The Rising Dead (19 page)

“Who owns it then?”

“Some dead guy,” the cowboy said with another laugh. “I think I found part of his leg on the front lawn when we were walking up to the front door last night. Big old piece of meat, like a turkey drumstick.”

“I don't understand,” Holt said rubbing his head. “What's going on?”

“It's the end of the world son,” the cowboy said, getting closer to him. “Call it the rapture or whatever you please but it's here.”

“How many people did we kill last night?”

“None,” the cowboy said firing up a fresh cigarette. “We took down probably a hundred or so monsters, former people long dead and transformed. Barely made a dent in my opinion. We got a whole lot more work to do before Jesus gets back.”

Holt thought about the two guys they found fighting in the street near the hospital the night before. He thought about how sick Candy looked. Could it be true? He looked at his blood streaked clothes. He should be dead or in jail by now. Maybe he was still dreaming. He sat back down on the sofa.

“How did this happen?”

“Let me give you something for that hangover,” the cowboy said, taking a prescription bottle out of his jean pocket. “I found some time released oxy in the medicine cabinet upstairs. Guy had a serious back problem to be taking these. One ought to do the trick, make you feel all warm and fuzzy for about the next twelve hours.”

He put the little green pill in Holt's opened palm. Holt just stared at it. The cowboy went into the kitchen and came back with two fresh beers. He cracked one open and handed it to Holt.

“Hair of the dog to chase it,” the cowboy said. Holt popped the pill in his mouth and gulped down the beer.

“Thanks man,” he managed before slipping back into the couch cushions.

“You'll be right as rain in no time,” the cowboy said. “I'm gonna fry us up some steaks while we still got propane. Just relax and let it kick in.”

Holt tried to go back to sleep but he kept remembering the faces of the people he'd killed the night before. A woman with her blouse torn open, bite marks all down the front of her chest. A man in overalls with a trucker hat, big sideburns, who came running at him from the bushes, black bile pouring out of his eyes. There were old people who could barely lift their heads, sick people lying in the streets, even a couple kids. Was the cowboy right? Were they no longer really people?

Holt popped up and ran to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he was done he stared in the mirror at his blood soaked image. He thought about all the stories he'd heard in Sunday school. He was never the best Christian but that didn't mean he didn't believe. If this was the end of the world, why had he been left behind? He wasn't a murderer, not before last night at least. He didn't rape girls or touch kids or rip off old people for their social security. He liked to party and he'd skipped some church since he turned fourteen but none of his misdeeds seemed like hell worthy sins.

He turned on the hot water and stripped down, stepping into the shower. It felt like it penetrated him to the bone, searing away the filth. He watched the oily black gunk go down the drain.

Maybe the reason I'm still here is to fight for God
, thought Holt.
I'm like one of God's angels, left behind to fight the demons as they rise from hell.

Holt smiled. A warm feeling spread through him starting in his chest. That was it. He was one of God's foot soldiers in the war for the soul of mankind. He wasn't killing people. No. He was sending hell spawn back to their rightful place. What else could you call these things? They weren't people anymore. The cowboy was right about that.

Holt laughed. He wasn't left behind. He wasn't forgotten. He was one of God's chosen. He was here on a mission. It was all so clear. The pain in his mind and body seemed to vanish like a ray of sunshine vaporizing all doubt inside of him.

“Yes Jesus,” Holt said. “I will do your work here on earth until you call me back home!”

Holt could smell the steak cooking. Suddenly he was hungrier than he'd ever been in his life. He shut off the shower and toweled off. He went into the master bedroom and found some clean clothes that fit, slipping into fresh jeans and a designer t-shirt. He grabbed a hooded sweatshirt just in case it got cold later, opting for it over the heavy leather jacket that hampered his mobility. He had work to do, devils to dispatch, and he didn't want anything to slow him down.

“Nice new duds,” the cowboy said as Holt walked back out into the living room. His steak was on the table along with two more cold beers to wash it down. “You feeling better?”

“I am,” Holt said. “I'm feeling ready to get back out there and kill a thousand more of those fucking demons.”

