by Jack Wallen
“Oh fuck, Jamal. I left Jacob with those two. I’ll be – ”
Jamal stopped me before I took off. He was pointing toward the exit of the room. When I turned, Echo was standing in the doorway holding Jacob’s bassinet.
“He wouldn’t stop crying. I figured he wanted his mom.”
It was clear Echo had joined Jacob in the tear-fest. I ran to her, took the bassinet, and held Echo’s face gently in my hand.
“Echo… what’s wrong? Did Gabe – ”
“He didn’t hurt me. But when Jacob wouldn’t stop crying, Gabe got all weird and said he had to leave.”
Echo wrapped her arms around me and the flood gates opened. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Had her hormones taken over and kicked logic to the curb? It didn’t feel that way. I knew well the siren sounds of the hormonal teen and this was not it.
“What’s wrong Echo. You can talk to me.”
The young girl pulled back and looked up at me. Her eyes were salty fountains flooding the landscape of flesh below.
“It’s crazy but… just hearing Jacob cry for you made me realize what I’d missed out on. I’ve done my best to convince myself that I’m not afraid – but I am. And until you came along, I had no one. Now I’m afraid of losing you.”
The surprisingly strong arms wrapped around me once more. I mistakenly glanced over at Jamal who was Cheshire-grinning from here to Wonderland. I held out the bassinet to Jamal who immediately picked up on the message and grabbed Jacob from me. With both arms now free, I returned a solid embrace to Echo.
“Echo – with what I know, and what I’ve survived, I don’t think you have to worry about losing me. You stick with me and everything will be okay.”
God, I hated making promises. It seemed every time I made a promise bad things happened. Especially to young girls. But how could I not? If for any other reason than to honor the memory of Susan. I had to protect this young girl.
“Promise?” Echo’s eyes nearly sucked me into a game of hormone twister.
“Promise.”
And there it was. The word of doom spoken. I may as well pinky swear and go all rom com sisterhood and swear we’d be double-dating as soon as I ended the apocalypse.
Good God what has become of me? I was a hard-core hacker with a streak of punk as strong as my monthly desire for chocolate. Yet here I am, the second time in a year I’ve been overly protective of a young girl.
“Echo, I need you to do me a favor. I have to build a device to protect our new little world here. Can you hang out with us? Keep me and Jacob company for a while?”
She had no idea the plan was to keep her here so I could watch out for her. The girl was riding a roller coaster of emotion. There was no way I’d let her out of my sight now.
The twinkle in Echo’s eye was all the answer I needed.
“So, what are you building?” Echo grabbed Jacob from Jamal and sat down, cross-legged, on the floor.
I explained, in lay-girls terms, how the Obliterator came about and how it was built. There was no small sadness in knowing the retelling of Jacob’s story was getting easier and easier. Maybe seeing Jamal again made that possible. Or maybe the apocalypse simply healed all wounds to the heart faster. Was that a sign love would become a thing of the past? I couldn’t imagine the human race surviving without the effect of Cupid’s mad-bastard arrow.
Fuck. Listen to me? Up until the last year, my life was ruled by ones and zeros. Love was nothing more than this intangible collection of endorphins and hormones acting as neuromodulators for the brain. Like everything else, love could be broken down by science. But I’ve let that prime directive slip by me. I lied to my own core system of beliefs and tenets.
The lies keep piling up.
“So what does the Obliterator sound like? Will it hurt if I hear it?”
It was nice to see Echo take such an interest in what I was doing. Everything shared with her from this moment on would go a long way to ensure her survival.
“Nothing more than an annoyance to you and me. But to the undead, it’s like Fran Dresher’s voice through a megaphone crafted from the larynx of Gilbert Gottfried. You won’t believe their reactions. They’ll run away crying to their zombie mommies.”
Echo laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard a young girl laugh from the gut and the heart. It was refreshing. My arms wanted to reach out, pull her to me, and never let her go.
