Gone (Book 2 of the Dark Night Series)

---PART ONE---

         We waited. And waited until it got too cold that I had to go and sit in one of the limos. It was snowing furiously and the plane was expected 10 minutes ago. We didn't know where he was or why he was late. But as I sat in the limo, the time kept ticking away. Where could he be? I wiped my glove against the frosted window showing a small plane coming in the distance. I checked my Rolex. It was a little over an hour later than they said they would arrive. I stepped out as soon as it landed, just in time for the doors of the plane to open. I stood at the end waiting for the man of the hour. As he stepped off the plane, two men behind his carried his belongs. My black hair waved in the snowy wind.
         “Good-d afternoon, Mr. President,” Chris S. Kennedy stuttered to me with his pale frostbitten lips. I don’t know if he stuttered because he was cold or nervous. My guess was his nerves were getting to him. He was standing as straight as he could get, I could tell. He was sweating from his forehead, making every attempt not to faint. This was a common thing I began to notice as I took office. People were surprised when they met me, a pretty average guy with a title before his name. Though I guess I would do the same if I was met by the leader of the free world when I wasn't expecting it.
         “Good afternoon to you also, Agent Kennedy,” I said, “Have you any details from your mission?”
         “Why yes, sir! I have brilliant evidence that Russia is…”
         “Save that for the meeting. For now you have a fan club to meet with,” The crowd, made up of mainly CIA agents and other agents, were clapping behind the two of us as we walked to the limos with the tinted windows. He waved to the fellow surveyors as we drove in our separate limos, leaving the past behind us and the future close ahead.
---
         It was said that Russia was planning some type of chemical that could make their enemies weak, something like mustard gas but it wasn’t to kill the enemy, but to help support the Russians. We found out about this when we sent three troops over to Russia less than a year ago. Luckily no one was hurt, or even seen for the matter, when they were observing this strange contusion. When I heard about it I knew we would need our best man to go and investigate under a ‘secret mission’. That is why Kennedy is now the hero of the century. Well at least for America. The United States hasn’t told this secret, since we now have to learn how to attack. It was like how we attacked Bin Laden way back in 2011. We spent several weeks training to do one simple task. And we accomplished it. Yet now we have to another task. This time we’re not taking down one person, but an entire country.
         It won’t be an easy task since most of our nuclear equipment has been demolished after the WWT, the World Wide Treaty. This treaty was to make no war whatsoever with any other country. And if one country would fight, the whole world would go into a World War 3, something no one wanted to happen due to the economy finally coming together after years of rebuilding. It may have taken almost 15 years but we had finally done it. And I wasn’t going to be the one to destroy it. It’s like your child had been building a Lego statue and you one day think it’s taking up too much space in the living room so you smash it; brick by brick. How would I know? I don’t even have kids! Heck, I’m the most insouciant person I know! I chuckled at my dry humor.
---
         It wasn’t until a few days after the plane landed that Kennedy and I sat down to discuss his endeavors. He told me about all that had happened over in Russia, the city, his view from the window and finally the mission. He told me he tracked his mission throughout his journal, reading some small excerpts. One of the writings was quite interesting. It was what I wanted to hear about: his ambush.
11/15/2025
         “We broke in through the rooftop and used our ropes to get down, but something was not right. The building was a mess and there was mud in a state that only could have happened if a body was dragged across. There was blood were there was never blood before. The rope we used to swing down snapped. That usually does not happen. But hey, these kinds of missions don’t usually happen either. This was starting to get suspicious. We moved to the secret part of the facility, something was different it was not foggy, but it smelled like death. I took a deep breath of whatever it was and I coughed violently. Then we were trapped by the doors closing around us. It was General Shubin. Gas started to pour in and we were stuck.”
          “It wasn’t until after I took a breath I felt nauseated,” He said, “I knew I shouldn’t have but I had to be in there.” Chris looked nervous yet this is what we wanted him to do. We need him to try this formula out to see if it was just a myth or if we really needed to take matters into our own hands. And apparently, we did.
---
         When he left the room, he forgot his journal. I called one of the Secret Service agents to take it to his residence but then I understood him. I understood his curiosity level because now I was indulged in his writing. I kept reading his journal; reading how he missed his wife and kids, how he felt about the city, even about his own life. The one page that struck me was kind of odd. It talked about when he was a little boy how he despised the United States for what they did to Russia during the Cold War. It then went on to talk about how he despised us again after we nuked the Japanese. It then went on to talk about his secret mission, yet the odd thing about it was it wasn’t the one this journal was on. It was about him being sent to Russia by the Japanese. It seems they wanted him to also find out what Russia was doing, as if they had gotten a hold of some of the information from our mission months ago.
         If he was working for them, I thought to myself, is he betraying us? Or could the US and Japan go together on the attack on Russia? I kept reading, trying not to assume before I went on. Later down the page it was talking about the information about the gas and how it was being used, as if he had an insider thought to it. Is Japan now trying to help the Russians? How could he do such a thing? Then it struck me. This man that was the acclaimed ‘hero’ was really a double agent. Scratch that, a triple agent. He was working for Japan and the US trying to find out what ever Russia was doing, yet while doing so he was also was relaying what the US was thinking of doing to Russia. It was as if everything we put up to the plate at the moment was just thrown in the trash. But how could we tell if this man was on our team? But there was only one answer: He wasn’t fully on our team; he was a third on our team. And to be on my team, you need to be one hundred percent.
