Hawk Release

In early March I was driving on I-10 east outside Columbus when I noticed a raptor on the side of the highway only a few feet from passing vehicles.  It did not appear dead so I swung around on the feeder road to capture it.  It didn’t notice me approaching until I threw a t-shirt over it and brought it back to my car.  I found a box at a gas station to transport it to Angleton where I took it to the Gulf Coast wildlife Rescue facilities (Donate to http://www.gcwr.org/).  This non-profit was operated by Dana Simon.  She identified it as a mature male redtail hawk.  This was a large male but mature females are always larger.  The diagnosis was it suffered a head trauma but no broken bones or wings.  She was confident it would be rehabilitated within a month.  It recovered within 10 days and I was allowed to release it back in the wild on a country road away not far from where it was captured. 

Be free beautiful raptor.  Return to the bosom of Mother Earth!

Zombies of Dungpileton

 This is a fictional web novel

All characters, living or dead, and locations or events in this novel

are entirely fictitious or merely coincidental

Chapter 12

Race sat in the back of the black SUV in the parking lot of Dungpileton Whataburger.  The two zombie assassins sat in the front and it was hard to not stay fixated on the back of their heads.  The bulges indicated they had been zombie for months.  This time though he noticed a two inch protuberance at the skull base which every so often wiggled around.  A breathing appendage?

The zombies gazed forward, intently focused on their prey - Damian Siegfried and the rogue botanist inside the restaurant.  Both had joined their co-workers for lunch on this day, the every other Friday when they were mandated to be furloughed from work as part of the federal budget sequester.   This topic of conversation was avoided, mostly to not hear I told you so from the botanist who was right in predicting congressional republicans would sooner lay off workers than tax their millionaire masters.  Instead, Vince Santiago brought up the death of the mayor’s nephew. 

I knew that sick fucker wasn’t going to live when they sent him to Dunpileton General.   The Center for Disease Control has named it the number one hospital for antibiotic resistant staph bacteria.  People check in but they don’t check out.  That dick went gangrenous after they sewed it back on.  Handling it after it was cut off was nastier than picking up severed limbs. 

Vince’s knowledge of the hospital stemmed from his moonlighting duties as an EMT.   He relished the graphic accidents he encountered, more so for their conversation value around his co-workers. 

Bryce Jackson, the Minnesotan native, waited for Vince to finish then saw his opening.

Now that I think aboot it that dick was probably infected after ya put it in a beg to take home to suck for the night.  Dontcha know that then?

The group laughter enraged Vince.  Had his medication kicked in he would have been indifferent to the insult.

Fuck you!  Fuck all you faggots!

Despite the jovial atmosphere  Damian was mostly lost in thought.  Word on the street was he had a bounty on his head for what he did to the mayor’s nephew.  It was better to amuse himself by flicking french fries off the table and watching the botanist pick them up to eat. 

“Five second rule!” the botanist proclaimed.  As if the fries were not infected by the roach eggs on the floor within that time frame.

Without a word the zombies grabbed their BXP 9mm submachine guns, each with a 32 round magazine clip.  They glanced back at Race, nodded and stepped outside the vehicle.  Race worked out his plan in his head again.  It was predicated on maintaining his faux allegiance with the thin man and mayor.  He would distract the assassins as they stepped into the restaurant thereby giving Damian and the botanist time to gun them down.  At least that is what Race hoped they understood when he text them the plan while in the SUV.  He disliked this only option because there were too many variables out of his control. 

Assumptions.  Assuming the group would not have guns.  Assuming each person would not have their individual guns out on the table while they ate.  Assuming Damian was not watching the SUV the entire time it was parked.  Notifying the botanist brought on a look of confusion from Bryce and Vince but a head motion towards the zombies holding their weapons was all they needed to realize what was about to transpire.  A distraction was not needed as Race saw the fire power of the group.  He dropped to the floor just as the zombies entered the establishment and were abruptly met with a hail of bullets.  The impacts sent them stumbling back, tripping over Race and crashing into the entrance doorway.  Race composed himself, looking back to quickly assess if the assassins were dead and upon seeing their bloody, bullet-riddled bodies, decided it was safe to get up as employees and patrons frantically exited past him.  Bryce and Victor were still perplexed but high from the bloodbath.  They nearly fired their weapons on Race but were waved off by the botanist.

He’s with us. 

As Race approached the group the tinkling of glass and a collective Oh shit! stopped him in his tracks.  He whirled around to see the zombies right themselves to aim their Mac-10’s in his direction.  Bullets trailed him as ducked behind the condiment bar alongside the botanists and his coworkers.  During the lull of the Mac-10 reloading Bryce withdrew his other weapon from its holster, a Smith and Wesson X-frame Model 500 pistol,  and trained its sight on a zombie’s wrist.  The impact of the weapon’s .50 caliber bullet left a bloody stump with both weapon and hand sent flying over the service counter into the fry queue.   Without missing a step the hand-less zombie walked towards the men, only slowed down by a torrent of bullets which disemboweled organs and shattered bones.  The crippling barage felled him but he still continued to crawl toward the men as the other zombie, having discharged all his rounds, joined him.   Suddenly it dawned on Bryce what to do to kill the zombies.

Shoot dem in da head.  I saw it in The Walking Dead dontcha know.

