Evolution Z : Stage Two (An apocalypse zombie survival thriller Book 2)

by David Bourne

  “What you see here is our current level of information concerning the spread of the infection,” Jackson started out in a neutral military tone of voice. Ray would not have expected such a firm and confident voice from this nondescript man. “As it can be clearly discerned, large parts of the US are already infected. The big cities were hit particularly hard.” Jackson used a laser pointer in the remote control to indicate the cities of Los Angeles, Chicago, Dallas, Houston, Washington D.C. and New York. These areas were colored dark red, which obviously was meant to show the degree of infection. More rural areas, on the other hand, were displayed in light to medium reds. “So far, we have not been able to establish intercontinental contacts, so that many countries are shown in black. The information concerning Europe, Russia, Asia and Africa are based on various internet rumors, as well as on estimates by our epidemiologists.”

  Ray looked at the map pensively. Australia was displayed in black, as well as parts of southern Africa. The map showed Europe to be totally infected, except for Great Britain, which was black. Almost all countries in Asia were dark red. Even if this information was based on estimates, the overall image was shocking. Ray looked at Josh and Scott out of the corner of his eye. Their faces also expressed sheer horror.

  “Our current primary target is the refugee camp Sanctuary in northern New Hampshire,” the Admiral continued. By pressing a button he switched from the world map to a blurry satellite image of a mountainous, forested area. “These are our latest available pictures of a settlement in the White Mountain National Forest. According to the information provided by our contact, this is Sanctuary.” Ray squinted, but couldn’t recognize very much. To him, the fuzzy image could have been a picture of the far side of the moon.

  “Tomorrow morning, you will take off with your helicopter and establish personal contact with this settlement. As far as we know, the family of Dr. Abbadon is located there. It is your task to get his wife and his son back to the USS George Washington unharmed. Do you have another question?” Jackson asked.

  “Not just one,” Ray replied. “I have several questions.” The admiral indicated with a nod that he should continue. “First: What about my ex-wife and my kids?”

  “According to our informer, Melissa Thompson is located in Sanctuary.”

  “I am going to get my ex-wife out of Sanctuary.”

  “We know about this part of your agreement with Master Sergeant Pelletier.”

  “I’m not so sure about Dr. Prettymonkey’s family.” Ray looked at Dr. Abbadon, who responded with a smile to this slur.

  “Mr. Thompson, your way of speaking leads me to suspect that you are the one in this room most closely related to the lower primates,” Abbadon said in a soft tone of voice.

  “And your way of speaking leads me to suspect that you’re a conceited science snob who at the same time wants to be a smartass playboy. But no, it was your dress code and your Ken Doll smile that created this impression.” Admiral Jackson just wanted to say something, but Ray looked at General Dixon and continued. “I don’t know this man—and before I’m going to do anything for him and his family, I’d like to know why I shouldn’t just get into the helicopter and start looking for Melissa.”

  “Because this order comes from the very top,” General Dixon said.

  “From you?” Scott asked.

  “No. From the Vice President of the United States.”

  The Conspiracy (III)

  Less than five miles from Tom Brady and Bravo Patrol, Reese Taylor sat in his helicopter and hovered over a small town in the night.

  Taylor had never questioned one of his employers’ missions before. However, he was now wondering whether he ought to, as he asked himself why on earth he should be the one sitting in this helicopter in the wee hours of the morning.

  Actually, last night’s briefing had been completely ordinary.

  “Taylor, you’re going to fly an evacuation mission. You will meet them at night.”

  So far, so good, he had thought. And all that talk about a little special mission didn’t bother him at first—until he actually saw what he was supposed to do.

  Taylor flew an old Bell UH-1 Iroquois helicopter, which had seen its best days during the Vietnam War. As if the dull thud of the rotors were not enough to generate noise, a large loudspeaker had been attached below the helicopter by a rope. The loudspeaker contraption hung about fifteen feet below the helicopter and had been blaring music by Richard Wagner in an endless loop for hours. Taylor swore that he would make someone pay dearly for this job once he got back home safely.

