The Lone Zombie of New Jersey

by Archer, Sloan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE LONE ZOMBIE OF NEW JERSEY:

  A CASE STUDY

  Copyright © 2015 by Sloan Archer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any electronic or written form without permission.

  BOOKS BY SLOAN ARCHER

  NOVELS:

  The Last Days of Ordinary

  Mercy’s Debt

  Mercy’s Danger

  Mercy’s Deception

  The Nothings

  STORY COLLECTIONS & NOVELLAS

  Wanda

  The Lone Zombie of New Jersey

  The Damnedest Things

  Click the link to get your free book: www.sloanarcher.net

  TRAGEDY IN ARCOHE:

  Mystery of Suburban Outbreak Remains Unsolved

  By Bruce Thompson

  Wilton Weekly Gazette

  (Display Week of: August 4, 2014)

  Wilton, New Jersey — Nearly one month has passed since what many East Coast residents are simply calling The Tragedy, and details provided about the incident have been minimal thus far. With pressure mounting from families of the deceased, government officials are being called upon to deliver answers about what really transpired within the borders of Arcohe, a sleepy New Jersey suburb located forty miles east of Trenton.

  For most Arcohe residents, any news would be welcomed. The cause of the purported influenza has yet to be disclosed, and very little information has been delivered to displaced citizens in regard to when they may return to their homes. At the time of press, just two official statements and a single military pamphlet have been provided.

  The first statement, released on the night of the disaster, July 7, was ambiguous. Margret Sprucen, Mayor of Arcohe, informed residents of an unidentified virus that has since been labeled A-29: A, an abbreviation of Arcohe, and 29, representing Highway 29, which runs directly through the town’s center. “At this point, I know just as much as you do,” Sprucen said. “But from what I understand, the flu is not airborne. It is, however, extremely unstable, and it is for our own protection that we are prohibited from entering town. Likewise, those currently inside town limits have been quarantined.”

  When tempers flared over the news, a teary-eyed Sprucen hastened to add: “I can understand your concern and your frustration. My son, Oscar, was attending class at Arcohe High when disaster struck. I have yet to receive word from him, so I am in the same boat as all of you. For reasons that have not yet been explained to me, all lines of communication inside Arcohe—phones, Internet, and radio—have been severed. I assure you that the military is doing everything they can to remedy the situation. I have been notified that triage has been set up inside McCalister Stadium, and those who are sick are being treated. We owe our deepest gratitude to the servicemen and servicewomen from Blakenwall who were so quick to respond and are looking after our town. I promise that I will release information as soon as it is provided, but I am afraid this is all I know for now.”

  The second update, provided by Army spokesperson Bert Lindsay six long days after Mayor Sprucen’s initial announcement, was undoubtedly the worst news the estimated two thousand remaining Arcohe residents could have envisioned. It was during a solemn early morning press conference, held just yards from the thirty-foot tall perimeter fence that remains around Arcohe town limits to this day, that Lindsay delivered the following bombshell: “It is with a heavy heart that I must report that all 1725 of those quarantined inside Arcohe have perished from illnesses induced by Virus A-29.” After a moment of silence, Lindsay continued: “Although this may offer those who have lost loved ones very little solace, doctors have confirmed that the virus produced a rapid catatonic state in the infected. Those you’ve lost did not suffer.” Flooded with questions from desperate residents, Lindsay offered a terse conclusion. “We are still working to determine the cause of the outbreak,” he stated. “But we do have it fully contained. We will begin passing out pamphlets shortly, which will provide additional information.”

  Like the statements given by Sprucen and Lindsay, the pamphlet, which was organized in a FAQ format, offered no additional information on the epidemic. Instead, it informed residents that bodies of the deceased would be cremated inside Arcohe at a time “to be announced,” and that ashes would be subsequently released to families outside the quarantine zone. It was specified that cremation was a measure to prevent possible spread of the virus. Residents were advised to seek lodging with friends and family, since emergency resources were limited. They were also asked to remain patient.

  This was twenty-three days ago.

  Displaced Arcohe residents, many residing in temporary FEMA shelters here in Wilton, are outraged. When asked if he’d received any word on the status of his home, Gus Gilmore, 47, owner of Gilmore’s Garage in Downtown Arcohe, stated this: “They’re giving us the runaround. For all I know, my house and business have been burned to the ground—probably been looted to [expletive], too. But good luck trying to get into town. They’ve got the whole damn perimeter guarded with gunmen every twenty feet. I love my business, but not enough to get shot over it.” Danny Roland, 38, a mechanic at Gilmore’s Garage, added, “It’s like a bad country song. They locked us out of our homes with nothing but the clothes on our backs and zero explanation. ‘Leave, and don’t come back until we say you can come back,’ is all they keep saying. I’m real sorry those people are dead, but I am not a rich man. I’ve got bills to pay and kids to feed. It isn’t right, them locking us out of our homes and jobs. If the same thing happened to those rich folks over in Manhattan, I can guarantee the government would have sorted out the situation within a week.”

