Z-Volution (15 page)

24.

Airborne en route to Atlanta, Georgia

Somewhere over Virginia, the pilot began to shows signs that he was undergoing the transformation. Oddly, the first clue was a slight change in the pitch of his voice. It became higher, more nasally, perhaps due to the constricting of his throat and arteries. Alex noticed it when the airman was calling out over the radio trying without success to reach a still-functioning air traffic control tower. Then his movements became noticeably sloth-like, more labored. He was slower to reach his arm out to adjust controls. His arm wound had worsened, too, developing a disturbing yellowish bruising pattern that oozed a clear goopy substance.

Definitely took longer to change after a bite than it did after death from a bite. If the host was still alive, apparently the immune resistance gave the victim some time at least, before succumbing.

Alex pointed the captain’s change out to Veronica, who leaned over and whispered into his ear. “You got this, right?”

“I can fly it, just not that sure I can stick the landing. But this guy’s not going to last much longer, so we either force him to land now or we take him out and hope I can figure out how to land later.”

Veronica thought about this while her right hand crept along her thigh to the snap catch on her knife sheath. “If we land now, we’d have to figure out a new way to get all the way to Atlanta.”

Alex had no counter to that. He had no idea how the rest of the East Coast (or hell, the entire country, for that matter) fared, but he certainly didn’t relish the thought of travelling hundreds of miles through conditions like those they’d experienced for only a few of those miles.

With the barest whisper of steel sliding against leather, Veronica removed the KA-BAR fixed blade knife from its sheath.

Alex eyed the familiar-looking blade. “You still have that thing?”

“Souvenir from our island vacation,” she said, flashing on a mental highlight reel of violent attacks that she quickly suppressed. It was time for a new assault. She shot Alex a look that said,
Be ready
.

The pilot began jerking his head up and down in a strange series of rapid movements. His radio erupted with a reply from the ground. As he reached for the transmitter, missing it and randomly swiping at a cluster of switches, Veronica sprung. She placed her blade where she knew it had to go in order to be effective—upward through the neck, inside the jawbone and directly into the brain cavity. Instantly, the brand new zombie had the life snuffed out of it. It slumped in the seat, blood dumping from its gaping neck and head wound as Veronica withdrew her knife. She wiped it quickly on the seat and returned it to its sheath.

The plane started to veer sharply to one side as the dead zombie slumped onto the steering column.

“Alex!”

He reached forward and tossed the former pilot into the passenger seat, and then he climbed over into the cockpit, taking the dead man’s spot. He gripped the controls and leveled out the aircraft. “Can we eject this guy?” he called back to Veronica. “Don’t really need a dead zombie co-pilot.” She also moved up front.

“Put your belt on first,” Alex cautioned. She did so and then she propped the corpse against the passenger-side door while Alex concentrated on flying the plane and familiarizing himself as best he could with the controls.

“Where’s the latch on this thing?” Alex explained to her how it works and then told her he was holding the plane steady, ready when she was. Veronica hauled the body atop her lap and gripped the door latch with one hand.

“What are we flying over? Don’t want to hit anybody with a dead zombie.”

“Just a bunch of farmland. As good as it’s going to get. You might hit a horse or something.”

“Yippie ki-yay.”

With a grunt, Veronica shoved the door open with an elbow and hauled the body across her lap. She gave it a good shove and sent it out, a skydiving zombie corpse. Veronica heaved the door shut and fell back into her seat, winded from the effort.

Alex looked down from his door window and spotted the undead cadaver-bomb, now a mere speck in the sky. Then he checked his compass heading and saw that he had gotten off course, and corrected for it.

“Back on track for Atlanta.”

“So what about landing this thing when we get there?”

“Thanks, I was trying not to think about it.”

“Is this really all that different from the planes—Cessnas and Sandpipers, right—that you know how to fly?”

Alex surveyed the instrument panel with a frown. “Afraid so.”

Then the radio crackled with staticky voices. Veronica held her ear closer to the speaker, straining to hear the intermittent transmission.

“Sounds like other pilots asking which airports are still open with services…where are we now, do you know?” She looked out the window with a furrowed brow.

“North Carolina. We’ll be in Georgia soon, and then Atlanta won’t be far.”

Veronica continued to scan the radio channels while Alex flew. They heard a few snatches of conversation here and there, but all in all, Alex remarked, the air bands were uncharacteristically silent. The next hour went in relative silence, neither of them speaking, knowing it still wasn’t the time, and nothing else—dwelling on what had happened or speculating on things they couldn’t verify—mattered. Veronica continued to tune in the frequencies, however, and as they crossed over the Georgia state line she got one to come in clear that featured a robotic, male voice.

“…residents and visitors advised to seek shelter immediately. The following cities have been designated as Temporary Shelter Zones: Chattanooga, Greenville, Athens, Dothan…”

The emergency bulletin droned on with a long list of smaller, inland cities.

“I don’t hear Atlanta on the list.” Veronica turned the volume down as the message began to repeat.

“Probably means that the major cities have been lost and the military and National Guard are now trying to save the second tier cities.”

