by Jack Wallen
*
The second we entered HQ, I rushed back to check on Jacob. He was breathing sweetly in his crib. “My beautiful angel,” I whispered.
I silently pulled the door shut and made my way back to the War Room. Morgan, Josh, and Rondo were sharing a raucous laugh. Gerrand sat near Jamal, in perfect silence. Jamal spotted me entering and visibly sighed. I stopped just past the entryway of the room and crossed my arms over my chest. “You wished to speak in private, Gerrand?”
He stood, his nose slightly elevated as if he might consider his station above ours by a notch. “I’m very sorry for being so presumptuous, Ms. Nitshimi. In a world such as ours, it’s nearly impossible to know who one can trust.”
I blinked against dry eyes and looked around the room. “I think the real question here is, can we trust you? After all, if I have my story correct, you are the one that set this avalanche in motion.”
A blanket of nervous quiet fell over the room. Gerrand closed his eyes; the corners of his mouth gave into gravity and pulled downward.
“You have to understand, Bethany…”
“I do understand. I know the whole story. You were coerced by Jonathan Burgess. Believe me, I get that. The duress the ZDC can put one under is an unyielding force. Don’t worry…we’ve all moved beyond pointing the finger of blame. All we care about is the solution. As to your statement? Everyone here…you can trust. Now, what is it you wanted to say?”
Gerrand took in a slow, steady breath and finally spoke with a measured and certain tone. “There is no cure for the Mengele Virus.”
My emotions overwhelmed me and I rushed the table. Both fists came down hard to create a thunderous noise. “No. You made it clear there was.”
The doctor held up his hands to me and shook his head. “Please, allow me to finish.”
I took in the room and spotted Rondo slowly nodding his head. Every muscle in my body eased up a bit.
“Continue,” I said, my tone sharper than I’d intended.
Gerrand nodded his head once. “Thank you. What I have created is a weapon and the means to prevent the infection from taking hold. If a zombie is injected with Fry, they will boil from within, destroyed almost instantly. If a human is infected, and immediately injected with the serum, the virus itself will become completely benign.”
Eyes and ears were all locked onto Gerrand.
“I promise you, Bethany, this works. This is the only weapon and preventative you’ll need.”
Possibilities chased one another through my mind. I could feel an endless spiral of questions forming. “Where is this bit of magic?”
Gerrand cast his gaze downward. “I used the last of it saving Rondo.”
“What the fuck?” Josh shouted.
“Funky Christ,” Jamal added.
“Wait,” Gerrand shouted. “I have the formula. I can re-create it in a matter of days.”
“Where is it?” I demanded.
Gerrand narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”
“The goddamn formula? I didn’t see you packing any bags over the fence, and I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave your formula in the bus. Or does your brilliance overshadow your common sense?”
Without responding, Gerrand started to unbutton his shirt.
“What the hell? Is this a fetish of yours?”
Gerrand continued silently unbuttoning his shirt. When he finally managed to slip it off his shoulders, I fully understood his odd behavior.
Scrawled all over his torso were formulae of every kind. Notes tattooed like the illustrated man gone horribly wrong…or punk…or post-ironic with a twist of metal.
“My formula. I did this to myself so the only way it could fall into the wrong hands was at my death.”
There were bits and pieces of the formula I recognized. As a whole, however, the thing was an elegant a piece of art. Graceful, wondrous.
“Brilliant,” I whispered as I traced a particular thread of math from the right side of his chest, across his ribs, and to his spine.
“The Arrhenius equation,” Jamal nearly shouted.
Every gaze darted to Jamal. He turned away from the human legal pad and said, “It’s the equation for temperature dependence of reaction rates. Sorry.”
Gerrand turned to Jamal. “You have a good eye, young man. I could use you in the lab.”
Jamal looked to me like a puppy about to get a treat. I smiled and nodded.
“Score,” Jamal whispered, and pumped his fist in the air.
