by Jack Wallen
“What are you saying Sonja?”
Sonja stopped typing and turned to me. “I’m saying this is all typical political spin. This Zero Day is making these blanket statement buzzwords sound like some ideology we actually need, without actually coming out and saying a single thing. This group is committed to something, but they never actually come out and say what. What’s ominous, though, is that they seem hell-bent on purification. Surely, this can’t be some racist platform. Burgess is definitely their leader.”
“Can you find anything about the man himself?”
Sonja’s fingers continued their keyboard ballet.
“The only real fact of interest is that his mother was a holocaust survivor.”
Red flag planted.
“As in Nazi, Germany?”
“Exactly. She survived and wound up raising little Johnny boy on her own. Whoa, now we have a winner.” Sonja’s voice grew in excitement and pitch. “Looks like Johnny’s mommy decided to off herself. The authorities found the woman with her brain decorating a living room wall above a couch. Seems she dismantled herself in front of her son.”
“Hold on a moment.” I turned Sonja to face me. “Put the words pure and Nazi together and what do you think of?”
“Eugenics.”
Sonja spoke without hesitation, as if she had some previous connection with the topic at hand.
“Basically,” Sonja continued. “It’s the science of improving the genetic composition of a population.”
Sonja caught on that I wasn’t catching on. “Think Josef Mengele and the Master Race.”
That did the trick.
“No. I refuse to believe we have been brought in to document some sick twisted Neo Nazi experiment. We are artists – ”
“Malcolm, let’s not jump to conclusions. We are guilty of nothing. But we can’t ignore everything around us. Those scenes we’ve filmed – something isn’t right. If there is some crazy experimentation going on, and I’m not saying there is, we have a duty to document it and get that film into the hands of the authorities.”
This was all madness, and getting way out of hand.
“You’re right. But I want you to keep digging for more information on Burgess. Find anything you can.”
Chapter 21
The scream echoed through the medical lab, nearly threatening to shatter glass and eardrum alike. “Gerand, make it stop. Shoot me, do something. I can’t take this any…any…”
Adele’s head shook violently and slammed down on the metal table. Her hands and feet strained at the Kevlar restraints. Thick veins snaked under her sweat-slick skin. Gerand stood, attempted to place a comforting hand on her cheek when he noticed her eyes glaze over with a thick, white skin. Her jaw snapped at his hand.
She was gone. The woman that was Adele had succumbed to the Mengele Virus. With a cold, clinical hand, Gerand picked up a tablet and notated the time. The next, crucial phase in the test was to draw blood. Even with the limbs restrained, the woman thrashed about enough to prevent anyone from tapping a vein.
The biologist stepped out into the main lab and grabbed the first assistant to cross his path.
“What’s your name?”
The young man was overwrought with fear; unsure if doom, or worse, awaited him.
“M-my name is Randeep Bhatt. Please tell me you are not – ”
“Come with me. I need your assistance.”
The stick-thin, celebrity-handsome technician swallowed hard and fell in lock-step with Gerand. When they entered the examination room, Randeep sucked in a quick breath of shock.
“Adele, no! What have you done?” Without warning, the assistant rushed to the woman’s side and raised a hand to her cheek. The teeth snapped and gnashed at the dark, warm skin.
“Did you know this young woman?”
Randeep dodged his hand in and out, in an attempt to make an affectionate connection. “Yes. We were friends. No, more than friends.”
Finally managing to lay his palm to her cheek, Randeep spoke softly, lovingly to the girl. “Adele, it’s me, Randeep.”
Adele’s right hand broke free. Her gnarled fingers tangled into Randeep’s thick, black hair. Before the deadly maw could clamp down on the flesh of the man’s skull, Gerand pulled him out of harm’s way. Locks of curl ripped free from his scalp and the two men fell backwards.
“Help me secure her arm.”
“No. I can’t, I won’t.”
Randeep stood and turned toward the door, his hand pressing the bare spot of his scalp.
“You will, or you’re next.”
Gerand’s threats were never hollow; everyone in the lab knew this. The assistant didn’t exit the room, but remained with his back to the biologist.
“This is not what you think Randeep. What I am doing is crucial to our survival. I’m sorry that Adele fell victim to the virus – ”
Randeep turned; his eyes pinholes, his jaws flexing.
“Adele fell victim to nothing more than madness. What you are doing is insane. Whatever this is we are doing will not end well.” The young man stared deep into his reflection in Gerand’s eyes. “You are hiding something, some dark secret. I can see it in your eyes.” Randeep stepped in until he was nose to nose with Gerand. “I help you only because the consequence of refusal is surely death. But know this; I am not afraid of you.”
Gerand held up his hands in a pseudo-genuine surrender.
“Understood. We can discuss this further; but first we need to secure her and draw blood. Please, help me.”
Randeep capitulated and stepped in to help contain the young woman’s arm. It took both men to get Adele’s flailing limb under control.
“How is she so strong, doctor? Is that the virus?”
“I believe so. She’s reacting differently than the other subjects.”
“How?”
Gerand stood back and studied the struggling Adele-zombie as he considered his answer.