The men complied.  High caliber rounds exploded the zombie's heads on impact, dropping the standing one to the floor with the other.  Both dead.  Vince glanced at a large, yellow slug-like creature still writhing on the floor a few feet from the zombies.  He pierced it with his Bowie knife to show to the men.

 

What the fuck is this, he queried.  Race explained.

That is the zombie parasite.  It was using them as a host and has the ability to deaden any feeling of pain in their bodies and apparently the parasite continues to control the body after its vital organs shut down.  Damian, you will have to explain to your friends what this is all about because I have a church service to attend.

He called out to the botanist who was taking advantage of the free fries in the queue.

And you’re coming with me.

Sector 6

The House of the Rogue Botanist

Race was growing impatient.  The rogue botanist was in the back yard with his ladies - the rows of female cannabis plants Race swore the botanist would have sex with if he could find a way.  Still, this was taking long even for the botanist.  Walking outside he found out why.  The botanist was sitting in a lawn chair in the shade of a large pecan tree (Carya llinoisensis).  His cat Doobie slept on his lap.  At his feet was a brown paper bag where upon inspection was filled with desiccated psychedelic mushrooms. 

Goddamit!  Why couldn't you just get stoned if you couldn’t handle sitting with hundreds of Jesus freaks? 

The botanist disengaged to reply.

Sitting in the Man's house ain't my scene.  I need to be somewhere else when I'm there.  Can you dig what I'm saying?

I dig alright but just cool it when you're there or wherever you are and stay close to me.  

Most Holy Trinity Church of Dungpileton

Most Holy Trinity Church of Dungpileton stood adjacent to the Brazoria County court house. All county and city supervisors were mandated to hold their staff meetings in the church conference room.  After business matters were addressed the meeting was closed with a benediction.   Attendance was strictly enforced and those who protested or failed to attend suddenly disappeared less they report this violation of the Establishment Clause to the ACLU.  Under the auspices of its minister, Pastor Silas Angleton, the church vetted members according to their wealth status and slavish adherence to Christian doctrine.  This worked in tandem with the hiring practices of the county and city.  Interview questions were worded to ferret out the background of each applicant with no consideration given to those professing the faith of a non-Christian religion.  Next door to the church was the brothel which was older than the church.  City and church officials recognized from the beginning that controlling the citizens of Dungpileton was accomplished through controling the market for sex and drugs.   It was customary for the male church attendees to satisfiy their primal urges before church services began.  Foregoing condoms was a source of macho pride but unfortunately this enabled a breeding ground for numerous strain of sexually transmitted diseases which, when passed on to their wives and girlfriend often produced dim-witted offspring who were the future prostitutes and addicts of Dungpilton.  It was a closed system of non-diminishing returns. 

Race and the botanist joined the throng of worshipers filing into the church.  There was no intention of stopping the infection which was beyond their capabilities rather, this was a reconnaissance mission to identify the masters and terminate them before they could use the zombie parasite outside Dungpileton.  Leery of recognition, Race attempted to sit in the last pew but finding that and several pews forward completely occupied he and the botanist settled for the middle row.  People took little notice of the botanist’s vapid behavior.  It was no different than the deportment of most of the congregation.  The mass opened with the congregation accompanying a young man strumming on an acoustic guitar.

I heard the voice of Jesus say, Come unto Me and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon My breast.

I came to Jesus as I was, weary and worn and sad;

I found in Him a resting place, and He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say, Behold, I freely give

The living water; thirsty one, stoop down, and drink, and live

Race followed accordingly in his songbook, taking heed of how the botanist was acting and surprisingly finding him singing as if inspired from an epiphany.  Then, as he leaned closer a sense of dread washed over him.  The words were not from the songbook.

Glory be to the Bomb and to the Holy Fallout:

As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be,

World without end.  Amen

Zhi Peng Zhou looked on approvingly at the congregation.  As an exiled pastor from his Chinese homeland he was given a hero’s welcome at every church he visited.  He found the gullibility of Christians was greatly enhanced if a person had purportedly suffered enormous retribution for his faith from an oppressive government.   It served his bank account particularly well.  As he was want to do, Zhi Peng relished the moment with a flashback to his childhood in the Anhui Province of China at the time of Mao Zedong’s Great Leap Forward.  This was not a pleasant memory rather, a persistent reminder to ensure he would never want for food ever again.  The failure of The Great Leap Forward to industrialize China resulted in catastrophic famines and unbearable hardships for millions of rural Chinese. 

Almighty Bomb

Who destroyed devils

To create angels!

Behold His glory!

Zhi Peng was ten years old at the time of the great famines which peaked in 1961.  He remembered a progression of animals brought to the table when the crops failed.  First poultry, then dogs and cats followed by the family mule then rats and finally hacked limbs, entrails and brains of corpses of people who died in the street from disease and starvation.  The scavenging sustained Zhi Peng and his younger sister, Chunhua, and over time he relished the taste of human flesh.  He likened it to the flavor of chicken but his family was the not the only one indulging in cannibalism.  Within weeks the streets were cleaned of corpses and Zhi Peng body withered from the meager repasts of dirt, cockroaches and slugs.  Then one morning he awoke to the sweet bouquet of human flesh boiling in a pot.  Only when his appetite was satiated did he notice Chunhua was not present. Forever.

