Apocalyptic Moon (After the Bane) (11 page)

“I don’t think witches can do that.”

“Too bad.”

“Dora, I sense he’s telling the truth. Let’s hear him out.”

Mansfield turned to her. “Dr. Adler, I apologize for hurting you, but I was driven to find a cure for my daughter.” He bowed his head. “I know. I behaved unprofessionally.”

Dirk snorted. “Not the entire truth, except for his daughter.”

“Treating us like lab rats broke every bioethics protocol and frankly I don’t care what your reasons were.” She turned to Aimes. “Drop your holster or I’ll shoot your boss’s kneecaps and then yours.”

He glanced at Mansfield. “Sir?”

She snapped. “Damn it, just do it.”

Dirk glanced at her and kept a straight face.
“You’re a doctor not a cop, right, Bones?”

“I doubt my aim will even hit the target.”

Aimes unbuckled and dropped it. The holster held the wolfsbane dart gun. Dirk smiled. “Impressive, thanks Doc.” He gave Mansfield a pointed glare. “And the rest?”

Mansfield pressed his lips tight and then slumped in final defeat. “In that metal briefcase on the table next to my daughter’s body.”

Dora opened it and turned to Dirk. “What should we do with it?”

“Dump the vials and the syringes from the dart gun down the sink.”

She poured them out then ran the water. “Done.” She lifted the blanket from the ten-year-old girl’s gray body. She was hooked up to an IV with what must be her blood serum. A bullet hole through her temple had been his only alternative. “I’m sorry. I really wished the serum had worked.”

Instead of showing grief, his voice turned cold, “It slowed it, but then she became more ravenous. I scanned her brain. It was like the ones I showed you earlier.”

She nodded and looked at her chart. “Damage to cerebral cortex, hippocampus, cerebellum and the indicative hyperactive amygdala. Must be hunger driven by rage. Even if given a cure, it was too late for your daughter.”

“Can you speak English?” said Dirk.

“ZB. Zombified Brain,” she answered.

Dirk twisted at the drumming moaning crescendo of zombies outside the lab. “How secure are those doors?”

“We’ve programmed an override command that it can only be opened from inside. Not even a stampede of elephants can get through.”

Dirk shot him a doubtful frown. “Why do you suspect a shape shifter released the zombies?”

Mansfield eyed Dora with a pinched expression. “If you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

He winced and turned on the holographic screen of the video cam’s recording. The zombie holding-pen came into view. “This morning, with the time stamp at 2 a.m.”

Dirk moved in closer. “I’ve seen them in this weird sleeping state.” About fifty zombies stood beneath a strong light, with their heads down and their shoulders slumped.

“We’ve discovered that ultraviolet light puts them in a strange resting state or recharging mode. Zombie sleep, but not like the REM kind we need,” said Mansfield.

Dora raised a brow. “Does it keep them sedated?”

Mansfield shook his head. “They move more at night, but even in this state, if they catch the scent of human flesh they’ll go into their ravenous attack mode even at high noon.”

Mansfield and Dora rattled on about their theories dealing with sunlight in their science lingo of long complicated words. Dirk sighed in frustration. “Let’s get to the point. What were you going to show us?”

“Right. Watch.” He fast-forwarded the cam to when the zombies were released and hit play.

Inside the chamber, a shadowy figure wearing a black hood approached the pen, and using a laser-like device, opened the enclosure. The zombies awakened and moved forward. The man had a reptilian scaly face but then shifted into a zombie, with the gray skin tone and dead eyes. Pretending to be a zombie, he shambled toward the sealed outer door and using a thin rod instrument opened the door. The two guards playing cards, twisted around. The released zombies charged and the men opened fire but were overwhelmed.

Mansfield zoomed in on the shifter who backed away. “Watch what he does next.”

The shifter turned into a rat and scurried away.

Chapter 6

Dora turned to Dirk. “A shifter.”

“Not just any shifter, but a Protean,” Dirk stared at the screen in awe.

“Your kind,” said Mansfield accusingly.

“No. Protean shifters are part of our legends, but they don’t exist.” He frowned. “At least they’re not supposed to.”

“Neither do werewolves,” said Mansfield.

