Dead Man Running Read online

  "How soon will they be ready, sir?" asked Kosart.

  "They plan to test a smaller version in August, dropped from a high altitude by our aircraft, targeting a small chain of islands in the Pacific. If that is successful, we will transport several bombs during the upcoming launch window to the ISS."

  "That's where the ISS appropriations come in?" asked Elias.

  "Yes, the money will allow the converted astronauts on board to complete enhancements to the station, including a launch bay. They will utilize materials ferried onboard by Sir Richard Branson's spacecraft."

  "You have converted the personnel onboard?" asked Elias. He attempted to keep the horror out of his voice.

  "Soon," Wiley answered and Elias felt some relief.

  "How does the bomb work?" asked Arnell.

  "Very simple. The bombs explode within the clouds, seeding the clouds and infesting them with nanobots. The bots have a golden tint and ride raindrops to the Earth's surface, hence the project name. The nanobots contain the required poison, potion and spell to kill and convert. I must admit that I do not understand the technologies involved, however, the bombs will rain these nanobots down on unsuspecting humans across the globe."

  "Impressive," said Kosart.

  "And your political victory in November will give you the authority and resources to ramp up the flights to the ISS. Space travel being under the purview of the VP since the Kennedy administration. Have you estimated when the entire planet – minus human food stock – will be converted?" Elias asked. The information would be useful to Manchester and his confederates.

  "June 2013, one year hence," Wiley replied. "Which, Elias, brings us to your role in my organization." Wiley made eye contact with his security head and Sills left the room.

  "You and I go back a long ways my friend. I truly appreciate all that you have done for me – in the before times and now."

  There was noise from outside the door, and then suddenly the door slammed open. Mookie Sills stepped back into the room, trailed by two of his thugs, who each held one of Manchester Lee's arms. The unconscious man was slammed onto the conference room table near where Elias sat.

  Elias leaped from his seat. He looked at Wiley, who smiled. He made eye contact with Mookie, his former boyhood friend. Mookie shook his head. Elias thought he saw a measure of sadness in the zombie's eyes.

  "Have a seat, Elias," Wiley ordered.

  There was nowhere to run – the windows were made of unbreakable glass and sealed tight. The conference room door was blocked by two large zombies. Elias sat.

  "Rebecca," Wiley said and the woman, the only other human being present, left the room.

  "Before you lay the barely alive body of Manchester Lee, but I believe you know his identity."

  "Ben….I…"

  Wiley silenced Elias with his hands. "Please, Elias, don't humiliate yourself any further. Our guest here was most uncooperative; despite what, Mookie assures me, were the most vigorous questioning methods."

  "Who says torture is against the law?" Mookie joked. Wiley and his inner circle laughed.

  "He did provide his cell phone, however. We downloaded all of his locations and we had a hit – your apartment building. To be sure of the association, your staff stole your phone and we confirmed that you and Mr. Lee were at the same place at the same time a dozen times in the past three months. You are working with those who seek our destruction."

  Elias felt calm as a bead of sweat rolled down his back. He had the serenity of a man who knew death was close at hand.

  "You've gone too far Ben."

  "So, it was okay if a zombie won a seat in Congress and gave you a nice fat income but it's not okay for that zombie to rule the world?"

  "Yes, in a nutshell."

  "You knew I had killed and would kill others. For a while that was okay, right?"

  "I admit that I was blinded by my own weaknesses – my out of control greed and ambition. I am deeply ashamed of that." His eyes travelled from Wiley to the body of his friend and back again.

  "So you're right, it was okay until those deaths became hundreds then thousands - until you started making zombies out of little girls, Ben."

  Wiley smiled. "I find your selective morality very convenient, Elias. You humans sicken me. You with your little yellow ribbons every time a young child goes missing but there are no ribbons for the hundreds of thousands of children that are destroyed across the planet every year. Starvation, plague, war, countless young die. Yet there are millions of tears for one child, a missing white girl perhaps, but no tears for thousands of others. You make yourselves feel good with your little do good projects, you congratulate yourselves for 'making a difference'. Meanwhile the human on human slaughter goes on unabated while you update your Facebook statuses and send your tweets regarding your good deeds."

  "Genocide is wrong," Elias replied.

  "Since when?" Wiley shot back. "Who stopped the Nazi's from murdering six million Jews? Who stopped Stalin or Mao or the Khmer Rouge or the Rwandans? The world sat on their hands and shut their mouths. I have a better way – there will be no more genocide. The undead have no agenda other than to rule this planet as God intended."

  "You are not made in God's image. Humans are."

  "You know God now?"

  "I know Him well enough to know he is on my side." He pointed to Manchester Lee. "And his."

  "I differ that humans are in his image. God is timeless, so are zombies. God is generous and loving, so are we. We are here to serve the greater good, to husband this planet to the higher purposes God intended."

  "First you will slaughter billions."

  "I prefer to think it a rebirth."

  "You…." Elias stopped as Wiley sat a globe on the table. One of the security undead dragged Lee's body from the room.

  "I'm sorry, Elias, but I must move forward."

  Elias sat in his chair, determined not to run. It would be pointless. He could not outrun the device.

