Die Zombie Die (I Zombie Book 3)

by Jack Wallen

  Before the girl could break through any further, I left the room. She had more information than necessary, but what exactly could she do with it while isolated? At best it would offer her comfort enough to bolster her strength. At worst it would drive her mad with the desire to know more. Either way, I felt fairly certain that what happened would not cause any noticeable ripples in the waters of The Collective. The only real problem was the hit my own psyche was taking. At the moment what Bethany Nitshimi was being subjected to made me feel like nothing more than a terrorist. There was little doubt the young woman felt she was being tortured. What she didn’t know… well, suffice it to say the human race wouldn’t stand a chance without her.

  Back in my office, the feed from Bethany’s room displayed no change. The tears had evolved into gasps and her eyes, still red, stared toward the ceiling, lost and empty.

  There was, however a silver lining in this tear-stained cloud. Bethany was showing no signs of change. The infection pumped into her body would have already amplified a non-immunized human. This early victory gave me hope my hypothesis was valid. The baby, growing within this woman, was completely and utterly immune to the virus. This was the ultimate proof I needed that mankind did have one last hope.

  I wanted to continue watching the theatre of humanity unfolding, but I had far too much work for such indulgences.

  *

  “What have you done to Bethany and Michelle?” Jean spat his question with as much anger as his weakened body could muster.

  “They are in rooms and situations much like yours.” I wanted to let him know they were still alive, but no more. Like the others, Jean had to remain oblivious to what was really going on.

  When the syringe came out of hiding Jean nearly panicked.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Jean’s pulse skyrocketed.

  I had to get this over with quickly before his vitals raised red flags. This particular injection was not part of any plan The Board knew of. This was my plan. This was my work.

  “You’re a doctor, Jean. I believe you can figure that one out.”

  The beeping of the monitors continued to sound off Jean’s escalating heart rate. This was not going as planned.

  “Yes, but what is it?”

  If I told Jean what the vial contained, would he believe me? Given his current situation I was guessing he would assume every word out of my mouth was a lie, and he would panic. I couldn’t risk the monitoring station suspecting something was amiss. I had to get this injection into Jean, now.

  “Jean, listen to me. Do not repeat a word of what you are about to hear. You have already been injected with the first stage of a vaccination I have been working on for much of my career. This is the second stage of that vaccine. If this works I will have everything I need to create a vaccine to stop this plague. Don’t worry, even if the vaccine fails there will be no side effects.”

  I spoke as softly and quickly as I could. The man hung onto every word. In his eyes I could see the signs of distrust washing away. My words were not lies, he knew… but there was something else keeping him from completely believing my story.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Truth? Okay… I wasn’t lying about the vaccination. As to the side effects? I really have no way of knowing, as this portion of the experiment has yet to be tested.”

  “I’ve already been vaccinated! And we’ve tested our vaccine with success. Surely you know this. You seem to know more about us than we you,” Jean spat.

  “Yes, we followed you. But we don’t know everything… only what Bethany chose to make public.”

  “Then you know Bethany cracked the Mengele file and within that file were clues to the vaccine and a possible cure. That vaccine flows through my veins.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to this new information. Yes, I knew Bethany had created a vaccine, but no… I was not aware they had tested their serum. I was at a crucial point. Did I let Jean in on my little secret, or did I begin piling up the lies now?

  I opted for the truth, my truth… couched in a light blanket of falsehood. I let him know of the Heizer Sequence and how it could bond together cells that would normally reject one another. I filled Jean in on my findings with the experiments and how their DNA had reacted so far to my testing. What I didn’t tell Jean was my plan to create and release the vaccination and cure. There was no way those words were going to spill from my lips – not with The Board potentially listening to my every word. There were simple truths I could reveal without risking danger. The easiest to reveal was that their cure would mostly likely fail. Without the Heizer Sequence there was no way the virus could be stopped from mutating the infected DNA.

  “Thank you for at least respecting me enough to be honest. Too many lies have been told and lives lost. If you are honestly working on a vaccination then I applaud your work. If, however, you are lying to me, may I suggest you stab that needle up your ass?”

  Jean’s stare cut through the space between us and knifed me in the heart. I was breaking down, I could feel it. Keeping the prisoners in the dark as to what was really going on was growing harder and harder. I knew I could fill them in on my secret and their struggles and suffering would abate. That weakness on my part, however, would end in tragedy.

  Even though Jean had been vaccinated with their home-grown cure, I had to assume their discovery would either not work or not last against the ever-evolving virus. I had no choice but to continue on with my own research and assume my vaccination the only true cure.

  When I informed Jean of my decision to continue on, I was surprised that he didn’t reject my hypothesis. Instead, he offered his arm so that I could complete my work. The Frenchman put up no struggle as I carefully, and slowly, injected the virus into his system. From this point on, every second was crucial. Jean’s vitals had to be closely monitored to know exactly when the next injections where to be given. To avoid suspicion, I couldn’t hover around his bedside. Instead, I programmed very precise alarms into the monitors that would alert me for each stage. The alarms fed directly into a paging system that only myself and Dr. Bagen were aware of. Fortunately for me, the elder statesman was a bit of a technophobe and refused to be permanently connected to “gadgets and gizmos.” So when the pager sounded its alarm, only I would know.

