The Zombie Letters (8 page)

              “Mitochondrial biogenesis.”

              “I’m not a scientist, but I’ve heard this shtick before, gentlemen. Mitochondrial biogenesis is impossible. In-vitro studies have fallen flat on their faces. What you’re talking about is science fiction,” the doctor said. “There is nothing on earth that can decode mRNA strands enough to alter mitochondrial behavior. It was rumored that some wildlife may have existed millions of years ago that could . . . but evolution has wiped it out. So, if that’s going to be your explanation, you can skip it. Either way; you want mitochondrial biogenesis? Get yourself a time machine. Even with that in mind, it’s just a theory. A flimsy one at that.”

              “How’s your theory holding up?” Samantha said as she walked into the room. She was still extremely skinny, but her eyes were bright and vivid. I hooked her up with some breast prosthetics she could wear under her clothes. You know . . . to tell you the truth, she actually looked pretty sexy with a shaved head. Kind of reminded me of Sigourney Weaver.

              “Not well, I guess!” her doctor said with a nervous laugh.

              “Come with us,” Samantha said with a reassuring voice that made her a great mother. “We will also credit you for this discovery. Take all this . . . including Brian, Brucie and me to our superiors. Our area was funded by the Pentagon. Nathaniel and Darin will head there tomorrow and will more than likely be detained the second the military hears about this. Help us prove to them that it
does
work. They can’t shut us down if they are faced with this.”

              “Yes they
can,
” the doctor said.

              “Not if we threaten to release our records to the media. All of our research, all copies are in the hands of a pal of mine that will expose all of this. The cure for human illness. They’ll have no other option.”

              “You mean blackmail the fucking Pentagon?” Salyers said; his voice going up nearly an octave.

              “There is no blackmail. It’s the government. They already know,” Nathaniel said. “We were fired, remember? They know. See any white vans out front lately, Doctor Benjamin Salyers? I see ‘em all the time, Ben.” Nate walked to the door and held it open as Sami and I left the office. Nathaniel tossed Doctor Salyers his set of car keys that were on a small hook in the corner of the room. “Lets go.”

              “Where we goin’?”

              Nathaniel smiled. “To turn me in.”

III

              We didn’t even make it to the parking lot. After a pretty uneventful flight, we were met at the terminal in DC. All your people . . . about fifteen armed soldiers. They stood in a line at the end of the ramp, ready to take us into custody.

              We sat inside a locked conference room for four and a half hours. Brian was picked up back at the lab and was already in the locked room when we arrived. Shit . . . they even had Brucie. He was in the corner of the room, sleeping on a bed someone made for him out of those large white hotel towels. Doctor Ben Salyers and Samantha left with armed military personnel to talk with the ones that used to sign our grant checks. Brucie, Brian, Nathaniel and I spent what felt like an eternity in that room. Just waiting for them. I knew the military oversight committee in charge of Locke wasn’t happy with us. For awhile, I thought that Samantha and her doctor were dead. They must have known we weren’t bluffing about the revealing all the research information to the press . . . because I called Alexander Henry at NBC in New York one hour before the plane landed. By the time we touched down, we were already famous. Trust me when I say that I sent him enough material from the lab to convince him. I wonder if we would have been silenced if I hadn’t done that. Needless to say, as pissed as I knew they were, your officers were all smiles when they walked back in to release us. The grant money was restored, a new lab given to us right there in Washington DC and a new staff of twenty-two people to work under us. We were back in business.

              So . . . when did
it
happen? Well, we weren’t there long when things turned. I don’t like talking about it. I gave your people Brian and Samantha’s medical records from the lab. They should explain everything. I can’t talk about this. It’s too much for me.

              Too much.

CHAPTER 3

I

              “
S
taff Sergeant Alexander Powers?”

              The young man walked in and extended a salute to the General. The General, a guy named Teel, returned it with a frown on his face. Every officer he’d ever met in this Army frowned. He didn’t take it personally. That’s just how they smiled. Officers only understood the world when it was upside-down. “Yes, sir. That’s me. I had orders to report to you, sir.”

              “Cut the sir shit, Powers. We speak normally around here. Do you know why your orders were to come down here and talk to me?” The General said, standing up as he motioned for Powers to sit down. It was a little office with a desk, a shaded window and a large map of Virginia with random red thumb tacks pushed into them.

              “Okay . . . my apologies, General.”

              Teel leaned down somewhere behind his desk and grabbed a large manila envelope. Stretching his back before he sat back down, he opened the file and began to read it. “Staff Sergeant Alexander Powers . . . three tours in Iraq, short stint in Afghanistan. Took a slug in the thigh on your second. Career-man. Says here that you were up for a discharge, but opted to re-enlist after the Quatar Pass Operation.”

              “I am unaware of any operation by that name, sir.”

              The General shot his head up from the file, giving Powers an ice-cold stare that gave him chills. “I’m reading it right here. Deeply classified incident that resulted in locating a secret facility outside of Quatar, Afghanistan. Thirteen crates of a highly top-secret material was shipped to one of our bases back here in the states. I know some fucking Commanders that don’t have clearance to go into the area where those materials are housed. Want to tell me about it?”

