Caged 5: A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller (Zombie Lockup Series)

by Chuck Buda

  The Warden may have a head start with his zombie army. But Muncie would catch up and overtake the shambling husks of soldiers with real muscle. Real heart. Living, breathing men with determination to survive the end of the world. Not a sea of hissing deadheads with one thing on their minds.

  Who could he toss into the flames? Which man would serve the purpose he required? Someone who would surprise the rank and file members of the guard? Somebody who would frighten Gorgon?

  Guyton.

  Muncie smiled. Guyton’s death would send ripples through the Warden’s soul. He had taken ownership of the man, re-deploying him for his own purposes without clearing it with Muncie. Guyton would be the perfect sacrifice.

  “Sir?”

  Muncie hadn’t realized he had drifted off in his thoughts. Rivera’s presence irritated him.

  “Get back to your post until I call for you.”

  “But what about your plan? Who are we grabbing for the cage?”

  “WE aren’t doing anything. YOU are returning to your post. And I am going to select the one who will catapult us into the next phase of taking back this prison’s control.”

  Rivera hesitated after taking a step back. His expression begged Muncie for a name but Muncie wouldn’t appease the request.

  “Go on. Be glad it isn’t you. For now. You’ll know as soon as everyone else does.”

  Muncie stared after Rivera. The man hurried away. The sound of Rivera’s panting echoed through the corridor.

  He flexed his muscles, feeling his pecs tighten beneath his uniform. Things were beginning to shape up. The pieces were falling into place. Finally. Muncie had been losing control, his grasp on the power base within Warsaw had dwindled since the outbreak. For the first time in a long time, Muncie saw himself rising to the mountain. Gorgon was Muncie’s Everest. For years, Muncie had served the man dutifully. Loyally. Always accepting his place as second fiddle. Hoping for the day when the Warden would step aside so he could assume the command. With the virus and the quarantine, Muncie’s grasp on second in charge had been tenuous at best.

  Soon, he would cast Warden Gorgon aside and finish what they had started. Killing every soul within the walls and fortifying the prison against the hostilities from outside. There was no more room for thousands of men. No more team survival.

  Just Muncie. And everyone else.

  Muncie straightened his uniform and made his way for Guyton.

  Chapter 4

  Shipley hurried with his work. After formulating his plan to level the playing field, Dr. Shipley knew time would be his biggest adversary. Dixie and Samantha had rounded up a few dozen rats for him. Samantha had dealt with the filthy task without complaint. Dixie had gone through with the orders, even though she squirmed and squealed each time they snatched up a rat for testing.

  The results hadn’t been immediate. The first batch of rats had fallen prey to the zombies in A-Pod. One rat had managed to scurry beneath the shambling creatures, eluding the grasp of the slow predators. Until it had paused near the back of the pod, when a saliva-dripping monsters wandered out of one of the bathrooms. Its foot had pinned down the tail of the rat below. As the rat squeaked and attempted to nibble its way out from under the purple flesh of the foot, the zombie looked down upon the fresh meal. Shipley watched it bend down to lift the rat to its smiling maw. At least, Shipley felt as if he had seen a smile stretch across the creature’s face.

  As they adjusted the mixture of steroids and plasma, the rats began to exhibit some of the same behaviors as the zombies who had received the Warden’s transfused blood. The rats acted more docile, lethargic. It appeared as if the rats had been under the control of his thoughts. Alas, Shipley found he had no control of the rodents, whatsoever. He strained and focused all his energy to speak to the rats via silent commands from his brain. It wouldn’t work.

  He had planned on failing because he knew the Warden’s mixture required the one component which had been missing from his testing. Warden Gorgon. Only the Warden could transmit his thoughts to whatever shared his plasma. But Dr. Shipley hadn’t any skin in the game. He hadn’t transfused his own blood. Yet, he had to be sure the possibility was explored.

