of the window. More quietly, he spoke this part. “Mike, let me sit up there with you.
This Trip guy has pudding for brains. He keeps calling me TP, and then stops himself
and asks if I’m Native American.”
“What? Oh…tepee, I get it,” I said.
“Yeah, so do I, but I don’t want to sit near him anymore. I thought your form of crazy
might be catchy, but it oozes off of him.”
“I’d love to help you, man, I would,” I smiled, “but with the bikers so close behind
us, I don’t want to stop the truck. Maybe you should help him fold up some paper.”
“Oh, and that’s another thing. He hands me this thing that looks like a paper meatball
and he asked me what I thought of his rendition of the Eiffel Tower. I mean, this
shit can’t be for real can it?”
“You get used to him.”
“Mike, I don’t want to. He kind of scares me, man.”
“A biker gang is pursuing us and you’re more worried about a guy that torched his
last brain cell back in 1979?”
“Exactly,” BT replied.
Chapter 20 – Doc
“So, Captain Najarian, is it true what the captured truckers said?” Dixon Hawes, former
Senator of Texas and one of the richest men in the world, asked.
“I rarely trust the word of a prisoner being tortured, but it does seem that they
were telling the truth,” The captain answered.
“So the mythical Dr. Hugh Mann’s suitcase is real. I never thought I’d see the day
when that would be discovered. How is Doctor Baker doing?”
“His research is going well. I don’t believe that he has caught up to our team yet,
though.”
“Should we bring him into the fold, Captain?”
“I don’t think so, sir. From what I can tell, he’s approaching the problem from a
different angle. I don’t know who’s right and who isn’t, but to have him see our progress
may alter his way of solving the problem.”
“Agreed. Have you got copies of the contents of the case?”
“It took two valiums in the good Doctor’s dinner to do it. He never leaves the suitcase.
It has all been copied and brought to the main research facility.”
“He has no idea the true purpose of this place?”
“No, sir, he believes it to be what I told him.”
“Would he come on board if he did know?”
“Doubtful, sir.”
“What about using this Porkchop as leverage?”
“I would prefer it didn’t come to that, sir, but possibly.”
“Just a few more months, Captain, and we would already be in power. That’s how close
we were to a vaccine. I don’t know what that idiot Deneaux was thinking.”
Winston Deneaux owned the facilities that had housed the viral agent. It had been
his sole job in the whole process to safeguard it and then distribute the weapon when
he was told to.
“He lost focus when he started screwing his secretary,” Dixon said, his large jowls
turning a shade of angry red.
Captain Najarian had heard this rant before and stayed quiet. He did not remind Hawes
that it had been the senator’s idea to send Lori Stanton to spy on Winston. The captain
was impressed that the old geezer could even get it up to do her. Had to be pills, he mused. Even with Deneaux’s screw up, the captain had been sent to retrieve Winston
once the zombies came. When he got to the house, someone had beaten him there. The
old man was sitting in his armchair with a neat bullet hole drilled through his head.
Looked like a professional hit. The poor bastard hadn’t even seen it coming.
“What about this Michael Talbot? Has there been any luck in finding him?” Dixon asked.
“Sir, it’s a little difficult to spare the resources looking for this man right now.”
“I want him found, Captain. The man and his family were in possession of the suitcase
for over seventy years, we need to know if they’ve discovered any secrets to the doctor’s
research. We cannot afford any loose ends, do you understand me?”
“Loud and clear, sir.”
“Then I want you to make this your first priority. Send up those drones and have those
little video game players find him!” Spittle was now coming down the senator’s chin.
“Sir, if he’s out there, the pilots will find him. If not, I can assemble a team and
we’ll go up to his brother’s house in Maine.”
“No more loose ends, Captain. We’re so close I can taste it. We will run this world
the way it was intended. With an iron fist!” he shouted as he brought his hand down
on the table they were seated at.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely, the captain thought. But he was not complaining, he had been promised complete control
of the military, and once the zombies were eradicated, he would rebuild an army that
the world would quake at. Looks like I caught a little of the fever. In theory, he liked everything the Triumvirate stood for. It was an equality of
all those below the ruling class.
