by Jack Wallen
“It’s at the door.” Zander’s words hit me like a sock full of nickels. “What do we do?”
“Run! Run and hide.” Everyone scattered. Naturally I had to run to Susan’s room, I wasn’t about to take any chances on leaving that girl without protection. When I reached the room I ran in and hid in a darkened corner. I cursed myself for not grabbing my gun. My breath stopped. The only sound was the screeching sound drawing ever nearer to the room.
And then it happened. The screamer threw the door open and let loose a roar to shame Godzilla. My heart was doing double duty in my chest. The screamer came into the room and crossed to Susan’s bed. I was about to try to bull rush the zombie when I realized it wasn’t doing anything but staring and sniffing at Susan.
Just as I was about to try something completely insane, I saw Jean creeping out of the shadows, syringe in hand. He managed to get to the screamer and drive the hypodermic into its neck and take off running out of the room. The zombie immediately took flight, chasing after the doctor.
As soon as the zombie was out of the room, I was at Susan’s side. She was fine. The zombie, for whatever reason, didn’t harm the girl. Could a miracle have just occurred in front of me? That wasn’t the stuff usually found in my system of beliefs, but I can’t deny what I just witnessed.
I’m not sure how long I stood over Susan, but the sounds of horror had subsided. Either the zombie had given in to the dreamy peace of the tranquilizer or had a filling dinner of my friend’s brains and was out looking for desert. When Jean arrived in the room, I was happy to know not everyone had fallen victim.
“What happened?”
“After the beast was out I unlocked the stairwell holding the other zombies, tossed it in, and relocked the door. We’ll let nature take its course and see if our friends can take care of one another.”
Although Jean’s solution had merit, it did neglect one issue; after the screamer and moaners face off, we would still have to take care of the winning team. I voiced that very concern to which Jean simply assured me we will take care of that problem when it presents itself.
Such arrogance. It is exactly what I need.
It didn’t take long for everyone, including our new friends, to make their way back to Susan’s room. Our newest members are Michelle and Mikka, a young (and very French) couple who speak choppy English, look as if they are both tragically hip, and are about as frightened as anyone I have ever seen.
“Those monsters…they killed our friends, everyone,” Mikka said, as if this were the first time the reports of zombies killing humans had ever been spoken aloud. Little did Mikka know.
“We need to get out of Paris!” Michelle added with an equal amount of naiveté. I wasn’t sure if now was a good time to drop the nuke on the two innocent babes that the whole of the world had gone to bed and were all sharing the same nightmare. Looking at their watering, fear-blind eyes, it was all too obvious they weren’t ready for the truth just yet.
“Any ideas, Bethany?” Gunther asked, his voice its usual calm and steady state.
To be honest, I had no ideas; I was fresh out. My brain was blank and my body exhausted. I had just burned through every drop of adrenaline my glands had to offer. Collapsing was the only idea that sounded remotely acceptable. I did know one thing for sure, we had to have another zombie in captivity. Without being able to run tests we might as well give up trying to save the world.
When I brought this up, I thought I was about to lose some friends.
“No. No way. We cannot keep bringing those things in here with us. It’s too dangerous!” Gunther objected.
Fortunately Jean was on my side and helped Gunther to see the light of reason. When Gunther’s resolve began to break, I interjected a thought to try to help bring the German back on board.
“We need something to use as a weapon that won’t draw too much attention,” I replied without really thinking about what I was saying.
“Something silent,” Gunther added.
“What kind of weapon could we find in a hospital?” Michelle managed to pull herself out of her fear-induced fugue long enough to toss a handful of doubt onto the table.
“We need to save the sedatives in case someone is hurt, so that’s out of the question,” Jean said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sure I can find something…” his mind and voice wandered off, most likely running through some cached inventory in his brain.
“We should find a weapon supply and grab pistols with silencers,” Gunther stated - actually more like demanded.
