Dead Man Running Page 21

  Jan stood, walked into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of filtered water and took two Advil's, hoping to hold off a headache. After yesterday's events she needed a calm day and the continuing reminders of her betrothed's infidelities were not helping matters.

  She had been late. She had been late before and at first it didn't bother her. She couldn't possibly be pregnant – she hadn't had sex with anyone besides a dead man for months.

  To her surprise, a couple months back, during sex with Wiley, he climaxed and a familiar warm fluid filled her. She bolted upright and asked him what just happened. Zombies are dead – they can't produce sweat, spit, semen or anything else.

  He had some new magicians from Haiti, he said, "Who are able to make me a complete man again." He had broken another barrier.

  "Are you becoming human again?" she asked, not trying to hide the hope in her voice.

  The question elicited a wicked laugh. Once he quieted he said, "I never want to be human again. I just want to be more of a man for you."

  He was more than enough of a man for Jan Sugerfoot, her sore booty could testify to that. Jan thought no more of it until she turned up late.

  The weeks went by and she began to get worried. She finally made an appointment with her old primary physician back in Harlem. She took the train up and a cab to her office. She didn't tell Wiley anything because she didn't want to worry him.

  They had to pick Jan off the floor after they told her that she was pregnant. She hustled straight to her husband's office in the Weaver Federal Building in DC. His new assistant director, Rebecca Singler, was in his office.

  She was human, which Jan hated. The fact that she was blonde, shapely and able to work closely with Ben every day, made her hate the woman even more.

  Jan confronted Wiley after he reluctantly dismissed 'Becky Sings' from his office. The woman's nickname was another thing she hated about her.

  Wiley claimed that he did not know that his semen contained active sperm. He claimed that the Haitian wizards didn't tell him.

  He kissed her then wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her close. He stated that he loved her and even more so as she was now "the vessel, the world's second Mary".

  He felt her stomach. "I can feel my child growing in you. You are the mother of the new evolution of mankind."

  She cried and he wiped her tears with his kisses. Her feelings poured out of her, especially about the other women he enjoyed.

  "Quiet your complaints of my indiscretions. I have much work to do and I need a release of my manly desires. That doesn't mean I don't love you, Jan. I do. It is only you that I love. The others are merely used like tissues."

  "And Becky?" she asked.

  "Our relationship is purely business," he said and she could tell that he was lying. It was all a lie and on top of that she was pregnant. Damn.

  She sat back at her desk in the home office. She was calmer now and her head contained only the echo of a headache.

  She had spent the previous night considering an abortion. She realized that to take the baby's life would be like taking her own as Wiley would surely find her and kill her.

  No, she would not kill her child. Jan Sugerfoot was a survivor and she would bring this child into the world.

  To her surprise, during the course of that long night she began to think like a mother. She had to make a way for herself and her child. She needed a backup plan in the event that her relationship with Wiley goes down the drain.

  Sabotaged by Becky Sings, perhaps?

  Or maybe the feds would catch up with him and gank his ass?

  She went back into her office and opened all of Wiley's snail mail. She organized the cash and checks and found in that one week's correspondence over forty thousand dollars worth of donations. For the super PAC she documented about one fourth that amount. For herself – to be deposited in an off shore bank account she would set up that afternoon – would go the remainder.

  Jan Sugerfoot was a survivor and she would make damn sure she and her child made it, no matter what.

  TWENTY-THREE

  WASHINGTON DC – JUNE 2012

  Manchester Lee opened his mouth, closed it again after catching flies for a few moments. He had heard nothing like this before. He uncrossed his long, slender legs, planting both feet on Elias Turnbull's plush living room carpet. He took a quick sip of red wine and stared at the person speaking gibberish across from him.

  "Say that again, if you'd please."

  "Wiley's entourage now includes a barber." Elias said this with no amusement anywhere on his face.

  "Why, pray tell, would a zombie need a barber?"

  Elias kept his eyes on his visitor. He had held back this nugget during their dinner – really bad Tai takeout. He wanted to totally focus on the man's reaction. He sensed that there were things about Wiley, and zombies in general, that Manchester and his buddies knew but perhaps were not sharing with him. The hair growing may be one of those things.

  "You tell me," Elias replied.

  Manchester took another sip of wine. Elias took the bottle and refilled his guest's glass.

  "Are there any humans in his inner circle?"

  "Only the woman we discussed."

  "Rebecca Singler. She's been quite the busy one according to what you've shared with Mama Tenneday."

  Elias nodded. "Yes, she's his new assistant director."

  "Therefore he has no need for a barber to keep his team tidy."

  "He doesn't, unless his hair needs to be trimmed periodically. He doesn't, unless his beard is growing and needs to be shaved every day."

  "It's the only viable conclusion. He has found a way to be more than an undead. He has found a way to be both alive and dead at the same time."

  "But how? Dead is dead, right?"

  Manchester said nothing. He stood and slowly moved to Elias' picture window. The view was spectacular – the White House and Capitol building, the Potomac beyond, a silver snake gleaming in the moonlight.

