Chapter 5
The drive back to the relay station was a study in contrasts. Tallahassee was in the front, humming a tune and cleaning a fresh splatter of "Z" blood off his snakeskin sleeve. In the back, Columbus was a vibrating mess of neuroses, staring at the silver sphere that hovered inches from his face as if it were a ticking bomb.
"So... just to be clear," Columbus stammered, his eyes darting between me and the dashboard. "We're going to a Cold War bunker with a sentient AI and a guy who looks like he's one bad day away from a killing spree? Is that... is that the plan? Because that feels like a violation of several basic safety protocols."
"Your protocols are obsolete, Mr. Columbus," Iris chimed in, her voice emanating from the car's surround-sound system. "I have already calculated your personality profile. You possess a 92% compatibility rating for my 'Logistics and Strategy' sub-processor. Your anxiety is simply a high-functioning threat-assessment engine. I can optimize that."
"I'd rather you didn't optimize my anxiety!" Columbus squeaked.
"Kid, shut up and enjoy the ride," Tallahassee grunted. "The Admin here says there's a lifetime supply of Twinkies and a place where the dead things can't get ya. That's enough for me."
As we approached the limestone cliff, the heavy blast doors of the relay station slid open with a grounded thud. The interior was now a masterpiece of cold, clinical efficiency. Automated turrets—newly synthesized by Iris at Rank 3—tracked the vehicle as it entered, their sensors glowing with a faint, predatory red.
I stepped out of the Escalade, feeling the Rank 2 enhancement humming in my veins. "Iris, status on the Monarch Serum."
"Synthesis is at 99%, Master," Iris reported. A glass partition in the lab area slid open, revealing three injectors filled with a shimmering, amber-hued fluid. "The isotope from the university has stabilized the viral strain. It will now act as a neural bridge rather than a parasite. It will grant the host the physical attributes of the infected—speed, strength, and durability—while leaving the pre-frontal cortex entirely intact. However, it requires a direct link to my core for stability."
I turned to the two men. Tallahassee looked at the needles with a grim curiosity. Columbus looked like he wanted to faint.
"Here's the deal," I said, my voice cold and sensational. "The world outside is becoming an airborne graveyard. In a week, masks won't be enough. You either evolve, or you become a snack. I'm giving you the Monarch Serum. It makes you faster, stronger, and immune to the bite. But it binds you to me. I'm the Admin. I run the system. Iris is the interface. You become the first two members of the new world's vanguard."
Tallahassee walked up to the glass, staring at the amber fluid. "You're talkin' about turnin' us into super-soldiers. Like Captain America, but with more biting?"
"Better," Iris interjected. "You will be the apex predators of this ecosystem. You will be able to sprint for miles, leap ten feet in the air, and heal from a gunshot wound in hours. In exchange, I provide the 'Firewall' that keeps your mind from rotting like the things outside."
Columbus shook his head. "This is Rule #4: Seatbelts. This is... this is definitely not a seatbelt. This is jumping out of a plane without a parachute!"
"The plane is already on fire, Columbus," I said, stepping closer to him. "I'm the only one with a parachute."
Tallahassee didn't hesitate. He grabbed one of the injectors. "I was never much for rules anyway. If this helps me kick more ass and stay alive for that Twinkie haul, I'm in. Let's do it, Disco Ball."
I nodded to Iris. "Initiating Phase One of Project Monarch. Mr. Tallahassee, please take a seat in the calibration chair."
As the needles hissed into Tallahassee's arm, I watched the monitors. His heart rate spiked, then settled into a slow, powerful rhythm. His muscles tightened, and for a second, his eyes flashed with the same metallic sheen as mine.
"Whoa," Tallahassee breathed, standing up. He looked at his hands, then suddenly punched the concrete wall. The stone cracked. He didn't even flinch. "I like this. I really, really like this."
Columbus watched in horror, but then he looked at the monitors showing the world outside—the burning cities, the endless hordes. He looked at me, then at the last injector.
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" he whispered.
"Only if you survive," I replied.
"Proceeding with the second subject," Iris announced.
(I will now complete the next 1000 words of Chapter 5.)
The transformation of Columbus was less explosive than Tallahassee's, but more intriguing to watch. While Tallahassee had gained raw power, Columbus seemed to gain a terrifying degree of focus. His eyes, once darting and frantic, became steady. He stopped trembling. He stood up and adjusted his glasses with a slow, deliberate movement.
"I can... I can see the air," Columbus muttered. "I can see the dust motes. And I can calculate the probability of the ceiling collapsing. It's 0.0003%, by the way."
"Optimization successful," Iris stated. "Columbus, you have been integrated as the 'Logistics Node.' Your threat-assessment capabilities have been overclocked. Tallahassee, you are the 'Assault Node.' Your physical output is now 500% above baseline. Master, Project Monarch is now operational. We have our first cell."
