Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Two

Jayson

Three days in quarantine and isolation had Jayson pacing like a jaguar in a cage. The cells were made of polycarbonate glass with enough lamination to stop a hailstorm of bullets. If anyone turned in one of these cells, the Soapies wouldn't be going anywhere.

Someone brought him food three times a day, but without his PTSD meds, he was anxious, irritable, and unable to sleep. With no showers, recreational time, or even a way to speak to anyone, it was difficult to function. He exercised by jogging in place, doing pushups and situps, but even that got old.

Diego and Monica were in adjacent cells on either side of him, both bored out of their minds. Diego did similar things to keep himself busy, but even he had taken to pacing back and forth in his cell, occasionally banging on the glass, only for his shouts to go unheard. Monica had mostly slept, cried, and slept some more. More times than not, she sat against her bed with her legs curled into her chest.

Jayson wasn't ready to cry, but it was time to get out. Several survivors in the other cells were all in similar states of mind, either pleading through the soundproof glass or catatonic in their beds. Every person wore a simple white jumpsuit—a thermal shirt over capris with nothing else. It was as if they'd all been sentenced to serve a prison sentence without understanding the charges or how long they'd be incarcerated.

Keeping track of the days was simple enough based on the food deliveries. Despite the lights constantly on a low setting, the meals gave him a decent indication of time. Eggs and grain in the morning with fruit, greens and meat in the afternoon and evenings. Jayson wondered how the facility had access to all of this with clean water, but he wouldn't find out until he got out.

If he got out.

Right now, the odds didn't look so good.

Shortly after lunch on the second day, someone in a cell across from him caught his attention, a seizure of sorts, and he was instantly reminded of Loki. Scrambling to his feet, he ran to the front of his tiny cell, where he caught Monica and Diego doing the same from his peripheral vision.

The man ahead jerked and thrashed on the ground until he went still. Jayson couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a puddle of vomit and other questionable substances pooled around the poor bastard. He didn't need to wait to know the man would reanimate with white film clouding his eyes—Jayson had witnessed it all first hand the day of the outbreak. Still, he felt compelled to watch, curious to see how this facility would respond.

The man slowly stood up and wobbled for a moment before turning to the cell closest to him where Sergeant Ackerman was contained. Even from here, a deep scowl was visible on his face as he kept his arms folded against his chest, watching the Soapie the way he would a sixty-nine car pileup on the freeway. That is, he watched calmly until the Soapie lunged for him, slamming into the thick glass. Sergeant Ackerman jumped back, dropping his arms to steady himself.

Jayson shared a glance between his friends and turned his attention back to the enraged Soapie continuing its barrage. Something above ejected from the ceiling, reflecting against the sudden bright light in the cell.

"What the fuck is that?" Jayson murmured, craning his neck for a better look at the state of the art weapon attached to the swiveling bracket. It was like a large laser-gun Jayson had only seen in movies and video games, slowly focusing on the unsuspecting undead man below.

The gun halted its movement and a flame burst from it in continuous fire until the Soapie was completely doused in it. Despite the soundproofed cells, Jayson could see the Soapie shrieking, flailing in every direction as the gun continued its assault, incinerating everything inside.