by Jack Wallen
Fargo, North Dakota
Darkness had become my enemy. And this time the darkness was a sentient being, hot and probing. The heat of the blackness seeped inside and around every possible inch of my body. My skin came alive with the fear of the unknown. And just as the unknown became the known – everything changed. I was soaking in a hot mud bath within a spa. The sounds of tranquility were everywhere. God-awful zen music, the kind everyone seems to think is so relaxing, droned on. Yanni on Valium. Some God of a naked man, chiseled abs and chin, knelt beside my bath and offered me a drink. Inside the shiny crystal glass was a thick, brown liquid. Floating on top of the brown water was an eyeball. The eyeball looked at me and blinked. I thrashed about in shock and realized the mud bath was actually a rank, human chum-filled tank.
A tortured chorus of baby cries filled the room, like the chime on a clock made in Hell. And then – a thunderous, vibrating ‘thunk’ was heard. Before the echo of the first ‘thunk’ faded, everyone in the spa of doom scattered.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
The maker of noise finally appeared. It was probably ten feet high and nothing but muscle. The entire body was covered with a skin that looked like brain. The brain-skin pulsed at random. What would be the head was nothing but a jagged, rotten tooth-filled hole. At the end of the right arm was no hand, but a giant, grafted hammer made of human bone. The thing hoisted its hammer high and brought it crashing down to the floor.
I ran. My feet slipped and slid on viscera and discarded entrails. By the time I reached the door to the spa, I was covered in brown, red, and black goo. The smell was nauseating. My gore-slick fingers slipped off the door handle. My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.
The foul stench of the brain-man’s breath overtook the air around me. With each exhalation I could feel the sticky strands of hair on my cheek dry and crust over.
Just as it seemed the monster was going to open wide and devour me whole, the Hell-baby clock chimed. The reverberating sounds of the cry sent shock waves of terror through the monster’s muscles. The thing turned and ran from the room, bashing its bone-hammer at anything that dared be in its way.
I woke, the sound of Jacob, his cries piercing my eardrums. With eyes half-open, I got out of bed and rummaged through the food pack. Another can of formula, another bottle, another feeding. Jacob went silent as soon as the liquid hit the back of his throat.
God, being a mother in the apocalypse was a real pain in the ass.
It took the baby no time to suck the bottle dry. Hopefully, he’d make it through the rest of the night without another bottle or a diaper change – at least that was the plan. I needed sleep or we’d never make it to Seattle.
When my head hit the pillow, my conscience locked onto some fragment from the dream. My subconscious mind was trying to warn me of something. I fumbled in the dark for a pen and paper. I found a pen, but no paper. On my left forearm, in giant letters, I wrote:
SPA.
It had to mean something. Hopefully, a rested mind in the morning would help me decipher this clue.
Chapter 12
November 21, 2016 10:15 AM
Fargo, North Dakota
“Bethany. Wake up!”
The sound of the voice pulled me back from sleep. Thankfully, no other fucked up nightmare haunted the dark recesses of my mind.
When I finally sat up, and my conscience was up to speed with my cloudy eyes, another sound blew the fog of sleep away.
Moaning.
“Where is it? Where are they?”
I sat up, trying my best to remain as calm as possible. There was no reason to panic my baby and tagalongs.
“I don’t know. Everywhere. What are we going to do?”
Echo was near hysteria.
My brain instantly dropped into survival mode… as if it didn’t live in that state permanently.
“Quick. Hand me my laptop.”
When in doubt, always fall back on what you did best. I was a hacker. Gabe handed me the backpack containing the laptop that helped me crack the Mengele Virus code. That piece of hardware would go to my grave.
As soon as the computer was booted, I plugged into a network jack and waited for the laptop to snag an IP address from the hotel’s router. When the network indicator informed me all was good to go, I fired up my favorite network topology tool to get the lay of the land. It didn’t take long for me to locate the server hosting the feeds from the security cameras around the inside and outside of the building. Within seconds I had control of every electric eye on the premises.
“Shit.”
