by Jack Wallen
That was it. There was no cure…just the mad ramblings of a lunatic. I wanted to toss the laptop out a window and scream loud enough to shame the screams of the zombies below. Everyone stared at me as disappointment registered on each face, but none so much as mine.
“I don’t understand.” Jean spoke the words that were rattling around in all our heads. “I thought that file contained the cure for the virus. We had all –”
“I know, I know! Every last hope for the world’s survival rested in the contents of that file. Well, it turns out the world was just given the finger from the grave,” I spat out the words along with my anger.
“What do we do now?” Sally was still shaken by the mysterious stranger, and was near a mental and physical break down.
What I most wanted to say was that we should all give in and join the zombie party; toss fuck-all to the wind and let the screamer in the next room turn us all into blathering, raging idiots, hell-bent on cranium diving until the end of the end finally draws the curtain on this farce. But that’s not what this crew needs. We were staring at a tipping point and I wasn’t about to let everything, or anything, fail.
“What we do is start from square one. We still have all of Dr. Godwin’s research, which has to lead us somewhere. Somewhere inside his work, there has to be some form of a cure. We find that and our first priority is to help Susan. When Susan is cured, we can focus on the bigger picture.” My speech wasn’t highlight-reel worthy, but it conveyed the message.
“And what do we do about our mystery man?” Gunther reminded me of that which I did not want to be reminded.
I stood, staring at a very hospital-beige wall for what seemed like an eternity, like my mind had locked up. I expected to snap out of my fugue and see everyone either dead or gone. Instead, when I managed to regain my senses, they were still just staring back at me, anxiously awaiting my next words.
“We have two choices. We beat the son of a bitch at his own game, or we let loose the dogs of war and let them, or actually it, take care of our problem.” I didn’t even get the chance to mull the idea over before it leaped out of my mouth, but I liked where it was going.
“What are you saying, Bethany?” Jean said, a bit slow to catch on.
“I know exactly what she’s saying and she’s crazy.” Sally, on the other hand, knew precisely the madness I was eschewing, and she wasn’t terribly keen on the plan.
What I want to do is let loose our screamer, barricade ourselves in Susan’s room, and hope the screamer can track down our phantom stranger and remove his brain matter before he manages to take us down one by one. It is a truly mad plan, I knew that as soon as it graced conscious thought, but it could work.
“We knocked the thing out once before, we could do it again,” I pled my case with the group.
“And what if the zombie doesn’t bother with the fucker and bolts to join his brothers and sisters in the outside world?” Sally, as always, was the voice of reason.
“That man said he was going to infect Sally. How? Is it possible he knows more about the virus than we do? Could he help us find a cure? We don’t know the answer those questions, but he might. We need him alive until we know for sure.”
Gunther was right, of course. The only logical option was to somehow capture the stranger and question him. We could always threaten to turn the tables and infect him, Jacob style. We needed a plan.
And as if on cue, the zombie began roaring its disapproval again. The sound entered our ear canals and penetrated every living cell of our bodies, making each of us want to puncture both ear drums. There was no barrier to entry, as if a switch was flipped and our bodies went from completely relaxed to fully rigid.
As the screaming echoed off the walls of the room, they planted the seed of an idea that quickly took root and sprouted the branches of clear thought. The gang saw the idea cross my face and turned as if to collectively say “well?”
Jean reached for a loaded hypo he was about to use on the zombie next door and I put my hand up to stop him before his feet to even receive the impulse to move.
“Let it scream.” The idea was made whole and was boosted by a renewed confidence such that I was able to let everyone else in on the plan.
“The monster will surely draw the attention of our friend, who will have to show up in order to silence the screaming. When he shows up –”
“We take him down,” Gunther finished my thought with enough extra emphasis to put a smile on everyone’s face.
The monster next door let out his howl of approval, reminding us that we would have to suffer through the aural attack. This might well be the toughest challenge we have yet had to face. When the beast released another raging assault on my hearing I wanted nothing more than to waltz into the undead chamber and blow a hole in its head. But that beast was, for the moment, quite valuable to us.
While the zombie was shrieking its siren song to the stranger, I took it upon myself to gather everything I needed to set up shop in Susan’s room. With the file cracked, I could leave the laptop online so I could do all of my work remotely. The pressing issue was the Obliterator. We have to get supplies soon or we’ll never make it. The vending machines are not going to last forever…and I know the human body cannot sustain itself on junk. So I have to focus every ounce of energy I have on finishing the only weapon we know will be able to protect us from the undead scourge.
In the meantime, we set up a watch to look out for our unfriendly assailant. The system was simple; plant Gunther in the room with the screamer (along with some damn good earplugs) and the minute the stranger makes an attempt to silence the beast, we text Gunther who then leaps out and pumps the stranger full of the same love potion that was previously keeping the zombie in a tranquil state.
The plan was set, all we had to do was wait it out. During that waiting period my goal is to finish the Obliterator, so we can test it on a living dead subject. I realize the plan is a bit of a failed congruence, but it’s the best we have at the moment.
