It wasn’t a fortune, but it would go a long way toward making things cool with my roommate. What was the worst that could happen? I could probably track down Frank, send her on her way, and my weekend, $250 richer, would be made. I could buy a fresh case of Red Bull, smokes, hell, I could pick up some cheap liquor while I was at it. Suddenly I felt like her arrival was a very good thing.
“Let me mull it over,” I said, then sat back and put my hand under my chin as if deep in thought. I squinted my eyes for added effect.
She crossed her arms over her chest and, if I’m not mistaken, she tapped her foot.
“Well?”
“Fine. I’ll do it, but it’s the principle, not so much the money. If finding Frank will help, I’m your man,” I said, rather magnanimously, if I do say so myself.
She counted out a hundred dollars while clearly hiding a very heavy eye roll, and handed me the bills. “The rest is yours once we find your friend.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. Frank isn’t my friend. He’s my boss, or he was. But I wouldn’t call him my friend,” I said with a hint of irritation.
Frank was going to have me fired, after all. It was a shame that Frank worked for the temp agency. If he had worked for Abraxin, maybe Elizabeth could put in a good word for me, and help me hold onto my crappy job.
“Friend or not. You were the only other person there and I desperately need to find him.”
“I have an actual friend who’s a little bit of a nut. He has a bunker where he preps for the end of the world. He’s also good with computers and even better at tracking down information. On top of all that, he sells me weed,” I said. “He’ll be able to find Frank’s address.”
“I don’t need to know the mechanics, nor the method. Find him,” she replied firmly. “I need to use the bathroom, and then we’ll leave. I assume your friend can track down Frank very quickly?”
“First door on the left.” I pointed toward the hallways. “And yeah. He’s real good. I’ll message him now.”
I sent Roger a text with Frank’s name, and Abraxin in the message. Roger quickly messaged me back that he would have an address in a few minutes.
Once she closed the door I turned on the television to see what the weather was going to be like for the rest of the day. My jaw dropped open as I watched. I tried flipping to a different channel but the news was the same, it was just being spouted by a different person.
4
I almost regretted that I had turned on the television.
A newscaster stood on the street next to a news van. His eyes had that worried, but somehow self-assured look as he spoke into a microphone. They must teach that look in broadcasting school.
“At this time there are more questions than answers. What we know is that a man has taken hostages at Emory Hospital and is considered armed and dangerous. Sources tell me that the hospital is going into lock down and loved ones are advised to stay away for the time being. We’ll bring you more of the story as it develops. Now, here’s Verna with a look at our top viral stories from the Internet.”
“Uh. We have a problem. Where did they take the guy I set free after the cops showed up?” I yelled.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” Elizabeth yelled back.
Just then the front door opened and in strolled Mitch and Mindy. There was always this little grudge in the back of my mind, but it was minor. The thing was that Mitch and I had met Mindy and her friend at a bar. I’d had my eyes on Mindy, but she and Mitch had hit it off. I hadn’t gotten anywhere with the other girl, and I occasionally got a little jealous that Mitch and Mindy had hit it off. Honestly, it was cool. Their names were cute together, or so Mindy claimed. Mitch and Mindy. Awww.
Whatevs.
I turned down the TV’s volume and hoped like hell the attack at the hospital wasn’t related to what had happened at Abraxin. Emory wasn’t all that far from where I worked, and that gave me an idea because we might need a little help.
“Did you just get home?” Mitch asked. He carried a tall white coffee mug and a brown bag.
“Not exactly,” I said. Mitch didn’t know that I’d gotten home early enough to hear the whole “naughty monkey” thing. Come to think of it, I’m glad Mindy and I hadn’t hooked up back then. I don’t know what they were up to in the other room, but I certainly wasn’t ready to be a naughty monkey for anyone.
“What are you guys doing for the rest of the day?” I asked.