              “I don’t know about anything named Operation Quatar Pass, sir. If such an operation existed, I believe the operation’s CO, my direct superior, would be the one to call. If . . . such a thing existed.”

              “I said cut the
sir
crap.”

              “Sorry, General.”

              Teel continued to stare at a visibly shaken Staff Sergeant who was trying to keep it cool. He was actually doing a great job. To anyone other than Teel, he would have fooled any officer into thinking that he wasn’t scared shitless. He lowered his head and read the file some more, thumbing through pages that had been heavily marked over. “A lot of men out in that area on the night of August 15
th
, 2006 reported seeing some odd things at night. I can’t see through black marker Xeroxed on these shitty machines. Elaborate on it, son. I’d like to know how the hell some pissant Staff Sergeant from Tulsa, Oklahoma, just a regular grunt, manages to gain a security level A clearance and stand in line with four full Colonels outside of a classified debriefing room in Washington. Operation Quatar Pass. Elaborate. That’s an order.”

              “I am unaware of such an operation by that name, General,” Powers repeated with the exact same tone.

              Teel closed the file and leaned back in his chair, lighting up a cigarette. An unmarked officer walked inside. The General saluted
him
. The man simply stood right in the door, dressed in civilian clothes. Powers knew he was an officer. The man had a Special Forces tattoo on his lower arm that the high-ranking CO’s got during Desert Storm. Lots of top secret shit went down there. Alexander’s dad always talked about the shit that was behind the filed papers during that conflict. Especially the tattoos. The General looked at the man in the doorway. He shot a glance to Powers, then turned his head to the man at the door. Teel nodded and pointed his cigarette at Powers with the slightest of actual smiles. The man at the door simply walked out, shutting it behind him. Alexander could hear him whistling down the hallway. “As you know now, Powers . . . this place was not easy to find. Sort of an unconventional place for a base, isn’t it?”

              “These are unconventional times, General. After everything that’s happened with this outbreak, I understand the need for places like this.”

              “I read in your file that you are a diesel mechanic on top of everything else. And a damn good one at that. You will be stationed here starting immediately. All of your personal effects were moved into this facility last night before you arrived. I would insist on having a man like you. Regardless of his rank, you were always one that always realized the big picture, even when it required methods of operation that others may see as . . .
unethical
.”

              “Thank you, si . . . uhhh . . . General,” Powers stammered. “Thank you for this opportunity. I appreciate it.”

              “Dismissed, Powers. Anything else you wanna say before you’re briefed by the staff here?”

              “Anything, General?” Powers asked.

              “Yeah. This is an informal meeting, son.”

              “This place is amazing. If only my father could have seen this. He always had so many stories . . . most of which passed down by people who knew someone who knew someone who was into some shit. You know how it goes. He was always so fascinated by things that weren’t on the books. In a childish sort of way, I suppose I am too. Impressive . . . never seen one of these underground bunkers before. These places are so classified, you have to practically be the one
holding
the big, black marker to know about them.”

              Teel leaned toward the Staff Sergeant and offered him a cigarette. “What bunker?”

              Powers smiled and took the smoke. “Understood, General. Understood.”

              “Hey Powers,” Teel said as the Staff Sergeant was halfway out the door. Powers turned around and raised his eyebrows to him.

              “Yes?”

              “You passed my little test. Just between us now. Quatar Pass. What did you really see out there? The stories I’ve heard . . . unbelievable. Is it true?”

              Alexander slowly closed the door in front of him. Giving the General another smile, along with the most subtle of winks, he spoke through the small crack in the doorway. “Is
what
true?”

II

NATHANIEL WINTERS EMAIL

SECURITY CLEARANCE ‘A’ ONLY

CLASSIFIED

---------------------

            
 
To General Morgan Harden

              September 9, 2015.

              This will be the first of my reports on Brian O’Reilly and my wife, Samantha Winters. After seven weeks, the human trial subjects are exhibiting completely normal metabolic function, vital scans and brain activity. A curious side effect - Samantha’s hair is growing at an estimated three times its normal speed. After multi-stage hair samples, it appears to be tapering off. I theorize that her rapid hair growth will return to normal when she reaches the length prior to her sickness. Blood pressure of the two subjects, including diastolic pressure appears normal, if not extremely healthy.

              I am putting in a formal request to volunteer myself for LYNN002. After synthesizing a stronger version, we have achieved maximum resiliency in mitochondrial biogenetic re-growth. If the new formula proves as effective as LYNN001, I am confident we can go to completion within 90 days.

              On a personal note, sir, I have something else to include. Hopefully all previous hard feelings aside, I wish to extend my deepest gratitude for this opportunity. Michael and Emily are enjoying their new schools and the apartment you hooked us up with was very generous of you. That place is exquisite. Just don’t wiretap the bathroom (haha).

-----------------------------------------

-Dr. Nathaniel Winters-

“Without hope, there is no dream!!!!”

LockeII Research Center, Washington DC