Jane Zombie Chronicles (Book 4): Crisis Cell

  Crisis Cell

  Jane Zombie Chronicles

  Book 4

  Gayle Katz

  In Your Face Publishers

  Blue Bell, PA

  Copyright © 2018 Gayle Katz

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the author. For permissions contact:

  gayle@gaylekatz.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit the author’s website at GayleKatz.com

  Table of Contents

  ________________________________________

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

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  Chapter 1

  ________________________________________

  It’s a typical day.

  I come home from work. Feed and walk Rocky. Eat something. A little keyed up from the week, I decide to make myself chamomile tea. I take my steaming cup of relaxation and head straight to the bedroom. Putting a coaster down on the nightstand and setting the hot tea on top, I stare at the bed. I forgot to mention that Jack is on assignment. Again. Another zombie outbreak. Another high-profile story. Another week without Jack.

  Sigh.

  With the exception of Rocky, Jack’s side of the bed hasn’t been slept in for a few days now, and I imagine it’ll be at least another few days before he’s back by my side. Needless to say, I’m not a fan of his assignments. They’re dangerous. I don’t care how much these corrupt governments around the world and their shady officials insist their outbreaks are contained. They’re not. Not one bit. When zombies are around, all you can reliably predict is chaos and death.

  Sighing again, I roll back the covers and fluff the pillows. Just as I slip under the sheets to enjoy a sip of tea, Rocky the dog hops onto the bed. As I pet his furry head to thank him for being the best dog ever, the phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  It’s Jack. “Hey, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Not at all. I was hoping you’d call. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “I know you hate when I ask, but when are you coming home?”

  “I can’t tell you exactly, but soon,” he says. “I shouldn’t even be calling you right now, but I wanted to let you know I’m alive and well. I’m getting close to figuring out why this area is having so many zombie outbreaks.”

  “That’s great and all, but where the hell are you anyway?”

  “We already went over this, baby. You know I can’t share specifics yet.”

  “Yeah. I know, but don’t forget it’s dangerous over there. I shouldn’t have to remind you we almost died in Scarlet Peak not too long ago. You’re not invincible.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Are you listening to me? Just because you’ve ‘been there, done that’ doesn’t mean you’re immune to this zombie crap.”

  “Yes. Zombies. Dangerous.” I could almost hear his eyes rolling.

  “I’m not kidding. It’s not a joke,” I insist in a near panic. “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Yes, I hear you. I hear you. Everything is gonna be fine,” he says.

  “You need to come home. Rocky can’t sleep without you.”

  “You mean you can’t sleep without me. I’m sure Rocky is doing just fine.”

  “Just come home, OK?”

  “I need to chase the details a little longer and then I’ll have everything I need for my story. Don’t worry. Everything will be OK. I promise.”

  “Just hurry up. Please. I’m begging you,” I say, doing my best to express just how much I miss him over the phone.

  “I’m working on it. Don’t stress so much. I can handle it.”

  “Handle what? Zombie outbreaks can’t be handled. Haven’t you learned that lesson by now?”

  “Jane.”

  “What?”

  “You gotta relax.”

  “Just get your ass home, all right?”

  “I hear ya. Really, I do. Stop worrying. Get some sleep. My day is just starting here. I gotta hustle and get stuff done.”

  “Be careful. Please.”

  “I will. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. Still holding the phone in my hand, I hear the dial tone blaring in my ear.

  Jack has been gone for a couple long days now. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know when he’s coming back. Not knowing is the hardest part. It’s driving me crazy.

  Since we were infected by the zombie virus and miraculously cured back in Scarlet Peak, Jack has made it his personal and professional mission to shed light on the outbreaks around the world. He seems to think that reporting on it and taking pictures of the dismembered bodies and devastation will compel the people in power to take action. So he’s halfway around the world somewhere doing just that—tracking down zombie outbreak stories. He wants everyone to work together to eliminate this plague and save lives. If you ignore what the governments say and only pay attention to what they do, it seems like they prefer to let the zombie virus spread. It’s probably more cost effective to just kill the people who turn instead of getting a cure out there. Jack doesn’t like that. Neither do I.

  I know he feels as if he has a higher calling now, but I’m getting antsy without him. He thinks he’s going to save the world, and maybe he will, but I need him more. I need him here with me. Sometimes it seems as though he forgets that.

  Stressed knowing Jack is probably in harm’s way and there’s nothing I can do about it, I take a sip of tea, pet Rocky again, and start reading my book. I need to decompress and take my mind off of Jack before I call it a night.

  As the minutes tick away, I finish my tea. I feel a yawn brewing, but I continue reading until my eyelids get heavy and the book falls from my hand.