God, I almost rickrolled myself. The apocalypse is truly and unmistakably dry-humping me from every angle.
“It’s ready for a test. I’ll keep the volume low so it doesn’t hurt your ears in this small room. Ready?”
Echo put her hands to her ears and nodded.
“One. Two. Three!”
The too-familiar, high-pitched oscillating sound jumped from the loudspeaker and punched me in the gut. The volume was much higher than I expected. Echo looked at me with a furrowed brow and yelled.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt. You must have an incredibly high tolerance to pain!”
I eased the volume back down to a less painful level, just loud enough that we could hear it and still talk at normal decibels.
“Is that the sound? That’s what causes the undead to crap their diapers?”
“The very sound. I’ve heard it so many times I can almost produce it myself. This beautiful music will keep those monsters from storming our castle.”
Before I could shut the sound off, Jamal was at my side.
“Do you have the numbers for the sound coded into a usable API I could add to my Watcher program?”
“You’re still watching Buffy reruns aren’t you? You always had a thing for blonds.”
“Oh ho! And Bethany drops the B-bomb on me. Girl, you know my needle always points to red. Always has and always will.”
Echo’s laugh instantly turned Jamal a deep shade of embarrassed. Like catching your parents making out in front of the TV.
“And where’s that needle pointing now?”
We all had a good laugh, which was cut short by the entrance of Morgan.
“Guys, I hate to interrupt the pajama party, but the bone-zombies are getting really close.”
I turned the sound of the obliterator back up to inform Morgan we were ready. And with that, Jamal set out to send a crew outside to hang the loudspeakers above all the entryway doors. Once the loudspeakers were plugged into the system, all we had to do was fire up the software.
Jamal and I shared a desk with two computers. We had a bit of coding and compiling to do – which would take us all of ten minutes. We were both so accustomed to one another’s style, it never took us any amount of time to combine efforts (or code).
“Damn B, your code is almost as sexy as you.”
Blush. I could feel it. Within the span of, what, thirty minutes I experienced more firsts than I had in years.
“So does that sound have to play all the time?” Echo reminded us she was there – and also reminded us to use our age-appropriate voices.
Fuck.
“Actually Echo, we’ve combined Bethany’s alarm with my zombie recognition software to create a system that would only turn the noise up if zombies are spotted. That way we don’t have to hear that sound playing twenty-four seven. Otherwise, we’d probably all lose our minds.”
Jamal flashed his big, toothy smile at Echo. Had the girl been over eighteen she’d be little more than a puddle of moist. Jamal had that way with the girls. Echo thankfully tossed him back an innocent smile. The girl was immune to Jamal’s charm. Lucky thing. Without so much as a flinch, Echo grabbed Jacob’s bassinet and informed me she was going to head back to her room for a little quiet time with her favorite little human.
What in the Hell would I do without my babysitter?
The sound of a voice cracked out of a radio. The last of the loudspeakers was mounted and hot. Jamal grabbed the radio and called back.
“We’ll run a test. I want everyone to report in as soon as you hear the sound.” J
amal turned to me. “B, would you do the honors?”
I ran the command for the test program, obliterator —testmode. Shortly after I hit the Enter key to execute the command, the reports poured in. One hundred percent success rate. Now that we knew all speakers were in working order, I issued the command to start the software in Watcher mode. Now all we could do was sit back and wait for the undead to arrive. If everything worked as planned, the zombie horde would be instantly turned away, bearing insufferable pain.
Chapter 23
November 25, 2016 6:21 AM
Unknown location, Zero Day Collective: Zombie Collection Unit
The drop-ship returned with its third load of undead cargo. This time, the awaiting officer in charge had different orders.
“Prep the ship for drop-off. We’re dumping an undead payload in San Antonio, Texas.”
The pilot of the ship titled his head, unsure of what was going on. “I was told – ”
“Do I look like I give a damn what you were told? Pilot, you are to pack the belly of that ship with zombies and fly it to the coordinates transmitted to your flight deck. Are you incapable of doing your duty? If you are, I can have you dismissed and relieved immediately? I don’t think I need to tell you what happens to soldiers who have been relieved of duty from the Zero Day Collective.”
