Zombie Lockup Series (Book 2): Caged 2 Read online

  Jack circled the room, scratching his stubble. He needed to think of a way to get the plan back on track. And more importantly, re-establish him at the top of the food chain in C-Pod. If the others smelled blood in the water about his failure then he would be fighting off much more than Muncie’s fat ass, he thought.

  “Let me think. I can’t concentrate with all this shit going on. Get these motherfuckers outta my room before I clean house.” He shot a look at Swede. In his mind, throwing his weight around again would reset the pecking order and draw attention to his ire as opposed to the failed riot. Jack took a few steps in the direction of 8-Ball.

  Joker brushed past Jack on his way out of the room. BJ squeezed out of the room ahead of Joker. Frenchie strutted until Swede tossed him through the door frame. 8-Ball glared at Jack. “This shit ain’t over, you muthafuckin cracker.”

  Swede punched 8-Ball in the gut and the smaller man doubled over to catch his escaped wind. Frenchie turned around and dragged 8-Ball out into the general population. Swede used his body to shut off access to the room. Melvin cleared his throat.

  “Don’t go anywhere, Melvin.” Jack rested a hand on Melvin’s shoulder. “I need you.”

  Melvin chuckled. “Whatchoo gonna use an old man for?”

  “For his fucking brains unless he throws in the towel and gives up like a fucking pussy.” Jack stared into Melvin’s eyes for a moment. A slow smirk spread across his lips.

  “Shee-it, Jack. You gonna kill me one of these days.” Melvin clutched at his chest. He glanced up at Swede whose expression never flinched from a stony faced mountain.

  Jack plopped down on Swede’s bunk. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He hoped nobody noticed the shakiness of the adrenaline dump trying to work its way out of his system. All he could see was Muncie’s laughing face filling up the small window on the door. He wanted to squeeze the life out of Muncie with his bare hands. Jack tried to remember hating anybody this much before. The closest was his old man. And even that wasn’t close.

  “First order of business is keeping everyone in check. The first motherfucker that steps out of line has to be made an example or else this shit cart will be turned upside down.”

  Melvin nodded. “My money is on the NWA, 8-Ball. He dumber than a pile of dog shit in a park.”

  Jack considered Melvin’s notion. He hoped it wouldn’t be 8-Ball. Jack hated the prick but he had another use for him. Making an example of the asshole would ruin his plans for further down the line. He needed Melvin to get 8-Ball under control.

  “Well, that’s one thing I need from you. Keep that punk quiet. And far away from me. If he wants to keep those teeth in his mouth then he better avoid me at all costs.”

  Melvin slumped onto the bunk next to Jack. He patted Jack’s knee and then realized what he had just done.

  “I said I needed your brains, Melvin. Not a blowjob. Back the fuck off.” Melvin quickly got up and shifted to the lower bunk across the room. His forehead wrinkled up with embarrassment.

  “So what then? If Muncie ain’t opening the doors then how we gonna get outta here?”

  Jack stared at Melvin. He smiled at his old friend as he stood up. “I have something that Muncie wants. Something he needs more than anything else in the world right now.”

  Melvin scrunched up his face. His confusion spread to Swede who also appeared not to understand where Jack’s train of thought was heading.

  Jack answered the unasked question. “Me.”

  Melvin shot up and shuffled to Jack. “Are you outta your damn mind? That’s a suicide mission. You can’t do that, Jack.”

  “Who’s gonna stop me? You?” Jack shot a look at Swede to warn the big man. “Besides, there’s no other way. And the men will follow me into battle by charging first.”

  Melvin shook his head and scratched his afro. “I don’t like this, Jack. You’re the most important person we got in here. You can’t sacrifice yourself to that crazy ass muthafucka.”

  “Sacrifice? Who said I was going to die? I know what I’m doing. It won’t be easy. But he’ll bite.” Jack looked up into Swede’s face. “Still gonna bet on black?”

  Swede’s mouth dropped open. “You’re both white though.” Swede tried to point out he always bet on black when it was a fight between a black and a white. But Jack and Muncie were both white.