---
         Immediately after reading just the slightest bit I knew I couldn’t trust this man. I picked up the phone and called Chris to come in and speak to me. He said he would be over as soon as he was done eating with his wife. I was waiting anxiously for his arrival. Only this time, he wouldn’t be late.
---
         “President Minors, we have a visitor,” The radio clocked in. I waited hesitantly at my desk until I heard the door open. I sat up straighter than I already had been. When he stood by the door, his eyes were a dark black shade that made him look surprisingly evil. He had an agent standing right behind him.
         “Hello, Mr. Kennedy. Why don’t you take a seat and we can discuss your journal,” I said pointing to the dark wooden chair in front of my desk.
         His eyes opened wide. I noticed his eyes were turning darker every second. He came running toward me with his mouth wide out, ready to strike. I sat there motionless, that is until I heard a loud gut shot. It went right through Kennedy’s heart. He stood there, grasping the bullet hole that was now in his chest. As he fell down the gunman was reviled. Tim Barton, a Secret Service agent, was standing, gun in hand. His combat suit was under his white dress shirt, making a very big bulge.
         “Mr. President,” he said, “I don’t think you’re very safe here.”
         “It’s Eric from now on. Now let’s get out of here.”
         “Sir,” he said as we walked out of the room, stepping over Kennedy’s body, “I think this is what he was talking about, a zombie apocalypse.”
         As we left the room, we looked down the hallway. It was actually a frightening sight. My secretary, Barb, was missing from her desk. And a small trickle of blood was running from it into the kitchen.
         “What the hell…” Barton said, shocked.
         We walked in the kitchen and noticed that there was blood all over the floor. Then the something even stranger happened; the door shut. And with that the main chef was reviled, blood dripping from the side of his thick, black neck. Barton shot him in the shoulder, missing his chest. The zombie was obviously raged at this and came rushing for our souls. He ran to us and Barton shot him multiple times in the chest before he sank beneath our feet.
         “I don’t think they die anywhere else but if you shoot them in their heart,” Barton explained to me, “It’s not the normal type of zombies we are used to.”
         We stepped over the zombie and heard pots and pans banging and crashing to the floor. We looked around for more of these things. Hopefully Kennedy didn’t make too much of an army. And if he did, we could kill them off before it spread across the city; then country; then the world. We walked on, slowly, until we heard every door shut in the room. We were trapped. They came from every angle, surrounding us until they made a ring. The cooks, the waitresses, even another Secret Service agent.
         “Time to die ‘ya sonsof…” Barton screamed before his words were cut short by the sound of gun shots echoing throughout the kitchen. I ducked down, not having a weapon of any sort. Bullets were hitting the wall and sometimes hitting zombies. And when they did, the zombies, one by one, would all fall down bleeding from their hearts and other internal organs.
         Shells from the bullets were falling onto the ground where I was. When they fell blood would spatter and go onto my suit coat. Bits and pieces of skin and muscle would fall onto me making me shiver. I always was scared of blood from a young age, when I saw my father being killed in front of my own eyes. But now wasn’t the time to discuss stories of death; now was the time to prevent the story of mine.
---
         After all the zombies were dead, I got up, wiping muscles and skin off of me.
         “Hey Mr. Presid…”
         “Eric.”
         “Eric…um, I think you’ll need this,” Barton hands me a handgun from his belt. I took the pistol out of his hand and studied it, looking at the small silver trigger down to the black grip on the handle. “Now don’t be shooting you eye out kid.” He said with a chuckle, probably one of the last laughs I’ll ever hear unless I get out of here alive.
         “Where do I go?” I asked, trying not to act scared. I was secretly frightened inside.
         “Run; hide; whatever you have to do to survive,” He said with a straight face. “Heck we might be the only ones alive in this place. Have you found your wife yet?”
         I completely forgot about her to be truthful. After I thought for less than a half a second I ran up the closest staircase I could find. As I ran up the stairs I fell down after tripping on a trail of blood. My leg began to hurt and I knew my leg was injured. I used all my might to crawl up the steps hoping no zombies would be awaiting me at the end. I clutched the trigger of the gun, waiting to strike. As I reached the end I looked around the one corner with my right eye quickly; nothing. Then I looked around the other one. That’s when I was greeted to a helpful surprise. My vice president, Matt Marks.
         “Thank God you’re here!” He gleefully said. His black hands were hidden behind his back. His bald head shined in the dimness of the room. He looked nervous.
         “Have you seen any?”
         “Any what? Zombies?” He whispered.
         He screamed out loud as a man suddenly came up behind him. He looked perfectly normal except for the black eyes. He began to scratch his nails along Mark’s back. His eyes turned dark black and he shook viciously. Then he fell to the ground where a pool of his blood was from when the man scratched him. Matt looked at me, smiling. Then they both charged at me.
         I pulled the gun up from my waist and aimed it at his head. It hit his eye, making the eyeball fall out, hanging by a strand of muscle. Why isn’t he dead? I shot again, this time at his throat making him come at me faster. In an instant, I shot him directly in the heart. The bullet went through his thin body and into the man behind him. Marks fell to the ground yet the other man kept coming at me. He picked me up my one arm and used one of his nails to begin to scratch my suit coat. I used the gun from my other hand and pistol whipped him in the face making him fall down.
         Scared, I aimed the gun at his heart and shot him. The bullet hit him in the side of the heart making him breathe slowly. He reached his one arm out toward me, making his last breath. I took a deep breath picking myself up. I noticed the blood on my suit coat was soaking into dress shirt. I threw off the coat, leaving it overtop of Matt.
         “I’m sorry.” I said to the deceased body. It was a terrible end to his journey. Hopefully it won’t be the same for me.

