Cry Zombie Cry (I Zombie Book 5) (27 page)

“
You mean the Godwin Device?”

“
Yes.”

“
Why? It would serve no purpose now.”

“
Jamal, the first time it was unleashed was to magnify the effects of the amplification. My only guess is that not enough of the population has turned and the Zero Day Collective plans on reenacting the initial blast and finishing off the job.”

“
What did they mean by ‘effects of the Cradle’? What is the Cradle?”

“
I have no idea. Jacob or Godwin never mentioned it. I can only assume it’s what they are calling the QFG effect.”

“
Maybe,” Jamal said, picking up my thought, “it’s a reference to Newton’s Cradle…the conservation of motion and energy. Is it possible they’ve developed a more efficient means of spreading the virus?”

I reread the message.

“
Jamal, they’re going to unleash an army of darkness into the crowd tomorrow. Once they’ve done that, they’ll ignite the generator to amplify the infection. We can’t let this happen.”

“
Does this mean we’re going to stop the concert?”

I stared deep into the hollow of Jamal’s eyes. “No, it means we’re going to stop the Zero Day Collective’s plan.”

“
How, Bethany?”

“
I don’t know. But somehow, by morning, we have to come up with the means to stop another release of the Mengele Virus.”

Without giving Jamal a warning, I jumped up and took off at a sprinter’s pace. My mind was flying faster than my feet, in a desperate search for an endgame that could possibly come out in our favor. Before I reached my goal, only one solution presented itself.

“
Morgan, you have to send them in now, before the cargo planes take off.”

“
What planes?” Morgan stood and faced me. “Bethany, what are you talking about?”

The second Morgan and Josh were up to speed she wasted no time getting the leader of the troops on the phone to inform him of the new plan. Although their primary goal was the same, in the act of recovering Jacob they were to prevent the undead Luftwaffe from taking off.

Morgan hung up and pocketed her phone.

“
All we can do now is wait.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s not all we can do. You forget who you’re talking to.” I turned and got Jamal’s attention.

“
I know that look, B; you’re up to no damn good.”

“
Oh, what I am up to is so damn good. Follow me, Jamal.”

We returned to my laptop in the Sunday School room. I sat down and gently placed my fingers on the keyboard. With my eyes closed, my lungs slowly drew in a deep breath and released it.

“
Garbage in—”

“—
garbage out.” Jamal completed my thought.

“
Remember how we defeated that punk ass robot team from MIT our senior year?”

The grin on Jamal’s face nearly blinded me.

“
That’s right, darling face, I am going to go
ID4
on their ass.”

“
There was no logic in that film. How was it possible they could write a virus for a completely unknown technology from an unknown planet?” Jamal shook his head as he spoke. “It was brilliant though.”

We both shared a love for implausible science fiction. In fact, the farther from reality the better.

“
I still have a copy of that virus tucked away on one of my servers. I can backtrack the communications, locate an IP address, break into a machine, and let that baby loose on their network. Hopefully, it’ll wreak enough havoc to at least postpone the takeoff of the zombie drop-ships. If it doesn’t stop this, it’ll slow them down later. One way or another, this baby will cripple their IP communication.”

Jamal’s smile softened from manic to warm.

“
What?” I asked.

“
I can’t imagine a moment in which I could love you any more than I do now.”

“
Oh, Jamal, always the romantic.”

“
I can’t help it. When you talk nerdy it fills my heart with pride and—”

“
Lust?”

Jamal blinked nervously. “Must you always ruin the moment?”

I winked at Jamal. “You’re such a girl, Jamal.”

“
And you love me just the same.”

“
I do.”

And I did…without question or reservation.

“
Okay, I have the virus and the IP address. Now it’s just a matter of running a port scan and…well, hello port 22.”

Jamal cozied up behind me and glanced over my shoulder. “Secure shell? Seriously? Did they leave root access open?”

I nodded. It took me less than thirty seconds to break into their network and unleash the beast. I closed the lid on the laptop.

“
All we have to do now is hope the virus cripples their systems before it’s too late.”

Jamal leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “Even if that fails, our plan B isn’t so bad.”

“
The Zombie Response Team.”

He was right. It wasn’t often your backup plan was a nationwide organization dedicated to surviving the apocalypse.

“
It’s late, Bethany. We have a long day ahead of us.”

The hint slapped me across the face like a brick-filled purse. I was exhausted. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept. My pew beckoned.

“
We have to find beds,” I said, as I stood. “Church benches were one of the many reasons I never put much stock in organized religion.”

“
I don’t follow.”

I tossed a look Jamal’s way. “How can you have faith in an organization that insists on making its attendees miserable to keep them from falling asleep? That’s why those pews are so damned uncomfortable.”

“
You’re talking nonsense, Bethany.”

My breath fell slumber-deep even before my head hit the folded up cloth of a pillow.

*

The symphony. Familiar. Comforting. Samuel Barber’s
Adagio for Strings
hung in the air like a beautiful and tragic blanket of snow. The conductor swayed in a slow ballet as he led the orchestra through the melancholic progression of perfectly composed music. It had always been a favorite piece of mine; something so gut-wrenching and lovely, a juxtaposition of life and death. The depth of the bass line vibrated my gut and the melody tugged at my heart.

