Molly: Immersion (Zombie Instinct Book 2)

by J. B. Havens

  “Fuck off,” I grunted, grabbing his boot when he kicked again. I jerked his ankle sideways, feeling the bone break in my hands. The sound went unheard, drowned by his screams. He crashed to the floor, dropping his blade.

  He forgot everything around him under the volume of his pain. Clutching his ankle and whimpering between cries of agony, he was reduced to a pathetic creature. I jumped up, showing off my speed and agility.

  “Becky!” he shouted.

  I’d forgotten about the woman upstairs. “Goodbye, Lou.” I stomped on his head with all of my strength.

  A loud crack echoed through the basement, like someone had dropped a watermelon. His legs twitched as his mouth opened and closed spasmodically. Two more gasps and his legs stopped twitching. Grey matter leaked from his ears, mixing with the blood from his destroyed face.

  Damn, I ruined my shoes.

  Grabbing the forgotten blade, I ran for the stairs, going up them two at a time. I was at the top at the same moment Becky opened the door. I didn’t hesitate and swung the machete straight down into the space between her neck and shoulder. The sharp weapon did its job, stopping only when it caught on the bones in her chest. I jerked it out and pushed her down the steps behind me. The meaty thunks of her body hitting the stairs echoed up through the floor.

  What I saw in the room ahead clenched my gut in horror. My enhanced sense of smell was not my friend at the moment. I was in a small cabin. Directly ahead of me was the living room/kitchen combo. Where a normal person would put a table, these psychos had an old fashioned dentist’s chair. Its cushions long stained a combination of black and rusty brown. Straps at the feet and wrists completed the look. A table behind the chair was full of knives, pliers, saws, and other things I couldn’t make out in the pile. Nor did I want to.

  In the corner of the room were discarded and bloody Army fatigues, beside them were the black tactical clothes that the snowmobilers had been wearing. Three full-faced helmets rested on top of the pile.

  Wait, three?

  Chapter Five

  Dr. Joseph Reeves was in his private quarters at the secure Double Helix Headquarters in a lab the size of a small city, buried deep within the Rocky Mountains. What he saw on his tablet made him clench his jaw in irritation. He held a PhD in Genetic Engineering with a specialization in Biotechnology, and he’d be the one forced to clean up the mess left behind at the Northeastern Lab. That idiot, Henderson, had gotten himself killed and enabled the escape of the two most powerful and remarkable Alphas they’d seen to date.

  A knock sounded on the door, drawing his attention away from the gigantic disaster he was looking at on the screen.

  “Enter.”

  Sergeant Rosenberg marched in, standing stiffly at attention. “Sir, the transport is ready,” he announced.

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll be along in a moment. You may take my bags.” Turning off his tablet and sliding it into its place in his laptop bag, he waited as the soldier collected his garment bag and carry-on. His laptop never left his possession. Even as he slept, it was near his bed. Its biometric security kept it safe and all his research was backed up daily via satellite to a server off-site.

  As he followed the sergeant down the hallway, the high sheen of his shoes reflected the lights above his meticulously groomed head. Silent and stiff, his posture emulated his high ranking position. Dr. Reeves had been with Double Helix Industries for almost a decade, climbing the ranks until he was the Chief Scientist in charge of genetic research. Since the virus began, his goal was to develop a cure.

  Now, through his research, he believed that creating a vaccine for the virus was impossible. Similar to the flu, it mutated so quickly that any vaccine would be obsolete in weeks. Instead, he changed the way they thought about a cure. If they couldn’t stop the virus from spreading, they needed to change how the remaining humans dealt with the infected. Initially, he was at a loss as to what that answer might be, but after the events at the Northeastern Lab, he knew where to start: The Alphas.

  His thoughts continued as he rode the elevator to the surface where a helicopter waited for him. They were flying to the lab; he needed to see the results for himself, at the source.

