Dead Man Running (50 page)

The pair watched Bieber croon.  They bobbed their heads and tapped their feet, the two zombies keeping better rhythm than the performer on stage.

"Did the general come through with the C-130?" Wiley asked.

"Yes, sir.  Thank you.  I'm heading down to
Dover
tonight to oversee the loading of the equipment.  We've been able to reassemble the Penn labs in the hold of that massive aircraft."

"You are on target to leave day after tomorrow, of course?"

"Of course.  Ms. Hidar should join us tomorrow for the pre-mission walk through.  The next morning we'll be on our way to
Fiji
."

Wiley wagged his finger in Elias' face and smiled.  "Remember, no funny business with Mira until you've proven the bomb as close to one hundred percent effective as possible."

"I won't kill her Ben," Elias responded.  A wide smile broke over his face.  "I can't promise that nothing will happen.  We are two consenting adults."

"I don't care what you do with her pussy.  Her brain is what I need for now."

"I assure you, dear leader, I care about every inch of her and she will come to no harm."  Wiley nodded and Elias took a couple steps away from the world's greatest being and stopped.  He turned around and Wiley faced him.

"I do look forward to it," he said.

"What?"

"Seeing her brain," Elias said and he fast walked past security and a large clot of celebrities and hangers on, finally emerging from the bright arena into the dark night.

He took a deep breath, again mildly surprised because he no longer felt the air when it reached his lungs.  For a millisecond he regretted the lack of sensation.  He walked on.

He found his limo and climbed in.  He ordered his driver to make a detour on the path to
Dover
.  They would exit off I95 about one hundred and twenty miles too soon – there was a friend in
Philadelphia
that Elias suddenly wanted to say hello to.

Mira
Hidar
's breathing slowed and steadied as she approached her apartment building.  She was on her cool down walk after running five miles in west
Philadelphia
.  It was to be her last night of freedom – away from wall to wall zombies – and she wanted to make her time count.  Waiting inside her home was some vegetarian spaghetti in the crock pot, a bottle of white zinfandel in the fridge, and the suddenly hot Mets
,
broadcast live and in color
from the West Coast. 

She also had a half dozen reverse zombie bombs she had to complete, seeing as she was soon going to come face to face with the undead Elias Turnbull. 

She loved the man, whose skin the zombie version was wearing.  The realization that she had
denied loving this man until she lost him
w
eighed
heav
il
y upon her. 

But she was a
Hidar
and, above all,
Hidar
's believed in magic and magic would return this man to her.  Did he love her, too?  She believed he did.  Would that love survive his transformation and re-transformation
to human
?
 
That, she did not know. 

The ways of
romance
were foreign to her since she had always rejected the concept.  This time, it
c
ould not be escaped or denied.  It had found her and its pain rode in her chest like a bad cold.

As she opened her front door she immediately sensed something wrong.  Her instinct said to flee but her brain told her that it didn't make a difference whether she ran or not.  There was no escaping what lay inside her home.

She stepped into the apartment and dropped her keys on the foyer table.  She
mov
ed gingerly down the long hall that led into the living room.  Her breath caught as she saw him and what he held.

"Bringing your work home, lover?" Elias asked.  He sat on her couch.  At his feet were the reverse zombie bombs that were unfinished, all except one.

The final one he juggled in his hand like a baseball.

"Well?" he asked.  "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"You're one of them," she finally managed.  Her ton
gue seemed thicker than normal.  Her heart beat so hard she was convinced that the creature before her could hear it and see its exaggerated exertions.

"I asked you a question.  Why do you have these bombs?"  He stood. 

Was he always so tall?

Her feet were frozen in the carpet so he stepped in front of her.
 
"Do you have an answer?"

She did.  She needed an excuse in case they checked her luggage and found the bombs.

"There is about a three percent failure rate with the big bomb.  We
'll
need to clean up any stragglers."

He looked her in the eyes, his strong hand cupping her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"But why do
you
have these?  Why not simply pack a supply of bombs for the 'clean up', as you so succinctly put it?"

She snatched the bomb from mid air as he tossed it with his left hand, simultaneously jerking her face from his grip.  "I think I can increase the yield, make them more efficient."

"You're an engineer now,
Mira
?"

"I'm a magician and, at their heart, these operate from magic, not science or engineering."

Satisfied, he nodded once, then twice.  As she stepped away from him, a strong arm reached out, slapped the bomb out of her hand and pulled her in close.

Mira
should not have been but she was
still
shocked at his speed and strength.  Was he here to kill her?  Was it all over, the resistance, humanity, the future of the world?

"Gimme a kiss, love?"  He pulled her close and put his cold lips on hers.  He quickly pulled back.

"We know you can do better than that," he said.  His dead eyes searched her face.  His free hand found her ass and squeezed roughly.

"Fuck you," she said.

The creature smiled, let her go and took a step back.  He eyed her, the cartoonish wolf checking out the pretty lamb.  "Maybe later," he replied finally.  He sat back down on the couch and patted the
neighboring
cushion.

