Louie didn’t know what the loud words meant, but they frightened him.
Someone shouted, “Sound the alarm Weege!”
CHAPTER 24
It had been one of those days that lasted a lot longer than normal. The midday sun had long passed and the dark clouds above were filled with rolling thunder. The heavy breeze was such that John had closed the guard shack door. His feet ached from all the standing and his butt was sore from all the sitting. Over an hour had gone by without a word between him and his grandson. The boy was intent with his video games, and not much for conversation.
“Is that battery ever gonna die Fergie?
The boy looked up, rubbing his puffy brown eyes and said, “I’ve got more batteries. There’s a plug-in here too.”
“Oh … Wanna play some cards?’
“No.”
Shrugging, John pulled a card deck out from a top desk drawer. The guard shack was accommodating. It had an air conditioner filled with icy air and a toasty heater as well. A back-up diesel generator was outside, but he had never used it. There was a beige push button phone sitting on the counter, but it only made calls inside the facility. He had never used it before, either, and didn’t know anyone who had.
He dealt out a hand of solitaire with his blue and white drugstore cards. He hadn’t won in weeks, but maybe this would be his lucky day … but he didn’t feel lucky. He felt like a man in the forest tracking a bear, waiting for the big beast to show up at any second. He wiped the dampness from his forehead. Why am I sweating?
Sprinkles of rain came and went with an occasional rumble of thunder. Somewhere in the distance he swore he heard a tree fall.
“Hey Fergie, why don’t you help me out with these cards? You were always good at this.”
The boy looked up, his freckled cheeks smudged with snack cake fudge.
Messy boy.
The boy replied, “Do I have to? I’m comfortable.”
He sighed, “Suit yourself.”
After a couple of rounds of solitaire passed with failure, he shuffled the deck again and dealt a new set on the counter. He kept thinking about what a long day it had been, as he looked outside, stroking his moustache.
His stomach was growling. He opened the door and inhaled some fresh air. The cold drizzle was refreshing on his face. The facility was quiet as always. He hoped someone would come out. It had been a while since Ronald left without having said a word, green as a toad. Poor fella, never seen him look worse and he looks bad enough to begin with.
Taking his glasses off, he squinted at the facility. The green lights spread on the fence posts had turned red. About then, a fierce wind picked up forcing him back inside, and he closed the door with a loud smack, causing the boy to lurch from his seat.
“Ferguson, did you see those lights turn red?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, how long ago did that happen?”
There was a pause.
“Fergie! How long?” he almost shouted, as a chill rushed through his veins.
The boy took the time to check his watch and said, “Maybe forty minutes.”
John felt all of his muscles tighten between his shoulder blades, “Forty minutes!”
He didn’t know what to do. Those lights had never come on before. He grabbed the telephone. It rang, and kept ringing. He left it off the hook. A sudden gust rocked the shack and the wind began to howl like banshees.
The boy had a stunned look, and fear in his eyes. The boy dropped his game as he cried out, “Grandpa!”
John rushed over and put his arms around the boy. The child was shaking and clutching at his clothes.
“Come on Fergie, let’s get in the truck.” The boy didn’t want to go anywhere, not letting go of his legs. The wind was so loud he couldn’t hear his own voice. He tried to pick the boy up.
“Fergie, let me go!” he hollered.
He was nervous now, feeling trapped inside the shack as the heavy rain began beating down on the metal roof like rocks. If he didn’t get moving, they might be in for a long night. It hurt him to do so as he hoisted the boy up into his arms, tearing the muscles in his aged back. Somehow, he slung a hundred pounds of dead weight over his shoulder and stepped into the unexpected maelstrom.
The rain soaked him the second he stepped outside, splashing him like a thousand tiny waves. The winds were roaring in his ears, and he could see where a large pine had fallen onto the fence. He fought through the wind and could hear the boy’s terrified screams in his ears. He forced his way through the chaos and fumbled for the handle on his truck door. He opened it and blockaded himself inside the door as the boy crawled inside like a frightened rabbit. He jumped inside the cabin as the wind slammed the door behind him.
“Sweet Mary!” he said, wiping off his soaked face with his hand. “Where did that come from?”
“Take me home Grandpa! Take me home!” the boy urged, crawling under the glove box.
He was going to do just that, but he hesitated. The sheets of rain came, and he could see the red lights flickering against the facility. He figured they would need help, but he wasn’t going in, he’d just make a call from down the road. He didn’t want to leave anyone hanging, either. What if they needed help? A blinding flash dazzled his vision as lightning struck the ground between the fence and the facility. It scared him to death. The boy was screaming.
“We’re going boy! We’re gone!”
He fired the big white truck up with a roar as classic country blared from the speakers. He couldn’t see much of anything, but he knew the road. He backed up, fish tailing the truck around and taking off. He didn’t get too carried away moving down the road, but in his rear-view mirror he thought he saw a tree fall on his guard shack. That was too close! Every harrowing minute he felt safer the further he went. The storm seemed to worsen as he winded down the hill. He stopped the truck.
“Grandpa, what are you doing?”
