Zombies & Other Unpleasant Things Read online

  “So, what are you saying? I'm stupid to stay here?”

  The captain sighed, shook his head, and said, “You're no more stupid than I am. Which I guess isn't really saying much.” He laughed and shook his head again before adding, “Besides, where would you go if you left? Most of the big cities are going nuts.”

  “I'm confused. You say staying is stupid and leaving is crazy. What do suggest?”

  The captain looked around to see if anyone was nearby before whispering, “I've chosen a handful of guards I trust with a secret. Can I trust you- no shitting around now- can I trust you to keep my plan quiet?”

  Rikert nodded and said, “Yes sir.”

  “Your shift's up in forty-five minutes, right?”

  “Yes sir. I get half an hour break before I'm supposed to take over guarding the cafeteria.”

  “When your relief gets here meet me at the power station building, and don't tell anyone about this. I mean it. This is deadly serious. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir. I understand. I won't tell anyone.”

  “Good, now just act natural and go do your job. I'll see you there.”

  “What do you think? You saw Captain Shit Stain, out there by the gate, didn't you?” An inmate with a pencil thin mustache asked loudly as he stood at the bars of his cell’s window.

  “Yeah, I saw them. But, how should I know what's going on, Vito? Maybe he wants the kid to suck his dick or something,” the short heavily tattooed Hispanic in the adjoining cell answered.

  “Jose, you're so stupid it actually hurts my head. I'm telling you something is up. First there was all that rioting and shit on TV we saw, just before they put us on lock down. And over the last week fewer guards are coming in to work. I'm seriously telling you, something stinks.”

  “Have you flushed lately?” Jose asked and laughed at his own deeply appreciated sense of humor.

  Vito grunted in disgust and looked down from his third floor cell at the deserted common area below. The stainless steel tables and benches bolted to the concrete floor reflected the overhead lights. It was just as empty as it had been all day, except for the guard who did his quarter hour visual inspection and quickly retreated back down the hallway to the office near the exterior door. Vito wasn't the only inmate that had realized things had changed. For one thing the rules of absolute silence had apparently either been canceled or just forgotten. Cell Block-A was awash with yells, screams, and even an occasional spontaneous profanity laced sing along.

  Rumors always flew fast and furious in prisons and Bayonne was certainly no different, although Vito suspected the vast majority were total bullshit.

  The most optimistic and fanciful bit of gossip was that Warden Massengail would be letting everyone leave soon because there just weren't enough guards showing up anymore. The proponents of that one even went so far as to say the warden would require an oath to be taken, swearing that the inmates would abide by the law from then on.

  On the other end of the spectrum, the most plausible and disturbing rumor suggested the guards and all support personnel were sooner or later just going to leave them to rot in their cells. Vito didn't like that possibility, but was realistic enough to know it was by far the most likely outcome if things didn't get better.

  There was a loud clang noise below and most of the inmates quieted a bit and looked down at the common area. There was a soft puttering noise and Bayonne's miniature version of a bookmobile drove inside and stopped in the middle of the floor below.

  Vito heard hundreds of his fellow inmates shouting, “Hey, Crazy Carl!” at the old black man who got off the seat of the cart.

  The old man waved as if he was being cheered by adoring fans. Vito shook his head and sat back on his bunk.

  George was one of the quietest inmates of Cell Block-A, and also probably the most hungry. He stared at the concrete wall across from his bunk and could both feel and hear his stomach loudly rumbling. His ears hurt from all the yelling coming from the prisoners, but most of all from the weird guy screaming almost nonstop in the cell right next to his. George had wads of toilet paper stuffed into both of his ears, but it didn't seem to help very much.

  He glanced at the wristwatch that he'd gotten in the mail a few weeks earlier and smiled sadly as he thought about the girl who'd sent it. The young man had read the letter she sent along with it over a hundred times and cried each time.

  It was still over an hour before they'd be marched to the cafeteria. He sighed sadly, placed another square of toilet paper in his mouth and chewed at it slowly and meditatively.

  Something flashed brightly and he looked over toward the door of his cell.

  It was Crazy Carl. He was shining a small flashlight at him through the bars.

  George weaved back and forth on the edge of his bunk a few times to build up enough momentum so he could stand up.

  He wasn't the fattest prisoner at Bayonne but was definitely in the top ten. His nearly four hundred pound frame arose like an improbable neon orange balloon dressed in his inmate uniform and he just barely caught himself from running into the far wall of his narrow cell. He breathed heavily and yanked a wad of yellow waxy stained tissue from his right ear.

  “Book or magazine!?” Crazy Carl shouted to be heard over the continuous yelling, most of which came from the cell next door.

  George almost asked which would taste better but instead yelled back, “Do you have anything about art!?”

  The old man nodded and went back to the bookmobile. He rummaged around through a few plastic baskets and came back a minute later holding out two magazines. They were just beyond George's reach if he decided to stick his arm through the bars, but he didn't. One magazine had a bright confusing looking splash of different abstract colors on the cover. The other had a painting of Rembrandt's that was so beautiful it made the young man want to cry. He pointed at the old master's work and was handed the magazine.

