Zombified (Book 1): The Head Hunter

by Sowder, Kindra

  Jenkins nodded, knowing he had to add this to the mission he already had planned at Station Four. There was no way around it. There were plenty of humans living within the town and its walls, and they only needed a few. Or at least he hoped. He didn’t want to deplete the humans too severely since they did need them to continue to live, and humans took a full eighteen years to be viable to feed on.

  “All right, I know what we need to do, Doctor Gellar. Don’t you worry about a thing. When we make it to Station Four two sunsets from now, I will make certain you have what you need.”

  Her gaze flitted to his, her gray eyes studying him as one milky white tear ran down her cheek. Jenkins reached up and wiped it away, rubbing the slightly tacky substance between his thumb and forefinger.

  “You need to feed as well, Doctor. I suggest you get one of the donor bags that we have in stock to keep yourself going. We need you.”

  “I’m not even sure I can save them, Jenkins. What if I fail?”

  He placed a large hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “As long as you have candidates for this mission ready for me, there is no way you will.”

  ***

  Near the Kentucky Dam

  July 2027

  Station 4

  Steam billowed in the communal bathroom shared by the women of Station Four as Jenny walked out of one of the many shower stalls that lined the walls, running a plush white towel over her damp hair with another wrapped around her. She had spent the entire time thinking about what Misty had told her about her mother, confiding in her that one day she could become sick just like her. It made her wonder how the Station would handle the mental illness if it were to occur. She didn’t believe that medication for this existed anymore, but she wasn’t certain there wasn’t, either. Maybe, just maybe, with her education in botany, she could find something to help her friend before it was too late. From what she remembered hearing about schizophrenia, it normally surfaced in a person’s late teens or early twenties, but there was never a way to be sure when that would happen.

  She was alone in the bathroom when she had gone in, letting the hot water run down the back of her neck and her spine to soothe the stress and anxiety that was threatening to take over. Being in a new place around new people doing new things was beginning to take its toll on her, and she had spent so much time alone she wasn’t sure how to handle the tension. Now there were two others in there and, when she rounded the corner, they both looked at her and snickered with a secret jest. Jenny rolled her eyes and made her way to the mirror, checking her exposed flesh for any injuries obtained while working in the orchard. She recognized the girls from the meeting of the new arrivals where she had stated she believed in the Head Hunter, but had they heard the conversation with Misty, Mark, and Joshua afterward? She had barely noticed them then, glancing right over them, but she never forgot a face no matter how fleeting.

  Both of them were blond with pale skin and smooth hands. Privileged. Jenny’s eyebrows rose in amusement. Soft hands were hard to find within the Stations, meaning these girls had to be related to those within G.O.D. Maybe even a scientist or two and they had ended up within the walls of Station Four because their parents wanted them to learn some humility. Jenny only hoped that was the case but, as they looked at her and giggled again, she knew they hadn’t learned a thing. Jenny pushed a few strands of loose wet hair from her face and looked down at the gray speckled counter top, sleek and clean. Perfect sterility in a place surrounded by filth and decay. Something they could control amidst the chaos. When the giggles sounded again, she placed her towel on the counter and opened her mouth, not looking up at the girls. Her time in the Dead Zone had all but killed her tolerance for arrogance and idiocy, and her father had always taught her that willful ignorance was something never to be tolerated.

  “Can I help you ladies?” she asked, letting her disdain for them fill her voice and jab into their shameless laughter.

  They quieted, their laughing dying as the echoed pitches did the same. One of the blonds turned to Jenny and came to stand beside her, tapping one elegant fingernail against the countertop. Jenny to roll her eyes once again. Definitely a privileged pair, and she already had to fight the urge to become violent, getting into trouble only one day into her life there. Jenny followed the length of the girl’s slim arm and up to her face. Her hair was wet and sticking to her neck, the white towel around her slightly damp and her blue eyes studying Jenny with a condescending gaze. She just stared at her, causing Jenny to lose her patience.

  “I hate repeating myself. So . . . what do you want?”

  The girl smiled, her small white teeth perfectly straight. It was all Jenny could do not to punch that pretty face of hers just because of how she watched her like she was scum that she would wipe off the bottom of her shoe. Pond scum, even. But that wasn’t why Jenny had a problem with the girl. It was the way she carried herself. It was like she was better than everyone and that gave her the justification to treat others like they were below her. Jenny clenched her hand into a fist against the cool material, slightly slick with the steam that had condensed on its surface.

  “Aren’t you the new girl that says the Head Hunter exists?” When Jenny didn’t answer, the girl’s grin broadened and her eyes sparkled in sickening delight. “Oh yeah, that is you. My friend and I were just saying how stupid you must be to believe in it. You might just want to get your head checked.” As she said the last few words, she reached her arm up to tap that same finger on Jenny’s right temple.

  Out of impulse, Jenny’s arm snapped up and took the girl’s fragile wrist in her hand, squeezing it so hard the girl cried out in surprise and pain. She didn’t like being touched without express permission, especially when it was someone she didn’t know. It was a side effect of fighting for your life in the Dead Zone. And it would only be so easy to snap the girl’s arm.