I leaned over the table and addressed the doctor. “The only reason I trust you is thanks to a voice I’ve never met. If it weren’t for that DJ connecting these two dots together, you’d be dead on arrival.”
The room filled with a soup-thick tension. I held my gaze on Gerrand, he on mine.
Gerrand nodded. “I understand.”
The room breathed again.
“You, Morgan, and Josh put together a list of the things you need. Jamal and I have Obliterators to build.”
Before I could continue, Echo and Rizzo stormed into the room, gasping as if their lungs were about to collapse.
“They were followed,” Rizzo wheezed.
Rondo shook his head. “No. We were careful.”
Rizzo shot a murderous glance toward Rondo. “Then why in hell is there a black sedan parked outside the gate…looking through your shit?”
All color flushed from Rondo’s face. “That’s not possible,” he choked out.
“It is,” Echo spat. “This has the Zero Day Collective written all over it.”
Chaos and accusations erupted in the room. I shouted above the din to regain control. “We can only assume this means the Zero Day Collective knows our location. With that on the table, we have no choice but to modify our plan. We’re going to play both the bad guys against one another. Gerrand, get busy with Fry. Jamal, we’re skipping the Obliterators and going with your original idea.”
Jamal’s face went slack; his chest heaved in a deep, rattling breath. “Fuck,” he sighed slowly.
“What about us?” Rizzo stood, rock solid and proud, in the door frame.
“You and Echo head back to the wall and keep an eye on those men. If they attempt to climb the fence…do something about it.”
A puckish gleam cut across Rizzo’s face.
“Use discretion, Rizzo,” I added.
A fraction of joy spilled away from Rizzo before she and Echo departed.
I grabbed Rondo by the arm. “We’re going to need you and your men very soon. In the meantime, keep Gerrand safe at all costs.”
Rondo nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The three groups went their separate ways. The remaining members of the Zombie Response Team were ordered by Morgan to stand watch over the house and, especially, Jacob. Jamal and I scrambled back to his lab and began the process of building a device to replicate the signal produced by Jacob’s implant. He and I were now on lock-down until the hardware was completed.
As soon as our asses hit chairs, we went to work on the device.
“Why do I feel like it’s doomsday all over again? And I don’t mean the Rhona Mitra film.”
Jamal looked up from the work before him and smiled. “Because the heart of darkness has arrived and it is now or never.”
“Jamal, you are a cliché machine.” I smiled. “I love you for that.”
He returned the gesture. “If we die now, at least I do so knowing I have the love of the one woman I couldn’t possibly live without.”
“Rhona Mitra?” I flipped Jamal off. It was out of character, so it had the added effect of surprise on its side.
“Why, Bethany Nitshimi,” Jamal played up a rousing case of the vapors. “I do declare your fervor for the masculine does make me wonder.”
“And your zeal for the dramatics makes me wonder.” I tossed a wink Jamal’s way.
“Shut up and build, Nitshimi.” Jamal returned the wink.
Jamal busied himself with the circuit board for the transponder and I th
e containing unit. We’d be given one chance at this, and it couldn’t be squandered due to faulty manufacturing.
“Who’s going to deliver the package?” Jamal asked.
I looked at him, curiosity scrunching my face. Jamal held up his portion of the device to explain his point of reference.
“Me,” I said succinctly.
“Oh, hell no, Bethany. There’s no way you’re going back out into that death trap.”
I placed my work on the bench. “It’s either that or I remain here to face down the Zero Day Collective. It’s a lose-lose situation, I know…but if we send Morgan and Josh to deliver this, we lose our best fighters. I need them here to protect the one thing the ZDC has come for.”
“Jacob,” Jamal whispered.
I nodded in agreement.
“This isn’t something I can leave to chance, Jamal. He’s too fucking important.”
“But what about you? I’d say in order of importance on the planet, you’re pretty much at the top of the food chain.”
“Was, you mean. With Gerrand and Fry in the picture, I don’t feel nearly as required.” I pointed a finger Jamal’s way. “Before the spark of thought is given life in your massive bowl of gray matter, that was not a humblebrag or ploy for sympathy. It’s the truth.”