  The Company had been researching for a while how zombies could be controlled and be utilized. Until a more sophisticated method was found, they had decided to simply lure them with noise. It was not very intelligent, not very subtle, but this simple method was one thing: very effective.

  By now, Taylor had herded together a sizeable horde of the undead, all of whom greedily raised their arms skyward.

  He looked down and checked his watch. This should be enough to distract the soldiers from Fort Weeks, he thought. With a slight motion of his control stick, he turned the helicopter northward and started moving. He was aiming straight for the large forest area behind Fort Weeks. The horde also started moving, and it followed the helicopter like a huge, undead avalanche. There must have been almost a thousand of these creatures.

  Doctor Abbadon

  “The Vice President is alive?” Ray asked in amazement.

  “That is correct,” General Dixon confirmed and gave Admiral Jackson a glance instructing him to continue.

  “The Vice President was evacuated right after the virus outbreak. You might have heard his speech to the American people, which was broadcast as an endless loop via television and radio, as long as the satellites were still operational. Right now, he is at a safe location, together with the emergency government that is preparing plans to get the situation under control.”

  “I see. And the best way to get the situation under control is making sure that Dr. Abbadon sees his family again?” Ray’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  “That is correct,” Jackson replied.

  “Maybe the good Doctor could be so nice as to explain why the world went downhill at all, and just why it is necessary to save his family before we do him this favor.” Ray said and looked directly into Abbadon’s eyes. Abbadon gave General Dixon a questioning look. When the General nodded, Abbadon leaned forward and started to speak.

  “Mr. Thompson, I can understand that you have certain reservations concerning me, but I can assure you: I am one of the good guys—and I can help stop the infection.”

  These words were fraught with meaning. Josh and Scott looked at each other skeptically. Ray kept a straight face, even though his mind was racing. First of all, he asked himself why he should believe this pretty boy in a designer suit.

  “You are probably asking yourself, why in the world you should believe me,” Abbadon continued. “I would probably do the same if I were in your place. The reason is very simple: I am partially responsible for the virus outbreak, and therefore I know how it can be stopped.” He had hardly uttered these words, when Scott stood up and wanted to attack him. Ray held him back. “Let him finish, Scott.”

  “During the last ten years, I worked for a company called Vita Invicta,” Abbadon continued, unfazed.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Hardly anybody has. We were working for a very exclusive clientele of about two thousand people worldwide.”

  “Rather small for a customer base.”

  “That is correct, but it was a wealthy one. All of these people were billionaires.”

  Ray lifted his eyebrows. “And what could Vita Invicta offer these individuals that they couldn’t already get for themselves?”

  “Guess, Mr. Thompson. The average billionaire is sixty-three years old. What could these people possibly want that they haven’t been able to buy with their money so far?”

  Ray could only thi
nk of one thing that was not for sale. Then he considered the name of the company that Abbadon had worked for, and something clicked. As Ray recognized the answer, he pronounced the words in a monotonous voice. “Eternal life.”

  “Exactly,” Abbadon said. “And we were very close to making that possible.” For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Abbadon had Ray’s full attention. “Did you know that the species hydra is practically immortal?” Abbadon asked.

  Josh nodded. “I’ve read about that. These are small, fresh-water animals, about an inch long. They are called hydra after the creature from Greek mythology, whose heads Heracles cut off and then burned.”

  “Someone has been paying attention in class. I am very impressed,” Abbadon said with a smile. “Then you might also know that hydras possess a remarkable ability to regenerate. Instead of repairing cells, they replace them by dividing existing stem cells. Within five days a hydra renews itself almost completely. We were able to identify the cause of this ability. The so-called Fox-O gene was responsible for this regeneration process.”

  “What does a damned hydra have to do with the hordes of undead that now populate our world?” Scott asked grimly.

