hands to my side.

  “What, no hug?” teased Carla. She smiled, but I saw the slight hurt look on her face.

  “I’m not, ah, feeling well,” I said.

  “The flu?” She was about to reach up and touch my cheek, when I pulled back. “Maybe it’s better not to touch me.”

  “I hardly think—”

  “Please don’t,” I said.

  And now I thought that Carla caught the urgent tone in my voice, and perhaps even the hidden meaning. She stared at me for a long moment, then reached down to my hand, where I had received the cut after punching Mike the day before.

  She lifted my hand up and studied it closely. The cut was far, far worse. The skin around it was red and swollen. Bluish veins had begun spreading away from the cut.

  The color drained from her face. “Where did you get this cut, Jack?”

  I didn’t say anything. My brain felt cloudy. Thoughts seemed impossible to form. In fact, they were getting harder and harder to form as the hours piled up.

  “You’re infected, Jack. One of them bit you.”

  “He didn’t bite me.” I explained to her about the punch, the bloody lip, the cut from a tooth.

  “Jack...”

  I held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

  “When? When you’re attacking your own daughter? Me? When you’re chained in your own cellar?”

  “I don’t know what to do, Carla.”

  “You need help.”

  “From who?”

  “We’ll find you help.”

  “We will, I promise.” I wanted to change the subject. A part of me wanted to to ignore the problem altogether. Except that wasn’t me, of course. I never ignored problems. Hell, I made a living as a park ranger by seeing problems and fixing them,.

  What’s wrong with me?

  I inhaled and, before Carla could say anything else, I said, “Why did you come tonight?”

  “Jack, you can’t just pretend—”

  “I’m not pretending anything, Carla. Just not right now, please.”

  She studied me, studied my hand, then reluctantly said, “It’s about your brother.”

  My heart literally jolted. “What about my brother?”

  “Have you talked to him yet?”

  “No, not since he was about to turn himself in. Why?”

  Carla took a deep breath, held my gaze. “There’s still an APB out on them.”

  “Wait, why? He turned himself in.”

  “Jack, he never did. I pulled a couple of strings. A friend who knows who’s who at the base checked it out. Your brother’s still missing.”

  That hit me hard. Jesus, all this time I thought my brother was in a medical facility, or at least in custody. Where could he be?

  “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly.

  I wiped a hand over my face, rubbed my neck. It had been hell these past few shitty days. “Not your fault,” I said.

  How was I going to tell Anna? Looking up into the heavens, I realized I might be staring at the genesis of our problem down here on our little Earth. It made me feel a little inconsequential.

  “You want to come in? Maybe we can talk Anna into a game of Scrabble.” That is, I thought, before I tell her that her uncle has gone missing.

  “I wish I could,” she answered. “But I’m on duty. Jack, your hand...”

  “I know,” I said.

  “You need to get help.”
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  “I will,” I said. She looked at me for a long moment. She seemed about to touch me, and paused. I wanted her to touch me, needed her to touch me.

  “Good idea,” I said. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

  And then she surprised the hell out of me by standing up on her tiptoes and kissing me softly on the cheek. “I’ll take my chances,” she said, whispering in my ear.

  I could still feel her soft lips on my cheek as I watched her drive away.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Anna was catching up on some sleep.

  Good for her. I wish I could have said the same for myself. She’d taken the news about her uncle pretty hard. I wanted to hug her, to hold her close, to reassure her that everything would be okay.

  But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t risk touching her, not with my infected wound, a wound I had now doused with a few bottles of alcohol and a handful of penicillin I had swiped from the zoo’s veterinary supplies.

  I was surprised to see that the wound was getting worse, the darker veins spreading over the back of my hand.

  She’d finally cried herself to sleep, while I sat listening in the living room, scanning the news for anything regarding the outbreak. Nothing at all.

  I opened and closed my hand. The wound burned in a way that I’d never experienced before. In a way, it seemed to be growing hotter.

  I should have been terrified...but I wasn’t. I should be running to the doctor—any doctor.

  But I wasn’t.

  Apathy filled me. Disinterest. Fatigue. I just wanted to sit here and do...

  Nothing.

  All the while, my hand got progressively worse. All the while, I knew in my heart and soul that I had what my brother and friend had. What the people on the Internet had.

  I’m sick, I thought. Infected.

  And yet...and yet, I didn’t give a damn.

  No, I did give a damn.

  Fight it, I thought. Fight it goddammit. Do something. Anything.

  I forced myself up out of the recliner. A monumental effort. I considered what to do next. I knew I needed to see a doctor. At least, I needed to head straight for the closest Center for Disease Control.

  I was diseased. Very, very diseased.

  Shit.

  Maybe it will go away. After all, Joey and Mike seemed better. They seemed alert and healthy.