Zombie Zero Read Free

here.”
    The general could see him through the thick glass. Ryan had his back to them, and he turned at the words. There was obvious relief on his face, and he stepped to the lighted screen on the other side of the glass to put his hand on it.
    “Open doors for five seconds, then resume lockdown,” the doctor said loudly. “Authorization code-”
    The glass slid aside, and he broke off.
    The general stepped through immediately. The other man hesitated, and the doors slid shut just after he slipped through them.
    Ryan frowned. “I’m not sure you want him to see this.”
    The general remembered all the other times Ryan had been dramatic about something. He had found himself peering into a microscope, or at a lighted screen, staring at some swirl of colors or line of numbers that were as incomprehensible as the scientist’s accompanying explanation. Ryan had never put the place on lockdown, but he did get a little too excited about his research from time to time. It had been part of what had prompted the general to ask him to buy him a beer after work, all those beers ago. The general didn’t talk about his job, except to be grateful for it; Ryan was obsessed with his work. More than once the general had hushed the other man in a crowded bar, laughing while he reminded him that the topic of conversation was top secret.
    “It will be fine,” the general assured Ryan. “We are all aware that only half of this facility is a matter of public record. As far as the world is concerned, we are all just prison guards here. We house political and religious prisoners of war, and that is the only thing we do. All of our research is done in a facility that does not exist by doctors that officially work at other sites in other capacities. Technically, Doctor Ryan, you’re not even here, nor is there a here in which to be. Officially, nothing that happens down here actually happens; it’s why you have carte blanche when it comes to what and how you research. Surely our young sergeant is aware of all of this.”
    The sergeant was listening, wide-eyed while the general spoke. When the words ended with a calm proclamation about his nonexistent knowledge, he only hesitated for a moment. Then, he nodded. He looked as frightened and anxious as Ryan when he did.
    “Sir,” the sergeant gulped. “Yes, sir.”
    The general turned to Ryan. “Show us.”
    “Well, first I have to tell you,” he responded. “You need some context before you see anything.”
    “Talk fast, then,” the general said, glancing at his watch. “I have meatloaf waiting. And use words that we might actually understand wherever possible.”
    “In all seriousness, this will make waiting on Tina’s meatloaf well worth it, General.” The doctor was falling into his usual measured vocal cadence. The general shook his head, in disapproval at the personal concession, and in disbelief. Ryan had tasted Tina’s meatloaf; this must be serious indeed.
    “Okay, Chris,” Roberts replied. “Then tell us.”
    “You know, of course, that there is a genetic sequence coded into every human’s DNA that is dormant,” the doctor began.
    “Let’s just assume we don’t know anything,” the general smiled.
    “Well, everyone should know that,” Ryan scoffed. “If you’re going to carry extra genetic baggage around everywhere, you should at least be aware of it.”
    “We are carrying extra genetic material?” The general frowned. “As baggage?”
    The doctor waved his hand. “Of course not; I’m using layman terminology, as requested. It makes more sense when I can just say that there is an inactive section of the human DNA strand that appears to serve no actual purpose.”
    “Is that exciting news?” the sergeant asked. Apparently he was paying even less effective attention than the general.
    “Of course not!” the scientist cried. “Everyone knows that!”
    The general allowed himself a small smile.
    “Doctor Ryan,” he said calmly. “Please