Crime would be wiped from the planet, because to commit one was tantamount to suicide.
Justice would be swift and final. Man would be free to practice whatever faith they
desired so long as it started with a solemn prayer to the Triumvirate. People would
earn their keep or they would be denied the protection and vaccination they offered.
As quickly as the senator and his party could give, they could take away. Even if
a person had received the vaccination there was a way to override the produced antibodies
and reintroduce the zombie virus. All those that did as the ruling class dictated
were safe. A populace that had to capitulate or die, that would ensure their complicity.
The Captain had always considered himself a patriot and now he was on the side for
Socialism. ‘Wouldn’t the world be better off with one leader, one direction. All striving
for the betterment...of what.’ He paused. ‘Dixon.’ Was the only answer he could come
up with. Dixon had approached him with such lofty ideals when the plan was in its
infancy. A world without wars, hate, drugs, crime, the worst of humanity wiped clean
from the planet.
‘We’ll be the new Noah’s Ark.’ Dixon had promised.
On some level the Captain knew the fallacy, less people meant less war, hate, drugs
and crime but certainly not the eradication of them. It was the power Dixon offered
that truly intrigued him, no matter what Dixon’s words said, it was the implied meaning
that spurred them both on.
“Sir, we are having problems with the zombies.”
“Don’t get bitten, seems like a safe enough problem to avoid,” the senator said peevishly.
Easy enough for you to say, you haven’t left this place since the outbreak, the captain thought. “It’s more than that, sir. It appears that the zombies are
getting smarter.”
“How smart can a brain eating zombie get? I don’t care, Captain. Once we can secure
the vaccine, none of that will matter.”
The captain saw it differently, but it was useless to argue with Dixon. The man was
so fixated on being Supreme Commander as to be blind to everything else. He wondered
how long it would take until he got the command to take out the only remaining member
of the Triumvirate. With Deneaux’s death, there was only Dixon and Harry Wendelson,
the largest land baron in the United States, the man wh
o owned the land they were
now residing on. Captain Najarian would do it because he knew which side his bread
was buttered on, and then there’d be nothing between Dixon and the asshole he was
sure to become.
“Leaders always die,” the captain said as he walked away from the senator. “And then
who knows how high a lowly captain can climb.”
His first stop was to the pilot’s room, which, in retrospect, did look a lot like
a basement filled with PlayStation playing gamers. Then off to see Doctor Baker. The
drones had proved an invaluable tool in finding him, there was no reason to think
they couldn’t do the same for this Talbot guy.
Chapter 21 – Mike Journal Entry 10
The bikers never got any closer that day; they also didn’t get any further. And gas
was beginning to become an issue (even with the fifty gallon fuel-filled drum Gary
had put in the back, attached by a hose to the fuel tank) as we traveled out of Massachusetts,
Rhode Island, Connecticut and into New York. By the time we were midway through Virginia,
it was evident we were going to need more.
“Must be a low crime day,” I said aloud.
BT had enough impetus to get away from Trip that he crawled through a hole I didn’t
think was going to allow him through by half. He almost got stuck once and then Trip
had started talking about patting his thighs down with lard and BT had pulled himself
the rest of the way through. The talk of being buttered up made me remember my time
in the cave. I nearly had a breakdown just thinking about it. As it was, when I slept,
I dreamt about it almost every night. I’d wake up in a cold sweat and every part of
my body felt like I was in the grip of a vise, barely able to move my fingers. I wouldn’t
wish that on Mrs. Deneaux…wait, I just might, but only if I could watch.
“Why I rise to the bait I have no idea,” BT said sadly. “Okay, Mike, I’m listening.”
“I mean, why else are they following us? What do they hope to gain?” I asked, truly
wanting to know.