Dirk growled. “Trust me. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Dora glanced at the rat frozen in pause mode. “Well whoever or whatever that creature is, it’s determined to destroy us. The question is why?”

Dirk shook his head. “Maybe it’s some alien.”

Mansfield bunched his lips and then sighed. “Could be. Every black ops headquarters has been hit. But the strangest thing, after DEFCON 1 was declared...” He shook his head as if in denial. “All nuclear weapons from every corner of the world disappeared, without a trace. But, it’s worse. Non-nuclear ballistic missiles, drones, and military aircraft vanished last night.”

“Vanished?” Dora asked.

Mansfield snorted. “From our most well guarded bases to all submarines to the dirty little weapons of mass destruction in the hands of third world terrorists.”

Dora’s skin chilled. Were shifters responsible for mankind’s downfall? Maybe invading aliens decided to stop Armageddon by culling humans? To save the earth from destruction? Whether to save the earth or invade it, recycling humans to kill humans was sinister but clever. She met Dirk’s eyes and he shrugged. He seemed just as confused.

Mansfield switched to a camera that faced the facility above. The earlier explosion leveled the outer structure. “The saboteur left.” He pointed as the mysterious scaly man got into a black unmarked vehicle and sped away.

She pressed her lips tight. “He must think we’re just as good as dead.”

Dirk scanned the lab. “I take it you don’t have a back door?”

“There’s a natural tunnel that leads to an outside cave but it’s on level zero, the zombie pen,” said Mansfield. “The stairs to it are outside our door.”

Dirk went into a commando mode. “Pick up your weapons. I’m in charge. Any mutiny and I’ll rip your arms off and leave you to the flesh eaters.” Dirk handed Mansfield a gun and looked at the others. He flashed his ‘Wolverine-like’ fangs and long claws, warning them zombies weren’t the only monsters to fear. “Any questions?”

The men’s eyes darted nervously down to the floor, but all nodded. On the surface, the apocalypse waited. The need to work as a team and survive weighed greater than any past loyalties. Dora suppressed a smile.
“Kind of harsh, but you’re joking of course.”

“Actually, the only reason I’m including them is because Mansfield knows the way out and his men will help keep you safe.”

Dora snapped off the connection, and Dirk gave her a sidelong glance. She didn’t want him to learn just how turned on she was by his over-protectiveness. Her reaction was probably just a primal thing exhibited during great peril.

Mansfield lowered his head, walked up to his daughter and tenderly covered her. He sighed in resignation. “I’m sorry I failed you, Taylor.” No longer the cruel scientist that had tortured her and Dirk. He displayed signs of humanity. A grieving father. Not the man she’d known for the past five weeks. She’d been horrified when they first brought her down to the hellish lab. While they took samples of her blood and other tissue, she’d watched him perform a vivisection on a zombie who looked like he was still in high school. Someone’s beloved son. His manner was cold and calculated as he opened up the boy’s skull. She’d assumed Mansfield had not been a family man.

Dora approached him and gentled her voice. “You did all you could.”

He flinched as if she’d touched him, and his cruel tone returned. “No. I could have flown to Chicago before it was quarantined.” He stared at the wall. I should have taken her with me. But her mother insisted I wait until after her birthday. The following weekend the city was infested.” He clenched his fist. “I still could have done something to get her out then. They finally cleared me to enter quarantined cities but I was too damn busy here. Then she called me after her own mother tried to eat her. She escaped and hid at her best friend’s house. But it was too late. She’d been bitten. I pulled strings to get her out.” He scoffed, “I once had such power. I kept her in that back curtained cell but within days she turned. Her favorite toys, movies, and food meant nothing. When she looked at me, it was with rage and hunger.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we should head toward the East Coast. I have access to Plum Island, a facility which may still be operational.”

Dora raised an eyebrow
. Not on your life. Glad I’ll be heading in the opposite direction
.

Aimes shook his head. “Sir, we lost contact with Plum Island.”

Mansfield gritted his teeth. “Damn.”

“What state are we in?” Dora asked.
Beside the state of insanity, that is
.

“The Southwest, near the Archuelta Mesa. The cave exit is in northern New Mexico.”

“Best we leave soon. Don’t forget your med-pad,” Dora said, referring to his electronic lab journal.