“Great.”

Alex glanced out the windshield at the ground below, where structures became more numerous as they approached the greater Atlanta area.

“It’s okay. We just have to get down there, near the CDC Headquarters building, and then we need to find this doctor…?”

“Arcadia Grey. Get her, along with her research materials. Hopefully she’ll have herself and everything ready for extraction.”

“And hopefully I can land this thing.”

Suddenly Veronica heard something of interest and turned the radio back up.

“…underground NORAD facility near Cheyenne, Wyoming, one of the possible locations for a new seat of government, along with Cabinet members, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and leading science and technology experts. Once again, the White House has fallen, the president’s condition is unknown, but the core operating government, we have been assured, including successor arrangements, are secure in a highly defensible underground bunker, possibly at a Wyoming NORAD facility, or perhaps at Raven Rock, Pennsylvania. There are many rumors flying around right now, but unfortunately, no word from leadership…that is desperately needed right now to calm what remains of this nation. Until then, stand ready, find shelter and sanctuary where you can, and…”

Veronica snorted. “
Highly defensible
my ass! There’s no such thing as highly defensible against these things.”

“Do you really think the president is down? The first zombie president?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think about it.”

“Wait, listen!” Alex turned up the radio as new information poured from the speaker.

“…D.C. has been overrun, has fallen…Repeat: the government in Washington, D.C. has fallen, including the White House and the Capitol Building. Other major cities have also gone dark: New York, Boston, Atlanta, Miami, Chicago… Incoming reports also have a battle raging now in Los Angeles. It was thought that the west coast might be safer…”

“Atlanta,” Veronica said glumly.

“Look around the plane,” Alex said in a monotone voice, a command just coming without conscious thought. “See what kind of useful gear you can scrounge up. Flare gun, first aid kit, flashlight, tools, anything.”

Veronica undid her seatbelt catch and started rooting around the plane while the radio bulletin continued.

“Although the outbreak of this unknown disease-causing agent, responsible for violent, irrational behavior reminiscent of fictional zombies, is widespread in the major cities, there are reported to be survivors barricading themselves inside at numerous locations within the fallen areas…”

Alex was jarred from the broadcast by Veronica’s yell. “I’ve got something! Two things!”

He heard her dragging something forward over the cabin seats.

“What you got?”

A flashlight landed on her empty front seat.

“Okay. And?”

She tossed two backpacks up front. Alex’s eyes widened immediately as he recognized what they were.

“Parachute packs. Hmmmm….”

“What do you think?”

“I’ve jumped a couple dozen times. You?”

“Never. How hard can it be? Put it on, jump out, wait a few seconds to clear the plane and then pull this cord here, right?” She pointed to a pull cord at the bottom of one of the packs.

“That’s pretty much it. Now that I think of it, it’s not a bad idea. Even if I could pull off a controlled landing with this thing, it’s going to be damn near impossible to get close to the CDC headquarters, assuming we can commandeer a vehicle and we aren’t immediately eaten by airport zombie security.”

Veronica nodded. “Screw it. Let’s jump. I know how to open the door already, at least.”

“Yeah, but what then? Assuming this doctor’s even still alive, barricaded or whatever, and assuming we can get to her without being eaten, how do we get her out of a city overrun with millions of flesh-eating monsters?”

“One thing at a time, please.” Veronica tried to smile as she slipped an arm through one of her parachute straps. “Try to focus, will you?”

After a less-than-graceful circling of the major city hub, Alex figured out how to put the plane into autopilot for a somewhat lower altitude as they flew back around the outskirts of Atlanta and plotted a straight bath toward the taller buildings and where they mapped the CDC center. “We should jump now before we get too close to the heart of the city. Hopefully when the plane crashes it’ll provide a distraction without killing innocent people.”

Veronica donned her ‘chute pack while Alex made final adjustments to the plane’s controls, slowing the airspeed down to just above a stall, before doing the same. He scoured the ground, a few thousand feet below.

“Ready?” He grabbed the flashlight from the seat and shoved it into a pocket of his jeans. “Remember, flex your knees and roll when you land. Can’t afford either of us to have a sprained ankle or worse. You first.”

Veronica gripped his hand and looked into his eyes. Then she slid across the seat and gripped the door latch again. “Here goes nothing.”

She pushed the door open and dangled her feet outside while they felt and heard the rush of air.

“On three!” Alex counted it down. “…jump!”

Veronica dropped away from the plane. Alex watched to make sure she wouldn’t hang up on any part of the aircraft, and then he launched himself into the air after her. For a few heartbreaking moments, it seemed like she wasn’t going to open her chute. Was there some problem with it? She had just found these laying around, basically. What if they had some defects?

Then, just as he wondered if he could go into a steep dive and catch up to her before deploying his own chute to slow them both, he saw a white petal bloom in the air beneath him, and Veronica was jerked skyward for a few seconds before drifting gently back downward.

Alex pulled the ripcord for his ‘chute and smiled when it opened.
Enjoy the ride.

