Dead Man Running

by Davis, Barry

  To his surprise it was from the new Mrs. Wiley. The note had that day's date and began with "Dear Elias."

  "I wanted to thank you again for attending our wedding. Now that I am settling into married life I find that I have less time for old friends and acquaintances. I desperately would like to spend some time with you, an old and dear friend of ours. I understand that you and I will be attending the same event, the International Woman's Conference in DC. I look forward to seeing you there. I'm hoping that we have some private time to catch up and renew our special relationship. Until then, I wish you a good evening."

  Elias read the note four times. He failed to understand it. They had no relationship – he wasn't even her boss anymore as she had become Wiley's arm candy.

  He was going to blow off his commitment to the conference given Wiley's push to get the highway bill passed. Now, in possession of Jan's screwball note, he had to attend. The fact that Wiley himself did not pass along the message was significant. Clearly she was going behind his back.

  Is she an ally? Will she help destroy Wiley?

  Elias grew more excited the more he thought about it. Maybe this was the break that they needed - a Trojan horse in the guise of a loving black bride.

  At that moment Mira Hidar was at work late. In the Penn research lab that housed the team working on the so called atomic zombie bomb, she found it very difficult to be alone. Zombies don't sleep and they don't get tired. They do get bored, however. A pack of the researchers sat in the conference room playing Call of Duty in multiplayer mode. She chuckled under her breath – these creatures were zombies but they had not lost their 'geek-hood'.

  Next they would be having a Sudoku tournament.

  This was good for Mira Hidar, alone finally in the lab with no one looking over her shoulder.

  First she downloaded the schematics of the atomic bomb delivery system to her thumb drive. She had the idea that her zombie reversal bomb would have to be deployed similar to Wiley's bomb. She was not an engineer but hoped that Elias and the people he was working with could find someone capable of taking this design and manufacturing a prototype. The zombies were far ahead – they were already machining a prototype. They had also come up with using nanobots to both deliver the poison and transformative serum to the victims and transmit Mira's spell to create the living dead.

  She searched for the files fruitlessly. She concentrated hard and did not notice Dr. Haskins, the twenty-something wunderkind who was the driving force behind the research, ease behind her.

  "Can I help you find something, Mira?" he asked.

  She did her best not to jump out of her skin but she was rattled. Her voice trembled as she responded. "I wanted to get a look at the nanobots that you've designed. I wanted to take another shot at the serum mix." That was one of her tasks – determine the volume and mix of serum that would kill and transform the highest possible percentage of victims. The wrong mix may kill but not transform, or attempt to transform the still living victim. She needed to find a mix that achieved a high kill rate and a high rate of transformation.

  Haskins leaned over her shoulder. He took a deep breath to smell her scent.

  "I smell fear, Mira. Are you afraid of me?"

  Mira turned to face him. He had invaded her personal space before and this time his face was inches from her own.

  She looked into his dead eyes. "I'm not afraid of you," she said.

  He nodded slightly. "Maybe it is something else I smell," he said. He slid a cold hand along the nape of her neck, down to her right breast. He roughly handled her breast until her nipple stood erect. That accomplished his hand rubbed her vagina through her cotton slacks.

  He took a deep breath. "I smell your sex. You're ready for me, right?"

  Mira pushed her chair back and stood. Haskins, small of stature, stumbled backwards. "I don't think Ben Wiley would appreciate this."

  "I think Mr. Wiley wants his bomb and he needs me. I think I would be forgiven one night of playing with our human pet." He took a step forward and Mira backed up until she bumped into the lab bench.

  Looking past her, Haskins noticed Mira's thumb drive. "You're not supposed to use portable storage devices. What are you doing?"

  "Just taking some work home," she said.

  "It's not allowed," he said. He looked toward the hallway, where his fellow monsters were playing video games.

  Mira had to do something – if Haskins got the others and they saw what she had on the thumb drive, she was as good as dead.

