The List (Zombie Ocean Book 5)

by Michael John Grist

  He stopped in his tracks, startled. He turned; were there soldiers behind him? No, there was nothing.

  "Stacey," he said, then noticed her skin. It could have been a trick of the weak lighting, but it seemed the color in her cheeks was draining away, from a pale pinkish tone to a grayish white. Then she blinked, and when her eyelids opened again her eyes were a glowing white, swallowing up her black pupils and irises in a halogen-like light.

  His own eyes widened. This wasn't possible, but here it was happening, and if it was there then soon it would be him too. He took a step back, as if he could somehow outrun the zombie infection, then Stacey/Tracy abruptly jerked, like a toy that had had its off button punched then switched back on. On a dime she turned away from him, and started walking back the way she had come.

  He stared after her, hardly believing it. Had he just seen what he thought he'd seen? It had all happened too fast, but the way she was trudging away now was strange; her feet fell oddly and her balance shifted strangely.

  "Stacey," he called after her, but she showed no sign of hearing. It felt like his mind was trudging through mud just to keep up. Had he really seen that, or was it some delirious side effect of the serum, making him crazy? The Habitat had been sealed for ten years, that was the whole point of containment, but right now Stacey/Tracy did look a hell of a lot like a zombie was supposed to look.

  A door behind him on Blue two slammed open and then two more of them were coming, answering the question. They were dressed in farmer's dungarees and dirt streaked their faces, but there was no denying the grayness of their skin or the white lights in their eyes. Seconds later more came from other angles; a woman loped out of the old recreation room halfway down Blue three, now Salle Coram's prison, and a man dropped down an access ladder from above with a CRUNCH, hitting the deck a few yards ahead of Lucas and breaking at least one bone.

  "Holy shit," Lucas muttered, and lurched backward. The two farmers brushed by him like football players driving toward the quarterback, and Lucas bounced to the wall in their wake, watching as they shoved past the man who had fallen down the ladder. He was on his feet already, bleeding heavily from what looked like a broken eye socket, but with his eyes glowing he didn't seem to care.

  "Wait, you've got-" Lucas began, but the man ignored him and ran unsteadily after the others through the intersection and away down Blue 4, following Stacey/Tracy.

  It was an outbreak. Lucas leaned against the wall through a fit of dizziness. They all had the same glowing eyes, they all had the same pale white skin, and they were all going in the same direction.

  Farsan rose up in his mind. Where was he, and was he safe?

  The thumping sound grew louder, a tramp like dozens of feet stamping out a path, and he looked up as a throng of clamoring, white-faced bodies came around the far corner of Blue 4. There were the two farmers and the man who fell and the woman from prison, along with dozens more, all folded in around two figures in the middle. They pressed their bodies close and reached inward hungrily, but they didn't bite or scratch, didn't scream or cry out or do anything Lucas would expect of zombies.

  If anything they looked like enthusiastic dogs seeking attention, or fans hankering for an autograph.

  Lucas gawped and stood on his tiptoes and tried to see through the throng to the figures in the middle, catching glimpses of them only in shifting flashes as the heaving mass of people shifted. One was a tallish white man with dark brown hair and a scraggly beard, dressed in jeans and a military-looking jacket, with glistening eyes and a hard, stony face. Beside him walked a young black woman with big frizzy hair, younger than anyone he'd seen in ten years, who had a look of such steely determination in her eyes that it sent a shiver through him. She was talking in a low voice while the man just stared ahead, right into his eyes.

  Did they see him? He felt trapped with nowhere to hide.

  He'd never seen these people before.

  They walked on calmly and purposefully amidst the crowd, and now Lucas saw the extent of the 'zombies' following them. There were dozens, a crowd stretching back round the corner and beyond, moving in a raspy, thunderous tandem, with the sound of their breath wheezing in and out like a rustling gale.

  It was impossible but it kept happening. They kept coming, and with every step and breath he realized the truth was undeniable.

  The Habitat had fallen. Salle Coram's mission had failed. They'd been invaded, the infection had gotten in, and now it was coming for him, and somehow he was still alive. He looked at his hands; no paler than before. He had full control of his limbs, though he was still frozen in shock.