  Jack shrugged. “Then I guess it can go either way this time.” He patted Swede’s rock hard abs and pushed his way past the large man.

  Swede watched Jack walk into the general area. He glanced back at Melvin who tsked under his breath. Melvin smiled at Swede.

  “You white folks don’t make sense.”

  Melvin walked past Swede, leaving the mountainous man wondering what he should do now.

  Chapter 4

  The Warden stared into Muncie’s eyes. He could see the strain of the predicament weighing heavily on his top commander. But he knew, if anyone could handle pressure of biblical proportions, it would be Muncie.

  Gorgon had listened to Muncie complain about some of his men acting out lately. He knew it was most likely roid rage from Dr. Shipley’s proactive regimen of shots. However, it would be too early to tell if it were the steroid injections or the realization of their sealed fates within the confines of Warsaw Prison. Or both.

  “Turk’s uprising was put to bed quickly. I bet his ass is twisted in knots that I didn’t fall for his bullshit.” Muncie grinned and licked his chapped lips.

  The Warden knew Muncie enjoyed torturing Jack Turk. He found it rather amusing how Muncie toyed with the prisoner. In the past, when the world mattered, the Warden didn’t always agree with Muncie’s vendetta and tactics. But now it had become a fun distraction from the responsibilities of survival.

  “It’s a delicate balance, of course.”

  Muncie’s expression soured. “How is it delicate?”

  “We need Turk. And the rest of C-Pod.”

  Muncie leaned forward. His eyebrows rose up as he seemed to question the Warden’s admission. “We don’t need anyone who causes trouble and eats up our resources.” Muncie appeared to realize his tone might have been too aggressive with his superior. He softened it. “Sir.”

  Warden Gorgon slid his chair back and faced the window. The barren landscape beyond waited for the undead to fill its nooks and crannies. He knew they would be coming. Soon.

  “I want an army of men to fortify these walls. We need all hands on deck to ensure our survival.” Gorgon emphasized “we” so Muncie would understand it was also in his best interests to keep people alive for as long as possible.

  Muncie chuckled. “I am not handing any of those fucking derelicts weapons, sir. I don’t trust them as they are now, locked away in the pods. How the fuck are we going to keep them from turning on us. The first chance they get, they’ll cut and run.” Muncie’s voice sounded agitated. It grated on Gorgon’s nerves but he brushed it off in order to remain in control.

  The Warden looked at Muncie. “They’ll be altered, in a way. And they’ll only be concerned with one task.” He laced his fingers together. “Feeding.”

  Muncie shifted in his chair. Gorgon watched Muncie try to figure out what he meant. If Muncie said one word about giving food to the prisoners then he would have to seriously reconsider his top command post.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to keep these criminals alive. Then you want me to use them as guards. But AFTER they become zombies?” Muncie grimaced at the prospect of figuring out such an impossible assignment.

  Warden Gorgon breathed a sigh of relief. His most trusted right hand man was still sharp and on the ball. It made him proud of the choice he made years ago to promote Muncie to the top job. Muncie was a smart, strict leader. And he had an edge which was useful.

  “Correct.” Gorgon rounded his desk and leaned back in front of Muncie. “The inmates won’t require weapons. They will be driven to feast on flesh instead.”

  “There’s just one problem with that plan. If the pris
oners are zombies, and we are using them to fend off the zombies on the outside...then how will the need to feed help us? I thought zombies only feed on living people.”

  The Warden smiled. Muncie followed the bread crumbs. “Dr. Shipley is working on figuring that out. He is experimenting, teaching the creatures to do what we ask of them.”

  Muncie shot up out of his chair. “He’s what?”

  Gorgon used his hand to indicate Muncie should seat himself. Muncie refused the invitation. He glared at the Warden as if he just told a nine-year old that Santa Claus doesn’t really exist.

  “Dr. Shipley is going to be invaluable in this process to discover the means to survival.”

  Muncie rubbed his face with a large palm and circled back behind his chair. He was incredulous with the news. “I can’t believe you trust that fucking quack. You know he isn’t as loyal as I am. And he has access to information and supplies which can be used against any of us.”