After the famines Zhi Peng languished in the agricultural collectives for years but he never forgot the power of Chairman Mao’s cult of personality nor the delectable taste of human flesh.  Knowing power was centralized between the generals and powerful families of China, Zhi Peng decided to live in a land that was ripe for gullibility.  A land where people would sheepishly allow one person to think for them; what to eat, what to read, when to sire children.  In this land there were thousands of charlatans growing fat off their followers and still, the supply of sheep seemed limitless and waiting to be herded.  This land was his destiny.  This land was the United States of America. 

Through word of mouth Zhi Peng found a human trafficker to take him to America.  The Cold War was raging but transport ships out of China were still able to reach the States through intermediary countries.  On the night of his departure Zhi Peng gave the trafficker his life savings of $5000 and joined 200 men in a cargo container within the hold of the ship for the month’s journey.   He was assured that food and water would be provided but this amounted to a hosing down of fresh water and a sack of potatoes for everyone every other day.  The replenishing of food and water from the ceiling hatch was the only light Zhi Peng saw the entire journey.  One week into the trip the fetid smell of unwashed bodies and piles of feces became a breeding ground for dysentery as well as rampant scabies and lice.  The men partitioned into groups in varying stages of illness.  In the dark the moans of dying men was the only clue to move as far away as possible towards the container's bulkhead but this was the opportunity Zhi Peng took advantage of to survive.  He stayed with the dying, waiting for them to stop breathing then patiently consumed their eyes and penis.   No one could see what transpired but the sound of mastication was undeniable.  In time Zhi Peng gnaw through the soft areas of the bodies; looking for the vital organs but was never sure what he ate other than the heart.  The journey concluded in Seattle. 

When the container's doors opened only fifty men were alive and spilling out in all directions, leaving behind dozens of half-eaten corpses.  In the chaos Zhi Peng escaped to the heart of Seattle; finding a nondescript church nestled between a Star Bucks and 7-11.  It was a Sunday and no parishioners were present to hear the sermon.  Grateful for his presence the pastor and his wife took it upon themselves to care for Zhi Peng.  That night was their last.  Any evidence of the missing bodies was consumed over a month’s time and no one noticed the sermons were now given by Pastor Zhou.  In time Zhi Peng gained a following within the Asian community.  He built a larger church and become a prominent spokesman for the plight of the destitute in Seattle and Eastern Washington State.  Pastor Zhi Peng was recognized for his contribution in reducing the population of the homeless in Seattle although no one realized they were now residents of a walk-in freezer in the church basement.   Zhou’s work caught the attention of the thin man whom at that time was looking for an associate to preside over the operations of the Family on the West Coast as well as additional duties as seen fit in other areas of the country. 

The mushrooms sent the rogue botanist somewhere else and that was in a montage of events from the first two movies of the Planet of the Apes series.  He was George Taylor, the time-traveling astronaut trapped in a future where apes evolved to rule planet Earth and enslave humans who had devolved into mute scavengers.  At his side was the beautiful Nova whom he befriended after his spaceship crashed and was now signaling to him she was in estrus.  No matter that they were captives of evangelical mutant humans who worshiped a nuclear missile in subterranean caverns.  He mimicked the mutants singing in their church; hoping they wouldn’t notice Nova begging him to mate with her. 

“Wow”, the botanist murmured.  “The perfect woman.  Horny, doesn’t talk and I don’t have to pay for sex”.  He grind his groin against the pew to the consternation of Race and horror of the parishioners around him. 

Race looked around, waiting for the opportunity to leave without any further commotion.  They were far enough in the pews to escape the notice of Zhi Peng as he conducted the church service

The apes were closing in on the botanist and Nova as the sermon was approaching the sacramental part of the service.  Wafers and wine simulated the body and blood of Jesus Christ. 

The peace of the Lord be always with you

And also with you

Now nets are thrown.  The botanist and Nova are dragged to the floor, struggling against their ape captors.  Nova is frantic and Taylor the astronaut/botanist is enraged.  When Pastor Peng and the congregation greet one another to shake hands in the name of the Lord a parishioner reaches out to clasp the botanist hand.

Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape!

Silence.

The Pentagon

Washington D.C.  U.S.A.

The room was unofficially known as the Cheney Chamber.  It was here during the Bush Administration that President Cheney often visited to watch the torture of Muslim detainees.  Former CIA agents recall him masturbating as the prisoners underwent his favorite torture – Water Boarding.  Now David Roland was the only occupant.  For over a week he was repeatedly beaten, electrocuted and water boarded but still his captors could not gather any information about his affiliation with the rouge botanist.  He was subjected to torture when injection of the zombie parasite did not bring on the anticipated results.  Unbeknownst to them David received the antidote from the botanist  and was able to enlist the help of a CIA lab technician to concentrate it into a vaccine which was administered by pill.  The technician died in the firefight which led to David’s capture.  Now the thin man was present, much to the apprehension of the torturers.  He was not pleased with the lack of results.

Has he said anything of value?

No sir.

Then we shall proceed with the next phase. 

With that the thin man ordered everyone out of the torture chamber.  As he existed the door he turned to David, still bound in his chair, and then glanced over to a small, ragged-edge hole in the corner of the room. 

We will see how persuasive the rats are Mr. Roland after they have you for dinner for a week. 