  "This changes everything. Our plan ultimately was to 'out' the zombies after we destroy Wiley. They are not like us – they don't breathe, they're not warm, their hearts don't beat. In short, they would be easy to identify and eliminate. With this, it will make it more difficult to find them all. If he can grow hair then I have to assume that his blood is warm and flowing throughout his body. He is something we have never seen on this planet – a zombie human hybrid."

  Elias drained his own glass. He stood next to Manchester.

  "I think we need to take it one step at a time. We have to assume that if we kill the alpha – Wiley – the others will become inert, far less threatening. We're assuming that Wiley is transforming all his people into these hybrids. I think that's a false assumption – that level of ability, I believe, he would keep for himself…at least initially."

  Manchester nodded. "I agree. His psychology – paranoid inspirational – would dictate that to be the case."

  "Any thoughts on how he acquired these human traits?"

  Manchester met Elias' eyes. "I know that he has subsumed more of the magic community in the South. We have also heard rumors that he has reached into Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Africa for the best mystics. There may be someone in a village in east Africa or a small suburb outside of Budapest who knows how to bring life back to a zombie."

  "I told you that Mira is on our side. We need to talk with her, coordinate our plans."

  "Agreed. However, I would like you to come with me. There, perhaps, is someone who may be able to tell us about Wiley's condition and how it may impact us going forward."

  "You think it might affect how we go about killing him?"

  "It could. For example, could we simply poison him? Will a gunshot to the heart do the trick?"

  "Who is it?"

  "His name is Winston McLaury. He is a professor of Far Eastern studies at Georgetown. He's been part of the resistance from the start."

  Elias nodded.

  "
I'll call him, tell him we're on our way." Manchester removed his cell from his pocket.

  "I think it better if we take separate cars," Elias said.

  "Yes, give me five minutes and then follow. Head west on the inner Beltway and I'll call you with directions from there."

  The men shook hands. Manchester brushed his long blonde hair out of his eyes as he stood in front of Elias' front door. "I need a bloody barber myself," he said and the men laughed.

  Manchester's smile faded. "Your bird, Miss Mira, do you think she realizes that we must kill her grandfather?"

  Elias shook her head. "I think she wants to work out a way to save him, to repair his body, restore him to normal."

  "Okay, tougher question. Does she realize that she must be killed? Do you understand that, my friend?" He placed a comforting hand on Elias' shoulder.

  Elias felt the cold finger of death trace a path up his spine. "She doesn't. I do." The two looked in each other's eyes for a long moment.

  Since Brighton Beach he had shut that possibility out of his mind.

  "When the time comes I won't ask you to do it. But it has to be done – there are those zombies that she personally created. Killing her will assure their demise."

  Elias nodded. "Understood," he said. He opened his door and let Manchester step out.

  "Remember, five minutes," Manchester said, and then he disappeared down the long dim hallway.

  Elias delayed his departure as advised before heading for the elevator. He hit the down button just as a car going up arrived on his floor. Elias stood back to allow the passengers room to disembark.

  First off the elevator was Ben Wiley, followed by his lapdog Mookie Sills and two overstuffed security goons.

  Wiley's smile was wide as he stepped in front of Elias. "Mr. Congressman," he said and extended his hand. Elias smiled back and shook the zombie's paw. "This is a surprise, Ben," he managed.

  "This is fairly urgent. Were you going somewhere?"

  "Just meeting a friend," he replied. He grinned. "A lady friend."

  "Mira Hidar should be in Philadelphia," Mookie said. He placed two hard eyes onto Elias' face.

  "She's not my only friend," Elias shot back. "I once had a buddy by the name of Mookie who would know that I ain't a one woman man. He would know I don't roll that way."

  Mookie thought for a moment and a smile bloomed on his face. He slapped Elias on the back with enough force that the elected official almost lost his balance. Elias quickly steadied himself and led the Wiley group down the hallway and into his apartment.

  On the way he did a mental check of his apartment – he had placed his and Manchester's dishes in the dishwasher. The Thai takeout containers were safely in the trash, the bottle of wine tucked into the refrigerator. There was no evidence that Manchester Lee had been in the apartment.

  Elias sat in the love seat opposite the couch, where Manchester had been seated ten minutes prior. Wiley and Mookie sat on the couch. His goons were stationed one outside and one inside the apartment door.

  Wiley snapped his fingers and Mookie produced a manila envelope. Wiley reached into the envelope and pulled out a group of photographs.

  "I know the value of a healthy sex life so I won't take too much of your time. These people are why I am here."

  Elias looked at the photographs. The subjects were unknown to him except for the long shot of Manchester Lee leaving the Verizon Center. Another clandestine meeting?

  Elias was well aware of Mookie and Wiley watching him as he looked over the photographs. He decided that he would need to lie, aggressively.

  "Do you recognize anyone here?" Mookie asked.

  Elias pointed to an older woman with short dark hair. "This woman, I see her sometimes outside the Starbucks I frequent."

  "Has she ever spoken to you?" Wiley asked.

  Elias looked both men in the eyes, in turn. "Never but she always seems to be there when I am."

  "Why didn't you alert us to this?" Mookie asked.

  Elias shrugged and maintained eye contact with Mookie. "I didn't think much about it, actually."

