Die Zombie Die (I Zombie Book 3)

by Jack Wallen

  The horde was still down the block.

  The next task was simple: Drive across the street, pull around to the back of the building, and hope like Hell the others had completed their job.

  They hadn’t. In fact, Sellers and Dirt Bag were nowhere to be found.

  “Fuck me!” Dom punched the steering wheel. With the windows down and the car off, the space around the car and the building was deadly silent. He had hoped to, at least, hear something – some noise to indicate his friends were still alive inside.

  Nothing.

  At least not until the sound of moans and screams drew near. The zombies had arrived.

  The sounds of Sellers’s and Dirt Bag’s taunting voices were the next to be heard. The dynamic duo was leading the horde into the warehouse.

  “Fucking brilliant! Sam, you trained ‘em well.” The compliment went unheard.

  When his accomplices raced out of the back of the building, the driver fired up the car and prepared to speed off. Sellers and Dirt Bag were running, full-bore, away from the building. As they jumped into the vehicle they both filled the air with desperate cries of…

  “Go!”

  Dom wasted no time punching the gas and ripping out of the parking lot. The getaway car just hit the pavement of the road as the C4 ignited and the building exploded in a ball of orange and red flames. The blast rocked the car enough to remind the crew who was the one true boss.

  And as quickly as it erupted, the blast was nothing more than a memory, growing smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror.

  Chapter 39

  Undisclosed Location

  July 6, 2015

  “Seriously Danielle, I’ve had enough of these shit-bags ruining my life. This one comes along and gets all undead pedophile with my son. I don’t want this fucker around me!” Bethany emphasized the last bit by kicking the corpse in the head.

  She was right – or at least had the right to make the demand. So I instructed Ronald to help me drag the dead beast out of the room.

  Honestly, there was very little I could do, not without the proper equipment. About all that could be done was a rudimentary examination to see if The ZDC had done anything obvious to this particular species of zombie.

  Species? Really? I certainly doubted evolution would have worked so quickly that in a few months these things had progressed far enough from man they would warrant their own species. Although I was able to force evolution down a darker path, without a helping hand, evolution would take a much slower route once on its own.

  Homo Zombius?

  Good God, the very idea that I was entertaining such ridiculous notion…

  “What are we doing with the body?” Ronald asked.

  “Taking it as far away from Bethany as we can. I want to be able to examine it, so we need to find some place that at least has decent lighting and a few of the tools I require.”

  We eventually hauled the corpse to a veterinary hospital. With the body on an examination table, I could at least see any possible changes the beast may have undergone. Of course, with what had just happened, there was no time for autopsy. We had to return back to Bethany immediately. There was no way I was going to chance leaving that woman alone. Not now. No way.

  “So why did this thing not swallow that baby’s head whole?” Ronald asked nervously.

  When I looked up at the man, his face was lined with genuine concern. Up until now, I’d felt as if Ronald were only capable of following orders – an emotionless, militaristic robot. Now? Well, it seemed the man may actually own a heart.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  Somehow Ronald got a glimpse underneath the veneer and witnessed a greater truth hiding within. I hesitated, not sure what, or how much, I would let go.

  “I believe The Zero Day Collective wants that baby at all costs, and they want him alive. They have either developed the means to re-program the zombies –”

  “The fuck you mean, re-program?” Ronald spat the question in revulsion.

  “Our cells each hold a rudimentary programming for certain functions. There have been biologists and chemists that have spent their entire careers focusing on the programming and re-programming of cells. It is not completely beyond the realm possibility that The ZDC could have developed the means to train these monsters, on a cellular level, to execute a single behavior – to retrieve that baby.”

  I held my breath and voice to make sure the next sentence punched Ronald in the gut, hard.

  “If they get their hands on Jacob – it’s game over.”

  I started toward the door, until the soldier grabbed my arm.

  “What do you mean game over?”

