Dead Man Running (33 page)

Singler had worked with Wiley's undead in the West to convert hundreds of farmers and ranchers.  The plan was to
transform
dozens of their operations to places capable of securely housing and feeding hundreds of human beings.  The initial location –
the Golden Bar ranch located
about
fifty miles northeast of the Four Corners in Colorado – was ready for its first one hundred residents.  Bungalows have been built to house the breeders and their offspring.  There
we
re ample recreational facilities to keep the meat happy and healthy. 
There was even a fully equipped hospital to keep the food healthy until they could be butchered.  A second location nearby – a former cattle slaughter house – has been converted to a location designed to butcher and package human meat.

The cover story for these people
was
that they
we
re moving to
Colorado
to get away from high crime
Oakland
.  Wiley's
Silicon Valley
undead have created software that will automatically provide updates to the breeders' Facebook and Twitter accounts.
 
Mo
st of their friends and family will be satisfied to stay 'in touch' via social media.
 
Who actually talks to anyone anymore?

The handlers at the Golden
B
ar will periodically take pictures of the happy breeders for posting online.  And the residents
will
be happy – Wiley's
cadre of physicians and chemists has
made sure
of that.  The
food and water
was chemically enhanced
to maintain everyone's happiness.  That same chemical stew ha
d
been added to the
Altadena
housing complex's water for the past
two
days, making the winnowing process a smooth operation.
  It has been field tested and the chemicals
we
re not detrimental to the undead – in fact, they give the me
a
t a garlicky flavoring.

The double electrical fencing
that surrounded the human ranches
was
not there to keep the residents
in;
it
was designed
to keep unwanted attention out.
  A significant canopy of trees had been planted with great care to eliminate unwanted views from above.  Becky Sings had thought of everything.

She led Mookie into the
complex's recreation space.  Secretary Wiley met his two closest advisors at the door.  "How are we doing outside?" he asked Mookie. 

"All is
secure
, Ben," Mookie responded. 
His boss' eyes glowed with anticipation.  This was the fulfillment of his vision of the new world order and Mookie knew how important this moment was to him.

"Are you prepared, Becks?" Wiley asked but he knew the answer.  Becky Sings was ready always.

Wiley began to walk through the
happy crowd and the two matched his pace.

Becky nodded.  She was confident but nerves tugged at her stomach.  She wanted so much to please this man it sometimes caused her physical pain.

"We have the tables set up – one with red t-shirts, one with blue t-shirts and the other with black t-shirts.  The individuals you designate as food will receive a red t-shirt and then be herded to building A.  There are seventy of the undead
a
waiting their arrival."

"Are they prepared to clean up after themselves?"

"We have them in the basement.  The floor is concrete but we have covered the floors and walls with a double layer of painter's drop cloths.  I have instructed them to
destroy
the drop cloths and all personal effects in the building's
incinerator.'

"Very good.  And the other colors?"

"Blue t-shirts are given to those you select as the breeders."

"Have our physicians completed their medical exams?  Do we know who is and who is not capable of fathering or bearing children?"

"They have, sir.  The adults capable of reproduction were told to keep on their medical bracelets.  Of the one hundred and thirty-seven adults present, eighty-nine or sixty-five percent are capable."

"The black t-shirts?  Those we convert?"

Mookie spoke.  "Yeah.  I have enough globes to convert the whole building i
f
that is what you decide."

"I won't, but I'm happy you're prepared for every contingency old friend."  The two zombies exchanged smiles and Becky Sings felt excluded momentarily.

"Are you ready to proceed with the winnowing, sir?" she asked.

Wiley nodded.  Becky asked the residents to line up against the wall and Ben Wiley began to determine who would live, die, or die and live again.

He reached a very heavyset woman.  The woman smiled in his face and Wiley shook her hand.  He looked her over – she retained her medical bracelet – and finally sent her to the table with the blue t-shirts.

Mookie
looked
disappointed to see all that meat walk away.  Wiley and he made eye contact as they appraised the next resident, a tiny hawk of a woman. "We need breeders more than we need another meal, Mook." 
Mookie
watched the
heavyset
woman struggle into a
4X t-shirt.  It ripped under the arms as she put it on. 

"In this society, that woman will never get impregnated.  She'll die childless and alone.  In her new home we will have dozens of men happy to have sex with her.  Why, she can have a dozen children, maybe more as we perfect our ability to generate multiple births.  She will be happy
,
surrounded by her
numerous
offspring and eager lovers."  The woman grinned from ear to ear as she joined the others with blue shirts.
  

Wiley quickly sent the
birdlike
woman to get a black t-shirt.  Older women made the best Wiley Warriors.

Mookie nodded - he understood but that didn't prevent his stomach from growling. 
He was very hungry and wanted a meal badly.

The winnowing complete, Wiley joined the feast in the basement of building A.  Mookie
said that he would join
him but he first had to supervise the conversion of the forty-one residents that Wiley had chosen to be Wiley's Warriors. 

It had been
months
since Wiley and his trusted friend had shared a human body – Wiley missed his friend's comic enthusiasm for a pair of generous buttocks.

