Zombie Rehab (13 page)

The zombie walked away, towards the door. In the background, the giants were still slugging it out with the zombie soldiers. One of the small soldiers was hoisted up and stuffed inside a nearby basketball rim.

“I wish I had my phone to catch that one!”

The outside of the door groaned. The lever was being jostled from the other side.

“It can’t get in here, can it?” Tori said.

“No, it’s a manual lock, like the Day Care.”

Henry wasn’t so sure that the zombie wouldn’t figure it out.

“Can we get out?”

“These doors lock from the inside or outside. The mechanism is simple enough. We used these pins,” Henry pointed to the long rod of metal dropped in the hasp in the door, “to secure them. I’ve used the pin on the inside. We’re safe, so long as no one uses a pin on the outside. If they do that, we’re stuck.”

Chapter 28

Washington, D.C.

B
lood was coursing through him like a rushing river, and the WHS security officer told him to step on the scanner. Nate’s eyes flitted over to Walker, who had just passed through. The wry man had his back to him as he chatted with other WHS officers.
This isn’t going to work. It’s not possible.
He was running through scenarios of escape plans. What would they do if they discovered it was him? What about fingerprints? He wiped his palms on his pants as he stepped in front of the screen. What about his eyes? Did they not have records of those, too? He swallowed hard as a neon light illuminated his face. As far as he knew, he had never been fingerprinted before. No retinal scans that he knew of. But certainly the WHS had some way to keep track of him. A micro tag perhaps.

Beep.

He felt like he was about to pee himself as the outline of his skull appeared on the screen. Walker had told him to be calm. The skull-face technology was new, but effective. People could alter many things about themselves, but the entire skull wasn’t likely. Hence the reconstructive surgery.

Beep.

Something was wrong. Another officer was viewing the scan on the monitor as a discrepancy was being pointed out. Nate felt like the man was poking him in the eyes as the tall man’s slender finger tapped the screen.
They know it’s me!

He could see he skull matching up with another on the monitor. The name Rick Jones appeared, the same as his ID that he had scanned. So what was the problem? He cleared his throat.

“I don’t have all day, gentlemen.”

They ignored his comments. He could see more members of the heavily armed group move in closer.
Geez I’m dead.

Beep.

Walker slid back over and said, “What’s the hold up, boys? We have to get over to the press room stat.”

With a penetrating gaze, the taller man replied, “Colonel, Officer Jones’s heart rate is at 120. What happened, did you have him jog over here?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” A small laugh came from the crowd. “Since when are we monitoring heart rates?”

“Sorry, Colonel Walker, but a new regulation came out hours ago. They boost security every year. One nonsensical procedure after the other. I think they’re looking for someone, but they won’t say.”

Walker was rubbing his chin.

“Hmmm … so does my man check out, other than a jumpy heart rate? It is his first convention rodeo, you know.”

“Everything’s fine other than a runner’s heart rate.”

“So, what’s the new procedure book say?”

The man opened up a notebook that sat on the counter and ran his finger down the pages. As he read the worst out loud Nate became mortified.

“… irregular heart rates that arouse suspicion can call for a full cavity search with proper authority.”

Walker smiled wide under his mirrored glasses as he said, “Well, get the rubber gloves, I’ve got things to do.”

“We’ll try to make it quick,” the man smiled, “barring any unforeseen objects found in the rectum.”

Ten humiliating minutes later, Nate was following Walker through the convention center with a funny walk.

“Gee thanks, that’s just what I needed. I’m all loosened up now,” he fumed.

“I told you to keep your heart rate down.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You did fine. I didn’t think we’d make it this far. As of an hour ago, our people hadn’t hacked the system yet to update your profile. I was sweating bullets, but my heart rate was slow.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t have a heart.”

“Maybe because I don’t need one.” Walker stopped him in the hall. “Now listen up. We’re going in that room.” He pointed with his finger. “I’m posting you near the front tables. Keep your hands down. Stand. Observe. Listen. They’ll be right in front of you, ready to take some questions after the dinner banquet. I’ll check on you. Don’t act. Don’t respond. If you hear anything, we can cover it after we get out of here. The walls have eyes and ears; they are watching and listening. Go in.”

NO!

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Let’s go.”

Less than a minute later, Walker posted him along the wall about thirty feet from the main table. He was one of over two dozen that secured the room. The banquet hall was huge, hosting over 1000 exquisitely dressed guests from all over the world. He remembered being a big part of all of these zombie days, loving it and hating it. He must of posed for over a thousand pictures with people from everywhere inside rooms like this. Now, he stood alone, anonymous, nervous, and free. There was something exhilarating about being nobody. Eyes glanced over and passed him like he was part of the wall.
This is kind of cool.

Walker was on the other side of the room, seated with a handful of dignitaries, looking like a body guard. A familiar voice from the head table cut through the air in uproarious laughter.

Ben Johannes

Big, old, and bald, the man looked like a white ape with a beak for a nose. He had never liked that man or his rotting cigar-smoking breath. His dirty jokes were vile, and his demeanor was cruel. There was no way that guy could be Harry.

He watched them cut up their food, some right and others left handed. Every man had a blood steak on his plate, and the handfuls of women were eating roast chicken. They were all chatting among themselves, savoring every last bit of gluttony. Nate could picture himself up there as well. He wondered if he realized how barren he seemed. He looked into the sea of tables and wondered if anyone really cared about what these people were doing. How many of them were in on their secrets? Who financed the WHS? Maybe Harry was in the crowd.