“Netflix and chill. I had a shit week,” Mindy said.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go check out a possible zombie outbreak?” I pointed at the screen. “I was about to call Roger and see if he wants to go.”
“What kind of chronic did you get a hold of?” Mitch asked.
“No, man. It’s real, and I might be the cause.” I sat back and crossed my arms. “Speaking of chronic. Do you have any?”
“Oh Jesus. Here we go.” Mitch rolled his eyes. He reached into the brown bag and pulled out a cinnamon roll, and handed it to Mindy.
My stomach grumbled at the sight. I hadn’t had a damn thing to eat since before going to work last night. “Can I get one of those?”
“Can I get the rent?” Mitch shot back.
Mindy licked frosting off her finger. I had to shut my mouth for fear of saliva running down my chin. The cinnamon rolls smelled so good I wanted to bum rush them. Instead, I kept my cool because I was going to need help with the lady doctor.
“About that,” I said. I stood up, took out the hundred that Elizabeth had fronted me, and peeled off eighty dollars. It wasn’t enough to cover my half, but it put me close to being in the black. “Here.”
Mitch smiled. “One cinnamon bun for my roomie coming right up.”
Mindy rolled her eyes.
The toilet flushed and the water in the bathroom ran for a few seconds. Mitch’s eyebrows rose.
“I have a girl here,” I said as I took the cinnamon bun and took a huge bite. Oh my god. It was still warm.
“Like. Kidnapped?” Mindy asked.
“No. She’s cool. I think. She’s a doctor.”
“Oh no. Like, your test results came back, and they came out to break the news?” Mindy groaned.
“Very funny.” I frowned.
Elizabeth strolled out of the bathroom shaking her hands. “I don’t suppose you have a clean towel?”
“Maid’s month off,” I shrugged. “There’s some paper towels in the kitchen right above the sink.”
“No, there isn’t,” Mitch said. “You were supposed to buy them last week and you never got around to it.”
“More like never had money for them.” I frowned. Why did Mitch have to bust my chops in front of the attractive lady doctor?
“Hello there.” Elizabeth nodded at Mitch and Mindy as she continued to shake her hands in the air.
“Huh,” Mitch said.
“Dr. Elizabeth Breeze. Happy to meet you all,” Elizabeth said as she peered into the brown bag, extracted a cinnamon bun, and sniffed the pastry.
“Elizabeth Breeze, like the porn star?” Mindy and Mitch asked in unison.
* * *
The lady doctor, Elizabeth (she actually told me later that it was mildly offensive to refer to her as “the lady doctor”, which was sort of like telling me that saying the word “fuck” wasn’t good for my soul), went over the same things she had explained to me, but I picked up something new the second time around. As far as I could tell, Frank hadn’t had time to call the agency before he’d run out of the building. That meant I probably still had a job.
I jumped up and went to the bedroom while Elizabeth gave Mitch and Mindy what sounded, to my ears, like the public image, let’s call it a six-thousand foot view, of her her job. My Chromebook had been left plugged in, thankfully, and had a full charge. I logged into my work account and saw that there was an action item for me. Because the lab had been shut down they needed me to submit a log out time.
“Hell, yeah,” I said with a grin plastered to my
face.
“You okay in there?” Mitch called.
“Yeah. I still have a job.” I laughed.
“For now,” Mitch shot back.
I filed for an exception with payroll so I would get paid for the night, and as long as they couldn’t reach Frank they would have to take my word for it. I wanted to feel bad for Frank Evans, but that guy had hated me from the first day I started work at Abraxin.
When I came back into the room Mitch turned to me. “Did you already call up Dumbass?”
“He means my friend, Roger Dramas,” I said for Elizabeth’s benefit. “The guy who’s tracking down Frank for us. He’s kind of a conspiracy guy, but he’s not that bad.”
“He’s your friend,” Mindy snarked.
“I’m sorry. A conspiracy nut. Care to expand on that?” Elizabeth asked.
