The Age of Zombies: Sergeant Jones (31 page)

Vanessa cast a steely gaze at the male twin. “He is a great warrior.”

Radoula stood up from her throne. “He’s ours now, you know. His body has been infected with the worm. There’s not much he can do now.”

Vanessa collapsed in shock. The chains that bound her to the wall kept her from hitting the cold marble floor. She realized that her husband was no more.

“You and your daughter are the only two humans left in this palace,” Boul said. “When your husband wakes up, he’ll have to make a choice.”

Emma Jo looked at her mother and started to cry. She wanted to run over to her mother and wrap her arms around her and give her the biggest hug she could. “I love you, mommy,” Emma Jo said through her tears. She was trying to stay strong. She knew she had to. Both her parents were crushed.

Vanessa looked up at Emma Jo. “I love you too, baby girl.” She felt her son kicking in her belly. It felt like she could have the boy now. Vanessa wanted to give birth right then and there. At least if Junior was born, she could sacrifice herself and allow both her children to live on.

“I’ve admired your tenacity,” Radoula said. “It makes sense that you and Jones found each other. Great souls attract. It’s the way of things.”

Vanessa looked at the zombie with contempt. “Don’t let me die while I have this baby in my womb.”

Boul laughed. “It’s not our place to choose which one of you will be eaten,” he said. “Jones very well may go after Emma Jo.”

The little girl’s eyes welled with tears. “Is that true, mommy? Does daddy want to eat us?”

Vanessa gritted her teeth. She wanted nothing else than to kill the two giants that stood before her. Eradicate them from existence. Vanessa softened her look and voice. “No, sweetie,” she said to Emma Jo. “We will be just fine. Daddy won’t hurt us. He’d never hurt us.”

Boul stood up and motioned to the guards. “Take them away,” he said. “Throw all three of them back into the dungeon.”

The Orobu guards unshackled Vanessa and Emma Jo, and carried the family back to the dungeon. They unceremoniously tossed the family back into the cell. Vanessa huddled with Emma Jo in the far corner of the cell. Jones laid on the opposite end. He was still out cold.

Vanessa watched her husband’s body for hours, waiting for the slightest indication of life. Emma Jo fell asleep in her mother’s arms, as Vanessa quietly hummed her daughter’s favorite lullaby. Once Emma Jo was asleep, Vanessa kept her eyes wide open, and her hands ready to defend her and her daughter from the cannibalistic urge of her husband.

Several more hours passed. Vanessa struggled to keep vigilant, as her own eyes tired from strain and fatigue.

But then it happened. Jones let out a low groan. He moved his arms and legs, and lifted himself up from the cold concrete. His eyes were barely open, and it took a few minutes for him to recognize where he was, and who was in the cell with him.

Once Jones realized what was up, he shouted as loud as he could. The hunger pangs assaulted his stomach, but he was determined not to cannibalize his family.

The echoes of his shouts stirred Emma Jo from her slumber. The child’s first instinct was to run to her papa, but Vanessa put a quick stop to that.

“Daddy!” Emma Jo exclaimed. Her eyes lit up, even though her father looked beat up and scary. His skin was splotched, and his eyes were beady and sunken in.

“I can’t hug you,” Jones said to his daughter. “Even though I want to, Emma Jo. Daddy has to stay away.” Jones struggled against the desire that was surging throughout his entire body to attack the little girl and gobble up the meat that hung from her bones.

“Stay here,” Vanessa said. She strengthened her grip on Emma Jo. “You’ll hug your daddy soon, but not now.”

Emma Jo started to sob. She couldn’t understand what was going on. Vanessa stroked her daughter’s hair in an attempt to console her.

“I can’t believe you made it this far,” Vanessa said to Jones. “I have no idea how you found us.”

“I’m a grunt,” Jones said with a wry smile. “Born and bred, through and through. No mission is too difficult, no sacrifice too great. Duty first, my love.”

Vanessa teared up. She couldn’t stand to be so close to Jones, yet have to stay so far away. “I love you,” she said with a choked up voice. “I can’t tell you how much I love you.”