  “I mean, Ronald, if The ZDC gets their hands on Jacob, it’s over for mankind. That baby is the key to their kingdom. With him they will wipe the evolutionary slate clean.” I could tell Ronald was clueless. “Jacob’s DNA contains a miracle. He was born immune to the virus. With that baby and his immunity taken out of the hands of the population, The ZDC will reboot the human race.”

  “Would that really be such a bad thing? Mankind has needed a do-over for some time now.” The wiry man allowed a grin to ooze across his face.

  “Maybe in your world of conspiracy and fiction, Ronald. But the reality is, you fight Mother Nature and you lose. We can no more successfully re-engineer the human race as we can bring back the dinosaur or rediscover fire.”

  Ronald wasn’t buying what I was selling.

  “Look… what they want to do is play God and start humanity from Day Zero, thereby erasing millions of years of evolution, of education, and growth. The understanding was the infection had a shelf-life that would cleanse the planet of all but a select few humans. Once the virus ran its course, the survivors would leave their sealed havens and start mankind over. It was a complete reboot of the human race. That cannot happen without serious repercussions. Those monsters are the first of many mistakes that will happen. We have to stop them from succeeding, otherwise we condemn ourselves to a future where the undead are no more than slaves waiting to rise up and revolt.”

  The painted picture was like an Edvard Munch painted with blood and mud. Even with firsthand knowledge of the Christmas yet to be, all I could think of was curling up and dying.

  “How do you even know The ZDC survived? It was a fucking blood bath at the U.N. Building. The halls were overrun with the walking dead. No one could have escaped that.”

  I stopped, just short of the door to Bethany’s room and turned sharply to Ronald. “If there was one thing I learned during my time with those people, it was to never underestimate them. They had a contingency for everything. There is no doubt in my mind the four horsemen of The Zero Day Collective made it out alive.”

  Ronald started to protest before I turned and walked on.

  When I entered the room, Bethany was sitting at the table with a laptop in front of her. Baby Jacob was wrapped up tightly and napping in the hand-fashioned crib.

  “Ronald, I need you to locate a few things for me.” Bethany’s demands took our protector by surprise.

  “Oh, okay. What do you need?”

  Bethany had already scrawled out a list on a piece of scrap paper. She handed it over to the soldier.

  “And how much do you know about redirecting power grids?” The mother of invention offered up a wicked-evil smile that actually made me feel, oddly enough, at ease. There was something special brewing in that brilliant mind of hers I was sure of it. It was strange, I was so used to being thought of as the brightest in any group, but the scope of my genius paled in comparison to hers. To be honest, I was happy to not have to carry that burden at the moment.

  Shortly after Ronald left the room to track down whatever it was Bethany required, the sounds of a vehicle excited the air around us. Bethany and I stared at one another, both joy and trepidation igniting sparks of curiosity. I wanted to hold out what little optimism I had and assume the crunching gravel heralded the return of Sam. Unfortunately, there were no guarantees n
ow. That sound could be anyone or anything. Hell, for all I knew, The ZDC could have already tracked us down.

  My mind, for some odd reason, reached back to my nerdier past and thought of the Klingon phrase ‘It’s a good day to die.’ It was not. I hoped to never think of or see the day that turned out to be a good day to die.

  The vehicle came to a stop and the sound of the engine was silenced. One, two, three doors opened… and finally a fourth. Just as I could make out three pairs of distinct footsteps, Sellers’s voice gave birth to hope.

  “DB, find a cart and bring the food inside.”

  Bethany and I both exhaled stale air and relief. Everything was going to be okay – at least so long as we had a meal to enjoy with friendly company.

  When Dom came into the room carrying Sam, those comforting, warm thoughts quickly disappeared.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” Bethany jumped up with a start.

  “He was attacked. A Screamer caught him and tried to crack his skull open. He’s still alive, just out cold,” Dom explained as he carefully placed his cargo on the nearest couch.

