APOCALYPSE AND THE BILLIONAIRE HEIR

CHAPTER 0007

“You cannot enter the infected zone, sir,” the man in charge of the blockade around the red area stated as my team and I walked into his tactical quarters. “Those things are extremely aggressive. Not even the best of my men would risk entering the red zone. We are merely waiting for orders from the President to exterminate everything in there.”

I frowned. His words were disgusting. How could he refer to humans infected by a virus the Pentagon had left in the care of a psychiatric patient—a virus they never asked for—as things? I hated him instantly, but I did not act rashly because I knew Adam’s fate depended largely on a decision I was about to influence.

“And how do you intend to exterminate everything in there?” I asked, pointing toward the red zone. “How do you plan to kill everything still breathing inside it?”

He chuckled and placed both hands on his desk, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at me. He was dressed in full military attire and armed with a handgun he had left on the desk. I could see the godlike ego written across his face. He was managing the biggest threat to the United States. In that moment, he believed he was a god. Life and death lay in his hands.  

“We don’t mind nuking the red zone,” he declared, his voice deep and murderous, “if that’s the only option on our table.”

I stepped closer and placed my hands on his desk, looking him in the eye with dangerous resolve. I would snatch the gun from his desk and blow his head off before he allowed nukes to be dropped on the so-called red zone.

“You won’t nuke New York City,” I said quietly. “Would you?”

“If that’s the only choice we have left, we will nuke anywhere, anytime,” he replied flatly, possibly intending to intimidate me. But I was no novice in dealing with reckless government agents who had no conscience.

I had come prepared. James was carrying a box full of cash. I was ready to buy time—to buy access to the red zone. I signaled for James to step forward.

He approached the desk with the box and placed it down at my command. I gestured toward the commander and slowly pushed the box in his direction, narrowing one eye as I did so.

“This is five hundred thousand dollars,” I stated. “Cash.”

I saw greed flicker across his face. He slowly pried the box open and peered at its contents. He would not earn that much in a year. He might make that much by authorizing the destruction of half of New York City. But he could also make it simply by allowing me entry into the red zone to retrieve my grandson—my heir.

He extended his hand. “I will assign you some of my best men as escorts. But you must make it quick.”

I shook his hand. “We will make it quick.”

He nodded. And just like that, the deal was done.

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I stepped into the red zone with James, Maria, and a hundred armed men.

We were ferried in armored personnel carriers and jeeps, with two aircraft hovering above our heads.

I split the group into two, giving strict orders not to open fire on the zombies. The mission was about restraint and identification.

The second group, led by James, headed for Adam’s workplace, while Maria, the rest of the men, and I headed for Adam’s apartment.

The streets were filled with zombies staggering around and growling. Among them was an infected doctor with a name tag still clipped to his chest. I suspected he might have been the scientist who stole the virus from the Pentagon and released it onto the streets of New York.

He growled at the moving convoy, but we barely gave him a second glance. The drivers were careful. They did not run over any of the zombies—not because they couldn’t, but because Adam could be one of them.

If they knocked him down, then the mission would be as good as failed.

We arrived at the address. The building looked eerily calm, dark and without light.

We disembarked, armed with shields, flashlights, and firearms to be used only as a last resort, along with tasers meant for restraining violent zombies.

Twenty men and I surged into the building while Maria and the rest remained behind in the armored personnel carriers.

We ignored the elevator and chose to climb the stairs. It was exhausting, but we pushed on until we encountered a zombie.

“Is that your grandson?” one of the soldiers asked.

“No,” I replied. “My grandson is not plus-sized.”

The zombie stared at us with bloodshot eyes as though studying us. Before he could step closer or growl to alert others, one of the soldiers tased him and shoved him aside.

We encountered more along the way and repeated the same process until we reached Adam’s apartment.

The door was wide open. Ten men remained outside while I walked in with the other ten—five ahead of me and five behind.

There was a dead zombie on the floor, its eyes gouged out. The stench from the corpse was awful, but not awful enough to stop us.

I stepped further into the apartment and found the living room empty. A bloodied baton lay on the floor. Another zombie corpse rested nearby, its cheekbone crushed. Black underwear and clothes were scattered across the floor.

James was not there.

Pain surged through my chest. I nearly broke down, but then my eyes caught the bedside stand.

Something was tied to it. A dog leash.

I flashed my torchlight at it. It looked like a BDSM leash used by deviants. Adam was into such things?

I dropped to my knees and peered under the bed. Beneath it lay a zombie restrained by the leash.

I shone my torch on the ashen body streaked with black veins. The stench nearly knocked me over, and then the zombie’s bloodshot eyes snapped open.

It looked directly into the light and growled.

It was my grandson, Adam.