Dead Man Running (45 page)

"
Bryan
," the thing replied.

"Now, you can trust me."

"So I shall," it
said
and he purchased a latte. 

The two spent fifteen minutes in the stands above the rin
k
in conversation.  She gave him all the verbal and tactile cues to signal her sexual interest.  Finally, she said, "I'm starting to feel a little hungry.  I'd love to have
some
company."

The giant grinned.  "I have a better idea.  As you can tell by my size, I'm a pretty fair eater and happen to be a more than fair cook."

"Can I trust that?" she asked.

"There's only one way to find out."

Mira
pretended to consider the offer.  "What will you fix me?" she asked.

The zombie looked in her eyes.  She shuddered and hugged herself to pretend that she was cold.

"Does it really matter?" it asked.

Mira
returned the suggestive grin.  "Not really," she said.  "Just walk me back to my car.  I don't want to leave it in the parking lot overnight."

Bludgeoned by her overt innuendo, zombie Bryan stood up quickly and helped
Mira
to her feet.

In a matter of minutes the pair
was
in a remote parking lot, heading toward where
Mira
pretended to have
parked her
vehicle
.

When there were no more people around,
Mira
faked a
sneeze.  "One second,
"
she said as she stopped walking.  She handed
Bryan
her
ro
l
ler
skates and pulled her backpack off her back.

"I know I brought some tissues," she said as she rummage
d
through her bag.

Her hand closed around an object and she pulled it from the bag.  It was not a tissue – it was
a
metallic globe.

Bryan
looked at the device, then at
Mira
Hidar
.  He smiled.

"I think you're too late for that," he said.  He snatched the object from her.  "Perhaps we could use this on you, afterward," he said.   "Much, much afterward.  Human lays are still the best," he added. 

He dropped the globe as it opened with a snick.  He smiled.  "
Uh oh
.  Oh well, I guess I'm gonna have some zombie tail tonight."
  He laughed.

A cloud of miniature robots called nanobots emitted
from the globe and found their target.  The zombie was covered by dozens of the things. 
They began to burrow under his skin, past his eyes and into his mouth and nose. 
Strangely, he laughed even more.  "This must be broken," he said.
  "Did you buy this crap on eBay?"

His expression quickly turned more serious as the nanobots went to work. 
He
swatted the 'bots
off his body until his legs gave out and he collapsed.  His smile froze on his face as the paralysis set in. 

With great effort,
Mira
managed to drag the creature's body behind
an abandoned
car, which sat in a lonely corner of the lot.

The
nanobots
continued
their
work – emitt
ing the transformative spell from tiny speakers and administering the reversal
potion. 

After twenty minutes, Bryan McMennamin was on his feet, although still weak.

"I'm not one of them anymore," he said.
  There was some disappointment in his tone.

"You're alive again, human," she said, still shocked that
Hamid
's formula had worked. 
Bryan
was human again – the only vestige of his former status the extra wide mouth and less than lively eyes.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"Go back to your life.  Blend in as best you can."

"Will you be able to help everyone like you helped me?"

"One day," she replied.  "And when that day comes, I
may
need
your
help."

"You can count on me," the reborn human said and he slowly walked
away,
back to
the
ways
of the living.

In the super rich suburb of
Daly City
, Tamesha struggled to fit in with her Asian foster family.  The Chin's had no children.  They were kind enough to take in Tamesha
as they had other children over the years
.

Money was fine but, best of all for Tamesha, the Chin's were not monsters.

This was her sixth foster family since December.  She hoped this would be her last.

Their house sat in an exclusive gated community.  There were perhaps a dozen other houses, the closest one separated by several acres.  From her new bedroom, Tamesha looked out over the
nearest
neighbor's property.  They had a small pond and a barn which contained two horses.

Tamesha's mind was on Granny T.  She wondered if her grandmother was truly dead, as the woman had predicted months ago.

Everything
else
her granny had predicted had come true.  In her heart, Tamesha knew that she was alone in the world now.  Her granny was gone.

But was she
really
alone?  What of the kind man who had rescued her from the Altadena Arms?  Granny T had predicted him too and he came and helped her.  Would she ever see him again?
  He had left her a phone number but her calls had gone unanswered. 

Maybe he was dead, too?

As she considered this, she saw a couple and a boy
her age
come out of the neighboring property.  They rambled over the plush grounds until they were on the Chin's property.  Just before they disappeared the boy looked up and he made eye contact with Tamesha.

Tamesha looked away
.  She suddenly felt a chill.

The doorbell rang and Tamesha heard Mrs. Chin greet their neighbors.

In seconds, Tamesha stood before the neighbors, the Bartholomew's.

The man and woman, middle aged, seemed to be normal.

The son – maybe a year older than Tamesha – he appeared off in some way.

"I think we can be great friends," he said to Tamesha.  He placed a cold hand on her arm and smiled a brilliant white and wide smile. 

