Dead Man Running Read online

  He got to the edge of the roof, bullets peppering his dead body. Below him he saw security hustling mother and child, sheltered by a Kevlar vest draped over top, into what was likely a heavily armored SUV.

  Manchester pulled a RPG launcher out of his duffle and installed the projectile. He was careful to keep the weapon below the roofline lest the now multiple guns firing in his direction hit the projectile.

  It was bad enough that he had only one eye with which to aim the weapon, he had to deal with the withering fire. If the projectile, packed with enough C4 and glycerin to take out half of Harlem, was destroyed, the human race would be threatened with extermination.

  He quickly raised the weapon, aimed with his good eye, and fired.

  The projectile easily found its mark – it vaporized the vehicle and much of the surrounding buildings. In fact, the block was on fire and the fire was quickly spreading.

  The explosion and resulting smoke halted the weapon fire from the opposite rooftop.

  Maybe I'll get out of this after all, Manchester thought.

  What are an eye and several missing chunks of flesh to a zombie?

  He turned toward the rooftop door and regretted instantly that he had not secured the stairway with bombs.

  A machete's sharp steel severed his head. Comically he watched with his one good eye as his body skipped around aimlessly until finally 'giving up the ghost' and collapsing onto the roof.

  Jan Sugerfoot Wiley, baby attached by a carrier snug to her chest, kicked Manchester head fiercely. The head cleared the roof, falling ten stories to the inferno below.

  "No one, no one is going to kill my baby!" she said.

  She turned and left the roof. She gave no thought to the sacrifice of her aunt nor that of the young baby she had 'purchased' from a drug addicted unwed mother. Her only thought was of survival, the car that waited for her several blocks away, the home in the tropics where she would raise her son, Alonzo Jesus Sugerfoot.

  After several days alone in the Chin house, the doorbell rang. Tamesha Holloway, anticipating the visitor, was packed and ready to go. She bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She flung open the door and before her stood a smiling Mookie Sills.

  He held his arms out and she buried herself in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. She began to cry and the former pimp cried as well.

  Later, he loaded her small suitcase into his car, a black SUV. He opened the door for her and she climbed in. He went around, got in and put the key in the ignition.

  She laid her hand on top of the one holding the key. "I killed Hank, and a priest and Mr. Chin," she said.

  He looked at her. "We have all done things that we regret, child. Now is the time for a new beginning. We, you and I, need to move forward together. We both have blood on our hands but we will cleanse them. We will begin anew – as father and daughter – doing what is good and necessary to wash away the blood of our sins. Agreed?"

  "I agree," she said.

  "Now, let's go. We have a long trip ahead of us."

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THE CAPITAL BUILDING - WASHINGTON DC – FEBRUARY 2013

  Elias Turnbull sat back in his seat. Chairman Claude Simmons leaned forward in his chair. "Do you have any idea why, apparently, Wiley's head of security betrayed him?"

  Elias shook his head. "No, sir. As Wiley was his alpha, his obedience should have been absolute. He not only blew up the airplane but he also authorized Ms. Hidar's access to Fort Detrick."

  "Has anyone seen Mookie Sills?"

  "No. I assume he was destroyed in the airline explosion or he is wandering aimlessly on the bottom of the Pacific."

  "And Ms. Hidar's status?"

  "Waiting on the Capital steps for me, Mr. Chairman. She has been instrumental in the government's efforts to 'cure' the leaderless zombies and dismantle the bomb factories and secure their magical potions."

  "That does not absolve you or her or her grandfather of culpability," Simmons intoned.

  "We understand that, Mr. Chairman. We have been fully transparent about our roles in this national tragedy, with no legal representation and without any consideration of our ultimate fates. Our actions were selfish and reckless and we will carry a deep regret for the loss of life as long as we continue to live."

  "I appreciate you not hiding behind the Constitution, Mr. Turnbull. I officially dismiss you as a witness but reserve the right to recall you at any moment."

