Zombie D.O.A. (54 page)

I shook Suchet’s hand and thanked him and then climbed into the cab of the dump truck. The driver, Beau Stewart, was a man of few words, his vocabulary consisting mainly with phrases like, “take that you son of a bitch,” and “how’d you like them apples?” Still, he was as good a driver as Sam Suchet had said and, whether he had driven Nascar or not, he certainly subscribed to the ‘balls to the wall’ school of driving. Straight out of the parking lot he basically put his foot on the gas and kept it there, all the way to Palos Verdes. Anything that got in his way, vehicles, Zs, debris, barricades was simply annihilated.

And so, a journey that would have taken me three days was completed in just over an hour. I stood and watched the dump truck drive away and looked towards the place I’d visited so often in my dreams. In front of me was a low chain link fence with nothing more to deter the trespasser than a sign that said, ‘Pendragon Corporation. Keep Out.’

Beyond the fence was a strip of sand thirty yards wide and beyond that the blue waters of the Pacific.

I was about to climb the fence when an object to the right caught my eye and I walked in that direction. The rusted, flattened sign that I’d dreamed about, the one that Ted had totaled with his VW Camper said, ‘No Surfing’.

I left my rucksack with the bike and scaled the fence with the AK slung over my back.  I half expected to be confronted by guards, but there were none, at least none that I could see. To my right there was a rocky outcrop that hid the coastline running north and the house on the cliff that I knew was there.

It was heading towards late afternoon but it was still hot, with only the hint of a breeze to take the edge off the day. As in my dream the sea was calm today, with nothing to interest even a novice surfer. Ted and Perry would have called it a bummer.

I stood looking out to where the blue of the sky met the blue of the ocean, and then I started walking across the beach towards the water. As I cleared the rocky outcrop I looked north and followed the familiar, gentle curve of the coastline. I knew the house would be there, and it was, nestled precariously on its cliff.

I’d always imagined a sense of elation on finding this place, imagined myself running towards it driven by hope and expectation. But now that it stood before me I felt strangely disappointed. Stripped of its dreamlike qualities, the house was just a house, an unusual house granted, but just a house.

I started walking along the waters edge and as the sandy beach gave way to rock and tidal pools, I found a steep path and followed it upward. It was hard going and by the time I reached the narrow rock shelf at the top I was drenched in sweat. I followed the path along the shelf and presently it opened into a plateau of shale and rock and scrub with a small grove of stunted pines to one side.

Dominating the plateau was the house at the end of the shale pathway. The walls were not as pristine white as in my dreams, but otherwise it was identical.

I followed the path towards the front door, which carried a ghostly imprint where the brass plaque I’d dreamed about had been removed. The door was ajar and I stepped through into a short passage that led onto an open plan space with white walls. There were large windows to the fore, now allowing the late afternoon sun to create geometric patterns on the wooden floor.

I headed upstairs and found a labyrinth of rooms, all but one painted the same monotonous white, all of them empty. The room that differed from the others had walls decorated in blues and greens depicting an enchanted kingdom under the sea with Neptune on his throne attended by mermaids.

This room carried the faint scent of strawberries and I lingered there, knowing that this had likely been where Ruby had been kept. I suppose I imagined that standing in that space where my daughter had so recently been might provide me with some insight, but if the room held any secrets, it wasn’t giving them up.

I was about to leave when I noticed an object on the floor. I scooped it up and it was a small plastic bracelet, the kind patients wear in a hospital. There was a name on the bracelet. It said, “Justin.”

The third floor was deserted too and through the windows I could now see the first signs of dusk turning the azure sky indigo. As I looked out, a black helicopter drifted by, its rotors reflecting golden in the fading sun.

I figured I should probably run, but I had neither the strength, nor the desire to do so. I felt hollow, used up, spent. Ever since my conversation with Joe Thursday in Flagstaff, I’d known that I wouldn’t find Ruby here. Still I’d clung to a tendril of hope. Now even that had been crushed and nothing the Corporation could do to me could possibly be worse than the pervasive feeling of emptiness. 

I descended the steps slowly, with the AK in my hands but with no intention of firing it, no matter what happened. 

“Disappointed?” Joe Thursday said when I met him at the foot of the stairs. Joe was wearing his corporate suit and I imagined there was a hint of smugness on his face. On another day I might have been tempted to lift the AK and wipe it off.

“I told you not to come,” Joe continued, and I was about to respond when he said. “But I figured you would.  You always were a determined son of a bitch, Chris.”

“Where is she?” I said.

“She’s safe.”

“And happy, Joe. Is she happy? When she’s not being used as a lab rat, that is.”

“That’s not how it is”

“Isn’t it? Next you’ll be telling me you have her attending kindergarten.”

