zombiesurthrivalist

[zombiesurthrivalist]

Minor Update

Slight hiatus. Crazy work schedule and a lot of personal stuff to work through is leaving me little time to write. I hope to add more content in the next week or two. Hang in there. It is coming.

[zombiesurthrivalist]

2.1

(Something a little different while I am working on the larger story. The 2 series will be poems or short stories. There will also be a 3 series that is a story I am working on with a friend that is about a magical world and the people within it.)

A breath drawn in through

eyes half open, straining to see

the darkness

above the clouds.

Such a simple request

but hard to fulfill.

Each moment

floats as if suspended in

gelatin, frozen for just that second.

The heart knows the boundaries

falsely created by a broken

society and it weeps

for salvation, for

solitude.

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.8

Nick returned to the doctor’s house the following day with two Tupperware containers filled with the remains of Garry. It was all he had left from what Brian had given him as leftovers. Nick was not sure if he should tell Dr. Marks everything that was told to him but decided to play it all by ear. It all depended on what the doctor had discovered overnight.

              Nick rang the doorbell. Instead of the old man Dr. Marks opened the door himself. Nick must have given a look of alarm because Dr. Marks briefly said, “I gave him the day off.”

              “Thank God! Even though I only met him for a second I did like him.” Nick exhaled a held breath.

              “Indeed. I am rather fond of him myself.” Dr. Marks looked as if he was unsure of the validity of his own statement. “Please come in. I think you will be pleased with what I have discovered since we last talked.”

              Nick walked in the door and Dr. Marks closed it after him. The foyer was just as empty as before save for the same boots under the wooden bench. Dr. Marks ushered him down to the basement, which also looked the same. Except the gardener was sitting up on the table. He was missing most of his legs, part of one arm, and a chunk was taken from his shoulder. He had a glassy eyed looked, almost as if no one was home behind the eyes, and his breath was so shallow it almost seemed as if he were not taking any breaths at all. The vacant eyes shifted slight to look at the two figures.

              “What the hell!? Wasn’t he dead the last time I saw him?”

              “Technically speaking, yes. However, I used all of the components you mentioned yesterday to create a scenario identical to what happened. At first I combined one of my two experimental substances to see which one was the culprit but that proved fruitless. I combined everything and simulated the incident. See that glass cage in the corner? I put Julio in there and set all the components to match your experience. I knew it would be a shot in the dark using an already deceased specimen but it was worth the effort to at least try. I am not ashamed to say that I feel a little like Victor Frankenstein at that crucial moment his monster gained life. Julio however has not moved much from where I set him on that table and I doubt he will pose any real threat given he stays down here. I can go near him without any concern but when I tested a theory by bringing the butler down here Julio fell on the floor and crawled to him faster than any human should be able. I think he was more than terrified and as he was running from the room I told him to take the day off.”

              “I …” Nick did not even know what to say. He was still having a hard time grasping whether or not this was real life and everything just became a whole lot weirder.

              “I know. I know. Replicating the environment and creating another one of us was one thing, but finding a cure will be quite another.” Dr. Marks beamed.

              Nick just stared at Julio, wanting to move closer to examine him but unable to take a single step.

              “He won’t bite, you know.”

              Nick closed his eyes and thought about all the times he was actually scared. This amounted to a sum total of four times. He was a risk taker after all. Nick tentatively inched forward toward the man, beast, creature on the table. Reaching a hand out toward the man’s face he noticed that Julio did not stir or even blink. It was as if he was looking past or even through Nick. When Nick finally touched his face he noticed that the skin was cold and solid, not pliant like living flesh. Julio felt like a statue.

              Almost as if reading Nick’s mind Dr. Marks began to speak, “I think it is because he was in rigor when it happened. As you know we are not as solidified and it has been several weeks for us.”

              “I am surprised you even managed to bring him back like this at all. This was not what you were trying to do, was it?”

              “Not entirely. I merely wanted to see if the combined chemicals affected his flesh in the way it does ours. He does have ulcers in his mouth because I have not given him any sustenance. He also has some sores forming on his back that I cannot account for and his right leg was still firmly attached at least three hours before you arrived. He seems to be deteriorating at an exponential pace. Perhaps this is an idea of what will happen with us given the right amount of time. The single most curious incidental finding is this: Julio had stage three lung cancer that we knew about for months, which made it an easy decision for me to take his life when I became hungry enough. His days were numbered anyway. Out of curiosity I tested his lung tissue and the cancer disappeared. Not only was the tissue healthy but it looked like there was never any sign of abnormal cells. That means my components work!” Dr. Marks held both hands above his head in a celebratory manner.

              “I am not sure the risk of becoming a …” he could not even say the word.

              “Zombie? Flesh eater?” Dr. Marks supplied.

              “Yes. Is even worth the benefits. Besides, what does this have to do with anything? A cure for cancer is not a cure for … THIS!” Nick angrily gestured at himself.

              “But it is a step closer! I saw you brought some lunch for us. Let’s take a break before you start to get physically aggressive.”

              Nick humphed. He pulled both containers from the satchel and handed one to Dr. Marks who winked.

The two stood there for several minutes devouring what was left of Garry before continuing with the rest of Dr. Marks discovery. During these few minutes there was a thump that came from the opposite side of the lab where Julio sat. Dr. Marks did not seem to notice but Nick looked over and saw an arm sitting on the floor and a small splatter of coagulated blood next to it. He looked away quickly and closed his eyes.

              “I cannot watch him die like this.”

              Dr. Marks seemed to think for a minute, “Technically he is already dead, but I will move him.” He stepped away from Nick and walked over to Julio, muttering something under his breath before hoisting the decimated body off of the table and walking him over to a closet in the back corner. Once the door to the closet was closed Dr. Marks clapped his hands together loudly. “Alright! So will you help me?”

              Nick was taken aback. “What do you mean help you?”

              “Find a cure of course! Maybe eradicate cancer along the way. Two bird, one stone.”

              “I already have a mission to deliver all of those I can to a safe house in Baltimore and bring five of them back to our headquarters for our own scientist to experiment on.”

              “I highly doubt a government scientist is really going to be looking for a cure. Experiment to understand, yes. Cure, no. Think about it. They don’t even have access to my chemicals or research. They don’t have access to me. And before you say you are going to bring me in I will let you know that there is no possibility of that happening. I will stay safely ensconced in this lab until I can find a way to reverse what has been done to me. I am sure you don’t want to remain a zombie forever either. Am I right?”

              Nick knew he had a point but he had never gone against his government or CNSP Inc. before. This was uncharted territory. What did it come down to? His job or a cure? Could he somehow appease everyone?

              “I just need to see everyone first before you take them in.”

              “What?” He was not paying attention outside of his own thoughts.

              Dr. Marks repeated, “I just need to see everyone first. Run a few experiments and then they are yours to do with as you need to.”

              Nick thought about this. “That might actually work, doctor.”

              “Of course it will!” Dr. Marks scratched his head, creating a mussed look of his hair. “If we are going to work together then please call me Atlas.”

              “Alas?”

              “He who holds the world on his shoulders.”

              “How about Chris?” Nick offered.

              “Fine,” Dr. Marks did seem a little annoyed by this but quickly regained an air of excitement. He smirked, “Where shall we begin?”

(to be continued …)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.7

Nick pulled up to what could only be described as a mansion. There were more windows than he even dared to count and once out of the car and looking around the front of the house he felt a little dizzy. The yard had not been taken care of in more than a week and the hedges needed to be pruned. Nick did not find the state of the yard a comfortable sign. He assumed there should have been hired help to take care of the grounds along with the house itself. He looked at his watch, knowing he did not have to be anywhere else but out of habit. I have got to get this over with. He reached one finger out and rang the doorbell. After what seemed like three seconds an elderly man answered the door.

