Zombie Zero (16 page)

As his own behaviors had come clear to him, Allen had seen Todd in a different light. Todd was an achiever, and Maya was one of his achievements. She knew that as well as Allen did; she was a smart girl. She also knew that she could turn from one of them to the other at any time, and she never had. Somewhere in facing the truth about himself he had faced the truth about her as well: she had never wanted him, not like that. It was tempting to think that if she hadn’t become the first zombie, things might have changed; but those were thoughts for the weak mind that he had shed with his soft flesh.

Allen had always thought of Todd as a douche. Despite his fondness for being precise in his definitions of words, he had always liked the way it sounded in his head. When he had thought of Todd in the past, that was the word he substituted for the simple moniker. Having taken a step back from his own life, Allen realized that Todd had been exceedingly kind to him. Had their situations and body types been reversed, Allen doubted that he would have been so tolerant of Todd hanging about all the time. It was not an easy moment when Allen saw who the douche in the situation had actually been.

Reflective surfaces had become his enemy when his skin had begun to fall from his face. Allen had never thought of himself as a great-looking guy, or anything; but he had never had trouble looking in a mirror. It seemed strange to him that he somehow had the courage to look at himself like never before while being unable to tolerate even a glimpse of his own changed features. He knew what his body looked like, and his hands: he had watched his long legs pumping to chase down helpless prey, had seen those powerful claws tear limbs from bodies and flesh from bones countless times. His new features were the only mystery remaining to Allen, reflections from the mirror the only enemy.

The zombies were in charge of everything now. Allen had expected society to crumble in a matter of days; instead it had simply changed hands. The power failed; the howlers fixed it. The governments shut down the internet; the zombies turned it back on. News reports were being read by howlers, advising hungry zombies on where fresh flesh might still be found. Most of the other channels were blank screens, or screaming static; but the howlers had taken over all of the Fix Network channels. They broadcast tired retreads of tired ideas in what they thought was an inventive new way, although only ramblers and trapped humans watched most of it. The truly popular shows were “To Catch A Human” and “Zombie Night Live”. All the howlers stopped hunting and found a television every night at nine to watch them back to back.

Allen had taken to avoiding the televisions blaring on every street like he had taken to avoiding mirrors. The scant availability of fresh meat made his hunger as easy to examine as his feelings, and he wandered empty quiet streets wishing he could be rid of both. It was a lucky thing that he happened to be near a television in the early morning hours one day, in a string of days spent wandering. It was the first human voice he had heard in a while.

“We can’t give out our location,” the desperate voice spoke. “But we can tell folks where to go. Listen carefully, humans and ramblers and howlers alike. There is hope for us all. The American government knew about this possibility. They developed a drug that would reverse the change we have all seen in our friends and loved ones, or ourselves. We have been manufacturing all that we can, and we’re ready to share it.”

Allen rushed to stand before the television. It was in what used to be a shop display window. The glass had been shattered, as had the other sets on display; but a sixty inch flatscreen was still on in the showcase. There was no image, and Allen nearly caught a glimpse of his face reflected in the dark screen. He looked away, listened intently.

“I repeat, there is no point of no return. Stop killing each other and start looking for the places we will be distributing the cure for this horrible sickness. There is great danger in exposing ourselves, but the howlers seem dormant in the early morning hours. Check this channel this time tomorrow for the first distribution point. All I can say is: get to America if you can. We don’t know when we will be able to distribute worldwide, but for now we will be somewhere in America every morning at seven. We will announce the location at five minutes till. Good luck, everyone, and have hope. And for God’s sake, stop killing each other unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Allen strode off faster than he had walked in many days. He had to find an airport.

Chapter 19

The captain was fairly convinced that the cruise line employees were playing an elaborate joke on him. After twenty years of service, he would have been happy with a gold watch; this all seemed like too much effort for a prank. He’d been shown news reports, then told not to talk to passengers or other crew members about it. It must have taken them days to find all the fake reports, undoubtedly from horror movies. The captain kept his cool, and played his cards close to his vest, even when the itinerary kept getting extended. He would not be laughed at, not on his own ship. Meanwhile, on the Lido Deck…

“Look, honey,” Michael pointed. “I told you they would be sending supplies.”

Linda looked out at the ocean. She squinted. “Is that a ship?”

Michael nodded. “A big ship. It looks military.” He sat up straighter, peered through the wet salted glass. “Do you have the binoculars?”

Fishing them from her purse, Linda held out the strap.

“Thanks.” Michael put them up to his eyes. He frowned, moving slightly left then slightly right. His frown deepened. “Hmm.”

“What?” Linda was frowning now too. “What do you see?”

Michael shook his head, set the binoculars on the table. He took off his glasses, cleaned them thoroughly, rested them on his nose, and lifted the dual telescopes to his eyes once more.

“Honey,” he said, suddenly very serious, “let’s go back to the cabin.”

He stood up.

“Michael,” she said, standing as well. “What did you see?”

“It’s not a supply ship,” he responded. He took her hand.

“Let me see.”

Michael shrugged. “Don’t scream.”

