Read Online War of the Undead (Day One): The Apocalypse Crusade (A Zombie Tale) by Peter Meredith - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Meredith
Tags: Zombies
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just then he seemed more like a stage actor than a scientist.
Kip smiled suddenly, breaking the tension that had built up. “But we shouldn’t be worrying about any of that. Not today. Not when we have a cure for cancer in our sites. This is not another of the vague promises of some far away tomorrow that we’ve all grown accustomed to. I’m talking about a cure using a combined cell process that unleashes the natural healing power within all of us. Think about it, no more radiation, no more chemo, no more losing our hair. And what’s better, no more useless deaths.”
Another pause allowed that to sink in. He nodded to each reporter and said, “I’m sure you have some more questions.”
There were, lots of them, and he answered them easily, fluidly, and no one questioned Kip’s veracity. He had cemented in their minds the concept that he and R & K research Industries were the good guys here. This had been is ultimate aim. Things had been going steadily downhill for the company; shareholders were losing confidence, stock prices were plummeting, capital was drying up right when he needed it to finish the new facility.
So Kip had orchestrated this little song and dance, and he had played the reporters like a virtuoso. No one asked if Mrs. Rothchild had died of a different form of pancreatitis than the one they were being investigated over. And no one questioned who the rude the reporter was.
They had no idea that the man was actually a local actor and had been handsomely paid to play the villain. Not even Rothchild knew. Edmund was far too innocent, far too naïve in his view of the world. He stood there shaking, casting sad glances at the pictures Kip had made sure to have on hand just for the press conference.
They would go back in his office drawer at the end of the day. They were, after all, just a prop to Kip.
2
Ryan Deckard
Walton Facility, 60 Miles North of New York City
Deck was supposed to be impressed by the buildings and the grounds, then again the facility was supposed to have been completed by then. It wasn't.
"This is what happens when people can't make up their minds," Hal Kingman said in his own defense. He was the lead architect in charge of the Walton Facility and Deck wasn't impressed by him either. The man had on a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The way he wore it seemed almost to mock the construction workers who were busy as bees in every building. It was as though Hal was just about to do some actually work. "Ask me what I'm supposed to throw all my men into today? Go ahead."
Deckard just kept walking to the main building. He wasn't there to play guessing games; he was there to check the state of security in this supposed fortress-like facility. In his opinion it looked like a college campus, and a pretty one at that. The existing trees had been preserved during construction so they could throw their shade over the winding walkways and the stately red, brick buildings, while shoots of ivy, perennials, and shrubs of all sorts were being nurtured so that in a few years Deck figured the place would resemble the Garden of Eden.
Other than a glance, he ignored the trimmings and the opulence just like he ignored Hal.
Hal's smile failed him, as Deck didn't play along. He hurried to keep up with the taller man. "Well, I'll tell you: yesterday it was security. Today it's the hospital. Do you know they want to have the fifty-bed hospital up and running in four weeks and three days? Who knows what they'll want prioritized tomorrow?"
"The fence," Deck answered him, stopping suddenly and pointing at the black, wrought iron fencing that went around the property. The fence was fine for stopping a few teenagers from getting in and sprawling graffiti on the walls but it wouldn't slow a professional for more than a few seconds. "At a minimum it should be fifteen feet high. I want a team replacing it tomorrow."
Hal looked at the fence in surprise. There was nothing
Kip smiled suddenly, breaking the tension that had built up. “But we shouldn’t be worrying about any of that. Not today. Not when we have a cure for cancer in our sites. This is not another of the vague promises of some far away tomorrow that we’ve all grown accustomed to. I’m talking about a cure using a combined cell process that unleashes the natural healing power within all of us. Think about it, no more radiation, no more chemo, no more losing our hair. And what’s better, no more useless deaths.”
Another pause allowed that to sink in. He nodded to each reporter and said, “I’m sure you have some more questions.”
There were, lots of them, and he answered them easily, fluidly, and no one questioned Kip’s veracity. He had cemented in their minds the concept that he and R & K research Industries were the good guys here. This had been is ultimate aim. Things had been going steadily downhill for the company; shareholders were losing confidence, stock prices were plummeting, capital was drying up right when he needed it to finish the new facility.
So Kip had orchestrated this little song and dance, and he had played the reporters like a virtuoso. No one asked if Mrs. Rothchild had died of a different form of pancreatitis than the one they were being investigated over. And no one questioned who the rude the reporter was.
They had no idea that the man was actually a local actor and had been handsomely paid to play the villain. Not even Rothchild knew. Edmund was far too innocent, far too naïve in his view of the world. He stood there shaking, casting sad glances at the pictures Kip had made sure to have on hand just for the press conference.
They would go back in his office drawer at the end of the day. They were, after all, just a prop to Kip.
2
Ryan Deckard
Walton Facility, 60 Miles North of New York City
Deck was supposed to be impressed by the buildings and the grounds, then again the facility was supposed to have been completed by then. It wasn't.
"This is what happens when people can't make up their minds," Hal Kingman said in his own defense. He was the lead architect in charge of the Walton Facility and Deck wasn't impressed by him either. The man had on a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The way he wore it seemed almost to mock the construction workers who were busy as bees in every building. It was as though Hal was just about to do some actually work. "Ask me what I'm supposed to throw all my men into today? Go ahead."
Deckard just kept walking to the main building. He wasn't there to play guessing games; he was there to check the state of security in this supposed fortress-like facility. In his opinion it looked like a college campus, and a pretty one at that. The existing trees had been preserved during construction so they could throw their shade over the winding walkways and the stately red, brick buildings, while shoots of ivy, perennials, and shrubs of all sorts were being nurtured so that in a few years Deck figured the place would resemble the Garden of Eden.
Other than a glance, he ignored the trimmings and the opulence just like he ignored Hal.
Hal's smile failed him, as Deck didn't play along. He hurried to keep up with the taller man. "Well, I'll tell you: yesterday it was security. Today it's the hospital. Do you know they want to have the fifty-bed hospital up and running in four weeks and three days? Who knows what they'll want prioritized tomorrow?"
"The fence," Deck answered him, stopping suddenly and pointing at the black, wrought iron fencing that went around the property. The fence was fine for stopping a few teenagers from getting in and sprawling graffiti on the walls but it wouldn't slow a professional for more than a few seconds. "At a minimum it should be fifteen feet high. I want a team replacing it tomorrow."
Hal looked at the fence in surprise. There was nothing
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