“Finish your steak first,” the cowboy said with a smile. “We may not get anything this good later on I'm afraid.”

Holt sat down and began tearing the meat apart in big hunks. It was easily the best meal he'd ever had in his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gunner sat in front of the monitors while the rest of them found places to take up refuge inside the Command Center--all except Max, who paced back and forth, lost in thought.

The video screens showed roving hordes of zombies moving from one part of Thunderdome to another in search of survivors. They were literally everywhere. There was no way to avoid them. The more they searched for new victims, the more frantic they became when they couldn’t find any. Some of them even turned on each other, gnawing on their arms in bitter frustration.

“They won't find anyone new to kill up there,” said Gunner. “You were the last ones I saw alive. Most of the people I saw didn't last more than thirty minutes. By the time I was geared up and ready to make a rescue attempt, they were already gone.”

“Did any of them make it to their cars?” Parker asked, hoping to hear some had at least escaped the grounds during the initial commotion.

“Not that I saw,” Gunner said dourly. “Seems like once they saw those blood-thirsty devils, they lost all common sense. Some of them shouted at the zombies, others just stood there. It was terrible to watch. I'd almost given up by the time I noticed them moving to your side of the dorms. The way they were sniffing the air it was clear they were onto your scent, that there had to be someone there.”

“That's why you left the safety of the Command Center?” Parker asked.

“That's why I came to save your sorry butts,” Gunner confirmed. “Looks like I got there just at the right time, too. They seem to be growing more aggressive the longer they go without feeding on human flesh.”

Gemma covered her mouth, trying to fight back the urge to vomit.

“So what now?” Max asked, finally standing still. “What's our next move?”

“We ain't got no next move sparky,” Gunner said, leaning back in his chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Parker asked, stepping forward.

“It means there ain't nothing we can do about whatever the hell is happening out there,” Gunner replied, the cocky smile back in place once again. “Our best chance for survival is to sit tight and try to ride it out.”

“Oh man we could be here a really long time,” Travis said, looking around the cramped quarters. “I wonder how bad it's gotten out there.”

“Now that is a good question,” Gunner said. “If this thing could do this much damage to Las Vegas so fast I figure crowded cities like New York and San Francisco are already completely lost. Can you imagine what Cairo or Beijing must look like?”

“Maybe it hasn't gotten that far yet,” Travis protested.

“It has,” Max said. “Otherwise why would all the internet servers and cell towers be down? Electricity will be the next to go. Wait and see.”

“It might not be how they planned it,” Gunner said. “But they still got exactly what they wanted, and more. If you ask me I think they bit off more than they could chew, pardon the pun.”

“Who did?” Max asked. They all turned to Gunner and stared at him, awaiting his reply.

“Them,” Gunner said. Parker groaned. Gemma looked scared. “They've been planning it for years, maybe even decades. They sunk that ship coming out of Mexico to cover up their real plans. I'm gonna guess those infected cartel members escaping the prison colony island probably forced them to up their time table a bit.”

“And you know this how, exactly?” Max asked sarcastically.

“Up until this morning I used to work for 'em,” Gunner countered, “Or at least one of their many umbrella companies, designed to hide their real intentions from the world.”

“Work for who?” Parker asked. Gunner ignored him.

“So basically you're part of the reason that we're in this mess then? Is that what you're telling us?” Max glared, arms crossed, waiting for his answer. It wasn't that she wanted to be so hard on people all the time; that was just the way she
always
reacted in a crisis.

Damn,
she thought, remembering the time her mother warned her about her mean streak. In return, she’d viciously pointed out every flaw her mom possessed, throwing them in her face over some small argument they'd had.

'One day you’ll inherit every one of my character defects,' she'd promised. 'Just like I did from my mother.' The words rang out in her head across time, haunting her like an unshakable family curse written into her very DNA.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Gunner said. “I fight to protect people, to protect this great country. I have my whole life. I wouldn't flush that away for any amount of money.”

