The Rising Dead

by Devan Sagliani

  “Hair of the dog to chase it,” the cowboy said. Holt popped the pill in his mouth and gulped down the beer.

  “Thanks man,” he managed before slipping back into the couch cushions.

  “You'll be right as rain in no time,” the cowboy said. “I'm gonna fry us up some steaks while we still got propane. Just relax and let it kick in.”

  Holt tried to go back to sleep but he kept remembering the faces of the people he'd killed the night before. A woman with her blouse torn open, bite marks all down the front of her chest. A man in overalls with a trucker hat, big sideburns, who came running at him from the bushes, black bile pouring out of his eyes. There were old people who could barely lift their heads, sick people lying in the streets, even a couple kids. Was the cowboy right? Were they no longer really people?

  Holt popped up and ran to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he was done he stared in the mirror at his blood soaked image. He thought about all the stories he'd heard in Sunday school. He was never the best Christian but that didn't mean he didn't believe. If this was the end of the world, why had he been left behind? He wasn't a murderer, not before last night at least. He didn't rape girls or touch kids or rip off old people for their social security. He liked to party and he'd skipped some church since he turned fourteen but none of his misdeeds seemed like hell worthy sins.

  He turned on the hot water and stripped down, stepping into the shower. It felt like it penetrated him to the bone, searing away the filth. He watched the oily black gunk go down the drain.

  Maybe the reason I'm still here is to fight for God, thought Holt. I'm like one of God's angels, left behind to fight the demons as they rise from hell.

  Holt smiled. A warm feeling spread through him starting in his chest. That was it. He was one of God's foot soldiers in the war for the soul of mankind. He wasn't killing people. No. He was sending hell spawn back to their rightful place. What else could you call these things? They weren't people anymore. The cowboy was right about that.

  Holt laughed. He wasn't left behind. He wasn't forgotten. He was one of God's chosen. He was here on a mission. It was all so clear. The pain in his mind and body seemed to vanish like a ray of sunshine vaporizing all doubt inside of him.

  “Yes Jesus,” Holt said. “I will do your work here on earth until you call me back home!”

  Holt could smell the steak cooking. Suddenly he was hungrier than he'd ever been in his life. He shut off the shower and toweled off. He went into the master bedroom and found some clean clothes that fit, slipping into fresh jeans and a designer t-shirt. He grabbed a hooded sweatshirt just in case it got cold later, opting for it over the heavy leather jacket that hampered his mobility. He had work to do, devils to dispatch, and he didn't want anything to slow him down.

  “Nice new duds,” the cowboy said as Holt walked back out into the living room. His steak was on the table along with two more cold beers to wash it down. “You feeling better?”

  “I am,” Holt said. “I'm feeling ready to get back out there and kill a thousand more of those fucking demons.”

  “Finish your steak first,” the cowboy said with a smile. “We may not get anything this good later on I'm afraid.”

  Holt sat down and began tearing the meat apart in big hunks. It was easily the best meal he'd ever had in his life.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gunner sat in front of the monitors while the rest of them found places to take up refuge inside the Command Center--all except Max, who paced back and forth, lost in thought.

  The video screens showed roving hordes of zombies moving from one part of Thunderdome to another in search of survivors. They were literally everywhere. There was no way to avoid them. The more they searched for new victims, the more frantic they became when they couldn’t find any. Some of them even turned on each other, gnawing on their arms in bitter frustration.

  “They won't find anyone new to kill up there,” said Gunner. “You were the last ones I saw alive. Most of the people I saw didn't last more than thirty minutes. By the time I was geared up and ready to make a rescue attempt, they were already gone.”

  “Did any of them make it to their cars?” Parker asked, hoping to hear some had at least escaped the grounds during the initial commotion.

  “Not that I saw,” Gunner said dourly. “Seems like once they saw those blood-thirsty devils, they lost all common sense. Some of them shouted at the zombies, others just stood there. It was terrible to watch. I'd almost given up by the time I noticed them moving to your side of the dorms. The way they were sniffing the air it was clear they were onto your scent, that there had to be someone there.”

  “That's why you left the safety of the Command Center?” Parker asked.

  “That's why I came to save your sorry butts,” Gunner confirmed. “Looks like I got there just at the right time, too. They seem to be growing more aggressive the longer they go without feeding on human flesh.”

  Gemma covered her mouth, trying to fight back the urge to vomit.

  “So what now?” Max asked, finally standing still. “What's our next move?”

  “We ain't got no next move sparky,” Gunner said, leaning back in his chair.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Parker asked, stepping forward.

  “It means there ain't nothing we can do about whatever the hell is happening out there,” Gunner replied, the cocky smile back in place once again. “Our best chance for survival is to sit tight and try to ride it out.”

  “Oh man we could be here a really long time,” Travis said, looking around the cramped quarters. “I wonder how bad it's gotten out there.”

  “Now that is a good question,” Gunner said. “If this thing could do this much damage to Las Vegas so fast I figure crowded cities like New York and San Francisco are already completely lost. Can you imagine what Cairo or Beijing must look like?”

  “Maybe it hasn't gotten that far yet,” Travis protested.

