Machines of the Dead (4 page)

“First, I don’t need a gun, but thanks. Second, no one knows what’s really going on. I bet all cabs are being used by the sick too, turning them into Petri dishes of disease, or whatever it is that’s going around.” He shook his head. “Sorry
,
man.”

“You know me and you know Jess. We’ve been friends for what, a couple of years now? I’m asking as a friend
to
please help me with her.”

“I’ll come to your apartment. If she’s really sick, and I mean bad off, I’ll help you get her into the cab, but that’s it.”

“Good enough.”

Together, they left Zaun’s apartment, Zaun locking all three locks
,
even though he
only
lived a few doors down from Jack. The life-long martial artist took his sword with him, telling Jack, “
You
never know, man.”

Standing in the Warren’s apartment, just outside the door to the bedroom, Zaun said, “What’s that noise?”

“It’s Jess.”

“Sounds like a dog scratching at a door,” Zaun said, almost laughing. Then his face went slack. “Why is she scratching at the door?”

“I told you, she’s sick.”

“And you locked her in the bedroom? What the hell’s going on here, Jack?”

“Nothing, she’s not in her right mind. The door’s not even locked; she can’t even open it.”

“Oh
,
my God, she really is sick. Let’s call that cab and . . .” he trailed off, appearing deep in thought. “Wait a minute, exactly how sick is she, Jack?”

“Listen, I was going to tell you—”

“No, no, no,” Zaun shouted, backing away. “She’s got what’s going around, doesn’t she?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know for sure, but maybe.” Then
,
“Yes.”

“She was
bitten
by that guy on the news? The guy that went around assaulting people, wasn’t she?”

Jack closed his eyes and nodded.

“Oh, man,” Zaun said, his voice cracking.

Jack opened his eyes and saw Zaun looking at him
.
The
man’s stare was focused on the area between Jack’s right shoulder and neck, the place where Jess had bitten him. With eyes wide, mouth open, Zaun said, “she bit you. You’re infected.”

“Zaun, I’m sorry,” Jack said, reaching out.

Zaun backed away, and in the blink of an eye, had sliced his sword through the air. Jack watched as four of his fingers came off
,
thumb untouched
,
like diced carrots on some crazy cooking show, flying in the air. Blood spurted like mini-geysers from the stumps as the digits landed on the floor. Jack screamed.

“Shit, Jack,” Zaun yelled, “I’m so sorry, man.” Zaun went to grab a towel from the bathroom when the apartment’s front door burst open. Four men and a woman, dressed in black military fatigues, came through the doorway,
all of them
holding handguns.

Jack was in pain and going into shock, but seeing the men shook him from his state. He watched as Zaun raised his
blood-splattered
sword to attack the intruders. One of the gun-wielding men pointed the weapon at Zaun and fired. There was no bullet sound, only a “pop” and then two darts attached to wires leading from Zaun’s chest to the weapon. Jack knew immediately it was a
Taser
. The sword fell from Zaun’s hand as his body convulsed. A second later, the martial artist was on the ground, shaking.

Cradling his hand, Jack asked, “What do you want?” He felt the warm blood dripping over his other hand, like freshly heated maple syrup.

“Where’s your wife, Mr. Warren?” one of the men asked. He was a huge fellow, with dark hair, graying at the sides, and a scar splitting his right eyebrow.

Jack didn’t know if the men were here to kill or capture, but from seeing the
Tasers
in their mitts, he assumed they were here to capture. They could’ve easily killed Zaun, but didn’t.

“In the bedroom,” he said. “She’s—”

“Sick,” the man finished for him. “We know.” Speaking to the man next to him, he said, “put this fucker to sleep.”

“Sleep, sir, not tasered?” the man asked, seeming confused.

“Yes, sleep. He’s been bit
ten
. The doc will want to take a look at him.”

“Wait,” Jack said, holding out his good hand. “I’ll cooperate. Do whatever you guys want. Please, just save my wife.”

“I think it’s too late for that
,
Mr. Warren, but we’ll see what we can do about you.”

Jack felt a pinch on his neck, and then the world went dark.

Chapter 4

Jack awoke in a wheelchair, his ankles and wrists bound to the metal contraption. He was in a small, dorm-like room
, with walls that were
painted a light gray. A simple twin bed with a blanket rested in a corner. On the other side of the room
were
an empty desk and a chair. Other than his head being a little foggy, he felt fine. Then he remembered: his sick wife
,
the men in black
, and
the loss of his fingers. He looked down at his hand. All four digits were present and accounted for. He flexed them to make sure they were real. What the hell was going on? Had he dreamt the whole thing?

“Hello?” he called out. “Anyone there?”

“I see you are awake, Mr. Warren,” a voice said, sounding as if it had come from somewhere to Jack’s left. He quickly spotted
that
the sound was coming from a small box
protruding
from the wall near the room’s door. Jack scanned the rest of the room, looking at the empty walls, and along the ceiling. It was there he spotted the small camera, its red lens a dead giveaway.

“Where’s my wife?” he asked, struggling uselessly against his bonds. Seeing his hand again, he stared at it. There were no scars or sutures
to indicate the reattachment of his
digits.
Even
if he had found some indication of a surgical procedure, there was no way
he would
have use of the hand. It would take time to heal, if such a thing were possible. He shook his head and closed his eyes. He had to be dreaming.