Jones just let the words flow through him like wind through trees. He was disturbed by Vanessa right now. He loved her, too. But his love was duty. It always had been. Jones remained a loyal husband and father since day one. Vanessa broke their oath.

And she looked absolutely delicious. He wanted to dig right in.

The only thing that stopped him was what was inside her womb.

“How many more days?” Jones said, pointing at the belly.

“Not long,” Vanessa said. “I’ll go into labor any day now.”

“You have to live until then,” Jones said. He struggled with his hunger. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “But I can’t guarantee that you will. They’re gonna keep us in this cell until I can’t stand it any longer.”

Vanessa slouched to the ground. Emma Jo sucked her thumb, and silently listened as her parents went back and forth. “It’s either me or Emma Jo,” Vanessa said. “You’re not getting our daughter. You know that.”

Jones squinted. He looked down at his precious Emma Jo. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so delectable. Jones shook his head, ridding his mind of thoughts about cannibalizing his own daughter.

“I’m carrying Junior,” Vanessa said. “I know that you want me to carry him to term. But can you wait that long?”

“You know that’s what will have to happen,” Jones said. “But I can’t promise anything. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. This hunger, it is real, Vanessa. It’s consuming me. These worms, they’re vile, alien, not of this world. I’m telling you, Vanessa. I’m not the same man that you loved. I am something new now. I am becoming one of them. I can feel it. They’ve just about conquered me.”

Tears streamed down Vanessa’s cheeks. She slammed her fists against the concrete floor. “No!” she shouted. “I won’t let them take you!”

Vanessa sobbed into her palms.

There was nothing Jones could do to console her. Emma Jo hugged her mother and held her tight.

Jones felt his skin heat up. It pulsated and turned a bright shade of red. He could feel little worms squirming in and out of his pores. He could see his skin writhe with the crawlers. “I can’t hold back for much longer,” Jones said. “I’m gonna try to knock myself out again.”

Vanessa couldn’t look up at her husband. She buried her face deeper into her arms, and allowed her sadness to crush her heart.

Jones stood up and lowered his head. He didn’t know how many more times he could knock himself out. He figured that if he didn’t feed the worms, he’d eventually die. But that wasn’t his concern. His top priority was to keep Vanessa alive long enough so that she would give birth to Junior.

Jones rushed ahead and smashed the top of his head against the concrete wall. He stumbled back, dazed and confused. He did it again. And again, until finally he was out cold.

Vanessa eventually sobered. She watched Jones closely until she could confirm that he was out cold. She allowed Emma Jo to approach her father and give him a kiss on the cheek. But that was all. She didn’t want to risk Emma Jo catching that evil worm.

Vanessa knew she didn’t have much time. Jones would be up again within a few hours. She had to give birth to Junior before Jones woke back up. She paced around the cell, breathing heavily, rubbing her belly, pushing as hard as she could. She prayed to anybody, anything, that would listen, that her son Junior would come soon.

Time passed slow, its viscous contours running roughshod around Vanessa’s sanity. The baby had to come, she thought. He had to.

And if he didn’t, she would be forced to sacrifice herself to her husband’s hunger. She wasn’t going to let Emma Jo be eaten.

Vanessa’s efforts to initiate her labor were futile. As she paced back and forth in the cell, she heard a groan come from her husband’s body.

He was waking up again.

This time, there would be no stopping his hunger.

Chapter Eighteen

The Coronation

Secretary of Defense Crumzchek took refuge in a deep underground military base just outside Denver, Colorado. He was organizing a network of sleeper cells throughout the world who had remained under the radar. They were clandestine, and independent of any rebel movement. He was joined by a motley crew of allies in the intelligence communities throughout the world. There were roughly 4,000 special agents at his command. Another 35,000 international soldiers reported to him.

His plan of attack centered around a peculiar rumor that was spreading like wildfire across the continents. It was said that in the next few days there would be a major celebration in Beijing, which would announce the leaders of the Orobu to the world. If he could get a bomber jet to Beijing, and arm it with a nuke, Secretary Crumzchek felt confident that he could pierce the armor of the Orobu, and turn the tides of this horrible fate.

