Chapter Five: Ledger of Revelation

 

Lara sat in the passenger’s seat of her SUV during our trip to Pittsburgh. The car could drive itself, but I opted to sit in the driver’s seat just in case anything went wrong. As a vampire I only needed two hours of sleep per day, so I was not affected by the all-nighter we had pulled. I knew that my friends were in desperate need of rest. They had stayed up all night and had been running on pure adrenaline since the start of the zombie outbreak. Jasmine and Anthony had no trouble drifting off to sleep. We were in the middle of the apocalypse, but they were exhausted. They trusted me enough to let their guard down and rest. Lara, overcome by the departure of Reginald and the knowledge that millions of people were dying, had a harder time drifting off to sleep. She took my comforting hand when I offered it, but she continued to stare out the window and weep. It took forty-five minutes before she finally cried herself to sleep.

What’s His Face and What’s Her Face stayed awake with me during the journey. They had gotten a full night’s sleep before the outbreak started, and they were both too terrified to close their eyes. We did not have a conversation during the trip so as not to disturb our sleeping comrades, but I used the rearview mirror to sneak glances at the couple during the car ride. The husband, who had not abandoned his fear of horror clichés, looked terribly uncomfortable to be in the car with us. He kept his arms folded for most of the trip and stared at the back of Lara’s seat like it owed him money. The close quarters certainly added to his discomfort. There were four people crammed into a back seat that was only meant for three. He had chivalrously given his wife the window seat, but that meant that he was wedged next to Anthony. My nerdy friend had drifted off to sleep immediately and unknowingly used What’s His Face’s shoulder as a pillow.

The wife spent most of the journey staring out the window in silence. Typically it would have been a boring road trip that lasted four hours, but there was plenty to see on our drive from Baltimore to Pittsburgh. We were far from any populated areas, but there were still plenty of people on the road. Traffic was light enough that we should have made pretty good time, particularly since I did not have to worry about being pulled over by the highway patrol for speeding. Law enforcement had much bigger things to worry about now. We were slowed down by a number of accidents though. I only saw a handful of zombies on the highway, and I assumed that most of the collisions had been caused by panicking living people. They had been in such a hurry to flee the urban centers that they totaled their vehicles and got themselves stranded in the middle of nowhere. They waved their arms frantically and begged passing motorists to give them a lift. Their pleas usually fell on deaf ears. My stomach churned every time I passed a stranded survivor, but there was nothing that I could do. Our SUV was already full, and we had to worry about the big picture.

We stayed on the highway, but we got a reminder of the horrible events that were happening every time we passed a small town. The distinctive sound of gunfire was impossible to miss. I could not hear the screaming through the rolled up windows, but I knew it was there. The information that wood in the heart was the only effective way to take down the zombies had been spread. In the age of technology, I knew that most of the people who were still alive had learned that bullets were ineffective. I was not surprised by the volume of gunfire that I heard though. Firearms were easy to find in the United States, but crossbows were a much rarer commodity.

The trip took seven hours because of the chaos on the roads. What’s Her Face checked her smart phone periodically during that time to get news updates. I did not have to ask her what was happening. The look on her face told me that the information was grim. The gunshots, foolish motorists and dead bodies we encountered during the journey made it seem that all of humanity was already doomed. I knew that was not accurate though. The urban centers had been devastated, but human beings were not that easy to exterminate. The smart ones were not fighting in the cities or fleeing on the highway without any destination or plan in mind. The people who kept their heads were retreating to the wilderness. They were stocking up on weapons that would work and organizing with their neighbors to fight the menace. They had joked about what to do during a zombie apocalypse with their friends late on Saturday nights. They had watched horror movies, criticized the stupid characters in them and thought about what they would do in such an unlikely scenario. People were dying, but the strongest and smartest members of the species would not be killed on the first day of the terrible plague. Humanity was on the ropes, but we had not been knocked out.

I turned off the SUV’s automation system as the car exited the highway well east of Pittsburgh. The car was programmed to maneuver around obstacles, but it also was designed to stop if there was a pedestrian in its path. Its strict adherence to Isaac Asimov’s first law of robotics was usually a good thing, but the automation program could not understand the new world in which we were living. I was not hindered by any such morality, and I was perfectly willing to run down the undead who were in my way. As it turned out, I was not forced to dirty Lara’s white SUV with red zombie blood. Downtown Pittsburgh, like every major city, was no doubt a nightmare, but our destination was well outside of town. The area had a lot of empty fields and only a handful of buildings. It was an industrial zone rather than residential, and few people had been dedicated enough to stay at work once news of the outbreak spread. I passed only a handful of zombies as I followed the GPS’s instructions.