  “Humans also possess the Fox-O gene, as do some species of animals. However in our genotype, this gene is completely inactive. According to our research, it only had to be subjected to a slight genetic change to allow humans to live much longer.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Abbadon took a deep breath. His unshakeable smile up to this point had disappeared. “We performed some experiments on behalf of our clients in order to test the genetic variation. These experiments were made to look like pharmaceutical tests. There were top secret tests with ten selected subjects. At first, the results were quite promising.”

  “At first,” Scott snorted.

  “During the initial weeks, there were remarkable results. The cell division in the participants was almost identical to that of the hydra. We thought that we had achieved a breakthrough. Then they died. One after the other, until there was only one subject left.”

  “They just died?” Josh asked.

  “Initially, but then they came back—we could not believe it ourselves. After a short period, they turned into these bloodthirsty creatures now populating the world in huge numbers.”

  “How could this happen?” Ray wanted to know.

  “We don’t know for sure. When autopsies were performed, it became clear after the initial success that the cell division suddenly stopped occurring. The genetic variation appeared to have been immature. Our genetic manipulation had apparently created a virus that could be easily transmitted during the test period, while it was inactive via saliva, blood, sperm cells. The ten test subject became carriers, without knowing it. The infection must then have spread exponentially, like an avalanche. According to our calculations, the virus had an incubation period of about six months. Once it became active, all hell broke loose.”

  “This means...” Josh started.

  “This means the test subjects infected countless people during the incubation period and that basically anyone could be carrying the virus, depending on when he or she became infected,” Abbadon said. “With the exception of all the persons on this ship— you included, as your quick test came out negative.”

  “This would explain why one of our soldiers, seemingly for no reason, suddenly transformed in the mess hall,” Josh recalled, thinking of Private Maddox. “He already carried the virus in him, and the incubation period was over. After all, in Fort Weeks we are only testing for the active version of the virus. Hell, until five minutes ago we didn’t even know that there was an inactive variant.”

  Abbadon nodded. “Exactly. You should definitely check whether this soldier had also infected others.”

  “What happened to your last test subject?” Ray wanted to know.

  “During a routine checkup, he completely lost it. He developed superhuman strength and destroyed half of our laboratory. We had to shoot him. During the autopsy, we discovered that his body displayed an extreme genetic mutation.”

  “Do you know the reason for that?” Josh prodded. Ray remembered the alpha zombie at Chris’ house.

  “We assume it was connected to the fact he was a hemophiliac,” Abbadon answered.

  Ray, Josh and Scott looked at each other in shock.

  No Choice

  “We absolutely have to contact Fort Weeks,” Josh urged. “The soldier who transformed into a zombie had given a blood transfusion to an injured little girl the day before. She suffered from hemophilia.”

  “Then you should kill the child as soon as possible,” Abbadon said without emotion.

  Ray flinched at this idea.

  “You talked about a cure—a way to reverse all this. What do we have to do?” he asked.

  “Get my family out of Sanctuary.”

  “You are placing your well-being and that of your family above the lives of millions of other people?” Ray burst out.

  Abbadon looked across the table with a straight face. “This is not negotiable, Mr. Thompson. You bring my family to me, and I will show you how to stop the catastrophe.”

  Ray was near the boiling point. Scott and Josh could also barely suppress their rage. General Dixon suddenly chimed in.

  “Gentlemen, we are already past this issue in our discussion with Dr. Abbadon. We have made an agreement with him, and it must be fulfilled. The communication window will open in twenty minutes. We are going to pass on the relevant information to Fort Weeks. You are flying to Sanctuary this afternoon.”

  “We need the quick test,” Josh said. “My mother is a doctor. All people in Fort Weeks have to be tested.”

  “I will give her the necessary information about the quick test, as a sign of my goodwill,” Abbadon said with a smile.

