by Jay Zano
“Stand down, Officer!” one of the soldiers yells out. O’Malley, filled with fear, replies, “Screw you, this is my chief! You stand down!”
Chief Franklin, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth, puts his hand on O’Malley’s shoulder and says, “At ease, Officer.” O’Malley takes a more relaxed posture, and the chief continues, “I’ll take it from here. Go back to your post.” O’Malley gives his chief a nod and starts to walk away.
“And thanks for the smoke! It will be our little secret.”
“You got it, Chief,” says O’Malley. He smiles, turns back and walks away. The chief redirects himself to the men who have him surrounded.
“Well, men, what’s next?”
“Sir,” one of the men yells. “Sergeant Major Braxton would like us to escort you to his quarters.”
The chief smiles for a second and says, “Well, couldn’t he have just asked?”
“We’re not asking, sir. Come with us!”
“Lead the way,” the chief says, smiling.
“This way, sir!”
Three men line up in front of the chief, while two men take a flank each and two guard the rear. They head over to the military comms station on the opposite side of tower two.
The chief enters a tent, held at gunpoint by three men.
“Chief Franklin!” says the sergeant major. “You have some explaining to do.”
“Hello, Sergeant Major. With the hospitality I’ve been shown, I’m not sure I’ll be explaining much.”
Braxton’s eyes well up in anger, and he rushes over to Chief Franklin.
“You think this is a joke? I should have you thrown in the stockade!”
“Sergeant Major, do you want to tell me what all this is about?”
“Don’t play with me, Franklin! I know you and your men are behind this little show. Do you realize the risk to national security you just caused? Now, you’re going to tell me about the plan you and your little monkeys inside have to get out of the building.”
“With all due respect, Sergeant Major, I’m just as confused as you as to how these guys are doing what they’re doing, much less how they plan to get out.”
“Bullshit! We know you talked to him. Now, I’m going to ask one last time. Tell me what you know. I’m trying to save the lives of thousands of people here, Chief! If you don’t tell me, I have the authority to lock you up for two years without due process. Did you know that?”
“I understand your capabilities perfectly clearly,” the chief replies grimly. “A biological agent got into my city somehow, after all, and without this ‘little show’, it seems like you’d have already covered up the fallout, even if it meant killing a few Americans. All in the name of national security, right? No disrespect, Sergeant Major, but you can kiss my big, black, New York ass!”
“Get him out of here!” Braxton booms, and two MPs slip their hands under the chief’s armpits. He pushes them off.
“Get your hands off me, I can walk!”
He walks out of the tent with the MPs trailing close behind.
CHAPTER 23
WHAT NOW?
FICK, VEGAS AND I scramble to Zook’s elevator. It’s clear right now, but we know zombies are right around the corner. I quickly wipe the ID card off on my pants, clearing off the blood, and swipe it. Breathing deep, I punch a button.
“It lit up,” I murmur, and we all stand there staring at this little, illuminated button. Now, all we have to do is survive the time it takes for the elevator to arrive. Fick is clearly uncomfortable.
“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!” he whispers, like a three-year-old that has to pee.
“Shh, Fick,” I reply. I’m not sure how much time passes before the doors open. It might be ten seconds or it might be ten minutes. Ding! We pile in and the door closes behind us as we collectively exhale a long sigh of relief. A little less tense, we take a few seconds to relax behind the safety of the closed elevator doors.
“Okay, let’s stay with the plan,” I say. “Fick, how does it look on Zoe’s floor?”
Fick stands in silence for a second, then says, “Oh man, I left the Surface in the fishbowl!”
“What? Dammit Fick, you’re killing me! You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right! We lost Matt and Sid because of you! You’re useless.”
I know being hard on Fick isn’t particularly helpful, but in the moment, I can’t help it.
“I’m going to fix it!” Fick says as he punches the ‘open door’ button on the elevator. The door opens, and he spots the waiting zombies, led by Matt and Sid. They turn slowly as he begins stabbing at the ‘close door’ button.