  The serum.

  He thought of Farsan, who had given up taking the serums five iterations ago, and that woke him out of his shock. Perhaps it was an earlier version that had cured him. Perhaps there was still time to give him the latest.

  There had to be a chance.

  He turned his face away from the stony man and the girl with the terrifying gaze, and ran back the way he'd come, down the corridor and into a new future where Salle Coram's laws meant nothing, into a world that he didn't understand and couldn't predict at all.

  5. TRIAL

  One week after they'd opened up the MARS3000 bunker, Anna stood in the witness box at the head of a makeshift courtroom, in the orange entrance hall of Salle Coram's Habitat, preparing to give testimony in the 'trial' of Amo for Masako's death.

  It was a joke, really. They'd cleaned up the hall the night before to give this charade the semblance of authority, but even that was a failed endeavor. Three people had been spared from otherwise essential work to go up and down the walls and scrub away at old blast stains, yellowish damp marks and the crinkled paint of fire damage, all evidence of another revolution in another time and place.

  But they hadn't even done a good job. They'd torn out the remaining TVs and boarded up the gaps they left behind, aiming at some sense of weighty intent, but still many sprays of wires poked out where they hadn't finished in time. The paintwork had bubbled where they'd damped it down, causing large streaky patterns following the arcs of a cleaner's arm span.

  Now she was sitting here, waiting, all because Amo had asked her to. Amo who now sat in the plaintiff's box with his head bowed humbly in front of everyone; beneath Witzgenstein at the high judge's desk, beneath Anna in her pulpit, beneath this jury of peers in their rows of seats, being judged.

  She didn't like it. She didn't think it was right. But Amo thought it was necessary.

  She looked at Witzgenstein, sat at her desk with the gavel in hand, enjoying herself. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly back, revealing high cheeks, a sharp nose and fiercely intelligent eyes. She looked every bit the judge.

  "Anna," Witzgenstein prompted, repeating herself. "Please tell the court what you heard."

  "I heard it all," Anna said.

  It had been chaos in her Cessna; 7,000 feet high and at the edge of despair, desperately trying to make radio contact with Amo. Poor Jake had been tapping madly at her seat back, Peters was barely conscious from the pain in his broken legs, while her whole body throbbed from having fought with the gusting, hailstone winds of a massive snowstorm for the past four hours.

  On top of that she'd been already exhausted from a solid day's flight up from the West coast 1,500 miles due east, after already crashing once a day earlier. Her first successful landing in Idaho was rocky, followed by a frantic hour of getting the refueling equipment there to work by sheer force of will, before taking off again to finish the slog to the East coast. They'd hit bad weather right away though, and become trapped in a snowstorm for hours.

  Chaos. The memory of it reached into her even sitting in the dock; the bone-numbing cold in that little, rickety plane; the click and fritz of the de-icer on the wings; the endless buffeting of the winds dragging at the throttle, and the constant deep knowledge that at any moment one of the engines could cut out and the whole thing could tumble from the sky, for the second time.

  She shuddered in t
he witness stand. Worst of all, they'd been flying completely blind. She'd had no clear idea where Amo was, as they'd been out of radio range for over two days, and now the storm was blocking all signals. Still she'd pressed on, trying over and over to raise him on the radio, so that when they finally burst out of the storm somewhere above the Pennsylvania border she'd redoubled her efforts. He had to be near. As they flew above the silent city of Pittsburgh in the dark, charting a path by ancient GPS signals and Peters' dizzy sense of the horde up ahead, with the demons closing in, she'd kept the channel open constantly.

  Then she'd seen them. There were thousands of them north of the city, sprawled across a huge swathe of highway and forest like a moonlit ocean. Their pale gray, stick-thin bodies glinted like breakers on slow-moving waves. It had stunned her so much she barely heard it when Amo finally answered her call.

  "Anna," Witzgenstein prompted, showing a little impatience. Anna nodded, and began to speak.