  “Calm down, Muncie. This isn’t up for debate. I am in charge here, unless you have forgotten.” The Warden raised his voice just below shouting. He was growing weary of Muncie. Gorgon preferred dealing with the man in small doses but he needed to speak with Muncie more often now. He would need to learn to cope with the additional face time. “You are still my top dog. I need you as much as I need Dr. Shipley. He’s working on the chemical side. You will work on the motivational side.”

  Muncie’s jaw shut. His eyes looked darker than usual. The comprehension spread across his face.

  “Yes, sir. How should I proceed?”

  Warden Gorgon brightened at the change in demeanor. He suddenly shifted back to the role of field general. “You keep an eye on Dr. Shipley and your men. Make sure everyone is rowing in the same direction.”

  “What about Turk?” Muncie licked his chapped lips again like a dog drooling over a raw steak.

  “Bring me Turk. I want to have a chat with him. Make him see things our way.”

  “You’re actually going to bring him on board? We should stomp him out.” Muncie’s breathing increased as he worked himself into a lather over his arch enemy.

  The phone buzzed on the Warden’s desk. He held up a finger to Muncie, indicating he needed a moment. The Warden picked up the receiver and listened as Sheila told him Crawford called from C-Pod. Jack Turk was challenging Muncie to a fight. Apparently, the inmates were rallying behind him and the guards were antsy. They needed Muncie to tell them how to respond.

  “Thank you, Sheila. He’ll be right down.” He cradled the phone and smiled at Muncie. “Looks like you have a reason to bring Turk to me. He is causing a stir and he is asking for you.”

  Muncie smashed his fists together. Gorgon watched as the shape of Muncie morphed from a chubby man into a hulking monster. He realized why people were so afraid of Muncie. There was so much more to him than met the eye. Don’t judge a book by its cover, he thought.

  Muncie spun and hurried to the door. As he twisted the knob to exit, Warden Gorgon told Muncie to stick Jack in the hole for a while to soften him up first. Muncie grinned and slammed the door shut.

  Gorgon laughed out loud when he imagined the beating Jack Turk was going to get. As his laugh died down, the Warden got back to thinking how he could tie this plan together to make it work.

  Chapter 5

  Muncie stormed into D-Pod. He left his gear outside, against Crawford’s appeals. The inmates in the pod were jumping up and down in place and shouting at the top of their lungs, like a schoolyard full of students before a huge fight. Muncie inventoried the crowd around the atrium before settling his sights on Turk.

  He glared at Jack before speaking. “You wanted me? Well, here I am, Jack.”

  The inmates quieted down as they hung on every word. The anticipation of something catastrophic was palpable.

  Muncie glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Crawford. Crawford grimaced before carrying out Muncie’s instructions to lock him in D-Pod. Alone.

  “We have an old score to settle, Muncie. Been a long time coming.”

  Muncie cracked his neck to the side as he listened to phony tough talk coming from Turk. His veins felt like they were filling with more than just blood. He felt powerful. Muncie chuckled to himself that the supplement shots Dr. Shipley had been giving him must have provided his system with an extra dose of Vitamin B or something.

  “You gonna keep talking out your ass, Turk? Or are you going to finally show these monkeys how fucking dumb you really are?”

  Muncie’s breath flared out of his nostrils in hostile bursts. He crackled his knuckles and made his way to Turk.

  Jack held up a hand to stop Muncie’s progress. Muncie humored Jack and halted in his tracks. A few more seconds wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, Jack might even say something extra stupid to earn himself more pain, Muncie amused himself.

  “You have my word, Muncie. It’s just you and me. Nobody else is going to get involved in this.” Jack glanced around at his fellow inmates to ensure their acceptance of his terms. Men nodded and leaned forward, chomping at the bit for blood.

  Muncie laughed. His laughter was so uncontrolled it caught him off guard. “I ain’t worried about any of you. I can beat you all. One at a time. Or all together.” Muncie’s laugh trailed into rage. His eyes narrowed on the prize. Muncie made his way to Jack.

  Jack rushed at Muncie.

  The inmates of C-Pod lost control. They suddenly burst into riotous shouts and continued their jumping in place.