              “May I help you?” the man asked politely.

              “Oh. I was looking for Dr. Marks. Is he home?” Nick felt a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

              “Certainly. Please come in.” the man bowed and swept an arm to the side in a welcoming gesture.

              Nick had never been greeting in such a way so he hinged his body forward in a slight bow before walking into the expansive foyer.

              “Wait here please.” And the man was off with all the haste of someone who left the stove burning all night.

              Nick looked around the foyer, which seemed all the more impressive by its lack of pictures or furnishings. One wooden bench sat next to the door with a single pair of muddy boots carelessly thrown underneath. There was a flight of stairs off to his right and archways that lead to three different rooms. The room directly in front of him must have been a living room given the edge of a couch was visible from where he was standing. The room opposite from where the old man ran seemed like a dining room with an impressive oak table. In the direction where the old man scurried there seemed nothing. Nick took a couple of steps toward the empty space, curious at what was there and why the old man was taking so long. Nick started to wonder if this so called doctor had attacked his own butler and eaten him when he came to inform him of an intruder in the house. Maybe they were plotting how they would be able to trap Nick and turn him into a couple of meals.

              Nick closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. When he opened them again there stood Dr. Marks, not 5 feet from him.

              “How can I … wait! You look familiar!”

              Dr. Christoff Marks held a doctorate in both biology and physics. He was the top of all of his classes and gained letters of recommendations from every professor who ever taught him. It was said that sometimes he would assist the teachers with their lessons and actually become the professor for the professor. In short, he was too smart for his own good. These days he worked mostly from home and telecommuted to different countries to assist with the latest developments in anything from medical to biological advancements. Dr. Marks today stood before Nick, looking baffled. His hair was ruffled and he was wearing plaid pajama pants and fuzzy slippers of all things. He also had on an off white shirt that was tucked into the waist of the bottoms.

              Just as disheveled as before. “We were on the same flight from Florida. Can I ask you a couple of questions?” And then you can take a ride with me to Baltimore.

              Dr. Marks looked as if he was seriously considering something diabolical. He was rubbing his hands together in the same way doctors do when they use that antibacterial gel in between patients. “Of course! I think we must have a lot to talk about considering,” he glanced at the old man briefly before settling his eyes back on Nick, “how wonderful the flight was.”

              Nick understood. Dr. Marks understood. They were suffering the same affliction and in that moment all became clear.

              “Please come down to my lab. It is my home away from home and I would feel more comfortable there. Stephen, please don’t bother us unless I call for you.”

              “Yes sir.” And with that the old man turned and walked toward a different part of the house.

              Dr. Marks led Nick into that empty space he was wondering about and to his surprise it actually was empty but with a door off to the left. They went through this door and down into what could have easily been a cave. The lab was a massive room only made smaller by the sheer amount of equipment housed there. Off to one side was a bank of computers and toward the other end of the room there were various beakers, test tubes, and even a large table with a body on top of it. Nick continued to scan the room to examine the different types of equipment before retuning his eyes to the table.

              “What the hell is that!?”

              “Oh, him? That would be my gardener. Before I fully appreciated what had happened to me, I was struck with an intense hunger that led me to his rooms one night. When I awoke the next morning I was covered in blood, cradling his body. It seems I had only eaten enough to sate me before I dozed off. I have been saving him for when I need a quick meal.”

              Nick stared at Dr. Marks, aghast.

              “I know the same thing is happening to you. I can see the pain from an ulcer forming in your mouth. You squint on certain consonants when talking.” Dr. Marks was barely phased by this line of conversation. “The one thing I don’t know, and this is what I am assuming you are here for, is why.”

              “Why?” Nick was blindsided. He had not expected this. Really, he had not expected anything but denial or resistance.

              “Why this happened in the first place.”

              Nick thought for a moment. He knew that he was supposed to transport most of the people infected but maybe having an ally would not be such a bad idea. He could just tell everyone that he did not start with the doctor and rather someone else. They never said that he was to bring the bodies back to headquarters. That would be a lot of bodies to account for and he was pretty sure there was not that kind of space. Someone would find out eventually. He was sure there was not even that much space at the safe house. “Maybe we can help each other?”

              “My apologies and no offense but I am not sure you will be of much help to me.” Dr. Marks huffed arrogantly.

              Nick held out his hand and Dr. Marks furrowed his brow in confusion. “My name is Nick Cummins and I work for a special branch of the United States government that deals mostly in armed warfare. I graduated from West Point Academy and have been specifically trained in bomb disposal. I was on flight 972 to defuse an explosive that was purportedly headed to the Washington D.C. area. It was reported to me secondhand that the explosive was a means of attack from another country. This turned out to be a farce and in reality was a test from my superiors with a container that contained nothing but inert ingredients. That being said the makeshift explosive did still emit a cloud of smoke. If I am not mistaken there were several bottles from your luggage that were broken on the floor of the cargo hold, which I can tell you were already broken when I got down there.”

              Dr. Marks slowly held out his hand and shook Nick’s. “Perhaps you could be of assistance more than I thought. Dr. Christoff Marks. All you need to know is that I am a scientist, primarily interested in biology and human genetics.” He seemed impressed. “You said inert ingredients. What were they?”

              “If I am remembering this correctly … iodine, hydrogen peroxide, vitamin c tablets, and … I am sorry, there was one other things that I just don’t remember.”

              “Corn starch?”

              “Yeah. That’s it!”

              “What infantile games were your coworkers playing on you? None of those things would do any harm to anyone.” Dr. Marks shook his head in dismay.

              “Except now they have Doc.”

              Dr. Marks realized how much of a point Nick had. He ran his hands through his hair, which was greasy from not showering in three days. His hair remained slicked back. “I can’t tell you what was in those flasks because they have not been named yet. They are experimental substances that I have been working on to help extend the lives of cancer survivors. Keep them in remission longer. But given this new information I must conduct a few experiments on these inert substances in relation to my own. Please come back tomorrow when I have learned more, and if you don’t mind, bring me some food. Julio is getting a little too ripe for my taste.” With that Dr. Marks began to push Nick toward the door of his lab.

              “I get the idea, you don’t have to shove me.” Nick walked on his own up the stairs, through the vast emptiness of the house, and back to his car. He clutched the steering wheel until his fingers turned white. What an obnoxious man! I am not sure what I thought he was going to be like but that was definitely not it. He looked at his watch and noticed that he had been in that house for 3 hours, unsure of how that much time could have possibly passed. I guess there is nothing left to do but to come back tomorrow.

              Nick looked at the list, scanning for an address close by and upon finding none closer than 20 miles he decided to head home for the evening.

(to be continued...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.6 (short)

              Once in his car he paged through the multiple sheets that Scott has handed him. The first page showed a picture of all the seats in the airplane and on top of each seat was a number that corresponded to a person on a later page. He noticed that were was no number where he was sitting. Scanning the rest of the pages he noticed that a good majority of the people he were to hunt down lived in the surrounding area and six lived in different states. This meant his travel time was going to be drastically reduced, which suited him just fine. He was not so keen on getting on another plane after what happened on the last one. First he is a zombie and then what? Lycanthropy? Nick was having a hard enough time accepting his new reality that adding in another fictional character only make the entire scenario seem like a nightmare.

              He decided to start at the back of the plane and work his way up. He did not remember what the other stewardess looked like and she was not listed toward the back so that left the disheveled gentleman who boarded after him. Oh great. This is not going to start off well. Looking at the sheet of paper corresponding to his given number he saw a professional picture of the same man only well kempt. Dr. Christoff Marks, McLean, Virginia.