“I love your perfume,” Mindy said as she passed Elizabeth on her way to get her vape pen from her purse.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “It’s called eighteen hours in a lab with a hint of blood and mucus.”
Mindy didn’t even seem to hear her as she stared at the television screen and puffed on her vape pen.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and read the message. “Dumbass might stop by. He said he’s too busy investigating what’s going on at Emory. He’s probably deep into his conspiracy websites,” I said.
I shouldn’t have said that last part with such derision. As far as I was concerned, most conspiracy theories were jokes. In this case I knew for a fact that Abraxin was working on some weird shit and it was all somehow connected to the CDC. Not only that, but there was some shit going down at Emory Hospital.
“We were watching this at the coffee shop. Is this shit at Emory related to the thing you told us about?” Mitch asked as he pointed at the television.
“A coincidence. Don’t read anything into it,” Elizabeth said.
“Seriously?” I said.
“Yes. It’s not any of our concern,” Elizabeth said, a little more sharply this time.
“So we’re all going, yeah?” Mitch changed the subject, but not before he winked at me.
“The more the merrier?” I shrugged. “Strength in numbers, especially if they’re zombies.”
“What kind are we talking?” Mitch asked.
“The fast ones. Ragers.”
“Rage zombies are the fucking worst. You can’t outrun them, and they’re born pissed off,” Mitch said.
“The slow ones scare me,” Mindy said. “I can run fast. It’s the numbers that freak me the hell out.”
“I’ll take slow ones any day of the week. I saw this rager up close, and he scared the shit out of me,” I said honestly.
“Would you all please stop talking about zombies as if they are a real thing? I’m sorry, but it sounds so childish,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Your funeral,” Mitch shrugged.
* * *
“Well that clears it up,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Come on, babe. Let’s grab some gear from the bedroom,” Mitch said to Mindy.
“I’m not paying them. I’m paying you for your help,” Elizabeth said after they had left the room and closed their bedroom door.
“They don’t have to know about the money. We could, as they say, keep it on the down low,” I said.
“It’s idiotic to invite them along. We may be stepping into real danger.”
“There’s safety in numbers.” I shrugged. “We can cover more ground if need be. Plus both of them are a little bit crazy for zombie movies. If there are more of those rage things out there, we’ll be glad they came along.”
“What sort of gear are they talking about? We have a simple plan and that involves locating your friend and bringing him back to the lab.”
“I told you. He’s not my friend.” I frowned. “Speaking of which. What happened to the other guy, the one I accidentally let out?”
“A team arrived right after you left, followed by a few police officers.” She turned away and stared at the television. “We secured Latimer, for now, but Frank got out in the elevator right after you. There was a scuffle, and I fear one of the officers may have been hurt. However, in the confusion, I slipped out so I could look for Mr. Evans. I spent hours trying to find him, but I had to get a few hours of sleep. I awoke and thought of you.”
“But you saw Frank get away?”
“I assumed he did, since he was nowhere to be found within the building.”
“Shit.” I frowned. “So the cops probably took any injured officers to Emory, and now we have a situation there.”
“That’s not how this works,” Elizabeth said.
“But it is contagious?” I asked.
“I have no idea, since you let the patient out. I haven’t had time to do a proper study.”
“I said I was sorry. What would you have done in my shoes if you saw someone locked up?”
“I would ask a few questions before doing something so rash and stupid!”
God, this woman was getting on my last nerve. More concerning was the fact that this thing might be running rampant in Emory Hospital. No matter how she played it down, I had visions of a police officer being dragged in, treated, and a few hours later, turning into one of those rage things.
Elizabeth was correct in that we needed to find my boss, Frank, and see if he was actually infected. Maybe we would get to Frank’s house and he would be kicking back in front of the TV watching Game of Thrones and drinking a beer. Mission accomplished, and I would be two-hundred and fifty dollars richer.