  "Thank you, Mr. Chairman."

  "This meeting of the House Special Committee on Domestic Terrorism is adjourned."

  Elias walked down the Capital steps, expecting to see his bride Mira Hidar Turnbull. He did see her but she was standing outside a black limo that featured the presidential seal.

  She kissed him on the cheek as he came close. "How did it go?" she asked.

  "I told them everything. Now our fate is in their hands." He looked at the limo, peeked at the Secret Service driver inside.

  "What's this?"

  "Our ride to the White House. The president wants to see us."

  "After all this time? We've been asking for a meeting for three months."

  "Let's see what he wants," she replied and slid into the car. Elias looked around then reluctantly joined his wife.

  Obama warmly greeted the pair then shooed the Secret Service agents from the Oval Office. They did not seem very happy to leave but the famed Obama glare practically pushed them out of the room.

  He sat his guests on a couch while he took a comfortable chair opposite.

  "I listened to your testimony," he said as an opening.

  If Elias was shocked that the President of the United States had bugged a secret congressional hearing, he did not let it show on his face.

  As the president spoke a huge cockroach appeared on the arm of Obama's chair. Obama followed the surprised eyes of Mira and Elias, got quiet, studied the bug momentarily then gently brushed the critter off the chair. It soundlessly skittered away. The president continued with his reaction to Elias' testimony as if nothing happened.

  "I appreciate your honesty with the American people. Your willingness to place yourself in the middle of an unprecedented criminal conspiracy is admirable." He started to tick off a list with his long, slender fingers. "Let's see, there is murder, abuse of corpse, treason, election fraud, campaign finance fraud." He was running out of fingers. "Have I missed anything?"

  "Terrorism?" suggested Mira.

  Obama laughed. "Yes, can't forget the big 'T'." He laughed heartily.

  "America is looking for a scapegoat. They need some type of explanation for the tragedy that killed hundreds of thousands of their fellow countrymen. In short, they want blood, and if your testimony gets out, they won't rest until they get it."

  Elias leaned forward. "But you won't let that happen, will you?"

  Obama shook his head. "This ends here, the whole story."

  Elias looked at Mira, and then continued. "We've given it a great deal of thought, Mr. President. Mookie Sills had been turned, we don't know how but he was the first zombie that was reversed back to human. And, somehow, he worked for you. If you prosecute us, or let the public access my testimony, it will end up tarnishing you."

  Obama stood, walked to his desk and hit the intercom. "Send in Agent Sills," he said.

  Elias and Mira stood as Mookie Sills entered the room and closed the door. "Whip, whop, wham," he said with a smile and a bow in the direction of his former friend.

  "Why don't we all sit?" Obama asked.

  Mookie took a seat to the right of the president while Elias and Mira took their places back on the couch.

  "Did my grandfather reverse you?" Mira asked.

  Mookie nodded. "He made me human again. He didn't have a bomb of any type, he just used pure magic. He also used magic to wipe his memory clean of doing it in case he was somehow compromised."

  "Which he ultimately was," Mira added.

  "Why did he do it?" Elias asked.
r />   "He was frustrated. He had contacted the police, the FBI, even the White House but no one was taking him seriously. He thought that if he sent them me, a former zombie, perhaps I could convince them to help. So, I came to DC, to FBI headquarters."

  Another cockroach appeared on Obama's chair. This time, the leader of the free world snatched the insect off the chair and deposited its body in the pocket of his suit jacket. Mira and Elias watched him with eyes wide but said nothing.

  Obama picked up the story. "At first the boys from Quantico didn't believe him until they measured his body temperature and found it to be only twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit. They found he had extraordinary strength – he bench pressed twice as much as the Patriot's first round linebacker. Pretty quickly they, and eventually I, started listening."

  "You sent him back to Wiley?" Elias asked.

  "Yes, he reported directly to me, information for my eyes and ears only. To make it official I had him made an agent with the FBI and designated as undercover. Not even the FBI Director knew he existed."