              “Okay Dr. Marks. I hope you have been getting some regular meals and make my life easy.” Nick looked at the time on the dash and noticed that is was a quarter past 6:00pm. He didn’t remember spending that much time in the office but decided that it would be best to visit this doctor tomorrow. For now he needed to go home and get some rest before he really dove into this mission

(to be continued ...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.5

He had a lot to think about while he was in the elevator by himself. Francis’s lab was in the basement of the building with sound proofed walls so that no one could hear the commotion within. Francis was a genius when it came to chemistry and electronics but lacked a bit of common sense. All Nick new was that he had a cat he named Schrodinger, a fact that was obvious to anyone who visited his lab seeing as he had a picture of himself and the cat framed on the wall next to his work station, but any other personal details were a complete mystery. Francis gave off the impression that he spent most of his time either in the lab or home with his feline companion.

              Scott Walsh was the completely opposite. Passionately dedicated to his work, yes, but he would go out for drinks with others in the company and had a general air about him that made him extremely personable.

              Nick had met both men during his third year at the company and ran into them on the rare occasion that he needed assistance with any part of his missions. Never had he seen them in the same room at the same time. When Nick reached the lab Francis was sitting behind his desk, feet up, reading a novel that had the head of a cyborg or robot on the cover and Scott was staring at the framed picture on the wall. Both men hear the door close with a light clicked and turned to look at Nick.

              “Howdy partner!” Francis beamed.

              “Hey,” Scott was not known for being verbose.

              “Brian told me you both have some information for me?”

              “So it is true, bro?” Scott’s eyes started to sparkle as if he had just won a jackpot on a slot machine.

              “I guess. I still am not really clear on what is wrong with me. I remember the floor being slick with what I thought was water, the dummy bomb Francis here rigged up billowing smoke, and a burnt smell. No one else seemed to notice the smell though, which was a little odd.” Nick started to rub his chin.

              “Interesting …” Francis started to walk up to Nick, scanning his entire body. “You certainly look the same.”

              “I feel the same. Minus the intense hunger for humans.”

              Both Scott and Francis backed away from Nick with slight panic.

              Nick rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, “Brian said it isn’t contagious and I am not in the habit of biting people for recreation or sustenance. What was in that bomb anyway?”

              Looking calmer Francis said, “Nothing too exciting. Just some simple ingredients even a third grader can find. Hydrogen peroxide, corn starch, iodine, and a couple of Vitamin C tablets. Nothing harmful, just something to create a color change to indicate whether or not you were successful. I am assuming a fuse shorted somewhere thus creating the burnt smell and smoke you experienced. Nothing in there should have caused all of this.” With an open palm he gestured from Nick’s head to the floor.

              Nick did not know much about chemistry but he did recognize all of the ingredients Francis had mentioned and agreed. “What about the floor?”

              “The water? That wouldn’t have done this. Unless …” He broke off mid-sentence and started to stare at Nick with a half confused, half questioning look.

              “Unless what!?”

              Francis seemed to be lost to the world, or at least to the rest of the conversation.

              Scott walked up to Nick and put a hand on his shoulder. “Unfortunately he does this. Give him about 10 minutes and he will return from the dead.” Scott’s eyes widened at the error in his speech. “Oh … Sorry man!”

              “It’s alright.”

              “Thanks. I think where he was going with this is that maybe the water on the floor wasn’t water after all. I don’t know much about chemistry but didn’t you say they were in flasks or beakers or something?”

              “I never did say. How did you know that?”

              Scott realized he had made yet another error. “I may have tapped Roberts’s office earlier today.”

              “Fair enough.” Nick looked at his watch. It had only been about four minutes since Francis turned comatose.

              “Here.” Scott was holding out a stack of papers for Nick to take. “The manifest for the flight. It took me about 9 hours to track down the addresses of everyone aboard including the crew and I have written that down next to each name. The last several sheets contain pictures of each person but there are a few I could not find any information on so I am assuming they are children. You were on that flight so try to remember who you saw and use your best judgement. I have to get going but once Francis resurfaces he has a couple of gadgets for you. If you need anything at all please call me. I have included my cell number on the very top of the front page.” Scott took Nick’s hand and forcefully pumped it up and down. “Be careful.” And with that he walked from the lab in a quiet shuffle.

              Nick stared at Francis, waiting for him to say something but when the silence ensued he went around the chair by the work station and sat down. He put his hands up to his face and rested his elbows on his knees. He could not think clearly for there were too many thought swirling about in his brain, like a dervish on an acid trip. Nick closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind but was unsuccessful. This day was too much to process. Not only had he been told that he was something akin to a zombie but his mentor had given him parts of a human and he had actually felt better. He tongued the inside of his cheeks and he could feel the ulcers that had formed were gone. When he opened his eyes again and looked up Francis was about four inches from his own face.

              “Francis?” Nick said hesitantly.

              As if he had not been in a trance, Francis leaned backward several inches and started talking again. “… the water was some other substance that when combined with the smoke created this.” He motioned toward Nick’s body.

              “I am not so sure about that. I have seen zombie movies before and it is always caused by a virus. Maybe it was airborne?”

              “Maybe …” But Francis did not sound convinced. “Either way, before you go I have two things for your journeys. First is a small dart gun with a tranquilizer of my own making. I am not ashamed to admit that I had to do some testing on the formula to make sure it was effective.”

              “Testing?”

              “That stew is held down here. It is not common knowledge but there is a massive room behind those doors to your right that was once used to hold soviet spies. She is pretty normal at the moment due to some recent meals so I am not sure if it will work once they are on more of a rampage.”

              Nick shuddered at the thought of that woman being used for drug trials, it seemed inhumane.

              “Anyway,” he handed the small gun to Nick along with a very large box filled with what looked like ammunition but with a small needle on the tip. “Be careful when you load a round that you don’t accidentally touch one of the needles or else you will go down like a sack of oranges.”

              “You mean potatoes?”

              “What?” Francis looked confused.

              “Never mind.”

              “The second thing,” Francis dug through a draw to the right of his desk, “is this!” He held up what looked like an ice pick.

              “I thought Scott said you were giving me gadgets. I was expecting much more than some simple tools anyone could use.” Nick was rolling his eyes in disappointment.

              “You don’t understand.”

              “The hell I don’t! There are zombies out there and you expect me to protect myself and stop this whole debacle with a tranq gun and an ice pick!? Where is the sense in that? Give me something I can actually use!”

              Francis took a deep breath and furrow his brows in a manner that suggested an oncoming headache. “You aren’t going to kill all of them. I want you to bring a couple back to me for testing purposes.”

              “What could you possibly be testing?”

              “Mostly epidemiological pursuits but I may have accidentally killed my first patient when I was trying to extract a sample of her cerebrospinal fluid from her neck. It seems that any injury to the back of the neck, no matter how small, will terminate the life of the host. The two things that I have handed you are to be used to sedate and then either kill or transport. I only need five specimens. Do you think you can do that for me?” Francis was starting to look panicked.

              This was not what Nick was expecting at all. He thought he would walk down here, get more sort of mission briefing, handed some 007 type gadgets, and then be on his way to save the world. The reality of the situation was far grimmer. “S-s-sure.”

              “I knew I could count on you!” Francis patted Nick’s back almost too gently for Nick to feel. “May the wind be forever at your back!”

              Nick was confused by this but stood up and started to walk out of the lab, ice pick in one front pocket and the small gun in the other. The box he carried under his left arm. He heard shuffling behind him.

              “Wait!” Francis came running up to Nick before he got to the door, took the box from under Nick’s arm and was shoving it into a plain brown satchel. “Here.” He held the bag out. “It is weighted so no matter how much you move around it won’t become a pendulum to hinder you.”

              “Thank you.” Nick put a hand around Francis’s upper arm and squeezed. This is the first useful thing he has given me. And with that he turned and left the lab.