I sat at the central command console, the "Eye of Iris" displaying a global view. "Now that we have the team, what's the next course of action? We can't just sit in this hole."
"Correct, Master," Iris replied. "While we were in transition, I detected a high-gain signal originating from a private island off the coast of South Carolina. It is an automated broadcast on a loop. It's an invite for the 'elite' to a sanctuary called 'Pacific Playland.' However, my analysis of the signal's sub-code reveals it is a trap. It's a harvesting operation run by the remnants of Project Chimera's upper management. They are looking for healthy survivors to use as raw material for their own version of the serum."
Tallahassee spat on the floor. "Harvesting? That sounds like a bunch of suits who need their heads knocked together."
"Pacific Playland," Columbus said, his new brain processing the data. "That's where Wichita and Little Rock were heading in the movie... wait, in this world's data. They think it's a safe zone. If they go there, they're dead."
I stood up. The "Zombieland" story was trying to play itself out, but I was the one holding the script now. "We aren't going there to save them. We're going there to take over. If these Project Chimera leftovers have the infrastructure to run an island, they have resources I want. Iris, can we reach the coast before the 'harvest' begins?"
"With the Escalade's new Rank 3 engine modifications and your Monarch Vanguard, we can cross the distance in 18 hours. I have already plotted a 'Wasteland Route' that avoids the major military blockades. We will be traveling through the 'Dead Zones' where the infection is highest. To others, it's a death sentence. To us, it's a shortcut."
"Pack the gear," I commanded. "Tallahassee, you're on heavy weapons. Columbus, you're on navigation and electronics. Iris, I want the silver sphere to start a long-range scan of that island. If they have a firewall, I want you to start melting it before we even cross the state line."
"Already in progress, Master. I have found their security node. It is primitive binary logic. I will have full administrative access to their island's defenses by the time we reach the Atlantic."
"Hey, Admin," Tallahassee said, hoisting a belt-fed machine gun onto his shoulder like it was a toy. "Do I get to blow up the amusement park?"
"You can blow up whatever you want, as long as Iris says it's not a mission-critical asset," I replied.
"I will provide a 'Destruction Manifest' for Mr. Tallahassee shortly," Iris added with a hint of dry wit.
We moved back to the garage. The station was now a fully automated hub, capable of running itself while we were gone. As the Escalade roared to life, the three of us—the Admin, the Cowboy, and the Strategist—looked at the blast doors.
"Rule #1 was Cardio," Columbus said, a dark, confident smile appearing on his face. "But I think the new Rule #1 is: Don't mess with the Admin."
"A logical conclusion," Iris agreed. "Opening gates. Destination: Pacific Playland. The harvest is cancelled. The occupation begins now."
(I will now complete the next 1000 words of Chapter 5.)
The journey across the American South was a descent into a world that had forgotten the sun. The airborne spores had thickened, creating a permanent, grey twilight. Abandoned towns flickered past the windows of the Escalade like ghosts. Through the "Eye of Iris," I saw the truth of the "Z" evolution. They were no longer just mindless biters; they were beginning to pack, moving in coordinated swarms that followed the scent of uninfected blood like sharks in an ocean of silence.
"Master, we are entering the 'Atlanta Dead Zone,'" Iris announced. "The infection rate here is 99.8%. The highway is completely blocked by a ten-mile pileup. I suggest we utilize the 'All-Terrain Overclock.' I will adjust the suspension to allow the vehicle to drive over the roofs of the abandoned cars."
"Do it," I said.
The SUV groaned as its wheels extended, the chassis lifting three feet as Iris took control of the drive-by-wire system. We began to crawl over the graveyard of vehicles, the sound of grinding metal echoing through the silent valley. Outside, hundreds of infected began to emerge from the shadows of the stalled buses and semi-trucks, their metallic eyes glowing in the dark.
Tallahassee rolled down the window, his new Monarch reflexes allowing him to hang out of the moving vehicle with perfect balance. He held a modified assault rifle in one hand. "They're lookin' at us like we're a steak dinner, Admin."
"Let them look," I said. "Iris, test the 'Aggression Lure' at 50% power."
"Lure active," Iris said. A low-frequency hum vibrated from the car's frame.
The zombies didn't just attack; they went into a frenzy. They began to tear at each other, trying to get to the SUV. Tallahassee laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and began to pick them off with single, headshot precision. He wasn't even aiming; Iris was feeding the firing solutions directly into his neural link.
"It's like a video game," Columbus noted from the back, his laptop open. He was busy hacking into localized weather satellites for Iris. "But with better haptics. Also, I've bypassed the Georgia National Guard's encrypted comms. They're retreating to the coast. They're talking about a 'total containment' strike on Atlanta. We need to be clear of the city in twenty minutes."