  Bethany knelt beside the couch and held Sam’s hand. I made my way to the end of the man that most concerned me. Outside of exterior damage to the skull, there was very little I could ascertain. I needed an MRI to make sure his brain hadn’t been damaged. Where I was going to locate an MRI was about as good a question as I could come up with at the moment. But if we were to know, with one-hundred-percent accuracy, that Sam was okay, I needed more than what I had at my disposal.

  “We have to find a hospital.” My statement stunned the room. Everyone looked at me as if my head just cracked open to reveal the face of death itself.

  The silence hung in the air like a tragic mystery. But no one had a chance to give me a reason why my request was out of the question. Both Dirt Bag and Dom cocked their heads.

  Something was amiss.

  Finally, cutting through the awkward silence, were the painfully familiar sounds of the undead – lots of them.

  As if on cue, the soldiers locked and loaded and started searching for windows to shoot from… all but Dom, who stood between me and Bethany. He needn’t speak a word for me to get his message.

  “Bethany dear, we need to hide you and Jacob somewhere safe.” I held my voice in its calmest check.

  “Why? What’s –”

  “Bethany, look at me.” Calm. Calm. Calm. “These things aren’t here for our brains.”

  The nervous mother took in a shaky breath that filled her with fear.

  “I believe The Collective has managed to reprogram the zombies for a singular purpose.” I reached out for Bethany’s hand. She jerked it away.

  “Sweetheart, you have to protect Jacob at all costs. Too much is at stake.”

  We were running out of time. The sounds of the undead were growing louder.

  “I know.” Bethany’s hysterics were starting to soothe. All around us, glass was being broken to give the shooters’ bullets easier access to the brains of the beasts.

  It was about to get loud and ugly, fast.

  “I don’t have time to explain everything, Bethany. Just know that Jacob is very special and must remain safe. We have to hide you.”

  The first shot was heard.

  “Now!”

  We scrambled around the house until Bethany came across an almost invisible attic entryway. The spring-loaded staircase was perfect. I pulled down the steps and motioned for Bethany to carry Jacob upwards.

  “Make sure the boy remains quiet. If he is heard, they will get him.”

  The mother and child began the climb up the ladder.

  “Bethany,” my voice issued from my lips before I even realized the words were there. Bethany stopped and turned, her face drawn and tired, but retaining a beauty like I’d never seen before. Her curly red hair cast a brilliant halo around her face. “ Thank you for everything you’ve done and everything you will do.”

  I handed Bethany a precious container. Within the sealed box was the cure for the virus. “Keep this safe with you. Other than your son, this is man’s last hope.” She grasped the box and stared at it with the exact reverence necessary. “Be brave, Bethany.”

  I knew why the words had to be said. Bethany, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. She simply smiled at me, turned, and climbed into the attic. I slowly returned the stairs and tucked the pull chain out of sight. There was no reason to leave the undead even the slightest clue as to the whereabouts of their target.

  For the briefest of seconds, my heart was filled with dread. Everything had come unraveled so quickly and it wanted to wash over me in one cold, painful wave. What The Collective had done, what Lindsay had done… what I had done. This corruption of order was my doing. At least in part.

  The repeated sounds of gunfire refused to allow me to wallow too much in guilt and shame. The frontline needed as much in the way of fighters as it could get. I couldn’t say how effective I would be, but another weapon on the line couldn’t hurt.

  I met the soldiers and was immediately handed a gun. Without the slightest hesitation I ran to a window, pushed the barrel through, and opened fire.

  It’s surprising how easy it is to kill. It’s just aim and a pull of the trigger. One minute there is a living being in your sights, and the next there isn’t.

  Physically it was simple. Emotionally? Not so much. Even when the target was the walking dead, with every hit my heart was wracked with guilt.

  “Fuck,” Sellers screamed. “There are too many of them!”

  “Blasphemy.” Dirt Bag actually found it in him to toss off a joke, just before a screamer reached in through his window and pulled him from the safety of the house.