  While it is rumored that residents may be able to return to their homes as soon as the end of the month, no official word has been released. Some Arcohe residents are feeling neglected, while others remain skeptical about their safety. All of those interviewed by Wilton Weekly Gazette stated that they were “fed-up.”

  “The term has not been employed as of yet by those keeping us from our homes, but lets just call it what it is: Martial Law,” said Paul Skonsin, 21, a political science major at Montague University. “The bodies of our friends and family are being held hostage and we, as a community, need answers. I lost my father and sister, and they deserve a proper funeral. They deserve to be put to rest.” Cynthia Walker, 72, a retired psychiatrist, had this to say: “They tell us that A-29 has been eradicated and that we are safe—that it will be safe for us to move back once they clean things up. But if that’s the case, why hasn’t the government sent anyone besides low-ranking personnel? Where has New Jersey Governor Jerry Skeers been hiding during our devastation? Sure, he’s spouted a whole lot of nice platitudes from behind the safety of his desk, but I’ll believe my town is completely free of disease after Skeers comes over to Arcohe and takes a long stroll down Main.”

  It now seems that even Mayor Sprucen has reached her limit. During a national television interview yesterday on Hugh Rosten Live, Sprucen summed up her town’s grim predicament in a simple but moving statement. “We’ve been abandoned,” she said. “We’re on our own here. Completely, utterly, and totally on our own.”

  FIELD REPORT (A-29)

  —CLASSIFIED—

  CCB (CIVILIAN CONSULTANT BADGE) ID#: 6743-29197

  DATE SUBMITTED: 11 JUL 14 TIME: 0700

  SUBMITTED BY: Dr. S. Woods RECEIVED BY: S. J. Callop

  PURPOSE: 1) Isolate source of A-29. 2) De
termine approx. date for civilian repopulation of Arcohe.

  PROCEDURE: We entered Arcohe Zone 12 at 0600 hours on 10 JUL 14. Our team of five consisted of three scientists and two armed guards: (myself) Dr. Steven Woods, Epidemiologist, Dr. Rachel Steinborn, Immunologist, Dr. Rashid Yetes, Phlebotomist, and (guards) Private Jason Thomas and Private Carey Reiken.

  This was the first post-eradication scientific exploration of Zone 12 but the sixth scientist-lead sweep overall conducted at Arcohe. Although we aimed to pinpoint a date of civilian repopulation, our main objectives were to locate and isolate the source of the pandemic, as well as obtain samples (at the source). The other five sweeps we’d completed on Zones 1, 2, 3, 7 and 11 had been useful in helping us determine which areas were affected most; however, at the time of our exploration we had yet to uncover the source of A-29.

  We were successful in locating the source of A-29 in Zone 12, but our sweep was not without complications.

  In Zone 12 we collected data at the scene of an evident auto collision that had occurred approx. fifty yards from the perimeters of Zones 12 and 13. Based on this data, we were able to ascertain the following information:

  On the morning of 07 JUL 14, Harrison Bean, a microbiology PhD candidate at Montague University, left Wilton, New Jersey, with the intention of driving to Astor-Herrick Pharmaceuticals in New York City. In his car he had samples of an Alzheimer’s vaccine he had developed under the loose supervision of Dr. Giles Bunton, a professor who’d been overseeing Bean’s PhD dissertation at Montague. According to Bean’s lab journals, it was Bean who’d created the vaccine and not Bunton. Bean had concerns that credit would be given solely to Bunton, as he was Bean’s supervisor. Without Bunton’s knowledge, Bean attempted to deliver samples of the vaccine directly to Astor-Herrick headquarters. He had not only wanted to secure credit, but also sell the rights to the vaccine for a substantial sum.

  One the way through Arcohe, Bean collided with a delivery truck and overturned his car on Highway 29. It appears Bean, disoriented from the wreck, cut himself on broken vials as he struggled to salvage the samples. As a result, he inadvertently dosed himself with a high quantity of the serum. (Note: Most of the vials containing the vaccine were damaged during the collision, but we were able to collect enough of it to begin furthering Bean’s research here in the lab.)

  Since the vaccine was tested under University restrictions, it had never been administered to live humans under Bean and Bunton’s tenure. However, it did show enough promise in animal test subjects that Bean felt it warranted a trip to Astor-Herrick. What Bean hadn’t realized was that, while the vaccine does not exhibit any negative outcomes in (human) blood cultures, its effect on live humans is toxic. (This is information we have since uncovered in our own lab trials, which I will elaborate on further at the end of this report.) To state it plainly, A-29 attacks the brain, inducing confusion, hallucinations, and violent behavior like none I have ever seen in the twenty-seven years I’ve been practicing medicine.

  Near Bean’s vehicle we found a tow truck, as well as a vandalized Highway Patrol vehicle. The times on the paperwork filled out by the police officer and tow truck driver provided us a rough sense of when Bean’s symptoms first began to manifest, which was around 0900 hours. We found blood in both vehicles but no traces of eradication fire, which suggests that Bean attacked both the officer and the tow truck driver, injuring them—most likely through bites—but not killing them. All three parties then fled the scene, presumably. (I have cross-referenced the field reports from Blakenwall’s eradication team; they also reported that no subjects were destroyed near the scene.)

