Tower of the Dead: A Zombie Novel

by J. V. Roberts

  I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. The jacket on my emotions is slowly loosening.

  “Which one do you prefer? Door one or door two? And before you answer, there is one more thing. Narrative number two can go into effect at any time. So don’t think about getting wise on me later down the road. New evidence has a way of bubbling to the surface. We’ll be watching you very closely. You so much as blink wrong and you’ll wake up in the nightmare I just painted.”

  “You sonofabitch.”

  He checks an invisible watch. “Time is of the essence. Make your choice or I’ll make it for you.”

  “One,” I say softly, trying to come to grips with what I’m about to do. I close my eyes and apologize to the spirit of my wife and all those that I tried to save. I remind myself that I’m doing it for Alisa, that it’s the decision Tasia would want me to make.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “One, goddamn you, one!”

  He grins and squeezes one of my feet. “Wonderful! You’re a smart man, an American hero. Your country salutes you.” He starts whistling as he strides for the door.

  “The men on the roof.”

  He turns back to me, one hand on the knob. “Come again?”

  “When I came home, on that day, my wife said that she saw men on the roof spraying some shit out over the neighborhood. That was your people, wasn’t it?”

  He tightens his lips and narrows his eyes, considering his words carefully. “We live in…perilous times. The sort of times when people like you might be called upon, against their will, to make sacrifices for their country. We face new enemies. New enemies call for new tools, tools that we have no experience with, tools that need to be honed and sharpened before they are put to use. If we use one of those…tools…and something goes wrong over there, we may not be able to contain it, so it’s important that we know what we’re dealing with first by testing it in an environment we can control. I hope that answers your question.”

  “So?”

  “So…what?”

  “Did it do what you expected it to do?”

  “It did more. It did much more.”

  ***

  Alisa lies on my chest, sleeping as I run my fingers through her hair. Tears flow silently down my face, soaking the thin pillow beneath my head. The nurses and the doctors have all come through to shake my hand and thank me for standing tall in the face of such a brazen act of terror, while also offering me their sympathies for the losses I’ve experienced.

  The news plays quietly on the television. I’ve been their main story all day. They’re showing an old photo of me and my wife holding Alisa between us. We’re both smiling and in love.

  Below the photo, in big white letters, the screen reads:

  American Hero

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of White Flag Of The Dead: A Zombie Novel

  J.V. Roberts makes his home in Dallas with his (awesome) wife. When he’s not writing he enjoys collecting and watching film. You can catch up with (almost) every detail of his insanely mundane life at www.facebook.com/thejvroberts. Also be sure to check out his blog at www.jvroberts.com.

  1

  “Ugh.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Ugh.”

  “Come on caveman, your son is calling you.” My wife of six years poked me in the ribs and pushed my feet off the bed. In the background, soft music played through the monitor, indicating that Jake, our son, was awake and had activated the toy.

  “I’m too tired to play daddy today. Get someone else.” I groaned, rolling over and burying my head in my pillows.

  “Move it or we’ll never play at making another one,” she threatened.

  “Empty threat. I’m too good for any woman to give up cold turkey.”

  Ellie grabbed my pillows. “Fine. How about it’s your turn since I got up at 2?”

  I rolled out of bed and lay on the floor. “I’m nothing if not fair.”

  The words “Have fun” floated over the bed and down to my ears as I started my morning routine of pushups and sit-ups. I barely felt them anymore, since I had been doing them since I was a kid. However, habits are habits, and it woke me up in the mornings.

  I walked down the dark hall, feeling very much like a zombie. I am sure I looked it, too. But things needed to be done, and as the wife said, it was my turn. Five a.m. was waaaay to early for anything, let alone getting up from a very sound sleep. Jake, my five-month old, was wiggly and wanting to move out of his crib. He was just learning to sit on his own, although he couldn’t push himself to a sitting position yet. He rolled all over creation, and dragged himself along in an attempt to crawl. We thought he was the greatest thing, being new parents, but even we were surprised at how happy he was all the time, and what an easy baby he was, if judging by the grousing my brother did about his kids.

  “Hey, buddy.” I said stepping over to his crib. Jacob had activated his plastic fishbowl, which had alerted us to his state of wakefulness. Jake looked at me and smiled through his binky, swinging his arms in excitement. How these little guys remained so cheerful all the time was a mystery to me. If I could bottle it, I would be rich.

  I picked him up and headed downstairs to make a bottle for him, since Ellie was not breast-feeding. She had tried, but it just seemed to not be in the cards, so here we were, spending lots of money on formula. I didn’t blame Ellie, how could it be her fault? She felt bad enough as it was, since she believed she was not getting that special “bonding time” that so many people say is so important. On the plus side, it allowed both of us to have some special time with the little guy, so we enjoyed it for what it was.

  Downstairs I made him a bottle and a small bowl of oatmeal cereal. The doctor had said he could start it, so we got some, and he really seemed to enjoy it. I tasted it once and it reminded me strongly of glue, but I didn’t let Jake know that. I turned on the television to see what news there could be. I generally watched Fox for news, simply because it was slightly harder to spot the bias. Ellie liked the local stuff and once in a blue moon, I turned on CNN. Most of my news came from the Internet, but it was good background noise.

