Zombie Apocalypse: The Chad Halverson Series

by Bryan Cassiday

  “Like I said before,” said Bascomb, “you can tell your version to the court.”

  “Face it,” Jones told Halverson. “You’re just not lucky. You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Bastard,” hissed Halverson. “You bitched me.”

  Jones sneered and advanced on Halverson. “I found out where you were coming from. That’s all I did. The Chosen One suspected you of instigating a plot against him and he was right.”

  “You put words in my mouth.”

  “The thought was already in your mind and I wormed it out of you.”

  Halverson shook his head in disgust with Bascomb’s and Jones’s subterfuge. “You’re as nutty as your boss.”

  Jones clenched his meaty fist and looked like he was about to take a swing at Halverson, which wouldn’t have been easy what with the iron bars between them, Halverson knew. He doubted Jones’s oversized fists would fit between the bars.

  Bascomb put his oar in. “It’s all that bad luck of yours, Halverson. That’s what it is. You carry it around with you like a vulture perched on your shoulder.”

  “I thought cruel and unusual punishment was against the law,” said Reno.

  “What’s your point?”

  “Listening to your BS is cruel and unusual punishment.”

  Bascomb glowered at Reno. “You haven’t reached the punishment stage—yet. You’ve had it easy so far.”

  “Locking all of us up isn’t gonna do you any good,” said Halverson.

  “I hope you have a good attorney in mind,” said Bascomb. “I wouldn’t want you representing me. Not after you botched your last trial.”

  Bascomb turned to leave.

  “You’re gonna need as much manpower as you can get if you have to deal with the ghouls in the near future,” said Halverson. “You can take that to the bank.”

  “Did you find out what they’re doing over there on the mainland?” Reno asked Bascomb.

  “We’re not worried about the infected,” answered Bascomb. “They can’t swim, they can’t walk on water, and they can’t sail boats. So how are they gonna get over here? Why worry about them? Whatever they’re doing doesn’t concern me.”

  Bascomb strutted away with his entourage in tow.

  “Never underestimate your enemies,” called Reno after him.

  Bascomb stopped on a dime and slewed around. “I almost forgot to tell you. Your whole group is quarantined.”

  He resumed his departure.

  Halverson and Reno traded puzzled looks.

  “Why?” hollered Reno after Bascomb.

  Bascomb ignored him and disappeared around the corner.

  “To hell with him,” said Reno. “What difference does it make anyway? We’re already under lock and key. What difference does it make whether it’s for punishment or quarantine?”

  “The question is, why?” said Halverson.

  Reno shrugged. “Just another trumped-up charge to make us feel miserable.”

  Halverson pondered it. “He must think we have the plague.”

  “Why would he think that? We’re as healthy as he is.”

  “Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

  “If we had the plague, we’d know it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel sick.” Yawning, Reno sat down on his bunk. “Tired and fed up with this joint maybe, but not sick.”

  Chapter 56

  Halverson paced around his cell, canvassing it, searching for a way out.

  “I’ve done that already,” said Reno, watching him. “There’s no way out. After all, this is a jail.”

  “I’m not gonna just sit here waiting for them to come and get me.”

  Halverson halted at his small sink and scoped it out, rubbing his chin.

  “What are you gonna do? Crawl out through the drainpipe?” said Reno. He pulled a face.

  Halverson said nothing.

  Reno spotted Selena Playa approaching. He strode to the front of his cell and buttonholed her.

  “You don’t happen to have the keys to these cells, do you?” he asked.

  “Fat chance,” she answered.

  Clad in a black tank top and dirt-streaked khaki cargo pants, she looked like she had put in a long day at the pit. Her face and arms were covered with sweat.

  “Have you heard about us?” asked Halverson.

  “About your being locked up as looters?” She nodded. “News travels fast in this place.”

  “What about Brittany? Have you found out what happened to her?”

  “We haven’t seen hide nor hair of her,” chipped in Reno.

  A guarded expression on her face, Selena turned away from them.

  “What happened to her?” Halverson asked with concern, picking up on her reaction.

  “I haven’t seen her,” she answered.

  “So what happened to her?”

  Selena faced him, thinking about it.

  At last she said under her breath, “She was probably molested or will be by Bascomb.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” said Reno, leaning toward them, eavesdropping on them.

  “Why do you say that?” Halverson asked Selena.

  “That’s what he did to me,” she answered, her voice tight. “If he takes you to his house, that’s what happens.”

  “Rapist,” said Halverson between his teeth. “We gotta help her.”

  “How do you propose to do that behind bars?” asked Reno.

  Halverson clutched the iron bars before him and leaned toward Selena. “We need your help to get out of here. Can you get the keys for us?”

  “I don’t know where he keeps them.”

  “Is there some way you can help Brittany?” asked Reno. “You know where he’s keeping her prisoner, since you’ve been there.”

  “He got tired of me and threw me out. Nobody stays there forever. I’m not allowed to go to his house anymore. Once he throws you out, that’s it.”

  “The more I know about this guy, the less I like him,” said Halverson.

  “Guy is a piece of work,” said Reno.