  What he did not mention was that he ordered via the magic telephone that anyone with the FBI or CIA brought into the vetting of Sills be 'disappeared'. He did not know if they were merely killed or languishing in a CIA rendition cell in Saudi Arabia or Budapest.

  "As head of security he could tell me exactly what Wiley was planning to do."

  "Mr. President, you realize that this man was complicit in the murder of thousands of citizens and the transformation of millions more?"

  Obama nodded. "I am fully aware, Mrs. Turnbull. Great progress comes at a great price, always."

  "Progress, what progress?" asked Elias. He tried unsuccessfully to keep his voice calm.

  Obama rose, the old law professor readying a lecture.

  "This nation was in a tragic state. A nation more divided than at any time other than just prior to the Civil War. Red versus blue, liberal versus conservative, rural versus urban, young versus old, everyone believing to the core their positions with ears closed to anyone else.

  "What this has done is give the nation a rallying point. We have told them enough to make them realize that we almost lost everything. You see it everywhere now - people who haven't talked in years are talking, and working together for the common good."

  "Isn't that just temporary? Remember 9/11, we all came together after that, then a couple years later some were hanging Bush in effigy," Mira said.

  "But I believe this change is fundamental." Obama smiled. "And, thanks to you, we have the ability to create pockets of reminders anytime we want."

  "You would use the zombie bombs against your own people?" Elias asked.

  "There is no price too high for a united country, Elias. But, as I said, I think the change is permanent and further action won't be necessary."

  "As the president monitored the situation, he also realized that Wiley's efficient government model was very beneficial," added Mookie.

  Mira laughed. "Efficient government? He murdered to downsize his department and butchered residents of public housing."

  Obama sat. "We've studied the deaths. Over seventy percent were the truly poor or the truly rich. I don't think anyone will cry any tears for having fewer of either around. Besides, he cleansed our inner city of hustlers, pimps, prostitutes and thieves. It will take a generation to resupply the ghettos with those bad actors. Enough time, I think, for those suffering slices of our nation to grow healthy and strong. I challenge you to think about the number of lives I saved and bettered, not the ones I allowed to be lost.

  "A more efficient federal government has taken root and combined with the united talents of our people, the United States will soon take its rightful place as the greatest nation on the Earth."

  Elias leaned forward in his seat. "What I don't understand, Mr. President, is why you placed yourself in such danger. Surely Mookie told you that Wiley had converted your Secret Service protection? He had already converted Biden. He could have converted you at any moment. If he had done so, all would have been lost. You took a tremendous risk with the future of the human race, sir."

  Obama laughed. "I assure you that I was in no danger."

  Mira and Elias exchanged looks. "Wiley was pushing up his timeline, you were days away from conversion," added Mira.

  Another cockroach made an appearance, this one at Obama's feet. Elias lifted his foot to stomp the creature.

  "Stop!" the president shouted. Elias lowered his leg.

  Gently Obama reached down, captured the bug and placed it in his mouth. He did not chew the thing, he merely swallowed it.

  "What's going on?" Mira asked.

  Obama smiled, looked at Mookie. "They've been swept for electronic devices?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Okay," Obama replied. He stood and turned his back to his guests. He reached his right arm to the back of his jacket's collar. He struggled with something underneath. He twisted his head to look at Mira. "Hey good lookin', help a brother out."

  Mira stood, reached under the collar and her hand found a plastic cover seemingly sewn into the fabric.

  "Lift that and press the button," the president said. "Hold it for thirty seconds."

  Mira did as told. After thirty seconds the president began to deflate. President Barack Hussein Obama began to shrivel as the air that supported his 'skin' leaked out. In less than a minute it was all over. The familiar face lay on the Oval Office floor, attached to a lifeless shriveled body.

  Mookie cast a disinterested eye toward the transformation, having witnessed the peculiar bug circus during one of his rare in person updates to the president.

