Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (51 page)

“Human
life
would
find
a
way.
We’re
not idiots.”

She
set
her
mug
back
on
the
table
and
folded
both
her
arms
in her
lap. “You have
such
faith
in
your
fellow
man.
Do
you
know
who
I
was
before
this?”

I
sat
silently,
waiting
for
her
to
reply.
I
did
have
faith
in
my
fellow
humans,
surprisingly.
After
everything I’d
been
through,
I
would have
assumed
I
hated
them. Yeah,
there
were a
few
bad eggs,
there
always
were,
but
for
the
most
part,
people
were
good.
Even
after
having
several
people
attempt
to kill
me,
I
still
believed
humanity
was
worth
saving.

“I
was
the
wife
of the
Secretary
of
Defense.
I
was
there
the
day
the
zombies first
rose.”

I
listened
as
she
began
telling
her
story.

***

Mrs. Johnson stood
next
to her
husband’s
desk,
waiting
patiently
so
they
could
go
to
lunch.
He
talked on
the
phone,
frowning.

“Have
the
reports
been
confirmed?”
He
listened
to
the
voice
on the
other
end.
He
ran
his
hand
through his
hair
and
sighed. “Call
an
emergency
meeting.
This
needs
to be
taken
care
of.”
He
hung
up
and
buried his
face
in
his hands.

“Everything
all
right,
dear?”
Mrs.
Johnson’s
stomach
tightened,
her
fingers
tingled
with
nervousness.

Mr. Johnson
looked
up.
“Remember
those
experiments
I
told
you
the
terrorists
were conducting?”

She
placed
a
hand on
her
chest.
“The
biological
ones?”

He
nodded
grimly.
“It
seems they
have
achieved
some
results.”

Mrs. Johnson
sucked
in a
sharp
breath.
It
couldn’t
be.
It
was
just a
scare
tactic. They
were
trying
to
force
the
U.S.’s
hand.
They
weren’t
actually
going
to use
biological
weapons. That would be
catastrophic.
It
was
against
the
rules
of
war.
“Are
you
sure?”

Mr. Johnson stood
and
grabbed
her
hand. “The
source
is
reliable,
and
they
have
some
video
evidence.
Come to the
meeting
with me.
See
for
yourself.”

Mrs. Johnson
clicked
her
tongue. “You
know
I
can’t
do that.
It’s
against
policy.”

“I
make
the
policy!
I’ve
been
receiving
reports for
months now
about
what
these people
have
been trying
to
accomplish.
It
seemed
so
far
-
fetched
as
to be
unbelievable.
If
they’ve
really
accomplished
their
goal,
the
world
will
never
be
the
same.”
He
sighed
and
lowered
his
voice.
“I
need
you
there.
Please.
No
one will
even
notice
you.”
He
grabbed
a
yellow
legal pad
and
pen
off
his
desk,
thrusting
them
at
her.
“Here,
take
notes
for
me.
You
can be
my
assistant. No one
will
question
you
being
my
assistant.”

Mrs. Johnson
had
never
seen
her
husband so
worried.
His
face
lost
color,
his eyes
were wide. Beads
of
sweat
formed
on his
forehead.
How
could
she
deny
him?

She
grabbed
the
paper
and
pen
from
him.
“All
right.
I’ll
go
to
your
meeting.”

The
conference room
hummed with
indistinguishable
conversations
as
everyone speculated
in
groups
about
what
was
going
on.
All
eyes
turned
to Mr. Johnson
as
he
walked
to his
chair.
Mrs.
Johnson took a
seat
at
the back
of
the
room,
trying
to
remain inconspicuous.

Mr. Johnson didn’t
sit.
He
placed
his fists on the
table
and
leaned
forward.
Worry
pinched his
face,
he
looked
nauseous. “Our
greatest
fears
have
come
to
fruition.
The
one
scenario
we
never thought could
happen
has
happened.
General
Scorvid,
your
report
please.”

All
eyes
focused
on the
General.
The
lights in the
room
clicked
off,
and
the
big
screen
TV sprang
to
life. “This
video
just
came
to
us this
morning.
We
still
don’t
know how they
manufactured
the
virus,
or if
it
even
is a
virus, but
we
do know it
works.”

The
picture
shook, focused on a
concrete
floor,
then
flipped
upward
and
settled on a
row
of
fluorescent
lights.
Disembodied
voices
sounded off
camera,
speaking
in
a
language
Mrs. Johnson
couldn’t
place.

“
‘Blue Phoenix
test
twenty-four,’
”
someone
in the
room
translated.
“
‘After
several
changes
to earlier
formulas,
we
believe
we
have found
the
right
mixture.
Push
that
button.
The
one
on the side.’
They’re
trying
to
figure
the
camera
out,” the
translator
explained.

Whoever
held
the
camera
righted
it, focusing
on
what
appeared
to be a
dead
American
soldier.
He
was
dressed
in
green
army
fatigues,
blood
soaked
through
the tank top
on his
chest.
His blond
hair
was
cut in a
spike,
his
eyes
stared
blankly
at
the
ceiling.

A
man
in
surgical
scrubs
stepped
into the
field
of
view
from
the
right.
His
face
was
covered
with a
mask,
sunglasses
covered
his
eyes.
He
was
intent
on being
completely
anonymous.
He
approached
the
body.
He
held
a
needle
up
for
everyone
to see. Dark blue
liquid
filled the
syringe.
He
jabbed the
needle
into the
soldier’s
neck
and
pumped the
fluid
in
before
quickly
stepping
away
from the
body.