Zero, p.17
ZERO, page 17
The pair would now be governed by primal instincts, and maternal instincts are some of the strongest. With Cindy in the lead, they would be driven to venture out to her in-laws’ house, in order to “recruit” them and her children, the only other thing that she had cared about while she was alive. After that, what had been Cindy and Mars would be free to head off and wreak their havoc on the goth scene and groupies of LA. From there, it wouldn’t take long for the evolved broodsacs to spread, their presence hidden in the dark recesses of the goth clubs and disguised by the fact that their new hosts were already trying to look dead, or rather, undead.
In a sick turn of events, Mars and Cindy had both gotten their wishes. He had wanted only her, and she had wanted only escape from her mundane life. Now they were together again, just as he had wanted, and he had provided a way to “convince” her to run, or in their case stagger, away with him. There would be no more mundane life for her either.
And all that it had required on their part was becoming parasite-infested, mind-controlled zombies, thanks to a single serving of very scary escargot.
**--**--**
Quietus
By Christopher Beck
1
It began with the peck of a bird.
2
Langley, VA
Saturday, April 10th
8:43am
The starling sat on the limb of an oak, waiting. It was his usual morning perch; from it, he could see the small pond where a pair of wood ducks, also waiting, drifted lazily, as well as the parking lot. He was hungry and knew that breakfast was on the way.
Two minutes later, Charles Reed pulled into the parking lot. The spring breeze teased the few strands of hair that remained in the middle of his head and lifted the end of his tie when he climbed out of his car. In one hand was his briefcase, in the other a Ziploc bag filled with rainbow colored Goldfish. The starling and the ducks valued Reed’s punctuality almost as much as his peers did.
“Morning, you two,” Reed said as he stepped over the curb and onto the lush, green grass.
The wood ducks turned towards the sound of his voice and began to quack. The Starling said nothing; it just cocked its head and watched and waited.
“Ready for breakfast I see,” Reed said. “I’ve spoiled you two rotten.”
The ducks quacked at him some more. They swam hurriedly to the edge of the pond and walked up onto the shore. Their little tails and little butts wiggled with happiness.
“What would you two do if I ever left this place?”
Quack. Quack.
“You’re right; I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Reed set his briefcase down and opened the bag of Goldfish. The starling knew the sound just as well as the ducks did. It began to hop from foot to foot as its patience waned.
“Here ya go,” Reed said. He dipped his hand down in the Ziploc bag, scooped up some of the multi-colored fish-shaped crackers and tossed them on the ground around the ducks.
The wood ducks quacked in appreciation, and then began to gobble the Goldfish up.
The starling waited for a second, maybe two, after the last Goldfish hit the ground, then hopped off the tree branch and glided over to the pond. It landed on the shore, between the two ducks and began to steal their breakfast.
“Get out of here, you damned cretin.”
The ducks flinched at Reed’s raised voice but knew he was yelling at the greenish black bird between them. They, too, began yelling at the starling. The starling yelled back. The male wood duck opened his wings and flapped them at the unwelcomed quest. The starling snatched up another cracker, and then flew away. It went back to its perch in the oak, swallowed the cracker, and waited for Reed to throw out the next handful of Goldfish.
“Damn ugly thing,” Reed said. He watched the starling fly to the tree and then turned back to the ducks. “They’re almost as bad as seagulls. Rats with wings, nothing more, the lot of them.”
The ducks quacked in agreement. Reed threw them another handful of Goldfish then glanced as his watch.
“Well, time for me to head in,” Reed said. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast,” he glanced over and the starling in the tree, “and keep that one away. See you two Monday morning.”
Reed picked up his briefcase, turned, and made for the building. Behind him the starling cawed, without looking back he raised his hand and gave the bird the bird.
At the door he swiped his id card and entered the building.
“Morning, Reed,” John Bennett said as he stepped from the spacious security room. He was a burly young black man who looked like he could wrestle a bull to the ground. Two other guards, smaller in stature but just as tough, sat in the security room watching the monitors.
“Good Morning, Bennett,” Reed said. He placed his briefcase and the belt and watched as the x-ray machine swallowed it whole. He stepped through the metal detector, no problem, and extended his hand to Bennett. “I see they still haven’t shut the heat off.”
Bennett took Reed’s small hand in his mitt-sized one and laughed. “No, not yet,” he said. “You know how the brass is. The days may be warm, but the nights are still chilly. As long as the temp keeps dipping down below sixty, they’ll keep the heat cranking.”
“Feels like a fricking sauna in here,” Reed said. He plucked his briefcase of the belt when the machine spat it back out.
“You don’t have to tell me. Most of the people who work here come in complaining about it. Until the nights get warmer, we’ll all have to suffer together.”
It was Reed’s turn to laugh. “At least I’m not the only one. Have a good day, Bennett.”
“Thanks,” Bennett said, “you do the same.”
Reed went down the hall, nodded at man and woman stepping out of the elevator, made a left at the T, and entered the atrium.