“Don’t be silly,” she responded, putting the binoculars to her eyes. She let go his hand to adjust the knob. “I’m not a screamer…”

She trailed off, her face going white. Michael wondered if she’d seen the flag first, like he had. It was easy to tell what the picture on the flag was, for anyone who had caught a glimpse of a howler, or seen a photo. The hungry toothy face was as tall as a man, and was unmistakably inhuman. Or did she see the group of howlers standing on deck, watching the ship approach their next feast? She didn’t say, and it didn’t matter. Linda paled, stowed the field glasses in her purse and took his hand again.

The first screams began when they stepped from the elevator. Someone else must have seen, or the ship was getting closer faster than he had thought possible. It didn’t matter; they only had one more hallway to traverse, and then they were in their cabin. Glancing back over his shoulder, Michael could see that the elevator they had just vacated was crammed with people. Rather than let the doors close and wait for another, passengers were pulling each other from the metal box. Two men stood in the entrance, struggling, while the door tried to close on them over and over. The stairs were a mass confusion of people trying to go up being shoved over backwards and trampled by people headed down.

He lost sight of the pandemonium as they headed up the hallway. A cluster of passengers were moving their way, filling the narrow passage with their panicked flight. Michael angled himself between them and his wife as they charged. He wasn’t a big guy, but he wasn’t about to let her get trampled either.

“Hey!” he shouted, waving his hands. They kept coming, and he pulled his arms in close to shoulder them aside as they neared. The hall was filled with the sounds of footfalls and panicked breathing. They all passed at once, slamming him into the wall a couple times but missing Linda. He watched them pounding down the hallway, shaking his head.

“Hey!” He called out again. To his surprise, one young man stopped. He turned, shaking his head as he came out of the thoughtless daze of many minds acting as one.

“Sorry,” the young man said, smiling weakly.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked him.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Michael frowned. “Why are you running?”

He flushed, shook his head again. “I don’t know.”

When they had begun to ration the remaining food, they had also made drinks free. Michael had questioned the wisdom of the decision; this young man had apparently taken full advantage of it. He teetered in place, his eyes rimmed in red and dulled with confusion.

Linda tugged on Michael’s sleeve. “Sweetie.”

He turned, and they started moving down the hallway.

“Hey!” Michael turned back to the young man’s voice. He was still teetering precariously, but now his eyes were bright and round.

“You’re the ‘Storm Portal’ guy!” The young man was pointing at him and grinning. “You’re Michael R. Stern!”

“Oh, come on,” he heard Linda say behind him. “Now?”

“Sorry, buddy,” Michael smiled. “You got the wrong guy.”

He grabbed Linda’s hand and led her to the door. He slid the card into the slot while she laughed.

“‘Don’t worry, honey,’” she said, mocking him. “‘Writing is a hard world to get famous in, and even famous authors seldom get recognized in public.’”

Michael held the door open for her, and she stepped inside the room. He closed it behind him, engaging what little security the thin panel offered. Linda was already at the balcony, her hand on the slider’s handle.

“Careful,” he called out quietly.

She turned, looked at him. “Of what?”

Michael watched a blur in swim trunks go past behind her. Another followed, and this one’s head thunked loudly on the railing of their balcony. The muffled thud made Linda jump, and she turned back to the glass.

“What was that?”

“Never mind.” Michael shook his head. “Just be careful.”

He grabbed a deck towel from the dresser and followed her into the ocean air. He swabbed at the streak of blood while she craned her head to look up and down.

“They’re lowering the lifeboats,” she said. “People are jumping.”

Linda turned to him as he tossed the towel aside.

“People are jumping,” she said again.

Michael nodded. He pointed. “They’re getting closer.”

They could see the flag clearly now, as could anyone on the ship. It looked more detailed up close, cartoonish and terrifying at the same time. The howler in the portrait had bloody fangs, rows of them. They could hear the monsters on deck as well. They howled their hunger, and the sound carried over the narrowing expanse of sea between the two ships. They were also leaping over the sides of their ship, and the people in the water began to turn into brief bursts of blood as they overtook them one by one. Three lifeboats were in the water between the ships, loaded with drunk and panicked passengers. Michael watched while two were boarded by swimming howlers and the other struck the prow of the zombie ship. It burst into a thousand pieces, and bodies flew in every direction; then it was gone.

“At least the captain is trying to get away,” Michael noted. The invaders had been pointed at a right angle to the ship a minute ago; now it was turning, chasing them as the ship made for the open sea.

“From a military vessel?” Linda laughed bitterly.

“Hey, look.” Michael moved closer to the railing. “They’re still turning. Linda, honey, it looks like they’re turning away.”

She was nodding in disbelief. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They watched together in silence as the ship showed them its broad side for a moment. Then it turned even more, clearly heading away from them. They sighed together. Michael put his arm around her shoulders, squinted at the other ship’s deck one last time.

“Honey,” he breathed. “Let’s get inside.”

“What? Why?” She followed his gaze.

As her eyes found the submarine, it fired the first concussive round. It struck their ship a moment later, and they felt the floating city shudder. The next two rounds were accompanied by a fresh wave of screams and jumpers. The air filled with smoke as it trailed from their ship, and they felt the floor tilt under their feet as the floating vessel turned the rest of the way away from theirs. Their ears were filled with the distant sounds of tortured twisting metal, their cruise liner dipped lower in the water, and the zombie pirate ship disappeared over the horizon. The submarine dipped below the waves once more, and vanished.