Lie Zombie Lie (I Zombie)

by Jack Wallen

  After Jamal explained to everyone what we were doing, we sealed the door shut, and stared out the large inch-thick window. None of us really had any idea what would happen with the test – not even Jamal or me. Theoretically we knew what should occur. But then again, both Jamal and I knew what everything should theoretically do. All things could be derived down to the most basic math equation. Problem was, once you boiled it down to the bare minimum, sifting out the meaning from the remains was often a challenge few could meet.

  ‘Few’ rarely included the likes of me and Jamal.

  Jamal gave me the look. That look was special and would only be picked up by me. It meant If this fails, it’s been a pleasure knowing you. When my eyes caught Jamal’s, a deep sadness threatened to pull the carpet from under my feet. My brain and my heart were overcome with the idea that, should this test go tits-up, I wasn’t in any way, shape, or form capable of losing yet another love. If fate was going to give us the ol’ reach around, it damn well better grab me first.

  “Everyone ready for this? I highly recommend letting your jaw hang open, just in case the change in pressure is higher than I’ve calculated. Wouldn’t want anyone going painfully deaf.” Jamal grinned and hunched over a keyboard to tap out a few commands. Finally he held up one finger that pointed straight down toward the keyboard. This was it. Go time!

  Jamal handed out precautionary ear plugs and insisted we wear them. He received no resistance. Once our ear canals were sufficiently plugged, Jamal tapped out the command sequence on the keyboard and hit Enter.

  We waited. Seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to happen. My entire body was rigid with anticipation. Any moment the exoskeleton of the zombie would shatter and we’d have our latest greatest defense against the impossible.

  Still we waited. Jamal looked over at me, a concerned look creasing his face. He shrugged and reached to pull out his ear plugs.

  And then it hit. At first it was a build up of pressure in the air – like reaching the apex of a flight. But the pressure didn’t stop at ear popping. The windows in the room bulged inward and my eye balls felt as if they were being crushed.

  As soon as the pressure began to normalize, a wall of sound punished us. Our bodies unloaded contents of either bowel or gut. No one was immune. I was lucky enough to be one of the pukers. Jamal wasn’t so lucky. Had I not been caught up in wave after wave of nausea, I might have laughed at the sight of him when he realized what had happened.

  When the wave passed, and our insides normalize, we felt another pop. This time the feeling was slight and somewhat distant. I immediately ran to the window.

  It worked. The boner’s armor had shattered, the pieces laying on the table or dropping to the floor. The beast’s vulnerable body lay prone, ready to be speared, axed, shot, chopped, burned, or piked.

  I turned to Jamal and smiled. Understandably, he didn’t join me in my celebration. He did, however, give me a thumbs up – all the while refusing to get within range of my sense of smell. The room smelled of bile and shit. The second the thought crossed my brain, I nearly vomited a second time.

  “It worked Bethany. We have our weapon. It won’t take much time to redirect the program to the external speakers. Unfortunately, we won’t have any way to broadcast a warning to anyone. That means a lot of people could die.”

  Before I could pose a response, my cell phone rang. It made no sense – anyone that would call me was in the very room in which I stood. I never made it a point to give out my number to many people, and surely phone SPAM didn’t cross the border between pre and post-apocalyptic America.

  “Hello?” I answered anyway. From the tiny speaker on the smart phone, the too-familiar sounds of cries for help spilled out. The pleas were followed by another familiar sound – the roaring of screamers and death. Finally, a voice. The same East Indian voice from before. The same smug, self-righteousness.

  “Do you hear that Bethany? That is the sound of lies. Did you really think we were going to make it that easy on you? Just broadcast the location of Jacob for the entire world to know? The Zero Day Collective is no longer that ignorant. In fact, you could say we’re as smart, if not smarter than you.”