Roland looked up through swollen eyes to see the thin man close the door behind him.  The room was completely sealed from external sound and light.  The only sound inside was the pounding of his heart, a pounding that was usurped by the tiny patter of feet moving towards him.

Zombies of Dungpileton

                                                 

This a fictional web novel

                  All characters, living or dead, and locations or events in this web novel
                                         are entirely fictitious or merely coincidental


                                                               Chapter 11


Oh, you satisfy me like no man before.  I want to join your commune of hippie women in New Mexico.  Can you schedule me for more sex this week?  Please, I’m begging you.
 
Sorry Amy Pond, with a body like this I’m booked for months.  Women call it a miracle, I call it a curse.  

Oh please baby, satisfy me again.  Oh please give it to me now….

Hey, wake up!

Race looked down at the botanist.  He awoke, dreary eyed with a pounding headache.  He was dreaming by the toilet bowl in his bathroom.  Last night he staggered back to his house after hiding from an enraged knife-wielding hooker after vomiting on her; a consequence of his stomach rejecting the combination of Artemisia extract and thousands of dead parasites.   His torso was covered in dried, black bile.  He moaned a simple request. 

White Widow please.  It’s in a jar by my peyote.

Race returned with the botanist’s preferred strain of medical cannabis.  He lit the joint, took a drag then leaned back against the toilet.

Ah, that’s better.
 
Race shook his head.  This was not the first failed attempt by the botanist to find someone for sex following a mission and more often than not it ended in disaster. 
You never learn, do you?  Just like that time in Thailand.  We barely escaped the Thai Royal Army after you propositioned the daughter of General Chan.

I thought she wanted me. 

You always think that.  Well, you better clean up.  I’ll have a better picture of where we stand after meeting with the Family rep in the Mayor’s office.
  
You should leave after I distract those men watching the house, replied the botanist.

Who? Race queried.  Paranoia more often than not validated someone was spying on him. 

They were hard to miss when I came home.  The hookers avoided them like the plague where they parked their black van.  You can slip out after they follow me to Whataburger. 

Thirty minutes later Race watched from a window as a black, unmarked van follow the botanist in his SUV to Whataburger.   When it turned the street corner he left the house in his vehicle, detouring ten additional minutes. 

Dungpileton City Hall

Race was apprehensive about showing his NSA identification card to pass through city hall security with his K-bar or Desert Eagle.  He didn’t like the confirmation of his high profile presence but this was secondary to lacking a weapon for defense should the Family find out his complicity in the death of Darya Rachmaninoff.   He entered the reception area expecting to find Darlene in a meth induced haze but instead she greeted him in a professional albeit monotone voice.

Good morning Mr. Banner.  Mayor Angleton is expecting you sir.

Race entered the office.  The mayor rose to shake his hand then introduced two men sitting adjacent to his desk.  Both were Caucasian, athletic in stature; just over six feet tall, smartly dress in identical pressed white short sleeved shirts, black ties and black trousers with patent leather black shoes.  Their hair styles were also identical; short, simply tapered and parted on the left.

Race, this is Mr. Neil Huntsman and Mr. Bob Douglass.
 
Mr. Huntsman immediately corrected the mayor.

Mayor, please.  We prefer to be introduced as Brother Neil and Brother Bob.
 
Race greeted the men then sat in a chair facing the mayor but at the corner of his eye he noticed that Neil and Bob continued to stare at him.  Nothing about this setting was foreign to Race.  He never expected to be trusted but only deceptive enough to continue the mission.  There men seemed innocuous in appearance except for a small bulge at the base of their heads.  The mayor opened the discussion.
 
Gentlemen, we are here today to finalize the initial stages of infection to the citizens of Dungpileton by the zombie parasite.   We need to keep this infection manageable and to this end I propose we isolate the contagion to activities which target the residents instead of tourists.  Fortunately our largest tourist attraction, the Dungpileton Founders Parade, is still a month away.

Neil interjected.

It appears that the largest gathering of citizens in this town occurs on Sunday during church services.  Brother Bob and I are very pleased the sheep of our Lord’s flock are so dedicated.

Race held his tongue about the brothel next door to the church which was an obvious conduit for the church to siphon in attendees after they took care of personal business.  No doubt wanting to placate the guilt of their sinful lusting.  The mayor continued.

Gentlemen, we will use a two-fold approach to infecting the population.  Yesterday we introduced the zombie parasite to all prostitutes that are on contract with the brothels.  It was a simple matter of having enough infected customers with a lot of money.  Naturally this doesn’t account for the women or children therefore we have a visiting pastor from China introduce the parasite cysts in their communion wafers.  Following the service attendees will be guided to a large revival area where those who did not receive communion will be infected with barbeque.  I seriously doubt no one will pass up free food.  The obvious signs of nebulous expressions will signal brothers Bob and Neil to be front and center of the crowd to imprint on them as their masters.

The mayor paused, and then spoke into his desk intercom to Darlene.

Darlene, will you please step inside my office?
 
Darlene entered the mayor’s office.  What was once a haggard meth addict was now a respectable looking woman albeit still aged beyond her years.   The mayor motioned his hand for her to sit in a chair besides Race.  She sat as she was told, never uttering a word.  With a side view Race noticed the bulging outline of the back of her head.