---PART TWO---

         “RACHEL!” I began to scream as my voice got raspy, “RACHEL!” I sure hope she’s hiding. I ran down the next hallway, leaving the two dead zombies behind. Nothing was there. No blood; nobody; nothing. I slowly kept walking, pointing the gun in front of where I was going. As I was walking, I kicked open every door making sure there weren’t any alive people inside. I took one step after kicking open one door before I felt a person’s hand touch my shoulder. I jumped and turned around only to reveal my wife whose blonde hair was in a mess. She was crying making her makeup come along with her tears.
         “You’re here!” she said with relief. “I can’t believe you’re alive. That is until I heard you screaming my name. I didn’t even think I would stay after that black eyed freak scratched me...”
         “Scratched you?” I looked at her wrist which was bleeding. She held it with her other hand to clot the wound.
         “It just scratched me and then it was shot by some guy in the green room. He told me to go upstairs and hide.”
         “Honey you have the disease now. You’re one of them,” I said. Shocked I could even say it, she stared at me.
         “What do you mean? It scratched me. It’s not like it carries a disease in its nails.”
         Then that’s when it struck her. Her eyes slowly turned black revealing the disease, showing her new true nature. She looked at me with her eyes and trembled with her words.
         “Save…me,” she whispered. “One last kiss…Before I die.”
         She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. She was going to bite me, passing on the disease. I shed a tear before I pointed the gun into her mouth and shot her. She fell back covering up her mouth. When she put down her bloody hands she talked, showing the bullet hole in the back of her throat.
         “Why are you holding the gun? Do you think I’ll bite?” She cried with blood dripping from the bottom of her chin.
         She then walked toward me and went to kiss me again. I held her mouth shut and kissed her pale, delicate forehead.
         “I’m sorry.”
         I shot her in the heart with the gun, using one of my last bullets. She fell onto the ground with her eyes open. I shut them and placed her on the ground, covering up the now clotting scar on her wrist.
         I don’t know what made me stop but I did. I cried on her chest for a short minute. My hand became covered in her blood. I felt her skin turn ice cold, possibly an after effect from the disease. As I got up, I found the bloody bullet that I had used to shot her mouth mounted into the wall behind her. I checked my gun and noticed I had one bullet left.
---
         As I kept walking, reliving the dreadful memory that would now would haunt my dreams. Just the thought of her now made my stomach sick. I vomited into the nearest vase of flowers I could find that was available. I put my hand against the wall to pick myself up, leaving behind a bloody handprint across the wall. No one else was roaming the halls. I went into a room that was facing the front yard. I shut the door so no one would see me. It had a window that I looked out of. The people walking the streets would soon be like my wife, dead; dead as in zombie or permanently deceased. My country would be a living hell. A place where no one would move to or even dare think about. We would have to rebuild. Redo everything that was finally just working out. Everything would make a turn for the worse. I took a deep breath as I sat in the room. I looked around and closed my tear filled eyes.
         I got even so bored as to start reciting Celine Dion lyrics.
         Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door and you’re here in my heart and my heart will go on and on.
         It reminded me of her. Yet it also made me want to find a cure for this. Mostly just to stop all the madness. And to one day make the United States a livable place. I knew it would take a little but I’d be farther than dead by the time that happens.
         I sat in the chair and closed my eyes. I took slow breaths making every one of them count. And that’s when I knew it was over. The door slammed open and Tim Barton ran toward the window, pointing his gun backward at the incoming zombies. He shot one of them in the knee and it slowly fell. He must not have even noticed me while he was running. He kept shooting until he jumped out of the window, smashing it to tiny pieces.
         I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it. Now it was me who has lost all his time. The zombies were now coming toward me. Mouths open. Some were coming with their nails. I took a deep breath and brought up the gun toward the bottom of my jaw. The gun touched my Adam’s apple as I gulped. I thought of my wife and that’s when I remembered the next part of the lyrics:
         Love can touch us one time and last for a lifetime. And never let go till we’re gone.
         And in that small second, I put my finger on the trigger, and I was gone.

---THE END---