Our Undead (22 page)

The man dressed in a
General's uniform, has the hard mature face of one that has seen
and heard horrible things. He is at least in his early forties, but
the stress of his life makes him look to be in his mid-fifties. He
wipes his large palm down the whole of his face, takes off his hat
and shakes his head disappointingly at the sight on the screen. At
that moment, an alert appears on the monitor, an incoming
transmission. The serious man pushes a button on the control panel
to receive the call.

Feleider:
This is Feleider.

A heavy voice responds to
him from the other side. It sounds like an older man, but a mild
modulation in the vocal tone makes it clear that the voice is being
disguised and distorted.

MysteriousVoice:
What is the condition of your sector, Unit
Feleider?

Feleider:
Two thirds of the west have been infected, sir. In essence,
that means every person in the country may well be infected by the
parasite within a month's time; a month and a half tops. That is,
with the exception of those who have made it safely to the
military's underground bases and above ground safe
areas.

MysteriousVoice:
I am well aware of what that means,
Unit.

Feleider:
Then you must know that this has all gone terribly wrong,
sir. We launched The Conditioning far too soon. E-TE12 was not
ready.

MysteriousVoice:
Nothing is beyond recognition, Unit, and all has
not yet been lost. It sounds as though you're losing faith in the
cause. Is this true?

Feleider:
No! I'm sorry, sir. It's just that…

MysteriousVoice:
Your job is not to throw your opinions around,
Unit Feleider. Your only duties are to give and receive information
and follow through with your orders.

Feleider:
(flustered)
Yes, sir. Please,
excuse me.

MysteriousVoice:
Report on the current status of the updated
version of E-TE12.

Feleider:
The parasite is still unrefined, sir. Doctor Alyster is doing
his best to perfect the symbiosis, but there is only so much he can
do down here with no assistance. He'll need at least a month to
complete his work, and by then… it may be too
late.

MysteriousVoice:
Then that won't do, will it? As you know, after
this little slip up, the governments have shut down our operation.
It won't be possible to keep our plans concealed from them for much
longer. You have seven days, after which point we will release The
Conditioning on the rest of the planet.

Feleider:
Seven days!?.. Uh, yes sir… And.. what if E-TE12 isn't
ready?

MysteriousVoice:
It will be ready. We have the utmost faith that
you will make sure of it, Unit.

Feleider:
Yes sir.

MysteriousVoice:
Currently, the U.S. military is sending a special
task force, super soldiers in a group named The Mav-Elite, to your
location. Among them is one of our agents; Unit Holden. He is
informed of the situation and will be there to assist you and the
doctor in making sure everything runs smoothly. He is a strong,
intelligent man who's loyalty to the confederate is unwavering. Use
him well.

Feleider:
Understood.

MysteriousVoice:
You should also know that there is a man on the
team named Denver Sharp, a wildcard that likes to stick his nose
where it has no business being. He's built quite the reputation for
disobeying orders and taking things into his own hands. He is
young, foolhardy, and as his last name implies, sharp. As of right
now, he is in the dark about this situation. Put extra caution into
keeping him there.

Feleider:
I understand.

MysteriousVoice:
Good. That's all for now, Unit. Standby for more
instructions.

Feleider:
Sir.

The mysterious voice
disengages, and the General leans forward in his chair. He glances
up at the red indicators, continuing to cover most of the west
coast. They multiply before his eyes in real time, like drops of
blood dripping on to a clean canvas. Oregon, Washington,
California, Nevada and Idaho are gone, and the parasite has almost
completely wiped out Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico.
Even the most southern parts of British Columbia and Alberta have
been graced with it's presence; Vancouver, Kamloops and tickling
Calgary. Northern Mexico too, feels the premature conditioning. His
eyes move along to the other parts of the world, still unmarked. He
smiles to himself, thinking about the world and how it has no idea
what is on its horizon.

An unexpected noise from
behind prompts Feleider to quickly close the world map. He spins
around casually in his chair as the automatic lights flicker on,
revealing the rest of the large, futuristic looking office space.
He watches as a tall, slender woman walks toward him. She wears a
long white lab coat with black rectangular framed glasses and her
dark brown hair tied back into a tight bun. Her face is attractive,
slim and white, pointed out at the chin and just as serious as the
General's. Feleider leans back in his chair to welcome her, looking
calm and unbothered, the complete opposite of the female professor.
She comes to a stand about three feet in front of him.

GwenGavine:
Feleider, are you busy?

Feleider:
Just gauging the level of infections. It seems that our
associates at the other bunkers are keeping it well at bay. We
would do well to follow their example, and
you
would do right to address me
as,
General.

Gwen:
I'm
not one of your soldiers,
Feleider
. I'll address you how I
see fit.

Feleider:
What can I do for you, professor?

Gwen:
You
can do for me what I've been asking you to do for the last five
days.

Feleider:
I told you, Ms. Gavine, I may have lost my wife to this
infestation, but I remain committed to her…
spiritually.

He turns around on his
chair, back towards the computer screen.