  "We need to place that Starbucks under surveillance," said Wiley.

  "I'll take care of it," Mookie replied.

  "Who are these people?" Elias asked.

  "Terrorists," Wiley replied.

  "They call themselves the Magical Resistance," said Mookie. "It began among the community of voodoo queens and soothsayers in New Orleans. It has spread to other parts of the nation."

  "Their goal is to destroy me and our country. They want to take us off course," Wiley said.

  "What do we do about them?" Elias asked. "Do they have any chance to stop our plans?"

  Wiley smiled, patted him on the hand as if comforting a child. "There is no possibility they succeed. My people are finding and eliminating them as we speak. We are closing in on him, her and him." Wiley's finger ended up on the picture of Manchester Lee.

  Just then his cell phone buzzed on his hip. The two zombies stared at the phone.

  "Probably that lady," Mookie said with a grin.

  "You better answer it, Elias. She's missing you," laughed Wiley. He playfully grabbed his crotch and Mookie howled like a wolf.

  Since his death and resurrection, Elias had never seen Wiley so….human. He was almost his old self – just smarter, stronger with a murderous streak bent on world domination via genocide.

  His phone stopped buzzing and a chime sounded as he received a text. He slid the phone out of its cradle and looked at the text message. 'Delayed?' the message read.

  Elias typed in a reply. 'Yes see you later' he replied back. He put his phone away, grateful that Wiley and Mookie could not see his screen. The name Manchester was visible plain as day, a potentially fatal mistake under the circumstances.

  "Now that your romantic life is under control, there is more that we need to discuss," Wiley said.

  "Legislative matters?" Elias asked and Wiley nodded.

  "As part of the highway appropriation bill I've had the Administration add funding for the International Space Station and language that gives private spacecraft the ability to dock at the station. We'll soon have converts on board the ISS and the funding will allow us to build delivery systems on the structure."

  "Delivery systems for what?" Elias asked, although he knew the answer.

  "Later," Wiley responded. "Right now I need you to push this legislation with our Democratic friends. They're being a problem for us in the House."

  "How about the Senate?"

  "I have Boxer pushing for approval there. We shouldn't have a problem. You need to get the Black Caucus on board."

  Elias nodded. "What's in it for them?" he asked.

  "Anything they want," Wiley replied. "I have to have this bill pass. With the Tea Party budget nuts opposing it, we'll need the maximum number of Democrats on board." He stood and extended his hand to Elias. "I know I can count on your help, Elias. Your human ability to persuade is still very valuable to me."

  Elias felt a chill down to his toes. "Thank you, Ben," he managed as Wiley signaled for Mookie to leave.

  The phrase 'still very valuable' echoed in Elias' brain as he shut the door behind Wiley and his men. He didn't bother to find a chair; he sat on the floor, his back against the front door.

  His time was running out, he knew it. Wiley, very soon, would have no need for a human Elias. The clock was ticking and they had to make their move soon or else he would be slaughtered for meat or transformed into the undead like countless souls already.

  He got to his feet. He wouldn't attempt to contact Manchester tonight in case they were monitoring his cell calls. He would slip away tomorrow to contact him on an anonymous landline in the House. They – he, Manchester, and Mira – needed a plan, right now. Time was running out – nearly gone.

  He stepped into his kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. A knock on his door caused the glass to slip out of his hand. Water and glass spread out on his kitchen floor. He ignore
d the mess and turned to the front of his condo. He wondered if Wiley and his boys had returned, having determined the identity of Elias' 'girlfriend'.

  He slow walked to the door, his lack of speed eliciting another, sharper rap on the door.

  At the door he looked through the peephole and recognized Harry Gentile, his building's night doorman. If there were others with Gentile, Elias could not see them. He opened the door and let out a breath.

  Nearly everyone called him Harry the G, at his insistence. Elias looked both ways down the hall - Harry the G was alone.

  "Mr. Turnbull, sir, good evening. I'm sorry for disturbing you so late." He held a white envelope in his right hand, and waved it like a fan. Harry the G was a large man and he was winded from the walk down the hallway. He must have felt it was important to make the trip upstairs to deliver the envelope. Harry the G's most vigorous exercise was hitting the handicapped automatic door button to let in residents and visitors.

  He handed the envelope to Elias. He took a deep gulp of air and told his story.

  "A messenger brought this around, just now. He said it was very important that you get this as soon as possible. He wanted to deliver it himself but I told him that no deliveries are allowed directly to the residences." He straightened himself up, proud to be able to recite the building's policy. Harry was never a bright person and small accomplishments like that excited him.

  "Thank you, Harry. Did he say what this is concerning?"

  "National security," he said.

  Elias reached his hand out and shook hands. The man's hand was cold and clammy. He'll probably be dead from a heart attack in six months, Elias thought.

  Does he or any of us have six months to live?

  "One second," Elias said and he stepped into his condo. He returned with a fifty, kept on hand for such occasions. He tipped a grateful Gentile and closed and locked his door. Avoiding the kitchen and the mess, he walked into his bedroom and sat on his bed. He opened the envelope. There was one hand written page inside.