“Come on, come on!” he whines as the door closes.
“Well, you almost got us killed again,” I snipe. “You’re batting a thousand here, Fick! Any more great ideas?”
“Hey, let’s all calm down” Vegas chimes in.
“What do we do now?” Fick asks.
“Okay, okay, let me think,” I say, pausing like I’m on the brink of a fabulous idea. Really, I have no idea what to do. Without eyes in the sky, we have no idea what we’ll be running into when the doors open. Frankly, without Matt and Sid, we’re totally screwed! Suddenly, the elevator starts to move up.
“It’s moving!” Vegas cries. “You think it’s Zook?”
“Not many people have access to his elevator,” Fickle replies.
“No way it’s Zook,” I reply. “That asshole is long gone. Be prepared for anything!”
Vegas and I get into an offensive stance, with our weapons raised high. Fick doesn’t have shit; I’d put good money on him not surviving much longer. Hell, I may kill him before we get off this elevator.
The elevator continues its way up… 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75! Ground zero of the outbreak. Oh, we’re screwed for sure.
“No, not here,” Fick says.
“Be ready!” I whisper, but as the door opens, we’re greeted by a shotgun barrel. I throw my hands up, and only then do I see it’s Zoe. She sees it’s us and smiles.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she says. I’m overwhelmed with excitement when I see her, and we gaze into each other’s eyes as I step out of the elevator. She lowers her gun, inviting me in closer, and I step in, wetting my lips, closing my eyes and leaning in for a kiss.
“Woah, woah!” she exclaims as she pushes me back. “We aren’t there yet, Tyson! Now, why in the hell do you all have cell phones strapped to your chests?”
“Dammit!” I say out loud, realizing that the entire world just saw me getting rejected. “Everyone, pause your video.” I look over to Zoe and explain, “We’re livestreaming to show the whole world what’s happening here.”
“Well, you don’t know the half of it. I’m pretty confident that Zook was losing his contract with the military and he had his pet, Jacobs, purposely unleash a biological weapon in the building.”
“I knew it!” I crow. “And I always knew that scumbag was evil! We’re going to blow the lid off his fake-ass empire.”
“Well, what now, boys?”
“Zook’s penthouse!” I say excitedly. I step back in the elevator and hold the door open for Zoe.
“Milady,” I say as she steps in.
“You’re such a gentleman.”
Jeffords makes his way into a local bar, where he sees everyone is crowding around the TVs. He bellies up and leans in to the bartender.
“Whiskey.”
“Whiskey, coming up.”
Jeffords pulls out his phone and places it next to him on the bar. The bartender slides down a shot glass full of whiskey, and Jeffords reaches out his hand, grabs it and slams it back.
“Keep ’em coming,” he says, and the bartender nods. Jeffords sits on the bar stool, angling himself to get a clear view of the TV. The people in the bar are captivated by the livestream. For a bar that’s usually loud and boisterous, you could hear a pin drop right now.
“Pretty screwed up!” the bartender says, as he slides over another whiskey.
“You have no idea,” Jeffords responds, slamming back another shot.
The elevator door opens on the penthouse suite, and we step out. Zoe takes the lead; man, she is even hotter handling that gun! We move into different rooms, making quick work of checking for zombies.
“Clear!” Zoe says from one of the rooms.
“Clear,” says Vegas from the opposite side.
“All clear here,” I say, walking into the kitchen area. Man, Zook lived large, up here. This place is a mansion!
“I have a locked door!” Fickle exclaims. Zoe quickly walks over, telling Fick to stand back, and kicks the door open. Throwing up her shotgun, she walks in.
“All clear!”
All astonished, we slowly follow her in. We’re now standing in Zook’s security room and holy shit, we thought our server room was decked! There must be fifty monitors here.
“Hey, guys,” Fickle calls out. “There are people down there. Survivors!” Sure enough, as we walk up to take a closer look at the screens, you can see a couple of people hiding, fighting or just running for their lives in the building below.