And he did, gliding and swaying gracefully, feeling the wind and the ultimate peace and silence…until they came within a few hundred feet of the ground and saw what they were dropping into.

25.

CDC Headquarters, Atlanta, Georgia

Dr. Arcadia Grey stared helplessly at a cage full of rhesus macaque monkeys, every one of which was dead with an iron spike through its head after having been stunned with a captive bolt pistol. In a separate cage, a single, perfectly healthy specimen—the last such example she had access to—perched on a wooden dowel, rocking uneasily back and forth.

Grey’s hands trembled with impotent rage as sweat beaded on her high forehead, above which black hair strewn with silver streaks poured down her back in a ponytail.

Working from Xander Dyson’s research materials created in the days leading up to his untimely death on Adranos Island, she had thrown everything she could think of at the prion infection. Everything. But so far to no avail whatsoever. She hadn’t made any headway on it, other than eliminating the techniques she had tried. It didn’t help having a room full of concerned scientists and political leaders watching her every move, either. Call it scientific stage fright, but she wasn’t used to working with so many pairs of eyes on her at once. Usually she was the boss, directing her contingent of junior scientists, researchers and lab assistants, but the truth was that right now there weren’t really too many safe places to go, and those present wanted to get the news of an antidote or vaccine firsthand, since getting reliable information was fast becoming a difficult proposition in the wake of the rapid societal breakdown.

Presently, a video monitor mounted on the wall came to life with an image of a harried-looking President of the United States, with Arcadia visible in an inset window, a reminder that she was visible to the president as a disheveled mad scientist in front of a cage of dead monkeys.

“Dr. Grey, I need an update on the research, but first tell me, is it still safe in your building?”

She took a deep breath and straightened as she addressed the Commander-in-Chief. The others in the room looked on with rapt attention as well.

“My floor is on lockdown, Mr. President, and is safe for the moment, although the sounds coming from outside are most… disconcerting. I think the upper floors have been overrun.”

“I promise I’ll do what I can to shore up defenses around you as soon as this call ends.”

That promise didn’t have much of a ring of certainty around it,
she thought.
He’s scared.

“Now, I apologize for being so brusque, but I fear I don’t have much time. What progress have you made?”

“I’ll be blunt myself, Mr. President. I’ve been pursuing what I hoped would be leads from research notes of the late Dr. Xander Dyson, but so far nothing has been effective. There are still further avenues for me to try, but the biggest wall I’m running up against now is that I only have one more monkey, and no way to get more test subjects.”

“Mice? Rats?”

“Different physiology. Wouldn’t be helpful.” She turned and pointed to the still-living macaque behind her. It bared its teeth in the direction of the camera. “Without more testing, I can’t run other scenarios and try modifications to work on humans. I really need…” She trailed off, scratching her head like it was an itch that would never go away.
I need a miracle…

“As it turns out, I can help you with your specimen needs. I’ll tell you more in a minute, but in all honesty, Dr. Grey, the way things are going here I doubt I’ll even live to see the fruits of your labor.”

Gasps issued from several in the room.

“Sir?” Grey was just as stunned.

“We’re under heavy attack. Our military is putting up a fearsome defense but there is such a heavy concentration of enemy here I have to believe that whoever orchestrated this goddamned fucking apocalypse, pardon my French, targeted D.C. specifically as priority-one for annihilation. They know about our defenses, and the bunker I’m currently locked inside.”

“Mr. President…” Arcadia had no idea what to say.

“It’s okay.” The president held a hand up as if to placate her. “The American people are resilient and resourceful. They’ll get through this. I know they will. As for the government, rest assured that if our bunker here is breached, protocols are in place for continuity of government. Control will be handed out in the event that…” The president choked up for a moment.

Dr. Grey cleared her throat and moved the conversation forward. “Mr. President, you mentioned helping me with my experimental specimens?”

“Yes, yes!” His face brightened, seemingly glad to have something concrete to divert his mind from the disaster so close at hand. “Listen carefully. A CIA agent by the name of Veronica Winters and one of her associates is en route to your location as we speak via small aircraft to pick you up and take you to a research bunker set up in Colorado.”

“Colorado?”

“Yes, but—” They could hear loud noises emanating from behind the president now—muffled explosions and shouting. He turned around quickly before facing the camera once more. “I need to get going, but listen: I’m told that we have animals suitable for your research in place in the Colorado facility along with a small research staff already there. I’m going to send you their contact information so that you can have them start preparing whatever you need while you are en route? Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Make sure you bring any materials you require and can reasonably carry—computer files, specialized equipment…”

“Will do, Mr. President.”

“Get to Colorado. Finish your work. This nation is counting on you.”

“Of course, sir.” She stood at attention, not sure if she should salute at such a momentous occasion, or bow?

“Oh, and Dr. Grey?”

“Yes, Mr. President?” She waited, expecting a grand motivating statement, a last inspirational word to define the struggle and create a turning point in the war.

Suddenly the screen flickered, a loud explosion was heard and black smoke began pouring into the room with the president.

“Mr. President?” The last thing she saw was his face awash in sheer terror.

Then the screen went black and stayed that way.