by Jack Wallen
While he continued with the mental equations, the Screamer punished the trunk of the Mercedes.
“Jamal, if you’ve got something working in that beautiful mind of yours, now would be a good time!”
I reached up to downshift for a sharp turn. My hand slipped and bumped up against the radio power button. The final strains of a crunchy metal number sucker-punched the cheap speakers.
You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio…your personal soundtrack…to the end of the world. That was System of a Down and “Power Struggle”.
“Fuck,” I screamed. “The last thing I need now is irony. Jamal…please.”
Sometimes I feel like the Zero Day Collective have managed to snake a hand up my trousers and cup my testicles. They squeeze and release. Squeeze and release.
The DJ continued on. As hard as it was, I had no choice but to tune him out.
“You need to reach at least seventy-five and take a ninety degree left turn. This assumes the zombie was right-handed when he was alive.”
There was no reason to question Jamal’s logic. His math never failed.
At some point, however, their grip will fail and my balls will finally hang free again.
I punched the gas and gripped the wheel until my knuckles paled to white.
The Screamer punched his arm through the glass…his right arm.
When they do, I will turn…
We reached an intersection just as the old rust-bucket hit seventy-five. I cut the wheel hard to the left.
And cast them aside as if they were yesterday’s fetid meat.
The Screamer flew from the car and crashed down onto the pavement. Without a second thought, I punched the gas and drove the car fast and furious away.
“Holy cow,” Jamal sighed. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“What do you mean? You did your whole calculating thing…that never fails.”
Jamal fell silent. This wasn’t a moment for silence.
“What are you not telling me, Jamal?”
“It’s just that…the law of averages states that at some point I am going to fail. The more often you depend on me, the more likely it will happen. What if my calculations were wrong? What if that zombie didn’t get tossed from the car and managed to climb his way in and take your life? You see how much of a struggle that is? When we were in grad school, saving your ass only risked dismissal from college. Now? We’re talking life and death…and not just for me and you, for the whole of humanity. That’s how important you are, B.”
I snatched his trembling hand and pulled it to my lips. After a long, meaningful kiss, I said, “We are that important, Jamal. I can’t do this…whatever it is…without you. We’ve always been, and always will be, a team.”
…and we cannot survive this nightmare alone. Yeah, that means you might have to forgive your family members, embrace someone who doesn’t think like you, or even cross the boundaries of color or sexuality so many of you have set in place. We have to come together as one, or we will fail as individuals.
I glanced at the radio, to Jamal, and back to the radio. He got the hint and laughed.
“Damn it, I love you, Bethany.”
“And I love you, Jamal. Now…can we get home and make some Obliterators?”
“Hells yeah, we can.”
nineteen | to life, l’chaim
Hitomi leaned into the window and glanced around the room. Each of the men and women had stood and were staring, glassy-eyed, into some pale nowhere. “What are they doing?”
“Waiting,” Faddig whispered softly. “Waiting to be commanded.”
“So elegant, Commander.”
Faddig slipped a hand around Hitomi’s tiny waist. “Isn’t it? Each of them belong to me now. I could have them do anything I so desire. Should I wish, they would turn on one another and fight to the death. Of course, I have much more important plans for this little group.” Faddig turned to Hitomi. “But first, we need more.”
Hitomi’s mouth dropped open. “How do you propose…”
Faddig clasped Hitomi around the throat and squeezed.
“It is not mine to propose. It is mine to command. I spoke it, therefore it will be so…otherwise hell will spill forth upon the landscape of your mind and you’ll never hold a coherent thought again. How’s that for a proposal?”
Hitomi nodded and grabbed a telephone receiver. She waited for the call to be answered. “This is Kira Hitomi. Yes, from biology. We need to arrange for another pick-up of human subjects. Do not question why, just make it happen.”
She disconnected the call and gave a curt nod to Faddig.
“Prepare the injection squid for another dosing. But first, I must…” Faddig smiled. “Make a small donation.”
Faddig exited the room as Hitomi busied herself at the command station.
*
Back in his office, Faddig retrieved his SAT phone from the overturned desk. His curiosity forced his hand. He dialed a number and pressed the device to his head. After five rings, the soldier’s voice answered, “Sir?”
“SITREP.”
“Sir, we are in pursuit.”
“Location?”
“Utah, sir.”
Faddig’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. “They’re heading to New Salt Lake City,” he whispered.
“Sir?”
“Continue as planned. When they’ve reached their destination, call me─and only me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Faddig disconnected the call and reclined in his chair. When he spoke, his voice was near silence, distant. “Smart move, Miss Nitshimi. You stayed put, knowing I’d assume you’d never remain. Well, my dear…you want to be a ghost, I can make that happen.”
His gaze shifted to the laptop on the floor and his lungs released a heavy sigh. As he returned the desk to its natural position, he shook his head. “This is not going to go over well.”