As for you, Race.  You are here as our enforcement.  You will ensure there are no non-zombie stragglers left alive in Dungpileton.  We have your first assignment and it is of the highest priority but first there is the matter of lunch.

Race saw no presence of food and was not about to eat anything from anyone associated with the Family.  He remained silent, giving an air of someone intent on fulfilling his mission when Neil posed an offer.

We know from your history that you are a man of loyalty and a proven asset to our project.  When you return from dispatching Damian Sigfried we want to offer you a command level position in our family.  Our Lord and Savior have given the human race a wonderful opportunity to attain a higher level of consciousness and euphoria when we join souls with the parasite.

Race was confused.  Having seen what the parasite did to its host he assumed being a mindless zombie was the end result.  He turned to the mayor, noticing for the first time the bulge at the base of his neck.  Neil continued.

Our geneticists had perfected a parasite that lives with us in perfect symbiosis.  The mind is vacant after cyst introduction but after 2 days the parasite and host work in tangent for our leader.  He never has to be present, instead relying on us to fulfill his grand mission for the Lord.  Only a few of us are blessed with this gift.  The rest are infected with the standard parasite therefore mindless minions in our service.


The mayor reached into his desk drawer to retrieve a steal mallet then spoke to Darlene.

Darlene honey, we need to show Race how the parasite lives in your skull.  Please come over to the desk and put your head on it.

Darlene walked to the desk and without hesitation laid her head down on it.  The mayor explained to Race what was about to transpire.

Race, Darlene has been an exceptional receptionist and a willing host for our second generation parasite but unfortunately her methamphetamine addition has degraded the function of her organs to the point where there is no recovery.  She has in her one more glorious task for us.  Is that right Darlene?

I give myself willing in the service of my father and lord.

Darlene stared at Race as the mayor brought the mallet down on her skull.  He didn’t flinch as blood and brains splattered on him.  Again the mayor raised the mallet and brought it down on Darlene’s skull, this time widening the crack enough for him to reach inside with both hands to split it open for observation of the parasite.  He beckoned for Race to approach for a closer look.  Race complied, concealing his rage and anguish.  Darlene died with the first mallet blow but the parasite’s death throes cause her limbs to twitch convulsively.  The mayor was as calm as a coroner describing dissected cadaver.

Look closer Race.  You will see how the parasite’s external nerves grow into all the regions of the brain.  It continues to grow until limited by the cranium then growth continues down the spine to continue merging with the arteries and veins.  Naturally with two organisms in one host the nutrient requirements have double.  We famish easily without twice the normal intake of food.  Gentlemen?

The mayor motioned for Neil and Bob to approach the desk, each removing a small pocket knife from there suit pockets.  The mayor positioned Darlene on the desk facing up.  With quivering hands he ripped her dress open, exposing her entire torso then, without hesitation reached into her skull to tear out a portion of brain and bit into it.  Neil and Bob plunged their knives into Darlene's midsection, slicing it open to access the vital organs.  There was no preference, whatever the men could grab was consumed in front of Race in a frenzied blood lust.

Race had come across acts of cannibalism before on a mission during the Congo civil war.  He walked through villages where dozens of women and children were raped and disemboweled, often finding severed limbs and heads still stewing in pots over fire pits but he never saw the slaughtered as it occurred.  He nearly vomited in disgust.  He wanted to grab each man and watch the life fade from their eyes as he snapped their necks but they all abruptly stopped, satiated for the moment.

Neil spoke up.

This may seem unsettling to you Race but you will come to relish the feeling of oneness with the parasite.  It rewards us for feeding it by triggering the pleasure centers of our brain.  A high no drug can equal and it is all ordained by God.

As Neil finished his face exhibited a look of euphoria.  He and Bob both reposed to chairs.  The mayor composed himself for an assignment for Race.

Our operatives have tracked the man who beat my nephew to death.  He died this morning from staph infection after surgery at Dungpileton General.  This man is eating at the only Whataburger in town with his coworkers and as it turned out one of them is targeted for termination by my beloved leader.  I am not privy to details but it appears he survived a recent assassination attempt.  This time I’m sure you will finish the job.

Race sensed he was talking about the rogue botanist.

What do you want me to do?

Just stand back and kill any survivors after my men open fire on the patrons with their automatic rifles.  Then leave with them before the police arrive.  Thereafter we need you to kill a biologist who is working in an area where we have disposed of radioactive byproducts from local factories.  Any questions?

There were none.

The mayor handed Race a slip of paper with the information he needed then slid back into his chair and closed his eyes.  He said nothing else, only smiled with a soft moan emanating from his blood stained mouth.
 
Killing the mayor and these men would be easy but it would lead to time consuming complications and those two operatives may not wait for him to begin the slaughter.  He phoned them immediately. 

The Pentagon

Arlington County, Virginia

David Rolan steadied himself for another punch.  It came straight into his nose, breaking cartilage and producing a profuse stream of blood.  Again, he was asked the same two questions from his inquisitor.

Who is the rouge botanist and why did you send him classified information?

David squinted through swollen eyes and cracked sockets.  It was enough to see where his tormentor stood.  He opened his mouth to utter a sentence; drawing the man closer.  When within range David spat in his face, covering it in a spackling of blood and teeth.  This solicited a barrage of punches until David passed out. 

