Project Zulu (4 page)

Jimmy is a little nervous; he is worried about what
might happen if he is caught. Treason is a scary word; facing a firing squad is
even scarier. In theory the plan is ingenious; he is astonished that Mr. V
(whoever he is) has come up with it. He just hopes that he doesn’t get a case
of frostbite. He is also concerned that Ross might not be able to stick to the
plan. He hopes that Ross doesn’t screw up, because if he does, he will go down
by himself. Jimmy looks at his reflection in the mirror, leans forward and splashes
some water on his face. While he is drying his hands he calls over his
shoulder. “Ross, make sure you flush three times, just to be sure the wrappers
go down. Remember, I need 20 minutes to clear the building. Ross?”

From behind a closed stall door Ross answers. “I
know, I got it, I am still a just a little freaked out, but I got it.”

Jimmy exits the restroom, and heads right towards
the exit “Have a good night Jeff, see you later.” Jeff just nods back and
begins to wave the metal detector.

“Alright Mr. Gaston, you know the drill, please walk
slowly through the body scan.”

Jimmy holds his breath and starts walking through.
The technician in the control room examines the image on the screen in front of
him, (it resembles a colored negative of a picture), bones dark blue, muscles
and tendons dark red, flesh bright reddish-orange. The image of Jimmy appears perfectly
normal, same as always. The technician pushes the button, opening the other
side of the chamber, allowing Jimmy to continue.

Had the DOD approved Jimmy’s request 18 months ago
for the modified facial recognition software, then the computer would have
compared today’s scan against all of the previous scans taken of Jimmy. Had
that happened, then the computer would have flagged the scan, because today
Jimmy’s penis was approximately one half inch longer than it ever had been
before, and it had a partial fingerprint. Had the DOD approved the request,
thirty minutes later the computer would have flagged Ross’s scan for the same
reason. But the DOD did not approve the request. Jimmy was glad but he wondered
how Mr. V knew that the DOD had not approved the request.

Jimmy pulls the car over two miles down the road,
unzips his pants, and removes the knotted sheep skin condom, with the severed
thumb inside the tip. He places it inside Mr. V’s special canister and drives
on.

Ross barely makes it half a mile. He is freaking out,
in a hurry to get the condom and severed thumb away from his manhood. He tears the
condom, dropping the severed thumb piece on the passenger seat. Without
thinking, he grabs the thumb, which is still cryogenically frozen, and the
liquid nitrogen that is beginning to sweat out of the tissue immediately burns
his hand. Again, without thinking he shakes his hand, sending the thumb out his
car window onto the berm of the road. A large bull frog just happens to be
sitting between the berm and the soft sandy shoulder of the road. The bull frog
catches the movement of the bouncing thumb, flicks out its tongue and quickly
swallows down the piece of thumb. The frog hops off into the marsh. Before the
frog lands, its stomach bursts open, from the frozen thumb piece, killing it
immediately. The thumb is propelled away from the frog, deeper into the marsh.

Ross regains his senses and slams on the brakes. The
car skids to a stop; Ross gets out of the car and makes a half-ass attempt to
find the thumb, but his hand is throbbing from the nitrogen burn and he is
still concerned about his lower extremities being contaminated. He moves the
dead frog with his shoe, just to make sure the thumb isn’t underneath it,
decides that wherever it is, it is no longer his problem. He gets back behind
the wheel of the car and starts to drive away; he is trying to buckle his seat
belt, with no luck because of his hand. As soon the speed of the car reaches 50
MPH, a large bird slams into the windshield of the car, and causes Ross to veer
the car across the center line, off the road and right into the five foot wide
trunk of a sycamore tree. The next thing to hit the tree trunk is Ross’s
forehead, he dies on impact.

Jimmy is just placing his half of the thumb in the
locker when he gets the call from Mike about Ross’s accident. “Jimmy, one other
thing, it appears as if Ross has some sort of chemical burn on his hand. The
CSI team also found a broken condom on the passenger seat. Jimmy, I hate to say
this under these circumstances, but it looks like Ross might have been up to
something.”

Jimmy didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway, I have decided to delay testing for a week.
Media is all over the crash site, and I have to do some damage control. Go
ahead and take some time, I will see you next Monday…the new consultant should
be here by then.”