  Halverson hoped Bascomb never took a fancy to Victoria. Halverson didn’t want her to end up victimized in Bascomb’s bedroom.

  “Maybe Brittany will fight him off,” said Reno.

  “She won’t have a chance,” said Selena. “He drugs you first—with Roofies or Special K—and then he attacks you.”

  Her full mouth twisted into a sneer as she recalled Bascomb’s assaulting her.

  “Roofies or Special K?” said Halverson.

  “Rohypnol or ketamine. They disorient you and you can’t move.”

  “How do you know so much about drugs?” asked Reno.

  “I told you, I’m a trainer. I have a medical background.”

  “Then we have to get her out of Bascomb’s house,” said Halverson. “That’s all there is to it.”

  “I can ask around and see if anyone else has heard anything about her.”

  “I guess we’ll have to settle for that for now,” said Halverson, unable to come up with anything else they could do under these conditions.

  Selena weighed it. “I might be able to wheedle something out of Kobe. I know he likes me.”

  “Don’t trust that snake in the grass whatever you do.”

  “I don’t plan on trusting him. I’m just gonna see if he knows anything about Brittany.”

  “I wouldn’t believe anything he says.”

  “He likes me. Didn’t you hear me before?” She plucked coyly at her tank top between her cleavage.

  “Oh,” was all Halverson said.

  “He has good taste,” said Reno, ogling Selena.

  “Good-bye,” she said and took a powder.

  “I’m gonna kill Bascomb when I get out of here,” muttered Halverson.

  “You’ll have to stand in line,” said Reno.

  Halverson sat down on the edge of his bunk, leaned over, and tied his shoe. Finished, he sat up and massaged his bristly face.

  “I’
m getting scruffy,” he said.

  “We all are,” said Reno, running a hand over his cheek. “Except for Bascomb, that is. He has all the comforts of home.”

  “You’re making me feel bloodthirsty again.”

  “I never figured I’d end up in the joint, especially not for something I didn’t even do. I’m not a murderer and I’m not a looter, and here I am in the hoosegow.”

  “I have a plan,” murmured Halverson.

  Chapter 57

  Selena idled out of the prison’s main entrance into the fog. She felt sorry for Brittany. She knew what Brittany was going through or had already been through at Bascomb’s house. What Selena didn’t know was what she could do about it. She didn’t see how she could help Brittany.

  Bascomb had a lock grip on the island, Selena knew. There was no way anyone could stand up to him. He could do as he pleased.

  As she walked down the path she all but bumped into Kobe Jones and Tattoo Head. The fog was so thick she had difficulty making them out even though she stood within several feet of them. She saw enough though.

  They were hauling a body between them.

  “What happened?” she asked, eyeballing the body that sagged between Jones and Tattoo Head.

  Jones was holding its hands and Tattoo Head was holding its feet, she could see. Both Jones and Tattoo Head were wearing yellow latex gloves.

  “Nothing,” answered Jones brusquely.

  It looked like a woman’s corpse to Selena. “Is she dead?”

  “Just stay away. She’s one of the infected.”

  “Did you get her from the mainland?”

  “No. We got her here.”

  “How can that be? There aren’t any infected walking free on the island.”

  “Not anymore,” said Jones and glanced at the corpse in his hands.

  Jones and Tattoo Head kept walking awkwardly forward. They couldn’t make much time what with the dead weight they were hefting between them. Tattoo Head grunted under the pressure the weight of the corpse was exerting on his back.

  Selena followed in their wake. She was surprised to note that the corpse was naked.

  The corpse’s face looked familiar. It was hard to discern it through the fog, and the fact that it was partially decomposed didn’t help matters when it came to ID’ing her. Of one thing she was sure: it was a female face.

  It looked like—

  She held her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp.

  It looked like Brittany.

  What had happened to the poor thing? Selena wondered. Selena felt responsible somehow, as though she could have prevented it from happening. Of course, that was nonsense. What could she have done to prevent it? Prevent what? She didn’t even know what had happened to Brittany. All Selena knew was that Brittany had got the plague somehow and was dead.

  “What happened to her?” Selena repeated.

  “None of your business,” said Jones. “She’s got the plague, so stay away from her. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Where did she get it from?”

  “We don’t know. She must have had it before she came onto the island.”

  Selena followed them a little farther, but didn’t want to rile Jones. “Does the boss know about this?”

  She thought she heard Jones chortling.

  “He knows,” he said.

  Why was he chortling? Selena wondered.

  And why was Brittany naked? Selena wanted to know, but didn’t ask. Asking would be sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. She figured she already knew the answer, anyway, considering her own history with Bascomb.

  “Why did you kill her?” she asked.

  “She attacked us,” answered Jones. “It was self-defense.”

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “We’re gonna burn her. All of the infected have to be cremated after they die. You know that as well as I do.”

  Selena watched them disappear down the path into the fog.

  Chapter 58

  In his cell Halverson was peering out between the iron bars when he spotted Selena approaching. She looked disconcerted.

  “Did you find the keys?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “I found out what happened to Brittany, though,” she added, her face glum.