Zombies of Dungpileton

                                                    

                                                        This a fictional web novel 
                  All characters, living or dead, and locations or events in this web novel
                                         are entirely fictitious or merely coincidental  

                                                    This a fictional web novel

                  All characters, living or dead, and locations or events in this web novel
                                         are entirely fictitious or merely coincidental


                                                               Chapter 10



The bottom land forests offered solace to Damian Siegfried.  Solace and escape from Dungpileton where life’s roll of the dice dumped him in that wretched town after he garnered a position with the Texas Gulf Coast Complex as a wild land firefighter and maintenance worker.  The roll of the dice also gave him custody of his young daughter, Sonya, after the psychotic break down of his wife and subsequent divorce.  His daughter gave him the will to tolerate the misanthropes in sector 4 where they resided but the seething anger endured, buried but always seeking a trigger point to emerge.  Perhaps next week he would snap the neck of his neighbor, a gelatinous dullard who screamed into the night at his TV or strangle the next cart leaning ignoramus in line at Wal-Mart who couldn’t decide which brand of discount cigarette she wanted.  Maybe he would kick the face in of the principle of his daughter’s school.  The principal who skimmed so much from the school districts’ meager budget that children were taught not by teachers rather, they sat all day watching reel to reel projections of 1950’s era documentaries on the infiltration of communists in American society.  No, the trigger point was today when he arrived at his daughter’s school to take her to tutoring lessons in West Columbia.  He stopped his truck in front of a group of tourists whom the school allowed to visit in the hope of soliciting pity and more importantly, money after seeing the sordid results of a Dungpileton education.  Screams gave him pause and sudden recognition within a faction of a second.  They were the screams of Sonya.  Damian exited his truck, barreling his way through the tourists to find the principal reassuring them the child who was dragged kicking and screaming by a man to a van was a commonplace occurrence; a sugar crazed side effect from allowing an Energy Drink company to sell its swill in vending machines within the school.  Nearby, a Dungpileton police officer in his squad car was passed out in a food coma after binging on a box of donuts. The sight of Damian’s daughter, the girl attempting to kick the groin of her assailant, ignited a primal rage in him.  The span of twenty meters was covered in a blur followed by a barrage of fists that turned the assailant’s face to bloody hamburger within seconds.  Damian stood over the man, now incapacitated on the ground, confident he had beaten him to death but then saw body movement.  A resounding kick to the face left the man unconscious.  Then to the horror of the tourists, Damian unsheathed his hunting knife to cut away the cloth around the man’s groin.  The man never felt the severing of his penis or saw the reluctance of the EMS technician, Vince Santiago, to remove it after it was crammed down his mouth.  Damian was arrested later that evening for attempted murder however, numerous cell phone recordings followed by 500 million YouTube visits enabled him to walk away a free man but his daughter though had yet to return from Michigan in the care of her grandmother.  Damian took advantage of his time off from work to hunt for hogs in the bottomlands albeit clandestinely.  He knew where the hog's den was located, stalking silently with bow and arrow at the ready as their snorting and body odors intensified.   Then a splash, a cacophony of squeals and the reports of a high caliber pistol sent him running to the den area.  In route he heard silence again and then another round of squeals and gun fire, then silence followed by a single squeal. He arrived to the flank of the male hog.  It was furiously snapping at someone beneath it in a large muddy hole.  That someone was plunging a knife repeatedly into the hog’s neck to little avail.  The act of observing and deciding what to do was one second.  Reaching in his quiver, notching arrow to bow, drawing it back and letting it fly was a fraction of a second later.

What the fuck have you done now?

Even when encapsulated in mud, Damian recognized the botanist but recognition came partly from knowing no one else could possibly find themselves in this bizarre situation.  Damian stepped back as the botanist and Race came to their feet.  The botanist responded to Damian’s question.

Oh, we were just finding out why someone wants to kill me and then we're going to stop a zombie holocaust in Dungpileton.

Damian sighed.  He had come across the botanist like this before in the woods but left him alone with his vision quests.

Either you are still tripping from peyote or these hogs found you and your gay-ass lover having sex in the woods.

Race clinched his fists, shifting towards Damian but stopped abruptly.  The drawing of another arrow was barely perceivable.  It was aimed at his chest.

Not so fast pretty boy.  I just saved both your sorry asses and now I want some answers.

The botanist reiterated his story but with more detail followed by a final explanation from Race who also showed his NSA credentials.  Damian still couldn’t fathom an assassination attempt or zombie holocaust but seeing what Race did to the hogs gave him pause.

Okay, I’m not buying this whole zombie and assassination shit but I’m willing to give you both another chance to prove that even half of what you say could be true.  Something is going on and I want in.  Race is it?  I still think both of you are fucking nuts but true or not, this is better than sitting back and rotting away in Dungpileton.

He held out his hand to Race.  They shook hands.

No hard feelings about the gay comment, Okay?  It’s just that I think he (gesturing to the botanist) has had one too many vision quests.  Nice shooting by the way.

The botanist looked at Damian, raising his hand to extend a middle finger.  Damian laughed.

You’re number one with me too.  Now let’s get you two hosed off at the refuge.

On the way to the refuge the men detoured to the oak for the botanist’s clothing.  Before leaving he placed his hand on the oak and thanked it for the advice.

