I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  When his feet hit the ground, Dunham slowed himself and came to a stop. He then turned and slid the handle back to our side. Michelle, Jean and I all stared at one another. With nothing more than a roll of her eyes, Michelle grabbed the handle and took off. I have to hand it to the girl, she made it look easy.

  When the handle returned, I wasted no time and took my turn. The rush I had when my feet no longer had solid ground beneath them was incredible. For just a split second everything froze and I was a kid again, swinging in the air or jumping off (what we thought were) cliffs into the cold waters of the nearest lake. When my feet landed I wanted to scream with delight. I knew better. Instead I lifted my arms into the international sign of ‘victory’ and followed up by sliding the handle back over to Jean.

  When we were all gathered on top of the UN building everything hit home. We were about to go up against the group that had funded the apocalypse. That’s right, Armageddon is brought to you by your local government, our tax dollars hard at work. Going all militant protector seemed like a good idea, but one that would have to wait.

  Dunham had the first grenade in his hand before he took off for the intake vent, which was a sizable aluminum duct that stuck out of the roof at a right angle. Military Man gave me ‘the look’, I nodded my approval, and he pulled the pin, then dropped the grenade into the hole. Just as the metallic clanking of the mini-bomb subsided, the blast occurred.

  “Go!” Dunham barked, and took off toward the only door on the roof. It all seemed too easy, too perfect. And, as luck would have it, the door was unlocked. One by one, we followed Dunham into the stairwell and started making our way down into the glow of the red emergency lights.

  “How far down do we need to go?” Michelle asked.

  “Until we hear voices.”

  Before we could reach the next landing an alarm sounded. The sound sent shock waves from my brain to my heart. The electronic bleating could only mean trouble – but we had to continue on.

  When we reached the landing Dunham indicated for us to enter the floor. He slammed his back up against the metal of the door and put his ear against the vertical pane. I wasn’t sure how much good it would do to try to listen for the muted sounds of voices over the alarm, but he seemed to be satisfied and nodded for us to go.

  Dunham pulled the door wide open and stood out of the way. A greenish fog rolled out from the room. I couldn’t understand why Dunham stood to the side, until the fog cleared. On the other side of the door were armed men wearing gas masks, their guns pointing directly at us.

  “Freeze!” a tinny, muted voice said from under one of the masks.

  That didn’t set well with me so, against a moral code I abandoned weeks ago, I pulled out a gun and opened fire. My rattling shots were joined by Dunham’s and Michelle’s. The masked soldiers went down without a fight. With our way cleared, we continued on, into the heart of an unknown and green-tinted darkness.

  “What the fuck are we to do next?” I whispered loudly enough for Dunham to hear.

  “Our best bet is to procure a hostage and convince them to tell us where Burgess is. We need to locate that man in order to gain any leverage,” Dunham whispered back and waved us on. The green gas cloud somewhat cloaked our approach, and it was obvious from the surrounding screams and pleas for help that the inhabitants of the building were frightened. Our orchestrated chaos, at the moment, was working. All we had to do was find the head honcho and we were, I hoped, home free.

  Dunham led us to a stairwell and we took it down a few levels, surmising that there was no way the leaders of this group were going to hide themselves on the top floors of a building like the UN. So we silently descended the stairs until we were on the ninth floor. Dunham cracked open the stairwell exit and motioned for us to follow.

  The floor was filled with the gas and blinking emergency lights. Obviously the ZDC had gone into some sort of lockdown and all of the inhabitants of the building had tucked themselves away from sight; there was no one around. Just as we entered the hall, a panicking woman tried to fly past us. Dunham grabbed her.

  “Where do we find John Burgess?” Duhnam demanded his voice rough, mean.

  The woman just looked on, her eyes bulging with fear.

  “I’ll ask you one last time. Where –“

  “There…through those double doors!” The poor woman gave in and dropped to the floor. Dunham chose to do nothing more with the poor woman and marched on.

  We continued down the main corridor until we arrived at a set of locked stainless steel double doors. Michelle looked at the door handles, turned to me, and I nodded. It took her less than a minute to pick the lock. Dunham opened the door, peeked in, and waved us on.

  When we entered, an overly-large man sat behind an overly-large, overly-expensive desk.

  “We’re looking for John Burgess,” Dunham barked.

  The fat man blinked a few times and leaned back in his chair. “And what if I told you he wasn’t here?”

  Dunham brought the end of his gun to the chest of the brave soul behind the desk. “I would say you are lying.”

  “What do you want?” the man said, his forehead beading with sweat.

  If I had to make a guess, I would say we’d found our mark.

  “What the fuck do you want?” the man repeated, standing now, causing his expensive leather chair to tumble to the ground.

  And then it hit me, we really didn’t know what we wanted. Yes, we wanted to do everything we could to take down the Zero Day Collective, but we really had no idea how. Did we use Burgess as leverage to get them to halt what they were doing? My brain raced around in an attempt to come up with a plan. And before I realized it, my mouth started commanding everyone’s attention.