He wanted to go back; it was the right thing to do. He grabbed his grandson’s shaking leg, and gave the situation serious thought. It came down to a choice between life or death. Get Fergie home or his grandma will kill me.
“Screw that mess!” he said as he jumped on the gas.
“Grandpa …”
“Yes Fergie?”
“I don’t want to work with you anymore,” the boy said as they headed down the hill.
“That’s okay, can’t say I’d blame you.”
He was worried about the people inside. They should be safe, but he would probably be fired for leaving. If there were zombies in there, he hoped they didn’t make it out. He’d have to let somebody know, but it would have to wait. He was going home. Family comes first.
The roads were covered with rising water when he reached the bottom of the hill and turned on the main road. A wave of water on the windshield that was followed by another giant splash blinded his sight. A small convoy of black vans and SUV’s raced past him, the likes he had not seen in a long time. He couldn’t say for sure, but he had a pretty good guess where they were headed. That’s odd. Maybe those folks inside didn’t need his help after all. Maybe things were worse than he imagined. Maybe he was wrong. He muttered a prayer.
CHAPTER 25
Inside the facility, the lights were flickering like humming bird wings, sending shivers of fear down everyone’s spine. In the back of his mind, Henry fully expected the hyperactive zombie child to charge from underneath a pile of toys at any moment. He spun slowly around, with his head on a swivel, as his friends did the same.
“Where is he Weege!?” he yelled.
A frantic figure raced over the catwalk and leaned over the guard rail aghast.
“I don’t know, he could be anywhere? Hurry—get up here.”
Rudy and Tori looked over at him with frightened eyes.
“Go up there and help him, I have to tell Dad and find Jimmy.”
She grabbed his arm.
“You have to come up—until we fi
nd him! He has to be in here, there’s nowhere he can go.” Her voice was shaking, and her hand trembled as she said it. “This is bad, I can feel it. We have to stick together. Don’t go!” she urged.
He took her in his arms, and he didn’t want to go anywhere. He was torn. If something happened to his brother he could live with that, but not his step dad. No, Stanley wouldn’t be ready for the unexpected.
“I’ve got to go. I love you!”
He gave her a long hard kiss. He could feel her warm tears on his cheek, and when he looked back in her eyes he could see how frightened she was. He didn’t want to leave her.
“Now get up there you two!”
Rudy was already up the ladder shoot as he pushed her along. She went up with heavy sobs. He ran over to the cages and checked that all of the children were secured. Each quick glance confirmed they were safe.
The playroom was a long oval, almost four thousand square feet. The cages ran along the back walls of the odd arena. One of those cages should have housed Louie, and it was on the other side.
He put on his suit and mask, then took the mask back off. It blocked too much of his peripheral vision. This suit better work. He passed by the locked cages, expecting something to lunge at him any second. Another shotgun was racked along the wall; he pulled it off and checked the chamber. It was empty and the ammo box was nowhere to be found. He pulled one shell from his lab coat pocket. It was buckshot, a joke from John the guard long ago. The old man told him it would bring him luck. But would it kill a zombie? Better than nothing.
He moved fast along the inner perimeter until he approached cage 17, where Louie was last seen. He stopped, loaded the shotgun, and leveled it at his hips. Here we go. He was burning up inside, sweat soaking his suit inside and out.
He jumped in front of the cage door, but nothing was there. He felt relief, but only for a moment. He had begun to back toward the center of the room when he noticed something. The light to the security room door was green. It was open, just enough for a boy to squeeze through. Crap. He could see white light spilling from the crack, and he knew what he had to do. He hoped he would find a trapped zombie in there.
He scanned his badge and a negative beep sounded, so he peeked inside. The florescent lights inside were flickering, causing a strobe effect. He was sure nothing was in there, but at the other end the elevator was open, like the mouth of a black tunnel. A red light glimmered above the entrance. He sucked in his breath, squeezed between the doors, wedging himself in between them. He was halfway through when the light turned red. Oh no! He was stuck. He felt a sharp pain as the door pinched his shoulder. The pressure was building. If Louie showed up now, it was over; he was trapped. Was this something Jimmy had done? Was his brother capable of murder? He pushed on the edge of the door, but it wouldn’t give.
With a grunt of desperate determination, he pushed with all of his might. The door budged enough for him to force his body through. He flexed his shoulder. It wasn’t dislocated, but it felt like it. He found little relief when he realized he was alone in the corridor. He noticed the light above the door was green again and the crack was still there. It was odd.
He headed toward the elevator shaft. What am I going to do? Step-by-step, he walked toward the elevator, shotgun ready. The closer he got, the more he could see of the dim outline of the elevator. The flickering lights made him feel like there was movement all around him. His heart was beating in his ears. Within ten feet the image inside became more clear. He stepped inside. The elevator was empty.
The buttons inside weren’t lit as he pressed them a dozen times. It didn’t make sense to him. There was power in the building, and the generators would be humming if there weren’t, but he didn’t hear them, and he usually could tell the difference. He started to worry. What if the power went out? They had been through storms before, but not with a zombie on the loose. What if lightning struck a generator or a tree fell on it? Everything was going wrong today, and dread sunk in deeper. Where was Louie? Where was Jimmy, and what about Stanley? Second thoughts surged in his mind; they should have stayed together. Tori was right. I better head back.
