Generation Dead Book 2: What You Fear (5 page)

It made sense, and we were very lucky so far in that we had been able to contain the infections we had come across so far.  But if that zombie party hadn’t fallen in that ditch, we’d probably still be fighting.

“All right, let’s get it going then,” I said.  “But I’ll likely sleep on the way, so one of you drive.”

Jake shook his head.  “I stopped sleeping a while ago, so I got this.”

Chapter 8

We reached the truck and I let Julia stretch out in the back while I made myself as comfortable as possible.  We only had a three-hour drive to the capital, so I needed to make the most of it.  Jake was silent as we drove, which helped, and Julia was out cold, so that helped even more.  As I drifted off in the morning sun, I couldn’t help but think briefly about why we were the ones chasing ghosts and not leaving it up to others. 

The next thing I
knew, I was being awakened by my brother opening the door I was sleeping against.  I grabbed the nearest thing to me to stop my fall.  Unfortunately, for Jake, that happened to be his collar, and I ended up yanking him down to the ground on top of me.

“Oof!” 

“Ouch! My neck, you stupid fool! Hey! Quit…” Jake’s verbal harangue ceased when my hand that was clutching his collar inched up and fastened itself on his neck.

I tossed Jake off of me to see a grinning Julia standing there refreshed and lovely.

“Little help?” I asked, holding up a hand. 

“Of course, sweetie.”  Julia grabbed my hand and heaved me to my feet.  She was remarkably strong for her size, something easily forgotten until it was used against you. 

Finally upright, we pulled Jake to his proper vertical position and I held up a warning hand to his angry stare.

“You choose to open a door I was sleeping against.  Am I responsible for your actions?”  I
asked, holding his gaze.

Jake was wrestling internally with agreeing with me or punching me.  I knew what he chose when he shook his head and turned on his
heels.  We walked quickly through the streets of Leport, winding our way towards the presidential residence.

Despite the name, it was simply a modest Victorian home, nestled within the confines of a hillside community.  Our father originally chose the place, saying that the president should not live in a palace, or reside anywhere that the people who elected him could not stop by on occasion to just chat.  The presidents, and there had been three since our father had been one, all agreed to the duty to the people, and hadn’t changed anything since.

The house was a two-story affair, with a porch wrapping around most of the first floor.  As we approached, we saw a middle aged man sitting in a rocker on a corner of the porch, taking in the morning and breathing in the river air.

“Hello the house!” Jake called. It was a courtesy of the times to announce yourself if possible.

“Hello, yourself!  Come on up and join me,” a deep voice responded.

We made our way to the porch, passing by some very nice gardens and
flowerbeds.  Julia stopped to smell a rose, but Jake was focused on the man on the porch, who stood at the top of the stairs awaiting our arrival.  At the far corner of the porch, another man sat with a rifle across his knees.  The pose was casual, if you ignored the fact his hand was on the rifle’s grip and his finger was inside the trigger guard.  At the first sign of trouble, that gun could kill us before we had a chance even to react.  I thought it was a nice touch, but I could see Jake throw a few glances that way.

The man who greeted us was tall, and the years hadn’t stooped him a bit.  He was about mid-forties, I’d guess, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He was lean, with quick eyes, and the demeanor of someone used to command.  His hair was blond turning to white, and he looked us up and down as we approached.  He looked the longest at Jake, and I got the feeling he knew who we were.

“Welcome!  How can I be of service to you?” The President said.  “Please, sit down.”

We positioned ourselves around the table, and at that
moment, the guard materialized at the president’s shoulder.

“Sir?  These people are armed.  Shall I gather their weapons?”  The man said.  The rifle was held low and out of the way, but he was fooling no one.  One flick of the wrist and a squeeze of the finger and someone was going to get blasted.

The president looked at us and smiled. “I don’t think so.  These folks are the kids of friends of mine, and unless I seriously miss my guess, they don’t mean to harm anyone they don’t have to.”  The president looked at my brother.  “Right, Jake?”

Chapter 9

Jake started a bit.  I imagine the last thing he expected was for the President of the New United States to know who he was.  For that matter, I think I was a bit startled myself.  Julia looked quizzically at the exchange, and I hoped she wouldn’t do anything silly.

The president smiled.  “Allow me to fully introduce myself.  I’m Trevor Jackson, formerly Captain Jackson of the Montana Minutemen, and formerly a friend of your father.  I knew you when you were just a babe, Jake, and I was with your father during the Zombie Wars.”  President Jackson looked at Julia.  “I knew your fa
ther as well, young lady, and have the honor of calling him my friend.

“Now that’s me.  However, I don’t think we’ve met, young sir.”  President Jackson looked right at me, and extended his hand. His grip was strong, and while his smile reached his eyes, something
was behind them that made you cautious. 

I had read about Trevor Jackson in my father’s book.  From the very beginning of the end of the world, Jackson was leading men, fighting zombies, and venturing into some very remote territory.  When he was just about my age, my father sent him into the wilds to learn about what might have happened to the centers the state had set up.  What he found out was not pleasant at all.

“I’m Aaron, sir.  Nice to meet you.”  I matched his grip, and hoped he would be friendly about it.

“Well met, Aaron.  I knew your mother.  How are your parents, by the way?  I haven’t seen them in a while.’  The president asked.

Julia spoke up while Jake and I remained silent.  “Our mothers are dead, President Jackson.  They were helping with the cholera outbreak in Ottawa when they both got sick.  They died within three days of each other.”

Jackson looked down.  “I’m sorry.  Such a tragic thing.  To have survived the zombies only to be taken out by a disease that once was curable.  Very sad.  What about your fathers?”