  “It has,” Max said. “Otherwise why would all the internet servers and cell towers be down? Electricity will be the next to go. Wait and see.”

  “It might not be how they planned it,” Gunner said. “But they still got exactly what they wanted, and more. If you ask me I think they bit off more than they could chew, pardon the pun.”

  “Who did?” Max asked. They all turned to Gunner and stared at him, awaiting his reply.

  “Them,” Gunner said. Parker groaned. Gemma looked scared. “They've been planning it for years, maybe even decades. They sunk that ship coming out of Mexico to cover up their real plans. I'm gonna guess those infected cartel members escaping the prison colony island probably forced them to up their time table a bit.”

  “And you know this how, exactly?” Max asked sarcastically.

  “Up until this morning I used to work for 'em,” Gunner countered, “Or at least one of their many umbrella companies, designed to hide their real intentions from the world.”

  “Work for who?” Parker asked. Gunner ignored him.

  “So basically you're part of the reason that we're in this mess then? Is that what you're telling us?” Max glared, arms crossed, waiting for his answer. It wasn't that she wanted to be so hard on people all the time; that was just the way she always reacted in a crisis.

  Damn, she thought, remembering the time her mother warned her about her mean streak. In return, she’d viciously pointed out every flaw her mom possessed, throwing them in her face over some small argument they'd had.

  'One day you’ll inherit every one of my character defects,' she'd promised. 'Just like I did from my mother.' The words rang out in her head across time, haunting her like an unshakable family curse written into her very DNA.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Gunner said. “I fight to protect people, to protect this great country. I have my whole life. I wouldn't flush that away for any amount of money.”

  “Then what do you mean?” Parker asked. “How do you know this stuff you keep talking about?”

&nb
sp; “I worked at Zymetech,” Gunner said. “I didn't know they were making a biological weapon. I was head of security and I trained other agents as well. Today I saw a man eat up two of my guys. I chased him down in the parking lot just as he was eating a saleswoman and took him out. The cops arrested me for my troubles, held me for questioning, then tried to tell me none of it happened. They instructed me to report back to my employer, but I didn't.”

  “Tell me you got some proof of this,” Travis pleaded.

  “Now you're thinking,” said Gunner. “My little insurance policy. Hell I never figured it would get this out of control, not that I'm surprised mind you. I've been preparing for something like this for years...”

  “Obviously,” said Gemma looking around.

  “I'm not sure they did either,” Gunner said. “I know for a fact that scientist wasn't planning on infecting himself. It has to be an accident, which makes things much worse than I hoped.”

  “How so?” Travis asked.

  “If they planned it, I don't suppose it would go on too long,” Gunner said. “The idea behind a weapon like this is to take out the unwanted human elements while preserving the infrastructure. This is a catastrophe by any standard. Shit's burning out of control and those things seem to be getting stronger, whatever they are, not weaker.”

  “That's a pretty dark outlook on humanity.” Parker shook his head.

  “I agree, son,” Gunner said. “I believe Darwin referred to it as survival of the fittest. They teach you that one yet, college boy?” He winked at Parker, who looked away frustrated.

  “Can we see the tape?” Max asked. “I'd like some kind of proof that what you are saying is real.”

  “Glad you asked,” Gunner said, leering at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “I'd be happy to show you sugar buns. I never expected to have a real live internet celebrity down here with me.”

  He turned back to his computer and opened up a folder, pulling up a video file he'd saved on the hard drive. They all gathered around the screen to watch. The video clip opened on a close-up of a Satoshi in the lab, stripping down and acting irritated. He looked drunk, his movements jerky and erratic.

  “Where is that?” Gemma asked.

  “Zymetech Biolabs,” Gunner said. “This video if from this morning, before all this happened. I took this piece of footage for my own protection, but it don't look like I'm gonna have to worry about being sued anytime soon.”

  The sick-looking man snapped angrily and began beating his head against the desk before projectile vomiting black gunk all over it.

  “What's wrong with him?” Parker asked.

  “He's infected,” Gunner explained.

  Satoshi turned towards the CCTV camera. He looked like a wounded animal now, his eyes solid black. White wriggling foam dribbled out the corners of his sagging mouth. He turned and raced out of the room in search of a victim.

  “Infected with what?” Parker asked. Gunner turned to Travis, whose expression suggested he wasn't all that surprised by what he was seeing.

  “The revelations virus,” Travis said. Parker groaned. Gemma looked horrified.

  “Shut up!” Max said.

  “Travis? What exactly does that mean? Is this some kind of Christian terrorist organization?” Parker sounded angry.

  “It's a myth,” Max said in a whisper.

  “It's biological warfare at it's finest” Travis said. “I've heard rumors of it for almost a decade online now. There were shots from a supposed Ebola outbreak in Africa, along with grainy footage of them torching everyone alive. This is the first I've ever seen something this concrete.”

  “I don't understand,” Gemma said.

  “They've made a virus that turns people into mindless animals, impervious to pain, with an insatiable hunger to kill and eat human beings,” Gunner said. “That clear enough for you?”

  “So they really are zombies?” Gemma looked confused.