But just in case, I went back to my bedroom and dug around under the bed until I found my old camping backpack. Inside there was a small hand axe. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing if we were about to face some potentially rage-induced, zombified men.
5
It was close to 9:00 a.m. when we left the apartment. I had changed into a pair of jeans which I suspected were clean, a yellow t-shirt from a pizza joint I had once visited in Kentucky called Mellow Mushroom, and a button-down grey shirt that was actually clean, because I’d managed to miss it in the back of my closet over the last few weeks. It was a little wrinkled but it was perfect for hiding my camping axe, which I stuck through a belt, but kept the head against my abdomen.
The lady doctor drove a Range Rover, but not one of those new fancy SUVs. This was an old-school gold Discovery 2 complete with a huge metal brush-guard on the front, which would be perfect for barreling through a potential zombie outbreak. The interior smelled a little bit like mildew, but it was clean, inside and out.
“This is a cool truck,” I said as I settled into the passenger seat.,
Mitch and Mindy threw their bags in the back and then slid in while Elizabeth, already in the driver’s seat, got out her cell phone and texted someone, completely ignoring my complement.
“Wow, this thing is like, old,” Mindy muttered.
Mitch shushed her.
“It’s okay. The vehicle is old, but it is also quite reliable. I appreciate a car that is elevated and it’s a lovely ride,” Elizabeth said as she continued messaging someone.
I did the thing that everyone else was doing and took out my phone. I loaded the camera app and took a picture of the Range Rover logo on the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth frowned at me.
“It’s for my Instagram,” I said. “Are we going to get this show on the road?”
“What has my steering wheel got to do with your photography application?”
“Him and his eight followers.” Mitch chuckled.
“I have more than that,” I said. I’m pretty sure I was up to twenty. “I like to post strange things, and being in a Range Rover is strange to me.”
Elizabeth shook her head, pocketed her phone, and started the car. The engine roared to life and then the big truck surged out of the parking lot with a meaty growl.
“Damn. I could handle driving one of these,” I said.
�
��A little better than your Chevy Aveo, right?” Mitch said with a laugh.
“Like. Anything is better than that car,” Mindy said.
“Like your car?” I said.
Mindy didn’t have a car, she also didn’t have a comeback.
“Do you know where we’re going yet?” Mitch asked.
That was a great question. Suddenly my phone lit up. I checked it to find a message from Roger.
“We’re in business,” I said in an attempt to sound cool.
“No, we are not,” Elizabeth said. “This is a simple one day arrangement.”
“Bahhhhm,” Mitch made an O out of his mouth and dropped a bass line from the back seat.
“I mean, I have the address. Hold on, I’m loading it into the app now.”
“Recalculating,” my phone said in her robotic voice, reminding me a little bit of the lady doctor.
“At the next light you need to go right.” I pointed at the upcoming stop light.
“You know, you could simply turn up the volume on your phone so you don’t have to shout out the directions.”
“Fine,” I said and turned it up all of the way.
We passed a Steak n’ Shake, which made my stomach grumble again. The cinnamon bun had been warm and sweet, but it wasn’t really enough food to hold me over for much longer. What I really needed were some greasy eggs and bacon to soak up all of the booze that still lingered in my gut. A minute later we drove past a Kroger.
“We should stop there and stock up on supplies,” I suggested.
“What sort of supplies?” Elizabeth asked. “Better we find Frank, and then you’re free to buy beer and potato chips.”
I liked her pronunciation when she said potato chips.
“Is it true that ‘chips’ in England are actually French fries?” Mitch asked.
“Oh yes. I do enjoy fish and chips with mint pea salad,” Elizabeth said wistfully.
Several minutes and several turns later, we arrived at an apartment building called La Casa that was a lot nicer than ours. Landscaped bushes, trees, and green grass greeted us as we pulled into the parking lot. Even the grass edges had been trimmed back form the sidewalks.
Dawn of the Rage Apocalypse Page 4