Julia shrugged.  “After the funeral, our dads kept to themselves for a while, then just up and left.  They left a note and told us not to follow.  They’d be back after a while.”

President Jackson looked thoughtful.  “So as far as you know, they’re still alive?”

Jake spoke up.  “No idea, actually.  But they’re unavailable, so we’re picking up the slack, as it were.”

Jackson looked hard at Jake.  “At least you have slack, son.  You might figure on a little gratitude when he returns.”

Jake returned the stare.  “If he does, and I’m not so sure I’d welcome him if he did.”

“You will.”  The President looked very confident, and I found myself believing it, even though I knew the odds were long.  If
Dad could return, why didn’t he?

“So, with introductions out of the way, what can I do for you?”  The president sat back in his chair, and waited patiently.

“Well, sir, our problem begins with this.”  Jake pulled out the canning jar that held the syringe.  In the noon light, it was still as dark and nasty as we had seen it previously.

The guard stepped forward, but retreated as the president raised his hand. “Interesting.  What is it?” he asked as he studied the needle

“We took that off of a man in St. Charles.  He was breaking into homes as people slept and injecting them with it,” Jake said.

“What?  Why? What’s in it?” Jackson did not look as closely as he had before.

“It was turning people into zombies.  Our guess is that you’re looking at a syringe full of straight Enillo Virus,” I said.

The president sat back in his chair.  “Holy Mother of God.” 

Chapter 10

I understood how he felt.  He was looking at death incarnate right on his own front porch.  The slightest prick from that needle and you were dead and gone, reanimated later as a carnivorous corpse. If someone put that mess into an aerosol spray, a room full of people could be infected at once.  The guard stepped back a pace as well, and in that minute I got a good look at the man.  He was as old as the president himself, with years of hard fighting etched into the lines of his face.  I suddenly realized this was one of the original men that Trevor Jackson had started out with, fighting side by side for years.  Now, he was still serving, as a loyal guard and companion, ending his years of service with honor.

President Jackson regained his composure quickly enough.  “You said they were turning people into zombies.  Do you know why?  What happened to the man who owned this?”

Jake spoke up.  “We don’t know the why, and as to the man, he died from an injection of that same material.  What we do know is there is a man behind this madness, someone called Ben, who seems to have a kind of vendetta against my father,” Jake also relayed the information about the town that had been turned, and what we had done to contain it.

The President pondered that for a moment, looking off into the distance, but not really looking at anything.  After a long pause, he shrugged.  “Can’t say as that brings anyone to mind, although your dad did make his share of enemies along the way.”  He turned his attention back to the jar. “What were you planning on doing with this?”

It was Jake’s turn to shrug.  “I figured we’d hand it over to the labs here at the capital and see if they had anything to say about it.”  Jake looked over at Julia and me. “After that, we’re not really sure about doing anything but heading home.”

“Well, let’s talk about that.  I’m actually very glad to see you three are here and seem to be well equipped to deal with this new crisis.  Tell me, what have you been doing with yourselves for the last three years or so?”  President Jackson asked.

Julia fielded that one.  “We’ve been collectors. Going after the stuff people left behind.”

“Really?  And have you been to the city?”  Jackson asked, leaning forward.  Even his guard seemed very curious.

Julia nodded.  “We’ve been there a few times.”

“How many, could you remember?”

Julia looked at Jake and me.  “I don’t know, maybe a dozen, certainly no more than fifteen or sixteen.”

We both nodded, remembering about the same number.  I didn’t see the significance, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Let me get this straight.  You’ve successfully infiltrated the city, where the last known number of zombies was somewhere in the millions, collected what you needed, and made it out again at least a dozen times that you remember?”

“That’s right.”

President Jackson leaned back and shook his head.  He looked over his shoulder at his guard and said, “I’d say they were qualified, wouldn’t you?”

The guard simply nodded.  There was something new in his eyes, something that looked almost like respect.

“What’s the big deal?” Julia asked.  “Lots of collectors go into the city.”

The president chuckled.  “
Yes, they do, and the average number of trips survived is three.  Your little band has beaten that number five times over.  That’s a big deal, little lady.  Here’s the thing, and hear me out.  When the end came, most people died not because they were stupid or couldn’t figure out how to survive.  They died because they couldn’t come to grips with what was right in front of them.  They’d seen zombie movies and read zombie books, but the reality really did them in.  Those that survived, like your fathers and me, took a simpler approach.  Zombies were out to kill us and we didn’t want to die.  We found others like us and here we are today.  Trouble is that people like myself and your fathers did our jobs too well.  We took the fight to the zombies and either killed or contained them.  People picked up their lives and started over, too willing to forget that the danger was out there, and could return.

“A lot of people my age, we could handle an outbreak.  Trouble is, there aren’t that many of us concentrated in a single area any more.  We took our skills and branched out.  We brought up our kids to fight and protect themselves, but that was more to the laws of nature and having the law too far away to do any good if we needed them.  The rest of the people don’t know of the world we once had, or how to handle a serious zombie outbreak.  Hell, the army we have now is a bunch of kids that would likely wet their pants if a real zombie horde showed up.”

“Which brings you to us and our current situation,” Jake said.

“Exactly.  You were trained for this, no question about it.  You were trained to assess, analyze, and attack.  You could do what an army couldn’t.  You can face the hordes and not flinch.  If what you tell me is true, we’ve got some serious trouble coming our way.”  President Jackson looked over his shoulder and nodded at the guard, who promptly went into the house.