                                                                  Dungpileton, Sector 6
                                                       The House of the Rogue Botanist

All three men sat around the only table in the house.  It was scavenged from garbage piles within the neighborhood as were the two chairs.  Damian sat on a cushion on top of two milk crates.  They passed around the botanist’s prized paraphernalia – a ROOR “Dealers Cup” 7.0mm green ice bong.  The discussion turned to Darya Rachmaninoff with Race protesting the botanist’s plan to deal with her.

Let me get this straight.  You are going to dinner with the most deadly assassin in the world and whose sole purpose it is to kill you?  All because you think she wants you bad enough to give you sex before she puts a bullet in your head?  Are you fuckin’ nuts?

The botanist replied in a matter of fact tone.  Makes sense to me.

Damian watched both men argue.  He was thoroughly entertained by this polemic exchange of opinions and wondered if there was a psychotic condition where two people enabled their same delusions.  He decided to humor them but first asked the botanist about food because he was getting the munchies.

What is there to eat in this place?

Just chicken and rice and my special free-range hamburger for the dogs and cats.  It's in the freezer.  Do you want it?

Sure.

Damian made a sandwich of two fried patties then returned to the conversation.

Damn! This is the best hamburger I've ever eaten!  So, What if she doesn’t kill you?  Race said she is Grigory’s number one assassin and he’s uses that zombie parasite.  What if she makes you a zombie?

He barely contain his laughter when Race concurred.

That’s right, all she has to do is serve him dinner with parasites in the food.  Two hours later she can tell him to jump in the Gulf and drown and he will do it without hesitation.

The botanist knew this dilemma would be brought up.  He had an answer.

We’re dealing with parasites here.  According to you they first enter the digestive system before ending up in the brain.  I can kill them long before they reach the brain by drinking an elixir of wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) before I meet Darya.  Those little guys will swim right into a toxic pool of thujone and isothujone that will not affect me much.  As an added plus we can let the rest of the elixir ferment to make absinthe.   It’s win-win but just in case I have a backup plan.



                                                           Dungpileton, Sector 1
                                               The House of Darya Rachmaninoff
                                                                   Time: 1910

Race, Damian and the botanist surveyed Darya’s house under growing darkness.  According to city records it was rented to her by the mayor’s sister.  The botanist was meeting Darya in twenty minutes, enough time for the men to go over their plan one more time.  Race checked the botanist’s voice transmitter in his Timex watch.  It was functioning properly.

Damian and I will stay in the vehicle listening to you and Darya during dinner.  If you can’t get to your gun when she makes her move I need you to delay her until we get in there to save your ass.  If in the billion to one odds she has sex with you I want you to use the code word for us to move in.

What is it again?

"I like bondage" but don't expect me to say that right away.

The botanist drank a liter of the artemisia elixir then gathered a bowl of garden vegetables before walking to Darya’s house.  Race and Damian followed him with binoculars.  They only had a few seconds to see Darya before she invited the botanist inside.  He wore his favorite tee-shirt depicting Dr. Who’s Tardis time traveling spaceship.  She wore tight jeans with a tee-shirt of the Starship Enterprise.  Its two FIG-5 subatomic unified energy impulse engines jutted out in front of her breasts.  Damian quipped.

Holy Shit!  If she gave me sex I might just let her put a bullet in my head too!

The interior of house was sparsely furnished, giving it a utilitarian appearance.  There were no pictures on the wall nor the presence of little doo-dads, mementos or keepsakes that would indicate the resident planned to stay for a time.  A table and two chairs occupied the dining room adjacent to a living room with only a couch and flat panel TV on a stand.  Darya guided the botanist to the table, offering him a chair.  When she entered the kitchen he reached down to feel his glock 9mm pistol strapped to his lower calf under his trousers.  Darya brought in their evening’s repast partitioned on separate plates.  She served the botanist’s favorite meal; boiled chicken and rice but replete with thousands of parasitic cysts.  He positioned his bowl of vegetables in the center of the table.  Darya took notice.

These vegetables look very fresh.  What are they?

The botanist identified each one.

These are from my garden.  This is summer squash (Cucurbita pepo), these are lentils (Lens culinaris), this is eggplant (Solanum melongena) and my favorite here – parsnips (Pastinaca sativa) is a plant related to carrots.  Highly recommended.

When she sat down to eat, Darya confirmed the position of her .38 caliber pistol in a slot under the tabletop. Its chamber held one round with nine more in the clip.  As the evening drew on she feigned interests in every topic the botanist brought up.  The research for this assassination was time consuming and nerve racking.  From Tips’ emails she realized she must memorize every episode of the Star Trek genre to understand her prey - The original series to Star Trek: Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine; Star Trek Voyager and Star Trek: Enterprise.   It didn’t stop there; she wisely foresaw the botanist’s ramblings about the X-Files, The Walking Dead, South Park and Dr. Who as well as a litany of characters from Marvel comic books.  The banter was nearly intolerable and only the botanist’s partaking of the meal gave her a few brief moments of salvation.  She thought to herself that aside from killing the botanist the only other redeeming reward was a new found fondness for parsnips.  The rest of the meal made her feel queasy.