As he made his way back to the cracked door, he heard a blood curdling scream coming from the other side. It was Tori. He ran for the opening, but the door slid closed and the light turned red.
“NOOOOOO!” he screamed, but nobody heard.
CHAPTER 26
Between heavy snorts were jostling flinches as the thunder rattled his core. The monitors were clear before him as he had arranged backup power. Jimmy was smarter than everybody and he knew it. He felt like the demi-god of a black dungeon, with the lives of others balancing on his whims. Now he was distracted, trying to reconnect the encrypted live feed to his associates. The live feed was still broken by the storm. It wasn’t going to happen, so he had to resort to plan C, for he had forgotten B, and A was fading in his memory.
Now, enthralled with his own power, he turned Louie loose to feast on his former friends. He felt the excitement, like the first time he was in a brothel, when he saw the looks on their distraught faces. He watched as his brother was wiping sweat from his brow, agonizing over what to do next. He was laughing as if he hosted a horror film festival, fingers clasped together under his chin.
“Henry the zombie. Henry the zombie,” he repeated in a childish tune. “Oh Henry, I am sorry I have to blow your head off! But this is how I save the world!”
He couldn’t help himself; it was all coming together so well.
There was another problem, and paranoia set in as he remembered he had to get his stepfather's serum. The data he needed wasn’t on the main server. No, his stepfather was too old fashioned. It was on Stanley's non-networked computer, at an isolated work station, pass-code protected and all. He had to get that data. Stanley wasn’t going anywhere. His movements suggested there was nothing to worry about.
“Good Stan, just keep working like a fool.”
Tori and Rudy were climbing the stair chutes like frightened chickens while Henry played the hero with an unloaded shotgun. What an idiot! Checking his monitors, Jimmy tried to locate Louie, dying to see the boy take a bite out of any of them, allowing him to record the show.
“Ah, there you are, Chunky.”
There was an unlit alcove they used for storing many stuffed toys and other cuddly things. The boy was hunched over, pulling the stuffing from the inside of a massive light blue teddy bear. Louie was in husky jeans, tennis shoes and a blue striped shirt. The boy's brown hair was hanging down over half his face, while his chubby hands jammed white clumps of synthetic material in his mouth.
“You’re eating the wrong thing, Stupid!” Jimmy shouted, poking the computer screen.
He watched a little longer, until his brother’s movements caught his eye. Maybe his brother did have shotgun shells after all? Maybe Jimmy had missed some of them? He was certain he got them all. Or had he? Even so, he knew he could outsmart his brother. He cackled again.
Accessing the security and elevator door systems, he cracked open the main entrance to the romper room. His knees were bouncing up and down as he sat biting his nails. He watched with jovial clarity, zooming in on his brother’s stern expression.
“Come on. Come on little wabbit.”
His brother peered through the door and began to inch through. He hit a key, closing the door.
Jimmy jumped up with elation,
“Yes! I got you—you bastard!”
He couldn’t believe it had been so easy. They were hamsters in his cage, and he ruled their world. A loud crash of thunder shook his bones, followed by a brilliant flash of white on the monitors, causing him to drop his beer can.
“Dammit!”
He looked at the outside monitors, but the wind and rain blocked his view of anything worth noticing. He had to get moving. He looked back at the screen and watched Henry force himself through.
“What!?”
His trap had failed, but that was tempor
ary.
He followed his brother’s movements, heading towards and away from the elevator. As Henry made his way back to the playroom, Jimmy saw something else happening. He closed the door just in time to see his running brother scream. There was another crack of thunder. Jimmy realized he couldn’t watch. He had to get moving.
He stood inside the security room, which worked as a panic room of sorts. Inside it, he could safely execute his wicked intentions without anyone knowing. It used to be that three guards monitored the facility at all times, but now there was only one, lying on the floor dead as a stone. The guard was laughing and joking with Jimmy one moment, and shot with a taser the next. He hadn’t moved since. The old man with crystal blue eyes and invigorating stories couldn’t handle the final thrill. His heart gave out. Jimmy, as shocked as he was, laughed like a hyena at the thought. Now he bent down and took the dead fellow's .357 magnum. This looks easy enough. He aimed the gun at the old guard's head, pulled the trigger, and moved on.
The security room was in the basement, isolated like a bunker in the ground. A corridor went left and right as he exited. The left took him to the main elevator down to Stanley’s lab. On the right was an emergency exit door, rarely used, and unknown to most. It was there he would make his glorious exit. He walked down the hall to the small lobby by the elevator, took the spiral stairs down, turned up the adjacent corridor and entered his stepfather’s lab.
“Working hard Stan?” he said.
Stan looked up with worry and surprise on his face.
“Uh … yeah Son, you know me, I’m always working hard.” His stepfather stood up tall and walked toward him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway, I’m glad you’re here,” Stanley said with his usual warm smile.