“New consultant, what do you mean? Who, Mike what is
going on?”

“Gotta go Jimmy, see you next week.”

Jimmy drives with the radio off. He calls Jules and
tells her about Ross, and that he might stop by his house to check on his
family. What he really needed was some time to get his story straight, and to
sort some stuff out. He had to find someplace to stash the bag on the backseat…the
bag with $500,000 cash inside it. He wonders what has happened to the other
piece of the thumb. Did Mike find the thumb, and just not tell Jimmy? He
decides what he needs is a drink.

It has been three days, since the crash that claimed
Dr. Ross Gandle’s life. The FBI, in conjunction with the DOD has taken
approximately twelve dump truck loads of swamp, (including the entire sycamore
tree) that was the accident scene, to a secure location for further analysis.
There have been thousands of photos, hours of video and hundreds of scans by
numerous types of instruments. Absolutely nothing has been discovered.

The local media is up in arms over not being allowed
access to the accident site. There has been much speculation about what exactly
goes on inside the Syscorp complex. The official press release when the
building was constructed was that it was a research and design facility
specializing in military body armor. Very few people bought that explanation.

General Balchor has set up a briefing area, approximately
1500 feet down the road from the accident site. He is wearily answering
questions, his patience growing very thin; because some members of the media
are not buying the cover story about two drunks being the victims of the car
crash.

“As I have already stated, and hope to not have to
clarify again, John.” (John Macgregor is an investigative reporter from Channel
Three Pittsburgh). “The victims, yes that is plural as in two, were traveling
at a high rate of speed when they struck the tree. Although we are not prepared
to release the identity of the victims, I can confirm that they are not local
residents; and appear to have been passing through. A trace of Gruidae DNA,
which I am told is technical for Sand Hill Crane, was detected on the
windshield. Both occupants of the vehicle, we have no idea who was driving
because both were ejected, have been confirmed to be legally impaired. From
what we have pieced together, this is a simple case of drunk driving and bad
timing. We believe the victims stopped at a local bar, had a few too many, and
then drove off.”

A reporter interrupts. “Why exactly is the military
involved in what is obviously, according to you, a simple case of drunk
driving? Where are the local police?”

“Due to the proximity of the accident to a
government facility and because of the status of the protected land…”

Another reporter cuts Mike off. “General, how did
the government get permission to build a complex like that in the middle of a
protected wet land?”

Now the questions are coming in rapid succession,
leaving Mike no time to respond.

“Why is a four star General briefing us?”

“What really goes on inside those buildings?”

“Were the occupants of the car government employees,
military?”

Mike is just about at the end of his rope. “As I
already stated, the occupants of the car were not local residents.”

“That doesn’t mean they were not government
employees. Are you trying to cover something up General?”

“General, why is the razor wire at the top of the
fences pointed in the wrong direction?”

Now Mike is just flat out pissed off. “Now hold on
just a minute. This is about the accident, not the Syscorp facility.”

“General, why don’t you stop ducking the questions,
what about the razor wire?”

Mike recognizes Macgregor’s voice. “What are you
talking about John? All facilities like Syscorp have a fenced perimeter.”

“Oh no, you don’t get off that easy, general! I know
a thing or two about secure facilities, that razor wire is going the wrong way.
It is keeping someone in, not someone out. I have covered three executions,
live from state penitentiaries; the razor wire at Syscorp is just like the
razor wire at prisons.”

“Alright, that is all I have time for, no more
questions. The soldiers will escort you all from the site.” Mike walks away
shaking his head.
Leave it to the government to screw up something as
obvious as the direction of the razor wire
.

About 800 feet down the road from the accident
scene, between the berm and shoulder of the road there is a decomposing frog
carcass, teaming with maggots. One of the maggots seems to be larger, and more
aggressive than the rest.

By the time the sun starts to set, all of the
maggots, except the large one, are dead. Before the sun completely sets, the
large maggot has started to resemble a fly. By the time the moon is climbing
across the sky, the lone maggot has completely transformed into a very large
fly, almost as big as a humming bird. The fly appears to have attitude (if that
is even possible). It is buzzing down the middle of the road, daring anyone, or
anything to get in its way.