“We’re not in Germany now, Gunther. The likelihood of finding such a place is slim to none.” I didn’t want to sound even remotely xenophobic, but there it was; the truth.
“I have an idea.” Jean stood and went to the center of the room. “I’ll need to get to the dispensary on the floor below us and retrieve a few items.”
Jean’s idea was fairly complicated, but would result in rendering a zombie incapable of biting. His plan included luring one of the undead into a trap, knocking the monster out with a hit of our precious sedative, taking the captive into surgery, and wiring the beast’s mouth shut. Jean assured us he could pull off the surgery quickly. After we convinced him it wouldn’t be necessary to work in a sterilized environment, the total time for the surgery was cut in half. It was meatball surgery, but that was all we needed, given the circumstances.
The biggest issue with the plan was getting a moaner or screamer trapped enough so that we could sedate it. We weren’t in a position that we could chance losing another member of our little Scooby Gang. It was Gunther that solved our problem. Thanks to some less-than-ethical war tactics, Gunther very quickly created the means by which to inject a victim from a distance. The solution included a syringe attached to a length of surgical titanium rod – and a bit of military engineering ingenuity.
Gunther’s past was growing ever-more intriguing.
Once the zombie was out cold, we had to rush to get the thing to surgery so Jean could work his magic.
This whole trap seemed so juvenile, so puckish that it couldn’t possibly fail. What we were planning was a sort of comedy in the face of the ultimate tragedy. Finally, we all agreed it was our only hope. Even though we had no idea how we could possibly lure one screamer down the hall and stop on the big red letter “X”, we agreed to move forward with the plan.
Jean and Gunther did their best stealthy ninja impersonations and left in search of everything necessary to make our better mousetrap come to life. I, in the meantime, had blogs to upload and email to read. I cracked open the laptop and, before I could fire up my email client, connected to Zombie Radio.
“…listening to Zombie Radio, sponsored by the great God Armageddon and partially subsidized by the makers of the wholesome and ever-filling Shit Sandwich. Open your mouth world, here comes that tasty treat. Yum! Let’s take a caller.”
“Hello, Zombie Radio, am I on?”
“You certainly are caller. Do you have a name?”
“Yes I do, young man. My name is Evelyn Godwin.”
Everything seemed to pause at that very moment. Fate had delivered to me either a golden prize or a slap in the face. At the moment, I was unsure which. My breath was temporarily on hold.
“I am the wife of the late Dr. Lindsay Godwin.”
A violent gasp of air was yanked into my lungs. I couldn’t believe this turn of events. Of all the people in the world to reach out from the vortex, who would have thought that the widow of the man who wrought this disaster would make a semi-public appearance?
Bold move, Mrs. Godwin, bold move.
“Are you serious? You are the wife of the man –”
“That is correct. But this call is not about my late husband. I need to give someone a warning. Is that okay with you young man?”
“For a celebrity like you? Why, Mrs. Godwin, you may do as you please.”
“Thank you very kindly. Bethany, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but you are in danger. There are machination
s you cannot comprehend at work. What has happened is tragic, that is true. But there was no stopping this plan from the moment the idea was given birth. You may have strongly disagreed with Lindsay and his work, but he was only doing what he thought would save his family. The truth is, dear girl, had that group not chosen my husband to bring their plan to life, they would have found someone else. And now you are attempting something that jeopardizes that plan at its very core. If you continue on with what you are attempting, they will come to you and you will not survive. Please, Bethany, give up what you are doing. Let go of this battle and survive. Stop trying to save everyone and save yourself. It’s a dog eat dog world and when even one dog is diseased, the world suffers. Thank you, young man, that is all I have to say.”
“Okay. I sure hope you were listening, Bethany. If not, that woman went uber-creepy on air for nothing. And to save us from that disaster, let’s have a suitable tune to lighten up that mood. Why not one of the silliest songs ever written? Gee sir, how much is that doggie in the window?”