  "Don't you people think about anything besides work?" she asked. She casually undid two buttons on her silk blouse.

  "You were going to work from home?" Haskins asked, his eyes locked on her generous breasts and now visible black brassiere.

  She took one step forward and invaded his space. She kissed him on his cold lips, and then spoke in a husky whisper. "Would you like to go home with me to see how I work there?"

  The creature nodded and the thumb drive was forgotten.

  A quick cab ride got them to Mira's west Philly apartment in less than ten minutes. Once inside, the creature's hands were all over her. In less than a minute her blouse was off and he was pawing at her pants.

  "I have to pee," she announced finally.

  "Pee later," he said as he undid her belt and tossed it aside. She smiled and rolled out of his arms. "It'll go a little bit better handsome if I can pee first. You'll see." She fast walked into the bathroom and shut and locked the door.

  She could hear his feet shuffling on the other side of the door. "Come on Mira, I am so horny. I am about to bust." He banged on the door.

  She pulled her pants down and sat on the toilet – she really did have to go. She urinated, wiped herself and pulled her pants up. She ran the water in the basin as she considered how to kill a zombie. She looked around the room – there were scented candles that she had brought down from her New York apartment. There was the normal bathroom stuff – towel and wash cloth, soap, shampoo.

  There was a loud bang on the frail door. "I'm coming in there Mira if you don't come out right now. No more being a tease."

  "I want to be clean for you, baby," she replied. Clean. She looked underneath the sink. In addition to the cleaning supplies there was hair gel and nail polish remover in a small plastic bottle. There was a loud bang and the door was nearly split in two pieces.

  Wasn't nail polish remover flammable?

  Moving quickly she found the Bic lighter she used to light her candles and stuffed it into her pocket. She placed the bottle of nail polish remover in her other pocket. Just then Haskins completed the destruction of her door and stepped into the small space.

  He was on her in seconds. With a determined tug he tore off her bra. He lifted her up and carried her to the living room couch. He dumped her down unceremoniously. "Take off those damned pants," he ordered.

  She peeled off her slacks and laid them beside the couch, the front pockets within easy reach.

  Haskins reached down and tore off her panties. He climbed on top of her. He was a full head shorter than her and his feet did not reach hers. He was still fully clothed and thus began the comedy of a zombie trying to get his thing out while simultaneously groping a woman's breasts and vagina.

  Mira cringed as the creature forced his fingers inside her. He seemed to reach a new level of pleasure with this act, his eyes clamping shut in ecstasy.

  While he was so distracted, Mira reached for her pants. She found the lighter first and managed to tuck it under her chin.

  Haskins had removed his hand from her sex and worked on his pants. Finally he had his pants down around his ankles and had freed his penis from his tight white drawers.

  "Get ready baby, here I come," he said. Once a geek, always a geek, Mira thought.

  He lay on top of her and struggled to get inside her. Mira reached into her other pants pocket and scooped out the small bottle. She quickly unscrewed the top and doused the liquid on Haskins' shoulders and back. His attention
left her unviolated vagina.

  "What is this? What are you doing?" he asked.

  "I'm sorry," she said, "I'm the kind of girl who needs to be brought dinner first." As he pondered her response she dropped the lighter out from under her chin and quickly fired it up.

  The flame leaped from the lighter to the glistening liquid on his upper body. Haskins rolled off of Mira, struggling with the flames on his face and chest and the pants stupidly coiled about his ankles. He reached for her as she bolted off the couch but could only get a fingertip on her ankle. It was enough to topple her to the floor but she quickly got to her feet. He roared as Mira headed for her kitchen.

  She knew the burns would not kill him, that he would quickly recover to kill her unless she acted. She grabbed the largest knife she had – a dull butcher knife.

  It would have to be enough.

  She turned to leave the kitchen and Haskins stood in the doorway smiling.

