The Night Sweeper: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 1)

by J. Steven Butler

  I feel my cheeks growing hot from his praise, and I catch myself smirking like a goofy kid until I notice the goddess watching me again from across the table. There’s a look on her face that I can’t quite place. Amusement? Pity?

  Get a hold of yourself, fool! You’re acting like an adolescent.

  “Let's get to it,” Archer says. “Time is a commodity we don't have.” His demeanor shifts, and he takes on the hardened look of the seasoned leader that he is.

  “As you know, Cray, our venture with The Organization has been far more successful than I could have ever hoped for within the time frame we’ve been at it. Our latest intel suggests that less than ten percent of the original population of Festers in the refuge cities remains due in part to various factors: environment, lack of sustenance, and our work in no small part. This will come as news to you, but we’re beginning to train a small army of Sweepers. Their job will be to take the fight outside of the cities, to begin retaking the rest of the country. That's what's been consuming my time lately. I've been recruiting and prepping for phase two.”

  I feel a wave of excitement. Archer's long-term plan for eliminating the Festers was two-fold. Phase one, with the agreement and backing of the Council, was the implementation of the refuge cities and the Sweepers. The idea was simple. Protect as many people as we could, while letting the enemy come to us. In the meantime, we would build up resources and social organization.

  Phase two was a bit more grandiose, and it all depended on The Organization's ability to diminish the population of Festers in the cities. If we could sufficiently reduce their number, and reasonably verify that more were not coming in than we were taking out, The Organization would take the fight to the rest of the country.

  Part of my respect for Archer lies in the scope of phase two. The plan is to train paramilitary cells in guerrilla warfare and survival and send them out for months at a time to kill the Festers they find. Based on current estimates, phase two will take twenty years to bring about sufficient Fester depopulation to begin colonizing again outside the refuge cities. The man has already given the better part of his life fighting to rebuild. Most likely, he will never live to see the final outcome of the plan he's put into place.

  He continues speaking. His voice is deep and gravelly. It’s a sound that commands attention and respect. His is the voice of a warrior, of a man accustomed to being in charge on the front lines. He’s also smart. Not as smart as me, but he’s no lightweight in the brain department, and I’ve always gotten a kick out of the way he pontificates like some kind of narrator.

  “That being said, Cray, this little meeting is really for your sake. Everyone else here is up to speed.” He pauses, weighing his next words. “I’m going to let you in on a secret we’ve been made aware of.” Every eye is on Archer, and judging from the expressions, whatever he's about to reveal isn't good news.

  “As you know, The Virus was the creation of a rather brilliant geneticist named Damian Harbin. He wasn’t the most upstanding of citizens, and he sold it to the highest bidder, which happened to be our former President. Harbin was killed under mysterious circumstances right before The Virus was released on the public. The rest is history.

  “What The Council has recently discovered is that Damian had a son, Jonathan, who continued his father’s work. He’s successfully created a new waterborne strain of The Virus. The bad news is there’s no guarantee that those with immunity to the airborne strain will be immune to this one.”

  “Just what exactly is he trying to accomplish?” I wonder aloud. “As if the first Virus wasn’t bad enough,” I say pointing out the glaringly obvious.

  Archer runs a hand through his gray-flecked hair and crosses his arms across his chest. I wait for him to continue, my mind processing and calculating the information he has thrown at me so far.

  “To be honest, we don’t know. He revealed his creation to The Council, but seems to have had a change of heart. We have it on good authority that the second Virus was only produced in a small quantity, and Jonathan made sure it was all destroyed. However, he still knows the formula and now he’s not telling. But according to information from a reliable government source, the High Council of the States wants it, and wants it bad.”

  Archer looks at me pointedly before continuing.

  “They’re planning to insure the States’ dominance over the rest of the world using the second Virus as a threat against whoever would oppose them.”

  What? My head buzzes with the knowledge that our government would stoop to such strong-arm tactics. Although the world has always been party to such staging and cold war shenanigans, it still comes as a shock after all we’ve been through with The Virus. Ever since The Virus hit, the governments of the world, though admittedly shells of their former selves, have gotten along better than any other time in history. The Virus actually did what nothing else before had ever done. It unified the nations with a common foe that wasn’t each other. Or so it had seemed.

  I sit for a moment before speaking up. “So who’s the reliable source and how reliable is he?”

  Archer glances at the suit immediately to his left.

  “This is Benjamin Eckert. He’s very high in the governmental structure. How high, I can’t really disclose. But suffice it to say, he knows firsthand that what we’re discussing today is true and accurate.

  “He secretly disagrees with the current course of action being planned by The Council. Like me and the others in this room, he feels this is a colossal mistake. We don’t believe in reestablishing old patterns of competition, dominance, and secrecy among the nations any more than what already may be there. More importantly, we’re talking about the possible destruction of millions of lives of those who survived the first holocaust. That cannot be allowed to happen.”

  I think this through for a few moments. I wholeheartedly agree with Archer, but I have to point out what he’s not saying.

  “You’re talking about treason.”