  “So tell me, Professor, if I am to help you develop a cure for this dreaded disease, a vaccination you are certain has no ill effects, why is it I am restrained?” Jean lifted his arms as high as they would go before the restraints held him back.

  I thought about my reply. The truth about The Board would do nothing to put the man at ease, and I couldn’t think of a suitable lie on the spot. So instead, I attempted to avoid the issue altogether. Unfortunately, Jean caught my subterfuge and pressed harder.

  “Jean, I answer to a group of men who cannot grasp the complexity or the profundity of the work I am doing. What these men are seeing is pure profit. Yes, they want me to create, at all costs, a cure they can in turn mass produce and then sell to the survivors. If I do not do so, they will kick me to the post-apocalyptic curb and bring in someone else who can do the job. But the real truth, the truth that they don’t quite fully understand is that the only people on this ruined planet capable of creating the cure are in this very building. So I do everything I can to mollify that group. Once they see the end results, the restraints, the secrecy, and the –”

  Before I could leave the room something happened – a not so subtle shift in the color of Jean’s cheeks and forehead. His temperature was rising. Fast.

  “How are you feeling, Jean?”

  I suspected I knew the answer to the question before the words escaped his lips. But this wasn’t possible. Amplification couldn’t occur since no live virus had been injected.

  “Jean… is there anything I should know about? Anything you haven’t told me?” And then it dawned on me. “Had you already been infected?”

  The doctor’s eyes began showing the tell-tale signs of f
ear.

  “Yes.” Jean’s simple answer knocked me in the gut. “After we completed what we thought was the final cure we tested the vaccine by injecting both myself and Bethany with the blood of what she called a Berzerker.”

  “What do you mean?” The name caught me off guard. I remembered Jacob Plummer and Bethany referring to ‘Moaners’ and ‘Screamers’, but this was new… and it made something deep in my gut twist.

  “Before the extraction team came in for us, a mutation of the undead we had already confronted caught up with us. It was bigger than the others, stronger, and…” Jean hesitated as if the act of spilling out the words would bring the beast back. “The lower jaw was… bifurcated and extended.”

  There was one secret that remained trapped deep within the recesses of my mind, something only I knew about. There was one strain of the Mengele Virus held back. The intention of that strain was to be used had the first strain failed. The backup strain was stronger than the original and far less predictable. When The Board wasn’t happy with the results of the original virus, they insisted on the release of the stronger version. I fought them as best I could, but it was in vain. The stronger virus was released and the mutations began.

  I couldn’t confess this, not to someone who already held onto such a fine thread of hope.

  “Our vaccine worked! I swear it,” Jean cried out.

  He had to be lying. No one could have developed a true vaccination for the virus. It just wasn’t possible – at least not without the Heizer Sequence.

  “We were working from the notes of Dr. Lindsay Godwin. But the key was in a file Bethany found.” Jean’s voice was growing raspy, breathy.

  “What file are you referring to?”

  Jean gave me a quizzical look, as if he was digging deeper to locate the cause of my question. “Maybe you should get that information from Bethany. She is the one, after all, who cracked the file. It’s her information to hide, not mine to reveal.”

  Jean neglected to put any finality to his words, leaving them open for prodding and prying.

  “Bethany trusted you implicitly, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. Would that be a fair assessment of your situation?”

  It was all too obvious from the look on Jean’s face that the man wasn’t about to give. He either somehow knew I wouldn’t be willing to use extreme measures to extract the information, or Jean was one courageous man.

  “Jean, if I am to help you I must have that information. Now either you tell me what I need to know, or I’ll be forced to coerce the information out of Bethany.” I had to lie, hoping the lie would reach deep into the conscience of the patient.

  The color of Jean’s face continued to change. Sweat was beading on his forehead. A fever had manifested itself. The glossed-over eyes were a clear indication he was about to find himself suffering one significant change.

  “Something… what have you… done?” Jean coughed.

  “Infected you.” An unintentional chill in my voice made me want to run and hide.

  “But why?” Jean spoke through clenched teeth.

  That was the question of the century. And in order to keep the ZDC ignorant of my scheme, the truth would have to wait.

  I turned to leave the room.

  “No! Wait… please tell me what is going on!” Jean spoke, voice hoarse with rage.

  I slammed the door behind me and leaned against its cold, unfeeling metal. I so badly wanted to be somewhere or someone else. How much longer I could take this I wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 18

  New York City, Unknown Location

  December 2014

  The evening was bitter cold. A severe snowstorm had already dumped nearly two feet of snow on Manhattan. Lesser cities would have been crippled. New York, on the other hand, knew well how to handle emergencies. Nothing was as tough as New York Tough.

  The temperature had dropped well below zero. The homeless of the city had been herded into shelters. Few citizens were brave enough to take on Mother Nature when she was this pissed. And while the vast majority of New York’s citizens were holed up in their homes, the underpinnings of a very bleak future were being set in motion.