As with the rest of the eleven-year-old building, no expense was spared during the construction of the atrium. The seven foot windows, their sills set three feet above the brightly polished floor, were stained glass and made the center room look like a cathedral. Above these windows were six-inch-by-five-foot windows paned with the same colored glass. The various trees, plants and flowers, and the sound of running water in the fountain at the center of the room gave it a vibrant rain forest feel. It was an odd combination, sure, but one that worked rather well.
Jeff Beasley, maintenance worker, stood before one of the giant windows turning the crank that opened the small rectangular window above it.
“Hiya, Beasley,” Reed said as he headed across the atrium. He looked up at the other windows and saw they were open.
“Morning,” Beasley said.
“I don’t think it’s going to help much.”
“I don’t think so either, but at least it’s something.”
“True. Can’t wait till they let you guys turn the air on. Have a good one.”
“Thanks,” Beasley said.
In the corridor on the other side of the atrium, Reed stopped at the first door on the left, unlocked the door and entered. He set his briefcase next to the desk against the far wall, glanced at his watch, 9:00 on the dot, and plucked his lab coat from the hook on the wall.
3
10:36am
The starling had not gone far after Reed entered the building. It stole some more of the Goldfish from the wood ducks, circled the building, like a buzzard over carrion a few times looking for scraps. It was on its way again to see if the Dumpster had yet to be left open when it found one of the open atrium windows. It landed on the sill and peeked its head in. People bustled around below.
Where there are people, the bird knew, there is always food. It hopped of the sill and glided down to the top of a small tree. Spying nothing to satisfy its greedy hunger, it drifted down to the water fountain for a drink. It dipped its beak, looked around, dipped its beak again and then was startled by a loud cough.
The Starling flew back to the treetop.
***
“What am I looking at, Jefferson?” Reed asked. His eyes were pressed against the lenses of a microscope.
“I’ll let Cohen tell you that,” Jefferson said. “This is her baby. I was just helping out along the way.” He glanced at his watch. “She should be here in a few minutes. Interesting, isn’t it?”
Reed zoomed in closer on the petri dish. “Very,” he said. “How long has she been working with this?”
“About seven months.”
Reed pulled his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is something special,” he said. “I cannot wait to hear what Cohen has to say. But first, I have to empty the bladder.”
“I need to use the head myself,” Jefferson.
Together they walked out of the lab and down the hall to the bathroom.
***
Someone dropped something and, when the coast was clear, the starling made a nosedive for the object. It landed next to it and gave it a peck. It wasn’t food, it was a pencil. The bird voiced its displeasure. It was a stubborn creature, however, and wasn’t easily deterred. It hopped along the floor looking for anything it could scavenge.
“Hey, get out of here.”
The voice came from behind, but the bird didn’t look to see to whom it belonged. It took flight once again. This time it stayed low and went down the corridor past the open door to Reed’s lab, past the bathroom Reed and Jefferson had just stepped into. Ahead, a door opened and a person stepped out. The starling turned on a dime and headed back in the direction from which it came. Instead of heading back to the atrium, however, it flew into Reed’s lab.
The starling quickly circled the room looking for a way out. Not finding one, it landed on the counter next to the microscope. Cocking its head from side to side, taking in its surroundings, the starling saw the Petri dish.
Curious, the starling used its beak to pull the Petri dish out from under the lens. The thick liquid within rippled when in landed on the counter. A clear, plastic lid kept the contents from spilling out and kept the bird from drinking them. Refusing to be denied, it pushed the Petri dish over the edge of the counter. The dish hit the linoleum floor, bounced up, did half a rotation, and hit the floor again. The lid came loose and the thick liquid began to pool on the floor. The starling, wasting no time, jumped to the floor and began to gobble it up.
When Reed and Jefferson returned to the room, the starling was still there on the floor, pecking at the contents of the Petri dish. For a moment both men were stunned by the sight.
“No, no, no,” Jefferson said.
“Goddamn it,” Reed said. “Quick, Jefferson, close the door.”
Jefferson doubled back to the door but it was too late. They had startled the starling and it zipped passed both of them and out the door. They followed the bird down the corridor to the atrium and watched as it escaped through one of the small, open windows.
“Shit,” Reed said. Jefferson agreed.
The starling flew to its original destination—the Dumpster. As it had hoped, one side of the lid was left opened. It landed inside and began to pick at the trash bags.
A short while later the bird’s quest for eats was cut short when its body began to convulse. It squawked in pain, and then fell over, dead.
The starling’s death was painful, but not everlasting. Twenty minutes after its breathing had ceased and its body sunk down amongst the trash bags, it blinked its eyes. It looked around as if confused, then hopped up to its feet, opened its wings and took flight.
4
Pine Haven, VA
12:00pm
Alison Day sat in the grass playing with her two favorite Barbie dolls. Her mother, Rebecca, was weeding her flower garden alongside the house. Alison’s 9th birthday party, which was a little more than a month away, was the topic of conversation between the dolls.