  “What we want is for you to call a meeting of those that immediately report to you. Have them come to your office right away. And, let me make this very clear, if you so much as offer up the slightest warning that something is amiss, you will lose about fifteen pounds from your obese body in the form of your head. Am I clear?” My military-esque voice even surprised Dunham. I was good, damn it.

  Lard Ass immediately grabbed the receiver of his phone with his sweaty hand and dialed a number.

  “Get all level 2 operatives in my office immediately. No, don’t tell them why, just get them in here.” Burgess slammed down the receiver. “There, happy now?”

  Dunham instructed Burgess to pick up his chair, plant his doughy self down, and wait for the others to arrive. When they did arrive, they were in for a bit of a surprise.

  “You’ll never get away with this, you know. You’ll never make it out of this building alive,” Burgess said, his voice containing a strange level of assurance for someone with three guns staring point blank at his face.

  When the first of the level 2 operatives entered, Dunham waved them away from the door with his gun. They complied without a word. As each member entered, they were informed where to go and did so with obvious fear registering on the faces.

  “That’s it. That’s all of them,” Burgess finally spoke up.

  “Shut the door,” Dunham indicated to the last of the operatives, who complied.

  “What is the meaning of this?” one of the females protested.

  I took a moment to gather my thoughts. What I said next would most likely make or break our effort.

  “You have failed. We have the cure and the cure has been made public. You cannot stop what we have set in motion,” I began, but was interrupted by a low laughter coming from Burgess who was back to sitting at his desk.

  “Miss Nitshimi, what we set in motion began long before you, long before Jacob, long before Dr. Godwin had any knowledge of what was going on. And your precious little efforts will do no good to stop what we have started. In fact, what you have done fits in perfectly with our grand plan.” Burgess stood, ignoring the metal of Dunham’s rifle. “You see, the next phase of our plan required you in attendance. Since you decided to play the hero and bring yourself straight t
o us, a task that could have been quite a challenge has been made quite simple.”

  This was an ‘oh shit’ moment like I’d never experienced. Dunham started to take aim but was immediately dropped with a Taser. When that transpired, I turned to bolt, but was stopped when I heard a sparking sound, after which electrical spikes shot through my body.

  Epilogue

  “Professor, she’s awake.”

  “Keep her recorder on. I want all of this taken down for posterity.”

  Footsteps.

  “That will be all, Markus. If I need you I will call for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Hello, Miss Nitshimi. My name is Professor Danielle Joy Michaels. That name might not ring a bell, but maybe the name Senator Slaton might. That’s right, I had to do something to gain your trust. How’s my daughter doing? Dead I expect. Oh well, another casualty of war. She wasn’t actually my daughter. In fact, the only reason I knew of her was your handy blog. I’ve been watching you, watching out for you. Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. You’re safe. Nothing can harm you now. You’re under my care and I will not let anything happen to you or your baby.”

  Mumbling.

  “You’re still a bit out of it. Those Tasers are nasty little fellows aren’t they? Effective though. I would imagine you are probably wondering why you are here. We had to bring you here. Everything depended on your arrival. Mankind depended upon your safe passage to us. Truth be told, it’s all about your baby. Our real target is what’s growing inside of you. In about seven months or so, we’ll have it and you will no longer need concern yourself with saving the world.”

  Laughter.

  “So noble in your efforts. If only the remaining population of the world knew what you went through to try and save the human race. You did, you know. When the annals of time are scrawled out, when the Bible for the new world order is written, you will take the place as the new Virgin Mary and your baby, the new Jesus. Everything has worked out almost as if it were ordained from the beginning. Don’t worry though, we’ll keep you warm, feed you, and keep you safe from all danger.”

  Mumbling.

  Heels clicking.

  “Oh my dear, you must be tired. I’ll leave you to your rest. Good night, my zombie. We have a busy day of testing tomorrow. I’ll just turn off the light and leave you with this.”

  “Listen up, my sweet zombies, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but the world has become a very dangerous playground for the damned. That knocking at your door? That, my friends, is not the Avon Lady or a sweet Girl Scout plying delicious treats. That is death, plain and simple. It’s an ugly reality that we must now face. During my time on the air I have called upon you to stand up and fight, to help preserve the human race. And you have answered my call. The weight of mankind has been placed squarely on your shoulders and you have stood strong. You have persevered, fought, offered help when called for, and been a beacon for those in need.

  But every battle eventually comes to a most unforgettable end. On one side the winner of the battle will stand tall and proclaim to the heavens their victory. The other side of the battle knows nothing but darkness and rot.

  That battle, it seems, has finally reached the moat of Castle Zombie. The horde has raised their mighty fists together to break down the barriers between them and me. My time has come. But unlike so many, I will not cater to their undead desires. I will not add my own brain to the dinner menu. Instead I will follow the advice I have given so many over the last few weeks. But before I do, I have to ask that someone out there pick up the mantle of Zombie Radio so the airwaves never go silent. The people need a voice to bring them help, to bring them hope.