  “I take it you’ve never been to the Dead Zone, have you?” Jenny asked the girl. When the girl didn’t answer, she squeezed harder on the limb. The girl’s friend came to her side to attempt to break Jenny’s hold but she didn’t have the skill. Jenny shot her a look filled with rage, telling her to back off without having to say a word. She backed away a couple of feet, hands out in front of her in a beseeching gesture.

  “Now, have you ever been to the Dead Zone?” Jenny demanded.

  The girl was on her knees now, looking up at Jenny as tears streamed down her agonized face.

  “N—n—no, I haven’t,” she stammered, her voice even more high pitched than it had been.

  “Not even right after the strike, huh?”

  “No,” she replied as she shook her head.

  “And why is that?”

  She remained quiet until Jenny jerked on her arm, pulling her to her feet in one swift and painful motion. Jenny knew she would bruise the girl, but she no longer cared. Someone had to teach her a lesson, and if it weren’t Jenny, it would be someone who would truly hurt her beyond repair.

  “Why?” Jenny yelled, her words echoing off the tiled walls.

  “M—my—my dad worked for Congress. We weren’t even here when the meteorites crashed. We were down in the underground bunkers. You know, the ones that are abandoned now.”

  “Yeah, I know them.” Jenny fixed her gaze on the girl’s blue eyes. “You must’ve gotten yourself in trouble to get sent here to Station Four. Either that or G.O.D. doesn’t care. But I’m going to give you one word of advice.”

  “And what’s that?” the girl sobbed, so terrified that she didn’t even try to hide the snot and the tears running down her face and mingling with her perfect blond hair.

  “You do not touch someone who has been in the Dead Zone without permission or you’re going to get yourself killed,” Jenny informed her, making certain she was perfectly clear on the consequences. “You’re lucky you ran into me and not any of the others because they would have.”

  “Is that a threat?” her friend asked as she watched them with sheer panic written
on her face. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the steam, and her towel was close to falling off.

  “No,” Jenny answered as she roughly dropped the arm of the girl in front of her, turning back to the mirror and pushing a few flyaway strands of her brown hair out of her face. She hated those privileged types, and she could’ve killed her if she didn’t have a conscience. “That’s a promise.”

  The girl’s friend scrambled toward her and ushered her away, making soothing sounds as they walked quickly out of the bathroom and away from Jenny’s apparent rage problem. That was probably what they would tell their parents when they confronted her about the bruising that would no doubt bloom over her forearm in the next few hours.

  Jenny looked at herself in the mirror, the anger finally leaching away as she peered at what she had become. She didn’t like herself most of the time because she had turned into a bitter and angry person after her parents died, her time in the Dead Zone only worsening her mental state. Now it didn’t take much to cause her to turn to violence as a way of defense, which was evident by this incident. She would either get in a lot of trouble or be threatened with so much more. Maybe they would throw her out and into the Dead Zone, which seemed like more of a place where she would be welcome anyways. People were messy and disorganized and sneaky, but the monsters outside these walls weren’t that way. You knew what they wanted even if it were just to rip you apart or infect you. No ulterior motives. No lies. And it was so much simpler. You knew where you stood.

  Jenny met her own eyes in the mirror, the brown in them sparkling with tears that burned her eyes as she kept them from falling.

  “Get yourself together, girl. You really don’t want to go back out there, do you?”

  The simple answer was no, but even she knew the answer was so much more complicated than that. As she was certain it was for Misty as well as Joshua and Mark. No one wanted to be condemned back into the Dead Zone, but it was all most people knew when they came to the Stations, and they couldn’t adjust. Was that her problem? She couldn’t adjust to life inside of the walls that G.O.D. built because she had spent so long fighting the monsters outside of them? Or did she just understand the monsters better? She truly had no idea, but she was willing to find out as long as she was given the chance she felt she deserved.

  That was when she decided she would find the girl once she dressed and left this room to apologize, if she was willing to at least hear her out. And that was if she hadn’t already gone to her parents or someone who worked for G.O.D. to report her to them. She didn’t think the girl knew her name because she hadn’t addressed her by it, but she was easy enough to spot once her description was given. All they would have to do was say that the Hispanic was the one causing problems. Even though she was certain there were more than just her there, they would know it was her when they lined them all up and the girl pointed her out. And, because the officials with G.O.D. couldn’t care less about someone of her rank, they would let her go. Just fly her out into the Dead Zone and push her from the back of whatever vehicle they chose to take her out in. That was how they did things when it didn’t truly matter to them. She laughed quietly and thought to herself that it was certainly ironic because she had begun to care less, herself.

  ***

  Great Smoky Mountains

  July 2027

  Area 51 – Underground Bunker

  The computer lab was quiet. Too quiet. Caesar had been sitting in this room for hours staring at a screen, the feed he was watching coming from a camera he had placed just outside the door of the facility Area 51 had built so long ago within the mountains. Now, there was no Area 51 or U.S. of A. There were just the monsters, what was left of humanity, and G.O.D. to keep the world moving at even a leisurely pace. But at that moment, all he saw was nothing even though he had laid out bait for any Cranker or Shadow that could be in the area. The sun was out so he couldn’t attract any Revs—and they were way too smart for that.