“We have to help them!” Fick says.
“We can’t help them,” I respond. “We can barely help ourselves!”
“Yeah, it’s suicide!” Vegas agrees. “It’s a miracle we even made it up here.”
“We can’t leave them behind!”
“Listen to me, Fick,” I say calmly. “We can’t help them; we’re almost out of here, almost safe.”
“You’re so full of shit, Tyson!” Fickle howls, his voice cracking. “You fed us this line about humanity and how saving Zoe was important because she was a person, but it turns out you just wanted to get in her pants!”
“Hey man, I never said that!” I turn to look at Zoe. “I never said that.”
She looks over to Fick and says, “He’s right.”
“Wait, not you too!” I reply.
“If we leave people behind, we’re no better than Zook and his little weasel, Jacobs! If we turn our backs on these people, on their families, we’ll never be able to live with ourselves.”
Shit, now Fick has Zoe all fired up for the greater good!
“Okay, okay, I’m in,” I say reluctantly. “But we’re going to do this my way!” I look over to Vegas, who nods in agreement. “First, though, I need to do something. Fick, come over here.” Fickle walks over slowly, almost as if he’s going to get in trouble.
“Hey, Tyson, sorry, I just think it’s the—”
“Shut up, Fick. You’re right, I’m wrong. We need to save as many people as possible. Now, stand up straight!”
Fick does as I ask, and I hit ‘record’ on the camera still taped to his shirt.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. As you can see, we’ve been dealing with some pretty screwed-up shit thanks to the great Fredrick J. Zook and his asshole-kissing buddy, Jeremy Jacobs. Turns out Zook has been working with our star-spangled military to create a biological weapon that’s capable of decimating entire continents by turning them into brainless zombies. He’s created this weapon right here, in the good ol’ USA’s backyard, and when life didn’t go his way, he unleashed it onto his own people. To shut them up, to show them his power, to prove he always gets his way, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, he took his ball and went home, leaving us here to die! So, I’m here to tell the entire world, right now, that there is a real terrorist amongst us, and he’s one of us, an American. His name is Fredrick J. Zook, and he’s responsible for the deaths of thousands of Americans. Now, we’re working our asses off to save as many as we can, but we need more time. So, those who are supposed to be listening, give us more time, and pray for us. We’ve already lost so much. God bless you, and god bless the United States of America.”
CHAPTER 24
FIGURING IT OUT
ZOOK WATCHES AS the stream that has just exposed him fades to darkness. He slowly puts his hands over his face, leans back and takes a deep breath.
“Sir,” says Jacobs, approaching his boss, “we need to stay focused. Our plan is in motion. Americans will be forever in your debt, for your patriotism.”
“Oh, shut up, Jacobs!” Zook squeals. “Did you just watch what I watched? We’re done for! And how did he get access to my penthouse?”
“Sir, stay the course. You know the protocol. There’s no way anyone leaves that building alive.”
“They don’t have to leave! They’re broadcasting live for the whole damn world to see. How the hell are they doing that, Jacobs? All communication is supposed to be cut off!”
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve confirmed that all traffic in and out of the building is down. They must have found an alternate route.”
“Yes, but how, you moron?”
“I don’t know, sir, but you do always hire the best and brightest. Obviously, they figured it out.”
“‘Best and brightest’? Go screw yours… Wait! A couple of months ago, I signed a purchase order for an alternate secure fiber connection because I thought the government was wiretapping me. I also requested it not be listed in the schematics, so no one would know it existed. Get whoever is in charge at ground zero on the phone. We may be able to spin this, yet. Let’s make it all that little jerk-offs fault. What was his name?”
“Tyson, sir.”
“Well, ‘Tyson’, you’re going to learn not to screw with Zook. Come on, Jacobs. Make some calls!”
“Yes, sir!”
From a stool in the local bar, Jeffords watches as the feed fades to black. The entire bar is eerily quiet, and everyone seems deeply disturbed by the events unfolding. An enormous, rough-looking biker with long hair and a grizzled beard stands and speaks in a deep voice.