What I saw was not good. Every floor of the building was overrun by moaners. There was no way we were getting out the same way we came in.
“Oh my god! Bethany, what are we going to do?”
Echo finally reached full panic. I grabbed her by arms and steadied her. I stared deep into the girl’s eyes and tried to will her to calm down. It didn’t work. I had to come up with a plan and do it quickly.
So I went back to the laptop. The cameras had all the information we needed. That information would be our freedom. I clicked through every internal camera. There was no way. The floors were flooded with the undead.
It wasn’t until I switched to the outside camera facing our room window that I got the idea.
“We’re going out the window. It’s only a few flights, so we can create a rope out of the sheets, climb down, and get to the car.”
Even before I could get reactions from the crew, I was yanking sheets from the bed and tying overly cautious knots at the end of each.
“You can’t be serious. How are we going to get Jacob out there?” Gabe surprised me by turning chicken.
“We’ll lower you two down first. After you’re on the ground, I’ll lower the supplies and then Jacob. Once you have everything, I’ll climb down, we’ll get in the car, and drive the fuck out of here.”
There was no push-back from either Echo or Gabe. It looked like we had a plan. We immediately put the plan into action and started packing everything up. It was a shock our voices didn’t draw unwanted attention from the undead tourists.
“Who first?” Echo looked at me, ready to launch.
“We should send Gabriel down with a gun. He can make sure the area is cleared before we send send anyone else, Echo.”
“I’m good with that.” Gabe nervously nodded his head as he spoke.
It took a moment for Echo to give in, but she did. I put Echo and Gabe in charge of splicing together the rope. I had a last minute task I wanted to take care of before I packed up the laptop. Having network connectivity was a luxury I knew wasn’t going to continue on forever, so I needed to take advantage of it while it lasted.
The task was looking up ‘ZRT’ – the number on the downed man’s phone at the truck stop. A Google search brought up plenty of results, but it wasn’t until I hit the fifth page that I got what I was looking for.
Zombie Response Team.
That had to be it.
They had a website. I checked it – they were legit. According to their site, the Zombie Response Team is a group of individuals dedicated to the eradication of the walking dead. I had the direct hotline to this group. I wrote down a few of the more prominent names for later use: Dan Parker, Joshua Garcia, and Morgan Barnhart.
With that information in my hands, I shut down the laptop, packed it away, and started lowering our bags to the ground.
Bam!
A familiar knocking rocked the door of the room. The thick wood wouldn’t manage to sustain such blows for long. I had to pick up the pace. The only problem was, the last thing I had to deliver to the ground below was Jacob. There was no way I would rush the lowering of my child down three stories. But I had no choice.
Carefully, I tied the end of the sheet to the car seat handle. I double, triple checked the knot. Once I felt it safe, I slowly lifted the car seat out the window and began to lower. Hand over shaking hand, the seat descended to the groun
d below.
Bam!
A menacing moan followed the crushing blow of the meaty sounding fist. The single moan became a chorus of moans, the single pound multiplied until a monstrous popcorn cooked on the other side of the wall.
I continued lowering. Echo stood, arms stretched to heaven, waiting for the precious cargo.
Bam!
The door was about to give up the ghost. I loosened my grip and let the sheet slide. The burn of my fingers and palms came on quickly.
Bam!
Bam!
Crack!
The wood of the door splintered. Even with the continued burn, I let the sheets slide through.
The door split in two. The sounds of moaners filled the room.
“Got him!”
Echo’s voice wafted up from below.
It was my turn. With my backpack secured, I swung my left leg over and started out. One of the moaners managed to get his rotten fingers on my pack and yanked me back into the room. I collapsed on the floor. There were four of them, all glaring down at me with drooling mouths and sour-milk eyes. The fuckers never changed. The same sound, the same look. It seemed zombie would never go out of fashion.
“You fucking bastards!”
All four of the undead grabbed at me and lowered their gnashing mouths my way. This wasn’t the movies, they weren’t about to take turns. My legs were free, so I swung around and kicked up hard. The heel of my shoe connected with a jaw. The disgusting crunch made me want to laugh and puke at the same time. I had no idea why doing damage to a zombie made me want to laugh. There was some karmic joy in the act.