  His mind drifted instead to his daughter Tamesha back home in Harlem. He glanced at his watch. The limo should have delivered her home from her exclusive private school. Their personal chef has served her an after school snack by now, while her tutor prepares to assist Tamesha with her homework.

  The Wiley money – stashed about the planet in secret accounts known only to Wiley and Mookie – was coming in handy. It had provided him and Tamesha a blessed lifestyle. Soon Mookie would use it to help others, many across the globe. He had already begun that work, resurrecting Wiley's old church from the ashes of a zombie infested congregation.

  Elias and Mira watched in horror as the 'Obama suit' began to move. Thousands of cockroaches flooded out of the deflated conveyance and slowly took Obama's former seat on the fancy chair. The form they took was almost human, as they were so used to holding that pose in their masquerade as the president, they could assume no other. The cockroach collective had legs, arms, and a head. The whole thing moved with a coordination that was stunning.

  There was even a wide maw where its mouth should be. Out of that space came words, eerily with the voice of the president.

  "Damn that feels good!" it shouted.

  "What are you? Demon? Shape shifter?" asked Mira.

  The thing spread its 'arms'. Several hundred roaches fell to the floor only to quickly rejoin their brothers.

  "I am what you see, a bunch of cockroaches."

  "What have you done with Obama?" Elias asked.

  The wide maw compressed itself into what could only be described as a smile. "There is no Obama, not really. Not as you know him."

  "What's that mean?" asked Elias.

  The collection of roaches reclined back in their seat. "We switched him out at birth. Oh, we've been keeping track. The real son of Barack Obama Senior and Ann Dunham is a tall, skinny light skinned brother selling pot to the stars out in West Hollywood. His name is Marvon Wingo. He likes tall dark skinned black girls with big booties. He's into Lil Wayne and Young Jeezy. He seems to be very happy, when he's not in prison. He doesn't seem to care for the whole forced anal penetration thing."

  Elias opened his mouth, slowly closed it. "Are you telling me you bugs created what we know as Barack Obama, our president?"

  "He is our creation following extensive psychological and marketing studies. His whole existence – schools, girlf
riends, associates – was carefully calculated after much research."

  Elias looked at Mira. "Why did you do this?" she asked for them both.

  The roach collective leaned forward, pounded one 'hand' into the other. "Listen, things were going to hell here on Earth. You humans were going to destroy this planet. Our planet! We had to intercede. It's not the first time a course correction was required."

  "When did you intercede before?" Mira asked.

  "Have you heard of the Black Plague?" The thing pointed a 'finger' consisting of several dozen roaches at its 'chest'. "That was us. We didn't like where things were going. We cockroaches took it to the rest of the bug world, had a vote and we decided to exterminate most of the Earth's human population."

  "What do you mean, you voted?" Elias laughed. "Bugs don't vote!"

  "Says a man talking to thousands of cockroaches." The thing crossed its two 'legs'. "We get a kick out of you Americans, how proud you are of your democracy, and your so called unique form of government. We bugs have had a democratic form of government for half a billion years."

  "So why do you care about the human race?" asked Mira.

  "We don't, not really, although some of us have a soft spot for America because your democracy is so very darling." The maw shaped itself into a smile. "Our interest," it continued, "is that you do not destroy the planet we both inhabit."

  "You bugs think that's where we're headed?" asked Elias.

  "Undoubtedly. We thought we were goners in 1962."

  "The Cuban Missile Crisis," said Mira.

  The thing nodded its 'head'. "Following the creation of the atomic bomb and the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki we made a decision to temporarily take control of the United States government. We had to wait for the right moment. We had just put our plans in motion when the Cuban Missile Crisis happened. We thought we had acted too late."

  "What exactly did you do?"

  "We manufactured this being named Obama, correctly anticipating the trajectory of race relations in your country, anticipating the psychological need for the Caucasian race to climax their racial epiphany by selecting a black man to lead the nation. He had to be black, but not too black. Therefore we pounced when we learned of the pregnancy of a lily white mother to an African father."