  There was a rise of rage on the other side of the wall, followed by the all-too brief cries for help from Dirt Bag.

  Sellers cried out and began firing with a renewed hatred.

  We had lost the first of our tiny army. And without a commander, I feared it wouldn’t be the last. At that very moment I wanted a Hollywood-esque deus ex machina moment where I turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, ready to lead us to victory.

  It didn’t happen. There would be no Hollywood ending.

  “Heads up.” Sellers issued the warning, before flinging a hellfire grenade through her window. The tiny bomb went off and another wave of roaring hit the house – just before a flaming arm reached through the window. Fortunately Sellers was not within reach and the arm disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  The crackle of fire and the smell of sour barbecue assaulted each of us. Those unaccustomed to the stench of burning human flesh did their best to avoid the vile smell. It didn’t work. Once a molecule of that smoke landed on the olfactory, it was there for the long haul.

  “Listen,” Sellers’ voice broke the brief silence. “I think we got ‘em all.”

  Everyone dropped back into silent mode. I couldn’t help but hold my breath, the added internal stillness giving my hearing a bit of a boost.

  Sellers was right. The undead had been silenced. We had defended our little fortress… for the moment. I was fairly certain, however, that it was only a matter of time before another attack was launched.

  A soft moan was heard. The sound frightened the air out of me, causing me to jerk in a lungful of fresh oxygen. Sellers scanned the area outside of the windows. Courtney immediately pulled her weapon back in, turned her back to the wall, and slid down to the floor. She tried to suppress her sobs, but we all heard. We knew full well why she wept.

  Dirt Bag.

  Without saying a word, I wrapped my arms around the woman and held her. At first she sat with her arms rigid at her sides. Eventually her resolve broke and she returned the embrace.

  “I can’t take this,” Sellers whispered into my ear. I knew what she just shared was a morsel not to be spread around. The hard-as-nails woman revealed to me a chink in her armor – something her less-than-feminine fellow soldiers would have a tough time understanding. I understood. Perfect
ly.

  “Sam!” Dom’s voice broke the spell Sellers had us all under.

  I turned to see the commander holding himself up with the help of a door jam. He looked weak, but he was upright. That was about the best bit of news we could use at the moment. Without any sort of leadership we didn’t stand a chance of making it through this Hell.

  Sellers instantly switched from woman to soldier, not an ounce of hurt registering on her face. How I envied that at the moment.

  “What’s the situation?” Leamy’s voice gained strength with every syllable.

  Courtney closed in on the commander. “First, numerous waves of the undead neutralized. One casualty.”

  Sam scanned the room, disappointment quickly registering in his eyes.

  “Fuck! Any civilians we could recruit?” Sam’s question was lobbed into the room.

  “None so far. When we arrived in the town, it was empty. That status has not changed, but we haven’t gone door to door,” Dom spoke up.

  “Out of the question,” Sellers shot back. “We have no idea how close the next undead wave is.”

  “We have no idea if there’ll be a next wave. Look, it’s getting dark outside. Chances are slim there will be any more attacks tonight.” Sam took charge once again.

  Dom stood and moved to the center of the room. The look on his face was pure incredulity. “Are you kidding? When was the last time you watched a horror movie? Dark is when they do come. The bogeyman doesn’t show up when the sun shines.”

  Sam looked like he wanted to laugh. We all knew the new bogeyman had no clock-in time. Zombies came and went as they pleased. The undead agenda was without time frame. But Dom did have a point.

  “We’ll set up a watch and get some sleep. If anyone or anything attacks, we’ll be ready.”

  It was my time to chime in. “What about Bethany? Should she remain hidden in the attic?” For my question, all I received was a wall of blank stares. It felt like I had just crossed some unknown boundary – like I reminded our dwindling army we had a princess among us that had to be protected at all costs. Given the circumstances, that kind of isolationist behavior surprised me. I wanted to shout out ‘Shouldn’t we all be working together?’ I refrained.