  "Deceitful bitch. You should know that I was going to turn you into Wiley anyway. After fucking you, of course." His grin grew wider. "Now I get to fuck you and eat you in more ways than one."

  As he erupted in laughter Mira Hidar unleashed an animalistic growl of her own. She bowled over the small man, tumbling over his back.

  She quickly took hold of the knife, which had fallen out of her hand. She swung the knife and nearly severed his head from his body. There was a surprised smile on the zombie's face as Mira swung again. This time the head and body went their separate ways, the head rolling to a stop next to the couch where Mira was almost raped by a zombie geek.

  Mira dragged the body to her bathtub and placed it inside. That was to minimize the blood stains on her floor until she could clean up. She knew that she would have to hack up the body for easier disposal but she would do that later. Presently, she had to get back to the lab. She had unfinished business there.

  She then cleaned herself, removing any vestige of the creature that nearly raped her. She got dressed, grabbed a cab and less than a half hour after killing Haskins she was back in the lab.

  She was relieved to see the thumb drive still in her work station and the zombies still at play. She knew she was taking a risk but she continued her search for the nanobot technology. After several minutes she broke into Haskins drive and found what she was looking for.

  She copied the files onto her thumb drive then shut down her work station. As she stepped out of the lab she heard the sounds of the video game still coming out of the conference room.

  In the future, they would have one less player.

  For that, they had Mira Hidar to thank.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Jan Wiley exited the limo in front of the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in downtown DC. She left behind her two bodyguards – who she nicknamed Salt and Pepper – after assuring the dim duo that she would be fine in the heavily secured facility during the high profile conference. She knew that the pair was happy to essentially have a day off, freeing them to pursue their passion for stray dogs, pussy and human flesh.

  She stepped inside the cacophonous building and hurriedly found the sign-in booth for the convention. She quickly but legibly signed her name. She still had to think twice before adding the 'Wiley' to her name. The hostess handed her a name tag. Jan thanked the woman, who pointed out the coat room for the event.

  Jan did not head for the coat room.

  By Googling the convention center the days prior she knew that there was a Metro station built into the site. She walked the length of the building to reach the station. She paid her fare and took the Red Line to the Metro Center, the system's main hub. From there she rode the Blue Line to the Capital South station. Up the escalator, it was a quick walk to International Real Estate Sales, a boutique real estate agency discretely catering to the very wealthy and powerful.

  She was a few minutes early for her ten o'clock appointment. She declined the receptionist's offer of beverage and was ushered into the office of the agency's owner, James Kelly. Of course he recognized her, this wife of a sitting Cabinet member. Although Kelly knew not to assume anything in this town, his best guess was that Ben Wiley had siphoned off some campaign funds for the illegal purchase of a tropical getaway. The surprise was that the wife was part of the plan. Usually men of his stature did not associate 'wife' with 'getaway'.

  Kelly greeted Jan with an air kiss and sat her at a circular table. Built into the table was a HD monitor. Kelly tapped the screen a few times and a ten thousand square foot six acre beach front compound in Costa Rica appeared on screen.

  "You took the virtual tour?"

  Jan nodded. "Yes."

  "Did you want to fly down to check it out? I can arrange accommodations." Perhaps then he could meet Mr. Wiley. He had heard the man was a comer, shooting up like a rocket.

  Jan shook her head, pointedly looked at her watch. Congressman Turnbull, freshman member of the House Human Rights committee, drafted by his betters to address the conference, would have completed his opening remarks by now. He had to stay at least until lunch, where he would welcome the foreign dignitaries on behalf of the American government.

  "I thought I made it clear, Mr. Kelly, when I told you to make the owners an offer. I don't need to go check anything out. Did they accept my offer?"

  'I and my', perhaps there's a divorce in the offing, thought Kelly. He made a mental note to follow-up with Wiley's office later. A divorced Wiley would need a new home in the nation's Capital and Kelly had just the properties in mind.

  "The owners accepted your generous offer."

