Chapter 14
The Russian sat at the computer. Smiling quite an ugly smile. He enjoyed getting under Jacks skin.
He removed the patches from his head that ran into a nearby computer that matched his brainwaves to Jacks.
He also removed a small chip from behind his ear, so small that if you didn't know it was there, then you would never find out.
This chip, this little tiny piece of equipment had the power to invade the mind. The person who had the master chip held the cards, they had control of the others subconscious.
The Russian had stuck the other end onto Jack, just before leaving him to the undead and the fire.
He smiled. Oh how great it would've been to know he was either burned or eaten alive.
He stares at the wall in the dark room. The only light coming from the now white computer screen. A knock comes from the door.
"What?" He says, disappointed that someone had ruined the serenity of the moment.
The door creaks open and a sliver of light is let into the room, "it's time for the daily check up, Vladim."
The Russian cringed, he hated his name. It sounded so weak, so feeble, unlike him.
"Very well." He stood from the chair and opened the door fully. Their sat the scientist in the wheel chair, the American. Goodman, they called him.
"How are you feeling, Vladim?" Goodman asked on the way to the lab?
"How do you say in American? Like a million bucks?" The Russian asked.
"Yes, like a million bucks." Confirmed Goodman. As they reached the door to the lab Goodman entered the code to the door. No one but him and a few other select scientists knew the code.
The door beeped the confirmation code and the hydraulics pulled the door open. The American wheeled himself into the lab and to a desk. "Have a seat on the bed." He said, nodding towards it.
The Russian took a seat. Goodman punched a few keys on the keyboard and rolled over to the Russian.
"Any signs of Rigor Mortis?" The American asks, looking at the slits on the Russians wrists.
The only way for his version of the virus to work was he had to be dead before it was introduced. He had to slit his wrists and die from blood loss. A slow and painful death.
"No." Is all he said.
"Any loss of motor functions, or trouble speaking?"
"No."
"Then all seems to be order. You may leave now." Said Goodman, a smile crossing his lips.
The Russian walks to the door, but is stopped by the voice of the American scientist. "We're still good on our deal, right?" He asked.
The Russian looked at the door and smiled, "of course." He opened the door and walked into the hallway.
...
You know when you're laying in bed and on the verge of falling asleep but you feel like you're falling so you snap awake? Yeah, that's what just happened to me.
I snatched the sheets in a firm grasp, hoping they'd save me from certain death. I slowly let them go realizing that I'm still in bed and not falling through darkness.
The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom and turn the light on.
Bags are forming under my eyes, and my facial hair is starting to look ridiculous, it's getting to long. I slip into my clothes. My ribs still have a stinging pain but it's not as bad as it was yesterday.
I strap my holster to my belt and sling my AR over my shoulder. I reach in my pocket and pull out Dale's badge.
I sit on the edge of the bed and look back on all of our memories. A smile comes across my face, remembering all our good times. A single tear rolls down my cheek and finds purchase on my jawline until it falls and splatters on the carpet.
Alyx rolls and sits up. "Good morning," she says, rubbing the grogginess from her eyes.
"Good morning," I say back, putting the badge back into my pocket and standing up. "Today we start lessons on shooting." I say, walking to the door. "Starts in fifteen minutes." She sighs and rolls out of bed.
I open the door and step outside, the cool Virginian air a relief to the stuffiness of the motel room. I stretch in the morning light and greet Terry, who is already outside sitting in a lawn chair.
I tell him to to tell the rest that training starts in fifteen minutes. He stands and goes to their rooms. I walk to the forest behind the motel and within seconds find an opening perfect for a gun range. It spans about 20 yards with a width of about 12.
Behind the motel is a plethora of bottles and cans piled by a dumpster. I take six bottles and walk them down range and sit them on an overturned log.
As I'm walking back the others are just coming into the clearing. Yawning and stretching.
"Good morning, team. Today I'm going to teach you how to shoot. Now, the noise will attract unwanted visitors, but that's okay, you'll have to practice on moving targets also. But, for now, we practice on these bottles." I say, explaining the situation.
I align them in a firing line and show them the proper way to shoulder their weapons. Everyone bedsides Cassie requires help.
I also show everyone where the safety is located on their gun. Once they have the gist of it I stand in front of them, "watch, like this," I say, shouldering my AR.
"Take a deep breath," I say, explaining my technique, "visualize the bullet hitting your target and on a single exhale squeeze the trigger." A sharp crack of gunfire pierces the air as I compress the trigger and the AR fires a single round into the air. The bottle shatters down range.
I turn around, everyone looks at me, "now, you try." I move out of the way and the pops and cracks of gunfire tear through the air.
Cassie hits her bottle on the first shot and smiles at me, I give her a wink. Terry and Devin both hit theirs on the third shot and Alyx hits hers on the fifth. Cassandra seems to be having trouble so I walk over to her.
