CHAPTER 15
Washington, DC
Don Baker had seen many mind-blowing things before in his life, but nothing compared to this. His stomach was turning into knots as his nephew, Jack, explained what he was watching. All of the triumphs of mankind, from the automobile to the nuclear bomb to the Internet, seemed minute in comparison to what he was beholding. The zombie point of view was a disturbing thing, but it fascinated him as nothing ever had before. He was hunched over on the bench as Jack explained.
“It’s amazing, what we have learned over the past several months, Don. The XT Serum worked miracles of sorts. The brain function of the zombies went from five percent to just around twenty. The entire nervous system was at our disposal. We could explore the brain from the very top, and down to the bottom of the spine. Since the zombies don’t feel, we could do just about anything.”
“But, if their nerves are firing, won’t they feel pain?” Don inquired.
“Nope. No emotions, either. They’re like robots made of flesh and bone. Here, let me have your screen.”
“Couldn’t you have just used little cameras like our military uses? I’m sure it would have been easier and cost much less.”
“We can do both. As a matter of fact, those cameras are back-up, seeing as how the zombie eyes are still in an experimental phase. But it’s amazing; the zombie's lens is so superior to the smaller camera lenses. We were even able to make a breakthrough on using the eyes to help guide them. It’s sweet!”
The excitement in Jack’s voice disturbed Don. The younger man over forty years his junior, seemed to have become obsessed with the amazing world of zombies. Don was carrying enough guilt already for having taken part in the outbreak, and now he had drawn his nephew into some psychotic-thriller world that kept morphing into something else. Don never would have believed the zombies could have wrought the amount of damage they had. It was supposed to be just another big government scare tactic, a little something to keep the world in line. He had been certain that even after the intervention of Nate McDaniel, the plug would be pulled and the world would churn back to normal. But now it was clear the WHS had other plans. And the worst thing was they were clearly plans that he wasn’t being included in.
Jack handed him back his computer, saying, “Just watch the screen, Uncle Don.”
Don’s chin dipped down. On the screen, he could see a cavernous room, something like an aircraft hangar, and it looked like he was jogging. The motion was jerky, but realistic.
“How does this work?”
“Hold on,” Jack said as he typed messages. “Ah … the zombie's entire neural network is wired up to people in a simulator, much like they use in video games. We can control them and have them pick up things, run, and jump. But it’s not perfected yet. The optic nerve behind the eye has been wired to send signals back to our systems. Some guy said he got the idea from a movie called ‘Inner Space’. Turns out it was a good one. It works.
“I guess they don’t blink, either?”
“Huh, never thought about that, but I guess not. Here, watch this. I’m going to send them a message to have the zombie jump.
Don held the screen up to his nose. The picture lifted up, came down and headed for the ground. The screen went black. “What happened?”
“I think it fell. It happens; just wait.”
Slowly, the concrete floor came into view, and the image panned back to normal.
“See?” Jack said, “now watch this.”
The zombie’s hands were smacking together, faster, then slower.
“Can they hear, too?” Don asked.
“No, but that’s not a problem. We have a microphone in their suit. Just give it a second.”
The claps were more like dull smacks, but audible. Another annoying sound filtered into his ears as well.
“Numma-Numma. Numma-Numma.”
Don muted the sound. He couldn’t take it anymore. All of the senseless deaths over the world had taken a toll on him. He was too old to get involved with another deranged war for the control of mankind, but he was in too deep. Like a good soldier, he had to play along, not just for his sake, but for the sake of what was left of his own family. Maybe even the sake of humanity, itself. Secretly, he wished someone, somewhere, could put an end to all of the madness. He always had hopes that Nate McDaniel would be the one. After all, he had been warning the man for years, but now he was dead. Oliver returned beside the bench and was holding his overcoat. He yawned as he stood up and slipped it on.
“That’s fascinating, Jack. They’ll make excellent gardeners,” he said
“And soldiers.”
“What?”
Jack's voice sounded sinister when he said, “Sit back down, Uncle Don, and I’ll show you.”
Don reached for his computer and sat back down. He flipped open the cover and blanched.
The picture was inside another warehouse that was filled with over a dozen figures. They all were adorned in combat boots, dark green and black jump suits. A dark metal glinted on their faces.
“Are those zombies or men?”
“Zombies.”
“What’s on their faces? Are those masks?”
Jack snickered.
“This was one of my brain storms. It’s a titanium mask and skull cap I designed. I got the idea from something I saw on Warcraft. Pretty badass, huh.”
It was horrifying. The zombies looked like metal skulls with snapping mouths, like gladiators raised from the dead. The zombies moved fast as they stumbled and climbed over top of one another. Don pulled his coat tighter over his chest. The chill breeze of the early evening was suddenly cold.
“Why do they need those helmets?”
“So if they get shot in the head they won’t die.”
Don grabbed his nephew and said, “Who’s going to be shooting at them?”
“The people in the complex.”
“What complex?”
“Institute,West Virginia.”
Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2 Page 15