  She told the story of what came next to Witzgenstein and the jury. The words poured out of her; she had told Amo where the ocean were, then listened to the clamor as he struck the camp, keeping the walkie channel open. Everyone ran for the RVs, she heard engines firing up, but Amo had kept on running. In a minute Masako's voice had followed, she was angry, and Alan's voice rose up in an argument, and Amo spoke too, followed by gunfire.

  It felt good to say it, sitting in the court letting out this one truth she could afford to share. Perhaps Amo had been right. When she was finished she looked out over the congregation, feeling lighter than before.

  "What did they argue about?" Witzgenstein asked. "Specifically."

  Anna went on. "I wasn't sure at first. I didn't have the context then; I didn't know about the vote, the split in the group. But Masako was obviously angry, she sounded frantic. She said Amo was a liar; about the demons, about Julio. She said Amo was trying to hurt her or take her family away. It sounded crazy. Amo said something about saving Lin's life, and that's when she hit him."

  Witzgenstein nodded. She steepled her fingers and considered for a moment. She looked down at some notes in front of her then back up at Anna, as if making a tough decision. "And how do you know she hit him? You were only listening through your radio, in your plane, isn't that correct? There must have been engine noise, other distractions, an imperfect signal. How do you know Masako hit Amo and not the other way around?"

  Anna frowned. Something unexpected had just changed, and she peered at Witzgenstein, but her face was a total blank, giving away nothing. This was supposed to be a show trial, to clear Amo's name of all the rumors swirling through the community, but this didn't sound like a show question. This sounded like a cross-examination.

  "Why are you asking me that, Janine?" Anna asked.

  Witzgenstein usually hated to be called Janine, but it didn't have any effect now. "I'm trying to establish the sequence of events." She took a breath. "Because I'm afraid I've heard different testimony."

  Anna sat up straight. Amo in the dock did so too. The jury of every person in New LA took a sharp breath.

  "What different testimony?" Anna asked.

  "From Alan, Masako's widower, and her son Lin. They were both there, in person, as you've confirmed. The differences in their testimony are quite consequential."

  Anna looked down at Alan and Lin, sat in the front row in starched gray suits, along with everyone in the hall. Alan was sweating freely, staining his white collar. Lin looked like he was about to throw up.

  Anna turned back at Witzgenstein. This wasn't the schedule. They'd already agreed Alan wouldn't give testimony. He was a Council member himself now, after inheriting Masako's seat, and he'd pleaded with them not to make him take the stand. He didn't want to relive the ordeal of losing his wife, or so he said.

  But now? Everything was changing so fast.

  "I think we need to hear that testimony," Witzgenstein said. "Before we go any further here. If there are no objections?" She looked to Anna.

  There were plenty of objections Anna wanted to raise, but none that seemed valid. Clamoring about agreements made by the Council now would sound churlish and even elitist. In this venue, Alan plainly had a right to speak, no matter what he'd said earlier. He'd been there and could offer an eyewitness account. It was his wife.

  Janine nodded, accepting Anna's silence as approval, then banged her gavel sharply. "I call Alan Keller to the stand. Anna, if you wouldn't mind?"

  Anna got down and walked past Amo, feeling slightly in shock. He didn't meet her eyes. She dropped into the open seat beside Ravi, who patted her arm tenderly and whispered something she didn't catch. At the same time Alan rose from nearby, a little unsteadily, and walked to her place in the pulpit. He was sweating and fiddling with his fingers as he took the stand. He avoided looking out at the audience.

  This was not going as planned.

  "Alan Keller," Witzgenstein prompted. "May I remind you that all testimony in this court is given under oath. Now, would you share your story, exactly as you told it to me last night."

  Anna could only watch as Alan nodded, and twisted his tie, and mopped his brow with the back of his hand. Last night?

  He began to speak haltingly. "It's about that night in Pittsburgh. Before the demons came, before we sang round the campfires. Amo came over to us. He talked to us." He fell silent for a moment.

  "And what did he say, Alan?" Witzgenstein urged gently. "It's all right."

  Alan shifted uncomfortably. He glanced fleetingly at Amo then away as if stung. "He told Masako she would be first. Her, then Lin and then me."