  Ray clenched his fist below the conference table. Even though he deeply loathed Dr. Abbadon, this man appeared to be the only person who could currently help them all.

  “I want to be present when you contact Fort Weeks. If the Master Sergeant and Josh’s mother receive all the information, we are going to fly to Sanctuary this afternoon,” Ray said. Then he stood up and together with Josh and Scott, left the conference room.

  Big Game Hunting (II)

  The first message sounded rather ordinary: Bravo reported that they would be out longer, as they were pursuing looters. Then the following message came in during the night:

  “Patrol vehicle Bravo to Fort Weeks. We have stopped because of a flat tire. Looks like the sound from the blowout has attracted several of these damned beasts. The Fifty ran out of ammo during the patrol. Requesting a second vehicle to protect us while we are changing the tire. Current position mile 2-66-3 on R1.” The R1 was the main road to the base.

  The next message came in a few minutes later and sounded desperate:

  “Get us out of here, damn it! There are just too many of them! Norret bought it while trying to change the tire. We are surrounded and cannot leave the vehicle. We urgently need reinforcements. FUCK!”

  The entire radio message was accompanied by the sound of gunfire. Chad Petersen called over Private Rickson. “Private, we are going to check and see if we can help the boys from this patrol. You are taking over here in the meantime. Miller, Tsui—into the Humvee! Go! Go! Go!”

  The privates ran to the vehicle and jumped in. Tsui revved the engine and floored the accelerator.

  “Han, full speed. Miller, you man the Fifty. Bravo is only about five miles from here. As soon as you see any of these undead bastards, mow them down. The boys seem to be in deep shit.”

  Chad Petersen sat nervously on the passenger seat and checked the chamber of his silenced M4A1. Even though they only had to drive for a few minutes, every second seemed like an eternity.

  “Bravo, we are almost there. Report your status. Position, number of attackers... give me something!” The radio remained silent. “Bravo! Status?”

&n
bsp; The soldiers were just driving around a curve, when the first three undead appeared in front of them.

  “Miller, eliminate them!” The thud of the machine gun started while he was still giving the order, and the zombies flew apart, hit by numerous bullets. Further down the road, they saw the patrol vehicle in the moonlight.

  “What the fu...?” Tsui hit the brake pedal hard. About fifty yards from the patrol vehicle, the Humvee came to a shuddering stop.

  Heavy smoke rose from the jeep of Patrol Bravo, and the driver’s side door appeared to be missing. The vehicle stood by the side of the road, surrounded by about fifteen undead. At least thirty dead bodies lay behind the vehicle in a half-moon pattern. They also could see some grenade craters. The patrol must have faced a large horde of undead and fought them to the very last man standing, but additional creatures were still streaming out of the woods and along the road. Miller started shooting again. The muffled shots echoed through the forest.

  “What are you doing, Tsui? Get us closer! Those guys need us!”

  Tsui stared straight ahead and frowned. “What the hell is that?” He raised a trembling hand. To the right of the patrol vehicle and partially covered from sight by the other undead, there was something that looked like a gigantic, hairless, muscle-packed bear. In its huge paws, this creature was holding human remains clad in a military uniform, and when Miller started shooting, the giant rose. Chad was still looking at Tsui, whose eyes were so wide open that Chad thought they might pop out his head.

  With a loud bang, the torso of what had once been Corporal Brady hit the hood of their Humvee. An ear-splitting, guttural shriek made the soldiers’ blood run cold. The enormous beast dropped forward on to his hands and then ran on all fours toward the three soldiers.

  Tsui did not bother stopping to think. He automatically stepped on the accelerator again and turned the vehicle around. Just get the fuck out of here, was the only thought in his mind. Miller had turned the machine gun by 180 degrees and fired with everything he had at their monstrous pursuer, though it was not very effective. The undead rammed into the rear of the vehicle with his full weight. Metal crunched and bent, while the suspension screeched under the additional pressure. Tsui had his hands full just keeping the Humvee on the road.