“You’re wrong. Gerrand may have developed a weapon, but you are the only human on the planet with an intimate and profound understanding of the virus. Mengele is as much a part of you as, dare I say, Jacob. So get over yourself thinking the necessity of the Nitshimi has dropped a notch or two. You are Neo, you are Alice, you are Gypsy Danger.”
I laughed. “And you just cross-pollinated way too many metaphors. Gypsy Danger? We’re not fighting kaiju, Jamal.”
“We may as well be.”
I nodded. “At least we’d always know who the enemy was.”
“If I agree to let you do this—and I haven’t as of yet—you will not be going alone.”
“And who, if I may ask, do you propose comes along for this dark hayride?”
Jamal held up the circuit board. “Finished. And who do you think?”
I handed over the containing unit. “I’ll take Jamal for five hundred.”
He inserted the board into the container and screwed the cap on tight. After a violent shake of the small metal tube, he hit the test button. The LED glowed green for two seconds and faded. “We have a winner.”
“I give, Jamal. You and I will deliver the package.”
“That’s my girl.”
We made our way back into the heart of HQ to find everyone but a large, red-headed ZRT soldier gone.
“What the hell happened?” I asked the stranger.
“Name’s Rusty, ma’am.”
“Okay, Rusty, where did your commander go?”
“Rondo? He’s outside the building standing guard with the others. I’m in here to listen for… what’s his name?”
“Jacob?” I answered.
“Yeah… him.”
I realized the immediate disconnect and continued. “I didn’t mean your… squad commander. I meant… shit.” I drew in a breath to get my bearings. “Morgan and Josh. Where did they go?”
Rusty smiled and nodded. “Right. They escorted Gerrand in the car. Said they were going to locate the means to synthesize the weapon.”
I glanced out the front window. Rusty was right; the Mercedes was gone. I turned back to Jamal. “How did we not hear them leave?”
Jamal met me at the door. “We were knee-deep in the big funky back there. I’m fairly certain Godzilla could have done the running man in the driveway and we wouldn’t have noticed.”
He was right. Once in the zone, we were oblivious.
Jamal turned to me. “I guess we travel by bike?”
I nodded and then looked to Rusty. “We’ll be back. Guard Jacob as if your own life depended on it.” I turned to exit and stopped to toss a simple warning to the soldier. “It just might.”
We exited the house. The heat of the desert caressed my cheeks. I wanted to be selfish and enjoy the moment outside of what it truly was—a sort of homecoming. Me and the Zero Day Collective. It seemed we’d begun the beguine so many times I’d almost forgotten what tune we were dancing to. The only song that came to mind was “Under Pressure”. I was okay with that. Having Freddy Mercury’s voice in my head at go time was…
“You’re thinking about Freddy again, aren’t you?” Jamal interrupted my moment.
I turned to him and smiled as wide and warm as the circumstances would allow. “I love you, Jamal. Beyond time and tide, life and death…you are my hope and my salvation.”
He pulled me in for a hero’s’ kiss. I melted, just enough to allow the heat from his touch to winnow its way into my flesh.
When we parted, Jamal gestured toward our trusty steeds. “Let’s get our pedal on, bitch.”
“Ma’am.” Rondo’s voice startled me.
I turned to see the man at full-on attention beside the door. I nodded. He saluted. I spoke with an almost defiant tone. “We won’t be gone long. Do not let anyone in this building unless they are with the group.”
Rondo nodded sharply. It was my turn to salute. I had no idea why…it just happened.
I swung my leg over the bike and asked Jamal the only question to hold any relative meaning. “Where exactly are we going? We have no idea where the Thelemites’ headquarters are.”
Jamal offered up his I got this one nod. “I’ve been ruminating on that very issue. Given the instances where we have run into these people, I think I’ve narrowed it down to roughly a five-block radius. Considering we don’t really need to toss the transponder down their throats to provoke this clash of titans, I’m certain we’ll be okay with that margin of error.”