My sleeping friends started to wake up once we got off the highway. What’s Her Face filled them in on the latest news, but the casualty reports came as no surprise. The sun was setting below the horizon when we finally reached our destination. All the streetlights on the road had been working, and the other buildings in the area were illuminated as well. The power had not been knocked out yet, but for some reason the Bubble Pack factory was completely dark. The GPS indicated that it was only a moderately sized building, but it seemed ominous and foreboding given that most of the facade was dark. I hopped out of the car and headed for the duffel bags in the trunk as everyone else disembarked. I retrieved the flashlights and crossbows I had acquired from the sporting goods store and handed them out to the group. I opted not to take a flashlight for myself since I could see perfectly well in the dark.

My friends seemed refreshed after their naps. Lara was still upset, but even she had regained her composure. My friends were terrified, but they had plenty of experience with life-threatening situations. The two newest members of our group were not handling themselves nearly as well. What’s Her Face was breathing heavily and shifting her eyes back and forth. She gripped the flashlight in her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her husband was no more confident despite the fact that he was armed with a crossbow. The area in front of the factory’s main entrance was quiet, but he looked like he expected to see a horde of zombies jump out at any minute.

“This building seems to be abandoned. It doesn’t look like there is anyone here living or dead,” I said. “Our new friends can stay out front near the car while the rest of us go inside, split up and look for information.”

“No!” five people screamed at me simultaneously.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Jasmine added.

“Have you never seen a horror movie before?” Anthony said.

“Hum, do I want to run into a zombie alone with only a flashlight to defend myself?” What’s Her Face started sarcastically. “Or do I want to stay right next to the super powerful, vampire killing machine? Gee, that’s a tough choice.”

I thought the rest of the group was overreacting, but I could understand their trepidation. I led the way inside the factory while the rest of them followed in a tight formation. That is to say a very tight formation. They were shoulder to shoulder directly behind me and packed so tightly that they had to shuffle their feet in order to move forward. Beams of light cut through the darkness as my comrades used their flashlights to do a thorough inspection of the large room we entered. There were a number of heavy pieces of machinery, and my friends were convinced that a zombie was going to pop out from behind each one. They let out a sigh of relief a moment later when I found a control panel on the wall and activated the lights. They were still on edge even after the darkness was removed from the equation, but they loosened up a little as we walked towards the double doors at the far side of the room.

“Thank God the power still works,” What’s Her Face declared. “This place is creepy enough as it is, and I don’t think I could possibly... Oh! Bubble Wrap!”

The young woman dashed forward as we passed through the double doors and found ourselves in a large warehouse. There were boxes stacked all over the place, but apparently she forgot that she was worried about zombies jumping out at her. The rest of my friends followed suit and joined her next to the three large spools of packaging that were directly ahead of us. Tiny popping noises echoed off the walls as the five of them started squeezing the bubbles between their thumbs and forefingers. I shook my head at the childish behavior as the rest of my group laughed and smiled at each other.

“It’s Bubble Pack, remember? This is a similar product, but it is absolutely, positively not the trademarked brand name Bubble Wrap,” I said. “I never understood the obsession with popping this stuff. Maybe it’s because it was invented centuries after I was born so I never got to play with it as a kid.”

“You’re missing out,” What’s Her Face said without turning away from the packaging material. “This stuff is, like, the ultimate stress relief. It’s better than sex!”

What’s His Face stopped popping the Bubble Pack and glared at his wife. “Hey!”

“All right, you’ve had your fun. We need to start investigating Mr. X now,” I said. I grunted in irritation as the others ignored me and continued the annoying activity. “Okay, you guys can stay here. The guy with superhuman strength who can easily kill zombies is going to go look for an office though.”

The others snapped back to reality after being threatened with the loss of their security. What’s Her Face gave me an irritated look, tore off a section of packaging from the spool and reluctantly fell back into formation. She popped a bubble every few seconds as the group moved forward.

