“Game over!” screamed Reggie after getting back to his feet. He moved away from the zombie after managing to free his arm and snapping its jaw. He stomped on its head and wiped off the blood from his shoe on the zombie’s shirt. He turned his attention back toward Corrine. He couldn’t believe he actually hit her in the head from his distance. It didn’t matter. Now he had her cut of the money–it was the only thing that mattered now.
Chapter Sixteen
Sergeant Hardwick viciously snapped the neck of a zombie that was unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. He tossed it aside and shot a hard glance to General Cochran. “Feel free to get your hands dirty, sir.”
The general shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t forget your place, sergeant.” He watched as the sergeant looked through his field glasses in the direction of the airport. “How’s it looking?”
“Not good. We’ll have to plow through a dozen or so more zombies. Once we get through them, we’ll be at the perimeter of the airport.” He put his field glasses away and continued walking. He wished he had a cold beer in hand as he walked toward the enemy. He felt beer and killing went hand in hand. He couldn’t explain it, but the beer made killing more tolerable. He thought about the last time he had one. Actually, it wasn’t that long ago. He was sitting in a bar with his closest friends, not worrying about the possibility of a zombie outbreak in the area, preparing to go on maneuvers the following week. He didn’t mind going on maneuvers. It gave him a chance to wander the forest playing war games and leaving all his problems back at the base. As he sat drinking his fourth beer, he watched TV while a broadcast informed the viewing area about zombies infesting Illinois. The image of a mall was shown from a news helicopter overhead. It showed an ambulance circling the mall obviously looking for something. The news reporter didn’t know what it was looking for, but he did know a military force was locked inside the mall waiting for their orders. Sergeant Hardwick continued to watch as the camera from the helicopter tried to focus on the front of the mall. Zombies were pressed against the glass doors trying to gain entry. He took a drink and turned to face his friends.
“Mankind has finally found a way to put an end to it all.”
Specialist John Pullen looked at him curiously. “Put an end to what?”
“It’s the end of us. Those damn scientists messed around with people’s DNA and look what they created. They created all those damn zombies. They couldn’t leave well enough alone. They had to keep pushing until they created the perfect fighting machine to doom us all. Do you know why they’re here? It’s because even hell is refusing those monstrosities. Those damn things are unnatural. We used to be the hunters, and look what has happened now–we’re the ones being hunted.” He took another drink. “You watch, before long they’re going to have us out there hunting those things down. How do you even kill something that is already dead?”
“You have to shoot them in the head.”
“What?” asked the sergeant, taking another drink.
“You have to destroy the brain. Shooting them in the head is the most efficient way. You don’t have to get that close to them if you shoot them.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“For real? Don’t you watch horror movies? In every zombie movie out there, they destroy them by either shooting them in the head, or destroying the brain with a knife or a sharp weapon.”
The sergeant thought about it for a moment. What he was saying sounded easy enough, but he was leaving something significant out. What happens if there were dozens of zombies? It could pose a major problem if you were limited on ammo. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. It just takes a headshot to drop them.”
“If it’s so simple, why have the zombies spread into Illinois from Indiana? The zombies got past the Indiana National Guard. Didn’t they know about shooting them in the head?”
“I don’t have an answer for that,” said Specialist Pullen. “I guess they don’t watch horror movies either.”
Sergeant Hardwick looked back toward the TV. To his surprise, somebody must have switched the channel because an old western had replaced the report about the zombies. He ordered another beer and looked around the bar. He wondered if anybody besides Specialist Pullen knew about shooting zombies in the head. It was an important thing to know if somehow the zombie outbreak found its way inside the bar. He looked around wondering if anybody inside would be able to render any kind of help. He guessed everybody would be too drunk to even realize the zombies were inside with them. The thought scared him. The zombies were now in Illinois. It wouldn’t take them long to cross Illinois and make their way across Missouri. He wondered if Missouri would be ready for something like a zombie outbreak or would they fall prey like Indiana and Illinois had done. A sudden realization overcame him. Am I ready for a zombie outbreak in Missouri? He suddenly heard General Cochran calling his name, interrupting his thoughts. He stopped to look back toward him. “What’s the problem, sir?”
“Aren’t you letting that zombie get too close?” he said, pointing to a zombie only a few feet away from him.
