Running With The Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters (24 page)

I thought it would be in bad taste for me to point out that was actually four questions so I jumped right into my spiel. “My name is George. I was with a small group of survivors. Unfortunately, they didn’t make it to the tunnels with me. We were on the run from the people that control the city. We got split up. I was being chased by, uh, some zombies. I had no choice but to continue into the tunnels without my people.”

              My statement was meant with stony silence and I could tell they didn’t believe me. Even worse, there was a good deal of hatred in the eyes that stared back at me. If they weren’t starving and sick, I do believe they would have rushed me regardless of my guns.

             
Finally, Richard broke the uncomfortable silence, “Mister, if you were really on the other side of the river, why in the hell would you come over here?” he said.

              “It’s kind of a long story, Richard. Can I call you that?” I asked.

It was a long story, after the first few minutes I started summarizing and of course I left out some key details but by the end of my tale I could see the faintest glimmer of hope on the faces of the wretched people in front of me, even Wendy’s face. I didn’t know if they would help me on my quest but I knew I wouldn’t have to kill any of them. At least not for the time being.

“Okay, George. We’re gonna call a ceasefire for now but we need to get to a safer place. They know we’re down here,” Richard explained. “We need to be as quiet as possible. There is constant fighting going on up there but they still send patrols down here on occasion. We lose a few more people each time. Eventually, if we don’t starve to death first, they will get us all. They will have heard your gun so we need to be out of this area as soon as possible”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Richard,” I said.

The Past

Mary Tyson was one of the first in line at the Handy’s Drug Store on the corner of Main Street and 5
th
Avenue. She did all her errands there because it was close to her house which was located just outside of Humble, Texas. She stood behind two other ladies around her same age waiting by the door for the store to open. She kept wringing her hands, acid gurgling in her belly as she waited. The other two patrons did not seem nervous, just overly chatty. But they had to be nervous. This new flu bug sounded terrifying.

It was during her favorite morning news program that she first heard of the new strain of flu. The CDC apparently didn’t even have a catchy name for it yet and were just calling it the Sickness. It was currently rampaging through several African countries as well as some places in Eastern Europe. Soon it would breach the shores of the United States. It was highly contagious, severely painful and deadly for the very young, the elderly and those with compromised immune systems. People were advised not to panic because there was a vaccine. If a person received the inoculation as soon as possible the risks of contracting the virus went down considerably. Mary was older but not elderly and she was in good health because she always took care of herself. But she had Marv to worry about and he was another story.

Marv was why she stood in line enduring the hot Texas sun while the annoyed clerk unlocked the door from the inside to let in the two ladies, Mary and a small but growing group of worried citizens. All of them were looking to be inoculated with the vaccine on the first day it was offered to the public. Marv was sickly and struggling though a long battle with emphysema. All it took was a wink and a wave for her husband of 30 years to get sick these days. A bad sickness could kill him. Mary would be damned before she brought a virus home that would doom her dear Marv. She had seen the grisly photos of the bodies from overseas. They had been awful.

The ladies that had been in front of her at the door took a more circuitous route back to the pharmacy while Mary made a beeline directly for it. Although there was no official record as the recipients of the vaccine were not recorded at Handy’s or anywhere else, Mary Tyson became the first person in the world to contract the Simon Virus via direct injection.  Albeit the time distinction was quite small. There were many thousands of people just like Mary all around the United States each anxiously volunteering to safeguard themselves from the cleverly orchestrated new strain of flu. Aside from a few lucky naturally immune people, everyone was getting a death sentence courtesy of Project Simon.

It would be several days before she started showing symptoms but during that time she would manage to infect her daughter Lisa down in Houston, her postman, her good friend Gladys and, of course, dear old Marv.

Gladys would inadvertently infect most of the members of the First Community Church of Pearland as well as much of the country of Haiti due to a poorly timed missionary trip and her propensity to skip the hand-washing phase of her regular restroom visits.

As it went with Mary and Gladys so it would go across the country and the rest of the world. Those receiving the Simon Virus injections in turn infected many of those who didn’t.