“Screw Zook! That asshole is a terrorist! I say we all march the hell down there and bust some zombie skulls!”
The bar remains quiet for a few seconds, until a squirrelly, nerdy guy slowly rises to his feet and walks up to the biker, who is double his size. He holds out his hand, and the biker shakes it.
As he and the biker lock hands, the squirrelly guy hollers, “You don’t screw with New Yorkers! Come on, everyone, let’s go!”
The entire bar erupts in anger and marches out the door towards Zook Towers.
As the bar empties, Jeffords remains on his stool. He pulls out his phone and starts typing a text. It reads, ‘Helicopter extraction delayed for now, stay tuned’. He hits send, looks down at his empty shot glass, looks over to the bartender and raises an eyebrow. The bartender nods, walks over with a bottle of whiskey and tops off the glass.
“How come you’re not running out with the mob?” he asks.
Looking deep into his glass, Jeffords responds, “I’m better served right here. You just keep that TV on and the refills coming.”
“Roger that,” responds the bartender.
From the comm center at ground zero, Braxton watches as I blame the military and Zook for the zombie outbreak inside Zook Towers. As the video fades to black, he looks around, frustrated. He walks over to a table covered with building schematics and comm equipment, and in a burst of anger, clears it off with a single swipe of his hand.
“Can anyone in here tell me how the hell, with all this equipment, all this intel, this guy is still broadcasting for all to see?”
Everyone pauses to look up, but it’s clear that no one has any answers.
“Let’s go, people!” Braxton bellows. “I need to know how we can shut down his feed!” He stops for a second, recalling Tyson’s exact words. “It was a code! He’s buying time.” He rushes over to an MP. “Go get Chief Franklin and bring him to my tent.”
“Yes, sir!”
As Braxton and the MP go to leave, a member of the comms team yells out, “Excuse me, Sergeant Major?”
“What?”
“I have a Jeremy Jacobs on the line, he says he’s calling on behalf of Mr. Fredrick Zook.”
Braxton stares for a moment before responding, “Send the comm to my tent!”
CHAPTER 25
SAVING LIVES, KILLING ZOMBIES
“OKAY, EVERYONE, CIRCLE up in the security room.”
I’m suddenly enraged, after my speech. Just the thought that Zook and people like him have such disregard for everyday people pisses me off. He puts himself above everyone else, and it makes me sick. He threw us away like trash! I need to focus; I can’t let emotion overwhelm me now. We already lost Sid and Matt, and I’m not losing anyone else.
“Okay, guys, here’s the plan. First thing we need to do is go for some easy wins.” I scan the monitors looking for some movement on the closer floors. “There!” I cry, pointing to three people barricaded in an office suite with five zombies outside their door. “What floor is that?”
“It’s floor seventy,” Zoe responds.
“Okay. Fick, you stay here. Vegas, Zoe and I will—”
“Hell no, I’m not staying here!” Fickle says matter-of-factly.
“Fick, you don’t have it in you, man,” I reply. “You’re a liability out there, and I’m not sure we can protect you. The best play is for you to—”
“Screw that, Tyson. You’re not my mother! I know I haven’t exactly contributed so far, but seeing these people locked down and scared, I want to be there for them. I’m going!”
“Okay,” I say, shrugging. I can’t exactly ban him when he persuaded me to go in the first place. “Well, I guess we’re all going. We need to stick together, anyway.”
Zoe chimes in, “I’m going to the lobby!”
“Umm, hell no…” I respond. She cocks her shotgun. “Well, we can talk about it,” I say nervously. “Let’s talk about it!”
“See there?” she says, pointing to the screen that shows security guards locked in a room. “Those are my friends, my coworkers. They’re locked in there, waiting to die, because they know the protocol is to do just that. But they don’t know what I know; that this breach, this infection, was intentional. I need to go get them. Plus, they’ll be able to help us; they’re trained for this!”