  “Where is my baby? He’s innocent. Leave him…”

  Menacing laughter poured from the phone. “Oh my dear girl – innocence is extinct. Didn’t you know that? The second the Mengele Virus was released, mankind kissed any hope of an innocent soul goodbye. Lies are the new dollar and judging by the collection you have been amassing, you my dear woman are the richest human alive. What say we have a little trade – a truth for a truth. Would that make you feel better Bethany? I’ll even go first. Do we have a deal?”

  The line went silent. For a second I feared the man ended the call for fear of being traced. When I heard him take an impatient breath, I realized he was simply waiting for my answer.

  “Deal,” was all I said.

  “Very good. Truth: So long as you don’t do anything foolish, Jacob will not be harmed.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  Another round of laughter, only this time it was sans the menace.

  “Bethany, my dear, as the name of the game implies – that was truth and no more. Now, your turn.”

  I couldn’t do this. I was about ready to break down. Besides, what truth did I have to offer? Of course, I know what the arrogant son of a bitch was digging for. He wanted me to promise I wouldn’t come after Jacob. There was no way in Hell that was going to happen and he had to know that. I had fought too hard and come too far to give up on rescuing my baby from becoming some apocalyptic experiment. Regardless of what flowed through Jacob’s veins, he was my baby.

  “Tick tock Bethany.”

  I looked over to Jamal and pointed to my phone, hoping he’d understand I wanted him to try and trace the line. As soon as he sat down at a keyboard, I knew he got the message. The call had already gone on long enough for a trace, but since Jamal was only now jumping on, I’d have to keep the man going for a while.

  “How do I know you’re being honest?”

  Silence.

  “You don’t.”

  Silence.

  “Wait, you already handed that truth over to me during our last conversation. If you want me to play along, you better own up to something new.”

  “Well played, Miss Nitshimi.” Another pause. “How is this for a truth; should you not do as I say, your baby will wind up in liquid form. Now, if you don’t mind Bethany… I do believe you owe me a truth.”

  My mind raced around for some nugget to hand off to the man to appease him. As the plug was pulled on the drain of my thoughts, only one idea continued spiraling down…

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Nor should you Miss Nitshimi. After all, it was the Zero Day Collective, the group for which I work, that caused this nightmare to unfold. We ruined your life, we stole the man you were in love with, and now we have your child. How could you possibly trust us? Very good. At least I know you are honest.”

  Jamal was waving to me. When I looked over he was giving me the thumbs up. We had a location. The game of cat and mouse was done.

  “I have another truth for you. So long as you don’t do anything foolish, I will allow you to live. I’m done speaking with you. The next time you hear my voice, it will be the last voice you ever hear.”

  And with the tap of a smart-phone button, I managed to retain my edge. Yes, my baby was out of my hands, but he was alive and, as far as I understood, safe. So long as I did nothing foolish, Jacob would remain alive. Of course, the big variable is foolish. Who gets to define the terms? Well, that was a simple question to answer – The Zero Day Collective. I assumed by foolish the man meant me not attempting a rescue mission. That being the case, I’d have to figure out a way to covertly remove Jacob from the care and feeding of the ZDC.

  “Good news, bad news, and good news. Which do you want first?” Jamal half-smiled. “Never mind, that’s a stupid question that doesn’t really
apply to this situation, based on the relativity of…”

  “Jamal, the news,” I begged.

  “I have the man’s location. He’s on a plane. I have all pertinent flight information.”

  There was one thing Jamal overlooked. It was the apocalypse and the old-world rules no longer applied. Planes didn’t have to register flight plans or gain permission to land. There were no longer no-fly zones. Chaos had its way with the human race and it’s every man, woman, child, and monster for themselves.

  When I explained this to Jamal, he had a plan. Jamal always had a plan… it was part of his charm.

  “We can have the Zombie Response Teams on the lookout at every major airport. They spot a plane landing, they check the fuselage for the identification number. If any team spots the aircraft in question, they radio it in and we’re on them.”