The sergeant stared at the zombie for a moment before fully realizing the danger he was about to encounter. He took out his survival knife and swiftly approached the creature and made a shish kabob of its brain. He stood staring in the lifeless eyes of the creature before retrieving his knife and letting it fall to the ground. He turned to look at the general. “Problem solved.” He continued walking toward the airport. He suspected that night at the bar that he would eventually have to face the creatures for himself. He was thankful Specialist Pullen had told him how to kill a zombie. It was too bad he hadn’t taken his own advice. Specialist Pullen was one of the first men to die from the initial attack in Missouri. Not many of his friends survived the first day the zombies arrived. He held his knife firmly in his grasp. He was planning on using it to save ammunition. From what he could tell, the zombies approaching were spread out enough he wouldn’t have to switch to his M16. He knew he had help behind him, but he was out for revenge. The zombies had killed too many of his friends. Now that he was forced to deal with them, he was going to kill as many of them as he could. He wanted to kill ten of them for every one of his friends they killed. It was the new way of the land. You either killed them or they killed you. He peered over his shoulder to see what the general was doing. He was writing something down on a small pad of paper. He laughed. He didn’t know what he was writing but it must be important. He figured he was taking notes about the zombie outbreak so he could one day write a book about it. With any luck, it might even reach the top of the best sellers list. If there was a world left to read it. He hoped it didn’t come to that. He couldn’t imagine an entire world infested with zombies. If he was unfortunate enough to live in such a time, he wondered if he would want to continue living. There wouldn’t be anything left worth living for. He would have to live his days in constant fear of being attacked. It was something he definitely knew he didn’t want to go through. He made a promise to himself. If it came down to a situation where it was him against a world of zombies, he would end his own life.
Chapter Seventeen
Mr. Rooker stood inside the operating room waiting for Doctor Huan Chang to inform him if he was successful with his latest test. He looked at the elderly man sleeping on one of the beds in the corner of the room. “Well, I’m waiting doctor.”
The doctor pushed past him and went over to check on his patient. He wrote something down on a chart and handed it to a nurse who was standing at the foot of the bed. He turned to look at Mr. Rooker. “It’s too soon to tell. We won’t know anything until he turns. Only then can we administer the second dose. I’m certain we got the formula right this time.”
“You’ve been saying that for the last three tests. I thought you said you’ve figured out what’s been going wrong. The country is depending on us to find a cure.”
The doctor pushed past him once again. “Don’t worry you
rself to death. We’ll find the cure to solve the zombie problem. I want this as much as you do, Mr. Rooker. Imagine being able to turn zombies back into humans.”
“I can imagine the power I would ̶ we would have. With the ability to heal the infected, we will control America. I will be running the country and everything in it.”
The doctor stared at him. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We still have work to do. Do we have enough volunteers in case this one is a failure?”
“Let me worry about that. We had several arrive today, and I’m sure we’ll have many more coming tomorrow. If need be, we can also use the workers if we run short.”
“I don’t suppose you’re telling any of them what they’re volunteering for. I hope you’re not forcing them to do this. You know this is a death sentence.”
Mr. Rooker looked away from him to cover his deceit. “I promise you they are volunteering for a chance to make history. The ones who choose not to volunteer are given jobs on the property.”
“Good. I would hate to think I’m doing something unethical.” He watched as the elderly man slowly sat up in the bed and turned his head to stare at him with milky-white eyes. “We’re going to have our answer shortly.” He forced the elderly man back down and injected a yellow serum into his arm. Within a few minutes, the elderly man closed his eyes.
“Did it work?” asked Mr. Rooker, moving closer to the bed.
The doctor opened the elderly man’s eyes to see if they had cleared. He looked at Mr. Rooker. “This could take some time. We didn’t have a definite answer from the last patient for nearly twenty minutes. If his eyes don’t clear within twenty minutes, then we consider it a failure.”
“It’s going to work. I just know it’s going to work this time.”
The doctor looked at the nurse. “Could you please get me a coffee?” He looked at Mr. Rooker. “Would you care for a cup?”
“No thanks. I don’t have time for coffee right now.”
The doctor smiled. “I make time for coffee. It’s one of my guilty pleasures.”
“Check the eyes, doctor. Check them to see if there has been a change.”
“I promise you it’s too soon.” He reluctantly checked the elder man’s eyes. They were still milky-white. He turned to look at Mr. Rooker. “Like I already said ̶ it’s too soon.” The nurse handed him a cup of black coffee. “Thank you, nurse.” He sat in a chair in the opposite corner. “Staring at him isn’t going to speed up the process, Mr. Rooker. I’ll check again once I’m done with my coffee.”
“How can you be so calm right now? Everything we’ve worked for is riding on this test. I’m on pins and needles.”
“I don’t have any choice but to be calm. I can’t hurry the process, nor can I change the result. Standing around worrying about it is only going to cause you to have a coronary. That’s why I have a cup of hot coffee between tests.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Let’s give it ten more minutes.”
Mr. Rooker sighed heavily. He looked at the nurse. “I guess I will take a cup of black coffee, please.” He avoided staring at the clock on the wall. He knew it would only irritate him if he focused on it. He watched as the nurse returned with his coffee and handed it to him. Even though he really didn’t want it, he graciously took it from her and put the cup on the desk. He suddenly heard growling coming from the elderly man. He stole a glance toward Dr. Chang and saw he looked concerned.
