The President-elect looked back and forth between the assembled men and women for assistance, but they all stared blankly ahead. “Yes… Yes, sir,” he finally managed to stammer.

  “Good,” President Holmes nodded. “Your idea of wiping out the few thousand zombies would never work. Do you know why? It won’t work because we’ve only told the public a partial truth about the zombies in Washington. There are actually millions of the fuckers running around behind The Wall.”

  “What?” Senator Wilson jerked upright in his seat.

  “Yeah, that’s right: Millions. You think our international standing is in the shitter now, wait until that little tidbit of information gets out. When we made our initial estimates, there was no way of determining who’d been killed in the blast and who had survived somehow only to be attacked by zombies. Plus, there were the people who wouldn’t relocate when we built The Wall and they became trapped inside the perimeter. We did everything we could, except forcibly remove citizens during those crazy weeks of the initial construction.

  “We stopped trying to keep track of them after the first layer of The Wall was completed,” the president continued. “All of those factors added up to form the problem that we’re faced with today: We have no clue how many zombies there are in the old DelMarVa region. We have satellite photos that show zombies as far as the camera could angle out in both DC and Baltimore. The suburbs aren’t much better. The entire place is infested with the goddamn things and for you to send soldiers and Marines over that wall is akin to murder.”

  The senator held up his hands, “How is that possible? Every briefing that I’ve received states that A. Coll is transmitted directly from an infected person to a living human through bodily fluids, primarily saliva and blood. How did so many people end up infected… Is it airborne?”

  “That’s the thing, Ryan. It’s all speculation on our end, but we think that the people who we’d thought were killed in the blast were somehow infected before they died, or maybe there’s a window of time that a recently deceased person can be turned, we just don’t know the answer.” The president tapped the table with a pen in frustration. “We’ve tried for my entire administration to figure this out and we keep coming up with blanks. Your question about it being airborne was my biggest concern during the initial outbreak, but your friend Doctor Collins assured me after months of testing that it wasn’t and that’s proven true for the version that spread in Indianapolis.

  “Minus the gaping hole about how the people in the immediate nuclear blast area were turned, our hypothesis is that the creatures rapidly spread their disease across the region while we fought against the waves of zombies that they decided to sacrifice. The zombies that the military faced were, for the most part, highly radioactive and we believe that they were the ones near ground zero. For whatever reason, the zombies sent those against us while the others remained hidden during the fighting. We didn’t see very many zombies while we constructed The Wall either, which meant they held back for some reason.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. What do you mean?” the senator asked. “Do you think that they somehow distracted us during the war with radioactive zombies and then purposefully kept others who weren’t as physically impaired hidden? That’s a far stretch; they’re zombies. They don’t think or plan, they just shamble around trying to kill people and look for their next meal.”

  “Oh really? So you’re an expert on zombies? Look, take all that shit about ‘all they want to do is eat your brains’ and throw it out the window. That’s all science fiction crap. Now we’re dealing with science fact. The original zombies from the Pentagon were able to think and they planned attacks against our forces. What’s even scarier is that they were able to learn from their mistakes.”

  The senator paled noticeably. “I didn’t know that they could think,” he said. “Jeremy never said anything about that.”

  “There’s a lot that you don’t know, Ryan. And even though he threw his hat in the political ring, there’s still a lot of information that Collins couldn’t tell you or else he’d risk going to jail for life. The campaign trail promises don’t mean shit once you start getting the real information, Ryan. We killed all those smart sons-of-bitches, but by the time we got them all, the damage had already been done and millions of zombies were running around the whole damned region.

  “I agree with you that we need to save our national treasures for future generations,” President Holmes continued. “But the ones that aren’t encased in some type of protective covering are radioactive and would require extensive shielding prior to ever being viewed by the public again. Our scientists at DARPA are already working on a way to do that.

  “Another thing that you don’t know about the zombies behind The Wall is the kidnappings,” the president stated. “We’re probably in the thousands right now but I’ll let Kelly brief you about that. Kelly, I’ll turn it over to you so you can fill the senator in about the details of the case.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Kelly Flannigan replied. “Good morning, Mr. President-elect. Gentlemen, this is your weekly internal threat briefing— Sir, the internal threat briefing covers threats to the nation from within our own borders.” The senator nodded his understanding and followed everyone else as they searched for the FBI’s section in their briefing binders.

  Kelly paused while the assembled group flipped noisily through the pages until they came to the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s briefing. Once she was satisfied that they all had her notes in front of them she continued, “As you can see, this week the Bureau interdicted thirty-two credible terrorist attacks and stopped one that was within days of execution in Milford, Connecticut… Yes sir?” she asked when Senator Wilson held up his hand.

  “Good morning Kelly, I’m sure we’ll get to know each other well over the next few years, but maybe I misunderstood you. Do you mean to tell me that the FBI stopped actual terrorist attacks?”