Something in my distant memory begged me to recall a similar moment, one with an audience and Jacob Plummer…a dance, a nightmare. This time, however, I was alone in the audience, so no matter if the music called the devil forth, nothing could reach me.

The orchestra swelled the final note of the first movement. As the conductor waved the musicians to silence, the echo of the fermata rang into the past and begged for the future. I awaited the graceful beginning to the second movement—a collection of sorrow-filled chords that would bring anyone in the right mood to their knees.

As the first two chords rang out, the vibrato of the strings seemed out of place—too prominent, exaggerated. When the second chord progression was given life, the vibrato from the instruments evolved into something far too familiar.

The Obliterator.

As each passing tone was given life, the oscillation and pitch presented itself with more and more ferocity. With an agonizing screech, the zombie-slaying sound transferred itself from the wood of the instruments to the bone of my skull. Every sound was overtaken by that of the Obliterator. No longer could the wondrous music be heard—there was no Barber, there was only Zuul. When I attempted to scream, a hand forced its way out of my mouth. The skin on the hand was pale, with bluish veins ribboned beneath the thin flesh. My lungs made another attempt at screaming, only to force the arm father from my gullet.

Beneath the flesh and meat of my body, something stirred. Once the shoulder appeared from out of my mouth, my right arm completely deflated. The sack of useless skin hung at my side.

Another scream, another arm, another useless bag of flesh.

When the zombie pulled itself upright from my mouth, what was left of me collapsed to a cold, wet pile on the floor.

chapter 27 |
everything but the baby

The mobile Zombie Response Team unit finally came to a stop. José Diaz had his unit in place, ready to attack. When the signal came in from Morgan, he sent a single command to all teams, via an encrypted RF signal:

Go.

The plan was simple—three teams were in charge of locating the “package” and exiting immediately. The fourth team, led by Martine Keller, had one very specific task—stop the launch of the drop-ships at all costs. Before the Mengele Virus took control of the world, Keller was a member of the Marine Corps Force Recon. She was Special Forces to the core—vicious and ready to eat the Zero Day Collective for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and high tea. Her team consisted of five men, each of them lunatic at heart.

“
Keller to Diaz.” Martine’s voice was a whisper through her radio. “We’re entering the central car now.”

It was the center of the mobile HQ that all communications were broadcast. Diaz made the call—enter the central car and disable all comm channels
after
forcing the order for the drop-ship pilots to stand down.

Keller did “force” well. She relished the idea of using “any means necessary” to stop the ZDC mission.

The car door slid open effortlessly—a strange feat, considering the weight of the metal. As the door opened, a beam of light cut through the darkness of night. Keller took in her squad, each man nodding his readiness, before she turned to assess the situation within the car.

“
Two men,” she said softly, “each manning a communications console. We have their backs. Once we enter, fan out and approach. Jordan, you take the target at three o’clock. Snake, your target is at ten. I want you both on your man simultaneously. No surprises; stick to the book.”

Keller was again greeted by nods before she did a silent countdown. As soon as she gave the signal, the team slipped through the door and silently made their way across the room. The men at the comm station were completely unaware of the approaching killing machines.

It took less than a minute for the team to lock into place. All eyes were on Keller. She focused in on the men at the stations. There was no indication either man suspected what was about to go down.

Keller nodded.

Jordan and Snake both stood and, like a ballet of death, wrapped their arms around the necks of the men…

…only to find they were mannequins.

“
Fuck!” Jordan shouted. He ripped the head from the plastic shoulders of the dummy and turned to Keller. Before the team could react, the exit slammed shut and released the hiss of a seal.

Keller pulled out her radio to warn José of the trap. Before she could press the call button, a strange clacking sound echoed off the metal walls. Without warning, the screech of a heavy steel door groaned against the raging roar of a small group of Boners.

“
Fuck,” Jordan repeated himself.

The team drew their weapons and waited for Keller to signal.

“
Fire,” Keller shouted.

Bullets glanced off the exoskeletons of the Boners, sending puffs of bone dust billowing into the surrounding air.

“
Aim for the heads.” Keller’s voice rose above the shots.

Finally, Jordan struck gold and dropped one of the Boners. When the armored zombie hit the metal floor, the whole car shook.

Another sound joined the party from hell—this time a wall-rattling scream.

“
Son of a bitch,” Snake growled. “Could this get any more fucked?”

A small horde of Screamers rushed onto the scene.

“
There’s your answer, Snake,” replied Jann Wildress.

The soldiers backed into one another, forming a tight circle.

“
We keep firing until they’re all dropped.” Keller spoke calmly.

One by one, the spent ammunition bounced onto the ground. The bullets did their best to dent and crack the armor of the Boners, yet still they came. The Screamers were another issue altogether. At first it seemed as if luck would shine down on the group as the Screamers threatened the Boners. It was a quick undead pissing match with both coming out on top. Shortly after the hollow threats had been made, however, both Screamer and Boner alike turned on Keller and company.