“Ruby was never going to attend kindergarten, or school, or college or get a job and a husband and a house in the suburbs. Ruby is different. Don’t you understand that?”

“What I understand is that you have my daughter, and I want her back.”

“Not going to happen, Chris.”

“Then you may us well shoot me, Joe, because I won’t stop looking till I find her.”

“You’re the one holding the gun.”

I passed the AK to him and he took it and looked it over with a practiced eye. “Still using this old relic, huh.” he said and cocked it. “Don’t get me wrong, this is a fine rifle. Not a patch on the R5, though.” He placed the rifle against the wall. “I’m not going to shoot you Chris. I’m going to make you a proposition.”

“You want me to work for the Pendragon Corporation?”

“Why not, you’re a good man, someone I can trust.”

“And what would I be doing exactly? I can’t see that I have any particular skills you could use.”

“Come on Chris. Three years on the road, you’re a survivor, and what is the new world order about, if not survival.”

“So what would I be doing exactly?”

“You’d be assisting me.”

“And in exchange I’d get to see Ruby.”

“Well it’s not like you’d have visitation rights or anything. But yes, you’d get to see her from time to time.”

“I’d need to know more Joe. Who would I be working for? I’ve spent the last three years running from you guys. I’ve seen the results of BH-17, and I’ve had first hand dealings with some of your Resurrection Men, Stan Tucci for example. That’s not something I want a part of.”

“Anything I can clear up for you, I’d be happy to.”

“Okay, who is Pendragon? What are you trying to achieve exactly?

“Are we talking corporate strategy here?”

“No, we’re talking a no bullshit answer. Are you the good guys, Joe?”

“I believe so.”

“And what exactly are you trying to achieve?”

“We’re trying to restore the world to normality.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

Joe whistled through its teeth. “Number of ways. Most importantly we need a zombie clear out. And we need a way of ensuring that there’s no chance of a re-infection. And if there is, we need the means to deal with it. An antidote.”

“Blueberry Hill.”

“Yesterday’s news. The new batch is called Strawberry Fields and it’s much more effective.”

And where does Ruby fit into all this?”

“That’s a complex question.”

“Try me.”

“Ask something else.”

“Okay, who’s pulling the strings? Who’s behind the Pendragon Corporation?”

“That’s an easy one. Former US Senator from Rhode Island, Knox Pendragon.”

“And what’s he get out of all of this?”

“He gets to see the country he loves strong again. He gets to see us re-unite. Right now there’s a thousand little warlords, like your old friend Chavez in New York, or the late Virgil Pratt of Oklahoma carving out little pieces of the country for themselves, running their own fiefdoms by their own rules. We can’t allow that to continue.”

“So what about Ruby, Joe? Where does she fit into all this?”

“I can’t tell you, Chris. I’m going to have to show you. But first we’re going to have to take a little ride first. Follow me.”

I followed Joe out to the helicopter taking my AK with me. I was just about to get on board when Joe pulled me aside. With the whine of the chopper’s engine and the slap of its rotors masking his voice he shouted directly in my ear, “Hope you didn’t buy that line of bullshit back there.” 

I expected the chopper to follow the coastline south towards Pendleton, but instead it did a wide arc and I was sure we were headed north. When I asked Joe he confirmed my suspicions, “Heading into L.A.,” he said.

“Isn’t that supposed to be Z central?”

“Exactly why we’re going there,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

Below us, the City of Lights was in darkness, the only illumination coming from the many small fires that dotted the landscape. The spotlights of the chopper arced downwards picking up figures running in the streets among the wrecked cars and debris. Here and there I saw flashes of tracer fire and once a small explosion. We passed between some skyscrapers, now standing as lonely sentinels over the dead city.

And then our destination came into view, starkly lit against its dark surroundings, and as we moved closer it was easily recognizable. 

I’d seen the Beverly Hills Hotel in a number of movies, and it looked exactly the same now as I remembered it, lawns smartly trimmed, tropical gardens immaculately maintained, the pool sparkling and illuminated by underwater lamps. It even
appear
ed as though the famously pink building had been given a recent coat of paint.

The helicopter touched down on a driveway and let us off and then ascended again.  We walked towards the entrance where we were frisked and made to hand over our weapons. Then we entered the foyer, which, like the exterior of the building, was impeccable. I could hear laughter and the faint tinkle of a piano.

“You’re probably tired,” Joe said, “and you can bunk down in one of the bungalows, but I’d like you to meet Knox first.”

“What’s the deal with this place?” I asked.

“Knox likes to stay here when he’s in town.”

We walked through the foyer and entered
a
bar
decorated in oak and muted shades of beige and gold. The glass doors to the right opened onto a terrace
overlooking the pool, gardens
,
and
further away a row of
to
wering palms.