  “Sir, when I say ‘credible attacks’ it is an attack that is planned and could feasibly be carried out within four weeks. If we stop an attack it means that the operation was planned, resourced—both financially and logistically—and is within a week of execution. Obviously, if we don’t stop the attack, then we get another Pentagon or 9/11-type event.”

  “I see stories in the news all the time about terrorist attacks that are foiled. Are you telling me that the things that are reported are just the tip of the iceberg compared to what you see on a daily basis?”

  “The incidents reported to the news typically involve a third party that is not a Bureau asset, so we have no way of stopping them from going to the media. In those instances we attempt to make a statement first in order to get our side of the story out publicly before the third party says or does something that we have to react against. To answer your question, yes the Bureau—and the CIA, as you’ll see in a few minutes—interdict and stop hundreds of attacks a year that most Americans will never know anything about. You’ll have to pardon me sir, but when the media dissects an event that we didn’t catch and says that all the signs were there, they are morons.”

  “The sheer numbers of outsider threats to this country is mind-boggling when you first come into the job, Ryan,” the president emphasized the director’s point. “Our folks do an amazing amount of good behind the scenes that no one will ever know about.”

  He gestured for her to go on. “Of course, Mr. President,” Kelly replied. “As you alluded to earlier, the kidnappings have begun to be noticed by the media. Several prominent celebrities and local government officials have gone missing from all over the country. In addition to our anti-terrorism efforts, we’ve also committed tremendous resources to solving this spate of kidnappings.”

  She paused and focused on the President-elect. “These kidnappings have been occurring for a little more than two years that we know of, but they’ve reached unprecedented numbers in the last few months. We’re sure that organized crime families are behind it, but beyond that, we don’t have much else to go on yet. Whoever is doing it is very good at covering their trail and at keeping things quiet. For the most part, there are no ransom notes and no bodies. The kidnapped individual just disappears. However, we have recent photographic evidence that strongly supports the hypothesis that the kidnappers are somehow slipping past our guards on The Wall and inserting the people inside, where they are quickly set upon by zombies and become lost to the outside world.”

  “Wait, you’re telling me that the mob is using The Wall to dispose of bodies?”

  “Sort of. Whoever is behind this is smart, sir. They aren’t killing their victims. That would leave too much forensic evidence that we could potentially find. Our hypothesis is that they’re putting them inside The Wall. The creatures attack the victims quickly, and then they become zombies and vanish. It’s clean. There’s no way to trace them after they’re inside.

  “The photographic evidence that I mentioned suggests that some of the zombies inside are likely victims. It’s hard to determine with a degree of certainty because of the radical physical changes that their bodies undergo when they convert, let alone the physical trauma of being attacked when they were inserted, but we believe that we have satellite imagery which shows several kidnapping victims who are now walking around as zombies.”

  “Holy shit. Why hasn’t this gone public?”

  “What do you want us to say, Senator?” the president asked. “Be on the lookout for friends and family members who may be zombies? By disposing of their victims inside The Wall, they are effectively deleting the evidence that we would be able to use to find them. Right, Kelly?”

  “Yes, sir. The evidence that they inadvertently leave behind is what allows us to catch most kidnappers. Evidence left at the crime scene, at the holding location, where they dumped the body and things like trying to sell an item that belonged to the victim online, all of these things help us find the kidnappers in most situations. Whoever is conducting these kidnappings is reducing their chance of discovery by roughly three-quarters and they leave next to nothing at the kidnapping site. We don’t even know how the victims are snatched, but the lack of a struggle in the majority of the cases would indicate some type of drug. They also appear to know our surveillance patterns at The Wall. Even when we change them, the perpetrators are able to elude us and continue dumping new victims.”

  “You say this has been going on for years. How many people are we talking about?” the senator asked.

  She thumbed through a few documents before answering. “If we exclude missing persons cases that are outside of the four or five main concentration areas, then there are approximately eleven hundred that we believe can be attributed to this case.”

  “That’s eleven hundred more zombies inside The Wall,” the president emphasized. “Most of our citizens have been led to believe that there are ten or fifteen thousand total and that the main threat is the radiation. That’s just not the whole truth. Our best estimates are that there are approximately one-point-five to two million zombies trapped behind The Wall spread out over forty-five hundred square miles. We couldn’t clean out all of the zombies if we tried. Are you starting to see the problem now?”

  The senator nodded his head slowly. “I had no idea. All of my people said that we’d be able to insert a division or two and clean out the entire region block by block. It would take twenty divisions to clean up the area.”

  “Alright. Moving on then,” the president said and slapped his knee. “Chip, what do you have for us?”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency replied. “Our activities have continued unabated outside of the United States. I don’t have any major ops to inform you of this morning, sir. However, we did assist the FBI with the leads on that last terrorist plot Kelly mentioned. We discovered evidence of El Salvadorian and Iranian collaboration—which is strange I might point out—and began to pull the strings. One thing led to another and we discovered that they had a legitimate plan to destroy the New England power grid.”

  “My God, that would have caused mass chaos in the region,” the president responded. “Why were the El Salvadorians working with the Iranians though?”