With the desk in place, he retrieved the laptop and found it had survived the wreckage. Faddig placed the machine on the desktop and clicked on the video chat icon. When the application opened, he hovered the cursor over the Four Horsemen connection. “And thus I clothe my naked villainy with odd old ends stol’n out of holy writ; and seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”
He clicked the connection. The digital ring held an ominous tone, like a hell-born choir chiming a death knell for all who listened. After the seventh ring, the connection was made. The Four Horsemen sat in a row, staring down their smug noses at the camera.
“Is Gerrand on his way to us?” the first horseman asked.
Faddig remained silent.
The female horseman leaned in toward the camera. “Commander Faddig, have you betrayed our order?”
Faddig placed the palms of his hands on the desk. When he spoke, his words seeped out slowly, pointedly. “I have devised a better plan.”
The horsemen glanced at one another and then back to the camera. The elder statesman spoke up. “You understand the consequences of betraying our orders, correct?”
Faddig nodded. “What if I told you Gerrand could lead us directly to Bethany Nitshimi?”
The horsemen leaned into one another and whispered. They finally broke apart, the heaviest of the quartet turning to speak. “We are intrigued. Explain.”
“Gerrand is being transported by the Zombie Response Team. I have deployed a detail to follow. Once they arrive at their destination, I’ll have the exact location of Nitshimi and we can finally extract her.”
One of the horsemen reached toward the camera and the connection fell to silence. The foursome spoke, with muted passion, among themselves. The discussion seemed to grow heated and finally abate.
“This plan seems sound,” the heavy-set male said. “However, upon arrival, the detail is to report to us and not you.”
Silence.
“Commander Faddig,” the woman barked. “Is that clear?”
Faddig nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The connection broke. Faddig stared at the bla
ck screen, grinding his teeth and breathing deep the air of frustration.
He stood, this time allowing the desk to remain on all fours. Faddig exited his office and made his way back to the unmarked car. He placed his hand against the security pad and the door hissed open. Dr. Brandt was bent over a microscope, focused so tightly on his work he failed to hear Faddig enter.
“The first injections seem to have taken,” Faddig snapped sharply.
Startled, Dr. Brandt stood quickly and nearly sent the microscope tumbling to its demise. “How can you know the serum was not rejected? The incubation period could not possibly have elapsed.”
Faddig rolled his shirt sleeves up and hopped onto the table. Dr. Brandt stared quizzically.
“What?” Faddig snapped.
“I’m very sorry, sir, you need to let more time pass before…”
“I’ll decide how much time I need. Start siphoning before you become my next experiment.”
Brandt nodded nervously and set about preparing to withdraw blood. “Understand, sir, I do this under protest.”
“I don’t care why or how you do this…” Faddig voice rose to a shout. “…just that you do! Very shortly another delivery of livestock will arrive, and we need the Cradle prepared for them. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Brandt rolled a tray to the side of the bed, connected the picc line to Faddig, and inserted the draining tube. A rush of dull, brownish scarlet flowed free and gravity took hold to carry it into an IV bag.
Faddig nodded. “To life, l’chaim.”
Brandt shook his head as he carefully lowered Faddig to the table. “You’re going to be dizzy and a bit weak, sir.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Faddig slurred. “So long as we have everything we need to complete the Cradle and send those motherfucking Subjects on their way to meet Bethany…” Faddig’s voice drifted off and his eyes rolled up into his head.
twenty | the arrival
The Mercedes stopped just outside our makeshift headquarters of New Salt Lake City gate. A dust-bowl cloud wafted into the air around us.
“We could use some rain,” I said aloud.
“It’s the desert, B. Rain is nothing but a metaphor for man’s utter hopelessness.”
I tossed a sidelong glance toward Jamal. “When did you become such a poet?”
“Shoo, girl…I’s a poet of the skreet.”
A blanket of silence drifted over us, just before we both broke out into gales of laughter. When the laugh-a-thon finally ended, we stepped out of the car, backpacks shouldered.
“I dream of a day when we can leave our house with the doors unlocked and the windows up.” Jamal spoke in a dreamy fashion.
“If wishes were horses,” I started.
“Beggars would ride. Speaking of deserts,” Jamal said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “My skin is way too sensitive for life on Mercury.”
“Suck it up, Buttercup.”
The second we arrived at HQ, I enlisted the help of Rizzo and Echo to haul the remainder of the Electro Shack bounty in. On our way out, we grabbed two shopping carts and made our way back to the gate.
Echo glanced up at me, a wide grin spread across her face. “Did you bring me anything?”
I smirked. “Only the chance to live another day.”
We left the carts and climbed. One by one, we filled the backpacks, climbed, filled the carts, returned to the car, and repeated the process until the Mercedes was empty.
“Echo,” Rizzo called out. “Let’s hang out at the wall.”
“And do what?” I asked, a tinge of parent in my voice.
“What do you think? Keep watch.”
Jamal groaned his discordance with the idea.
I shrugged. “Only if you remain on this side. It’s not safe out there.”
“We know, B.” answered Echo. “We’ll be okay, promise.”
“How far can I really trust the promise of a teenage girl?”