At that moment Tamesha knew – Henry 'Hank' Bartholomew III was a monster.

Tamesha pretended illness so that she did not have to play with Hank, as suggested by her foster mother.  Instead she made her way upstairs and lay on her bed.  She spent the rest of her day thinking about how she would protect herself from Hank when he came for her. 

And she had no doubt that he would one day try to kill her.

TWENTY-
SIX

For the tenth time, Mookie Sills played the video of Biden's bombing.  He would keep playing it until the boss said to stop.  Each time
, as
the look of horror crease
d
Biden's face, Wiley erupt
ed
in laughter.
 

The man c
ouldn
't seem to get enough of the scene.  Mookie hit play again and the action unfolded on the laptop screen.

"Is the conversion of Biden's family and inner staff complete?"

Mookie nodded.  "Yes, his wife, children and grandchildren are all converted.  We had Joe himself bomb his staff last night."

"Wonderful.  Freeze it there, Mookie."

Mookie clicked the pause icon and the picture froze with Biden's mouth extended as he consumed an assistant's thigh.

"Usually politicians are photographed eating a hot dog or other iconic fare.  I don't think Joe wants this picture on the front pages."  Wiley and Mookie laughed.

"I don't think so, sir," Mookie replied.  Before restarting the playback he selected the option for continuous play.
  T
he video resumed.

"I told him to inform Obama and the DNC today," said Wiley after a few more playbacks.  "His story is that he wants to spend more time with his children and grandchildren."  He looked at his watch.  "He should be done by now."

"How do you think the news will be received?"

"Gleefully by Obama and his team.  Less so by the DNC.  I don't have many admirers among the DNC – somehow they see me as too conservative."  Wiley smiled.

"
You
plan to
create the largest socialist enterprise in the history of this planet.  I don't know why they wouldn't like you."  Mookie looked at his boss and they exchanged grins.
  Wiley's eyes went immediately back to the laptop.

"When do you expect to hear from the White House?"

Wiley's personal assistant Delores Windsong
's
voice came over Wiley's speakerphone.

"The White House is on the line,
Secretary
Wiley," she announced.

"I guess now," Wiley replied to his friend.

The call was brief.  Axelrod told Wiley that he had to meet with the president in one hour.  Wiley hung up the phone and a smile crossed his lips as his attention went once again to the Biden video.

"We're almost there, Mookie.  One more step and we will lead the free world."

"You'll control fifty percent of the world's airspace."

"Yes.  When we control
Russia
and
China
nothing will stop us."

The pair watched the video together until the time came for Wiley to leave for the White House.

Wiley left, leaving Mookie some free time.  He closed up his laptop and walked back to his office
.

There, he retrieved a sat phone.  He uploaded the Biden video onto the phone then transmitted the video.

The communication was one way, it always was.  One thing he did know was that the
recipient
would not be as amused as his boss, Benjamin Wiley.

West Texas Tea Party chairman Bernard 'Bucky' Weatherly watched
Fox
News
as the announcers nearly broke their tongues
breathlessly reporting
the rumor that Vice President Biden ha
d
decided to not run for re-election.

As he watched the big screen with the sound turned down
low
, he drank down a cold can of Bud with his left hand and flipped through files on his laptop with his right.

Frustrated, he called Mary Lou Poteet, his vice chair.  The woman picked up on the first ring. 

"Hey Mary Lou, can you send me the transcript from the January coordinating call?"

"Is there something wrong, Bucky?  You sound kinda stressed honey."

Bucky looked up at the screen.  They were too late. 
He
was gonna get their man.

"Ain't nothing wrong another six or seven Bud's won't cure, ML.  Can you send me the file?"

"It's already on its way, Bucky."

He thanked his right hand woman and opened his email
program
.  Before he could
access
the file his phone rang.

He answered and a voice spoke with no preamble.  "You seeing this?"

"I'm seeing," Bucky answered.  He recognized the voice as that of Russell Harper, Tea Party chair from
Virginia
.

"Do'ya wanna try to make a call?  Maybe it's not too late."

"It's too late Russ.  We had our chance back in January.  We could
'a
stepped in before this primary fiasco and got a true fiscal conservative to carry our banner."

"You think he would have accepted?"

"We'll never know, will we?  Now we're stuck
with
Obama and Romney – a tax and spend liberal and a tax and spend moderate."

"Will Wiley make a difference on the Obama ticket?"

Bucky sighed.  "VP don't count for nothing Russ.  You gotta be the man in order to make a real difference."  He took a deep slug of his beer.  The can was nearly empty.  He reached down into the cooler at his feet and retrieved another.

"What do we do now, Bucky?"

"Pray is what we do.  Pray Obama wins then catches the flu."  He laughed.  Given the assumed government monitoring of his phone calls that was as far as he would go in wishing the Great Satan harm.