  ***

  I open my eyes and I see Jack. I’m so excited. He’s home! I run over and throw my arms around him. After embracing for a few moments, I smell a familiar scent and notice he’s changed a little. I step back to get another look at him and try to figure out what’s wrong.

  “Jane, why did you do this to me?” He’s just standing there, showing himself to me. “You turned me into a goddamn zombie,” he hisses.

  “Wh-what? I-I didn’t mean to bite you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I reply. I feel something sticky on my face. I wipe at it with my hand. It’s blood. I look down at my fingers and begin to comprehend what happened.

  “You have my blood on your hands,” he says. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I-I do love you, with all my heart. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  I see him changing before my eyes. My heart sinks and tears well up in my eyes as his skin turns a pale white color. His eyes begin to recede into his head and darken to a morbid blue black. I reach out for him, but he pulls away and turns his back on me.

  “Don’t leave me, Jack. Don’t leave me,” I shout, my voice breaking.

  He keeps walking away in a stumbling gait. He doesn’t even turn around, despite my screams for him to stop. I’m not going to let him walk out of my life so easily. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him. The doctors cured me of the zombie virus. They can cure him, too.

  I run up behind him, grab him by the shoulder, and try to continue the conversation. He growls like a rabid dog and shrugs me off.

  “Come with me. The doctors can fix you, like they did with me.” I show him my old bite mark scar from the client who bit me at the local TV station where we used to work in Scarlet Peak. “You remember, right?”

  He keeps lurching away and doesn’t bother to look at me. I tug on his right arm, but it doesn’t matter. He keeps slogging away, but this time his arm tears off at the joint where it connects with his shoulder. The only thing now holding his arm in place is his shirt and suit. The arm goes limp in my hand. It just dangles by his side. Is he too far gone now?

  If I can’t help him, that doesn’t mean we can’t be together. We were married in life. We can be together forever in death. Still by his side, I catch up and continue to walk next to him.

  “Fine. You don’t want to get the cure?
I love you so much I’m willing to die for you. Bite me. Bite me and we can be together again.” I hold out my arm in front of his face. “Go ahead! Feed!”

  Nothing. No response.

  “Jack! Do you hear me?”

  He stops. Looks at my arm. Looks at me. I catch his glance and we stare into each other’s eyes. For just a moment, I think that maybe my Jack isn’t dead. Maybe some little part of him still lives in this shell of a human being.

  Then, in a split second, he breaks off his stare, turns back to my arm, and sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of my forearm. Blood spurts everywhere from the pressure of his teeth breaking my skin, but there’s no pain. That’s strange. I expect pain, intense pain, but there isn’t any.

  Jack tears the flesh from my arm, leaving a gaping hole in its place. I grab it and try to stop the bleeding, but there’s too much blood. I touch the wound and feel something hard. I think I’m going to be sick. It’s bone. He bit down to the bone? Blood is pouring out of my arm. I feel faint and fall to the ground. I look up and see Jack coming around for a second pass.

  I put my hands up to block him. “Jack!” I scream. “No! No! No! What are you doing?”

  He ignores my pleas and drops to his knees. While he’s on top of me, I smell my blood on his breath as he revels in his fresh kill. My stomach turns. I can’t get away. He’s going straight for my neck next. He’s going to bite me again. He’s going to kill me. He doesn’t want to be together. He’s just hungry. And I’m his dinner. He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember us. He’s not my Jack anymore.

  Crying and still holding my bleeding arm, I try to fend him off, but I’m unable to break his grasp. His putrid, rotten teeth come closer to my face. I can’t watch. I close my eyes and prepare for my punishment. “Ahhhhh!”

  The horrible visions startle me awake. My eyes pop open. I’m breathing heavy. My heart is beating out of my chest. My brow is sweaty. Hell, I’m in a pool of my own juices. I sit up, look around, realize I’m still in bed, and that nothing I experienced was real. It’s just a dream. Thank God it was just a dream.

  Rocky the dog licks my face, and then stares at me. As I calm myself down, Rocky sits down next to me. He’s such a thoughtful pup. I pet him and he helps me relax. With the exception of Jack, this dog is my rock. He’s always here when I need him, and he’s always willing to go the extra mile to make me feel better. He’s a good doggie. I pet him again and scratch behind his ears.

  Coming back to reality, my mind focuses on real life again.

  Real life tells me it’s the weekend. Today is Saturday, the wee hours of Saturday, but Saturday nonetheless and I’m up again at the ungodly hour of 4:00 a.m.