After two hours of nearly intolerable geek speak Darya noticed a slur in the botanist’s voice and minutes later he stopped talking altogether, staring at her with a blank expression on his face. 

Finally!  You finally shut up.  I was ready to scream if I heard another story about that insufferable Dr. Who.  Now my little botanist, before you die I want you to tell me why your personnel file was void of so much information and why you are using the same security protocols as the United States security agencies.

The botanist complied.

Race Banner had most of my personnel files deleted from the mainframes at the Department of the Interior.  He also helped me secure my computer's firewall to NSA security specifications.


Darya was astounded by this revelation.  Here in front of her was a person directly tied to the man she chose not to kill in North Korea in her first year as an assassin. She was prevented from hunting him thereafter because Grigory deemed him an ally despite his assassination of dozens of her country’s spies and scientists.  Now her insatiable need to stalk and kill her prey cloaked her fear of the thin man.  Race was a traitor and here was the instrument of his demise by the hand of someone he trusted.  She immediately formulated a new plan despite a nagging nausea.

Is Race at your house?

Yes.

Darya removed her pistol from the slot and placed it on the table in front of her.
You will take this gun and walk back to your house.  When you see Race you will point this pistol at his chest and discharge it eight times.  When he is on the ground you will discharge another round into his head.  Next you will point the gun to your head and pull the trigger.  Do you understand?

The botanist nodded then replied.

Before I leave, can we have sex?  I like bondage.

The botanist’s face now revealed a coherent expression.  Darya was stunned.  She stammered, more from the pain in her abdomen than from shock and confusion.

Wh… wh… why are you not a zombie?

I drank an antidote before coming here that killed the parasites in my body.  Now how about that sex?

Darya was now furious.  She picked up her gun and pointed it at the botanist.

You will have sex with Satan for all eternity!

The botanist looked dismayed.

Not even a hand job?

Before Darya fired her gun a sudden, horrific pang in her gut cause her to double over and fall to the floor. The botanist rose from his chair, kicking Darya's gun away before sitting beside her.  He stroke her long red hair as he explained why she was in pain.

One plant I always grow is poison water hemlock (Cicuta maculata).  It’s in the carrot family with roots similar to parsnips and smells exactly like them.  I don’t know what it tastes like but you do.

Darya writhed in agony.  Her eyes were dilating and blood poured from her mouth as the involuntary chattering of her teeth chewed her tongue to shreds. The botanist calmly continued to described the biology of the plant and its other poison symptoms.

Don’t die yet my love; I’m not finished with our botany lesson.  The main toxic alkaloids in water hemlock are cicutoxin and cicutol.  They are neurotoxins that makes the body initially go into convulsions due to short-circuiting of yours brains’ activity.  Your teeth chattering will stop soon because your muscles will become paralyze including the ones involved in breathing.  The only known cure is consumption of activated charcoal or putting you on a respirator until the toxins wear off.
 
The botanist gave her a kiss on the cheek then stood up.

Now if you’ll excuse me it’s time for Dr. Who on PBS.

He walked over to living room, sitting on the couch to watch Dr. Who while turning up the TV volume to drown out the screams and moans of Darya.  At this time Race crashed through the front door.  He rolled, staying on the floor with his desert eagle drawn.  Damian stood in the doorway aiming his bow but finding their target near death on the floor.  Both men approached Darya, watching her laborious breathing for a moment until her lungs ceased to function.  Her vision of the two men faded to black.  They walked over to the botanist who by now was enthralled in his TV show.  They wanted no part of his obvious sexual arousal by the site of the Doctor’s companion, Amy Pond.  It was pointless to converse with him in this state therefore they spent the next hour pilfering through Darya’s personal effects for any knowledge that would give them an advantage in the upcoming battles.  There was little to show for it.  At this point Damian was starting to worry this delusional game of Race and the botanist had gone too far.  He thought about killing both of them when Race called to his attention Darya’s Ipad.   Race plugged a small device the size of a cigarette pack into its 30-pin power connector.  It bypassed the Ipad's security , allowing him to access email of the thin man’s last instructions to Darya.

Darya, it is imperative that you eliminate the botanist tonight and Jessica Walters within the next few days.  Failure will force me to expend too many resources and time to rectify this problem.  We lack evidence to suggest he has the same martial arts skills as Jessica therefore, it is incumbent of you to make sure he consumes the parasites as a precaution.  When he is a zombie I want you to reframe from killing him outright.  There are questions that must be answered about the omissions in his personnel file and his extraordinary computer skills.  His skills bare too much similarities to the protocols used by this country’s intelligence agencies.  You may kill him after you obtain these answers.

Damian looked down at the floor then met Race’s gaze.  His expression was that of a man who realized his world was about to change forever.

Okay, I get it.  This shit is real so what now?

You stay put until I come back from tomorrow’s meeting with the Family’s representatives.  I think most of my allies in the intelligence agencies are dead or in hiding and I’ll need all the capable help I can find to shut down this project and take out all the leaders.

Race and Banner returned to the botanist who by now was coming down from his sexual high over Amy Pond.  Race knew he wasn’t finished.

Alright horny toad, go get your hooker fix because the biggest mission of our lives starts tomorrow.
The botanist concurred.  He stopped to look at Darya before exiting the house.

What a shame.  I think I’ll tell my hooker to call herself Darya instead of Amy Pond.