  Back to the issue at hand. Our underground city was still surrounded by boners. Even if we did get an ID on the plane, we couldn’t go anywhere… at least not until we break through this first line of defense.

  “How long will it take to get the sonic weapon ready Jamal?”

  Before I could complete my question, Jamal was tapping furiously at a keyboard. When he looked up at me, the sinister grin on his face gave me all the answer I need.

  “Fire it up baby!”

  Jamal stood. He was in lecture mode – I could always tell.

  “I don’t know how well protected we will be underground. What I am about to unleash will be Man O War compared to the Celine Dion we just experienced.” Jamal immediately knew none of us got the reference. “Decibels. Man O War holds the record for the loudest decibel level for a live concert, whereas… oh never mind. It’s going to be extremely loud and I can’t be certain there will be no ill effect down here. I will set the device off with us in this room, which will further shield us from the sound.”

  Jamal and I tossed knowing glances toward one another. Untested experimentation was all fun and games in graduate school; but the real world, even a post-apocalyptic world, was no place to play mad scientist. Even so – what choice did we have?

  Jamal stood behind the computer, his finger held aloft above the Enter key. I could hear my breathing and my heart pounding. The entire scene seemed to drop into an over-used, Hollywood slow-motion moment. Jamal’s long, delicate finger moved centimeter by centimeter until the tip managed to compress the key to execution.

  We held our breath. Not a heart did beat, or an eye did blink. All was perfectly silent. And then, a massive thump jarred the entire underground city. It was a single hit from a seismic tidal wave that threatened to tilt the Earth on its axis. The thump bounced us from the floor and tripped our feet from under us.

  And that was it. No sirens, no screams, and no undead battle cry. This could easily become one of those life-defining moments. What could have possibly been our last chance… did it work or are we still surrounded by armored zombies?

  Jamal sat down at the work station and began clicking and typing again.

  “Our external cameras will tell us right away if…”

  Jamal went silent. Something was wrong.

  “What is it?” Echo’s voice clearly indicated she understood all was not right in wonderland.

  We all stood behind Jamal and stared on the monitor. Immediately I understood Jamal’s silence. Although the weapon did exactly what it was supposed to do – shatter the exoskeletons on the boners – it failed to rid us of the problem entirely. One by one, the zombies were standing back up. Yes they were shedding their bony skin, but they were still alive… all of them. We still had no way of escape.

  Jamal stood and turned to address us. “Okay, we have plenty of firepower. If we all arm ourselves we can – .”

  I stopped him cold.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I was privy to that scenario once before and it didn’t end well. That time it was trained soldiers that went up against an undead army and none of them survived. If you think we have any chance, you’re sorely mistaken. We need a plan that keeps us all alive – not something pulled out of a military-fantasy movie. We need reality.”

  “We need a tank,” Echo said, almost jokingly.

  “We have one. Sort of.”

  It was Josh’s turn to surprise us. The man who spent most of his time in the background, waiting to lock and load, lobbed his gentle voice out into the room causing all heads to turn.

  “Morgan and I arrived in our ZRT Truck – it’s armored and stocked. If you’re looking to plow through a line of zombies, it’ll do the trick.”

  “Why didn’t you…” I started to ask before I realized the only thing that mattered was that we had a way out. “Is this truck close?”

  “Less than a block away.” Morgan chimed in.

  “Oh shit.” Jamal’s voice shattered the good vibe that was building.

  “No more bad news Jamal. Please.”

  “I’m sorry Bethany, but our sonic blast shattered the drivers in the speakers. The Obliterator is off line. All of those zombies out there? The smell of our flesh? They’ll be heading our way.”

  Josh wasted no time, grabbed the door, and nearly ripped it off its hinges. “Then if we’re going to bail, we better bail now.”

  No one argued. We all took off running. Morgan insisted we make a pit stop at the armory in case we have to defend ourselves on our way to the truck. Smart girl. I insisted I stop and grab a backpack with a laptop, an aircard, and a copy of the save_my_baby.sh program. We’d need the ability to locate transmissions if we were going to be serious about tracking down the Zero Day Collective. Something I took very, very seriously.