(to be continued...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.4

A week had gone by and Nick was starting to feel sick. He had ulcers forming in his mouth and he had been snapping at everyone he encountered over things that would have rolled off his back before. The day after the last mission he decided to take a week off to reflect on his career choice and the frustrations of being administered a test. He spent most of the time off at his third story apartment reading books and researching possible vacation locations. The only times he left his apartment was when he needed to check the mail or go to the grocery store but even then it was usually late at night. He had developed an intense craving for meat during the week and ate at least three steaks a day but even this amount would not get rid of the hunger.

              What is wrong with me? Am I this stressed about my job?

              Nick had read that stress could cause ulcers and an increase in hunger but he knew there might be something different going on. He remembered the burnt rubber small and thought that maybe Brian was lying to him about the inert chemical substances. Brian had never lied to Nick before though.

              He had a million questions swimming though his brain and had no answers. This was nothing new but this time his health was affected.

              Maybe I am just overthinking and just caught a cold. He tried to rationalize.

              Nick hopped in the shower, feeling better with the warm water washing away all of the sweat and some of the sickness. He dressed in a pair of khaki trousers, a light blue button up shirt, and dark brown oxfords and headed out the door. Today was his first day back in the office and he was assured no field work for the next three or four days while he was spending time co-training a new recruit.

              His drive to work was perfunctory. He barely noticed any of the signs or even the fake service road he turned onto off of the toll road to get to the main headquarters. He was like an automaton. His only pressing thoughts were of finding out more information about the test mission. He would need to speak to Francis and then track down the ever moving Scott Walsh, who was the IT specialist of the company.

              He walked in the door and notices that everyone in the lobby was staring at him.

              “Nick! Are you alright? You look a little peaked.” An unembodied voice came from somewhere to his left.

              “Just a little tired is all. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Excuses. Just a little hungry is more like it.

              Brian Roberts emerged from the elevator in front of Nick and greeted him with a handshake, pulling him in close enough to whisper to him as soon as their hands locked. “Don’t look around and just listen. Something serious has happened and we need to talk. Meet me in my office in 15 minutes.”

              When they disengaged from their act of comradery Nick saw a hint of concern on Brian’s face, a look that made Nick’s heart rate spike and his eyebrows furrow together creating a nonverbal questioning response.

              “You look like you could use some lunch,” Brian teased as his normal calmness retuned. “I’ll bring you something.”

              Nick got on the elevator as Brian walked toward the small cafeteria on the first floor. He pressed the button for the 8th floor and the doors closed slowly. He was alone in the rising metal cage. Alone to think. He had never in the many years he had worked with Brian see him look concerned … or was it scared? This probably had something to do with the plane from Florida and why he felt like he did. Once on the 8th floor he walked to the fifth door on his right. A small placard on the wall read “Brian Roberts” and underneath “Chief Recruiting Agent.” The door was unlocked so he let himself in and took a seat opposite the desk on the far side of the room.

              Brian’s office was not large by any means but the way the furniture was placed made it look roomy. There was the desk in the corner furthest away from the door with an old CRT computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse sitting in the middle. Wooden chairs were placed on either side of the desk with small cushions on the seats that were tied to the back of the chairs. No posters or pictures adorned the walls or the shelves but to the left of the desk against one wall were 5 large filing cabinets that Nick assumed contained the personal information of all past and present employees of the company down to the janitorial staff. Nick was curious but he had not been keeping track of time since he forgot to put his watch on and did not want to chance getting caught peeking into what might be confidential files.

              As if his thoughts were overheard, Brian came in through the door carrying a Tupperware container. He walked past several bookshelves filled end to end with literature on everything from Ancient China to cookbooks. “Here. Eat this.” Brian handed him the container as he walked past him to the other side of the desk to sit down with his elbows propped on the surface and clasped hands holding his head up by the chin.

              “What is this?” Nick opened the container and saw what looked and smelled like a flank steak with some sort of brown sauce on top.

              “I did tell you I would bring you some lunch. Please eat first and then we can talk.”

              “No … I want to know what is happened! Why did you give me that look!?” But before Brian could even answer, “I know you have never been able to give me information about anything I have done and I have dealt with that, but this time it is something more serious isn’t it!? You have to tell me! I won’t be kept in the dark!!” Nick’s voice was reaching to a peak, his face turning red, and a few beads of sweat forming on his brow.

              “Please steady yourself. I will answer all of your questions as soon as you eat. You will find that your anger and frustration will subside once you have food in your belly. So take a deep breath and think for a moment. Do you want to sit here and argue with me or do you want to have a civilized conversation?”

              Nick felt like he was being talked to as if he was a little child having a temper tantrum. He glanced at the food in his hands and realized that he was starting to salivate. Maybe I am just hungry. Brian slid a knife and fork across the desk toward Nick. Nick sighed audibly, picked them up, then began to cut the steak and eat the small pieces slowly at first, savoring the taste, then rapidly as if he had never had a meal in his life.

After a few minutes Brian leaned back in his chair and set his hands on the top of his desk. “Do you remember the stewardess from the plane? The one we hired to assist you?”

Nick looked confused. “What about her?”

“It turned out that a couple of days after the flight she started to behave very strangely. When she arrived home that second day she became very short with her husband over things they have never argued about in the past.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Nick was beginning to think this meeting was not about him at all but after that meal he definitely felt calmer and more collected, much like his normal self.

“Her husband used to work for us and is a personal friend of mine.” Brian looked at Nick for a response to his first confession of a personal life outside of the company but when none came he continued. “Anyway. She became angry over simple things and their fights escalated quickly. She also became insatiable, requiring a massive amount of meat when she had been a vegetarian for eighteen years. No matter how much her husband provided for her it was never enough. He became concerned enough to contact me directly. I had Scott install some cameras in their house while she was away to keep an eye on what was happening in their household. Two days ago she brought the neighbor’s dog into their house and snapped its neck.”

Nick was staring at Brian with mouth agape. He is making this up! He has to be!

As if reading his thoughts, “I can show you the tapes if you like.”

              “No … that’s alright.” Nick could not bear seeing this atrocity take place when he was having a hard enough time just imagining it. That gaunt woman being strangled by her own scarf had killed a dog … He could not imagine that very same woman so much as harming a fly.

              “But that is not the oddest part. She proceeded to take a knife from the kitchen and cut off a piece of the dog’s side and cook it.”

              Nick’s brain was screaming at him to stand up and leave, that this was too much and too unbelievable, until he thought about his own past week. He had felt like Hannibal Lecter without acting on any of his urges. In a small voice Nick asked, “Did she have ulcers?” A moment’s pause. “In her mouth?”

              “You know, her husband did mention something about her oral hygiene and her gums bleeding every time she brushed her teeth. But I thought that was unrelated.”

              Nick winced.

              “There is more.”

              “I don’t know that I can listen to any more.”

              “You have to listen. This is important.”

              “But it doesn’t have anything to do with me!”

              “It has everything to do with you Nick.” Brian took a deep breath. “The following day, yesterday, she killed her husband and ate pieces of him. Since then she has been walking around like nothing ever happened and her temper has been reigned in for the time being. The dog was not enough to satisfy her hunger. Do you understand what I am saying?”

              “Not really. I still don’t understand how this has anything to do with me. I never even so much as touched her.” Nick’s head was spinning with a mixture of confusion, fear, and repulsion.

              “In the past week have you been craving meat but nothing seems to satisfy the hunger? Have you been angry for no reason? I am guessing you have ulcers in your mouth since that is something you brought up.”

              Nick would only stare at Brian blankly.

              “I will take your silence as a yes.” Brian relaxed further into his chair taking long deep breaths, expecting a myriad of question to pour forth from Nick but nothing happened for three minutes. Nick appeared comatose and motionless save for the expanding and contracting of his chest as he breathed and the slow blink of his eyes.

              “What did you … feed … me?” was all that emerged from Nick’s throat.

              “I had saved parts of my friend in case Scott’s theory was correct.”