“Then what do you mean?” Parker asked. “How do you know this stuff you keep talking about?”

“I worked at Zymetech,” Gunner said. “I didn't know they were making a biological weapon. I was head of security and I trained other agents as well. Today I saw a man eat up two of my guys. I chased him down in the parking lot just as he was eating a saleswoman and took him out. The cops arrested me for my troubles, held me for questioning, then tried to tell me none of it happened. They instructed me to report back to my employer, but I didn't.”

“Tell me you got some proof of this,” Travis pleaded.

“Now you're thinking,” said Gunner. “My little insurance policy. Hell I never figured it would get this out of control, not that I'm surprised mind you. I've been preparing for something like this for years...”

“Obviously,” said Gemma looking around.

“I'm not sure they did either,” Gunner said. “I know for a fact that scientist wasn't planning on infecting himself. It has to be an accident, which makes things much worse than I hoped.”

“How so?” Travis asked.

“If they planned it, I don't suppose it would go on too long,” Gunner said. “The idea behind a weapon like this is to take out the unwanted human elements while preserving the infrastructure. This is a catastrophe by any standard. Shit's burning out of control and those things seem to be getting stronger, whatever they are, not weaker.”

“That's a pretty dark outlook on humanity.” Parker shook his head.

“I agree, son,” Gunner said. “I believe Darwin referred to it as survival of the fittest. They teach you that one yet, college boy?” He winked at Parker, who looked away frustrated.

“Can we see the tape?” Max asked. “I'd like some kind of proof that what you are saying is real.”

“Glad you asked,” Gunner said, leering at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “I'd be happy to show you sugar buns. I never expected to have a real live internet celebrity down here with me.”

He turned back to his computer and opened up a folder, pulling up a video file he'd saved on the hard drive. They all gathered around the screen to watch. The video clip opened on a close-up of a Satoshi in the lab, stripping down and acting irritated. He looked drunk, his movements jerky and erratic.

“Where is that?” Gemma asked.

“Zymetech Biolabs,” Gunner said. “This video if from this morning, before all this happened. I took this piece of footage for my own protection, but it don't look like I'm gonna have to worry about being sued anytime soon.”

The sick-looking man snapped angrily and began beating his head against the desk before projectile vomiting black gunk all over it.

“What's wrong with him?” Parker asked.

“He's infected,” Gunner explained.

Satoshi turned towards the CCTV camera. He looked like a wounded animal now, his eyes solid black. White wriggling foam dribbled out the corners of his sagging mouth. He turned and raced out of the room in search of a victim.

“Infected with what?” Parker asked. Gunner turned to Travis, whose expression suggested he wasn't all that surprised by what he was seeing.

“The revelations virus,” Travis said. Parker groaned. Gemma looked horrified.

“Shut up!” Max said.

“Travis? What exactly does that mean? Is this some kind of Christian terrorist organization?” Parker sounded angry.

“It's a myth,” Max said in a whisper.

“It's biological warfare at it's finest” Travis said. “I've heard rumors of it for almost a decade online now. There were shots from a supposed Ebola outbreak in Africa, along with grainy footage of them torching everyone alive. This is the first I've ever seen something this concrete.”

“I don't understand,” Gemma said.

“They've made a virus that turns people into mindless animals, impervious to pain, with an insatiable hunger to kill and eat human beings,” Gunner said. “That clear enough for you?”

“So they really are zombies?” Gemma looked confused.

“Pretty much,” Travis said with a gulp.

“The government developed an endgame weapon to use against our enemies and it got out,” Gunner said. “This Japanese asshole was probably the guy who created it. Guess he got panicky after he saw what happened in Mexico splashed all over the news.”

“Sounds like a case of instant karma if you ask me,” Max said.

“Yeah,” Parker said, “so where does that leave us then?”

“What do you mean what happened in Mexico?” Gemma looked more confused than ever.

“You didn't see the news coverage? Of the ship?” Gunner looked incensed by her ignorance.

“What does that have to do with this?” Gemma's voice was growing quieter with each new question. “I'm sorry I just don't get it.”