"Here, try this," I say, I bring her hand towards the end of grip to stabilize her aim, I bring the gun further inwards to reduce the kick. "Now, give it a shot."
She inhales and on the exhale pulls the trigger. Down range the bottle explodes. Everyone claps, congratulating her.
Training continues uninterrupted for the next three hours. Every one can hit the bottles in at least two shots. But the bottles remain still a zombie or a person won't stand still.
"Alright everyone, take a break." I say, and we find a nearby shade tree.
"You guys have come far in just a few short days. I'm really proud of you all." I say, congratulating them. "But Charleston will no doubt have trained killers. Let me do the heavy work, you guys just need to provide cover fire and watch your asses."
Everyone nods, "not that I don't trust you guys, it's just that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to any of you." I say.
"Nothing is going to happen to us, Jack," says Terry, a determined smile crossing his face.
"I like that attitude, Terry, keep it up." I say, a genuine smile forming.
Rustling in the leaves makes me snap my head backwards. "Here's our guests." I say and stand as a dozen zombies break the line of the trees.
"Alright everyone, remember your training." Everyone stands and shoulders their weapons just like I showed them.
Cassie, as always, hits her target on the first shot and the zombie drops, half of its head disintegrated from the pellets of her shotgun.
Cassandra, surprisingly, hits hers on the second shot. The zombie falls, a bullet sized hole in its head above its right eye.
Terry hits his on the third shot and lowers his gun, smiling. Alyx and Devin both hit their target on the fourth shot.
Seven of the undead remain, "okay, everyone but Cassie, try again." I say.
They raise their guns and Cassandra hits on the second shot again. Alyx hits on the first and Terry and Devin also hit on the second.
"Okay, Alyx step back." I say, " now the last three are yours," I say to Terry, Devin and Cassandra. On the first shot they hit their target.
"Bravo, you guys learn fast, I'm very proud of you all. Now, let's find something to eat around..." more rustling catches my attention.
"Shit." I say as around three dozen of the undead tear through the tree line, more rabids than regular zombies.
They tear across the clearing fast. "Everyone get in a firing line!" I say over the screeches of the undead.
I drop to a knee and switch the AR to single shot. In seconds I have the shot for the first of the undead lined up. I shoot and its head explodes. The 5.56 round tearing through its flesh.
Gunfire opens up around me, everyone sending bullets into the horde of the undead but none of their bullets are connecting. "Focus! Keep calm and control your fire!" I scream over the gunfire.
The horde advances and a rabid jumps at me. I roll to the left, ignoring the shooting pain in my ribs and shoot the creature in the back of the head.
A splitting headache erupts somewhere deep within my head, a voice, with a Russian accent, very faint but definitely there, says, "shoot him."
Something is wrong. Very wrong. I can't control my body, it's like someone put it into auto pilot and I don't know how to turn it off.
My arms shoulder the AR and aim down the sights towards Devin. What the fuck is happening?" I think to myself. Devin has no idea, he continues shooting at the undead. My finger tightens around the trigger. I try my hardest to remove it but it's just not working.
"Pull the trigger." The voice says and the muscles in my finger tense and pull the trigger back. The warrior in me screams a bloody scream, nearly shredding its vocal cords.
...
The Russian sits in the dark room, in front of the computer screen, the chip behind his ear and the patches on his his head. Images displayed on the screen are exactly what Jack is seeing in real time.
The regular undead, and the ones called mutation 34, the fast, four-legged ones. Jack had only scratched the surface of all of the mutations, there were many, many more. The Russian thought to himself.
"Shoot him." He whispered. On the screen, through Jacks eyes, he seen Jack raise the gun. On another monster he seen Jacks brain waves spike, he was fighting it, but losing.
Jack struggled, "pull the trigger," the Russian whispered.
Jacks brain waves rose even higher, a scream tore through the Russians mind, a primal scream, something that was ready to kill. It felt as if the Russians brain was going to split down the middle. He tried to withstand it, but the scream grew, striking terror into the Russians heart.
He ripped the patches from his head and the screens went white. He sat there, staring into the whiteness, breathing heavily and sweat beading on his brow.
"What the fuck was that?" He said to himself, struggling to regain composure.
...
At the very last second, I regained control and released the trigger. What the fuck was that? I think to myself. I pivot to the right and fire down the range at the remaining undead.
Their bodies fall as bullets penetrate their heads. As the last of them fall I stand. "Good job, team." I say, walking over to them.
Everyone is breathing heavily and struggling to smile.
The sun sits high in the sky. "What do you guys think we should do, stay another night, or hit the road?" I ask
A collective "stay another night," comes from the crowd.
"Well, okay," I say, beginning to walk back to the hotel.
The Russian speaks to me, "you're a strong one. I like that," he says, before falling silent.
What the fuck?