Secretary Crumzchek keenly observed that the threat to humanity was biological, but also that the shackles that kept humanity inert in the cities and camps were based on information. He knew that the crowning of the emperors of the Orobu would be broadcast on every possible screen in the world. He relished in the prospect of bringing Radoula and Boul down just as they reached the apex of their own destinies.

He tasked his agents to dig up more info on the details of the coronation. Within a few hours he was given the date and time, along with a few details of the event.

“We’ve got three bombers at our disposal,” Crumzchek said to his top advisor. His red face was bloated. He had been drinking like a fish since going underground. “Let’s load them up.”

His top advisor was a silver haired man from the CIA. His contacts in Moscow supplied the details about the coronation in Beijing. “Bombers don’t have a chance,” the advisor said. “They’re not gonna let ‘em get close to the emperors.”

Crumzchek shook his head. He kicked back in his chair and lit a cigar. It was his way of dealing with the stress. “Damnit, Carlton,” Crumzchek said. “We send one bomber in at a time. Kamikaze style. They won’t know what’s hitting them when the bombs drop.”

“Millions of casualties,” Carlton said. He ran both of his hands through his silver hair. “At the very least, millions.”

“That’s if we can get nukes,” Crumzchek said.

“And I don’t see that happening,” Carlton said. “The Orobu have commandeered every known stockpile. The situation doesn’t look good, Crumzchek.”

“You think we stand a fighting chance against these monsters?” Crumzchek said. “Because I don’t. This is all desperation. We’re desperadoes, Carlton. Nothing more. Fighting’s in my blood. I was born with it. Worry seems to be the card that you were dealt.”

Carlton kicked an empty bottle of Jack Daniels across the room. It smashed against the concrete wall. “Yeah, Crumzchek, I’m worried. I haven’t seen my family in two weeks. They’re in some camp outside of Virginia Beach. God, man, what has become of us? Humanity, we’re spinning down the drain.”

Crumzchek started to laugh. He puffed his cigar. His gut heaved up and down with each laugh.

Carlton punched the air. “Damnit Crumzchek! Look at you! You’re rotten. You value nothing.”

Crumzchek’s laughter dissipated. He shook his head. The hypocrisy in the CIA agent’s condemnation was glaring and hilarious all at once. “You brought this country to war in the Middle East,” the Secretary said. His tone was damning. “Hundreds of thousands died. And for what? You don’t even know. You were following orders. And the fucker above you was doing the same. All the way up the chain.”

Crumzchek wrapped his fat lips around the cigar and puffed vigorously. He squinted through the clouds of smoke. “Even myself. I didn’t know what the hell we were doing over there. I got the same packets of information that you did. WMDs, terrorists, the whole nine yards. I bought into it. I was a four star general at the time. Top brass. And even I had the wool pulled over my eyes.”

Carlton’s gray blue eyes sharpened. He thought back over a decade ago, to when he was putting out reports for the President. His own reports were based on other reports. And those were based on others. Reports upon reports, ad infinitum. “So where does it all begin, Crumzchek?” Carlton said. “Who calls the shots?”

Crumzchek cocked his head. “Nobody calls the shots,” he said. “Our species is like a hive mind. On individual and social scales we operate on deep biological impulses. Our psychology is profoundly dominated by forces that we can’t come close to understanding. We live in a world of artifice and lies. We thrive on untruth. We’re no better than these fucking zombies.”

“The wars of this decade,” Carlton said. “The war against terrorism. It was all based on a lie?”

Crumzchek took a swig from a bottle of Jack Daniels. He stood up and paced towards Carlton. “I don’t know what to think of it anymore,” he said. “The truth is, Carlton, that humans can’t rise above our own limitations. Your reports were rumors based on other reports and their rumors. Everybody was in on it. It was their job. It was their livelihood to spread lies.” He took another pull of the bourbon. “And who knows? Maybe the Orobu were playing us like puppets. The whole time, we could’ve been dancing a jig to their tune.”