“You’re not dreaming, Mr. Warren,” the voice said, as if reading his mind. “Your precious fingers are back.”

Jack continued to shake his head. He was dreaming. This was all some kind of nightmare; his sick wife, the city in a crisis, and his sitting tied to a wheelchair. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. He opened his eyes, feeling none the better
,
because he wasn’t dreaming, and no matter how many times he told himself he was, he knew he wasn’t.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

A sound, like metal sliding over metal, came from the door. A moment later
,
it swung inward and a small man, dressed in a white lab coat, followed by a large man dressed in black fatigues and wearing a
Taser
on his belt, entered the room. Jack recognized the man in black from his apartment.

“You here to let me out of this thing?” Jack asked.

“All of your questions will be answered shortly, Mr. Warren,” the small man said.

“Good
,
where’s my wife?”

The small man walked out of the room as the man in black came around behind Jack, took hold of the wheelchair, and pushed him out of the room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’re lucky to be here with us, Mr. Warren,” the small man said. “Sit tight and the doctor will answer all
of
your questions.”

“Please, just tell me where my wife is.”

“You’ll see her shortly.”

Jack was wheeled down the hall to an elevator. From there
,
he and the others traveled down three flights to another hallway, which ended at a set of double doors. A man and a woman, wearing black fatigues, each carrying an M4 machine gun and holstering a sidearm and
Taser
, stood to either side of the doors.

The small man used his keycard and the doors parted. 

Jack was wheeled into a large room. Bookshelf-sized electronic equipment took up the entire rear wall, while a number of computer stations occupied most of the floor space. A large plate glass window, about six feet tall and twenty feet wide, occupied the wall space to Jack’s left. Looking at it, he could see nothing but darkness.

Finally, Jack was parked at the side of one of the computer terminals. He turned his head around and saw the guard walk off to the back of the room. Not a moment later, a tall man with a full head of salt and pepper colored hair came over to him.

“Hello, Mr. Warren,” the man said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I know you have a lot of questions and I’ll be happy to answer them as best I can.”

“Where’s my wife?”

“I figured that would be your first question.” The man walked behind Jack
and
reposition
ed
his chair so that he faced
a
large window. “I want you to know, Mr. Warren, that you are being restrained for our protection
, as well as yours
.”

“Great, I feel better. Now tell me where my wife is.”

“We’ll get to that soon.”

“Look, Mister . . .?”

“Doctor,
”
the man said, correcting him. “My name is D
r.
Reynolds.”

Through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm an
d submissive, Jack said, “Dr.
Reynolds, I have no idea where I am or what’s going on. I just want to know where my wife is.”

“I know,” the doctor said, and Jack couldn’t tell if the man was looking upon him with pity or contempt, “but I need you to understand what has happened. Your world has changed and in more ways than one.”

Jack met the man’s eyes. “I don’t give a shit about anything right now. Fuck the world and fuck you. I just want to see my wife.”

“As you wish,” the man said, then turned toward his computer monitor. Jack watched as the man bent over and began hitting keys on the keyboard. Bright light erupted from the large plate-glass window and Jack could see into another room. 

A woman was standing
hunched over
in the center of the room
with her
long hair hiding her face. She had on a tattered white gown with a red floral pattern on the front. Upon closer examination, Jack noticed that the pattern wasn’t of flowers, but something else. A door opened at the back of the room and a guard entered. He had on a puffy suit of armor, like something a dog trainer would wear. Shutting the door, the guard stood still, facing the individual in the center of the room.

The woman seemed to jump into gear. She turned toward the figure, raised her head and began to walk forward. Her arms were outstretched, and she walked stiff-legged, as if she’d had too much alcohol to drink.

Jack was captivated, unable to look away or speak. He was glad the woman’s back was to him
, because
for some reason
,
he didn’t want to see her face.

When the woman drew close, Puffy Suit held out his forearm, just like a dog trainer does with an attacking canine. The woman grabbed the man’s arm and began viciously gnawing at it
,
as if
it was a juicy chicken leg. A chill ran down Jack’s spine.

“What are you thinking, Mr. Warren?” D
r.
Reynolds asked.

Jack swallowed. The woman in the other room was acting
as
his wife had acted. Whatever had infected Jess had infected this woman too. He needed to see Jess; to make sure she was okay.

“I think it’s awful what that lady is going through. She’s obviously very sick and needs help. Why are you showing this to me?”

“Because you need to see it with your own eyes.”

“Well
,
I’ve seen enough,” Jack demanded, turning away from the window. A dreadful sensation, like knowing someone only had moments left to live, fell over him. “I want to see my wife
,
now.”

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Warren, but your wife is dead.”

“Bullshit. She’s alive. I was just with her in our
apartment a
few hours ago.”

Doctor Reynolds reached out and grabbed a microphone that was sitting on his desk. He pressed a button on his keyboard and said, “Bring it to the window.”

“What are you doing? I said I’ve seen enough.”

Puffy Suit shoved the woman away and jogged over to the glass, then faced in the direction of the woman.

“What day is it, Mr. Warren?”

Jack had to think for moment
.
“Saturday.”