  The globe traveled down the table until it was in front of Elias. With a snick, it opened and the poisonous darts shot out, dozens finding their intended target.

  As the poison entered his system, before the paralysis took full effect, Elias looked at Ben Wiley, who graced him with a sympathetic smile. Before his eyes froze, he found the face of Mookie Sills and mouthed goodbye before a tear leaked out.

  Completely paralyzed, he was laid on the conference room floor. Slowly he felt the poison work – there was a strange sensation of warmth. He felt himself getting sleepy, then the faces of Wiley and the others staring down at him were replaced with a white light and Elias knew that he was dead.

  He saw the light, and then he saw his own body lying on the carpeted floor. He could hear the voice coming from the globe, and then his spirit observed his body rising from the floor.

  He had become a zombie!

  Two thousand miles away Mama Tenneday felt her psychic connection break with Elias Turnbull. Tears flooded her eyes as she cried for the deceased young man who had now become a tool for evil.

  Zombie Elias brushed off his suit, took his seat. His broad smile graced all those in the room. "I feel so much better," he said.

  "I knew you would, my friend," Wiley said. "Now, tell us what you know."

  Elias recounted all his dealings with Lee and identified all those in the insurgency that he could.

  "And Mira Hidar?" Mookie asked.

  "She's working with them as well. You need to watch her closely."

  "We are," Sills responded.

  Elias turned to Wiley. "Jan approached me. It seems that she wants you dead."

  "Does she intend to harm our child?"

  "No, she wants to bring the baby to term."

  Wiley smiled. "Excellent." He turned to Mookie. "He has discovered my wife's financial subterfuge, her siphoning of funds and her purchase of a tropical getaway."

  "Are you going to stop her?"

  Wiley let out a loud bark of a laugh. "A happy wife means a hap
py and healthy baby. Let her have her dreams and schemes. I want our baby to be born. That is the key to the long term propagation of our kind."

  "What can I do to serve you, Ben? Do you want me to dispose of Mr. Lee? I find myself to be very hungry."

  "I need you to escort his body to New Orleans. Your transformation and his corpse will send a message to the community down there that further resistance is a waste of their time."

  "And Mira Hidar?" Elias asked.

  "I will let you take care of her personally, my friend."

  Elias smiled at the thought. He would have sex with her repeatedly before dining on her lovely body. It would be a glorious event.

  At that moment, the object of zombie Elias' unnatural desires was donning roller skates at an outdoor roller rink near Penn's Landing in downtown Philadelphia. The afternoon was unseasonably warm. She wore a florescent pink halter top and skin tight black nylon shorts. On her back rode a small black backpack.

  She floated around the asphalt rink and generated all types of attention but she was interested in attention of a singular type.

  She swatted away the "hey babies" and "whazup girls" effortlessly as she cruised around the living and dead creatures sharing the space.

  A particular zombie had been watching her since she arrived at the rink. He was very large – at least six four and approaching three hundred pounds. She wanted him and finally, after she stood near the refreshment stands sipping her latte, he made his move.

  He stood near her, pretending to be confused regarding his selection of refreshment.

  "Try the latte," Mira said. "It's not Starbucks but it's passable."

  The creature looked at her and smiled. "Are you a reliable judge, is the question," it replied.

  Mira returned the smile. "You'll have to trust me."

  "Momma said not to trust strangers," the zombie answered.

  Mira extended her hand and shook his cold appendage. "Mira," she said.

  "Bryan," the thing replied.

  "Now, you can trust me."

  "So I shall," it said and he purchased a latte.

  The two spent fifteen minutes in the stands above the rink in conversation. She gave him all the verbal and tactile cues to signal her sexual interest. Finally, she said, "I'm starting to feel a little hungry. I'd love to have some company."

  The giant grinned. "I have a better idea. As you can tell by my size, I'm a pretty fair eater and happen to be a more than fair cook."

  "Can I trust that?" she asked.

  "There's only one way to find out."

  Mira pretended to consider the offer. "What will you fix me?" she asked.

  The zombie looked in her eyes. She shuddered and hugged herself to pretend that she was cold.

  "Does it really matter?" it asked.

  Mira returned the suggestive grin. "Not really," she said. "Just walk me back to my car. I don't want to leave it in the parking lot overnight."

  Bludgeoned by her overt innuendo, zombie Bryan stood up quickly and helped Mira to her feet.

  In a matter of minutes the pair was in a remote parking lot, heading toward where Mira pretended to have parked her vehicle.

  When there were no more people around, Mira faked a sneeze. "One second," she said as she stopped walking. She handed Bryan her roller skates and pulled her backpack off her back.

  "I know I brought some tissues," she said as she rummaged through her bag.

  Her hand closed around an object and she pulled it from the bag. It was not a tissue – it was a metallic globe.

  Bryan looked at the device, then at Mira Hidar. He smiled.

  "I think you're too late for that," he said. He snatched the object from her. "Perhaps we could use this on you, afterward," he said. "Much, much afterward. Human lays are still the best," he added.

  He dropped the globe as it opened with a snick. He smiled. "Uh oh. Oh well, I guess I'm gonna have some zombie tail tonight." He laughed.