  "Do you have the paperwork prepared?"

  The realtor nodded and retrieved a thick sheaf of papers from his desk. "I assumed that your husband would not be signing," he said. Most politicians would not want to leave a paper trail tying them to such an opulent home.

  "Correct," said Jan as Kelly passed her the bundle.

  "I have flagged where you need to sign," he said.

  Kelly watched her sign for a minute then spoke again. "The property has a built in staff of four. Would you like to retain their services?"

  Jan paused her signing, thought a moment. "Yes," she replied. She quickly signed, initialed and dated the page.

  "Shall I provide my counterparts with the account information from which you're paying for the property?"

  Jan nodded, her hand flying over the pages now. She had to get back to the conference – this was taking too long. She doubted that paying a handful of peasants would dent the millions she had siphoned off of Wiley's super PAC contributions.

  After several more minutes she was done. She passed the stack to Kelly and waited as he checked that all was in order.

  "This looks great," he said finally. She stood but Kelly remained seated. "I have something else for you," he said.

  Jan, remembering, took her seat. This was as important as acquiring the property.

  "The Costa Rican government has confirmed your ancestry and the fact that you were born to a Costa Rican mother on Costa Rican soil." He smiled in the face of the mocha colored African American woman as he passed a manila envelope across the circular table. "This contains the papers confirming your dual citizenship. Also there is a copy of your official birth certificate."

  Jan took the envelope. She quickly examined the papers then placed them back in the envelope and stuffed the envelope in her small purse. She stood and this time Kelly followed suit.

  "Thank you, Mr. Kelly." They shook hands.

  "I appreciate your business, Mrs. Wiley. Please consider I-RES for any of your future needs," Kelly said.

  Jan thanked him again and left.

  There won't be any future needs, she thought. My son and I have our home, our sanctuary from this mean old world.

  Jan reversed her Metro journey and found herself back at the convention in time for the luncheon. She took her seat, commiserated with her tablemates – suddenly interested in her once she identified herself as Ben Wiley's wife – and choked down as much of the b
raised duck as she could.

  She split her attention between the men and women who were determined to discuss the 'real Ben Wiley' and the VIP's who sat on the dais, including her old boss Elias Turnbull. She couldn't allow him to leave without speaking to him.

  Finally the lunch was over and the attendees slowly migrated back to their seminars and working sessions focused on solving the problems of the three and a half billion women on the planet. Jan Sugerfoot Wiley was focused on the problems of one woman – herself. She made a beeline for Elias as the man struggled to escape some unwanted attention. As she got close they made eye contact. A hearty grin spread across Elias' face.

  "If the president is re-elected next year, he needs to focus on human rights," an elderly man said to Elias. "He needs to stop being such a wimp on the world stage." He waged a finger in Elias' face.

  "Yes, Mr. President," Elias responded.

  "And tell him to stop letting those Republicans push him around."

  "Yes, sir," Elias said. He wondered why he was getting this lecture. Couldn't Jimmy Carter deliver this message to Obama in person?

  Jan pushed by the former president – who she failed to recognize – and greeted Elias with a kiss on the cheek.

  Elias gave Carter an apologetic look and the old war horse drifted off.

  Elias took Jan's arm and the pair found a quieter corner. "You wanted to see me?" he asked. Jan nodded, looked around. There were still people within earshot.

  "I need to talk to you in private." She looked around again. "There are too many eyes here, human and otherwise."

  Elias didn't know if she meant human and zombie or human and electronic but he felt the same. This was not the time to raise Wiley's suspicions by conducting a high profile conversation with his wife.

  "Are you able to leave the conference?" he asked.

  "No," she said. She was not going to attempt another flight from the facility.

  Elias thought for a few moments. "The organizers had made available a series of private suites to be used by VIP's for breakout sessions and high level negotiations. I had told them that I didn't need one. I'll tell them I had a change of plans and text you with the room number. We'll meet in a half hour?"