  Anna's frown deepened. First? This was new. This hadn't been mentioned at any of their Council meetings.

  "First to what?" Witzgenstein asked.

  Alan gulped, then spat it out. "First to die when the demons came."

  Several people in the congregation gasped. The air went abruptly still. Anna almost laughed, but Witzgenstein took it very seriously.

  "He told you this?" she asked tenderly. "Was there any chance it was a joke?"

  Alan shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat. "He had his hand on his pistol. It was no joke."

  Anna squeezed Ravi's hand so hard he gave a little yelp. "That's a lie," she called out abruptly, surprising even herself.

  Witzgenstein wasn't surprised. She looked at her almost lazily. "Anna, please. You've had your turn on the stand. Let's hear what Alan has to say."

  "Alan's lying," she answered, raising her voice to be heard around the hall. "I've never heard any of this before. Nobody has. It's a lie."

  Witzgenstein watched impassively. She looked at the audience then nodded. "Anna's right that we haven't heard this testimony before. Alan is changing his story. It is unexpected and it won't be comfortable, I know that, but shouldn't we at least hear what he has to say?"

  Anna stood up. "Not when it's all lies."

  "He has a right to his testimony," Witzgenstein said firmly. "You'll get your turn to brand him a liar later, Anna. For now, please sit down and let him speak. This is a court of law and there are rules of conduct."

  Anna noticed she'd taken a step forward, fists clenched. Amo in front had turned around and was looking at her.

  "It's all right," he said quietly. "Let them. Sit down, Anna, it'll be fine.."

  Now she was trembling too. Something was happening that she didn't understand, and she didn't like it, but Amo looked so peaceful, and she trusted him. Perhaps this was part of a plan he'd orchestrated, without her knowledge? She forced herself to sit.

  "Thank you," Witzgenstein said, and turned back to Alan. "Please, what happened next?"

  "Then we sang," Alan said, his voice cracking in the silence. "Everyone remembers. But I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. Here was Amo, singing. I've known him for years, I've never heard him threaten anyone, but around that brazier he threatened my wife. He threatened me. And he was singing." He dabbed at his forehead, and his voice sped up. "I wanted to tell someone or do something, but I didn't
know what to do." He began to tremble. "I was afraid. Who would believe me, when Amo was a hero? How could I fight him, when he'd just killed a demon? He'd just been re-elected. I had to hope."

  Witzgenstein let that hang for a long moment. "What did you hope?"

  "I hoped the demons wouldn't come," Alan said. "I hoped perhaps it was a joke. But then the demons did come, and..."

  Witzgenstein nodded. "And then?"

  Alan took a deep breath. "I saw Amo, running from group to group. I knew he was looking for us. This was his chance. So we ran. Masako led us down from the highway and into the streets, but it wasn't fast enough. He found us still. We did argue then, just like Anna says, but it wasn't Masako who hit first, it was Amo. She tried to fight him off. She tried to run away with Lin while I just stood there." There were tears in his eyes now. "I didn't do anything, I was so scared. She was always braver than me. And he shot her for it."

  Anna's jaw dropped and she leapt to her feet. "That's bullshit!"

  Witzgenstein banged the gavel hard and now there was steel in her eyes. "Sit down, Anna! You've been asked twice, need I have you removed? This is a court of law."

  Anna stabbed a finger at her. "You're doing this. You've made him change his testimony. Stop wrapping yourself up in the court! And you-" she pointed at Alan. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

  The tears broke down his cheeks while Witzgenstein beat the gavel hard. "Order. The court will come to order."

  She was about to shout out more charges, but Amo was looking at her again, with his eyes so calm and centered. "Anna, let them," he mouthed.

  She wanted to shout out, 'Let them?' but she didn't. She stood a moment longer, feeling like the world was turning upside down beneath her. Where was solid footing now?

  "Last chance, Anna," Witzgenstein carried on. "Be seated or you will be removed."

  She looked around. Feargal was there, Ollie too. Would they? Yes, she realized, they would. Serious charges required a serious approach, and what good could she do outside the court?