For once I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I knew what Jamal was saying. Thankfully, I trusted the man enough to give him a million benefits of a million doubts. With that thought lodged soundly in my mind, I gestured for him to lead the way.
We pedaled. For a brief second, I felt like a little girl again. The hot summer air rushing over the skin of my cheeks, the sound of cicadas buzzing their infinite drone. The urge to chase down an ice cream truck was palpable…even one driven by a clown in a suit from bygone years.
And then my phone rang. If there was one thing the apocalypse has done better than anything else, it’s managed to turn the innocent ring of a phone into a most unwelcome sound. It was either bad news or the siren song of the undead. Either way…a suck fest followed.
I slammed on the brakes, which caused the bike to fishtail to the right. I dropped my left foot and leaned into the turn. The bike came to an almost graceful stop.
Jamal circled me on his bike. “Damn, girl, that was almost smooth. If I had a horn to honk, I’d be on that thing like white on rice.”
Without acknowledging his comment, I snatched my phone from my back pocket. Morgan’s name appeared on the face of the device. I slid the screen to the right to accept the call.
“Morgan, is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Pull your finger from the panic button, B. I just wanted to let you know we’re at the target. We managed to locate their chemistry department. The doc thinks he’ll find everything he needs to synthesize Fry in here. Judging by the equipment he’s already gathered, it’ll be much faster for us to work in one of the labs here. You good with that?”
I expelled a lengthy sigh. “Do I have a choice?”
“I suppose we could load up the Mercedes…”
“No. No. Stay there. Get it done as quickly as possible and return to HQ. I have a feeling we’re going to need you. The rest of your team is guarding the house. I can trust them, right?”
“They may as well be me, Bethany.”
I held my response.
“Yes, you can trust them…implicitly.”
“Thank you, Morgan.”
“We all have to do our part.”
“Keep me updated.” I paused. “But give me about an hour be
fore you call again. Jamal and I are about to deliver the package.”
“Shit,” Morgan said softly. “Good luck, B.”
“I don’t need luck. I need a drink.”
“Amen, sister. When we get back, you and I are going to do just that.”
We hung up and, after I relayed the information to Jamal, we pedaled off.
twenty-one | go
“Sir,” the voice drifted into Faddig’s consciousness like a wave of nausea. “Sir, Gerrand has reached his destination.”
At the doctor’s name, Faddig sprung up to a seated position. The room spun quickly and an explosion of vomit fountained from his mouth to spill over the soldier. Round by round, the room slowly came to a halt. Faddig held up his hand to receive a towel and wiped away the scatter-shot mess on his chin, neck, and chest.
“Where are they?”
The soldier stood at stick-straight attention. “New Salt Lake City, sir. Do you want our men to infiltrate?”
“No. Have them stand down until the cavalry arrives. Have we managed to collect any more recruits?”
“Yes, sir. They are awaiting your…instruction, sir.”
Faddig waved the soldier off. Dr. Brandt swooped in to remove the picc lines and monitors from the commander.
“Don’t I get some juice or a cookie?” Faddig joked.
Brandt’s face flushed with a nervous pallor. “I could…”
“You could shut up and get me my clothing.”
The doctor complied. “You’ll be weak for while. You really should remain here, in this bed.”
“Doctor, the apocalypse doesn’t care if I’m weak, sick, dying, or dead. What’s out there eats the healthy and its young. I don’t have a choice but to stand up and finish what I’ve started. So unless you have a fucking cookie for me, hand me my shirt and let me be on my way.”
Faddig slipped into and buttoned his shirt. As he carefully walked out of the lab, he grabbed his jacket and held it fast in his grip.
As the door shut behind him, Faddig fell into the wall. The floor undulated below his feet and the walls constricted. He closed his eyes against the fun-house tunnel of horrors. “Get yourself together,” Faddig whispered.
After a few more deep inhalations, he opened his eyes. The hall had returned to normal and the sweat on his neck and back cooled. Faddig stood and continued onward…toward the car containing the new recruits.