  The incubation period of A-29 varies from subject to subject, but my theory is that Bean’s physical and mental condition deteriorated more rapidly (than others who were infected) because it had been dispensed directly into his system. Still, relative to other viruses, the incubation period of A-29 in not long. This, as well as Arcohe’s close proximity to Blakenwall Military Training Center, attributed to the rapid containment of the virus. It is my professional opinion that, had symptoms of A-29 taken longer to surface, the world very likely would have been facing a serious pandemic.

  Around 0800 hours, we entered a building near Bean’s auto accident, our intent to piece together his course through town post-infection. We searched the first two floors and found nothing of significance. The third floor was in a complete state of disarray: fire from the eradication team had charred much of the office, but there were clear signs of A-29 aftermath. We spent roughly an hour exploring the third floor but we did not find any evidence that Bean had been there.

  We were on our way to explore the fourth floor when Private Reiken noted that a large cabinet had been tipped on its side in front of a door. The door was obscured greatly because of the height of the cabinet, and we most likely wouldn’t have noticed it if not for Reiken’s keen eye.

  After we moved the cabinet we discovered that the door led to a supply closet. Inside the supply closet we found a woman in a comatose state, who we have since come to identify as Sally Roberts. Even without preforming an examination it was evident to us that she had succumbed to Virus A-29; she showed signs of jaundice and her breathing was shallow. Most notably, her right arm bore an infection that stemmed around a bite mark near her wrist.

  We discovered a laptop in the closet near Roberts. It had run out of power, but after we charged it we discovered information that has given us insight into how A-29 phases in the infected. This information, in the form of an email Roberts was composing, has significantly enhanced our research.

  The following pages are the email in its entirety. You will find my report conclusion following the email.

  From: Sally.Roberts@inspiredmarketing.com

  To: adamroberts@lightmail.com

  Subject: I love you. Please send help!

  Adam,

  I don’t have much time.

  In case something happens to me (and I’m pretty sure I’m in deep trouble here), I need to tell you some things . . .

  The most important thing you need to know is that I love you. So very much. Lord knows we’ve gone through our rough patches, but I want you to know that I’ve treasured every single moment I’ve spent with you, thick and thin. You made me the luckiest woman on earth by marrying me, and then you went and made me even luckier by giving me a daughter. Please tell Karen a million times each day how much Mommy loved her and, when she’s old enough to understand, remind her to always look after Dad.

  I can only hope the two of you are locked away someplace safe. You might have had a fighting chance if you heard the news sooner than we did. No matter what happens, you must look out for Karen. SHE IS THE PRIORITY, ADAM. Yes, even if it means putting her life before mine. Please, please, please keep my baby safe. For the both of us, okay?

  If I am to have just one last wish, it’s for the two of you to lead joyful lives. I don’t want you to be sad or to mourn me forever. I want you to love again and be happy. I’m telling you this because I know how you tend to feel guilty about things. Find a nice girl to love and for her to love you and Karen in return—

  Okay, I’ve got to stop this or else I’ll turn into a weeping mess!

  If I do happen to become one of Them (I simply cannot bring myself to use a ridiculous term like zombie), I want you to know what happened before I changed over. Maybe my story will help find a cure for this thing. At the very least, it’s helping to distract me from what’s happening on the other side of the door. Maybe, too, it will bring you and Karen some peace of mind to know that I didn’t suffer much during the experience.

  Also, Adam, I’m willing to gamble. If I’m found semi-intact, I want you to allow doctors to run tests and administer any experimental treatments they may see fit. Let them do whatever they want, okay? If there’s even a remote chance that I could become myself again—even if it will hurt or possibly kill me—let them try to save me. I’ve seen enough to know that anything doctors could do to me would pale in co
mparison to ‘living’ as one of those creatures.

  I’m not banking on being found, but you know Matt would kill me if I didn’t include a medical consent in this email. Lawyers! And you said my brother’s ambulance chasing would never come in handy . . .

  USE THIS EMAIL AS PROOF:

  I, Sally Marie Roberts, am hereby giving written permission for doctors to use any means necessary to save my life. I am electing my husband, Adam Roberts, as my power of attorney. This email is a confirmation of my authorization.

  I love you, Adam. Please don’t give up.

  Okay, here goes . . .

  It—whatever “it” is—started about lunchtime. I don’t know the exact time, but it must have been close to noon because Salvador, the owner of the taco truck I told you about, had just pulled into the complex. The man was more punctual than a German train.

  Salvador parked his truck in front of the main entrance like he always did, and most everyone in the office started meandering down to the parking lot to grab some food. I, however, was delayed because I was stumped on finding a slogan that was even remotely clever for that damn Franklin’s Pickles account . . . Funny to think that those stupid pickles might have saved my life.

  A few minutes later, people started trickling back upstairs with their lunches. The air soon became thick with the aroma of cooked meat, beans, and onions. I started to think that I might actually go insane with hunger, and for a few seconds I even entertained committing theft. Seriously, how hilarious would it have been if I rushed the next person who got off the elevator and yelled, Give me that taco, you asshole!