I kicked up again, this time a swing and a miss. Fortunately, the momentum of my kick brought me back down hard enough to remind me I had a gun in my back pocket. It was like landing on your keys, only worse. Thankfully, the gun didn’t go off.
My hand shot behind me and pulled the pistol from its hiding place. During the quick arch around my shoulders, I managed to disengage the safety. As soon as the gun was between me and the undead quartet, the trigger was pulled. The spatter of blood and brain clearly indicated the first shot hit the home of homes.
One zombie down, three to go.
The noise took the remaining zombies by surprise. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I swear I saw the look of fear flash through their eyes.
I had the upper hand.
The next zombie to come down on me found the barrel of the gun lodged all the way to his soft palette. When the trigger was pulled, the back side of his skull was aired out for his friends to behold. The twice-dead zombie dropped its full weight onto me. The dead weight of the beast was almost unmovable. The body also made a great shield. The hole in the head of the zombie was positioned perfectly so I could see the sites of my gun.
As the third and fourth zombie attempted to get to me through their buddy, I scoped them out, pulled the trigger, and wasted yet another zombrain. Three down, one to go. I couldn’t miss.
The fourth zombie grabbed the pile of death on top of me and yanked it out of his way. Face off time. I stood and backed away from the monster. There was no telling how many bullets remained in the gun. To be honest, I didn’t have time to find out. Instead of diving deep into the land of fighting, I pocketed my weapon, dove for the window, grabbed the sheet rope, and lowered myself out of the room. I know it would have been more responsible to take out the last zombie – but I had to get down to the ground and make sure my baby was okay. And there was no way I was about to be a hero, only to wind up orphaning Jacob. He was my soul purpose, I wasn’t about to let him down.
The zombie reached out with his hands and grabbed. He got lucky and tangled his fingers up in my hair. I wasn’t going anywhere without inflicting some serious pain on myself.
“Come on Bethany! We have to go, now!” Echo called up in desperation.
Oh how I wished I could. But with zombie fingers tangled up in ones hair, it’s not terribly easy to get away. All I could do was hope for the best. The best, of course, didn’t include me forcing my way down and losing a large hunk of hair in the process.
I still had my gun. The only challenge would be to continue to hold onto the rope with one hand and aim the pistol with the other. Fear was a powerful motivator. I twisted the rope around my right wrist and, once the rope felt secure enough, released my left hand so it could reach around into my pocket and grab the weapon. As soon as my arm reached around me, my body started spinning. The tangled hair started growing tighter with each spin. The flesh on my skull grew angry with strain. I wanted to kick physics in the junk at the moment. There was no time for high wire acts.
My fingers felt the cold metal of the pistol and grabbed. As soon as I had my hand wrapped around the handle of the weapon, I swung it around and forced the barrel into the right eye of the zombie. I could feel the squish and pop of the eyeball and, when I did, I sent the barrel on home. The gun dug in about an inch until it hit bone. The brain of the zombie made for the perfect silencer. When the trigger was pulled, the sound was like an overripe watermelon crashing and splashing to the ground and nothing more.
There was no time to cheer, no time to enjoy the victory. Any moment the hotel would be overrun by moaners. The second the scent of live flesh traveled around area, the place would be crawling with the walking dead.
I hit the ground running – literally. My feet barely gave my body time to recover from the transition to solid ground before I was sprinting, full steam, to the car. Echo already had Jacob buckled in and both passengers were impatient to get the fuck out of this undead dodge.
As the Audi tires barked their frustration at my punching the gas pedal to the floor, I saw a mass of moaners converging on the parking lot. How we managed to get away so close to critical mass, I’ll never know.
“Oh my God! That was… oh my God!”
Echo’s voice rattled with fear. I had no way of knowing what the girl had experienced before we met, but now I’m beginning to think she hadn’t fully felt the icy grip of the Mengele Virus at its wicked best.
