Zedtopia: Book 3 of The Zed Files Trilogy, page 23
The Professor speaks quickly but he’s not flustered. Something up his sleeve for sure. Tyler and I just watch.
“Part of the job description,” Kennard says calmly and leans back in his chair. “To defend against all enemies, foreign and domestic. If it means laying down my life for my country, then that’s what happens.”
“Ah, yes. But I seem to recall that you’ve already done that once. Haven’t you?” The Professor smiles. It’s all Cheshire cat. Like he might vanish into thin air at any moment.
Kennard’s eyes narrow. “How’s that?” More menace than question.
The Professor leans back and inspects a small bit of dirt under his fingernail. “I’m guessing you don’t remember much since you were legally dead when you showed up at my little laboratory. Pulled out of a hostile area of the Infected Zone, multiple bullet wounds… that particularly nasty one right next to your ticker. Not sure how you even lasted long enough to get flown back. But by god, you did. The funny thing was, they had no sooner brought your gurney in when you died right there in front of me.”
Kennard stares straight at The Professor. Undead eyes loaded with knives. Take away the clearly defined pupil and some of the translation is lost. But the stiffening back and pointed chin relay the message clearly. “Did I?”
“There I was, syringe in hand, debating one more time the ethical and moral dilemma of testing such a concoction on a real live human patient. And then bloop. You weren’t alive anymore. So it seemed like a pretty easy decision. What could it hurt? Much like the CPR training I took years ago. The first thing they tell you is not to worry. The patient is dead already. Nothing you do can kill them more. So I gave you the shot.”
Kennard gives a silent snort with a long blink. He clears his throat and gives a little cough. “So. It’s you I have to thank.”
“Yes, yes that would be me.” The Professor stands and plucks a cellphone out of his pocket. “I always found Shelley’s little story of poor Victor Frankenstein to be more than just a little annoying. Herr Frankenstein always seemed to me to be more of a coward and an idiot than a mad scientist. But after you began to re-animate, I suddenly had a newfound appreciation of the story as a whole.”
Kennard smiles now. “And so I’m the monster?”
The Professor shakes his head. “No. You’re just ill-informed and slightly misdirected. But I wouldn’t say you’re a monster. At least not any more than anyone else here. But I tell you what. We’re going after the monster. And I mean, The Monster. The monster we all had a hand in creating. And we could use a man like you.”
Kennard pulls another cigar from his coat pocket. He flinches when I reach for a cigarette in mine. Relaxes when he sees it’s only a Camel then pats his pockets looking for his lighter. I give him a light. He nods to say thanks. “What makes you think I’d like to be used?”
“You’ve been comfortable with it all this time, serving in the military. Why not get on the right side of things?” Kennard stands suddenly. Bristles. Back straight, chest pushed out. The Professor holds up a hand. “To clarify, I do find it a very honorable thing. The impulse to serve country and countrymen. To fight the good fight, to liberate the oppressed. It was once a noble profession and I see it returning to such in the very near future.
“Unfortunately, service in the armed forces turned into more of a mercenary endeavor over the last few decades. Serving the corporate masters who controlled the puppet politicians. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness all got pushed to the side. War became profitable. They baited in the poor and directionless with promises of free education and highly marketable job skills. And all they got in the end was a guilty conscience, post-traumatic stress and minimum wage jobs. Not much of a hero’s homecoming. Disgraceful treatment, really.”
“Can’t let you do it.” Kennard walks towards the tent flap. “Can’t let you hand the country over to the Russians, the Chinese. Can’t let you overthrow what’s left of the country. I’ve got my orders and… ”
The Professor holds up his hand. “What if I told you that we were actually in agreement? And that we were merely arguing the finer points?”
Kennard stops and turns. “I’m listening.”
The Professor sits down and puts his feet up on the chair next to him. “What if I told you right now, the country had already been taken over? That right now, at this very minute, dignitaries from Israel, Saudi Arabia, North Korea, Russia, Europe… representatives from all over… were sitting down with our politicians and corporate heads around the bargaining table, divvying up our beloved little chunk of terra firma?”
“Where?”
The Professor smiles. “Well, before the beginning of this new age, it was happening everywhere. All the time. Right under our very noses. But today, it’s happening in a very specific place. And at the head of the bargain table is our current head of state. Our own Vice President, Bruce Richards.” The Professor pauses and stares up at the top of the tent. “Now, a moment ago, you were willing to die defending us from foreign enemies. What are your thoughts now about the domestic variety?”
Zedtopia Chapter 48: Warriors
“Welcome one and all.” The Professor holds his hands out in front of him as if to silence the crowd but no one is speaking. The tables and chairs remains largely untouched as each group hangs back to the sides of the tent. Some ten odd factions represented by three members each. All carry rifles, pistols, grenades, rocket launchers.
Kennard rocks on the back two legs of his chair against the wall. His cigar glows orange Morse code. Smoke signals send the same message.
The Professor lowers his voice and rotates with his hands still held aloft. “The world is our suckers! Can youuuuu dig it!”