“Shortly after amplification, a strange calm overcame the other subjects.” Gerand fell silent for a moment, his hands steepled under his chin. “Step back to the wall, for a moment, and remain silent and still.”
Both men did exactly that. On the gurney, Adele continued thrashing about in the bed, ear-splitting screams raging from her throat. Eventually, Gerand spoke again.
“The other subjects would almost immediately turn passive when no living flesh was within reach. With her, the rage is a constant.”
“Did you change the serum?”
“Not one bit. The ratio is exactly the same and the virus was from the same strain as the others. Technically, this anomaly should not have occurred.”
“But doctor, your assumption that all variables are constant is flawed. I happen to know that Adele suffered from significant anxiety, bordering on bi-polar disorder. What we are seeing could possibly be an amplification of her mental condition.”
Gerand took a moment to weigh the possibility. As he wrapped his brain around the idea, the subject on the table continued to lash out against her restraints.
“Oh my God, Randeep, that is – ”
Before Gerand could continue on, the door to the room flew open and one of the other assistants stepped in.
“We have a bit of a situation.”
Gerand and Randeep followed the young woman out of the room. The whole of the lab workers stood in a circle. In the center of the circle was a man. On the man’s shoulder was a camera.
“What are you doing in here? You were told this building was off limits.” Gerand stepped into the circle – the camera pointed his way and focused.
“Turn that damned thing off.”
The cameraman did not comply.
“I said, turn that bloody machine off. Now!”
Still, the camera continued to record. The whir of the focusing lens could be heard between Adele’s screams from the examination room.
“Randeep, retrieve the tools I left in the other room.” Gerand spoke softly, calmly. “Sir, I will
give you but one last chance to answer my question. Should you not answer; the consequences will be, shall I say, deadly.”
Not a word was spoken. Not a camera was lowered.
Randeep returned with the small black bag and handed it to Gerand. “Very well. You have been warned.”
Gerand nodded slightly. “Restrain him.”
Like cats to a wounded mouse, the lab techs pounced on the man in the center of the circle. Within moments the camera was ripped from the man’s hands and he was strapped tight to a gurney.
“What are you doing?”
“He does have a voice. Very nice. Now you can explain to me why you are here.”
“I’m part of the film crew.”
Gerand lofted a light chuckle into the air. “Yes, I gathered that by this rather expensive camera. But my question is not of your purpose on the grounds, but in my lab.”
“Just doing my job. I chased two men here. Would you mind letting me go?”
Gerand laughed again. “What’s your name?”
“Booth. Sean Booth. I’m a member of the Local 600 International Cinematographer’s Guild.”
”And I am a molecular biologist who happens to hold the very key to the salvation of mankind in his hands. Am I supposed to be impressed by your little title?”
Gerand pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The screen of the device clearly indicated there was no service. “Son of a bitch. Does anyone have service?”
Nearly every technician checked at least one mobile device and shook their head.
“Burgess, what are you up to?” Gerand mumbled and raced to his office to retrieve a small walkie-talkie. When he returned, the radio was in hand and pressed against his ear.
“Burgess, are you listening?”
Static crackled and hissed through the speaker.
“John, this is Gerand. Are you there?”
The static was replaced first by an electronic squeal, then a too-familiar voice.
“Burgess here. This better be good, biologist.”
Biologist. A title normally used in respect and reverence, was tossed off as an insult.
“Oh, you might say that. We have a bit of a situation.”
Gerand explained the arrival of the errant cameraman. The roar that escaped the walkie-talkie nearly shamed that of the zombie Adele. Burgess released a tirade into Gerand’s ear and then barked out orders for the neutralization of what he called ‘the threat’. Upon hearing the orders, the technicians around the room stared at one another in disbelief.
The radio went silent as Gerand glared around the room. Before any of the assistants could dare raise a hand in question, their leader commanded the attention of everyone.
“We are to amplify this cameraman and send him back out into play. With his infection, we are officially tilting the scales toward chaos. This means the spread of the virus will increase exponentially. This is our event horizon. As of this moment, entropy wins; but as scientists, we must do everything we can to prevent absolute failure. From the beginning, our goal was to ensure the entire population of the city was amplified and that the last of the amplified creatures ceased functioning no sooner than twenty-four hours and no later than one hundred sixty-eight hours. With the tipping of the scales, those boundaries are no longer feasible. If I am not mistaken, this amplification means all infected organisms will cease functioning in less than forty-eight hours.”
One of the technicians raised his hand.
“That means the experiment is a failure. If I read my handbook correctly, failure is not an option.”
Gerand blinked and swallowed hard.
“We’ll have to make a few, simple adjustments.”
“What in the hell are you doing?” Sean Booth screamed.
With a wave of his hand, Gerand indicated to have the new subject wheeled away. Randeep complied, rolling Booth into Exam Room B. The man’s screams wound their way around those of Adele, creating a duet of the damned for all to enjoy.
Gerand retreated to his office and slammed the door shut behind him.
“What am I going to do? This has become a disaster.”