Aren’t you so excited?
Blog entry 12/8/20105 1:05 am
The infernal howling from the other room is preventing sleep on any level. No one has managed to get even the slightest hint of a nap. The zombie hasn’t given us a moment of peace since it awoke. We debated changing tactics but ultimately decided this is still the best plan.
It’s my watch now. Of course, I never really stopped watching. The Obliterator is ready for testing, so the only thing I can do for the moment is watch and write.
The light in Susan’s room is out, only the dim glow of the laptop penetrating the gloom. We need to hide under the cover of shadow so the stranger won’t suspect anything. After waiting as long as we have, I am beginning to wonder if the stranger has other, better plans than to silence a trapped screamer.
Just as the zombie must have taken a breath to unleash another storm of screams, a rattling sound drifted down from the ceiling. Someone, and I can guess who, is in the ceiling above us. I positioned myself so it looks as if I am sleeping, but I still have the whole room in my field of vision. The light of the computer screen is casting an eerie glow throughout the room, giving me just enough light to take a shot.
My breath was coming in shallow bursts, my pulse racing. The shit was about to go down. The rattling ceased and then a ceiling tile started to slide to the side. Ever so slowly a pair of legs began to lower down to the floor. As soon as the feet hit tile I acted.
“Don’t move mother fucker or I will –”
The man turned my way, preparing to jump me. I pulled the trigger. The blast from the gun was blinding in the darkness of the room and was followed by a scream nearly shaming that of the monster next door. The frightened screams of Jean and Sally joined in the symphony.
“Sally, get the lights!”
When the lights popped on the man covered his face with the arm not holding his thigh. He screamed again, but this time out of anger, not pain.
“You fucking bitch!”
Things were getting scary, fast. We now had a big unknown in our midst who could be nothing more than a psycho, but I wasn’t about to take my chances. We have to tread very carefully at the moment since everything could so easily spiral out of control. We have to take this one crisis at a time, or else we threaten corruption of what precious little control and safety we’ve built for ourselves. We are not many and we grow weaker by the day. But as it would happen, a tiny crack in the fabric of fate has opened up to allow a wisp of hope to seep in.
As anyone reading this may know, nothing is easy. The world has upended and the righting will take much time and even much more effort. We cannot give up, we cannot give in.
I motioned for Sally to follow me. “It’s time to test this device.”
Sally’s eyes grew heavy and the corners of her mouth drooped to the ground. I knew what she was thinking. I had to convince her otherwise.
“I know you’re exhausted, but I really need your help. The thing cannot get away. All you have to do is write some notes for me. That’s all. And as soon as we’re done, we’re out and back to sleep.” I made eye contact with her and placed my hand on her shoulder so there would be no mistaking my sincerity. She nodded her approval and we opened the door to the room holding the undead monster captive.
The screamer was still tightly lashed to the metal table. The sound in the room was horrible, like metal fingernails scraping on chalkboards forged in Hell. I wanted to run far away, but I knew this was our only hope.
“Sally, I’m going to start up the device,” I yelled over the monstrous cacophony. “As I change the frequency and oscillation, I’ll read the numbers off to you. I want you to write the numbers down. When I find the right combination, take note.”
“How will we know you’ve found the right combination?” Sally’s question was legitimate.
“Trust me, we’ll know.”
I handed Sally a hypo and instructed her to inject it into the screamer as soon as we found the right combination. She nervously accepted the duty, but I was afraid the woman would come undone right before me.
As soon as Sally gave me the sign she was ready, I fired up the device. A soft humming sound filled the room. I started with a 75 hertz tone, knowing the sound would be far too low, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Once 75 hertz was established I kicked in the oscillations at 1 radian per second.
The creature responded with the same howling sounds.
“It’s not doing anything!” Sally responded with the obvious.
I decided to throw caution to the wind and kicked the settings up to 500 hertz and 10 radians per second.
The noise was not much more than a soft thumping hum. The response from the zombie? Nothing.
1,500 hertz at 20 radians per second.
Nothing.
10,000 hertz at 50 radians per second.
The zombie was still mercilessly screeching; the look in its dead eyes sent shivers of fear across my skin.
15,000 hertz at 50 radians per second.
The sound was becoming almost painful, but finally we were rewarded with a change in the monster’s behavior.
“Look at it. Oh, my God, Bethany, what is it –?”
“The thing is afraid. This is it, Sally. Circle those numbers.”
The Obliterator hit the right frequency-to-oscillation ratio and the zombie went silent. The thing’s face turned to me and its jaw started chattering. The sound of the teeth clacking together was an erratic castanet attempting some strange, out-of-sync time signature that fit with no music I had ever heard. The sick-white eyes went from complete rage to absolute fear within a heartbeat. I waved my hand in front of the zombie’s face, only to witness it flinch. Teeth chattered faster and harder; surely they would start shattering, one by one.