Despite their fears, we only found one zombie during our search of the Bubble Pack factory. He was a middle-aged man wearing a dress shirt and a cheap tie but no coat. Another zombie cliché was broken as the man did not jump out of hiding to attack. As it turned out, we saw him long before he saw us. There were two offices in the back of the warehouse at the top of a flight of stairs. They both had large windows, presumably so the managers could look down at the activity on the floor. The zombie man got riled up and threw himself against the glass after we climbed the stairs. The entrance to the office was closed, so we took a moment to stand and inspect the creature.

“He’s contained,” Anthony commented. A smile formed on his lips before he continued. “Unless they figure out how to open up doors.”

What’s His Face snapped his fingers and nodded his head. “Jurassic Park. I get that reference.”

I ignored the two men as I inspected the zombie manager. “His skin isn’t decomposing like all the other zombies. He looks more like the ones I saw in Georgetown last night. In fact,” I said before leaning to my left to get a better look at the zombie’s back. “He doesn’t seem to have any flesh wounds either. It’s like... he wasn’t bitten. Come on, let’s check out the unoccupied office.”

The exciting days of searching physical files for information had long since passed. It was a digital world, which meant that our hunt for the next clue could only be performed by one of us. Anthony opted to sit down in the chair behind the computer given his skill with the devices. As it turned out, it was lucky that we had the computer whiz along. The encryption we found on the computer was more suited for the National Security Agency than a small Bubble Pack company. Anthony was a genius, but it took him an hour to hack into the system. My anticipation grew with every passing minute. The excessive computer security reassured me that we were on the right path.

Anthony threw his balled fists into the air in triumph. “Got it! I have access to their shipping records.”

The thrill of his accomplishment was short-lived. He backed away from the desk a moment later as What’s Her Face dashed forward and dropped to her knees in front of the small trash can. Her back arched as she unloaded an impressive amount of vomit into the trash can. As a doctor, I was not disgusted by the sight of someone throwing up. Her husband and I helped her to her feet as Anthony reluctantly returned to the computer.

What’s Her Face shook her head dismissively and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m fine,” she said in embarrassment. “I’ve felt queasy since we got here. It must be all the stress.”

“You haven’t eaten and you’re running on adrenaline,” Lara explained. “There’s a break room right downstairs. Go down and get something bland for her to eat, or see if you can find some crackers in a vending machine,” she suggested to What’s His Face.

I thought about the unusual characteristics I had seen the zombies in Baltimore display as I watched the young couple exit the office. “That’s not a bad idea,” I muttered. “I think I could go for a snack too.”

Jasmine shot my granddaughter a concerned look. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she complained. “He’s using his suspicious voice.”

“You just fed off Caleb yesterday,” Lara objected. She and Jasmine jogged to keep up with me as I left the office and headed next door. “You shouldn’t need to eat again for at least a... oh, shit,” she said as realization struck. “Nick, this is a bad idea. I don’t know what harebrained theory you’re try to prove, but this is not the way—”

I paused in front of the closed door to the other office. “I’m immune,” I reminded her. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly have the time for a controlled scientific study. We need answers and we need them now.”

My female friends objected, but they were wise enough not to follow me inside the other office. They watched through the window as I entered the room. The zombie manager had no interest in me, but he seemed excited that he now had an avenue to escape. He only made it one step towards the door. I grabbed him by the hair, positioned myself behind him and sank my fangs into his neck. The zombie showed no indication that he was in pain or that he even noticed the odd turn of events. My attack did not last long. In normal circumstances I would have been consumed by bloodlust as soon as the sweet taste of human blood hit my lips. I would have spent twenty minutes draining the man, and it would have been impossible for me to disengage from my victim. The taste in my mouth was familiar, but it was not pleasant. I broke away from the zombie’s neck and spat the foul-tasting liquid onto the ground. I staked the zombie manager through the heart before rejoining Jasmine and Lara. Given what I had seen in Baltimore, none of us were shocked by the outcome of the experiment. Lara and I were specialists, but even Jasmine knew enough about my physiology to have put the pieces together.

“It must be a mutation,” Lara said in denial. “It has happened before. It could be like the weaker virus that the Nazis were using to create vampires during the war.”

