Dead Man Running (64 page)

Mrs. Chin's arm fell to her side.  She, and Mrs. Browntree, said nothing but simply walked away.  They didn't
g
o far but merely
trod
in circles.  Tamesha watched in fascination for an hour.  The two women continued to walk, sometimes into each other.  When that occurred, they righted themselves and continue
d
their circular transit
.

Finally tired of watching, Tamesha
strolled
back to the Chin house.  She had to pack her things and make an important phone call.

The nanobots deposited the transformed
Hamid
Hidar
on the
shore
of
Chesapeake Bay
.  He stood, stretched.  He had
not
felt so well in years.  He
rubbed
his chest – the bots, he realized, had destroyed then repaired his heart. 

He felt happy but undeserving.  They should have killed him. 
And then left him that way.

Given this
new
life, he would make the best of it.  Nothing like this would
ever
happen again.

THIRTY-
S
EVEN

The next morning Manchester
Lee
watched as they placed Jan Sugerfoot Wiley in a wheelchair.  A helpful nurse handed her the boy child after pecking the child on its fat cheek. 

Jan was surrounded by a phalanx of private security and
New York
's finest.  In the wake of the news of the Wiley
home and
plane explosion
s
, the authorities were taking no chances. 

No,
America
was going to make sure
that
the wife and child of the slain leader would be okay.

Homeland Security had gone to its highest threat level given
the
assassination coupled with what they were currently terming a biological warfare attack that has rendered
several million Americans in a stupefied state of being.

The manufacturers of American flags and yellow ribbons – firms in
Shanghai
and
Beijing
primarily – had gone to double shifts to satisfy the oncoming demand.

Manchester
watched from his vantage point of the stairwell door until the contingent was out of sight, heading for the elevators.  He ran as fast as his stiff legs could carry him
up
the three flights to the
roof
.

Using his zombie strength, he crashed through the ceiling door, which had been bolted shut from the outside.  The men who had sealed the door – three FBI sharpshooters – all turned their attention and high powered weapons on the man who had just appeared on their rooftop.  Without warning – given the current state of affairs, niceties like "stop or I'll shoot" have gone out the window – the three men fired.

As the lethal lead tore chunks out of his body,
Manchester
reached into his
duffel bag
and pull
ed
out two reverse zombie bombs and tossed them in the direction of the men.  In a matter of seconds
, the three were
writhing
on the ground.

Manchester
heard the next bullet before he felt it.  It had come from a surrounding rooftop and had the unfortunate effect of destroying one of his eyes.

Manchester
turned back to the door; he wanted to place another two bombs inside the door to thwart any reinforcements coming, but he was now out of time.

He got to the edge of the roof, bullets peppering his dead body.  Below him he saw security hustling mother and child, sheltered by a Kevlar vest draped over top, into what was likely a heavily armored SUV. 

Manchester
pulled a RPG launcher out of his duffle and installed the projectile.  He was careful to keep the weapon below
the roofline
lest the
now
multiple guns firing in his direction hit the projectile.

It was bad enough that he had only one eye with which to aim the weapon
, he had to deal with the withering fire.  I
f the projectile, packed with enough C4 and
glycerin
to take out half of
Harlem
, was destroyed, the human race would be threatened with extermination.

He quickly raised the weapon, aimed with his good eye, and fired.

The projectile easily found its mark – it vaporized the vehicle and much of the surrounding buildings.  In fact, the block was on fire and the fire was quickly spread
ing
.

The explosion and resulting
smoke
halted the weapon fire from the opposite rooftop.

Maybe I'll get out of this after all,
Manchester
thought. 

What are
an eye and several missing chunks of flesh to a zombie?

He turned toward the rooftop door and regretted instantly that he had not secured the stairway with bombs.

A machete's
sharp steel severed his head.  Comically he watched with his one good eye as his body skipped around aimlessly until finally 'giving up the ghost' and collapsing onto the roof.

Jan Sugerfoot Wiley, baby attached by a carrier snug to her chest, kicked
Manchester
head fiercely.  The head cleared the roof, falling ten stories to the inferno below.

"No one, no one is going to kill my baby!" she said.

She turned and left the roof.  She gave no thought to the sacrifice of her
aunt
nor that of the young baby she had 'purchased' from a
drug addicted
unwed mother.  Her only thought was
of
survival, the car that waited for her several blocks away, the home in the tropics where she would raise her son,
Alonzo Jesus
Sugerfoot.

After several days alone in the Chin house, the doorbell rang. Tamesha Holloway, anticipating the visitor, was packed and ready to go.  She
bounded down the stairs, taking them
two at a time.  She flung open the door and before her stood a smiling Mookie Sills.

He held his arms out and she
buried
herself in his
chest
.  He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight.  She began to cry and the former
pimp
cried as well.