I thought for sure the zombie was going to start weeping and begging me to silence the noise. Had I not known the destructive force these things are capable of, I might have actually allowed myself a moment of pity, but pity would never be a part of my emotional makeup towards these beasts. The only feeling I had for them was hatred. Hatred for the danger they posed to all living humans, and hatred for what they represented. No matter how much fear this thing displayed, I still wanted to crush its head.
Sally circled the correct combination and then sent the hypo to the hilt in the beast’s stomach. The monster’s chattering teeth slowed and finally stopped altogether as Sally and I stared at the now sleeping zombie in silent relief. We knew that, at any moment, everything could turn and it would be us on the table and the zombies having their way, or their dinner. But for that one moment all was right in our world. We had captured a threatening stranger, we had possession of a working Obliterator, and now we could finally get some much needed sleep.
Sally and I backed out of the room and returned to Susan’s room to inform our companions of the good news. Jean had patched up the stranger’s leg. Seeing Jean’s handiwork and realizing what I had done put a knot in my stomach. As if it wasn’t enough to be dealing with teeth gnashing zombies, I now have to face the guilt of shooting a man that, most likely, had been about to kill me. Me and my conscience needed to have a serious talk.
Jean gave the stranger enough of something to relieve the pain and knock him out. That, in turn, ensured that we could all finally get some peaceable rest. As with every tomorrow, it seems, the day facing us will be long and hard.
And with that I say, good fucking night.
Blog Entry 12/8/2015 1:16 PM
I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it was to sleep through the entire night – and morning – and not be awakened by screaming, crashing, moaning, or anything zombie related. Even our stranger slept through without so much as a peep. Thanks to the ever-vigilant Jean, both of our pets were given a booster dose of “dream” at some point in the early AM.
When I woke, Jean was staring at one of Dr. Godwin’s notebooks. He was so engrossed he didn’t see or even sense me approaching.
“Morning.” My words, though softly spoken, startled the doctor.
“The man was a genius. It’s a shame what happened to him.” Jean was already romanticizing Dr. Godwin. Had he been there to witness what went down, seen the man manipulate and use Jacob the way he did, he might have a very different opinion.
“It truly amazes me that this man created a virus which he knew had no cure. What kind of human being could do such a thing? What kind of scientist could use such intelligence for such a destructive purpose?” Jean surprised me by changing his tune without prompting.
I placed a reassuring hand on Jean’s shoulder; he seemed as if he was about to cave in on himself. As soon as he felt my touch his tension eased. The human touch has a remarkable and utterly profound effect. It was a moment I will never forget. God, I could use more moments like that.
“What are the chances you could perform a miracle and find a cure hidden somewhere in those notes?” It was a fairly safe assumption the answer to the question was “zero”, but I had to ask.
“Bethany, have you gone over the file again? Reread the words. You are a master of encryption, maybe there was a hidden meaning tucked somewhere within the writing.”
My brain shifted a bit, back-peddled. I hadn’t actually thought that the words within the file could have contained some deeper meaning. Jean was right, Hitler’s Nazi army was obsessed with encryption; it makes perfect sense that they would encrypt what was hidden beneath the encryption. Mengele could have very well tucked away clues for the cure somewhere within his very words. It could have been staring me right in the face and I missed it.
“I won’t give up on Godwin’s notes, if you won’t give up on that file. Godwin had some incredible ideas, most of which were nothing mo
re than random scrawls that only someone of his intellect could decipher. But maybe I could manage to piece some of the thoughts together into a cohesive whole.”
Jean’s voice grew more and more excited as he spoke. It was good to see the man show a measure of confidence, a commodity hard to come by at the moment. Confidence. When it would be easy to give up and retreat within yourself, being around another living human who could summon up a bit of positive energy does plenty to feed the soul. It was just what I needed; that and a good meal. What I wouldn’t do for a Pad Thai or spicy paneer dish. Of course we are in Paris and the only food I could think of to define the Parisian culture was bread and cheese.
Food. It was time. Eating had to take a priority over all else. And even though everyone would object, I was the most obvious choice to lead the charge.
“The file’s been cracked, I’m now as dispensable as the next redhead. Besides, I’m the only one who could fix the Obliterator, should it crap out.” They knew I was right and didn’t offer as much as a peep when I made the announcement.
The plan was for Gunther and me to set out in search of food, while Jean continued work on Godwin’s notes. Sally would ensure the prisoner didn’t move. Prisoner. The word left a bad taste in my mouth. Even though the man had threatened both me and Sally, it went against every fiber of my being to hold a human being against their will. At least it once did. Now? Is the word humane even still relevant? Holding a prisoner seems so trivial in the face of a virus that has managed to thin the world’s population of the living by probably eighty percent. I would venture to say the word humane now only applies to pulling the trigger when you know someone you care about has been infected and you want to put them out of their misery.
Before leaving, I informed Jean we would be chatting with our new friend, so it would be helpful if the man was awake and coherent. Jean assured me that he would be ready and willing. How he knew that, I don’t really care to know.