“This isn’t the result I was looking for,” Doctor Chang said, grabbing a bone saw and moving toward the elderly man. He quickly took the saw and planted it inside his skull before he had a chance to sit up. The growling stopped. He turned to look at Mr. Rooker. He didn’t have to say a word. He knew Mr. Rooker knew the test was a failure. He moved away from the bed and back across the room until he reached the door. He turned to look at Mr. Rooker. “I haven’t given up yet. I’m going to need a little more time to figure out what’s wrong with the serum. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for another test.” He left the room and made a right into the hallway.
Mr. Rooker sat there trying to hide his disappointment. He had hoped this would be the last test they would have to perform. Now he would have to go through the files to find out who his next test subject was going to be. He knew innocent people’s lives were being wasted, but what other choice did he have? Until he had the cure in hand, he had to do what was needed, even if it took over a hundred people’s lives to find it.
Jewel sat next to Erica in a large room where several other women were busy opening boxes and placing the contents on metal shelves. They were waiting for someone to instruct them what their duties were going to be for the day. They had been assigned to the kitchen area since they didn’t have any other useful skills.
“This doesn’t feel right,” said Erica, continuing to watch the women unload the boxes. “None of them are talking to each other ̶ almost as if this place was some sort of prison.” She saw one of the women look at her and then quickly looked away. “We need to get out of here.”
“And go where, Erica?” asked Jewel, wondering if her friend was right. “Have you already forgotten about all the zombies out there? At least we’re safe here.”
“Are you sure about that? Have you wondered why they separated the old and sick from everybody else? Where did they take them? And what about the questionnaires we filled out? It was pretty specific. I’ve never had to answer that many questions at my doctor’s office.”
“They’re just being thorough, Erica. I’m sure they just want to make sure they have all the medications in stock they need to treat everybody.” As she finished her sentence, an overweight woman wearing a white nurse’s uniform that barely fit her approached them. “There has been a change of plan for the both of you. We have another job for you in the basement.”
Erica stared at her for a moment. “We’re going to be working in the basement? What kind of job will we being doing down there?”
The nurse shot her a disapproving look. “Just follow me, you’ll soon find out.” She led them over to an elevator and waited until the door slid open. She ushered Erica and Jewel inside, and then hit the button for the basement. The door slid close and the elevator made the descent to the basement. The door slid open and the girls were led into a dimly lit hall. The nurse looked at them. “My name is Nurse Jackie. Follow me. You’ve both been assigned to laundry detail. I take it you both have done laundry before.”
Neither Jewel nor Erica liked the idea of working in the laundry area in the basement, especially one where the overhead fluorescent lights were flashing in and out of sequence with each other. They followed Nurse Jackie down the long hall until they reached a large open area with several washing machines and dryers inside. Four women were busy folding sheets when they entered. Nurse Jackie stopped in front of them and said something to them in a low whisper, and then turned to face them. “You should consider this place your new home. Rashida will explain the rules to you, and I expect the both of you to follow them.” She nodded toward Rashida and then left the room.
Jewel and Erica stood silently as a tanned woman approached them. She stared at them trying to figure out if they would be able to handle working in the laundry area. “My name is Rashida Fey. I would welcome you to your new job, but I doubt very much you’ll be here for long. Neither one of you look like you’ve done an honest day’s work in your entire miserable lives. Correct me if I’m wrong about you.” Both Jewel and Erica kept their mouths shut in fear of what Rashida might say in return. “Well, I guess we’re stuck with you for now.” She made her way over to a laundry cart filled with soiled sheets and linens. “This will be your work area. You basically have a simple enough job if you pay attention to what I’m going to explain to you.” She paused long enough to see if they had any questions. Realizing they had little to say, she continued. “All you have to do is take the dirty laundry and put it into one of the washing machines, add the detergent, and then push this button on top. I would say you can’t
screw it up, but they’ve sent us several women in the past that couldn’t follow directions. You’re replacing two women who only lasted a week down here. I guess working with dirty laundry was too much for them.”
“What happened to them?” asked Erica before thinking.
Rashida stared at her for a long moment. “How the hell do you think I know what happened to them? They probably got thrown back outside with the zombies. That’s what happens to lazy people around here ̶ they get thrown back to the zombies. So, I wouldn’t get too comfortable around here, because I’m sure you’ll be outside with the zombies before you know it. Now, I have to get back to folding. Do you think you can handle putting the laundry into the washing machines?” She didn’t wait for them to answer. She made her way back to the other women and began folding sheets.
That night, Erica and Jewel sat in their assigned bedroom, too exhausted to talk. They both skipped dinner and decided to call it a night. Erica lay in her bed staring at the water-stained ceiling. It had formed an outline of a rose with a petal floating down the side. She wondered how long it took for it to form. She heard Jewel sigh from the bed across from her. She wanted to ask her if she was all right. They hadn’t said a word to each other all day. They weren’t allowed to talk in the laundry area, and they were afraid to break that rule because Rashida never took her eyes off of them. She turned her attention to the walls. They were painted a flat white with pencil marks covering them as if a child had done it. In the corner, she saw a small spider resting in the middle of its web.
The Z-Day Trilogy (Book 5): United States of Zombie Page 11