By the time dessert was served his legs were aching, and Harry hadn’t made himself known. To make matters worse he couldn’t make out anything that they were saying. He never heard the word Harry once. Still, he tried to envision one of them being Harry. He went down the line one by one. He knew them all well enough, but the name plates helped.

Julie Edgerd

Clint Raven

Edgar Crawford

Jim Dunahan

Leslie McKinley

Ben Johannes

Rachel Harriet

Edward McMinnis

Anthony Ravenloft

Sally Myers

Pamela Elswick

Missing from the group were himself and Don Baker.

Harriet. Rachel.
Ben Johannes was draped over her elegant figure like a cloak. It seemed unlikely that she would be the Harry, but hers was the only name that had any kind of attachment to the name Harry. Certainly, Walker and his crew had made that connection and looked into it.
This is pointless.
He wanted to leave. Start a new life. Go to Vegas and disappear. But there was another zombie apocalypse on the horizon. He didn’t want anyone on Earth to go through that again.

“Anything?”

Nate’s heart jumped.

“Just nod.”

He shook his head a little.

Walker slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Hang in there. It’s almost over, but we have to stick around until they leave.”

Nate was daydreaming now; trying to take his mind off the pain in his aching legs and feet. He couldn’t remember standing so long before, and he would kill a man just to be able to take a seat. At the end of the head table he overheard bits and pieces of Anthony Ravenloft’s jovial conversation on his phone. The man had raven black hair, a stout build, and a row of teeth that seemed to be a mile wide. Nate had never talked to that man much. He seemed to keep to himself more so than the others. He excused himself from the table and walked closer to the wall, eyeing the audience and waving at some acquaintances. More uproarious laughter burst from Ben Johannes’ throat, which caught his attention and turned Rachel Harriet’s cheeks the bright color of roses.
What a pompous jerk.
It seemed like most of the room was laughing at something or another at the time, when his ears picked up something that sent a sliver of ice down his spine.

“… Take it easy, Son. I’m just pulling your leg,” Anthony Ravenloft had said. Harry had said that same phrase to him over the years at least a few dozen times.

Chapter 29

(Epilogue)

Washington, D.C.

“D
on’t take it so bad, Jack. It’s only money.”

If Don’s nephew heard him, he couldn’t tell. The young man smashed his computer on the park bench and screamed. The pigeons scattered into the air, leaving Don alone to bask in the moon of the chill night air. He fought the tears and the laughter as the car door slammed shut behind him. Don was getting too old for this. He needed to retire, but for a man in his position, retirement meant death.

The men and women in the West Virginia complex would be safe, for now. Henry Bawkula had proven to be a formidable man. A survivor. A threat to the WHS. Don wanted to be there when the WHS had to explain what had gone wrong. The clean up would be quick and the interrogations ugly, but they would live … gag order pending.

He took his final swallow of coffee and closed his eyes in a moment of thanks. He was all too happy to close his computer and try to forget the tortuous scenes.
Is this what they have in store for me one day?
His inner core shuddered at the thought. He took another minute to bask in his hollow victory. Maybe he should head over to the Zombie Convention. He needed to pick some brains. The fact that he’d been told it was okay to miss this one seemed awfully strange now. He sighed, picked up his Thermos, and tried to think of some comforting words to say to Jack as he headed for the car.

Oliver sat inside as the engine warmed on the big black Cadillac. His bodyguard started to get out of his car, but Don said, “It’s okay, Oliver, I can open my own door.”

As he sat down in his seat, he noticed Jack was slumped over, unmoving. Adrenaline surged through him as he heard the sounds of his door locking.

“Oliver, what is this?” he stammered as he lifted his nephew’s head back and noticed the bloody bullet hole in his chest.

The barrel of a silencer was pointing in his face in reply. Oliver’s voice was ice cold.

“Your nephew had become quite the evil bastard, Don. He had to die.”

Don shrunk back in his seat and said, “Why, Oliver? Why?”

“I told you why.”

“Are you going to kill me, too?” he stammered.

“Don’t you think you deserve to die after being behind the deaths of millions of people?”

“I suppose.”

“Then we both agree.”

BLAM!

Don felt his breathing thin as all of his strength left his body, and he fell over by his nephew’s side. He could hear a song on the radio playing, and Oliver singing. He wondered if he was dead or alive.

“Don’t worry, Don, you aren’t going to die. But you are going to pay for what you did.”

About The Author

Craig Halloran is a veteran, husband and father. He enjoys sports (mostly football), working out, fishing, writing, watching TV and entertaining mankind. His books are filled with endless action, exciting characters and compelling stories. He resides with his family outside of his hometown of Charleston, West Virginia. When he isn’t writing stories he is seeking adventure, working out, or watching sports. To learn more about him go to:
www.thedarkslayer.com

Other works by Craig Halloran

The Darkslayer:
Wrath of the Royals (Book 1)

The Darkslayer:
Blades in the Night (Book 2)

The Darkslayer:
Underling Revenge (Book 3)

The Darkslayer:
Danger and the Druid (Book 4)

The Darkslayer:
Outrage in the Outlands (Book 5)

The Darkslayer:
Chaos at the Castle (Book 6)

The Chronicles of Dragon:
The Sword, The Hero and the Dragons (Book 1)

The Chronicles of Dragon:
Dragon Bones and Tombstones (Book 2)

The Chronicles of Dragon:
Terror at the Temple (Book 3)

Zombie Day Care:
Impact Series: Book 1

Zombie Rehab:
Impact Series: Book 2

Zombie Warfare:
Impact Series: Book 3

It’s Not Him; It’s them

Connect with him at:

Facebook: The Darkslayer Report by Craig

Twitter: Craig Halloran