Echo smiled innocently. “Good point. We’ll stay on this side of the wall…pinky swear.” She held up her hand, pinky jutting out for me to accept. All of a sudden I was back in junior high school, about to promise I’d hack into the school network and give my best friend a bit of extra credit in Calculus.
“Fine.” I capitulated and offered up the youthful salute. “But the first sign of anything, trouble or not, you come back.”
Rizzo and Echo nodded and then bolted back to the gate.
Jamal and I grabbed the shopping carts and wheeled them away. We’d managed to just cross the street when Echo’s voice bounced and danced from behind.
“Bethany,” she called, “someone’s coming!”
I turned to Jamal. I could feel fear flush through my system like an icy bath. “Go get Morgan and Josh, and bring them back packing.”
Jamal rushed off with a nod. I turned and sped back to the wall and my girls. As I ran, I shot my hands in the air and waved to garner the attention of Echo and Rizzo. I held my tongue, not wanting to bring any unwarranted attention from outsiders…in case they were the enemy.
Enemy.
The word shocked my brain and kicked my heart.
There were so many goddamn enemies. Which one was about to knock down our door?
I practically jumped at the wall and climbed with the skill and speed of a chimp. My grip and agility seemed far more impressive than I thought possible. When I reached the top, I tossed my arms over to secure my position─caught between Echo and Rizzo.
“Who is it?” Rizzo asked quietly.
“No idea. Either of you have goggles?”
“Sorry, B.” Echo answered.
I stared down at a bus…much of which was blurred by a wafting cloud of dust-bowl powder. “There’s writing on the side. Can either of you make it out?”
“No,” they said in unison.
Please let this be them, I thought. We can’t handle being attacked from every side.
The bus turned menacingly toward the gate.
“Son of a bitch.” Echo’s voice fell to sotto. I wanted to reprimand her for the language, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, I wasn’t about to be that parent.
Next stop─soccer mom.
O. M. G.
I pimp-slapped the thought from my mind to jolt me back into the moment.
The bus had come to a stop…right in front of the gate. As the dust settled, I couldn’t see the writing, couldn’t discern who we were about to face down.
Friend or foe?
Below, I could hear multiple someones climbing the gate. I turned to glance back. Jamal, Morgan, and Josh. The cavalry had arrived.
I turned my attention back to the bus. A man in uniform exited. Tall, slender, and stick-straight. He was followed by a shorter, equally slender man, with dark, curly hair.
Morgan was the first to reach the top. She grabbed the edge and pulled herself up so she could glance over. As soon as she did, she shouted down.
“Reginald Rondo, you son of a bitch. I have never been so happy to see your brutally ugly face.”
Josh huffed and puffed his way to Morgan’s side. “Hey, handsome. Is that a Glock in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”
The man on the ground waved upwards and shouted, “I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be here.”
I glanced over to Morgan. “Am I detecting a hint of subtext to his voice I don’t want to know about?”
Josh laughed. “We’re just fucking with each other. We three go way back. Rondo’s good people. You can trust that man with the life of your mother and your unborn children.”
Rondo called up. “You guys gonna open up and let us through?”
“No can do, Rondo. This gate opens for no one. You guys gotta make the climb.”
“You heard the woman. Rise, shine, and climb, knuckleheads,” Rondo shouted.
The soldiers spilled from the bus, each carrying full packs and gear. In a single wave, they climbed. Rondo, however, stood his ground until t
he shorter man eased his way onto the wall and started the ascent.
“That must be Gerrand,” Morgan pointed.
The Zombie Response Team ascended the wall like spiders climbing a web. We made our way back down to give the professionals room. They descended as quickly as they rose, like the wall was little more than a playground.
The whole of the moment had my nerves screaming beneath my flesh. Every synapse in my system fired simultaneously. Buried in my gut, a long-lost feeling sprang to life.
Hope.
I swallowed against a thick lump of tension. Jamal grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“I feel like I’m about to meet the Stephens,” Jamal whispered.
“Hawking and Jobs?” I asked.
“You know me too well, B.”
“I know you just right, J.”
Another squeeze.
The soldiers─if they were to be called that─hopped to the ground, one by one. The man Morgan called Rondo hung back to keep the much slower Gerrand climbing with some semblance of security.
When the last two finally reached the ground, Gerrand turned, offered his hand, and spoke in a perfectly beautiful British accent. “I’m Dr. Richard Gerrand. I have what you need to fight the Mengele Virus.”
I grasped Gerrand’s hand and gave it a shake. “We’re glad to have you here.”
Rondo stepped into the moment. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Ms. Nitshimi. I have to say, I’ve witnessed Fry in action…it’s like watching fireworks for the first time.”
“Fry?” I asked.
Gerrand glanced over both shoulders, his eyes filled with paranoia. “Would you mind if we spoke somewhere with a bit more….privacy?”
Morgan cut across us and addressed Rondo. “Were you followed?”
“No, ma’am.”
Josh turned up the heat with his bear of a voice. “Are you sure?”
Again Rondo nodded. “We were cautious. No one followed.”
Rizzo approached. “B, if you don’t mind, Echo and I are going to keep watch.”
I nodded and mouthed Thank you.