  On this night, Professor Danielle Joy Michaels was introducing herself to a select group of specialists that would serve as The Zero Day Collective’s first and last line of defense.

  Among the specialists was Commanding Officer Samuel Leamy. Leamy had been awarded nearly every decoration and commendation a soldier could be given for his exemplary service to his country. And when the ZDC approached the US Marines with a proposition they couldn’t turn down, Commander Leamy’s status as US Government Property was reassigned to an unknown group that had yet to even form an LLC or not-for-profit.

  “Soldiers,” Danielle said. “Due to the delicate nature of my work, my identity is known only to level five clearance, which none of you have. What you do have clearance to know is the nature of your duty. You have all been hand picked and hired to perform a very crucial assignment. That duty is the protection of a very special effort that will become clear to you in a short while.” The professor began a series of slides that introduced the soldiers to a plan that would, eventually, turn the world inside out. Their singular duty was to safeguard that plan. Their justification for following through with their duty? More money than the U.S. Military could ever imagine. There were, however, deeper machinations the soldiers were completely unaware of. That ignorance was merely part of the schemes and devices set in motion by the curator of the plan.

  What these soldiers would soon understand was that they were hired to protect a newly formed conglomeration of power, The Zero Day Collective. The soldiers would learn no names and no positions of any single member of the group. The soldiers were instructed the most important asset of the group was the very woman in front of them.

  During the first few weeks of training, the rumors would begin to spread. Some of the soldiers heard tell that The ZDC was a special gathering of world leaders whose solitary goal was the eradication of terrorists. Other, less plausible, rumors included aliens, alien technology, the creation of a North American superpower, the bombing of various radical religious countries, and the legalization of pot and prostitution.

  Every time a rumor would surface it would summarily be squashed by yet another, crazier rumor. Yet while these rumors spread, not a single fact ever surfaced.

  And the soldiers trained on. Said training was a significant departure from standard military fare. Yes, there was the typical hand-to-hand combat. But this hand-to-hand training, strangely enough, concentrated on the art of beheading. Even weapons training was focused on scoring hits above the shoulders.

  As the training continued the soldiers were constantly shuffled around, never allowing enough time for any two soldiers to get to know, or grow accustomed to, one another. It seemed, to anyone with the desire to spend any time observing the situation, that The Collective was intentionally preventing the development of any relationships – as if they wanted each and every soldier to work as a one-man killing machine.

  And then – as soon as every soldier had developed a competence in every core skill The ZDC required, the soldiers were split up. Some of the trainees remained in New York, stationed at the UN Building. Other soldiers found themselves shipped off to Germany (Munich to be precise) while others were put on a plane to Paris, France. Commander Sam Leamy was sent to Paris, with no orders other than to wait. The only instruction Leamy received was that he would know his duty shortly after his arrival in Paris. When Sam did arrive, he was transported to the outskirts of the city and instructed to patiently wait in a house to which he was given the key and directions.

  When Sam had arrived at the house, he let himself in and made himself at home. The home and the wait were quiet and cold. Eventually Leamy was contacted by a fellow officer, known only as Echo Bravo. Sam was informed he was only to communicate under the handle Delta Alpha. He would eventually learn of two other soldiers in P
aris.

  It didn’t take Sam long to crack the code underneath the wait. He and the three others were awaiting a mark to come through Paris. When that target was spotted, the mark was to be captured and transported, alive, to a yet-to-be-named location.

  Somehow, around the thirty-fifth day of waiting, Sam began to severely miss the regimentation of the corps. Boredom did not suit him well; he grew anxious, restless, angry. Sam attempted to communicate with the other soldiers, but to no avail. And then, on the thirty-ninth day, something happened.

  It began with a single, piercing scream.

  When the first of the many undead attempted to break into the house, Leamy immediately realized that one of the less plausible rumors to float around the trainees wasn’t quite as impossible as it sounded. It appeared The Zero Day Collective was responsible for the evolution of the human race.

  Chapter 19

  Undisclosed Location, New York

  2015

  Both cars sat with their engines cooling, inside the abandoned warehouse that once was a thriving textiles factory. Clothing and other soft goods had been created, delivered, and routed through the city. The building now serving as meeting place was once the epicenter for the industry. Now the machines were silent. Only the distant echo of screams and winter’s wind could be heard

  Sam Leamy stood, backed by his crew, facing the men in the black suits. The stare-down, fueled by testosterone, paranoia, and a bit of denied fear, went on longer than necessary.

  “What information do you have?” Sam finally broke the spell.

  Silence.

  It seemed the staring contest would continue. Sam and his crew were all happy to oblige. Nerves made already itchy trigger fingers even more twitchy. Sellers, Dirt Bag, Ronald… all were ready to reach to their backsides, pull out the weapons of ass destruction they each had concealed, and pick off a face or two. Dom did what he did best when met with overly-confident defensive lines – he flexed his tensile steel muscles and glared back with the cold, menacing eyes of a wrecking machine. They were all ready to do whatever it took to get out of this situation alive and on top.