He had no choice. Should he fail to infect the cameraman, Burgess would find his way to the laboratory and rain down a very special flavor of destruction.
Before things could spiral too far out of control, Gerand opened up the safe, pulled the satellite phone from its hiding place, and booted the device. The moment the home screen revealed itself, Gerand scrolled through the contacts until he found the name:
Dr. Lindsay Godwin.
Gerand typed out a simple text:
Entropy 1 Gerand 0
Godwin would fully understand the text and, hopefully, have the exact advice he needed to return order back to the grand machine.
The satellite phone remained silent, unchanged.
“Come on, come on!”
Still nothing. Gerand tapped out another message.
Need help immediately
The cursor blinked and blipped in silent mockery. Godwin was more than a mentor, he was like a father. Tears threatened to break the damns of his eyelids. Gerand didn’t want to get Godwin involved with Burgess. He knew Lindsay’s work was far too important to the planet and wanted nothing more than to see him succeed. At the moment, however, he could think of no other member of the scientific community better suited to solve this nightmarish puzzle.
Minutes passed, still nothing. Before suspicion had a chance to worm its way through the lab, Gerand powered down the phone, returned it to the safe, took in a deep breath, and exited the office.
“Randeep, your assistance is required in Examination Room B please.”
With a measured, mean stride, Gerand crossed the main room toward the screaming Sean Booth.
Chapter 22
“Oh my God. Malcolm, are you seeing this?” Sonja’s voice was distant, almost frightened. When I turned to look, she was pointing at one of the monitors.
“Is that?”
“Booth.” Sonja’s answer was almost a question itself; as if she hoped someone, anyone, would prove her answer incorrect.
Camera thirty-three had a perfect shot of Sean as he walked out of the building and into the night air.
“Something isn’t right. Can you gain control of thirty-three?”
“Already on it.”
Sonja’s hands danced over one of the control decks until she had the camera in question under her power. The camera maxed out its digital zoom.
“Shit, he’s too far away, I can’t get him in focus.”
Even through the blur, it was clear Sean wasn’t quite Sean. The man had grace enough to glide on his feet, yet here he was, stumbling aimlessly across a parking lot.
“Is he drunk?” Sonja questioned, completely serious.
“No. Not Sean. The man’s been sober for five years. He wouldn’t fall off the wagon now, not with so much at stake.”
Of course, by so much, I meant cash.
“Any chance Sean’s feed is working now?”
Again, Sonja’s hands did their dance over the console. Mere seconds ticked past before the feed from Sean’s camera appeared on the monitor.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Are you sure that’s Sean’s camera?”
Sonja double checked the settings.
“Absolutely.”
“Does he have sound?”
Another dance. Sonja spiked the volume of the feed. What spilled out over the speakers, punched the breath from my lungs.
“Is he…moaning?” Sonja asked.
He was.
“Malcolm, I don’t like this. Not one fucking bit.”
We continued watching Sean’s feed. The camera work was far too erratic to be the Sean we knew; and the moans. Unless Sean was in a continuous state of pain or orgasm, that wasn’t his normal Modus Operandi either.
“What are we going to do?” Fear and concern colored Sonja’s voice. “Should we go get him?”
The only logical ide
a finally turned the light on over my head. I grabbed the headset and switched the channel over to Eddie.
“Eddie, you there?”
“Mixx here.”
“I need to sidetrack you for a moment.”
“I’m all ears.”
As soon as Eddie had his new location, his camera feed indicated he was sprinting off to find his colleague. I gave Eddie fair warning to keep enough distance between he and Booth. Nothing more needed saying before Eddie picked up on the message.
“What do you expect to see, Malcolm?”
“I have no idea what I expect we’ll see. What I hope we’ll see is another one of Booth’s practical jokes.”
The trail of pranks Sean Booth left behind was epic. It all wanted desperately to make sense to me, as his pranks generally focused on the theme of his work. At the moment, we were working on a zombie film; so it made perfect sense for him hit the make-up trailer, get all ‘zombied up’ and have a bit of fun.
Classic Booth.
Sonja and I waited in silence for Eddie’s camera to pick up Sean. It didn’t take long. When Booth finally came into focus, what we saw was no practical joke. He had the same look as the other ‘actors’ had – the translucent skin, the sour-milk eyes, the shambling gate. What was unique to Sean was that his camera had been propped on his right shoulder and strapped to his head. The weight of the camera would have pulled the head over, had the whole of the strange setup not been also attached to the left shoulder. With each slow step Sean took, he nearly tumbled either forward or backward.
“Sean,” Eddie called out. There was no reply.
“Hey, Sean!” Again the name was called, only this time with more force. Booth’s camera turned toward Mixx – the auto-zoom focused in tight. The view from Sean’s camera slowly swayed back and forth.
Eddie held his distance.
“You okay, Sean?”
The back and forth dance stopped. Through Sean’s mic, the familiar low moaning was picked up. Awkwardly, slowly, the image of Eddie began drawing closer.
“Eddie, he’s coming toward you. Don’t let him get within arm’s reach,” I called out over the headset.