Later, he loaded her small suitcase into his car, a black SUV.  He opened the door for her and she climbed in.  He went around, got in and put the key in the ignition.

She laid her hand on top of the one holding the key.  "I killed Hank, and a priest and Mr. Chin," she said.

He looked at her.  "We have all done things that we regret, child.  Now is the time for a new beginning.  We, you and I, need to move forward together. 
We both have blood on our hands but we will cleanse them.  We will begin anew –
as
father and daughter – doing what is good and necessary to wash away the blood
of
our sins.  Agreed?"

"I agree," she said. 

"Now, let's go.  We have a long trip ahead of us."

THIRTY-
EIGHT

THE CAPITAL BUILDING -
WASHINGTON
DC
– FEBRUARY 2013

Elias Turnbull sat back in his seat.  Chairman Claude Simmons leaned forward in his chair.
 
"Do you have any idea why, apparently, Wiley's head of security betrayed him?"

Elias shook his head.  "No, sir.  As Wiley was his alpha, his obedience should have been absolute.  He not only blew
up
the airplane but he also authorized Ms.
Hidar
's access to
Fort
Detrick
."

"Has anyone seen Mookie Sills?"

"No.  I assume he was destroyed in the airline explosion or he is wandering aimlessly on the bottom of the Pacific."

"And Ms.
Hidar
's status
?"

"Waiting on the Capital steps for me, Mr. Chairman.  She has been instrumental in the government's efforts to 'cure' the leaderless zombies and dismantle the bomb factories and secure their magical
potions."

"That does not absolve you or her or her grandfather of culpability," Simmons intoned.

"We understand that, Mr. Chairman. 
We
have been fully transparent about our roles in this national tragedy, with no legal representation and
without any
consideration of our ultimate fates.  Our actions were selfish and reckless and we will carry a deep regret for the loss of life as long as we continue to live."

"I appreciate you not hiding behind the Constitution, Mr. Turnbull.  I officially dismiss you as a witness but reserve the right to recall you at any moment."

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman."

"This meeting of the House
Special Committee on Domestic Terrorism
is adjourned."

Elias walked down the Capital steps, expecting to see his bride
Mira
Hidar
Turnbull.  He did see her but she was standing outside a black limo that featured the presidential seal.

She kissed him on the cheek as he came close.  "How did it go?" she asked.

"I told them everything.  Now our fate is in their hands."  He looked at the limo, peeked at the Secret Service driver inside.

"What's this?"

"Our ride to the White House.  The president wants to see us."

"After all this time?  We've been asking
for a meeting
for three months."

"Let's see what he wants," she replied and slid into the car.  Elias looked around then reluctantly joined his wife.

Obama warmly greeted the pair then shooed the Secret Service agents from the Oval Office.  They did not seem very happy to leave but the famed Obama glare practically pushed them out
of
the room.

He sat his guests on a couch while he took a comfortable chair opposite.

"I listened to your testimony," he said as an opening. 

If Elias was shocked that the President of the
United States
had bugged a secret congressional hearing, he did not let it show on his face.

As the president spoke a huge cockroach appeared on the arm of Obama's chair.  Obama followed the surprised eyes of Mira and Elias, got quiet, studied the bug momentarily then gently brushed the critter off the chair.  It soundlessly skittered away.  The president continued with his reaction to Elias' testimony as if nothing happened.

"I appreciate your honesty
with the American people.  Your willingness to place yourself in the middle of an unprecedented criminal conspiracy is admirable."  He started to tick off a list with his long, slender fingers.  "Let's see, there is murder, abuse of corpse, treason, election fraud, campaign finance fraud."  He was running out of fingers.  "Have I missed anything?"

"Terrorism?" suggested
Mira
.

Obama laughed.  "Yes, can't forget the big 'T'."  He laughed heartily.

"
America
is looking for a scapegoat.  They need some type of explanation for the tragedy that killed hundreds of thousands of their fellow countrymen.  In short, they want blood, and if your testimony gets out, they won't rest until they get it."

Elias leaned forward.  "But you won't let that happen, will you?"

Obama shook his head.  "This ends here, the whole story."

Elias looked at
Mira
,
and
then continued.  "We've given it a great deal of thought, Mr. President.  Mookie Sills had been turned, we don't know how but he was the first zombie that was reversed back to human.  And, somehow, he worked for you.  If you prosecute us, or let the public access my testimony, it will end up tarnishing you."

Obama stood, walked to his desk and hit the intercom.  "Send in Agent Sills," he said.

Elias and
Mira
stood as Mookie Sills entered the room and closed the door.
  "Whip, whop, wham," he said with a smile and a bow in the direction of his former friend.

"Why don't we all sit?" Obama asked.

Mookie took a seat to the right of the president while Elias and
Mira
took their places back on the couch.

"Did my grandfather reverse you?"
Mira
asked.