Each one in the tent looks to each other and then to the others. No one says anything. No one laughs. Tyler rubs his forehead and groans. I can’t help but laugh. The Professor nods at me and smiles. “Glad somebody got it. Always wanted to say that.” He clears his throat and lowers his hands. “Pressing onward, welcome to our little international gathering. Besides several representatives of various state and local indigenous groups, we also have folks here from Russia, China, Canada, Mexico and our own United States military.”
The assembled crowd looks silently from one group to the other.
“Welcome, one and all. Now. As it has come to pass, through the magic of our universal plinko board, the fate of the world changed by means none but a few could have imagined. And we have fought through layer after layer of unimaginable horror to arrive at a place where we can contemplate beginning again. We have a vaccine for the contagion. We have a relatively empty planet with more than enough resources for those remaining. We have the 20/20 hindsight by which to view our nearsighted past. We have the technology at hand to bring about the exact kind of future that will benefit all mankind. But we cannot do it with old hands gripping the wheel. We cannot advance and still drag behind us the dead weight of societies, governments and leaders past.” He pauses and smiles around the room, “We get to run it our way, people. But we’ve got to do some culling of the herd or we’re going to end up following the same old bull.”
Kennard laughs from where he’s sitting. “So, just so that I understand.” He crushes out the cigar and folds his arms. “We get rid of all of our experienced and trusted leaders, destroy what’s left of any semblance of law, order, government and society… and then run the world like some kind of hippie commune where everyone just gets along in three part harmony? That’s the world you see?”
“No nee, no nee, no nee, no, no, no,” The Professor rattles back. “No, there’ll be a government. And to start with, there will be A Government. For everyone. We’ll leave the national boundaries where they’re at until someone comes up with a better idea. And there will be law and order and equality and freedom for all. Or as many as we can. But we’re not going to go skipping down the militarized road to a polarized world again.
“No, what I’m talking about is more of a direction that we’re all going to steer towards. At least at first. Make a few major overhauls, appoint a few qualified folk when we’re ready and then get on with it. Some will go willingly, others will need persuasion, others still will lie well beyond the scope of participation. Possibly in a more permanent and literal sense of the word ‘beyond’ than would seem charitable, but there you go. We’re going to make the mother of all omelets. Can’t have any rotten eggs stirred in with the rest.”
Kennard laughs. “And who’s leading this? You?”
The smile on The Professor’s face runs down to nothing in the space of a second. He stares at Kennard with a menace I wouldn’t have thought he was capable. The overly talkative and friendly side slides to his feet like old skin. He leans forward and grips the back of the chair in front of him with both hands. “Yes.”
Kennard chuckles without a sound and folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I kind of figured. I’m just not getting the ‘you and who’s army’ part of the equation.”
“You’ve all had the vaccine, yes? You are all now immune to the effects of the deadly spores that are now guaranteed to reappear in a few short months, yes?”
A few nod, most remain quiet. Kennard shrugs. “So?”
“Who brought this wonderful one-shot-cures-all miracle formula into existence? I did.” The Professor points at his chest with his thumb.
“And we’re all very grateful,” Kennard tosses back condescendingly. “But just because you’ve figured that part out, doesn’t mean you’re qualified to run things.”
A murmur of agreement hums through the crowd. The smile returns to The Professor. “Ah, but you see there? I think it does. I think we’ve tried other types of world leaders and it’s all ended up with the same miserable result. We’ve had generals and actors and rich people. We’ve had charismatic leaders, we’ve had insane dictators. But we haven’t had too many men of science lead the way, have we? I can’t think of any actually. So it’s past high time that we started to approach this world in a logical sense. And I think it will indeed start with me, sir.”
One of the Russians, the shortest of the three, steps into the center of the tent. He stands with his hands on his hips and speaks loudly and clearly. “Russia will remain Russia. We have survived as we have always survived. Great numbers of Russians remain alive and well and we will not submit to any new leadership. We have military superiority. Both in conventional and nuclear capability. We will take what we want, when we want.”
The Professor claps his hands. From his sleeve a small black stick appears with a white tip. “Yes!” He points at the Russian with the wand. “This is exactly the type of old school thinking that we’re going to have to leave behind, gentlemen. And let me explain to you how it is all magically going to disappear.” He waves the stick around in circles over his head.
The Russian turns as if to go. “I have heard enough. We will be leaving.”
The Professor holds up his hands, much as they were at the beginning. The wand stands as an odd extra digit between his index and middle finger. “You’ve had the vaccine, yes?”
The Russian nods. “Yes.”
“You’re immune to the effects of the contagion now, yes?”
The Russian answers again. “Yes.”
“But do you understand how mutable the spores are?” The Professor shakes his head. “No. Do you understand that with just the slightest of alterations in the genetic makeup of the spores, they can be shifted into something far more terrible? Again, no. You don’t.”
The Russian looks confused. It becomes very quiet in the tent. The Professor walks a few steps out from where he is standing. I can see it gives him a clear line of sight on the Russian. “You see, I used to work for a company that did all sorts of genetic modifications on food. A very big company. A very big and unpopular company. I opted to work for them as a means of providing a voice of sanity from within, as voices from without are often disregarded. But that point is all but moot now. The point I’m trying to make, which is, the whole reason I came to be standing here and now, is that I’m very good with this sort of thing. And I’ve been very, very busy.”