  At this time of the morning, it’s still cold and dark. Jack normally gets up at four in order to get to work for the morning show. Normally, I get up with him, make him breakfast, and get him off to work, but nowadays I can go back to sleep for a few hours. We’re making a little more money so we invested in another car. It’s not a luxury vehicle, but as long as it has four wheels and runs, I don’t need to tag along with him in the morning anymore like I did back in Scarlet Peak. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so thankful we survived the zombie outbreak there last year, which is the reason why I’m perturbed at him for putting his life in jeopardy now. I love being with him but starting my workday that early isn’t for me. I’m definitely not a morning person. Yet, after years of this routine, it’s still clearly a hard habit to break.

  “I’m not ready to get up just yet,” I say to myself. “I’m going back to sleep. Breakfast is going to be delayed.” Those comments are directed to Rocky. I scratch his furry neck again. “Is that OK with you?” He plops down next to me, content to go back to sleep.

  I roll over and try to get comfortable, ignoring the sweaty mess I made courtesy of my last nightmare. I half expect Jack to be sound asleep and snoring next to me, but he’s not. Not today. Maybe tomorrow? Probably not. A girl can hope, right?

  It makes me sad that we’re apart. Sometimes work has to come first, though, especially when you’re in the breaking news business. Jack travels all over the world covering zombie outbreaks, and I’m still not used to it. In many parts of the world, he’s heralded as a hero because he managed to fight his own personal zombie battle and come back from the brink. Most people who’re infected lose their humanity completely as the sickness claims their bodies, but Jack and I are two of the lucky ones.

  I’m a bit luckier today because I’m comfortable at home while Jack is dodging zombies and trying to expose bad guys. With thoughts of Jack dancing in my head, I stay in bed, snuggle under the covers, pet Rocky, and stare at the ceiling, hoping for a wave of restful sleep to come and wash over me.

  I thought we put all of this zombie hoopla behind us when we moved away from Scarlet Peak. Before that, though, we did whatever we could in order to help the town rebuild. After the Colonel and the rest of the higher-ups involved with the zombie virus conspiracy were finally brought to justice, Jack and I decided it was time to put the past behind us and start fresh somewhere else. Now we’re putting roots down in the cozy, little down of Ocram, Ohio, located on the outskirts of the state capital. We wanted to live like normal people, if you can call us that. I’d like to think we’re as normal as normal can get these days.

  The craziest thing is that even though Scarlet Peak continues to rebuild and there hasn’t been another outbreak there in some time, the people in other parts of the world are still suffering through the zombie epidemic, just like we did. The virus continues to spread, infect, and mutate. No one is safe. Any time I watch images of the outbreak on the news, it always gets me upset and teary-eyed. I know firsthand what those people are going through, because Jack and I went through it ourselves not that long ago. I still can’t watch those news stories without breaking down. Needless to say, I’m not a fan of the news anymore. I barely watch it.

  Half asleep and still gazing at the ceiling, I lift up my arm and look at my own bite mark scar. Jack has one, too. It’s on his neck and it’s a constant reminder of what I did to him, but I try to see the silver lining in the situation. He’s now pretty much immune to the virus, but you can never predict what’s going to happen when zombies are involved. They infiltrate an area and reduce it to rubble, lawlessness, sickness, and ultimately, death. If Jack is in the middle of a mess like that again, who knows what might happen. Even if he is immune, his head isn’t made of steel.

  “I love you, Jack. Come home soon,” I whisper to no one in the darkness.

  As my eyes begin to get a little watery and my nose starts to clog, I roll back over and look at the clock again. It’s just too damn early. Rocky is already sleeping again, snuggled up between the pillow and the comforter. Good idea. I’m going back to sleep, too.

  Chapter 2

  ________________________________________

  Hours later, the balmy rays of daylight wake me up. The cold and the darkness are gone and all I feel is the warmth of the sun on my face. I sit up, smile, stretch, hop out of bed, and put on my robe. Today is going to be a good day. I can feel it! I’ve got a lunch date with some old friends who are in town visiting. I walk to the bathroom, with Rocky following close behind, and turn on the shower.

  Once the shower is at an appropriate temperature, I shed my robe and carefully step into the steaming waterfall. I close my eyes and focus on nothing, except the water and the feeling of it engulfing my body. I open my eyes and I’m ready to start my day. I grab for the shampoo and continue my bathing routine.

  With conditioner in my hair, I take the soap and start to lather up. I use the washcloth and begin to rub soapsuds all over my body. When I massage the washcloth over my arm, I can’t help but notice the bite mark again. I stop and stare at it.

  “You gotta stop focusing on this crap,” I tell myself. “Use it as a symbol of strength or make an appointment at a plastic surgeon to get rid of it.”