  His eyes felt watery and he couldn't see Crazy Carl too clearly, but shouted something the old man almost never heard from other inmates; “Thank you!”

  The old man nodded and continued his rounds to the other cells, although he skipped the ones where the inhabitants were screaming insanely or throwing bits of feces and whatever other nasty things they could get a hold of.

  Twenty minutes later he'd finished delivering presents to the all 'good' boys of Cell Block-A. He restarted the cart and waved up at one of the video cameras mounted on the wall to indicate that he was ready for someone to come open the interior door to the hallway leading out. While waiting, he looked over at the Young Blob who apparently liked art.

  George was staring intently at a photo on one of the pages in the art magazine. From his vantage point Carl couldn't tell what is was, just that it had a lot of color. He saw the look on the young man's face and could tell in addition to possessing basic manners the kid looked smart- very fat, but smart; and definitely significantly brighter than most of Bayonne Prison's other inhabitants.

  When a guard opened the big metal interior door, Carl nodded slightly and drove the puttering cart down the hallway.

  Vito watched from the window of his cell as Captain LaShod strolled down the access road toward the power building. It was an odd way for the captain to be walking. Sort of as if he's trying to act nonchalant or something. But, if that's his impression of not looking sneaky I can tell he was never a crook, Vito thought with a sly smirk on his face.

  When the captain arrived at the big vault-like door of the power building, Vito wasn't terribly surprised to see the same guard that had been at the main gate waiting for him. LaShod looked around as if he were afraid someone would see and started tapping a keypad beside the odd looking door of the power building.

  Vito saw the big door swing open by itself and both the captain and the young guard walked inside. He watched the big door automatically closing and ran a finger along his thin mustache for several seconds before looking down at the book Crazy Carl had loaned him.

&nbs
p; The movie had been very cool and he hoped the novel was even half as good.

  He looked at the title- The Green Mile, flopped down on his bunk and opened the tattered paperback. I hope it's not gory or gross- just scary like all the other books I've read by him, he thought and began to read.

  “How much stuff do you guys have in here?” Rikert asked as they walked down the hallway of the power station building.

  “I've had some of the other guards that I trust bringing food here for the last few days. A few cases here, a few there; I don't want anyone to know about this. If things get back to normal I can always put it back in the kitchen pantries, but if things go to shit I want an ace in the hole. Know what I mean?”

  “So, it's like a bunker?”

  “Exactly. If things start to go bad I'll key my walkie-talkie and say 'jail break'. That's the codeword. Nobody but you, me, and a handful of other guards that I trust, will know what it means. You hear that or if things start falling apart get your ass down here fast.

  There are over five thousand dangerous men in this prison. If they ever got out of their cells en masse this power building is going to be our Alamo. Forget about trying to hole up somewhere else and waiting for the cavalry. They ain't coming if things go bad. This building is the strongest and best protected in the whole facility.”

  “And it's got a shit load of food.”

  The captain nodded and smiled grimly before asking, “You got the door code memorized?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Not good enough. Recite it back to me.”

  Rikert went through the numeric code a few times before the captain smiled and nodded. “Okay, just don't forget it and for goodness sake don't do something stupid like writing it down. You understand me?”

  “Yes sir, and thanks. I won't let you down.”

  The captain looked at his watch and saw that the execution visitors would soon be arriving. “Go do your shift in the cafeteria, and remember to keep your mouth shut about this.”

  The young guard saluted and went back outside.

  LaShod waited until the large outer door clanged shut again before going into the computer maintenance room.

  Charles aka Crazy Carl parked the bookmobile cart in the storage shed built into the side of the library and plugged the battery charger up before tossing the left over magazines and paperback novels into a metal slot that went to the book return desk. He hit the button that activated the roll top door and watched it close all the way before going over to the electronic keypad mounted on the wall.

  He entered the access code and there was a soft yet audible click, before he pushed the heavy metal door open and entered the library itself.

  On the counter of the book return area he saw a candy wrapper and an open can of soda. Muttering grumpily, he tossed them in a trashcan and looked around for the only possible litter bug; his library aide, Bobby.

  Since the head librarian hadn't come in to work for over a week and it had only been Carl and Bobby there was no other suspect, unless some guard had come inside. But as shorthanded as Bayonne had been, the old man really doubted that possibility.

  Carl saw the door to the head librarian's office was propped open and caught a faint whiff of burning marijuana as he hurried over. When he yanked the door open he was not surprised to see the young man smoking a joint as he fooled around with the librarian's computer- disappointed but not surprised.

  “I thought I told you to quit fooling around with that thing. I'm a trustee. I vouched for you to come help keep the library in order, not to go fooling around and smoking reefer. This ain't no dang Jazz night club, in case you didn't notice,” Carl said, as he angrily crossed over to stand beside Bobby.