              “Scott’s theory?”

              “Yes. Zombieism. You know he reads all of those sci-fi novels and horrible movies. He told me his theory and that I should trust him this one time. I took a leap of faith and it seems he was correct after all.” Brian closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and raised his eyebrows in an expression that told Nick he was hardly able to believe he put faith in something so obscure.

              “Scott … Who else knows?” Nick was starting to worry about what they would do to him if he really was a zombie. He had seen the movies and there was never a happy ending. They always became brain dead shells of humans walking around craving brains until someone came along and shot them in the head, stopping their days of terror and fright. Maybe the company would experiment on him? The possibilities were not endless but none of them were good.

              “Nick, please remain calm. Only Scott, Francis, and I know about this.”

              “Why the hell does Francis know?”

              “I had to ask him about that test bomb we had him construct for your training mission and he wanted payment in information before he gave me any details. That little Frenchman can be very persuasive.” He shook his head.

              “Does the company know?”

              “No. Garry reached out to me personally and asked if I would do everything off of the books as a favor to him. I owed him one for a time he saved my back in New Zealand so I obliged. Kid, I have been by your side since you first started and have come to view you as the son I never had, whether I acted that way toward you or not.”

              Nick wouldn’t believe what he was hearing. Brian owed him nothing but here he was keeping the biggest secret he probably ever had the burden to know.

              Brian smiled. “If I can help you in any way please let me know. I have asked Scott to track down the manifest for the plane and I need you to do me a favor.”

              “Anything.” Nick was ready. This felt like another mission, only this time there would be no bomb but zombies. He had no idea what he was going to be doing. No one had ever prepared him for the possible threat of the living dead.

              “I need you to track down everyone on that flight and bring them to my safe house outside of Baltimore. No one knows of the place so you must be discreet when getting there. Use whatever means necessary and please do not kill any of them if possible. Information from Garry suggests that this cannot be spread by bites or bodily fluids so we have some time to figure out how to reverse what is happening.”

              “How did he even know that?”

              “Let’s just say his wife was a little rough in the sack.”

              “That is way more than I need to know.” Nick felt nauseous at imagining the waif of a woman being intimate with anyone. He could image her being nothing more than bones and sharp angles underneath her clothes.

              “Garry gave me more details than what I just shared but I thought I would spare you.”

              “Thanks!” Nick was grateful for Brian finally treating him like a close friend rather than a co-worker or underling. “When do I start?”

              “Now if you are up to it. Scott is waiting for you in Francis’s lab. They both have more details for you and a couple of gadgets to use on your journeys. This time you won’t be needing that guitar case you had made for yourself.”

              “Wait …”

              “Yes?” Brian thought he had covered everything.

              “In the plane … the floor was wet.”

              “I am afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.” It was Brian’s turn to look confused.

              “In the cargo hold. There were these flasks that had broken open.” Nick thought back. “But they had water in them?”

              “You should talk with Francis about this. He knows more of chemistry than myself. I must get going though. I am meeting with the new recruit in twenty minutes to take her to her first test mission.” Brian stood up, prompting Nick to do the same. Nick grasped Brian’s outstretched hand and as they shook Brian said, “Good luck Nicholas Cummins. Go out there and save some more lives.”

              With that Brian exited the room swiftly, leaving Nick behind to ponder all that just transpired.

              Zombies …

(to be continued...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.3

He opened his eyes as the alarm went off, a smile curled to one corner of his mouth at the memory of his first time on a plane. How they had tested him, his skills. That was the only test they really ever administered because he proved his proficiency time and time again.

              He could feel the slight persistent vibration in his seat and a momentary dip that told him they were in the air. Looking up the aisle he saw the tops of several heads, some with headphones and others lolled to one side. A stewardess was in the middle of the aisle toward the front with a cart in front of her, delicately serving drinks and bags of pretzels to anyone interested or awake. Her back was to him and it would be some time before she reached the rear of the plane. He guessed seven to eight minutes, possibly ten if a passenger proved to be difficult. He chanced a glace behind him and noticed a thin woman in a pencil skirt and form fitting white button up blouse. About her neck was a red and white scarf pulled taut to her neck, almost strangling her gaunt features.

              “Mr. Cummins?” she whispered as she placed a hand softly on his shoulder. “If you wouldn’t mind, we are on a bit of a tight schedule.” Her eyes moved toward the other stewardess at the front of the aisles.

              “I know.” was all he could manage to say.

              Nick unbuckled the seatbelt and stood up slowly. With one hand on the door of the overhand compartment to prevent it from opening suddenly and making a lot of noise he lifted the handle. When the hatch was open far enough he pulled down the guitar case nestled safely inside and slowly closed the compartment again. In his peripheral vision he could tell no one on the flight noticed. The woman in the scarf ushered him pashed the lavatory and closed a curtain behind her. She bent down and opened a small door on the floor.

              “Please be quick about this.” She looked panicked.

              Nick nodded. “Five minutes tops. Scout’s honor.” As he held up two fingers she smiled.

              He dropped his feet down into the hole and noticed they landed on something solid. Fishing his flashlight out of his pocket he noticed luggage stacked like a series of stairs leading to the bottom. Once he was a decent ways in she passed the guitar case to him and closed the hatch. Everything was dark save for the beam of his light. He set the case on top of a piece of luggage and scrambled the rest of the way down.

              Now to find the damned thi … As his feet touched the floor he noticed that the area was slick. Pointing the light toward his feet he saw what seemed to be water covering the floor and a short way off to the left an open suitcase with several broken bottles. The bottles resembled flasks one normally saw in a chemistry class. He bent down and touched the liquid. Bringing his fingers up to his nose to smell the substance he realized there was no smell to it. Caution told him not to taste the substance but curiosity won out. It was water. An odd container to store and transport water, but water nonetheless. He looked around the small area and noticed a dim green blinking light. Grabbing the guitar case he rushed toward the light.

              A timer attached to a silver metal briefcase.

              The case was not locked and the latches gave easily. He inched up the top and found wires looping in several directions, hiding something underneath that he could not quite uncover. All of the wires were black except for one that was a brilliant shade of orange. Only the orange wire connected to the timer. Nick set the guitar case on the floor, opened it, and flipped up the pseudo-guitar. A small compartment that contained basic tools found in every man’s toolbox lay inside. Several screwdrivers, needle nose pliers, and wire stripping and cutting pliers. He pulled the latter from the case and carefully cut the orange wire. The timer turned off.

              A moment of silence went by. Nick checked his watch. He had only been down here two minutes.

              Another moment of silence went by.

              Well, that seemed too simple.      

              He closed the lid to the briefcase and heard a slight crackle and hissing noise. Smoke seeped from the cracks in the briefcase. The smell of burnt rubber filled his nostrils and slowly permeated the cargo hold.

              Just the fuses burnt out is all. He had notice this happen one other time on a mission in Alaska.

              He waited one full minute and when nothing else seemed like it was going to happen he made his way back to the hatch, hoisting the guitar case up the stacks of luggage. He knocked softly on the door. Light started to fill the opening as the scarfed stewardess opened the door. He handed her the guitar case first then followed.

              “That was quick.” She peered through one side of the curtain before sliding it completely to the side.

              Nick simply nodded before proceeding back to his seat, repeating the same careful opening of the overhead compartment to stash the guitar case.

              I wonder how she didn’t notice the smell. Maybe it dissipated enough before she let me back up here. He closed his eyes and smiled, congratulating himself for another successful mission.

              The stewardess with the tray arrived next to him half a minute later. “Coffee? Tea? Soda?”

              “No thank you.”

              “Would you like some pretzels?”

              “Yes please.”

              She handed him the small packet and rolled the card back toward where his accomplice stood. “That man in 51A was odd. His face was an inch from his laptop and when he thought I was looking at the screen he held it against his chest and asked me for some milk.”

