Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (52 page)

The
camera
jostled
again,
and the
sounds of scuffling
feet
filled the
room.
Something
clanked,
and
briefly,
the
links of a
chain
link
fence appeared
on the
screen.
The man
with
the
camera
moved so the
lens
was
between the
links,
giving
a
clear
view
of the
body.

Minutes
passed. Nothing
happened.
The
room sat
in
stunned
silence.
In
the
darkness,
Mrs. Johnson saw
a
few
heads
turn
to
their
neighbors.
She
sensed
that people
wanted
to
ask
what
was
going
on, but no one
said
a
word.
A
small
thud
sounded
from the
TV,
and
all
eyes
focused
back
on the
screen.

The
soldier’s
hand
twitched, thumping
on the table.
Then,
the
foot
moved.
More
foreign
whispers
sounded
off
camera.

“
‘The
serum
targets
the
primal
parts
of the
brain,
the
ones
that
control
simple
motor
function
and
basic
survival
needs.
They
don’t actually
need
food,
their
other
systems
don’t
work,
but the
mind thinks they
do.
They’ll
attack
others,
believing
humans
are
an
easy
source
of
nourishment.’
”

The
soldier
sat up. The
tension in the
meeting
room
grew.
The
body
on the
table
turned
toward the
camera.
His
face
was
badly
burned,
half
of
it
charred
black, the
left
eyelid
completely
missing.
It
moaned,
a
low,
rumbling
sound
that
could
have come
from
Hell
itself.
It
moved
toward
the
fence,
falling
face
first
off
the table.

Mrs. Johnson
panted. She brought
her
hand
back
up
to her
chest,
her
heart
beat
rapidly
under her palm.
She
wanted
to turn
away,
close
her
eyes
from
the
horror, but
she
couldn’t,
she
had
to know
what
happened
next.

The
soldier
got
to his
feet
and slowly
limped toward
the
camera,
his
hand
outstretched,
his jaw
opened
and
closed,
anticipating
a
bite. The
men
behind
the
fence
stepped
back
as
the
creature slammed
into the
metal.
It
reached
for
them, unable
to
navigate
the links.
Another
moan
sounded,
even
more
disturbing
than the
last.
Chills
ran
through
Mrs. Johnson’s
body.

The
voices
spoke
again.

“
‘Determination
for
basic
necessity
makes
the
creature
unstoppable.
It
runs purely
on
instinct.
Any
shred
of
human
emotion
and
reasoning
has
been
eradicated. The
only
way
to stop it
is
by
ceasing
the
limited
functions
of the
brain.’
”

The
doctor
appeared
once
again
on the
screen, a
large
black
Desert
Eagle
in his
hand.
He
raised the
barrel
to the
soldier’s
head
and
pulled
the
trigger.
Even
on
camera,
the
bang was
deafening.
Mrs. Johnson
jumped.
Blood
splattered
the
lens,
and
the
creature
crumpled
to the
ground.
The
screen
went
black.

The
lights
clicked
back
on, illuminating
the
pale
faces
of
the
crowd.
No one
spoke.
They
barely
looked
at
one
another.
What had they
just seen? Was it
real?
Did
they
really
witness a
dead body
being
brought back to
life?
It
had to be
some
sort of
trick,
a
hoax.
It
had to be.

“We
know two
things
from this
video,”
Mr.
Johnson
finally
broke
the
silence,
though
his voice
was barely
over
a
whisper.
“We
know they
have
figured
out how
to bring
the
dead
back to
life,
and
we
know how
to kill them.
A shot to the
head
seems
to
take
them down.”
He
finally
sat
in his
seat.
“We
weren’t
meant
to
get
this
video.
The
terrorists
were
sending
it to
their
Generals,
and our
ground
troops intercepted it.
Several
brave
men and
women
lost their
lives
getting
this to us. We
have
the
knowledge,
now we
must do
something
with it.”

“What?”
It
was
the
President.
His
hand
was
over
his
stomach,
and
he
burped. He
attempted to keep the vomit
down.
“We don’t
even
know
what
they’re
planning
on
doing.”

“And
we
shouldn’t
give
them the
chance
to do it,”
General
Scorvid
chimed
in. “We
have
to
act,
and
act
now.
If
this thing
gets
out, it could
devastate
the
country.
The
world.”

“I
can’t
authorize
any
action
based
on this
video.
We
can’t
tell
the
people
of
America
that our
greatest
enemies
have figured
out how to raise the
dead. First
of
all,
they
wouldn’t
believe
us.
Secondly,
the panic
it would
cause
would be
monumental.”

“Then
send
in a
covert
operation.
Take
this threat out
before
it
gets
out of hand,”
General
Scorvid
said.

The
President
sat
silently,
staring
at
the
desk
and
contemplating.
He
looked up, his mouth
pressed
in a
tight
line. “Do
what
you
have
to.
But
keep it quiet.
No one
finds out how this
started.”

***

“Two days
later,”
Mrs. Johnson
fought
back the tears,
“the
attacks
happened
on
a
global
scale.
We
were too
late.
By
the time
we
got
the
video,
syringes
of the
stuff
were
on their way
to every
capital
in every
country.
The
armed
forces
did what they
were
told to do, and they
kept
things
quiet. Unfortunately,
they
couldn’t
save
everyone.”
She
took a sip of
her
coffee.
“We
set
up
bases,
secret
places
to study
the
zombies,
hoping
to
find a
cure,
but the
creatures
never
made
it.
The
disease
spread
too
fast.”