  Originally, he assumed that the Alphas were a rare anomaly, but as reports began to filter in from the West, Central, Southern, and now, Eastern Labs, he was convinced they were the answer. He needed blood samples and time to analyze them. Bone marrow samples would be even better. But like most things, patience was key. He must determine the correct questions before he began to seek answers.

  Climbing aboard the helicopter, he rested his chin on his steepled fingertips, contemplating what Dr. Henderson had been thinking. From the video he’d seen so far, the man had risked not just his own life, but the discovery of the entire operation. He’d seen the younger of the two women sit down at a terminal and click through files. It was apparent that she had no working knowledge of the facilities computers or she would have found much more damning evidence.

  Double Helix had been working on biotechnology and virus mutations for bio-weapons since the 1980s. The government and Double Helix were a top secret partnership. The work Double Helix did enabled the government to have both offensive and defensive measures in place in the event of a biological attack against the United States. The company just happened to have the ability to turn the fear of a bio-attack into a profitable enterprise. Those profits funded their real research, the genetic modifications of human DNA. Dr. Reeves desired nothing more than to be the scientist heralding the next stage of evolution of man. Super humans, men and women capable of rapid healing, immense speed, and Godlike strength. The virus ravaging the planet seemed to have the means for achieving his greatest desire.

  He needed those two girls in his laboratory as soon as possible. He’d also need both infected and non-infected humans on which to do his tests. If he could synthesize the genetic marker for the Alphas and be able to recreate the change those girls went through, he would kill two birds with one stone, as the saying went. He would be creating a new race of humans while also dealing with the zombie problem.

  Chapter Six

  The cabin door opened, blowing in gusts of frigid wind and snow along with the figure stepping inside. Stomping the snow from his feet, he slammed the door shut behind him, turning his back to me to do so. I stayed by the basement door, flattening my back against the wall.

  “Lou? Becky? Where ya at?” Removing his coat and shaking the snow off, he hung it on a hook by the door.

  Not wanting to make another stupid mistake, I rushed him. His surprise was almost comical in its intensity as I grabbed him and spun him around. Pinning him against the wall by his throat, the thump of his heartbeat was frantic, and his scent was delicious. Fighting down the urge to feed, I growled in his face. I kept my grip loose enough so he could talk and breathe. He was very young, barely old enough to shave but judging by the fatigues he wore, old enough to die for his country.

  “Fuck, man. I don’t wanna die like this,” he begged, not yet realizing that I wasn’t your average walking meat sack. He was paralyzed by fear, unable to struggle or fight my hold, though I wasn’t sure if he would anyhow. I could almost smell the cowardice on him.

  “I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat you—yet,” I growled. “But I also can’t see a reason to keep someone like you alive.”

  His eyes widened even further at my words. “You…not possible. The dead don’t speak.” His bladder released as absolute terror overtook his body. He was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  “What’s with the horror show in here?”

  “Man, I don’t know.” His eyes rolled around in their sockets like a startled horse. He was so scared that his brain was struggling to come up with answers, making him stutter. “They’re psychos, man. Lou…and B-Becky. They fucking torture the z-zombies. Cut them up and shit. It’s their…their revenge. I swear, man, that’s all I know. P-p-please don’t kill me.”

  “You’re a c
oward, aren’t you?” Squeezing a little tighter, I considered whether I should just keep squeezing until my fingers touched on the inside his neck.

  “Man, come on, man,” he whined, close to passing out. I eased up my grip and let him drag in some much needed air.

  “Let me guess. Because they’re strong and you’re weak, you followed along, using them for their protection and you kept your mouth shut about what they did? Content to go with the flow while they butcher people? There’s no way this set up is just for zombies. You kill humans too, don’t you?” I shook him as I said the last, clacking his teeth together.

  He struggled now, knowing what was coming. Zombie torture, as sick as it was, I could let go. We all hated them and what they’d done to our world. But, innocents? That I could not abide. Dropping him to the floor, I kicked him in the nuts, tucking my foot so hard into his body that his lower half came up off the floor. He gagged and puked harshly, curling up into a ball around himself and clutching his wounded testicles. His face was bright red and a trickle of vomit ran out of the corner of his mouth.