  Muncie met Jack in the center of the pod. His right fist connected with Jack’s jaw. The punch staggered Turk immediately and he faltered backwards to the left. Muncie, an experienced pugilist, quickly followed Jack’s motion to follow through with a combination of punches.

  He landed a solid gut punch and then missed with a left hook as Jack tumbled to the floor.

  The crowd gasped as it appeared the fight came to an untimely conclusion. But Jack had different ideas.

  As Muncie neared the prisoner to finish the fight on the floor, Jack swung a well-timed foot into Muncie’s balls. Muncie grimaced and clutched at his groin. The momentary pause in his progress provided a window of opportunity for Jack. Jack scrambled to his knees before climbing on top of Muncie.

  Muncie was torn between surprise and anger. He couldn’t believe he was now on the bottom, staring up into Turk’s ugly face. Part of him was infuriated for walking right into Jack’s move. But it was too late now. He had to get this fight back under his control.

  “You fucking fat fuck.” Jack screamed into Muncie’s face as he slammed his forearm across the bridge of Muncie’s nose. A thunderous crack echoed across the tile floors as Muncie’s nose broke for the eighth or ninth time in his life. He knew it was broken immediately as the tell-tale signs appeared. His eyes watered up, blurring his vision. And he tasted the blood which flowed down his throat.

  Jack used his elbow to crush Muncie’s left eye. Darkness and flashing lights threatened to consume Muncie’s consciousness. He had been here before. Muncie knew fights were about the comebacks and not the initial flurries. The best fighters were the ones who could outlast their opponent, not the ones who threw the most practiced punches. He urged the big dog in his belly to rage up and shake him from the bottom of the pile.

  Muncie didn’t feel the surge of adrenaline in his system until after he clocked Jack’s temple with a straight jab. Jack faltered and toppled over. Both men writhed along the bloodstained floor as they worked to get themselves back on their feet.

  Muncie was quicker, but not by much.

  He kneed Turk in the face. The wet slapping sound of Jack’s cheek elicited a loud reaction from the inmates. He crumbled to the floor, face down. Blood gushed out of Jack’s nose and a gaping wound which opened across his cheek.

  Muncie shot a glance at the window in the door. Crawford’s face appeared scared. And he wasn’t the only one. Other guards crammed their expressions into the glass around Crawford’s. Muncie grinned and gave them a thum
bs-up.

  He turned back to Jack who was drooling blood all over the floor. His eyes rolled around in their sockets, desperate to gain focus of something but failing miserably.

  Muncie grabbed the hair on the back of Jack’s head. He lifted his enemy’s skull back before slamming it upon the hard surface with a thunderous clunk.

  The inmates were silenced. The only sound which could be heard in C-Pod was Muncie’s labored breathing. The rest of the room was quieter than nothingness. Jack Turk was unconscious. And his buddies were scared speechless. Muncie felt satisfied that the man they all looked up to just got the snot beat out of him. He hoped Turk was dead.

  Muncie struggled to stand straight up and face the prisoners. He placed his left foot on Jack’s back and stared with defiance at the other inmates. He was pleased to see all their eyes cast down to the floor, afraid to make direct eye contact with him. They feared being called to the floor next.

  Muncie leaned over and grabbed Jack’s foot. He tucked it under his right arm and made his way for the door. He watched as Crawford dutifully unlocked the door and swung it wide for him. As he dragged Turk along the floor, a long slimy trail of blood and ooze followed behind him. Every few feet, a clean side of Jack’s face would screech on the tile floor. It sounded like new sneakers on a cleanly, waxed basketball court.

  The door slammed shut behind Muncie and he heard the locks fall into place. He dropped Turk’s foot and ordered the men to throw him into the hole.

  Chapter 6

  Warden Gorgon tried to stretch his limbs and his back. The long hours spent sitting in his office were beginning to take its toll on his body. He straightened himself out and entered the Infirmary.

  The antiseptic smell of the room seemed to have aired out a bit which relieved his senses. The Warden glanced around for the nurses who appeared to be absent. He wondered if Dr. Shipley let them go off for a nap somewhere outside of his purview.