New York, 2012
The gay businessman was holding onto his brown, leather suitcase. He had short, brown hair, hazel eyes, and tall. He wore glasses, because he was short-sighted. He gazed at the people of New York; he saw the green colored hand sign, and walked along 131st Street, and 7th Avenue.
As he checked out the coffee shop, he knew that Mr. Richardson, the President of Bio-Lab Industries, would read about his report on the Zombies. He scoffed at the idea that the dead would rise up, and bite the living. He had seen too many horror B movies to know that the creatures would feed on the flesh of the living, or die by bullets to the head, killing the brain stem in the process. On the briefcase was his name: Graham Morse. He looked at the regulars who were watching football on TV; he knew they were reading the New Yorker, and were engrossed in the in-depth articles, or seeing what movie was at the cinema to be reviewed. Everyone was grinning, as he saw Betsy James, the head waitress, say: 'Help you, Sir?', she asked. 'Yes, I'd like a medium coffee, and blueberry cheesecake please', he answered. '$7.50', Betsy stated.
He gave her a $10 note.
Then he sat down on one of the spare, grey chairs, and relaxed.
It was 7:45 AM, Monday morning.
***
Colonel Edward Holder smoked a cigarette.
He gazed at Professor Gina Ambler.
'Project Deadline is ready'.
'Zombies are coming to New York, Colonel'.
'Nothing will happen, Gina. Trust me'.
But she wasn't sure, and prayed to God that nothing bad will happen.
***
Tracey Barker shivered.
It was a cold, July morning in the city that never sleeps. In her bedroom, she had a poster of Midway, the 1976 war epic movie. 'Are you ready for school?', Anne Barker asked her daughter. 'Yes, Mom', she answered. She had long, black hair, brown eyes, and petite. Her face was clear from pimples. At twelve, she had been reading a lot of books on survival, and the Apocalypse. She walked out of the room. Ty Barker, her fourteen year old brother, was getting ready for school. He had long, black hair, hazel eyes, and tall. He was a Metallica fan. 'Get a hair cut', Tracey said. 'Soon', Ty said. He smiled, and waited for the end to begin.
***
Graham Morse opened the door.
He saw the hot grilles.
For a long time, no one worked there except the New York Sewage Manager, Jim Lowenstein, had died from pneumonia back in 1978. Other Managers from the late 1979 to the late 1990's, died young died under mysterious circumstances until R. P. Nathanson, Jr., the New York Mayor at City Hall, was elected in the cold, December morning of 2001, when 9/11 happened on September of that month, changing America forever.
Graham saw rotten claws in the grilles.
They scratched at his right thigh.
'Ouch!!!', he screamed.
The girl zombie's red eyes flared in hideous triumph.
He was infected, and his body collapsed into a violent spasm.
The mania of the Zombies had started.
***
Colonel Edward Holder looked at the sheet in front of him.
'It's a mess up', he told Doctor Jane Garr.
'The Zombies are smart, but not stupid'.
'And the point is....'.
'They're house in the Shelter. It's Military, and the scientists are working on the Project. If they escape...'.
'They won't escape', the Colonel said.
And he hoped that he was right.
If he wasn't, he would resign.
***
Margaret Kaplan, the Principal of the Hiddleston High School, watched the screen. She focused on the ZNN cable news services. She had hoped, and wished, that the nightmares of the past wouldn't come to back to hurt her. It was 8:28 AM. Two minutes until the first bell rang for class. She brushed off the straggly parts of her long, blonde hair; she was dressed in a formal dress. Her eyes flickered at the window.
Four zombies were biting into their fingers, bone broke.
And the blood spilled.
She screamed in horror, and called 9-1-1, and asked for the Police.
***
New York Police Chief Harold Manning, III, looked at the sheet in front of him. In his view, the scientists could rot in hell; his face was full of rage, since the Project was born in 1973, when Professor Andrew Harrison, an Oxford University graduate, emigrated to the United States back in 1971. 'Genetic extraction procedure', he called it.
He knew that the scientists were mad back then. They were weren't like the horror books, and movies, of the childhood; they weren't real. But, to him, the Project came out to test the deep waters and stayed there. Now, in the 21st Century, the last century's failings had caused mayhem across America. It was 2012. Not 1912. People had talked up the past; people didn't talk about the here and now. He heard the blaring sirens from Fort Abraham, which was three miles from Ellis Island. According to rumors, there was six hundred zombies in cells.
He grabbed the I-phone.
'Davis, secure New York now'.
'Yes, Sir', Davis Herring said.
And then all hell broke loose.
***
To be continued...
***
This is a revised version of Mania of the Zombies. The original version was on Wattpad.
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