  Ever since the meteorite strike that had ended the world as he knew it, he had nearly locked himself away inside of the bunker and only came out when necessary. And that was for his experiments and what meager supplies he could find in the Dead Zone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what he had.

  He picked up the mug full of black coffee and sighed, leaning back in his computer chair as he continued to stare at the screen and took a sip of the bitter liquid. With a grimace, he set the mug back down on the large console and leaned forward, placing both elbows on either side of the mug.

  “Is the coffee too bitter, sir?” The electronic female voice moved around the room, coming from the speakers placed throughout the entire bunker. “I can make it again.”

  Caesar dismissed her with a wave of his hand and watched the screen intently. “No, it’s fine, Genesis. The cheap stuff is all that’s left so it’ll have to do.” There was a long moment of silence before the voice came from the speakers again.

  “There has been no Cranker or Shadow activity in the immediate vicinity today. Would you like me to widen the search?”

  Caesar sighed and pushed his chair away from the console, picking up the cup of coffee and walking toward the door that led out of the room and into a long hallway lined with doors upon doors. His skin still held the blueish hue that the ‘Faith’ serum had given him, having darkened from a sky-blue tint to the shade you saw on a dead body because of sun exposure during the days he went out, which was every day. The white veins popped from beneath his flesh, looking a lot like a roadmap.

  “Do it. I have to find a few older ones to place the collars on so the research is exact. We need to know if they really work the way I think they do. If not, then they’ll have to be tweaked.”

  “Yes, sir.” Then the voice was gone, leaving Caesar in the unwelcome silence he always found himself in now that the world was pretty much a ghost town. He had heard about the Stations but knew he would not be a good fit for what they were attempting to accomplish. Plus, he had too much work to do in the Dead Zone, and no one else would understand what he was trying to do. Sometimes even he barely understood it.

  He sauntered down the hall and went toward the coffee pot in the massive common room that was the center of the underground complex deep inside the Smoky Mountains, his only companion a robot built into the walls of the place. The coffee pot was nearly empty, and he hadn’t remembered drinking that much coffee, but that was entirely possible these days. He hardly slept and was always working to perfect so many pet projects in an attempt to return the world to what it used to be. G.O.D. had thrived in the new environment, but how long would the rest of humanity last? That question was the reason he would continue for as long as his natural life to be able to save the few remaining humans—if there were any by now. Every now and then, a brand new Syc infected Cranker or Shadow would show up on his computer screen just outside the door, but they were few and far between these days. Was that because the Stations kept what was left safe? Or were they sending even fewer individuals out into the Dead Zone? He wasn’t certain, but he did know that Genesis had been a huge help in his experiments.

  Caesar searched the expanse of the counter for the government made air tight packs of coffee grounds and filters to place inside the industrial coffee maker, seeing nothing even after rifling through the cabinets themselves. Frustration bloomed within him, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to make another coffee run since he had not even four days prior. He picked up a small cardboard box from the last cabinet and looked inside, seeing nothing. Reaching inside he felt around, still finding nothing, and as he threw the box on the floor next to him he scrubbed his face with his hands. He was tired. Too tired, but too wired to sleep. Just like the last seven years in the world After Apocalypse.

  “Genesis!” he shouted in irritation, knowing he didn’t have to yell to be heard by the robot.

  Her answer came swiftly, as always. “Yes, Caesar?”

  “Where are the rest of the coffee grounds and the filters? I know we have more th
an this. There is no way I drank it all already.” His stomach growled as he waited for her answer, making Caesar realize he hadn’t eaten all day and it was most likely getting dark out.

  “You would be correct, sir. You stored it all in the main pantry by the kitchens, remember? Would you like me to bring them here? I can even set more to brew.”

  He shook his head. “No, no. I’ll get it. I’ve got to eat something anyways. Just widen the search and alert me when anything crosses the path of the cameras.”

  “Yes, sir,” Genesis responded.

  “And, Genesis,” Caesar said, making sure to over-pronounce her name.

  There was a beat of silence like she was hesitating to answer his words. “Yes, sir.”

  He smiled, dropped his head, shook it, and laughed to himself. This robot sure was funny at times, and this particular annoyance was one of her hang-ups. Respect had been programmed into her, and it didn’t matter how many times he said the next sentence she would never stop no matter how many adjustments he made.

  “Please don’t call me ‘sir.’ We’re not with Area 51 anymore. It’s Caesar. Okay?”

  Yes, he realized he was talking to an artificial being and how insane it would sound to anyone else, but it helped him keep his precious sanity. He needed companionship, and this was as close as he was going to get.

  “Absolutely, Ca—Caes—sir,” she stammered. Most people wouldn’t think a robot could do such a thing, but when trying to work against her own programming, anything was bound to happen. Especially a glitch, which was what this stammer truly was.

  He laughed again, the laughter turning into uncontrollable giggles as he sat there on the floor. Genesis was computing the laughter in her silence, attempting to understand the emotion he was currently feeling. He wasn’t happy or sad. He was just tired. No. Exhausted.

  “I am sorry, sir. I do not understand what is funny,” she finally admitted.