  At the armory, everyone but Echo and I grabbed guns. I had my pike in hand and I pulled out a bow and quiver of arrows for Echo. It seemed a bit cliché, but it made sense that a young girl would be less capable of killing a friendly with an arrow than a gun. Of course, I’ve seen the girl in action – there was probably little (if anything) to worry about.

  We were ready to fight. All we had to do was make it to the truck alive.

  Before we reached the door I asked Josh to make sure he had the keys. I wasn’t about to let plot convenience theatre smack us upside the head with an Oh shit, I can’t find the keys! moment.

  We reached the door. Jamal hesitated, his hand on the handle. None of us were sure what was on the other side of the door. It could be freedom, it could be the end. Either way, we had to pull it open and go through, guns a blazin’ or not.

  When Jamal threw the door open, the cold afternoon air bit into our exposed skin and the sunlight made pinholes of our eyes.

  The undead were not in the immediate vicinity. Lady luck would get a big kiss on the face later.

  “This way.” Josh whispered.

  We took off after Josh. For a big guy, the man could haul ass. Of course it helped to light a fire under your feet when you knew there were hundreds of the undead coming your way. As we sprinted, our lungs were punished by the sharp, cold air and our ears were assaulted by the hate-filled sounds of the on-coming undead horde. Jamal was right – they knew exactly where we were and they were un-dead set on cracking open our skulls.

  “There’s the truck!” Josh barked out.

  And what a truck it was. Calling it a ‘truck’ was like calling a Hummer a car. This truck was an iron-clad, steel-belted, warrior machine with a large ZRT logo professionally painted on the doors. I was certain we’d all need step ladders to climb on board and the power of the Gods to get the beast moving.

  We were a half-block away from the machine when the first wave of zombies came into view. As soon as they spotted us they each let loose a roar to rattle the timbers of the very city. Josh didn’t lose a step as he released a shot to drop the first of the monsters.

  Monsters was the only way to describe what we were seeing. Stripped of their armor, these zombies looked naked, their skin a translucent pinkish-brown color. But in their nakedness, there wasn’t an ounce of vulnerability. There was only rage.
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br />   One of the beasts stopped to flex and roar. The muscles in the zombie’s neck stretched as tight as aircraft wire, the facial structure threatened to break and shatter under the vicious strain. As the beast was posing, Echo leaped on top of an upturned car, knocked an arrow, and sent it flying straight into the skull of the zombie. The girl didn’t even celebrate, she just hopped off the car and continued on toward the truck. Thanks to the apocalypse, even a tween could act professionally.

  Josh was the first to the truck. He ran around opening all doors and finally jumped into the driver’s seat. Morgan was next to reach the truck, and next to fire off a few shots. Her first two rounds were off, but her third managed to drop the nearest zombie. Morgan then climbed up on top of the truck and sat down behind a large-caliber gun mounted on a swivel.

  “Hurry! Get in!” Morgan screamed out as she swung the monstrous weapon around to take aim at the approaching horde.

  “You better cover your ears! This bitch is about to get ugly!” Morgan shouted before she unleashed the loudest barrage of hate I’d heard in a long while. The gun was almost deafening. I dared a glance up to Morgan who looked like she was screaming as she fought to control the weapon. Her screams went unheard. The only sound was war and this time, war was the answer.

  Echo, Jamal, and I quickly crawled into the back seat of the truck. Josh reached across the passenger seat and pulled the final door closed. He pounded his meaty fist on the roof of the vehicle, fired up the engine, and punched the gas. The continued blasting from up top assured us that Morgan managed to remain on the roof. Had that not convinced us, the dropping of the undead would have. Morgan was a dead-eye shot.

  “Oh fuck me sore.” Josh’s deep bass of a voice growled.