  “We believe that it’s about control of the drug trade through their MS-13 connections in the region. The Iranians are just opportunistic assholes who will link up with anyone willing to assist them in attacking the US.”

  “Why is none of this publicized?” the senator asked.

  “Really, Ryan?” President Holmes asked incredulously. “Do you have any idea how panicked the American public would be if they knew how often we walk a razor’s edge between outright disaster and what we consider normal? The last terrorist attack that succeeded was the attack on the Pentagon and we lost our capital and millions of people died. Our populations’ psyche can’t take another major attack and it would probably erode further over time if the information that you’ve received this morning were to go public.”

  “I… I never thought of it like that,” the senator admitted.

  “Damn right you didn’t,” the president replied. His features softened slightly and he continued, “It’s not your fault. These facts are top secret. We release varying levels of information to Congressional leadership, members of the Armed Services Committees and then to the remainder of Congress. You’re not a member of those first two groups, so you simply didn’t know and you weren’t cleared to get the briefing until after you were elected. It’s one of the many ridiculous things about our system of government. Believe me, I was so close to grabbing your shoulders and trying to shake some sense into you at that last debate, but I chose to walk away instead.

  “It destroyed my chances of reelection, but I couldn’t counter your points about reclaiming our heritage without violating the sacred trust placed in this office.” The president held up his finger, “Remember that, three years from now when you’re fighting for your reelection against an opponent who has a lot of great ideas but just doesn’t know all of the facts.”

  “You’re right, Mr. President,” the congressman acknowledged. “I didn’t know and I’m sorry for some of the things that I said to you.”

  “Sarah, take a note,” the president said to his secretary. “A politician admitted that he was wrong. This has to be a first.”

  *****

  23 December, 1307 hrs local

  Jake Jones’ Residence

  Near Kennedyville, Maryland

  The phone woke Jonesy up from his sex-induced slumber. He picked it up groggily and stared at the display. It was that stupid fucker, Marc, Tony Marchione’s fat-ass driver. He contemplated not answering it but decided against it and tapped the green phone symbol instead. “Yeah,” he replied in a husky voice that gave away the fact that he’d been sleeping.

  “Yo, it’s me.”

  “I know who it is, man,” Jonesy replied. “Do we have work to do tonight?”

  “Not tonight, pal. The boss wants you to get some rest before Christmas, if you catch my meaning. He wants you to know that he’s got some information that the weather might get bad soon, what with the winter coming in and the inauguration in a couple of weeks. You might also wanna stay inside and tidy up the place until I contact you again. Capisce?”

  He thought for a moment about the implications of the message and finally replied, “Yeah, I get it. How long is the weather gonna be bad?”

  “A couple of months. Some of the other guys don’t have as much access to info like we do, so maybe you should let them know that you need to take some time off. We don’t want anyone to get in trouble.”

  A couple of months? Man, that’s gonna set my timeline back, Jonesy thought. “Alright,” he replied into the phone. “I’ll bundle up and stay indoors, make sure the place gets cleaned up for any visitors.”

  “Exactly,” Marc’s voice drifted from the small speaker on his phone. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The phone line clicked off and Jonesy sat up. He’d been meticulous and careful. His cover story as a freelance journalist was enough to fool the people in town when he made his weekly grocery trips, but he didn’t think it would hold up to intense scrutiny if the feds really started digging. Or worse, it might somehow implicate him since on paper he worked for a magazine owned by one of the Families.

  After each trip to The Wall, he cleaned with bleach to ensure that there was no residue, but if they did a full forensic analysis on his Gator, they’d likely find strands of hair or skin that belonged to the victims, but they’d need a reason to search through his things that thoroughly.

  Goddamn it! She’s mine! He wanted to keep her forever. His life had been perfect for the last seven months and he’d been looking forward to giving her a Christmas present. It wasn’t fair. He should be allowed to keep something nice for himself and dammit, she was nice.

  Jonesy sighed heavily and went to the cabinet in the kitchen to pull out his Taser. It was time to put her over The Wall. If the feds searched his home, they’d find her and everything that he’d worked so hard to accomplish. The smart thing to do was to get rid of any evidence of his crimes. She was the only thing that could ever tie him to the thousands of additions to the zombies within The Wall.

  He walked over to the guest room and unlocked the hasp that he’d installed on the outside of the door. As the door creaked open, she looked up at him expectantly from the mattress. He always came to her when he woke up; it was the best time for him. It always felt the best. Like always, Jonesy pulled the door closed behind him and locked it with a combination lock. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s almost Christmas.”

  “I know, I’m so excited to see what you got me!” she replied enthusiastically.

  “I’m sorry, babe. There won’t be any Christmas presents this year,” he answered and held up the Taser.

  Her eyes focused on the device and then back on him. She knew what it meant. In the quiet moments after they were together he’d told her how he did his job. “You don’t need to do this,” she pleaded. “You know I would never tell anyone about us... I love you, Jonesy!”