The soldier stood at rigid attention. “No sir! You do not sir!”
The barked response echoed off the metal walls of the hanger.
“I want you in the air as soon as possible.”
The commander turned and marched off. No more information was offered. None was necessary. The pilot did not need to know anything about the mission other than what his cargo was and where it was going.
Everyone knew the process for getting the zombies onto the drop ship. Without something to entice the undead into the belly of the metal beast, the monsters would either stand and sway, or tear one another limb from limb. The only route to success was with living flesh.
While the pilot was out gathering up the last payload, another soldier was tasked with collecting a few desperate civilians to serve as the proverbial dangling carrot. The civilians were told only that they would be fed – just not that they would be fed to something.
The civilians were brought out in chains, and forced up into the drop ship. Their desperate screams and pleadings rattled the belly of the machine. The cries of anguish over-powered the sounds of the shackles being locked to the back wall of the drop ship.
The ground soldier stepped out of the ship and stowed himself away, surrounded by the thick steel walls of the control room. The moaners and screamers would never breach the walls of control; it simply wasn’t possible.
“Release the hounds!” The pilot laughed as he slammed his open palm onto the giant red button to release over one hundred moaners and screamers onto innocent victims. When the call of the undead echoed off the inside of the drop ship, the pleas from the humans rose once again. Cries for help were immediately overpowered by the ripping of flesh and breaking of bone.
Death.
“Hit it Roscoe!” The pilot called out to the foot soldier, who then took his turn to slam his open palm onto another switch; one that closed the doors to the drop ship, sealing the beasts within.
“Locked and loaded.”
As the door to the drop ship roared to life, the undead continued on with their reverse Darwinian buffet. When the heavy metal door sealed out light and sound, the pilot kicked the engines up to speed and the ship began its journey down the short runway.
“This is Air Romero calling base. I’m in flight and bound for San Antonio, will report back when the package has been delivered.”
The pilot cut off communication and took at quick glance at the intended coordinates. He knew the area and knew landing was going to be as much of a fuck off and die as was taking off. With a three hour flight ahead of him, the best he could do was relax and enjoy the peace. At the moment nothing could touch him – it was just him and the bluest sky he’d ever seen.
And a plane full of zombies.
Chapter 24
November 25, 2016 10:45 AM
Zombie Response Team: San Antonio Unit
“Samuel to Koenig. We’re coming in hot with a transport full of survivors. We’re going to need a medical team at entryway three. Have a full surgical unit prepped; we have a couple of fairly serious wounds.”
The Lieutenant didn’t bother to wait for a response. He knew the pat answer that would follow – bring them in and head back out. That seemed to be their entire MO now – survivor sweeps. It was becoming quite clear they were to cover the entire seventy square miles of the metropolitan city, until all survivors had been moved into New San A. Thank God the transport had an MP3 jack – otherwise, navigating at speeds of twenty-five miles per hour would quickly grow suicidal-tiresome.
The transport pulled up to the dock and began the unloading process.
That was when Hell decided to stop by for a visit.
It all began with a deep rumbling sound, almost like a distant thundering herd of cattle running. When the all-too familiar lowing and moaning sound tickled the tympanic membranes of the ZRT soldiers, everyone knew what was coming. An undead swarm was about to wreck the party.
A silent alarm sounded. In place of the usual klaxon was a pulsing red light, informing anyone in the know the undead were closing in. It was action stations and go time for all packing and able to use.
“Koenig to Samuel. SITREP.”
Lieutenant Samuel did his best to gather all the necessary intel to give his commander a full report. Unfortunately, all he knew was that a mass of the undead were closing in. That, of course, was good enough to order every man he had to Arm for Harm.
