Dead of Night: A Zombie Novel by Jonathan Maberry

Author:Jonathan Maberry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Horror & Ghost Stories, Zombies
ISBN: 9780312552190
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2011-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

GREEN GATES 55-PLUS COMMUNITY

“Wait,” said Trout as he leapt to his feet. “What? Homer Gibbon is alive?”

Tears rolled down Dr. Volker’s face as he nodded. He pulled a handkerchief and pressed it against his eyes. His body trembled with quiet sobs.

Goat sat in open-mouthed shock.

“No, no, no, goddamn it,” Trout shouted as he strode over to the doctor, looming above him with balled fists. “You fucking tell me what you mean? How the hell did Homer Gibbon speak to you on the goddamn phone? He’s dead! I saw him die. I saw you pump that shit into his veins and I saw the machines flatline. I watched you execute him, for Christ’s sake.”

When Volker only shook his head, Trout snarled, “You gave him that stuff, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Volker’s voice was tiny.

Goat whispered, “Oh … holy mother of shit…”

“Are you saying that Gibbon is free?” Trout demanded.

“Free?” echoed Volker. “No…”

Trout started to relax, but then the doctor added, “It’s much, much worse than his being free.”

With a snarl, Trout grabbed Volker, hauled him halfway out of the chair and did a fast pat-down to find the pistol he knew Volker carried. It was a heavy nine millimeter, and he tore the pocket open to retrieve it and flung the doctor back down. Volker made a swipe for the pistol, but Trout slapped his hand away and retreated a step. He stared down at Volker with contempt.

“So the plan was to dump this shit in our laps and then eat your gun? You fucking coward.”

“No,” Volker protested, “I told you … I called my handler. The authorities already know about this. They are taking care of it.”

“Taking care of it? Really? A serial killer infected with—Christ, what do I even call this thing? A zombie parasite?—is free in my home town and you think a call to your bosses and a confession to a couple of reporters is enough to balance the scales here?”

“No, I…”

Goat leaned forward. “Doc … if this gets out, if Gibbon is out there among people … what’s the risk of infection?”

“I thought I made that clear.”

Trout racked the slide and put the barrel against Volker’s kneecap. “Make it clearer.”

Volker’s eyes flared with terror. “Please … the parasites were reengineered for survival and proliferation. Outside of a containment unit such as a coffin, they will drive the host to find and infect other hosts.”

“Why?” demanded Goat. “Why would you engineer it to do that?”

“Understand,” said the doctor, mopping tears from his cheeks, “when the Lucifer research was active, it was intended as a bioweapon. Something that could be introduced into an enemy population—a military base or some isolated encampment—and then we would sit back and let the parasites do their work. It would spread through host aggression, and the vastly accelerated life cycle would make each newly infected person a disease vector within minutes. Then military in protective suits could clean up the infected with flame units and acquire the physical assets.”

Trout narrowed his eyes.

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