              “Milk?” the one with the scarf whispered.

              “Yes, milk. Who asks for a cup of milk? This isn’t the third grade. I just told him that we didn’t have any and he glared at me until I moved past his row.”

              “How weird.”

              “I think I need a vacation after this month. I am starting to get impatient with the passengers and I am afraid I might snap.”

              “A trip to the beach should be just what the doctor orders.”

              “I couldn’t agree more.”

              Nick ate his pretzels as he listened to the banter of these two women, glad that neither of them mentioned a strange odor because he could still smell it clinging to the fine hairs in his nostrils. He chanced a look at the man three rows ahead of him, cautious that he might still be glaring at the stewardess, but all he could see was dark hair and a faint blue light encasing the stray hairs. For a split second he thought the man had lifted his head and sniffed the air but the motion was so swift he was not certain.

              The captain announced their arrival time, twenty minutes, along with the local time and weather conditions, 12:45pm and 78 degrees and sunny. The wheels had hit the tarmac at Dulles twenty-one minutes after the captain’s announcement and the other passengers began to unbuckle their seatbelts and shift impatiently in their seats, wanting to go about their lives. Nick watched as all of the people stood up and collected their bags from under seats or overhead. Just on a quick glance he guessed that there were maybe a hundred and fifty people on this flight, not including the crew or himself. About one hundred and fifty people that he had saved. He still did not know from whom or what their motive was but over the course of his career he learned that those details were unimportant to him, or so he was told countless times. Early on he had asked a great deal of questions to which he got vague responses, silence, or “You know I cannot disclose that information.” Eventually he stopped asking verbally. Those questions swam about his head with no means of release from their cranial imprisonment. Those questions emerged from the depths now but floated away slowly.

              Nick gathered the guitar case and walked from the plane. He could still smell a hint of burnt rubber before he nodded to the captain and stepped from the plane to the ramp that lead to the terminal. The smell vanished immediately. He thought it was probably just the fresh air getting rid of the lingering molecules that clung to him.

              He walked through the airport and passed baggage claim. He did not bring anything with him other than what he had in his hand so there was no need to stop. The man in the blazer and jeans was standing at the counter, frantic as ever, yelling about the state of his suitcase. It had been completely soaked and several of the contents had been broken. It stood on its wheels by his side slowly creating a puddle on the floor.

              “You were lucky this time!” the man yelled then stopped off, suitcase rolling behind him leaving two clear tracks of water in its wake.

              Nick continued toward the automatic doors and stepped out into a cool summer day. Ahead of him sat several idle taxis, one limo, and a black car with windows tinted the same shade. He walked over to the later opened the passenger door. Bending over and peering in he saw Brian sitting in the driver’s seat.

              “Pop the trunk, will you?” As he put the case in the trunk he wondered why Brian was here. Normally a driver he had only met a couple of times at headquarters would be the one picking him up, never a superior. Did something go wrong? He walked back up to the open door and swung his body and legs into the car and pulled the door shut.

              “You did well kid.” Brian always said this same line no matter the mission.

              “Pardon my bluntness, but why are you here?”

              Brian played with a smile, shifting from one side of his mouth to the other, as he started the car and drove away from the airport. “I just wanted to let you know personally that you passed.”

              “What do you mean passed?”

              “Do you remember when I told you we occasionally administer tests to our operative to make sure their skills remain in peak condition?”

              “You haven’t tested me in twenty years, why now?”

              “Calm yourself.”

              Always the infinite zen master. “The whole thing did crack, hiss, and emit smoke though.”

              “Completely harmless, I assure you. It was nothing more than some inert chemical components. Although … if you did everything correctly it should not have even have done that. Perhaps Francis did not build it up to spec and there was a short along the line. If it went off it would have left your face and hands the color of a smurf. Interesting. I shall talk to him when we return.”

              They drove the rest of the way back in silence. Nick disliked the idea that he was being tested again after so many years. It made him wonder if there was something he had done wrong but could think of nothing. He was meticulous. Ten minutes before they pulled into an underground parking lot Nick’s stomach began to growl loudly. Embarrassed, he looked out the window.

              “First we have to debrief you and then we can work on getting you some lunch.”

              Nick looked at Brian and his mouth started to water. He immediately thought that certain pieces of Brian would make a good steak then blinked rapidly trying to banish the thought from his mind. Was he THAT hungry? The world was full of food so there was no need to think like the Donner party. He looked out the window again and closed his eyes. He just needed a decent meal to sate his hunger and a good beer to slake his thirst.

(to be continued...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.2

Nick sat patiently waiting for the airline attendant at the desk to call the number three, reminiscing on his first mission. There has been many and after a while they all seemed to blend together but that first one he could never forget. When he had arrived at the site the previous operative was missing part of his left hand, had a third degree burn covering the left half of his face, and maintained a glassy look. Nick had automatically thought of Two Face and had to suppress a giggle. A medic was tending to the wounds and his damaged eye. The man never made eye contact or acknowledged the presence of anyone else in the room, including the medic. Apparently the bomb was built with explosives on all sides and the operative somehow managed to engage the left side of the container along a piece of the front, creating a minor explosion that left the room it was in a possible to reconstruct state. The wallpaper was singed and peeling. It looked more of a burning garden than the floral print of the other walls. His first thought was that this was an odd set up for a military installment but also for the first time he really understood what was in stake, if he didn’t die he would sure wish he had. Nick would never make that mistake.

              “Now boarding all passengers.”

              He got up, carrying his guitar case with him, to the short line. Ahead of him were four other people, a mother and her young son shifting his weight from one foot to the next in an inpatient shuffle, a man in suit and tie standing stock still, and another woman in short heels face cast perpetually on her phone.

              This must not be a full flight.

              As his ticket was scanned by the airline attendant she glanced at the case and smirked as if she was reliving some fond memories of a previous life or a past lover. Nick walked past and did not acknowledge her more than a gentle smile and a nod.

              “Excuse me sir,” he heard from behind him just as he was halfway down the walkway.

              Turning around he noticed a final passenger frantically trying to shove his ticket at the attendant. “I must get on this plane! I am going to miss my convention!” Panic rising in his voice.

              “I understand. But this is the wrong ticket.”

              He mussed his hair and dug in his jean pockets, coming up empty handed. Riffling through the pockets in his blazer he was more successful, producing a crumpled piece of paper that he pushed toward the woman’s hands. She unraveled the ball it had become and scanned the bar code on the bottom.

              “Thank you! Thank you!” His hands were held together at his chest as if in prayer and he bowed several times in quick succession, the satchel at his hip swinging and hitting him with a light thud.

              Nick has noticed that this man was breathing heavily and had a faint smell of paint thinner and lavender about him. He wondered what could cause the combination of these two scents briefly before his feet stepped onto the plane itself. He nodded at the flight attendant and the captain as he boarded and looked down the aisles. Seat 54C is what his ticket read. Walking past first class and coach he noticed a lot of empty seats, maybe half of the flight was empty and there was no one in the back four rows. This pleased him since it was always more difficult to perform his duties when the flights were full. Covert explosives specialist was not his job title for nothing.

              When he got to his row, the very last, he stored his guitar case in the overhead bin and settled in to the aisle seat on the left. The man who boarded behind him settled into a window seat two rows ahead and stared out the window at the tarmac. Nick pulled out the magazine from the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him and started scanning through the pages of overpriced novelty items as the doors were closed and the flight attendants went over the safety procedures. A short while later the wheels were turning and they were moving. Nick closed his eyes and set his watch for 30 minutes, enough time to take a short nap and reboot before he went into action. Before he nodded off he remembered Brian telling him that there would be a flight attendant with a white and red scarf who would provide cover for him when he descended into the cargo hold.