  Pathetic creature.

  “Don’t move, boy.” I snapped my fingers at him, anger hot in my blood. Striding across the room, I began to sift through the junk piled on every flat surface of the cabin. There were two sets of long chainmail gloves, sitting beside a leather harness fashioned to work as a muzzle. This must be how they kept from being bitten when cutting up the zombies. Smart. Sick and twisted, but smart.

  Tossing aside empty beer bottles and cans of food, I found a pile slightly separate from the others, more care had been taken with these items. It was somewhat organized and mostly clean. Driver’s licenses, necklaces, rings, photographs. Dozens of them. All from women or girls. They seemed to range in age from eighteen or so up to women in their forties. I clenched my teeth in rage, my new-found zombie instincts driving me to tear him apart. The small sliver of humanity I had left was the only thing that kept me in check. Barely.

  “You’re fucking serial killers.” I didn’t need to ask, the evidence was apparent. Damning.

  “P-please. Not me. I-I didn’t do those girls. They did. Man, they’re crazy.” He was frantic. Standing, he tried to run, but he was no match for my speed. Grabbing him by the hair I jerked him away from the door. Keeping ahold of his hair, I dragged him along with me over to where I’d left the machete. He was squealing and crying, begging for his life. His heels slipped and skipped along the dirty planks of the cabin floor. I picked up the blade with my free hand and continued across the short distance to the basement door.

  I pulled him down the basement steps with me. He jerked away from me, ripping a handful of hair out in the process. He made it two steps before I grabbed him again, this time by the ankle. Pulling sharply, he fell on his face, breaking his nose on the stair.

  “Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Just kill me! Don’t feed me to those things. Please! I swear, I didn’t hurt those girls. Becky and Lou did it. They promised to help them, brought them here, a-and hurt them. They r-raped them before they killed them. They made me help! I didn’t want to. I swear it!” He was babbling and screaming, dissolving into tears, he sobbed like a baby. Blood and snot mixed together into a gigantic mess on his face and chin.

  I drug him down a few more steps before he grabbed one of them, slipping his arms through the space between and wrapping them around the narrow board. I kicked him in the side, feeling a rib snap. His grip slackened and I jerked him by the waistband of his jeans, hauling him down to the bottom of the steps.

  Releasing him, I kicked him in the stomach, and then in the face. I just kept kicking as my rage took over. I felt bodiless, outside of myself, looking at this monster that I was becoming. Unable to stop it and right now, not sure that I wanted to, I left him in an unconscious pile of blood and broken bones. Using the machete, I cut the zombies down, one after the other until the room was packed with patient, dead eyes, all awaiting my orders.

  “Kill him. Turn him. Make him one of you. That’s punishment enough.”

  His screams echoed throughout the cabin, no doubt the same way the screams of those poor girls had. He begged for death. Only, true death would never find him. He’d walk forever, always hungry, always alone. I was just religious enough to know that there was some sort of afterlife, but what that was exactly, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if the souls of the zombies remained or moved on, but many cultures believed that if the body wasn’t at rest, neither was the soul. I’d just dammed his body and soul—or not. Who knew? God seemed to be pretty absent these days.

  Leaving the basement door open, I found a backpack and filled it with some supplies. I didn’t need to scavenge for food anymore, but I took some anyway. It was good for bartering. I shoved in candles, a flashlight, matches, and bottles of water. A lone dresser sat against the far wall. Pulling open drawers I found women’s clothes, I guessed that they’d belonged to Becky. I quickly changed into jeans and a long sleeved shirt; even with my larger frame they were still big on me. Next were a pair of expensive looking sunglasses resting on top of the IDs and jewelry. I did my best not to think about the previous owner, I needed them more than she did right now anyway. Finally, I replaced my ruined sneakers with a pair of boots that fit surprisingly well.