Monday morning has arrived much too soon. Jimmy has
taken advantage of the furlough, and has made the arrangements with the
transplant team, and Julie –against her will–has been flown across the country
and checked into Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles. Jimmy knew there was a
chance he would not be allowed to leave Syscorp, so he wanted to make sure that
Jules was taken care of.

Jimmy is exiting the final checkpoint, and notices
that Jeff now has an assistant, who is conducting a very invasive full body pat
down on everyone, heightened security. After being patted down, and his groin
thoroughly groped, Jimmy goes to his office.

The phone is already ringing when he enters, so he
hurries to answer. He listens as Mike asks, no tells, him to get down to the
conference room immediately.

On exiting the elevator, Jimmy meets up with two
camouflage laden men, both carrying M4 carbines with the M26 shotgun
modification. No doubt that these two were serious.

“Sir, please stand back against the bulkhead, and
display your identification while my partner verifies your thumbprint and
retina scan.”

Jimmy moves back to the wall, and allows himself to
be scanned.
Damn lucky that I got the package out before all of the added
security measures.

“Thank you Mr. Gaston, the General is expecting you
in the conference room.”

As Jimmy walks away, one of the men is speaking into
a transmitter, probably announcing his arrival.

Mike meets him at the door. “Jimmy, I am glad to see
you.  Sorry about all the beefed up security, but with the recent developments
it is a necessary evil. Jimmy, I am truly sorry about Ross, I know that the two
of you have been working together for a while. We need to talk about what
happened, come on in.”

Jimmy lets Mike lead him into the conference room,
but stops a few steps in. Sitting in one of the seats is a middle aged African
American woman, whom Jimmy has never seen before. Mike makes the introductions.
"Jimmy, this is the newest member of the project team, for now you can just
think of her as an advisor. Dr. Okayo Alphonsine Solaine.”

The woman rises to her feet and approaches Jimmy.
“Nice to meet you, please call me OhAy, all of my friends do. Doctor is so
formal, and only my grandmother calls me Okayo.” She has a slight accent, that
Jimmy can’t quite place, maybe Jamaican he thinks. “I can see the puzzled look
on your face Jimmy, I am Haitian.” Jimmy shakes her outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you OhAy, if you do not mind me
asking, what exactly are you going to be advising the team on?”

Mike answers, “Jimmy, OhAy has a doctorate in
archeology, specializing in ancient civilizations. She is also a High Voodoo Priestess;
she is here to shed some light on Specimen Z.”

“I am an expert on zombies”, she interrupts while
shaking Jimmy’s hand.

Jimmy pulls his hand back, “Mike, are you kidding me
with this shit, Voodoo, zombies?”

Mike begins to reply, but OhAy waves him off. “Jimmy
I am a Mambo Asogwe, and I am here to channel the Loa and hopefully help you
with your project. I can appreciate your misunderstanding about my culture, but
please make no mistake; Voodoo is as much a religion as Christianity or Judaism,
the practice of Voodoo dates back to the 17
^th
century. I represent
the white, or good, side of Voodoo. My ancestors have been communicating with,
and channeling the Loa for ages. From what I have read, and been briefed about,
your Specimen Z is a zombie that was created by a very powerful Bokur. A Bokur
is a high priest that concentrates on the dark arts, evil Voodoo if you will.
And if the scrolls found with the zombie are accurate, then you have a very
special zombie; one possessed by a Loa, an ancient African Deity”

Jimmy tries to digest what he has just heard, unsuccessfully.
“I am sorry OhAy; this is just a lot to deal with right now. My daughter is
1500 miles across the country, going through double kidney transplant surgery,
without me. One of my closest friends was just killed in a car crash, and now I
find out that I have been studying a zombie! My buffer has hit the overflow
point, and I really do not think I can process anymore information right now.”

“I can certainly appreciate where your head is
Jimmy. Let’s go take a look at Specimen Z. I have not seen an African zombie
since I was a little girl.”

“Specimen Z is not here anymore, Mike had it
transferred.”

Mike joined the conversation. “Actually Jimmy, we
never intended to transfer Specimen Z, we just wanted to see if that
information leaked.”

“And did it?”

Mike just shrugs his shoulders. “Only time will
tell. Come on let’s go, after you OhAy.”

The three of them proceed to the examination room
holding Specimen Z; followed closely by two armed security team members.