              When they start serving drinks and everyone is preoccupied would be the best time to make your move. He could still see Brian’s zen-like features clearly.

-------

              “Don’t worry. Commercial flights are simple. We always make sure there is a flight attendant on board who is in our employ to assure the other passengers are unaware of their predicament. We don’t like to broadcast bombs being on planes for obvious reasons since 9/11 but they are a far more common occurrence than you may think.”

              Nick wasn’t sure about that fact. Something about bombs and the words plane and common did not ring true but this seasoned individual would know better than him.

              He had successfully gotten through the multi-facetted contraption in Germany four months prior and that was on ground. The only difference this time would be the location and possible bumps along the way. Turbulence, he thought, could affect even the steadiest of hands.

              Once aboard the flight he noticed that it was empty. A flight attendant stood in the back by the lavatory next to an open hatch on the floor holding a sliding curtain in her right hand. “Cummins, I presume? We have been expecting you.”

              “We?”

              “Delta. This plane is scheduled for takeoff in about three hours and we need to rectify this situation before it escalates into something more … dire.” She said this last word almost as a whisper.

              Nick walked to the woman and peered down the hatch into the cargo hold. Cold air emanated from the empty space beneath. He took a deep breath, looked at the woman, then bent down toward the floor. With both hands on either side of the hatch he placed one leg than the other into the open space, butt on the floor. Hoisting himself onto his arms and straightening his body he dropped into the cargo hold. The area was large and chilly, mostly empty except for a small wooden container in a corner. He pulled a small LED flashlight from his pocket and walked over to the crate, noticing that the lid lay askew and to one side. Inside the crate, atop a plentiful supply of wood shavings lie a small box made of metal with a timer affixed to the top. The timer had yet to start so he thought it might have been controlled remotely.

              The casing was rudimentary. Pieces of metal held together with screws. He dug through the wood shavings, flashlight between teeth, and found several containers filled with a brown thick fluid and filament connecting back to the metal box. He knew now was not the time to think of questions he could not answer and would probably never have the answers to so he set to work.

              Pulling two portable screwdrivers and a pair of pliers from his back pocket he set to removing one side of the box, which encased an array of multi-colored wires that led from the timer to the containers. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. He had learned that the colors often meant very little to anyone but the constructor and were often meant to confuse any poor soul who tried to disarm the device. The yellow and blue wires went directly from the timer to a small microchip device and the other two went from the microchip to the containers. Often attempting to disarm just the containers would lead to an immediate explosion so he checked the connections to the timer. Red and green. Stop and go. He checked for any obvious switches but there were none.

              Red and green.

              Stop.

              Or go.

              Choose.

              As he weighed his options the timer clicked on and a readout of 3:30 in orange illuminated the small space.

              Shit. He closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have any idea which wire to cut but he had time. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to be right.

              When he opened his eyes the timer read 3:14.

              Quickly examining all of the wires and where they were connected to the microchip he made a snap decision. Cut both wires at the same time. It seemed like this was set up with one being a backup for the other so there was no mistake that it would be detonated. He took the plier and pinched the red and green wires together, careful not to pull at the bases. He took on deep breath in and held it.

              2:28.

              On his exhale he cut both wires and closed his eyes tightly. Nothing happened. He opened one eye slightly and noticed the timer had stopped. He could feel his heart in his throat and tasted bile in the back of his mouth. He had done it. As he climbed out of the cargo hold a manly hand took his to help him out.

              “Brian?”

              “Roberts to you.”

              “Sorry. Sorry. But what are you doing here?”

              “This was a test. I merely wanted to see how you did seeing as I have invested a lot into you.”

              “What!? You mean that thing down there wasn’t real?”

              “No. You misunderstand me. It was real. Just that the fluid inside those containers was simply a combination of maple syrup and molasses.”

              Nick looked baffled. A test? What kind of company have I been working for? I have been doing great! No casualties, stellar performance.

              “Please try to remain calm. We like to make sure our operatives stay at the top of their game so we throw in the occasional test every once in a while to make sure there are no complacencies or cockiness.”

              Nick could do nothing but stare. A test …

(to be continued...)

[zombiesurthrivalist]

1.1

Nick sat in the airport, impatiently waiting for his flight from Orlando to Virginia, tapping his foot on the thinly carpeted floor and drumming his fingers on the thin metal armrest while his guitar case occupied the seat next to him. He had been waiting for an hour, having expected a much longer line through the terminal security. On any normal day he would be stopped and his case rummaged through but he suspected the uniformed woman who gave him a slight wink was working for his company, or perhaps was paid handsomely to let him through without any suspicion. You see, in this case he did not actually carry a guitar but rather a battery of items suited more for someone with highly covert technical skills. A spy of sorts.

​Upon opening the case there was a thin board shaped and modelled after a real guitar. On closer inspection one would notice that several components were missing and that this musical instrument was anything but the genuine item. The tuning pegs did not actually turn and the sound hole was too shallow to produce a usable sound. The workmanship was good enough to even fool a seasoned player though. Once removed there were several compartments within the bottom, some only opened by pressing a hidden button located somewhere on the case itself. In these compartments were anything from pliers to strip wires to Gigli wire to cut through bone should an intense interrogation arise. He has never actually used the latter but his boss thought it pertinent to keep on the off chance that the mission turned south.

​Nick was sent to Florida to disarm a bomb hidden in the cargo hold of this particular aircraft, supposedly left there by an unknown overseas company looking to reach Washington D.C. for a bit of chaos and panic. The end goal was never clear but Nick hardly ever got the full story but rather the mission objectives and abbreviated debriefings essentially praising him for a job well done. “Congratulations! You beat the evil men again!” This mission was to disarm the bomb mid-flight, keep all passengers safe, and return home for the next mission. He need not know more than that.

​He was ready.

​“Now boarding flight 972, Orlando to Dulles. All disabled and those needing assistance please board first.” He vaguely heard this over the loudspeakers as a couple nearby began arguing about something inconsequential.

​Nick took a deep breath and looked at his ticket. On the top corner there was a number 3, indicating that he was probably sitting in the back of the plane and thus one of the last to board. This posed a minor problem seeing as there might not be room for the guitar case but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to keep it with him. There was no way he would part with the tools he actually needed to complete this mission. He took another deep breath and hoped it did not amount to heavy bickering or bribery. As he closed his eyes and waiting through the veterans, first class passengers, and then each number he wondered what he was going to see once in the cargo hold. There have been many bomb in his career, all easy to disarm and all roughly the same once you got through the external case holding all the wiring, but something seemed different this time. Perhaps it was the location – very odd for a bomb to be coming out of Florida – or the fact that his company seemed more cautious about giving him too many details about this particular mission, almost making certain he did not know particulars or even who would plant the thing in the first place. Normally he would at least know who was behind any attack on his home soil. On the other hand, he was probably thinking too much about the entire situation and should relax. Disarming bomb number 187 would be no different from the 186 that proceeded it.

——

​When Nick was first recruited to work for CNSP Incorporated he had just finished school at West Point with a goal to eventually join the CIA as an undercover operative, exploring the world while carrying out complicated assignments. The recruiter that approached him after graduation had told him that his dreams can become a reality with an even bigger paycheck if he were to work for their company instead of joining the military and enduring several years’ worth of deployments in potential war zones. Who wouldn’t say yes to possibly avoiding an early death in a foreign country fighting for something they might not actually believe in?

​His first week at the company was a mere introductory phase to get him used to the home office just outside of Washington D.C. and acquainted with the others who would be responsible for his real training. He could not even fathom what this real training would entail or what his job description actually was seeing as the recruiter was vague on certain key points. He asked several questions to which he got limited answers.

​“Who ultimately controls the company?”

​“An obscure branch of the government to which civilians are not privy. Hell, even the other branches know little to nothing about us or what we do.” Brian Roberts, the recruiter, looked nonplussed by the question.