  “…incoming reports remain sketchy, but there seems to be some sort of outbreak in New York City on the lower east side. We go to Hannah Graves at the scene of Angel of Mercy Hospital. Hannah, what can you tell us?” I glanced at the screen, but Jake decided to make a grab for the food bowl, so I lost the reporter’s comments.

  “Okay, thanks, Hannah. We’re going to our interview with Dr. Rafik Narwal, from the Center for Disease Control. Dr. Narwal, what can you tell us? Are we looking at a pandemic?”

  That got my attention. I picked Jake up to give him the rest of his bottle and stood in front of the television. Dr. Narwal looked bad, as if he hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately.

  “Nothing of the sort. We have taken precautions, like we normally do, when we have a situation where an infected person comes down with symptoms we haven’t seen before in this country. In Africa, this sort of thing is routine and would not even be a story.” Something in his manner was not sitting right with me. I had spent the last four years of my life as an administrator in public schools, and I knew when someone was lying to me, or when they were trying to cover up something. Right now, Dr. Narwal was lying, and worse, he seemed scared. When the CDC spokesman looked scared, check your antibiotic supply because things were not good. I started to think about what I had read recently, where estimates of the death toll from a pandemic avian flu outbreak, could reach 150 million. I started to pay very close attention

  “What kind of symptoms, so we will know what to look for?” Darla the commentator asked. I called her Darla because I didn’t know her name and she looked like one, anyway.

  Dr. Narwal looked nervous. “The symptoms are relatively flu like, with profuse vomiting, diarrhea, sweating and salivating. If anyone comes down with these symptoms after being infected, it is a very good idea to isolate them, as they are very
contagious.”

  “Is this a new disease?”

  “All reports indicate we have not seen this strain of virus before, so yes.”

  “Where did this begin?” Why people cared about this I wasn’t sure, but maybe it gave them some sort of relief blaming someone else.

  Dr Narwal explained. “One of our colleagues was doing research in a remote village in the Congo Basin. Nothing out of the ordinary there, many of our diseases and cures come from largely unexplored regions like the Congo and the Amazon. Dr. Roberto Enillo, was researching a new virus outbreak and he discovered this new disease. We are currently running tests as to what kind of virus this is, what the incubation rate is, its survival rate in the open, what kills it, and what feeds it.

  I noticed he used only the past tense when talking about Dr. Enillo.

  “What can we tell people to do?” Darla asked, leaning forward, looking concerned for the camera. I felt her concern, and appreciated the glimpse down her shirt.

  Dr. Narwal relaxed a bit, as this was familiar ground. “People should not panic. If a relative comes down with the symptoms, isolate them and call the authorities. If you feel you are sick, go to a hospital or clinic and they will take care of you.” Something was ticking in the back of my mind, but I didn’t pay close attention as I knelt down to change a dirty diaper. . Jakey was finished with his bottle and gave me a satisfactory belch to complete his morning routine. I laid him on the floor and smiled at him, which got a full smile and arm flapping in response. What you don’t know about the world, buddy. I thought.

  “In world news, England mobilizes its Territorial Army for a possible containment operation near Wales. Details are sketchy at this point, but there appears to be rumors of some sort of patient uprising in a local hospital. Further details as reports come in.”

  “Okay, thanks, Hannah, in other news…”

  I turned off the news as my wife came down, yawning and stretching. “Anything on the news?”

  “Something about a new virus going around that seems to be hitting hard in a lot of places.”,” I said, placing a few toys about for Jake to play with while I got my breakfast.

  “Really? Anything I need to know about?” Ellie stayed home with Jake three days a week, after taking a year off from full time work. We did the math and realized that she would be working just for day care for Jake, so what was the point? She worked as a cardiac nurse for a hospital in the city, so she generally worked the shifts no one else wanted, Saturdays being one of them.

  “Just keep an eye out for flu-like symptoms, and call the authorities if anyone has been infected. They didn’t say anything about transmission, but that it was very contagious.”,” I replied.

  “Any reports of outbreaks around here?” Ellie asked, her eyebrows rising.

  “Nothing on the local news, but I am sure things will get out as needed, information wise.”,” I assured her. The Internet eliminated information dissemination by the media, everyone had a camera, video recorder, or some combination, which allowed them to post immediately exactly what was happening. YouTube was a great source of information, but it was better to watch with the sound off, as the posters tended to think they were trained cameramen.

  “All right. We’ll stay close to home, but I need to go to the grocery store. Jakey is running low on food. We are starting him on level two foods this week.” Ellie seemed pretty excited. “He’s getting to be such a big boy.”

  I grinned, “Takes after his daddy.”

  “Right. Nice fishing for compliments.” Ellie walked over to rescue Jake, who had managed to drag himself over to the vent and got his sleeper button stuck.

  I smiled and got myself breakfast, thinking about what I had heard on the radio. That old feeling was ticking in the back of my head, and for once, I decided not to ignore it.