“They’re a gang, Mike, they’re seeking payback. Doesn’t matter to them at all if they
started it. What matters to them is that they end it. Their leader will look weak
if he doesn’t.”
“What if we kill him?”
“Chances are they’ll scatter at that point, but it’s tough to tell which one it is.”
“We need to get off the highway.”
“Oh shit, man, you’ve got that ‘I’ve got a plan’ look on your face. Or you need to
take a crap, they’re both pretty much the same.”
I ignored his barb. “We need to either draw them in closer or find a place to lay
down an ambush. If you’re right and they’re going to keep following us, I want to
get rid of them now. Plus, it gives us a chance to get some fuel.
“So let me get this right. You want to lose them or set up a place to waylay them,
both pretty much requiring stealth.”
“Yeah that sounds about right.”
“You do know you have your blinker on, right?”
“Son of a bitch.” I turned it off. “Habit, man. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Being Nicole’s wet nurse would be more fun than this.”
“No it wouldn’t,” I responded.
“Probably right.”
“No shit.”
The bikers did indeed close the distance as I took the off-ramp. Maybe three hundred
yards or so, far enough away that getting a decent shot off was nearly out of the
question, but close enough that they’d be able to see me turn off. My gas gauge had
just passed down below a quarter. One way or the other, we were coming to a head.
“How much longer?” Trip asked, sticking his head through the window.
“Doesn’t that window have a lock?” BT asked.
“How much longer until what, Trip?” I asked, giving BT a cross look.
“Oh! Hey, Ponch!” he said happily.
“He hurts my head,” BT said.
“It should be soon enough,” I gave him an answer to his mythical question.
“Oh great,” he said, pulling his head out.
“Hey, Mike, some of the bikers are leaving the main group,” Gary said, coming up to
the window next.
“Maybe they’re getting sick of chasing us,” Justin said with hope.
“Or more likely they’re setting up their own ambush.” BT said it as I was thinking
it.
“How many in the main group still after us?” I asked him.
“Dozen or so.”
“Still too many. Alright, I saw signs for gas a mile up. Get Travis, Tommy, and Tracy
up with some guns. Justin, I want you to go back there, too. Well this ought to be
an interesting ten minutes,” I told BT, referring to how long it was going to take
to refuel.
“What do you want me to do?”
“What you do best,” I told him, “look mean.”
The bikers stopped as we did, one or two dared to get in closer, then thought better
of it when one of them had the lens of his headlight blown out.
“Come on, come on, come on.” I quickly pumped the hand crank, too nervous to look
around much.
“I wonder how they’re doing for gas?” BT asked, standing next to me.
“I would think they’ve got to be getting low as well.”
“I say we torch the station,” BT said.
“It’s not a horrible idea, but it’s not really going to slow them down. There are
probably ten stations in a mile radius from here.”
“I know that man, but how often are we going to have the chance to do it.”
“It would be a hell of an explosion,” I said with a gleam in my eye, thinking about
the resultant mushroom cloud. I don’t know what it is that is built into a man that
causes him to love when things explode.
“Plus, it might give them pause to reconsider chasing us,” BT hastily added.
“Dude, I’m already convinced. You don’t need to keep rationalizing with me. You got
any ideas how to get this done?”
“I was a cop, of course I do.”
“Wait, you were a cop? How come I didn’t know about that?”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No, I think I would have remembered that coming up in a conversation. I knew there
was a reason I didn’t like you.”
“Likewise,” BT answered.
“So, did you have much reason to blow up gas stations on your patrols? Was it retribution
for the owners not giving you enough of those cheap donut wannabe’s?”
“Come on, Mike, those things are gross. It’s like eating chocolate chalk.”
“You must have never smoked weed, because those damn things are heavenly. I mean not
that I smoked pot, I’ve just heard some people talking about it.”
“I said I was a cop.”
“What’s the matter, was internal affairs closing in on your corruption?”
“You watched too much television.”