Meanwhile the Syndicate was none the wiser having no idea what Dick and Todd had done. As far as they knew their plan to control the masses and rule the world was right on track. To their own detriment they simply assumed Dick had run to avoid being punished for allowing Andrew to get a message out to his stepdad. So they saw no need for any type of damage control. Hence there was no reason to modify rollout plans. Each phase of Project Simon had been meticulously planned out. The Syndicate had powerful members in nearly every government across the globe including those parts of government responsible for disaster response and mitigation.

In the beginning there had been time to quarantine those cities, ground air travel and freeze mass transit, but no one in authority was allowed to do their jobs. Initially, the Syndicate and the people under their control believed reports of a mysterious sickness from points all over the globe was just further media controlled hype to encourage the sheep in the pilot cities to get the vaccine. Before anyone with real authority realized the pilot phase for Project Simon had gone terribly wrong it was too late to do anything other than issue the following advice; gather food and supplies, hunker down and stay inside.

…

The world was still in the honeymoon phase of the Sickness while Bill and Derek were running around trying to figure out what the hell had happened to Chip Fielding and his long-missing stepson, Andrew Penrod. To say it was a frustrating snipe hunt was a massive understatement. They were getting nowhere in their investigation. Meanwhile the world around them was starting to crack under the pressure of the brewing storm everyone thought was a new strain of the flu.

The outbreak hit the United States like a tidal wave. Somehow it moved from a few isolated pockets to an epidemic almost overnight. It was getting bad. In spite of nationwide efforts to inoculate people many were falling ill, becoming delirious and ultimately comatose. The worst part was that nobody seemed to be recovering just clinging to life in a coma.

              All of this Bill and Derrick learned from constantly monitoring the news channels. The pundits argued about failing mitigation efforts. Social media was ablaze with doomsday click bait and apocryphal predictions. People everywhere were losing their collective minds, hoarding supplies and jamming up social services. It was only a matter of time before the rioting and looting would start with a vengeance. They fiercely debated if this mysterious sickness was the Syndicate’s plan beginning to manifest or just a terrible coincidence. Either way they needed to find answers soon.

Bill imagined if he tried real hard he would be able to smell the smoke from all the bridges they had burned over the last week and a half. Some of his colleagues actually giggled at him before they hung up the phone while others had slammed doors in their faces and threatened to have them both institutionalized if they made further contact. One guy, whom Bill had thought of as a friend actually phoned Derrick after they’d left his office and advised him to have Bill see a doctor because he was clearly demonstrating all the telltale signs of dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. That one had actually gotten to him. He wasn’t that fucking old. Derrick, however, had thoroughly enjoyed the moment.

The only thing that had kept them going was the fact they were being watched. Their shadows were careful but Bill and Derrick spotted them as soon as the rust was shaken off. Whoever they were, they were a team and they were highly trained and sophisticated using a variety of hand offs. They pretty much had them surrounded in one form or another whenever they went anywhere in the city. The only question was why they hadn’t tried to take them out yet.

“So you think they’re holding off until they know the full extent of how much damage we can do?” Bill asked. They were back in Bill’s office drinking strong coffee. Nancy had been given some time off. Mostly to ensure her safety but also to keep her out of the way. She hadn’t argued.

Before Derrick could answer Bill’s phone chirped on the desk. Derrick muted the television while Bill answered the call. It was the FBI. He listened in silence for about a minute before hanging up. Their immediate presence was required to answer questions about what they knew. Bill glanced over at Derrick who was getting into is sport coat. He knew the drill without even having to ask who had called.

“So where are we supposed to go?” asked Derrick.

“Up to the Federal building but we need to leave now. They sounded pretty jumpy on the phone,” said Bill.

“Are we walking or driving?” asked Derrick as he navigated his large frame through the doorway.

“We’ll take the skyway. We need to get our stories straight about what we know.”

The doors opened and both men entered the elevator. “But we don’t know anything,” Derrick said.

“You and I know that but I’m guessing the feds know even less than we do which means we are the only thing on their radar. I would be surprised if we didn’t have quite the welcoming party waiting for us at the Federal building.” Bill replied.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the control panel indicated they had arrived at the skyway level. The doors opened and Bill received his surprise early. Six burly, serious-looking men in suits stood just outside the elevator door waiting for them.  A smaller man with a pot belly and a comb over pushed through the men and flashed a badge at them too quickly for anyone to read. “Special Agent Warren Wendell with the FBI. Are you two gentlemen William McCloud and Derrick Lewis?” Neither man responded prompting Wendel to ask, “Are we gonna have a problem, gentlemen?”