  Archer is nonplussed. “Yes, I am. You know as well as I do the ramifications of this, Cray. I’m all about being a patriot, but the world isn’t the same place it used to be.”

  The man Archer pointed out as Eckert, clears his throat lightly. He’s a tall gentleman with a thin frame and dull eyes. With his slicked-back hair and his quick, nervous movements, he reminds me a bit of a weasel. He doesn’t appear to me like someone who would be willing to buck the system, but people can fool you sometimes. Appearances aren’t always what they seem. When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly smooth and confident. He doesn’t stumble over his words or beat around the bush. The dullness apparent in his eyes moments before is replaced with a look of intelligence and passion.

  “Cray, let me start by thanking you for your time. Your reputation is superb and you are quite renowned in your efforts with The Organization.

  “Myself and a very few other detractors notified Mr. Archer of the situation within a short time after we were made aware of it. As he stated, we cannot concur with the current course being set by The Council, but I’m afraid we’re small in number and may lack all of the resources necessary on our own to bring about a more acceptable outcome.” He lowers his gaze gravely at me. “Namely, making sure that formula is never discovered and never reaches production level.”

  I look briefly at the girl sitting across the table from me, her face a mask of stoicism, her attention rapt on Eckert, and try to figure what her part is in all of this. I also try not to get distracted by how amazing her profile is in the lamp light. I’m not very successful and mentally kick myself for thinking about such things in the middle of a discussion about a global crisis.

  Eckert’s brows furrow and his eyes take on a distant look, like he’s remembering something unpleasant.

  “As Archer said, whatever his original intent, Jonathan Harbin is keeping his lips sealed now. He’s determined not to give the formula up to The Council, even though they've been…persuasive.”

  His meaning is clear to m
e, and I can tell everyone else around the room is already aware of the type of “persuasion” he’s referring to. Harbin is being tortured, and my stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of what it would take to do that to another human being. Sure I kill Festers, but that’s different.

  I’m starting to feel like this whole thing is totally whacked. Harbin reveals a killer virus, but then clams? What was he trying to do in the first place? If he didn’t want it being used, just keep it a secret and take it with him to the grave. Or better yet, don’t create it!

  Archer speaks up from the end of the table as if he’s reading my thoughts.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but we just don’t really have all of the pieces to the puzzle. Maybe he had a change of heart. Whatever the case is, he’s not telling his dirty little secret now. For that much, we can be thankful. But there’s no way to know how long he can hold out.”

  I watch Eckert while Archer is speaking. I’m pretty good at reading people, and there seems to be something a little strange about the look on his face, like a man trying to hide a good poker hand. I get the feeling Eckert knows more information than he’s thus far revealed.

  “And how long has he been holding out?” I ask.

  Eckert speaks up again, his voice hollow and tired sounding.

  “Two days.”

  Two days of torture. He’s either really tough or really committed.

  Archer takes the floor again. “The plan is to send someone in for Harbin. We need someone smart, experienced, and committed to stopping this madness. We want you to do it, Cray. I know this isn’t your normal gig, but I have the utmost confidence in you. I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else.”

  “And when I find him, you want me to kill him?”

  “No,” Archer says. “Me and the other interested parties have come to an agreement. None of us are assassins, no matter how bad the situation. Unfortunately, the knowledge of this virus insures Mr. Harbin will need to be put in a safe place for the rest of his life where he can’t be endangered by anyone, and where he likewise can’t endanger anyone else. He has to go away, but we won’t stoop to killing him. The first Virus did far too much of that already.”

  “So I need to extract him,” I say, allowing myself a mental sigh of relief, but also noting how much more difficult this will be.

  “Right,” Archer says. “And you won’t be going alone.”

  He gestures at the girl.

  “Cray, this is Mira Winston. She’s your new partner.”

  Chapter 5

  Okay. So now I’m shocked speechless, and I’m sure I have the stupidest look on my face.

  “Partner, sir? I don’t need a partner!” I hear my voice rising and make an effort to take a deep breath. Surely from a beauty standpoint, this girl rocks, but now we’re talking about life and death. Not to mention the fact that I’ve never been good with women, and now I’m supposed to be on some top secret extraction party with her? One-on-one? This could be really bad!

  Archer looks at me with understanding. “Look, Cray, I know this isn’t the way you usually roll. It’s not how The Organization does things typically either, and I know we’ve always worked hard to keep what we do a solo act.” He doesn’t add that he understands my true reservations. Archer knows me as good as anybody.

  “There are certain advantages to being alone for our type of work, but this isn’t just our operation. It’s a joint venture between The Organization and Mr. Eckert’s team,” he says. “It’s an equal partnership. We are going to be working together on this, so you need to decide right now if you’re in or not.”

  The other business suit catches my eye and I examine him more closely. I’ve ignored him up to this point, but now I notice a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying this, and I decide right away I think he’s a punk.

  Eckert pipes up, and I glare at him. My initial reaction of shock is starting to morph into frustration.