  The next set of tests worked as Dr. Shipley had intended. He had separated the remaining rats into two sets. A test group and a control group. The test rats were given the placebo shots, an ineffective broth of water, steroids and anti-depressants. The control rats were given the full measure of steroids and Gorgon plasma. Then Shipley submitted one rat from each set into A-Pod with the assistance of Guyton and Samantha.

  The test rats would survive the initial wave of zombie bites. They remained strong and full of energy as the anti-depressants worked through their systems. The watered-down steroids would provide the necessary coagulants and healing properties to stave off death. However, the rats would eventually succumb to the fever and the process of dying once the shots wore off.

  The control subjects survived the onslaught of feeding. Their wounds would heal and somewhat reverse course, even though the fever and dying occurred at a more moderate pace. After a period of several hours, the control rats would work their way throughout the pod in search of their next meal. But they refused the formerly human zombies as a source of protein. Likewise, the zombies refused to feed upon the control group rats.

  Their bloodlines achieved a symbiotic signal which placed all the undead creatures, both two-legged and four-legged, on equal footing. Somehow, the zombies knew not to eat each other.

  And so Dr. Shipley’s results had been perfect. He had learned all he needed to protect himself from the devious clutches of both Muncie and Warden Gorgon. With his safety line secured, Shipley could focus on the work at hand, and rest better knowing he had a backup plan if the walls closed in on him.

  Dr. Shipley wasn’t a fool. He knew Muncie would come around again. And again. The man was relentless in his pursuit of squeezing the life force out of anyone who he didn’t like. Especially those who stood in his way. Muncie would continue to bring pressure to the Infirmary, pushing for any information he could use for his own evil purposes. Shipley saw the hatred in Muncie’s eyes. Muncie had it out for Warden Gorgon. Dr. Shipley had been slightly surprised it had taken this long for Muncie to crawl over the undead in order to usurp the golden throne upstairs.

  Then there was the Warden.

  Everything Warden Gorgon undertook since the virus outbreak had been about protecting himself from the end. The Warden stood proud upon his soap box, preaching how he was concerned with his responsibility of taking care of his charges, keeping the walls up so the outside world couldn’t bleed into the prison. But Dr. Shipley could read between the lines. Gorgon worked tirelessly to control the prisoners and his staff so that his prison remained indestructible. And his employees remained in line. The Warden was a very smart man. He could sense that his attack dog was sniffing at the gap under the door. Once Muncie found a weakness in his plans, Warden Gorgon’s tenuous grasp on Warsaw would be gone.

  Dr. Shipley was perhaps the only person inside the prison who could effectively manage the tension between the Warden and Muncie. Because they both needed him. Shipley was the key to both men achieving success. And if Shipley played his cards right, utilizing the insight he had uncovered with his “lab rats,” then he would be the one sitting in the golden throne upstairs at the end.

  He laughed for a moment. The sound of his laughter stopped his blood cold. It felt foreign, like laughter from a madman somewhere down the hall. Shipley nervously glanced over each of his shoulders to be sure Samantha and Dixie weren’t close by. If he maintained his emotions, Shipley understood his chances for pulling off the surprise coup would be strong. However, if he let on he was up to something, a hint of impropriety, then Samantha and Dixie would turn him over to the authority of the Warden.

  Or worse.

  Muncie.

  Dr. Shipley removed his glasses, fogged the lenses with his breath and cleaned them on his coat sleeve. He sh
ook himself from his worries and returned to his notebook. As he jotted some last notes on his observations, Shipley smiled to himself.

  Chapter 5

  Janie had showed up in the middle of the night. She’d used the auspicious timing to speak to Bo without prying eyes within the pod. At least, that’s what Bo had figured.

  She’d been sleeping restlessly anyway. But the interruption still caused her to respond grumpily. Janie shushed Bo and summoned her to follow along. Bo huffed and trailed Janie to the door. The pair stepped into the solitude of the corridor beyond D-Pod.

  “What do you want?” Bo crossed her arms.

  Janie glanced up the hallway. “I needed to level set with you after Luna.”

  Bo huffed. She wasn’t sure how contrite Janie could be. After all, she had been in charge of their pod and it was SHE who had forced Bo’s decision to issue a death sentence. And even if Janie was truly sorry, Bo wondered how far she could trust Janie now.