The corny song scratched its old-time sound out of the PC speakers. There was a dash of beautiful irony there that any techno or audiophile would adore. But more than anything I was once again haunted by ghosts of my recent past. I wanted to put those memories to rest so I could focus enough to survive. But there they were, tossed out into the air for me to rehash yet again. But why? Why did Mrs. Godwin feel it necessary to warn me?
There was something about what she said poking the back of my mind; some disconnected intersection that begged to be re-connected. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, there was a point A and a point B that needed to be joined, and somewhere within the words of Mrs. Godwin a clue was to be found.
I pulled up the recording of the transmission, so I could revisit Evelyn’s call a few times. It wasn’t until somewhere around the ninth or tenth listening that a glimmer of a thread began to form around something she said. It was the last comment…
“It’s a dog eat dog world and when even one dog is diseased, the world suffers.”
Not only did that seem out of place for a lady of her age and social position, it didn’t really make sense. That is why it seemed to hang aloft in the air in front of me.
“When even one dog is diseased –”
“Diseased dog,” I whispered aloud. Where had that…
And then it came to me.
“Rabid dog. Oh my God. Rabies. That’s it!” I stood up and scrambled around the room, “Jean! Jean!”
“Yes, Bethany? I’m right here. What is it?” Jean had his hands on my arms trying to focus my attention.
“Rabies. The virus is a form of rabies.” The word jumped out of my mouth, almost too quickly to be understood.
“I don’t follow.”
I pulled Jean over to the PC and replayed for him the warning from Mrs. Godwin. When it was finished I looked to him and smiled, expecting the light to go off over his head.
“I still don’t follow. Who was that woman?” Jean seemed a bit overly concerned. Maybe he was beginning to think the stress of the situation had finally snapped the fragile thread of my sanity.
“Do you remember the text, written by Mengele, from the encrypted file?”
“I do. I mean, I remember you cracked it, read it, and we were all quite disappointed. I honestly don’t remember what it said.” Jean’s voice carried a twinge of shame.
I reread the text from the file to Jean. Added to what Mrs. Godwin had said, the haunting words of Josef Mengele managed to gain footing in Jean’s mind. Whereas I nearly leaped for joy, Jean’s feet were planted squarely on the ground.
“Bethany, I am not a pathologist. I cannot solve this riddle alone.”
I knew Jean was right, but there was no way I was going to give up, not after we had come this far. There was almost no reason to even bother trying to locate a pathologist, we’d never manage to get anyone safely inside the hospital now. The streets were slowly being overtaken by the undead, so even if we did contact someone who could help, it would be an epic struggle to get him here.
“Look, you and I are all we have and, quite frankly, all the world has.” I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to bully Jean, but he had to understand the certain doom the world was facing. “Jean, we are going to do everything we can to put this puzzle together.”
Jean did nothing more than blink for the longest time. It seemed he was starting to shut down, let go of everything and disappear inside of himself. To be honest, I didn’t blame him. The idea of vanishing often overtook my desire lately. But just as I was about to walk away he pulled in a deep, stress-filled breath and exhaled.
“Okay. I will go back to Dr. Godwin’s notes and see if I can –“
“No. We need to start with only the facts we have. The original virus was developed from a strain of Rabies, which I assume has not mutated since the ‘40s.” That word assume would probably come back to haunt me.
“You assume incorrectly. As with any virus, Rabies might well have mutated. So, we begin with a standard Rabies vaccination and evolve the vaccination accordingly,” Jean corrected, picking up my train of thought.
I pulled the laptop to me and looked up the Rabies vaccination. Of course there was plenty of information available, enough to get us started. All we needed now was enough time to gather the supplies necessary and a subject to test on. The subject, of course, being a member of the walking dead. We also needed a Pitman-Moore L503 strain of the virus. I had to leave that one in the competent hands of Dr. Chavenel. As for the test subject –
With perfect synchronicity, Gunther interrupted mine and Jean’s study session with a childlike grin on his face.