When the orders were given, to the untrained eye, it would seem chaos had infected the headquarters. Those in the know, however, would be witnessing a danger ballet so beautiful in its execution, it would steal the breath of even the hardest hearted of drill instructors. The scrambling sounds of chaos lasted all of ten minutes. Once the dust had settled, every soldier had a gun trained on the swirling cloud of dust just within eyesight.
The whirling Hell-dervish drew ever closer. The sound was filled with dissonant undertones, disturbing beyond any imagination. All soldiers knew the drill; no firing until given orders. Wasting ammunition was a new cardinal sin in the religion of realism. All soldiers held their shot and their breath.
The size of the dust cloud being kicked up meant a horde. A horde meant many bullets would fly. Many bullets could easily translate to many a missed shot. No one needed a Vin diagram for that eventuality.
“What kind do you think we’ll be up against sir?”
Lieutenant Samuel looked down at Corporal Beaner, the youngest of all his men. The young man’s weapon was shaking.
Samuel lifted his binoculars toward the sandy cloud. The news to report wasn’t good and wouldn’t ease the young Corporal’s mind one big.
“Judging from the height and density of the cloud, I’m guessing we’re going up against moaners and screamers.”
“But no boners?”
The nickname for the bone-armored zombies was tragic, but no one seemed to think the undead would mind. The name also tempered the fear instilled by the new flavor of fear mongers.
“I can’t say. Let’s just concentrate on getting your first shot off. Remember, steady breath makes steady aim.”
Samuel patted Beaner on the shoulder. The act seemed to bolster the kid’s confidence enough to keep him from wetting himself with fear.
The binoculars eased back up to Samuel’s eyes, only to see the oncoming swarm of monsters well enough to know he and his men were swimming deep in the waters of trouble. There were no moaners in the horde – this was nothing but screamers and boners. The situation jumped instantly to Defcon 1. The pistol was cocked. Nuclear war was imminent. All just metaphor for Oh shit!
The Lieutenant brought his radio to his lips. Everything seemed to slow do
wn around him. This was a moment he never wanted to see happen – a fight to the end. Only one side would come out victorious. Samuel had to do everything in his power to make sure the spoils of this war was not brain-pan soup.
“All soldiers prepare to open fire on my mark.”
Judgment day came in all shapes and sizes.
“Soldiers ready.”
Every soldier and civilian knew death longed to crack open their skulls and dine on the sweet meat within
“Soldiers aim.”
The apocalypse was hungry.
“Fire!”
The heavy metal popcorn brought New San A to life. The collective trigger finger of the ZRT danced across the metal of the gun. Bullet after bullet sailed through the spans between barrel and beast.
“They’re not going down sir!” Beaner cried out.
“Keep firing soldier. You don’t stop until either you or those bastards are dead. You hear me?”
“Yes sir!”
Beaner continued rattling his death-dealer at the oncoming monsters. Still, the dust cloud marched toward the city. Eventually flailing arms could be seen, just above the nearly six foot high wall of flying dirt and flesh. The way the arms moved clearly indicated screamers. Scattered within the pale, rotten fleshy arm meat was the tragic site of hardened bone.
Samuel trained soldiers and soldiers never left their post. Even when the beast of beasts was revealed among the bringers of pain and suffering, not one man budged. All weapons continued to heat up the air. Slowly but surely, the number of zombies dwindled – at least the screamers. As for the boners, the bullets bounced and popped off their exoskeletons, only serving to piss them off even more.
The scratchy, metallic screeching of the boners cracked through the air, raising the arm hair and fear level of the soldiers. Lieutenant Samuel’s radio lit up with voices.
“Sir, they aren’t going down!”
“Sir, what are we going to do?”
“Sir, should we retreat?”
They may as well have been lobbing Nerf bullets at the zombies. With little thought on the matter, Samuel opted to go with a few rounds of the heavy artillery. It was standard operating procedure to avoid using anything louder than a machine gun. Samuel switched his radio to simultaneously broadcast to all listening channels; he wanted to be sure no soldier missed his message.