“Of course.” He grabbed it from a lab station and then handed her a memory stick and grinned. “This contains brain scans, anatomy and everything that kills them. Keep it as a gesture of good will.”

“Umm?” Was he sorry? Or simply making
nice
to save his skin? “Thanks.” She tucked it in her pocket.

Mansfield sighed. “Once we get to a safe university lab, we can continue our research.”

He must be delusional to think other labs were still operational. She furrowed her brow. “What research?”

“How to kill zombies, of course.”

This I want to hear.
“Besides decapitation and or shooting them in the brain?”

“Drowning and carbon monoxide works. Subzero temperatures will freeze them, making it easier to chop their heads off. Come spring, they’ll thaw and reanimate in a hungry rage.”

“And fire?” Dora asked.

“That takes time and will not curb their appetite. Imagine a running torch trying to eat you,” said Mansfield.

“Okay folks, let’s get the hell out of here.” Dirk, every inch an alpha, towered over everyone. With his wild red hair, his ripped chest and arm muscles he looked like a berserker as he barked commands. “You two on the left. Mansfield, you and Dora on the right!”

He put his pistol down and began to strip. Dora’s cheeks burned. “Are you going to…you know?”

“Yep, I’m going to turn into the biggest-ass werewolf this side of hell.”

Mansfield blanched. “Are you mad? Do you think we’d rather die by werewolf than by zombie?”

He scoffed. “Don’t worry, I prefer a good steak to human flesh. If I kill you, it’ll be quick. You won’t come back.” He grinned, baring fierce fangs. “Guaranteed.”

Dora reassured him and the nervous soldiers. “He won’t lose his mind, isn’t that right, Dirk?”

“That’s right,” he winked,
“Babe.”
He shot the men a stern look. “Unless, of course, any of you think of betraying us.”

Dirk stood in the center. “As soon as I complete the shift, open the doors and shoot as many as you can. At my roar, clear the way and I’ll finish off the rest.” He glanced at Dora and she opened the telepathic channel. “
You stay behind me and don’t trust him. Only me. And don’t piss me off by getting killed.”

“As long as you don’t piss me off by getting killed yourself.”

He smiled.
“Glad you care. Once I change we’ll continue to communicate telepathically.”
He took a long breath and began to shift. The sounds of bones dislocating and reforming paralyzed her in shock and fear. This was no illusion or special effect. Dirk was a real werewolf. Her heart drummed or was it his that thrashed in her ears? He fell on the tiled floor and roared as his face contorted and elongated, his lips curled, exposing long gleaming fangs. The skin on his back ripped and fur sprung. It carpeted his body as he straightened. His already six foot five frame grew taller. Maybe seven feet. The transformation complete, he was the poster boy for the quintessential werewolf depicted in every horror book and movie ever produced or dreamed. The soldiers gaped in frozen terror. He snarled foaming drool toward the zombie moaning-drone behind the sealed door. Waiting. His fierce wolf head growled at her.
“Dora, tell them to open it!”

She gasped. “
You sound so human.”

“In your mind, babe, I’ll always be and sound human.”
The frightened men aimed their guns at him. “
Tell them bullets won’t kill me but they hurt like hell. Which by the way will piss me off, not as much as you getting killed, but enough to rip their heads off.”

Mansfield’s eyes widened as he circled the werewolf. “Magnificent.”

She pitched her voice low as if directing the emergency staff to a disaster with multiple casualties incoming. “Do as Dirk commanded! He wants to kill zombies not us.”

Mansfield nodded toward one of his men. The guard punched in the code and backed away as the door lifted. Some of the zombies were so rabid to feed they crawled on the floor before the door completely opened. The zombies on their bellies became easy targets and bullets to their brain put them out of their misery.

The rest of about twenty zombies shambled in; their simple brains appeared confused by the choice. Should they eat the ones on the right or the left? Rapid gunfire rang out. “Eat this!” Dora fired at the crowd. Her hit targets shuffled forward.
Shit, I suck at this.
Shot everywhere but in their freakin’ brains. Shooting the head even with a small submachine gun was not as easy as the movies made it out to be. The trained men, however, finished off the ones she crippled.