  “You were supposed to have our backs. Instead, you bust in and demand to take one of us to the grave. Now you want me to accept your apology?”

  Janie’s expression soured. For a moment, Bo thought Janie might break down and cry. It would be uncharacteristic of the large, tough guard. The moment passed as Janie seemed to get a grip on her emotions.

  “Those were the orders. I had to do my job.”

  “Whose orders? The Warden’s? Am I supposed to believe the Warden wants random prisoners executed on a whim?” Bo ran a hand through her black hair.

  Janie clenched her teeth. “You can believe whatever you want. Orders are orders. As long as the prison is standing, I have a job to do. It doesn’t mean I like it.”

  Bo snorted. “Yeah, cause standing up for what’s right would make you as worthless as one of us, wouldn’t it? You know, Warsaw is just as bad as the streets - out there.” Bo pointed to the far wall as if the sterile concrete were a picture window overlooking a scenic park. “Danger all around, filthy vermin out for themselves and nobody to trust.”

  It became Janie’s turn to cross her arms. She shifted from one foot to the other.

  “I’m sorry. I had a job to do and so did you. And we both did what was right.”

  “For who?”

  “For us. And everybody else.” Janie rolled her eyes. “Luna was a weak link. She didn’t stand a chance of surviving in here or out there. It was inevitable. And the second I fail to follow through on my duties, the system breaks down. And if the system breaks down, the prison is no longer in control. I would die. You would die. All of us would die.”

  Bo nodded. She sniffed hard and rubber the back of her hand along the side of her nose like a hip gangster. “So we’re all on the same side, is that right?”

  Janie stared at Bo without responding.

  “Cause if we’re all in it together,” Bo formalized her statement with air quotes, “then the pod doors should be opened and the inmates should be free to roam the prison.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? How does that make any sense? Like you guys wouldn’t exercise every chance to kill us guards and break free?” Janie clenched her fists.

  Bo grew amused at the reaction she was getting from Janie. She felt the guard deserved to feel the strain as much as she had.

  “Have you ever thought of asking politely? Maybe we’d get along if we knew we were welcome.”

  Janie shook her head. “Look. I don’t want to argue. I wanted to apologize for carrying out my orders. I was only doing my job. I wanted you to know it wasn’t personal.”

  Bo stepped closer to Janie. Her face only reached Janie’s chest but she craned her neck up and forward to hammer her point home. “Tell that to Luna. Or Maria.”

  Janie held her position without backing away from Bo’s aggressiveness.

  “I’m still willing to help. I’ll do what I can to get us all through this but you have to meet me halfway.”

  Bo turned to head back to the pod. She paused before reaching for the door. “Locked inside, there is no halfway. It either IS, or it ISN’T.” She rubbed her palms together. “I have to rebuild the trust we had. I thought I knew you.”

  Janie moved closer. Bo saw tears welling inside Janie’s eyes. “You can trust me. Don’t you think this conversation, here in the hallway, in the middle of the night, isn’t risky too my safety? If the Warden rounds the corner, I’m dead meat. But I took the risk so I could make things better.”

  “Things aren’t better. They’ve gotten worse. You need to put yourself in MY shoes. I’m the one at risk here. Locked in that pod, I have no options to run or walk away. If they lose their trust or faith in ME, then I become the next bitch shanked in the bunk. Out here, your protected by your armor and your weapons.”

  Bo waited for Janie to counter her argument. Janie looked uncomfortable, desperate for understanding. Bo had no desire to ease her informant’s mind. The way Bo saw it, it would put herself in a position of strength to walk away and call the shots rather than cave to the guard’s pleas for forgiveness. Like playing hard to get.

  “I better get back to my bed before word gets around that I’m sneaking off with you. Otherwise, I’ll have to pretend I had to give you head to keep us alive. And I’d rather not think of such a thing.”