  The zombies from downstairs had begun to come up, bumping against each other in the small room and staring at me. They freaked me out. I wasn’t scared of them in the same sense anymore, but they weirded me out the same way my grandmother’s porcelain dolls did. Empty eyes, forever fixed and staring but nobody home. Shuddering in disgust, I grabbed one of the black jackets by the door and put both it and the pack on. I kept the machete, it was a decent replacement for my lost baseball bat.

  I opened the door a sliver. I’d lost track of what time of day it was. Even if it was high noon, I might go out anyway, the last thing I wanted to do was hang out in this horror show until dusk. Stars twinkled in the clear night sky and a huge, full moon reflected light off the snow. I pushed the shades on top of my head; it was bright enough to see easily. I left the door open and the zombies shuffled out around me. Without orders from me, they wandered in all directions.

  While I’m not bothered by the cold, the snow made everything more difficult. Going south seemed like a good idea. The only reason I came up here to this frozen wasteland in the first place was because I was hoping the cold and snow would have an effect on the dead.

  Yeah, not so much.

  I didn’t know where Kelle was at the moment. I knew I should be more worried about her, but unless she was right in front of me, I didn’t want to think about it. Adjusting to this new life was taking all my energy. Not eating people. Finding shelter from the sun every fucking day. Again, not eating people. My hunger was getting worse and I knew I would need to hunt soon. Taking down a deer maybe? I’d never seen a zombie feed on animals, but there had to be a first for everything. There was a chance I’d get lucky and find a cow. I’d always eaten steak; it would just be a bit rarer now.

  Turning south, I began to jog, the miles passing quickly as my mind drifted endlessly. Thoughts formed, were acknowledged, and then brushed aside. I let my body take over and allowed myself mental peace.

  I was struggling with what I was and what I was becoming. My humanity was slipping away bit by bit. So far, death had sucked as much as life did. I needed some room to breathe, some time to reconcile who I was now, with who I used to be. I didn’t want to let go of the human part of my soul, but I was afraid it was already damned. A rotting husk of its former self, trapped inside the body of a monster. Every time I fed, or killed, I became a little less me and a little more zombie. Would I eventually disappear completely?

  The thought sent a cold wave of terror through my body. I forced my legs to move even faster.

  Chapter Seven

  Kelle stared into the once bright blue eyes of the boy she’d turned two nights ago. They were cloudy now, like a summer sky with storm clouds on t
he horizon. His ash-grey skin and blue lips were an odd compliment to his blond hair. Smoothing his shirt down and stroking his head like the pet he was calmed her rage. She’d been trying to find Molly all night. Every mental stretch yielded no results. It was if she had disappeared.

  Kelle was still figuring out the full range of her powers, but she thought it was more likely that Molly was out of range. Gut instinct told her that her quarry was still alive, maybe that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it felt right to her. Wherever Molly was, it wasn’t here. It was possible that she left something behind, some clue or idea as to where she was heading.

  “Come, my pet. Let’s see what Molly left for us.” She’d tracked Molly south, to this cabin, just outside a little snow-covered town. The smell coming from the place was thick with death and blood. The door hung open, banging against the frame with every gust of wind that pushed it back and forth.

  Tracks crisscrossed through the snow around the cabin, muddying up the ground beneath. Leaving the boy behind with her small army of undead, Kelle stepped cautiously into the cabin. The mutilated body of a woman lay in a puddle of blood near a lone zombie standing in a corner by an open door. Basement? Other than the bite wound on his neck, he was untouched. Newly dead it seemed. Dressed in army fatigues he stumbled toward her.

  She waved him off, saying, “Go outside with the others.” Her attention was drawn to the dentist’s chair in the center of the room and the tables full of torture implements. Though many were common household items, there was no doubt what their use had been.

  She sifted through the piles, finding a separate area full of jewelry and IDs. “Hum, looks like someone was having fun here.” Raising an eyebrow at the dead woman, she asked, “What were you doing here, Molly?”