Rebecca was on her way to
Colorado
with the excited group of one hundred and nine men, women and children.
  The caravan of luxury motor coaches would
arrive at
the ranch in less than two days.

The less than lucky red t-shirt residents were in the basement.  They happily discarded their t-shirts and the rest of their clothing.  Jewelry was removed also, all to enable better digestion by the zombie horde.

Set on top of the pile was a heart shaped pendant.

The zombies themselves wore slick coveralls and Wiley climbed into his set as well.

After a brief greeting from Wiley, the feast began.  Wiley tore the head off an older man and laughed as the body flapped its arms before expiring on the covered ground.  He was munching on the man's diseased organs – he had cancer of the liver - when his cell phone vibrated.  He removed the phone from its cradle with a bloody hand.  The caller ID said that the call was from The White House.

He answered.  "Secretary Wiley?" a voice asked.

"Yes."  He had to speak loudly to he heard over the sound of heavy bones being crushed.

"Hold one moment for the president," the voice replied.

In a moment Barack Obama was on the line.

"Ben," he said.

"Mr. President," Wiley replied.  He reluctantly wandered away from his kill but he had no reason to worry, the others wouldn't dare eat their leader's human.

"There's a lot of noise, Ben.  What is that?"

"I'm in a daycare, sir.  The children are eating
."  Wiley smiled.  Indeed they we
re.

He stepped in
side
a storage closet
and shut the door
.  "Is that better, sir?"

"Yes.  They must be a bunch of sloppy eaters.  Listen, I need your help."

"Anything, sir."

"Mahmoud Ahmedinajad wants to do the 'Fidel thing' and take a tour of
Harlem
after his UN speech. 
Our enemies from repressive regimes always want to speak in
Harlem
.  Do you have any idea why?"

"Perhaps they feel that both they and the residents of
Harlem
are oppressed by the same power, sir."

"Right.  Well, Madame Clinton is not happy but I want to make it happen.  Maybe we can turn this guy around.  And I want
you
to lead the tour.
"

"Yes, sir, no problem."

"This guy has to stop bashing
Israel
and back away from the nukes.  Help him see the light, Ben."

Benjamin Wiley smiled.  The brilliance of his teeth nearly lit up the dark space he occupied.

"I will do what I can, sir," he said and Obama unceremoniously clicked off. 

In fact, he would make Mr. Ahmedinajad one of Wiley's Warriors, his first foreign convert.
 

A
n aggressive regime like
Iran
with nuclear weapons was untidy, a potential roadblock to Ben Wiley's plans for global domination.  He
ha
d to eliminate the threat and Barack Obama had just provided the opening he needed.

Conversion of the lucky forty-one complete, Mookie walked the complex one last time, searching for any witnesses or stragglers.  On the second floor, as he passed a corner apartment, he though he heard sobbing sounds.

The apartment door was unlocked and he pushed
it open
.  He listened again and the sound of crying was more distinct.  As he stepped
inside
, the warped linoleum floor underneath his feet creak
ed loudly.

All became quiet in
the apartment. 

Mookie Sills was experienced searching for people, especially weepy eyed hoes who didn't have Mookie's cash money.  He closed the apartment door.  He took a straight backed chair and jammed it underneath the doorknob.  He commenced his search.  After a couple of minutes he reached the kitchen.  The child – likely a girl – had to be hidden
t
here.  He looked about the room.  He opened a tall pantry cabinet and found nothing but dry
food.  As he closed the cabinet door a blue and white shape darted out of the cabinet underneath the sink.  The girl child – maybe
twelve
or thirteen
years old – struggled to dislodge the chair Mookie had placed underneath the doorknob.  She was screaming and there were tears flying. 

Mookie sauntered across the apartment.  His voice was gentle, at least as calm as a former pimp's voice could be.  "I'm here to help you," he said.  Mookie Sills was used to calming upset bitches but this was a little black girl and little black girls aren't bitches, are they? 

Men like Mookie Sills have a clock in their heads – black girls don't become bitches until they're at least seventeen.  After seventeen all black
females
we
re bitches and hoes.  At least that's what Mookie's rap and hip hop heroes
used to
tell him every time he turn
ed
on their music or watche
d
a video.

The girl looked at the man who loomed over her.  He certainly had a nice, wide smile.  She took her hand off the chair.  He took the chair from underneath the doorknob and asked her to sit.

Mookie knelt in front of the girl after she was seated.
  He wondered why the building's tainted water had not made the girl docile like the other residents.  He glanced back into the kitchen and his eyes lit on the empty bottled water containers lined up near the girl's hiding space.  He looked back at the child with comforting eyes and a soothing smile.

"My name is Mr. Sills, what's yours?"

"Tamesha Holloway."

"Pleasure to meet you Tamesha," Mookie said.  He extended his hand and the girl reluctantly grasped his fingers and gave them a quick shake.

Mookie's stomach growled as he crouched in front of the girl. 
He was so very hungry
.
  He imagined all the wonderful meals that had been served in this apartment.