Bill glanced at Derrick who was eyeballing the six larger agents with something akin to hunger in his eyes. “Yes, Agent Wendell, I am William McCloud and this is Derrick Lewis,” Bill said. He took a half step forward placing himself between Derrick and the agents before adding, “And no, there will be no problem.”

“Good,” Agent Wendell said. The relief evident on his face. “Then you both need to come with us to answer a few questions.” They all crowded into the elevator and rode it to the ground floor. The men formed a semi-circle around Bill and Derrick as they moved from the lobby of the building toward a black cargo van idling on 7
th
street in front of the entrance to the hotel. As they walked through the crowd of curious onlookers, Bill heard Derrick grunt but he didn’t take the bait. He knew Derrick would be giving him a dirty look. When they were all outside another two agents piled out of the van and had them completely surrounded.

“Safe to assume this is our ride?” Bill asked, turning to look at Agent Wendell. Instead he found himself staring down the barrels of four guns.

“Sorry to do this to you, gentlemen, but we need to take every precaution. Cuff ’m and stuff ’m boys and be quick about it before we gather an audience,” Wendell said.

Derrick cleared his throat and Bill just shook his head. Soon they were both in cuffs and leg irons and stuffed into one of the seats of the van which Bill realized was actually a prisoner transport vehicle. “Isn’t this a bit much, Agent Wendell? I told you we wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Can’t be too careful, Mr. McCloud, you understand, right?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Bill replied.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Wendell said as the van sped away from the curb.

The cargo area of the van was crowded with so many guards. It really seemed like overkill for a retiree and his sole employee, though Derrick did cast an imposing figure. Bill wondered if he shouldn’t have just let Derrick handle it. But then they might miss their opportunity to learn something vital about what happened to Andrew Penrod.

A barely audible groan hit Bill’s ears from over his shoulder. He turned to see they were not the only prisoners being transported. A bloodied and barely conscious Nolan Shipman sat pinioned between two guards on the rearmost seat. “I told you to leave this alone, Bill,” Shipman croaked.

Bill chuckled, “Chip didn’t leave us too much choice in the matter did he, Nolan?”

“Shut the fuck up, old man,” the guard next to Bill whispered into his ear. He followed that with a sharp jab to the ribs that left Bill temporarily unable to breathe.

“Hey, shithead,” Derrick said in an eerily calm tone from the adjacent seat. There was no doubt to whom he was talking and the guard seemed to pale visibly under Derricks stare. “You just made a stupid mistake. Time will come when I’m not in these cuffs and I will see you are properly educated.” The rest of the trip was made in silence; Derrick had that effect on people

…

“So walk us through it one more time,” Agent Wendell said from across the metal table.

Bill made a bit of a show loosening his tie and taking a sip of warm water from a tiny Styrofoam cup. “Listen, Agent,” he started, “We’ve been through it a dozen times already. There is nothing further I can tell you and it seems to me you are wasting a lot of time.”

“I think you know something you aren’t telling us. Something important,” Agent Morris growled from where he stood leaning against the cement wall in the corner of the small room.

Bill eyeballed the small blinking light from the ceiling camera and wondered who else was watching. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like the current location of Andrew Penrod and the others who escaped Area 51,” Wendell said.

Bill chuckled and slid a little lower in his hard metal chair. The handcuff on his right hand pinched him painfully. He’d already spent most of the morning and part of the afternoon being badgered by Agent Wendell and Agent Morris.

“You think this is funny, McCloud?” Wendell said.

“You said escaped. That was an interesting choice of words, like Andrew was a prisoner.”

“Figure of speech,” Wendell mumbled.

Bill sighed, “Look, if I knew where he was then why would I have been calling everyone in my little black book looking for him?” Bill asked.

“Fair enough,” Wendell said, “But it could be you have information you aren’t even aware you have. Tell me, how did you come to know Andrew Penrod?”

“I told you I don’t
know
him! I only met him a handful of times when he was a kid.”