  And with that, and that timeless anthem ‘We Are The Champions’, by Queen, I bid you my final farewell.”

  Gunshot.

  Music.

  Muffled cries.

  Static.

  Silence.

  12/17/2015

  It didn’t take too long for Sam to realize everything had gone to shit. Contact was lost, there was no sign of anyone returning, and the undead were starting to become aware of his existence. It chapped his khakis, but it was time to bail. He turned over the vehicle, gave the radio one last shot, and when the radio only returned static, he punched the gas. The UN building shrank in the rearview mirror.

  “Fuck!” he yelled in frustration.

  The outcome of the mission was failure. Sam Leamy was unaccustomed to failure. After he had realized exactly what the ZDC had in store for his fellow man, the solider parted ways with his original orders, which were to take down Bethany Nitshimi. Sam Leamy had a new mission – to reclaim Bethany, Michelle, and Jean, and to shove the boot of vengeance so far up the Collective’s asses that they would never again sit upon their self-righteous throne.

  Sam’s new plan involved a few old friends of his that individually could take down an entire platoon of soldiers. Together, however, they could take down the world.

  The wheels of the BMW squealed and spewed smoke into the air. Sam wrenched the car around a corner. When he managed to straighten it out and get it back up to speed, he immediately slammed into an unsuspecting moaner, snapping its rotting body in half. Mad laughter pealed from the car as Sam sped off toward his destination. If one cared to listen closely enough, they could hear the solider singing Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Freebird at the top of his lungs.

  Is the world really ready for this?

  Die Zombie Die

  Jack Wallen

  Copyright 2011 by Jack Wallen

  PUBLISHED BY: AUTUMNAL PRESS

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously (unless otherwise noted). Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without express permission from the author. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  To the continued support, love, and encouragement of my rabid fans (living and undead), I dedicated this book to you. Without you I would be just another zombie in the war against ‘The Man’. Thank you. I love you all.

  Chapter 1

  New York City, Unknown Location

  November 15, 2015

  “Countdown to detonation T-Minus ten…”

  The disembodied voice offered up the heartless time-stamp to the end of mankind. My breath was in a holding pattern, even though I knew the reinforced walls and sealed vents of the building would protect us from the effects of Dr. Godwin’s Quantum Fission Generator. We were safe… for now.

  “…nine…”

  I couldn’t help but feel the hammer of guilt crushing my heart, blow by rhythmic blow.

  “…eight…”

  What had we done? Were we condemning the human race to a fate it couldn’t survive? When I came on board with the Zero Day Collective, I knew exactly what I was doing. I had a very specific plan. That plan didn’t, however, include the gut-wrenching fear brought about by an absolutely unknown entity which Dr. Lindsay Godwin had been coerced into creating: Coerced by a collective driven by desires man should never know.

  “…seven… Building containment protocol initiated.”

  Lindsay and I had salvation in the palms of our hands. We had been moments away from the greatest cure of all time – the cure for cancer. Nothing could have stopped us… until Lindsay was yanked away from me. Now, I stood waiting for a device to ignite and bring about the next evolution of the human race. What would that evolutionary step bring about?

  Metal blinds dropped down to block the windows of the building…further sealing my heart from my soul. A bitter-cold river flowed through my veins, making me want to run and hide. But more than anything, I wanted to rip the blinds from the window so I could bear witness t
o the Hell that was about to be loosed upon the planet.

  “…six… All staff return to quarters until further notice.”

  My feet wouldn’t budge. My stomach lurched. I was about to fold inside out.

  “…five…”

  A scream threatened to break through my lips. That scream had to remain silent. No matter how much my heart protested, it could not be known where my true motives lay. I had to walk among the Zero Day Collective as nothing more than one of the drones… a high-ranking drone, granted, with the singular, scientific purpose of ensuring nothing get in the way of bringing Bethany Nitshimi to term.

  “…four…”

  Her baby was the final key to what the Collective had termed “The Great Cleansing.” It was hard enough knowing this whole machine of hatred already had ties to Nazi Germany, but being a part of such a despicable endeavor made me want to cock a pistol and scramble the meat in my skull. A permanent, blissful slumber might well be the only route to peace now.

  “…three…”

  But, as I said, I had a plan. That plan would take some time to realize, but I would do everything I could to make sure the human race survived.

  “…two…”

  I only hoped the human race could forgive me.

  “…one…”

  A breath jerked into my lungs. I hoped it wasn’t my last.

  A pressure built up around the building, but not so much so that the walls threatened to cave in. A low hum seemed to emanate from every possible direction until my bowels threatened to release. And then, with an audible ‘pop’, everything was back to normal. A quiet peace washed over the room. Hope filled my heart, a hope that this whole disaster had been averted by an epic failure on the part of the device and the Collective. I breathed what I hoped was a sigh of much-needed relief.