  Bo gently opened the door to D-Pod. She stepped across the threshold, pulling the door shut behind her. Bo stole a glance around the pod to ensure nobody had wandered out to smoke a butt or start a game of cards between insomniacs. She watched Janie step to the window. The key slid into the lock with hardly a sound and the tumblers fell into place with a hollow click. Janie’s face remained close enough to the glass that a cloud of condensation grew around the center of her mouth. Bo forced a sarcastic smirk and then put Janie’s face behind her.

  As Bo neared her bunk room, she felt the eyes burrowing a hole through the back of her skull. She knew she had gotten to Janie, which pleased her.

  Now, Bo would have to wait to see if the seeds would germinate.

  Chapter 6

  Warden Gorgon glanced around the hall. He found it strange that Guyton wasn’t on post at A-Pod. The Warden shrugged, figuring his guard had taken a bathroom break. He made a mental note to chastise Guyton for leaving the post unattended. The general rule amongst the staff was to ensure at least one guard was on post at all times. Maybe Guyton hadn’t assumed the rule still applied once he had been reassigned to A-Pod. The Warden realized he might have jumped the gun on Guyton’s reprimand. After all, Guyton had probably determined his case was special because the Warden had singled him out for reassignment. Besides, Guyton only had to watch a sealed door to a room full of zombies.

  All the more reason to be extra cautious.

  Gorgon loosened his tie. He checked his wristwatch to mark the time he had to wait for Guyton to return.

  A groaning creature inside A-Pod bit at the glass of the small window. Its rotted gums oozed pus and saliva, drenching the blackened teeth and lips. Warden Gorgon stepped closer to the glass. His curiosity piqued about what was actually running through the mind of the thing inside. Was the zombie truly mindless, simply following its nervous system? Or was there some latent trace of animalism fighting to awaken the human survival instincts that used to reside there?

  Gorgon decided to experiment as he waited for Guyton’s return. He focused his mind toward the zombie biting at the window. His command to cease moving took hold almost instantaneously. The zombie remained stoic. Staring through the glass. The Warden dipped his head to the right, entreating the creature to follow suit. Its movements and expressions mirrored his own. The Warden commanded the zombie to turn and face left. It did so without hesitation.

  As the Warden began to summon the creature to do a little dance, for entertainment purposes, he thought he caught a glimpse of Guyton inside A-Pod. But it didn’t make sense. Why would Guyton be locked inside the pod with all the monsters? It would be too dangerous. And he would surely get himself killed.

  The Warden dismissed the possibility. I
t must have been an inmate who resembled his guard. He turned his attention back to the zombie which stood within the window. Gorgon instructed it to shuffle its feet forward, slowly disappearing out of the view of the window. He figured it would be more practical to work on useful commands instead of amusing himself.

  As the zombie loped out of the window’s frame, Warden Gorgon caught another flash of a creature resembling Guyton. He decided to leave the shuffling zombie to his own devices and concentrate his energy on the one who looked like Guyton instead. His mind reached across the waves of undead, stretching to find purchase on the one in the dark clothing. Too many monsters darted to and fro, eclipsing a clear sight line to the one in question. Gorgon tapped each creature individually with his brain, moving them aside with his orders, forcing each one to remain along the far walls.

  With a direct view of the one in dark clothing, Warden Gorgon’s stomach roiled. There was no doubt the creature he stared at was dressed in a guard uniform. He implored the zombie to turn and face him so he could confirm his fears. Slowly, the thing shambled in a semi-circle, revealing the true identity of what used to be alive.

  It was Guyton.

  Warden Gorgon choked back a hot flash of vomit.

  How could this have happened? How did Guyton get in there? Did Muncie toss Guyton inside as a shot across his bow, firing the first salvo in a personal war between the Warden and his chief commander? What could he do now, if his voodoo consultant was no longer available as a resource?

  Gorgon smashed his fist against the door. He pounded several more times, pain shooting up his arm, the thudding of his hand drowning out the alarms screaming inside his head.

  His control of the creatures in A-Pod waned. The zombies returned to their wandering, most of them ambling for the door, following the Warden’s banging as a beacon for food.