  The young man shook his head and tapped a few more keys before saying, “We've got problems. Much more serious than smoking a joint and you need to see that. I hacked into the administration servers again and finally managed to break the codes for the email accounts.”

  “Boy, you may be the smartest dumb ass I've ever known,” Carl said, picking up the nearly spent joint and tossing it into a cup of coffee. “Do you know what they'll do if they catch you fooling around in there?”

  The young man put on an over the top terrified look and whispered, “Oh no, you don’t think they’ll throw me in prison, do you.” Then shook his head and said, “Now just listen to me for a second. Do you have any idea what the governor has told the warden to do?”

  “That's none of your business or mine. Now, quit your fooling around and go sort the items in the book return. We've got less than two hours before a guard comes to escort us back to our cells.”

  Bobby sighed and turned to look at the old man. “Sit down and let me explain something that you need to know.” He saw Carl about to object and added, “Please. Just give me five minutes.”

  Carl looked at the monitors showing the lobby and exterior of the library, but didn't see anyone on the screens.

  “Relax, everything's cool. I scrambled the computer access codes to the exterior doors. Not even the warden could get in here right now.”

  Carl grunted, sat down in the librarian's high backed office chair, and crossed his arms over his old sunken chest. “You've got five minutes, and then you need to start sorting those returns.”

  “The governor has instructed Warden Massengail to...” Bobby started then paused to look at the computer screen before continuing, “And I quote: Begin sanitizing Bayonne's entire inmate population by nine tomorrow morning. A little further down in the email, it says the bodies should be disposed of over the south wall where the alligators will take care of any remaining evidence.’”

  Carl sat up on the edge of the chair and stared at the computer screen. He looked over the whole email message again before asking, “When did this come in?”

  Bobby clicked a button and said, “According to the receipt notation in the server, this email was delivered about thirty minutes ago and read by the warden twenty minutes later. He then sent a confirmation back with just one word: Understood.

  Then Massengail tried to delete it, but like most computer illiterates he thought if it was gone from his computer the file was actually deleted for good. The idiot doesn't understand that copies are kept on the central server until they're manually purged.”

  Carl leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his forehead with one hand while slowly stroking his puffy white and gray beard with the other.

  Bobby then turned back to the keyboard and started rapidly typing at the computer’s keyboard.

  The young man's skill in running computer scams and hacking into 'secure' systems was legendary in many of the darkest corners of the internet. Since the age of six he'd been honing his abilities on finding and exploiting the weaknesses of corporations and many governmental agencies computer systems throughout the world.

  In one secret account alone, he had nearly fourteen million dollars hidden in Switzerland under so many layers of confusing misdirection and aliases that no one from the prosecutors at his trial to the FBI had any chance of ever discovering it. The best part about that account was that it was still accumulating vast sums of money every day, even while Bobby was sitting in prison.

  It was such an audacious and elegantly designed scam that most people suckered in never even realized it for what is was and were only too happy to send in their money.

  Bobby had gotten the idea one day when he was running a number of proxy hidden scams that kept him from being directly associated with any of them. He had masked his identity through a series of satellite relays and proxy ports that allowed him to do his nefarious activities safe in the knowledge that if anyone went after him, they'd actually be busting down the door of a little eighty-four year old lady in Topeka Kansas named Agatha Martin.

  One day almost a year earlier Bobby noticed Agatha had attracted the attention of the FBI when she received a warning message that filled her computer screen which announced her activities had been monitored and recorded. He laug
hed and cleared her screen and then infected her computer’s hard drive with a specially designed virus. It was one he created in high school that would repeatedly replicate and erase itself until the hardware was fried beyond repair or recovery by law enforcement. He might technically have been a cyber criminal, but the last thing he wanted to do was to be responsible for an innocent old lady having a heart attack and dying when the feds came busting through her front door, and quite possibly finding herself under arrest.

  But before he wiped her computer clean of any traces of his activities, he saved a copy of the FBI warning and read it a few times before adding a few lines of creative text of his own. Twenty minutes later he'd established the blind banking account hidden through several proxies and multiplexing intermediaries that randomly changed nearly every fifteen seconds.

  The new message was basically the same as the original warning Agatha had received, but now included a locking effect which blocked users from getting rid of the warning and added a few frightening lines about a fictional new federal law that would result in arrest unless a fine of $200.00 was paid within twenty-four hours.

  He included simple directions on how people could go pay for a type of money card for the amount of the fine at any number of well known retail stores and how to use the code on the fake FBI warning page itself to unblock their computer. After placing the warnings on several notorious pornographic web sites where people sometimes uploaded and downloaded illegal images, and hiding the associated files for the message where the people running the websites wouldn't even be able to find them, he rigged the message and blocking program to randomly attach itself to visitors of the sites.

  The scam was more a game to Bobby than anything else, and he forgot about it for almost a month before he saw a similar warning pop up on a computer system he'd piggy backed onto in Albuquerque New Mexico. He cleaned Mrs. Gonzalez's computer of any incriminating evidence and went on to find another unguarded computer to use, but then decided to see if his scam had netted any suckers.