“Yeah, a horde of zombies. We’re safe now Echo.”
I reached over and placed my hand on Echo’s thigh. The girl needed comforting and I was the obvious lucky winner.
I glanced down at my arm and noticed ‘SPA’ scrawled in black ink. The twisted nightmare came flooding back in a wash of brown muck. There was something for me to remember – some warning as if comfort was nothing more than a facade for horror. That thought, of course, led to me second guessing everything. Was this trip a mistake or a trap? There was always the possibility that the ZDC was waiting for us in Seattle.
Chapter 13
November 21, 2016 4:22 PM
Miles City, Montana
It may as well have been called the ‘Miles City Massacre’. The Zombie Response Team was outnumbered nearly ten to one. No one could have predicted such a small town would be so badly overrun by the living dead. When the single truck pulled into the city limits, it was immediately clear they weren’t prepared to take on the sheer number of moaners and screamers.
The ZRT were militant about their duties. So even though Miles City presented itself as little more than a suicide mission, the deployment would do everything they could to fulfill their task.
Clear the path for Nitshimi and son.
Jonas, the leader of ZRT Unit MC01, had his mobile in hand and Morgan Barnhart’s number dialed.
“Talk to me.” The imp-ish Texas twang of the ZRT leader rang out on speakerphone.
“This is Jonas, leader of MC01. We have a situation.”
A situation. No matter what was going down, A situation was always code for We are fucked.
“SITREP Jonas.”
“I have my entire team here – that’s eleven guys. It looks like we’re about to face well over one hundred undead. We’re locked and loaded, but I can’t say I like these odds. Your call?”
Morgan didn’t even hesitate to offer an answer. “My call is, you fight. There’s no other answer at t
his point than your taking down every God Damn moaner and screamer possible. I can’t make this clear enough – that woman absolutely has to make it to Seattle. Do you hear me?”
It wasn’t customary to hear the leader of the ZRT barking out such orders. The MC01 unit was most likely on a one way ride out of the Mengele nightmare. Jonas knew Barnhart couldn’t pull them out. This mission had to be seen through until the end. If Bethany was lost along the way, the slim chance the world had would be lost with her.
“Give them everything you’ve got.” Was the final call from the ZRT brass. Jonas had every intention of following through with that order – and then some.
“Lock and load ladies. I want full fire as soon as boots hit the ground. Open up and drop the dead.” Jonas barked the command to psych his crew up. They were nervous. Jonas liked that a bit of fear was spreading through the group’s nervous system. Fear made soldiers sharp. At least that’s what Jonas hoped.
The transport vehicle came to a stop at what looked like a high school parking lot. The gate of the vehicle was dropped and the crew’s boots hit pavement as soon as they were able to leap out of the truck bed.
The first sight the crew beheld nearly sent them all packing back into their mother’s wombs. Nearly one hundred zombies stood in a row, waiting, as if they were prepared for the fight that lay ahead. It was always one thing to take on a clueless, brainless monster. But at this very moment, it seemed, the zombies had been waiting… but for what? They couldn’t have known The ZRT was coming. As the undead Red Rover line stood, it swayed back and forth as one. The Hell-spawned chorus of moans was as disturbing as was the sight of the chorus line of death.
This was going to get ugly, fast.
The first wave of the ZRT unit met the horde head on. From the beginning of the tousle it was clear who would win this slaughter. If the ZRT was going to succeed, the tides of war would have to drastically shift.
The mechanical rattle of machine gun fire filled the area. Jonas knew the noise would most likely draw the attention of even more zombies. Judging from the amount of undead in the immediate vicinity versus the overall population, there was little to no chance the ZRT would win this first assault wave. The bullets punctured the flesh of the living dead. Bits and pieces of meat and bone flew through the air. Not one piece of ammunition managed to penetrate a moaner’s skull. Aim was off. The zombies, on the other hand, did manage to get their cold, dead fingers wrapped around members of the MC01 first wave. With inhuman strength, the skulls were popped like uncooked eggs. Brains squished and slopped to the ground.