“Are you coming to my party?” the Barbie dressed as a lifeguard asked.
“What party?” said the one clad in a nurse’s outfit.
“My birthday party, don’t tell me you forgot. I gave you an invitation the other day at school.”
“Oh, is that what that was? I put it in my book bag but guess it got lost.”
“That’s okay. I can give you another if you want to come.”
“Yes. I would love to come to your party.”
“Great. Here is another invitation. Don’t lose it.”
“Oh, thank you. I won’t lose it.”
The two Barbie dolls hugged.
“Mommy,” Alison said in her normal voice, not the ones she was using for her dolls. “Can we have a Slip N’ Slide at my party?”
“I don’t see why not,” Rebecca said.
“Yay, thank you,” Alison said. She turned her attention back to her Barbie dolls. The one dressed as a lifeguard told the one dressed as a nurse to wear her bathing suit when she came to the party.
Rebecca stood and brushed off her knees. “I’ve got to use the bathroom, bugga.”
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Alright, but I’m going to fix us some lunch soon.”
“Okay, mommy,” Alison said.
No sooner had Rebecca walked into the house did the starling show up. Yes, that starling. It landed on the fence that surrounded the property and studied Alison with unblinking eyes.
Alison didn’t know that the European bird was considered a pest. Nor did she think it was ugly, as most people did. To her it was another bird, not as cute as some, but a nice bird none the less. So, instead of telling it to “get” when she saw it sitting on the fence, she welcomed it.
“Hey, birdy,” Alison said. The starling cocked its head at the sound of her voice. “Are you hungry?” She pointed to her right. “If so there is a bird feeder over there.”
The starling, showing no fear, flew from the fence and landed on the ground five feet away from Alison.
“I don’t have anything for you. The food is over there.”
The bird hopped forward a few times and then stopped. Alison had never had a bird come this close to her before. It frightened her slightly, but excited her a lot. She turned to tell her mom to look, and then remembered that she had gone to use the bathroom. When she turned back, the bird was closer. It was now only two feet away.
“Hey,” Alison said, “do you want to be my pet? Is that why you’re coming so close?”
The starling turned is head from one side to the other.
“Huh? Is that what you want?” The bird hopped closer. “I don’t know if my mom would let me keep you.” She reached out her hand. The bird was inches from her fingertips. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”
Then the starling lurched forward and quickly pecked Alison on the back of her hand… once, twice, thrice…before she jerked it away with a scream.
“Alison, hunny, are you okay?” Rebecca said as she hurried out of the house. “What happened?”
Alison sat holding her hand limply in front of her. She supported her arm by gripping the wrist with her other hand. The starling stood its ground in front of her. If her mom hadn’t come out when she did the bird would have attacked again. “The bird bit me!” she cried. Tears washed down her cheeks.
As if the starling knew it was being talked about, it cawed and took flight. Alison and Rebecca watched it until it was out of sight.
“Here,” Rebecca said kneeling down next to her daughter, “let me see.”
“It hurts!”
“I know it does, baby.”
Rebecca gently took the wounded hand into hers. There were three angry red spots on the back of it, and blood leaked out from two of them.
“It got you pretty good.”
“P-please don’t touch it!” Alison cried.
“Relax,” Rebecca said, “I’m not. But we need to go in and clean it up.”
“Are you going to put peroxide on it?”
“Yes.”
The idea of peroxide being poured onto her wounded hand intensified Alison’s fear and panic, and brought forth more tears.
“No, no, no. Please don’t put any on it. It’s going to hurt.”
“No it’s not,” Rebecca said. She hated lying to her daughter, but knew that the wounds had to be cleaned. “You don’t want you hand to get infected, do you?”
“No.”
“Then we have to wash it out with peroxide. Okay?”
“No.”
“Okay?”
“But it’s going to hurt! It hurt before, when I cut my foot, and it’s going to hurt this time, too.”
“You’ll be fine, bugga. Now let’s go take care of this.”
Before Alison could protest some more, Rebecca helped her to her feet and guided her to her house, through the mud room, across the kitchen, and into the bathroom.
“Sit on the side of the tub. We’ll pour some peroxide on you hand, wash it, and the bandage it.”
Alison was still panicked, still trembling, but her breathing had evened some, and her tears weren’t coming forth as fast. “I hate that bird,” she said. “I was only being nice to it and it bit me; stupid bird.”
Rebecca went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of peroxide. “I’m surprised it got that close to you. Usually wild birds don’t do that.”
“Maybe it was someone’s pet and it got loose.”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said, “but I don’t think so. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of someone keeping a Starling as a pet.” She sat on the tub next to her daughter and uncapped the brown bottle. “Okay, put your hand in the tub.”
Alison’s body tensed up a little at the sight of the bottle of peroxide.
“It’s alright, Alison, it’s not going to hurt.”