Gwen:
I'm
going to ignore that absurd insinuation that I have
ever
had even
the
slightest
bit of sexual attraction towards you and ask you for the
thousandth time. When will we be supplied with the antibodies from
Sector 337-4?

Feleider:
(without turning)
The antibodies
and everything else the lab needs will be arriving soon, as
I've
told
you
for the
thousandth time, Ms. Gavine. Let us not forget what conditions
befall our travelling colleagues. It's hell on earth out
there.

Gwen:
And
it will stay that way unless we get the supplies we need. I don't
see why you would bring some of the world's greatest medical
scientists to this location and not have an ample amount of
supplies, not to mention the ridiculously dated
equipment.

Feleider:
The equipment is fine, professor. A great mind such as yours
shouldn't resort so easily to cheap shots. The real issue here is
the arrival of your supplies.
(turns to
face Gwen)
And I'll only say this one
more time before asking that you leave. The supplies are on their
way.

Gwen:
And
what are we to do until they arrive?

He dismissively turns back
toward the screen.

Feleider:
Twiddle your thumbs, professor.

She lets out a great sigh
and starts walking out.

Gwen:
This
is all pointless. If those antibodies don't arrive within the next
two days, you might as well just open up the hatch, and let them
all in.

The metal door slides shut
as she exits the room, and General Feleider pushes another button
restoring the world map to the screen. The reddening
continues.

Feleider:
Pointless, Ms. Gavine? Not
as much as you may think.

STALKER, SUIT &
SALVATION

Margaret wakes up to a
bright orange glow coming from above her. As she comes back into
consciousness, she remembers the event from the night before; the
walker filled cornfield maze and returning to the woods but in
complete darkness, save for Billy's tiny flashlight. She remembers
following the tiny light and hearing a blood curdling scream from
somewhere off in the distance. Both her and Billy were brought to a
stand still at the sound of it, making Margaret feel as if her
blood literally did turn. She remembers finding the cramped space
in between two trees that Billy said was a "perfect" spot and the
surprise she felt when he asked her to hold his light so he could
take a small orange square out of his bag and spring to life a
compact tent; a one man tent
nearly
big enough for two of them.

She extends her curled up
legs and feels the instant relief from the cramps she had developed
over night. It was the most miserable night's rest she had had in a
while, and for a moment it really ticks her off, but then she
realizes something. She isn't supposed to be able to straighten up
her legs like this. Billy isn't inside the tent! She quickly but
quietly props herself up on to her shoulder, and worry starts to
rise inside of her. He must just be outside, but she would be a
fool to simply rush out, so she cautiously eases over to the tent's
opening and begins to unzip it as soundlessly as
possible.

Billy:
It's all right.

The sound of Billy's voice
makes Margaret jump ever so slightly, but she is truly relieved to
hear the kid's voice. She unzips the entrance the rest of the way
up and pokes her head outside. To the right she sees Billy sitting
on the ground, Indian style, sharpening a hunting knife. It's the
same giant one he used to open the ER Bar, much more impressive
than the pocketknife he had been using the night before. He looks
over to her.

Billy:
You
should eat something.

Margaret:
Well, good morning to you too.

She looks to the left and
sees Abe standing and staring off into the woods. It makes her
chuckle.

Margaret:
Good morning, Abe. Still standing, huh?

Abe's pupils slowly roll
into her direction before his head does the same. Margaret sticks
her tongue out at him, and he turns back to staring out into the
trees.

Billy:
I'm
sorry… but it's true. You should really eat something before we
move on.

Margaret:
I've got a can of Spaghettios left… and some bread. I'll eat
that, but… I'm really running low on food. We're gonna have to find
something more to eat soon.

Billy:
Don't worry. I've got enough for a few more days, but you're
right anyhow. That's why we should hurry.

Margaret:
Mmmhmm.

Margaret stays where she is
for a moment, squinting and taking in her surroundings with her
upper body sticking out of the tent. It's another beautiful
morning, with the sun glowing in and between all of the trees.
Unlike humanity, the birds haven't fled. She can still hear them
singing their sweet songs, and imagines how lucky they are to have
wings. She wonders why they haven't flown away yet. It must be so
depressing flying around these parts. If she had wings, she would
be long gone, fly someplace free of all the carnage. She would fly
as far from it as possible.

Billy:
I
really should get that tent taken down.

Margaret:
Oh, right.

Billy brings her back in,
and she finally gets out so that he can start packing.

<><><>

Margaret has already eaten
through half her can of Spaghettios and three slices of bread, as
Billy is putting the finishing folds on his portable
home.

Margaret:
You sure you don't want some?

Billy:
No,
thank you.

Margaret:
You're not going to eat?

Billy:
I've already had a meal.

Margaret:
Really?! How long have you been awake?

Billy:
About forty five minutes.

Margaret:
What the hell?! Why didn't you wake me up?

Billy:
I
needed some time to make preparations before we leave. Besides, I
thought you could use the extra rest. How's your
ankle?