  A cloud of miniature robots called nanobots emitted from the globe and found their target. The zombie was covered by dozens of the things. They began to burrow under his skin, past his eyes and into his mouth and nose. Strangely, he laughed even more. "This must be broken," he said. "Did you buy this crap on eBay?"

  His expression quickly turned more serious as the nanobots went to work. He swatted the 'bots off his body until his legs gave out and he collapsed. His smile froze on his face as the paralysis set in.

  With great effort, Mira managed to drag the creature's body behind an abandoned car, which sat in a lonely corner of the lot.

  The nanobots continued their work – emitting the transformative spell from tiny speakers and administering the reversal potion.

  After twenty minutes, Bryan McMennamin was on his feet, although still weak.

  "I'm not one of them anymore," he said. There was some disappointment in his tone.

  "You're alive again, human," she said, still shocked that Hamid's formula had worked. Bryan was human again – the only vestige of his former status the extra wide mouth and less than lively eyes.

  "What do I do now?" he asked.

  "Go back to your life. Blend in as best you can."

  "Will you be able to help everyone like you helped me?"

  "One day," she replied. "And when that day comes, I may need your help."

  "You can count on me," the reborn human said and he slowly walked away, back to the ways of the living.

  In the super rich suburb of Daly City, Tamesha struggled to fit in with her Asian foster family. The Chin's had no children. They were kind enough to take in Tamesha as they had other children over the years.

  Money was fine but, best of all for Tamesha, the Chin's were not monsters.

  This was her sixth foster family since December. She hoped this would be her last.

  Their house sat in an exclusive gated community. There were perhaps a dozen other houses, the closest one separated by several acres. From her new bedroom, Tamesha looked out over the nearest neighbor's property. They had a small pond and a barn which contained two horses.

  Tamesha's mind was on Granny T. She wondered if her grandmother was truly dead, as the woman had predicted months ago.

  Everything else her granny had predicted had come true. In her heart, Tamesha knew that she was alone in the world now. Her granny was gone.

  But was she really alone? What of the kind man who had rescued her from the Altadena Arms? Granny T had predicted him too and he came and helped her. Would she ever see him again? He had left her a phone number but her calls had gone unanswered.

  Maybe he was dead, too?

  As she considered this, she saw a couple and a boy her age come out of the neighboring property. They rambled over the plush grounds until they were on the Chin's property. Just before they disappeared the boy looked up and he made eye contact with Tamesha.

  Tamesha looked away. She suddenly felt a chill.

  The doorbell rang and Tamesha heard Mrs. Chin greet their neighbors.

  In seconds, Tamesha stood before the neighbors, the Bartholomew's.

  The man and woman, middle aged, seemed to be normal.

  The son – maybe a year older than Tamesha – he appeared off in some way.

  "I think we can be great friends," he said to Tamesha. He placed a cold hand on her arm and smiled a brilliant white and wide smile.

  At that moment Tamesha knew – Henry 'Hank' Bartholomew III was a monster.

  Tamesha pretended illness so that she did not have to play with Hank, as suggested by her foster mother. Instead she made her way upstairs and lay on her bed. She spent the rest of her day thinking about how she would protect herself from Hank when he came for her.

  And she had no doubt that he would one day try to kill her.

  TWENTY-SIX

  For the tenth time, Mookie Sills played the video of Biden's bombing. He would keep playing it until the boss said to stop. Each time, as the look of horror creased Biden's face, Wiley erupted in laughter.


  The man couldn't seem to get enough of the scene. Mookie hit play again and the action unfolded on the laptop screen.

  "Is the conversion of Biden's family and inner staff complete?"

  Mookie nodded. "Yes, his wife, children and grandchildren are all converted. We had Joe himself bomb his staff last night."

  "Wonderful. Freeze it there, Mookie."

  Mookie clicked the pause icon and the picture froze with Biden's mouth extended as he consumed an assistant's thigh.

  "Usually politicians are photographed eating a hot dog or other iconic fare. I don't think Joe wants this picture on the front pages." Wiley and Mookie laughed.

  "I don't think so, sir," Mookie replied. Before restarting the playback he selected the option for continuous play. The video resumed.

  "I told him to inform Obama and the DNC today," said Wiley after a few more playbacks. "His story is that he wants to spend more time with his children and grandchildren." He looked at his watch. "He should be done by now."

  "How do you think the news will be received?"

  "Gleefully by Obama and his team. Less so by the DNC. I don't have many admirers among the DNC – somehow they see me as too conservative." Wiley smiled.

  "You plan to create the largest socialist enterprise in the history of this planet. I don't know why they wouldn't like you." Mookie looked at his boss and they exchanged grins. Wiley's eyes went immediately back to the laptop.

  "When do you expect to hear from the White House?"

  Wiley's personal assistant Delores Windsong's voice came over Wiley's speakerphone.

  "The White House is on the line, Secretary Wiley," she announced.

  "I guess now," Wiley replied to his friend.

  The call was brief. Axelrod told Wiley that he had to meet with the president in one hour. Wiley hung up the phone and a smile crossed his lips as his attention went once again to the Biden video.