  “Is she OK?”

  “No. She’s not. She’s dead.”

  “What!”

  Reno overheard them, sprang to his cell’s door, and clutched the iron bars. “What happened to her?”

  Selena ran her hand over her face. “They killed her.”

  Halverson could not believe his ears. “Why? For looting? How come she didn’t rate a trial like the rest of us?”

  “They shot her because she got the plague.”

  Selena’s response knocked Halverson and Reno for a loop.

  It took a minute for Halverson to gather himself. “How did she get the plague?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Selena.

  “Maybe they’re lying about it,” said Reno. “Maybe they used the plague as an excuse to kill her.”

  Selena shook her head, no. “I saw her body. She had the plague.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” said Halverson. “Where did she get it from?”

  Selena paused a beat. “She was naked.”

  “Naked?” said Halverson, screwing up his face with bafflement. “What do you mean? When was she naked?”

  “I saw them carrying her corpse. Her corpse was naked.”

  “Why would she be naked?” asked Reno.

  “Why kill her and strip her?” said Halverson, more to himself than to anyone else.

  “They were carrying her away to cremate her,” said Selena.

  “But why strip her to cremate her? You’d want to burn her clothes as well as her body if she had the plague. Her clothes could be contagious.”

  Selena debated whether or not to tell them of her suspicions that Bascomb had molested Brittany, hence the cadaver’s nudity.

  Before she could reach a decision, Bascomb and his retinue barged through the main entrance of the prison and paraded down Broadway straight toward Halverson’s cell.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you killed Brittany?” demanded Halverson.

  “I didn’t kill her,” answered Bascomb, coming to a halt in front of Halverson’s cell.

  “Somebody did.”

  “I did,” said Jones, at Bascomb’s side. “She got infected and tried to kill us.”

  “Never mind about that,” chimed in Bascomb. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he told Jones.

  “How come she didn’t get a trial like everybody else?” said Reno.

  “It was an open-and-shut case of self-defense.” Bascomb waved Reno off. “I didn’t come here about that. We’re executing a criminal tonight and I’m taking both of you to the dungeon so you can witness it and see your future.”

  Selena’s eyes bugged out of her head when Bascomb mentioned the dungeon.

  “You don’t have to go with us,” he told her, witnessing her reaction.

  Jones unlocked Halverson’s and Reno’s cells. “Now we’re gonna have some fun.”

  Jones ushered the two of them out of their cells.

  “How did Brittany get infected with the plague?” Halverson asked Bascomb.

  “You brought her to the island that way,” answered Bascomb. “She must’ve gotten infected before she landed on the island. That’s the only explanation.”

  They headed down Broadway, hung a left onto the aisle in front of B Block, then hung another left on Sunrise Alley to the staircase that led to the dungeon.

  Bascomb withdrew a dark brown bag of M&Ms out of his pocket and began popping the brightly colored chocolate candies into his mouth one at a time, looking like he was going to a movie. A round yellow candy, then a green one, then a red one . . .

  Halverson had no desire to visit the dungeon. Every time anyone mentioned it, the residents clammed up and looked terrified. He followed Bascomb into
the stairwell.

  Dank and dimly lit, the staircase seemed chillier than the rest of the prison, decided Halverson as he descended the steps, Reno behind him.

  “I get the impression Bascomb is trying to tell us something,” Halverson told Reno.

  “That we’re gonna die soon?” said Reno.

  “It looks that way.”

  “How have you guys existed so long with all that bad luck you’ve got?” said Jones, gun in hand, descending the steps behind Reno.

  They reached the dungeon. Like a Vegas casino, the capacious room had a cathedral ceiling, no windows, and little light. The resemblance ended there. In the middle of the starkly decorated room, a large machine loomed.

  The machine itself didn’t take up much room. In fact, Halverson wondered why such a large room was needed for a single machine.

  The room had a stone floor and a row of ten uncomfortable-looking deal chairs that stood facing the machine. Seats for the audience, decided Halverson. He heard water dripping.

  When he scanned the room, he realized the copper pipes inside the room were situated outside of the cement walls in lieu of behind them and that, indeed, a joint connecting two of the pipes was leaking drops of water that were pinging sporadically onto the floor.

  “Even the sound effects are creeping me out here,” said Reno.

  “They should shoot the interior decorator,” said Halverson.

  “Haven’t you guys ever heard of plumbers?” Reno asked Bascomb and his spear-carriers.

  “Nobody stays here long,” answered Bascomb. “What difference does it make if the floor’s wet?”

  Bascomb and the rest of them gathered around the machine like they were paying homage to it.

  As far as machines went, it was nothing special, decided Halverson. It had a butcher-block table about eight feet long, four feet wide, and two inches thick. At the moment, a male twentysomething Chinese ghoul was lying supine on the tabletop, his wrists and ankles manacled to the table. An inch-wide leather strap collared the ghoul’s throat and kept the creature’s head pinned to the tabletop.

  “Here’s our version of Old Sparky,” said Bascomb.

  “How many seconds did it take you to think this gizmo up?” said Reno, unimpressed by the machine.