  “Mr. Cray, I can understand your feelings, but we want one of our own to be a part of this. This is, to say the least, an operation of immense importance. On the other hand, I believe you’ll find Ms. Winston to be of great value in the field. She won’t be a liability. I’ve taken the liberty of stressing the same thing to her about you.”

  That rubs me the wrong way. For the moment, my indignation outweighs my shyness.

  “You had to convince her that I won’t be a liability? You’re joking, right?” I look at the girl sitting across from me. Her face remains impassive, like a stone, a gorgeous Michelangelo sculpture to be precise, but this just serves to add to my irritation.

  “Maybe you guys are a little slow to catch on to things, and maybe it’s a bit arrogant to say so, but I don’t need or want anybody’s recommendation. I’m twenty-five years old, and I’ve been doing this since I was nineteen. I know….”

  “Stow it!” Archer’s voice is authoritative, and I bite my tongue.

  He gives me an armor-piercing look, and I damp down my irritation.

  “I can personally attest for Ms. Winston,” Archer says. “She’s one of the best operatives I’ve ever seen, and she won’t be a burden. I want you on this Cray, but we don’t have time to argue resumes. We need to act immediately and decisively, and you’re gonna have to lay aside any misgivings you have. This may be the most important thing you ever do.”

  I stew for a few moments before speaking again. The stakes are high, and if I’m honest, I can sympathize with Eckert’s position. Archer’s gaze bores into me and he nods his head slightly, encouraging me to trust him on this.

  So be it.

  “Well, then, when do we start?

  Chapter 6

  Twenty minutes later the meeting wraps up. The plan is for Mira to go with me on patrol tonight so we can have a bit of experience working together. Unfortunately, time is of the essence, and that is all that can be spared. We’ll have a briefing tomorrow morning after the shift to rehash the details.

  I’m still perturbed as one of the staff members leads the others out of the conference room, leaving Archer and me alone.

  He empties his coffee cup in one big swallow and gives me a serious look.

  “Sorry, Arch,” I say. “I guess I lost my head a little.”

  “Guess?” He chuckles at me. “Listen, come down with me to my quarters and we’ll talk it over, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  We make our way down a couple of flights of stairs, and emerge onto a mostly unused floor of rooms. A couple of them are kept furnished and stocked for just such an occasion as this.

  Archer unlocks the door to his room and we make our way inside, making small talk while he unpacks a duffel bag filled with personal items, charts, and maps. Someone has already laid out breakfast for us on the table – bagels with cream cheese, juice, and a pan of scrambled eggs still steaming.

  Archer makes a motion for me to sit, and we both fix a large helping of the food and attack it like we're in a famine.

  “It really is good to see you, Cray. I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he says.

  “No big deal. You've obviously been busy. Phase two going live. That's awesome.”

  “Yeah.” He talks a little faster, like a kid who can't wait to share good news. “It's killing me on the overtime, but it's finally happening. This is what we've been working for kid.”

  Archer has always called me kid and still does, even though my kid days are long behind me.

  “Did The Council take a lot of convincing?” I say.

  “No. They came to me based off the reports from the last year. Said they thought it would be a good time to start the engines.”

  “Recruits?”

  “We've had an influx. A lot of courageous people are ready to be more proactive with this thing. They want their country back.”

  He pauses for a few moments before adding, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. How are you holding up?”

  My dad died two months prior. He worked construction trying to maintain repairs
in the city and helping with renovations as necessary. We seldom saw each other and spoke even less. We both knew there was no real love between us.

  Still, he was my dad, and his death has left something of a hole in my emotions. It’s a feeling of loss, not so much of the man, but of what he could have been to me. What he should have been to me. I can’t understand what it would be like to have a son and not want to have anything to do with him. Even an adopted child like myself. What drives someone to that? There will always be a part of me that struggles with that rejection, no matter the cause.

  “I’m holding up. Any chance we had at closeness was gone long before he died,” I say bitterly. “Now, at least, I don’t have to worry about running into him on the street. You’ve been more of a dad to me than he ever was.”

  A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air, and I clear my throat, feeling uneasy with the intimate turn of the conversation. My relationship with my dad isn't something I want to talk about. Besides, neither I nor Archer are the types to get in touch with our sensitive sides. After The Virus, we don’t have all the talk show hosts accusing us of being too manly.

  “Yeah,” he says simply. He lets it drop, and I'm thankful.

  We eat in silence for a while, and I watch him as he eats. Archer is a massive guy, thick biceps bulging under his sleeves. He’s a good six inches taller than me, rounding out at an enormous 6’5, and I’ve always thought he looks more like a football player than a Sweeper.

  “So you think this thing is for real?” I ask.

  “The Council certainly thinks so.” Archer takes a long, hard breath, and blows it out in a huff, his gaze focused past me, deep in thought. “I really wish it weren’t true, Cray. You know I’ve got no love for the government. I mean, I appreciate all they’ve done to rebuild, and they’ve been good to The Organization over the years, but they’re still politicians. I always wonder what the hidden agenda is. And if what we’re hearing is true, we have good reason to think that way.”