Mira
kick
ed the stray bomb back with its brothers.  She dragged a straight backed chair in from her kitchen and sat it near the couch.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"To let you know that I plan to kill you."

"Now?" she asked.

He shook his head.  "He says that we need you.  He says that I have to wait until the trial is successfully completed."

"Is that so?  Are you his pet now, Elias?  The man I knew….."  She pulled the chair closer to the zombie and started again.

"The man I loved was his own man.  He was smart and strong and wanted to do the right thing
.
"

The zombie laughed.  "Do the right thing? 
Elias and your
grandfather
started this whole mess."  He laughed again.  "So he wanted to do the right thing, huh?  Why didn't he do the right thing in the first place and let the man stay dead?  Why did your
grandfather
bring him back,
and then
give him the ability to murder billions and end humanity?"  He laughed uncontrollably.  When he finally quieted down, he spoke again.

"Elias Turnbull was all about Elias Turnbull.  He was simply trying to deal with his guilt.  I know because his thoughts are still in here somewhere."  He tapped his cranium.

"And now you love him?  Do you realize how hung up this guy was on you?  He died not knowing that you loved him.  You should feel real good about that,
Mira
."

"You're here to mock me?  Make me feel bad?"

"I'm here to deliver a message.  And that is: I'm watching you.  I'll be examining everything that you do.  I know what he knows."  Here he tapped his head again.  "He knows you are part of the resistance.  As such, it is in your interest to sabotage this trial.  I'm here to tell you that I'm not having it.  This trial will be successful,
and then
you will be killed.  By me."  He smiled widely.

"I may be able to extend your life span.  For certain considerations.
"
 
He again panned her body with lingering,
ravenous
eyes.  "
Maybe an apartment in
Paris
, at least until humanity is extinguished.  Maybe I can swing conversion and a new identity known only to me.  How does that sound?"

Mira
stood.  "Do what you have to do.  They'll be no
considerations
.  And I would appreciate it if you would leave."

He got on his feet, reached down and plucked a globe off the
floor
.  Using his right hand he crushed the
steel ball.

"I gave you a courtesy.  Any considerations, and by considerations I mean the penetration of your vagina and other desired entrances, I will take by force if necessary.  I don't have to ask for a damn thing from you, now.  Now, I take from you what I want, when I want it and for how long I want it."

He dropped the crushed bomb at her feet and, with a smile, left her apartment.

When Tamesha woke it was twilight.  She lay fully clothed under the covers of a substantial bed.  She was in a girl's bedroom and for a moment she forgot about what had happened with Hank Bartholomew and thought perhaps she was back in her bedroom in the foster home.

She looked around – the walls were pink and covered with posters of male stars who she knew had not been popular for several years. 

She slowly crawled out of the bed, careful not to make much noise.  She didn't want Hank to be alerted to her waking.  On her hands and knees she made it to the window. 

She was located in the front of the Bartholomew house as she could see the horse stables to the
immediate
left and her foster home past the wide carpet of grass and thick tuft of trees.

She tried to open the window but it was
nailed shut
.

She considered throwing a chair through the window – Hank's sister had a
straight backed
chair sitting in front of a desk.  But, that would make noise, which would alert Hank and he would catch her before she could fling herself out the window. 

She subconsciously felt her neck.  It was very painful to the touch and she let her hand fall away.  She wondered if she was bruised from where he held her.  Probably so, she thought. 

She looked around the room and her eyes fell on the girl's iPad
lying on the desk
.  She had no experience with the devices but when she touched it, the device somehow 'woke up'.

The low battery icon was on the screen, warning that the machine had five minutes of power left.  Another alarm flashed to tell Tamesha that there was no connectivity.  Tamesha had hoped that she could somehow send an email to her foster parents.  She would have been too afraid to alert the police since she knew that police
men
could be zombies, too.

With time running down she finally concentrated on the screen.  A website had been pulled up and
she quickly scanned the information.  Someone – maybe his parents since Tamesha understood that Hank's older sister was at Cal Tech in grad school – wanted to know how to kill zombies.

Tamesha read as fast as she could.  As she reached the bottom of the screen, the device emitted three very loud pings and shut down.

In seconds the bedroom door flung open and Hank Bartholomew stood there wearing a ridiculous apron.

"You're up!  That's wonderful
! 
I was just fixing you something to eat.  Sorry, no peanut butter in our house but I did find some hot dogs."

He stepped over to her, laid a comforting hand on her brow as if he were taking her temperature.  "What's this?" he asked as his eyes fell on the iPad.

"It's dead," Tamesha said.

Hank tapped the screen a couple of time
s
to no avail.  "Wonderful," he said.  He reached out his hand and she took it.  He helped her to her feet.

"I don't want anyone interrupting our marriage and honeymoon."  He winked at her,
first with his
left eye then
with
his
right one.
  If he wasn't a monster Tamesha would have found the gesture kind of cute.

"Come along Tamesha, I have dinner ready for you."

"You're not eating?" she asked as she let him lead her from the room, his hand enveloping hers.