“The trap is set. I have the device ready for the sedative. I am going to crawl up into the ceiling and, when the beast is in position, I will do the injection. It’s critical, though, that you get the beast to stop momentarily, right below me, long enough that I can administer the full contents of the syringe.” Gunther described his trap with pride. I wasn’t so certain it would work, but there was no way I was going to voice that opinion. The smile on Gunther’s face was the first glimmer of hope we’ve had in a while. I wasn’t about to erase that with doubt.
After instructing Jean to begin gathering the supplies he needed for the surgery, Gunther and I brought together the remaining troops to assemble a plan for the upcoming showdown at the undead corral.
The plan came to fruition quickly and easily. Michelle would release the lock on the stairwell and try to allow only one of the zombies through. Once the beast was out, I would stand at the end of the hall and get the zombie’s attention with a scream to shame Jamie Lee Curtis in the original Halloween. Once the screamer made it to the mark, Gunther would release the sedative and I would secure myself in a room to await the Z’s incapacitation by stealth injection.
It wasn’t a perfect plan. In fact, it was a plan that held plenty of opportunity for Murphy’s Law to take effect. Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. But it was the only plan we had. There was no choice at this point, we had to trap a screamer and test our Rabies theory.
I gave everyone the nod to do what they needed to prepare for this mammoth task. Personally? I just needed some peace, so I could get ready to channel my inner scream queen.
I suppose if I were a religious person, this would be that moment which would drop me to my knees in devout prayer. As you might guess, no religious act has popped into my mind, other than maybe to flip off anyone who might justify what has happened as a test of our faith to God. Trust me, this is not a test. This is humanity allowed to think and evolve all on its own. The real issue though is that “thought” and “evolution” don’t seem to go hand in hand when it comes to mankind. Instead man has distilled it all down to one ineffable truth – man cannot escape greed. It was, after all, greed that brought about this plague. It was greed that allowed Dr. Godwin to finish the work of Josef Mengele. And it was the greed of power that pushed Mengele to pursue the virus in t
he first place. Finally, it is my greed for life that drives me to want to save our species. I’m not done with my allotted time on this planet and I am not about ready to go down dining on someone else’s head meat.
But don’t get me wrong, I have grown to realize that the majority of people really aren’t worth saving. That is not to say there weren’t/aren’t plenty of inhabitants whose lives are worth salvaging. But now, since the amplification of the Mengele Virus, the majority of the inhabitants of Planet Fucked are zombies, which are in no way, shape, or form worth saving. That being true, I still plan to survive this ride.
My heart was speed-beating out of my chest. If I place a mic to my throat you’d think me beat-boxing to Anthrax. God, what I wouldn’t do for a soundtrack right about now. What would be playing in the background of our little pre-battle scene? A montage with the London Symphony weeping out the strains of Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings? Or some up-tempo, survivalist anthem like Uprising by Muse?
I closed my eyes and imaged an outcome of this careless charade that would have all of us still alive and kicking; a little positive energy never hurt anyone.
“Bethany? Are you ready?” Gunther’s voice was soft, pulling me from my pre-game, pay-it-forward victory dance. I looked up into the now-visible duct work where Gunther’s face was peering out.
“I think so,” I lied. I wasn’t ready. I was, in fact, scared to death that if this makeshift plan wasn’t perfectly executed, the consequences could be tragic. I offered up a silent ‘fuck’ and walked toward the door. For a moment I wondered ‘What in the fuck are we doing?’ We seem to be going through zombies like a fat kid goes through Twinkies. When would the never ending carousel of undead end? Would we ever actually make any headway with the cure at the rate we were fumbling through this mess?
“Let’s make some magic.” I pushed all thought of tragic mistakes aside and winked at Gunther.
Everyone was already in place, ready to set off the suicide machine. A tiny particle of my brain begged to yell ‘CUT!’ before the action began to unfold. But this needed to happen. We had to have one of those monsters if we had any hopes of saving Susan, or the rest of the planet.