  “Hey, babe?” I said.

  Ellie looked up from Jake. “What?”

  “When you go shopping, could you pick up some extra bottled water? I kind of want to ease back on my pop intake.”

  Ellie shrugged. “Sure whatever. Anything else?”

  I thought for a minute. “D and AA batteries. I think Jake’s fishbowl is sounding weak, and his musical dragon is not so musical.”

  “Okay.”

  I went back to my breakfast, and thought about things before I went upstairs to get ready to go to work. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was going to be a lot more to this virus, and as I put on my shirt and tied my tie, I decided that prudence was the better side of caution. I reached into my closet and opened the small safe I had hidden behind my Chicago Bears jersey. I pulled out my Walther PPK, and checked to make sure it was fully loaded and a round was chambered. . I took it to the side of the bed where I had a thick book hollowed out to accept the little pistol. I placed the book on my nightstand, and hoped that everything would be all right.

  2

  Driving to work at my usual pace, I barely listened to the radio, focusing more on the unusual amount of traffic that seemed to be on the road. The Governor of my state was likely going to be indicted, he said he was innocent, the president was meeting with other world leaders about the new threat, and someone was having a sale on last years model cars. Blah, Blah, Blah. I really didn’t listen until I heard the word virus and Chicago. All of a sudden, I was interested, since I lived only thirty miles outside of the city proper. The talk show was discussing the new virus that seemed to be on everyone’s mind. They said there have not been any cases yet reported in the Chicago area, but New York seemed to be having a difficult time containing it. A sound bite from the mayor of Chicago reassured everyone that precautions were being taken, and antibiotics were being stocked up. I laughed at this. Antibiotics are useless against viruses, but it made the masses rest a little easier.

  I pulled into work, and the first thing I noticed was a general lack of activity. Usually, there was a group of kids running around, but today it was quiet.

  I went to my office and spent what was essentially a normal day, dealing with the normal problems of running a school. Kids showed up, we taught them, and they went home. It wasn’t until later, when I started to get that old familiar feeling again.

  Ellie called me on my cell. “Hey you! Just wanted to touch base with you. I’m at Cost Go and wanted to know if you wanted anything special for dinner.” I could hear Jake squeaking in the background, as he always does when he rides in a shopping cart.

  I thought for a minute. “Just stock up on everything you think we need. Get a lot of canned goods and dry goods, stuff that we don’t need to refrigerate. Extra toilet paper, batteries, everything. Don’t worry about paying for it, just use the credit card.”

  Ellie seemed baffled. “What’s going on, John? What are you preparing for? I am not going to be acting like some lunatic Y2K fear monger.”

  I knew I would lose a protracted argument, since I tended to lose them all. However, I also knew that Ellie was nothing, if not practical. “Just taking some precautions. If the virus spreads, people are going to panic, and then everything will be up for grabs. Why not get what we need now, and not worry about it later?” I stood by my office window as I spoke, and that allowed me a good view of the surrounding neighborhood. I watched an old man stumble a bit around his yard, like he didn’t know where he was. Alzheimer’s, I thought. Too bad. Judging by the bandage on his arm, he had managed to injure himself.

  Ellie’s voice cut off my observation. “All right, but don’t complain to me if you get tired of soup and rice,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking out the window again. The old man’s caretaker was coming out into the yard. “I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

  The caretaker walked out into the yard and I could see the old man turn his head and look at her. He reached out with one arm, and the other one hung limp. Stroke victim, I thought, feeling sorry for the old guy. Staggering steps were taken to the caretaker, who walked forward to give him a hand. When she reached him, his hand grasped her
shoulder, and his head snapped forward to her neck. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled, watching as blood sprayed over both of them. My secretary poked her head around the door.

  “What’s up?”

  “Call 911 right now!” I yelled at her, not being able to take my eyes off the scene across the street. “A woman is being attacked on the other side of Hampshire Street!” The man had dragged the woman down and was furiously chewing on her neck and face. She was struggling, screaming, trying to get him off, but I could see she was weakening from the loss of blood. The old man bent down and tore another chunk out of her neck, and the woman shuddered once, and then was still. I watched in horror as the old man tore at her stomach, ripping the clothes and skin open and tearing out hunks of flesh, barely chewing the meat, just forcing it down. I couldn’t believe what I just saw. There was no way that just happened. I looked around to see if anyone else had seen or heard anything.

  I yelled at Janet, “Where the hell is 911?”

  “They said they are busy at the moment, but call back in fifteen minutes.”

  My mind reeled. I looked out again and saw the old man had gotten up from his kill, the front of his shirt completely covered in his victim’s blood. He began his shuffling around again and I could not believe he was staying near the body. I watched as a neighbor came out and walked over to the fence. The old man made a moaning sound and lurched toward the neighbor. Get out of there! I silently screamed at the neighbor. The neighbor held out a hand to the old man over the fence and when the old man got close enough, he grabbed the hand and promptly bit the arm it was attached to! The neighbor yanked his hand back, and ran toward his house, screaming bloody murder all the way.