I shook my head. “I knew the truth as soon as I saw the zombies drinking the blood of their victim. This isn’t something like the vampire virus. It is the vampire virus. It tastes exactly the same as the vampire blood that I’ve had the misfortune of having in my mouth over the years,” I concluded. I ran my tongue over my lip and mopped up a drop of the vile blood. I winced before swallowing it. “Although... that’s not the only thing in this man’s blood. It’s subtle, barely noticeable given the horrible taste that the vampire virus causes, but there’s something else here too.”

“It can’t be the vampire virus,” Lara argued. “That disease can heal, but it can’t reanimate the dead. Besides, the vampire virus just isn’t that versatile. One bite would not be enough to infect a healthy human being. You know the ritual involved in turning someone into a vampire better than anyone. The body has to be weakened by extreme blood loss before the virus has a chance to infiltrate and multiply.”

“Guys,” Anthony said as he exited the other office and joined us. “This is huge. I had never heard of them before, but apparently Bubble Pack is a global corporation. They’ve got a dozen plants all over the world, and their packaging is used in just about everything. FedEx, UPS and the postal service all use their product. There’s no information in their system about zombies or their mysterious owner, but it was pretty obvious what their plan was. A number of their recent shipments are marked with an asterisk. At least one of the special delivers went to every major city in the world. They were all delivered at the same time and the same date except for one. I don’t know if it was intentional or a clerical error, but a single box of Bubble Pack was shipped out twelve hours early. Its destination was an office supply store... near Georgetown University.”

“The vampire virus couldn’t be weaponized, it’s not airborne,” Lara objected. The color drained from her face as she thought more about what Anthony had just revealed. “But something else is. Someone created a biological weapon that combines the vampire virus with something else, just like how my team created extraterrestrial Ebola to attack the aliens by combining sloth syphilis and aardvark flu. Bubble Pack would be the perfect delivery system for the unknown virus. That’s why the outbreaks appeared everywhere at once! It’s a worldwide cultural phenomenon. As soon as you get a package, the first thing you do is pop the...”

Lara’s eyes went wide. My friends darted down the stairs after I chose a more direct route. I winced at the pain in my ankle after making the fifteen-foot jump, but it quickly subsided. My concerns were confirmed when I barreled into the break room. What’s Her Face was motionless on the floor. Her husband, who had been shaking her shoulder, looked up at me with concern.

“She just collapsed,” What’s His Face explained. “She said she had a fever and she felt dizzy, but then—”

“Get away from her!” Jasmine, who was still running to catch up, screamed.

What’s His Face’s face showed his confusion. He was focused on our peculiar actions, so he did not notice when his wife lifted her head off the ground. I dashed towards their position with superhuman speed and just barely got there in time. Her mouth was almost to his shoulder when I shoved him out of the way. Given my concern, I pushed him a little harder than was necessary. He slid across the break room’s tiles and grunted as he slammed into a nearby vending machine. What’s His Face was about to lodge a protest when he finally got a look at his wife. I was holding her down with my left hand, but she was struggling against my grip. She lifted her head off the ground and focused on her husband. Her mouth snapped open and shut as she let out an irritated groan.

“I’m sorry,” I said to What’s His Face.

I plunged a stake into the chest of the recently turned zombie. She was dead instantly, and her head slammed down against the floor of the break room. What’s His Face cried out in anguish, pushed away from the vending machine and attempted to crawl towards his wife’s body. Jasmine was quick to intervene. He was distraught and hysterical, and he fought tenaciously to get to his fallen love, but he was no match for the veteran cop. Jasmine subdued the poor man like he was one of the many drug dealers she had busted over the years. She twisted his arm and pressed her knee against his back until he finally stopped struggling. She stood up, and the rest of us gathered around him and exchanged sad looks as we watched him weep.

“She was the only one who turned,” Jasmine whispered so as not to disturb the grieving man. “We all popped that Bubble Pack. Shouldn’t we all have been exposed to the virus?”

Lara knelt down and rubbed What’s His Face’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. On any other day I wouldn’t think to bother you, but I’m afraid we need information. Your wife is the key to figuring out this plague. You may be able to save a lot of people from having to suffer the way you are right now. Can you think of anything that’s different about your wife?”

What’s His Face took a few deep breaths and struggled to regain his composure. He flipped himself over and sat cross-legged like an elementary school student. He stared down at the floor and sniffled before looking up at Lara. “Different?” he asked.