​“And what is it that we do?” He knew he was a part of this now and there was no backing out.

​“When you acquire the skills we need that were not taught in any of your classes and are off in the field you will see firsthand what it is we do here and the driving factor behind this company.”

​“Not taught in my classes? What exactly are you requiring of me?”

​“Don’t fret Mr. Cummins. Simple tasks such as crowd control and bomb defusal.” Brian said this with a straight face and a calmness in his voice.

​“You call disarming a bomb simple!?” Nick was starting to regret accepting the position. He was only 21 and was promised a life free of war zones only to be places directly in death’s path. This was proving to be quite opposite of what he thought he was signing up for. Danger, yes, there certainly would be danger. He was an adventurous sort who loved to live life on the edge with minor exceptions including anything that involved a premature demise. So this news came as a shock to his mental, physical, and spiritual being.

​“Please remain calm.”

​“That is easy for you to say! You are not the one out in the field.” He was starting to get hysterical.

​“Mr. Cummins, before I was the recruiter you see before you I did work in the field doing the very job you so eagerly accepted.” Still, he maintained the serene demeanor.

​“Why aren’t you still out there?”

​“Old age I am afraid. My eyesight started to decline and with that certain colors, which makes finding the right wires a challenge. That, among other things. But in my career of 57 years I have defused over 650 bombs, saved several civilians and maybe even two countries.” Brian let out a slight sigh as if he was remembering all the days in the field with longing adoration.

​“Why have I never heard of you before?”

​“We are not allowed the recognition seeing as it would jeopardize the standing of not only this company but the government itself. Other countries are not aware of our existence and it has taken a lot to keep it that way.”

​“I see …” Nick had nothing left to ask. This was going to be as top secret as it got, more so than the CIA. He took a deep breath and submitted to the idea of this life. A smirk began to start in the left corner of his mouth as he realized the immense amount of enjoyment this career path would bring.

​The following week he delved head first into serious training. They expected him to be a functional field operative by the end of the year, and it was already August. He spend countless hours learning the inner workings of different types of explosives, foreign governments and their laws, and even started learning three new languages. Thankfully he had spent his time in school perfecting how to fully integrate the information he learned into his daily life whether it be history, math, or technical skills, useful or seemingly useless. Nick’s brain became a sponge for information and his comprehension speed was almost unheard of. At West Point there was only one rival, causing him to graduate second in his class but his rival was a certifiable genius and Nick could never understand why he chose a military academy over something more suited for his sheer brain power. The days went by slowly at first but as the leaves started to change from green to brilliant reds and yellows time seemed to move along at double the speed. Nick picked up Russian, German, and a small amount of Korean within two months. He could disarm a bomb in 28 seconds, seemingly running on autopilot throughout the process. By the time December rolled around he felt ready for any challenge placed in his path.

​As he sat in an empty conference room, watching a short film on a projector detailing what to expect once in the field – double agents and possible loss of limbs or life from explosions or gunshot wounds – Brian walked in and told him to prepare for his first mission.

​“I thought I was not scheduled to go out until next month.” Nick looked confused but relived at the same time.

​“The date has been moved up. We just lost an agent over in Germany during a routine operation and we need you now. I trust that you have confidence in your ability because I sure do.”

​“Confidence isn’t a problem,” Nick wavered a moment, “I’m … ready for this.”

​“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? I need you to be on board one hundred percent. No mistakes, or it may cost you your life.”

​“No, I AM ready!” Nick stood up and looked at Brian with a blank stare that did not reveal the inner turmoil. He was nervous but refused to show that to Brian for this is what he had been training for all these months. He was ready. He had to be whether he really was or not.

​“You have three hours to get a bag packed. Don’t weigh yourself down so only pack essentials. Meet me on the roof at the helipad when you are done.” Brian began to walk from the room.

​“Wait! Where am I going?”

​Brian turned around, hand on the doorknob still, “Germany, of course. You have to finish the job.” With that Brian walked out of the room, leaving Nick to finish the video.

​Nick tapped his foot on the floor rapidly during the last five minutes of the video, impatient to get up to the helipad to get some real answers. He was too nervous to ask anything other than where he was going and Brian seemed to move from the room as if on motorized sneakers.

​Nick was packed and on the helipad before the allotted three hours. He found an empty expanse before him and could hardly see the company grounds below for it was dark outside and there were no lights around. It was the first time he truly realized just how secluded he was from the rest of civilization. All the windows in the building had blackout curtains so no light came in from the outside and no light escaped. He could vaguely see the outline of the buildings surrounding him. Just as his vision started to adjust, the lights illuminating the helipad flickered on and he heard a door closing behind him with a sharp click.

​“The helicopter will take us to a small airstrip outside of Dulles where you will catch a charter to Germany,” came Brian’s calm voice.

​“I still don’t know what I am going to be doing there.”

​“You will be briefed on the mission once we are airborne. You will only know what is pertinent to you, nothing more. The other operatives in the field know you are coming so don’t be surprised if they call you by name. Please refrain from asking them any questions about their mission for theirs and yours are different. We certainly don’t need you getting side tracked on your first day out.”

​“Understood,” Nick sighed too lightly for Brian to notice.

​Off in the distance came the whir of the helicopter wings and with what seemed more speed than possible it landed on the helipad. Nick and Brian hopped inside and they were off again. Twenty minutes to Dulles and then aboard the charter. It all happened with such expediency. Nick was sweating and his stomach was in knots from the nerves and anticipation. Nerves from the entire scenario and the fact that a few short hours ago he was sitting in a conference room, watching a short training video, thinking he still had time on his side. Anticipation of getting to Germany, understanding the mission, and most of all putting the skills he had acquired in classes to practical use.

​He was not prepared.

​He was prepared.

​It did not matter anymore.

​Brian and Nick sat in the charter silent for the first hour while Nick took a series of deep breaths to try to calm his racing mind. When Nick opened his eyes, feigning some semblance of calm, Brian was staring straight at him, leaning forward with fingers like steeples pressed together under his chin and elbows resting on thighs. He had an air of genuine calm about him.

​I don’t understand how he can just be so calm. I guess that comes in time. Nick always thought of the world in time. Too much time. Not enough time. All good things come in time.

​“You understand that for decades the Germans have been working on bombs, right?” Brian finally said.

​“Yes,” was all that feebly came from Nick’s mouth.

​“This time they sort of got themselves into a bind. They were working on one particular bomb that would be impossible to disarm. The builder created a multi-layered defense mechanism, booby traps if you will. Our previous specialist was a savant of sorts but got caught up by one of the traps. A nail shot out from a secret compartment and impaled him in the left eye. Fortunately he is not dead but it did leave him in a lobotomized state, rendering him useless.”

​“I thought you said an agent died?”

​“No … I said we lost an agent. I never specified the details.”

​“So why is this one particular bomb so important?”

​“You don’t need to know the full details.”

​“But I need to know some at least!” Nick was starting to get irritated.

​“Very well,” Brian, still never wavering from his calm exterior, took a deep breath. “This particular bomb is located in the middle of a small town outside the capital. The blast radius is enough to affect the entire country and possibly the outlying regions of those surrounding. The builder died before he could tell his superior how to deactivate it to move it to an underground vault for safe keeping. You see, the builder left it active. Fortunately it does not have a timing mechanism. The group of Germans who have asked us help them in their little dilemma are allies and even personal friends of some of our operatives. We need you to deactivate it so that it can be moved. You will be saving lives.”

​“Oh…” Nick knew there must be more to all of this but he knew Brian was not going to tell him so he remained silent and contemplated this mission.

​Saving lives. I can do that. He finally started to feel calm.

​He was not prepared, but that one statement changed everything.

​He would always be prepared no matter what.

(to be continued ...)