The movement is so fast and unexpected that no one really clocks it. The white tip of the wand snaps to his lips and with a short huff, a small dart finds its way into the Russian’s cheekbone. He swats it out of the fleshy dimple with the side of his hand then angrily picks it up to look at it. He opens his mouth to say something as he reaches for his pistol but the shutdown hits him like a sack of hammers. The toxin from the dart folds him into a seizing, frothing mess almost instantly. He hits the ground hard with his feet scraping circles into the dirt. His fingers cramp into claws and the spasms look like they could break his back. The others in the room push back away from him as the contagion rips through his nervous system. Just beyond a minute, the Russian is gone and only a howling Zed shell remains.
The .45 bucks once. The slug splits the top of his head from just below where the dart went in. The white skin, black blood and red tent canvas give the whole act a less than clownish effect.
The Professor produces a small metal detonator button out of his pocket and holds it up for all to see. “My mutation will make the first Zed wave look like the common cold in comparison. The spores are loaded into various launching mechanisms placed in and around this tent. So it’s a very simple choice, my friends. You’re either with me or… well, you’re just kind of not.”
He raises his hands again with the small button held clenched in his fist. His voice drops down again and the mirth behind his smile is unmistakable. “Can yoouuuuu dig it?”
Zedtopia Chapter 49: Vacation Plans
“You’re not going.” She rocks the critter in her arm. He watches me from his safely swinging perch. “You’ve got responsibilities. You can let those without family go fight in… whatever in the hell this is. I didn’t come this far, through all of this shit to end up a single mother in a world gone completely batshit.”
Drop a box of shells into my backpack. Some full metal jacket .45’s. Something that’ll tear through and keep going. Check the cleaver over. Spine’s gone rusty while it was in storage with The Professor. Have to give it a coat of oil. Put it to the side next to the cardboard sheath. Karen picks it up and flings it across the room. “Easy now. Those are hard to come by.”
“You’re not listening. You. Are not going.”
She makes to storm out of the room but I catch her by the arm. She could tear right out of my grip but she stops. She knows I’m going. She just needs to believe I’m coming back. “I’d rather stay home, be left alone. But that’s not how it’s going to work. At least not yet. But until we get shit settled down, get some kind of stability, there’s things that need doing. I know I’ve been gone a lot lately. I know things have been hard. And by the looks of it, they could get even harder. But if we want any sort of world for the little guy, well… I need to tend to some business.”
“You just don’t want to be here. Or you would be.”
There’s some venom to it. More than I figured. “Sit down.” Nod towards the couch in the living room. She doesn’t move. “Please.”
She sits down and parks the critter next to her. She gives him some kind of rubber doll thing and he just goes to town on it. All teeth and fingernails. Good look’n kid. Like his mama.
Look around the place. I can see through the doorway into the kitchen. Notice something I haven’t seen in a long time. Little round hole in the trim around the doorway. Nice neat .45 hole. I was carrying full metal jackets that day. Back when all this shit kicked off and I came home to find people sitting in my house.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you two behind.” Her face is getting redder. Her jaw is set and her eyes are going wet. “So maybe you two better come with me. I don’t like the idea of leaving you here. It’s a long trip but at least we’d be together. If there’s nothing left when we get back, we go somewhere else. Hell, I don’t know.”
She doesn’t say anything but I can see it in her face. She’s trying not to smile but there it is anyway. She’s a helluva lot prettier when she’s happy. She snaps up a piece of paper and a pen off the coffee table. “We’ll need our own RV. I’m not traveling in that damn bus anymore. Nothing too big. We don’t want some big open rolling target with no get up and go. Hell, maybe just a four wheel drive truck with a camper top over the bed. We don’t need much room. But if things get tough, we might need to go off road.”
She puts together a list of things and shoves me out the door. Right before she turns to pack, she wraps both arms around me and I get a long wet kiss. It seems like it’s been forever. Her tongue finds mine and I start to push my way back in the house. She stops me with a laugh. “There’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re camping on the road.”
“So it’s a vacation then?”
“You never take me anywhere.” She laughs again and hands me my rifle. The door shuts and she’s gone to pack. Stroll down the path out of the house and get ready to head into town. “Four-wheel drive, camper top, dual tanks… she’s been thinking about this long before I suggested it, that’s for sure.”
Look over across the pasture. I can see Kevin is pulling out of his driveway. I wave over at him and he pulls out onto the dirt road and heads towards me. The dust from his approach almost hides the fog of weed in the cab. He rolls to a stop and hangs his arm out the window. “Hey.”
“Where you headed?”
He lights up a small roach in his big hand and shakes his head. “Goin shop’n man. Told Betty I was goin off on this crusade with, whatever his name is, and she just wasn’t have’n it. So I reckon we’re all going.”
“Your idea or hers?”
He answers through held breath. “Hers. I think. I never can tell anymore.”
Look back towards the house. “They musta been talking then. We might as well go by Tyler and Constance’s place. I don’t imagine he’ll want to go at all but he might if he figures they’re the only two left back here.”