“Anything about her that would explain why she was affected by the virus when the rest of us weren’t,” Lara clarified. “Is there anything unusual about her health history? Does she have any conditions like diabetes or... anemia or... a gluten allergy?”

What’s His Face shook his head. “No, nothing like that. My darling What’s Her Face was always very healthy. Hell, she was obsessed with staying in good shape. She exercised, she ate a vegan diet... she even got the vampire virus vaccine just to be on the safe side. Her doctor said it was a waste of money, but she always said it was better to be safe than... what?”

Lara’s face flushed red. She let out a guttural noise that was far more disturbing than anything I had heard from any of the zombies. She stood up with balled fists, walked to the nearest table and grabbed a chair with both hands. My granddaughter shrieked and tossed the chair like a discus thrower. She was not particularly athletic, but she put enough force behind the piece of furniture to send it crashing into the wall about five feet from Anthony. The young man nodded at his girlfriend, and the two of them wisely chose to move to a different part of the break room that was not in the line of fire. Lara screeched again and tossed another chair at the wall. I stepped in her way while she was executing her third attack. I snatched the chair out of midair and set it down on the ground. I had seen her throw a similar tantrum once before, and I knew she could continue until she wore herself out. I grabbed her arms and pinned them to her side.

“Calm down,” I made the mistake of saying.

Lara’s eyes grew wide as she struggled against my grip. “Calm down?” she screamed, sending spittle into my face. “Calm down! They used my vaccine! That’s how they infected people with the vampire virus half of this biological weapon! The zombie virus by itself wouldn’t be enough in this day and age. The undead aren’t much of a threat when a simple headshot can kill them, but the healing properties of the vampire virus makes them almost indestructible. They twisted my creation! Millions... billions of people are dead,” she said. In an instant her anger changed to sorrow. Tears started streaming down her face. “They’re dead because of me.”

“Oh, shit!” Anthony interrupted. He had walked near to What’s Her Face in order to avoid Lara’s projectiles, and he was staring down at the zombie’s body. “Look at her stomach. I think she’s pregnant!”

“What?” What’s His Face asked in between sniffles. “Oh, no. She’s just lactose intolerant. The cheese crackers that she ate really made her bloat up.”

“Thank God,” Anthony sighed in relief. “A zombie baby would be way over the top. It’s like those horror movies that do something really disturbing just for shock value. It’s like they think dead adults aren’t good enough.”

Jasmine smacked her boyfriend with the back of her hand and jerked her head at the grieving widower. Anthony sucked air through his teeth as he realized how insensitive he was being.

I barely paid attention to my friend’s crass comment. Lara and What’s His Face were in pain, but I had more pressing concerns than comforting the members of my group. The trip to the Bubble Pack factory had been enlightening to say the least, but it had not answered all of the big questions. I released my grip on Lara since she no longer looked like she wanted to destroy the break room. My granddaughter collapsed into one of the chairs and buried her face in her hands. I paced around the room for a moment as I thought before finally coming to a stop above What’s Her Face’s corpse. I stared down at her body, but my mind was elsewhere.

“We know now that the zombie outbreak wasn’t some random event. This was the result of what must have been years of careful planning and coordination,” I reasoned. “Who would know enough about the vampire virus to be able to alter it and combine it with a secret virus that no one has ever seen before?” I asked myself out loud. “Who would have the patience and resourcefulness to orchestrate this monumental undertaking and keep it hidden? Who would place such little value on human life that they would unleash a plague that could wipe out our entire... Fuck!”

The four-letter word echoed off the walls of the break room. It was so loud that everyone in the group forgot about their embarrassment, guilt or recently deceased spouse and whipped their heads around to look at me. I had tried to calm Lara down only a moment earlier, but now I knew how she felt. I had been hit by the overwhelming force of my realization. It was so obvious that I cursed my stupidity for not reaching the conclusion earlier. I stood in place and balled my hands so tightly that my fingernails cut into the palms of my hands. Blood trickled out of my fists and dripped onto the ground. I did not notice the pain. I stood there for a moment, frozen in rage as my mind raced.

“Nick?” Jasmine asked after a moment. She slowly stepped towards me and put her hand on top of mine. “What is it?”

“Hitler... lives.”