  “Pretty much,” Travis said with a gulp.

  “The government developed an endgame weapon to use against our enemies and it got out,” Gunner said. “This Japanese asshole was probably the guy who created it. Guess he got panicky after he saw what happened in Mexico splashed all over the news.”

  “Sounds like a case of instant karma if you ask me,” Max said.

  “Yeah,” Parker said, “so where does that leave us then?”

  “What do you mean what happened in Mexico?” Gemma looked more confused than ever.

  “You didn't see the news coverage? Of the ship?” Gunner looked incensed by her ignorance.

  “What does that have to do with this?” Gemma's voice was growing quieter with each new question. “I'm sorry I just don't get it.”

  “Yeah Gunner,” Parker said derisively. “Why don't you explain it for us simple folk.”

  “The United States government was experimenting with the virus on prisoners at the island colony of Islas Marías,” Gunner said. “I guess they thought since they were isolated from the mainland it wouldn't get out. What they weren't counting on were the Zeta's.”

  “Who the hell are the Zeta's?” Parker was growing angrier by the second. “And what the fuck do they have to do with this shit storm? You sound like a lunatic.”

  “Zeta's are the most feared and respected cartel in Mexico,” Travis said quietly, taking Gemma by the hand. “They were the bodyguards for the Gulf Cartel until they broke off and started their own group. They are all ex-military.”

  “Sounds like some kind of bad B movie,” Parker complained. Gunner ignored him.

  “Their classified as the most technologically advanced, sophisticated, and dangerous cartel operating in Mexico,” Gunner said. “They're responsible for more beheadings and kidnappings than all the other cartels combined.”

  “So why would the Zeta's get involved again?” Max was starting to pay closer attention. Her eyes darted back and forth as she connected the dots.

  “Islas Marias is unique,” Gunner said. “The island itself is the prison. People trying to swim away are caught in the current and swept away.”

  “Like Alcatraz?” Gemma offered, trying to fit in.

  “Exactly,” Gunner said, “only on the island they aren't caged like animals. They are separated into different groups for the most part and left to do chores essential to their survival. It's like being banished. Only the most violent offenders are locked up. There is also a compound for the criminally insane. We can't know for sure but that's more than likely where our government was doing their dirty work.”

  “The president of Mexico is up for re-election,” Gunner continued. “He's facing constant pressure about the rise of Cartel violence. So he conducted a bunch of raids that netted him scores of Zeta's and sent them off to Islas Marias as an example. The only problem is these guys don't believe in leaving men behind.”

  “They are ex-military,” Max repeated. “So they made a raid on the island.”

  “That's why they sank that ship heading towards Coronado Island,” Gunner said. “They concocted that ridiculous story about leprosy and the media swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.”

  “The government basically recruited virologists from around the world to help them design the ultimate nightmare super bug,” Travis said looking queasy.

  “How do you know about this revelations stuff?” Gemma asked.

  “I've gathered bits and pieces online, but there was an article about using viruses for good instead of harm in Wired last month,” Travis said sheepishly. “The government was interested in what kinds of practical applications it might have for the pharmaceutical industry. They suggested that a benign form of it might be used to target cancer cells one day.”

  “Practical applications,” Gunner scoffed. “With just the tiniest bit of tampering you've got yourself a biological agent, now don't you?”

  “How would they get that into the general population without people knowing about it?” Parker asked. “That's the problem with conspiracies, Gunner. They
never make sense because too many people would have to know about it for it to be effective. And if that many people knew about it, they'd never be able to keep it quiet. No one is going to sit quietly by while 'the government' creates a deadly virus meant to kill us all.”

  “I'm guessing you’ve never heard of compartmentalization,” Gunner mumbled under his breath.

  “Tell that to the Guatemalan prisoners and psychiatric patients our government intentionally infected with syphilis and gonorrhea as part of an investigation during the 1940s to study the effects of penicillin,” Travis said. “And the knowledge of that unsavory decade-long experiment only came to light because of Wikileaks. Who knows what else is going on out there right now?”

  “Holy shit,” Max said.

  “He ain't lying,” Gunner said. “I should know. They put us through all sorts of nonsense in the military and didn’t tell us what it was about. Hell just to be with Zymetech I had to get a ton of strange shots.”

  “We're screwed,” Travis said.

  “Why would they do that?” Gemma asked.

  “Haven't you been listening?” Gunner responded. “They want to kill us all and take back the land and resources for themselves. With the vast majority of people gone from the planet they'd be free to start over, reshape the world any way they saw fit. That's what those FEMA death camps were supposed to accomplish. They just stumbled on a better way!”

  “Who's going to rebuild it for them?” Parker asked. “If we're all dead.”

  “Oh they’ve got plenty of doctors and scientists and architects and other important people stashed away,” Gunner said. “They'd have thought of that, too. Believe you me!”

  “So because we don't know what's going on, we're just going to believe all of his paranoid fantasies? He was head of security. For all we know he set it loose to prove a point.”

  Gunner and Parker looked like they were about to go to blows. Neither showed an inkling of backing down. Gemma interrupted them. She'd been fighting back her overwhelming desire to hurl since Gunner had started talking.