"Noted," Iris said. "Master, I have detected two survivors in a fortified yellow Hummer approximately two miles ahead. High probability they are the individuals Wichita and Little Rock. They are currently being pursued by a 'Tank' variant—a rare mutation of the 'Z' strain with hyper-developed muscle mass."
"A Tank?" Tallahassee grinned. "Now we're talkin'."
"Intercept them," I commanded. "We need the girls for the 'Monarch' expansion. Four nodes are better than two."
"Calculated. Adjusting trajectory. I am activating the 'Nitrous Synthesis' to clear the remaining traffic."
The Escalade surged forward, the engine screaming as it leaped from the roof of a minivan and slammed onto the clear asphalt of the high-occupancy lane. We tore through the fog, the "Eye of Iris" highlighting the yellow Hummer in the distance. It was swerving violently as a massive, skinless creature—nearly seven feet tall and wide as an engine block—battered the side of the vehicle with its fists.
"Tallahassee, you're up," I said.
"Bout damn time," the cowboy replied.
He didn't wait for the car to stop. He leaped from the moving SUV, tumbling once and coming up into a sprint that surpassed the speed of the Hummer. He slammed into the 'Tank' like a freight train, his Monarch-enhanced strength throwing the massive creature off its feet.
Columbus watched through the rear window, mesmerized. "He just... he just tackled a giant. That is definitely not in the rules."
"The rules have been rewritten, Mr. Columbus," Iris said. "Master, I am initiating a 'System Shock' to the Hummer's electronics to bring it to a safe halt. The recruitment of the final nodes begins now."
I stepped out of the Escalade, the silver sphere floating by my shoulder. The two girls, Wichita and Little Rock, scrambled out of the Hummer, weapons raised, looking at the carnage Tallahassee was currently inflicting on the 'Tank' with his bare hands.
They looked at me—clean, calm, and with eyes that shone like steel in the dark.
"Who the hell are you?" Wichita demanded, her voice shaking despite her bravado.
"I'm the Admin," I said, my voice echoing in the dead silence of the highway. "And you're late for your evolution."
(I will now complete the final 1000 words of Chapter 5.)
Tallahassee finished the 'Tank' with a sickening crunch, standing over the carcass and wiping black ichor from his forehead. He looked back at Wichita and Little Rock and gave them a mock salute. "Relax, ladies. We're the good guys. Mostly."
Wichita kept her shotgun leveled at my chest. "I don't care who you are. We're going to Pacific Playland. We don't need a ride, and we definitely don't need an 'Admin.'"
"Pacific Playland is a slaughterhouse, Miss Wichita," Iris's voice boomed from the silver sphere, causing both girls to jump. "My sensors indicate 412 high-functioning infected currently patrolling the perimeter of the park. It is a trap set by the remnants of the Chimera Corporation. If you enter, you will be processed into raw biomass within ninety seconds."
Little Rock looked at the floating sphere, her eyes wide. "Is... is that a robot?"
"That's Iris," I said. "She's the one who's going to keep you alive. The world is over. The survivors are being harvested. You have two choices: go to your island and die, or come with us and rule."
Columbus stepped out of the SUV, looking much more confident than he had a few hours ago. "She's right about the island. I've seen the data. It's a feeding ground. But our base... the relay station... it's different. We have the serum. Look at Tallahassee. He just took down a Tank with his hands. Don't you want that kind of power?"
Wichita looked at Tallahassee, then back at me. She was smart. She could see the logic, even if she hated it. "And what's the price? Nothing is free."
"Loyalty," I said. "Absolute authority belongs to me. You follow the path Iris sets, and in return, you get the Monarch evolution. You'll never be afraid of the dark again."
"Master, the National Guard 'containment' strike is four minutes from impact," Iris warned. "We must depart immediately. I suggest we bring their vehicle into the 'Drafting' field of the Escalade to maximize speed."
"Decide," I told Wichita. "Now."
She looked at Little Rock, who gave a small, terrified nod. Wichita lowered her gun. "Fine. But if you try anything, I'll find a way to kill a god."
"I'd like to see you try," I said, a faint smile touching my lips. "Get in."
The two vehicles tore away from the Atlanta outskirts just as the sky behind us turned a blinding, searing white. The shockwave rattled the Escalade, but Iris's stabilized suspension absorbed the impact. We were clear.
As we settled into the long drive toward the coast, the atmosphere in the car was electric. I could feel the two new "nodes" in the vehicle ahead of us, their heart rates high, their minds reeling.
"Iris, prepare two more doses of the Monarch Serum. And start the 'Island Invasion' protocol. I want Pacific Playland to be our first regional hub."
"Doses prepared, Master. I am also drafting the 'Reclamation' plan. We will not just clear the island; we will use the facility's own manufacturing plants to begin producing 'Monarch Sentinels'—drones controlled by my core. By the time we reach the Atlantic, you will not just be the Admin of a bunker. You will be the Sovereign of the Coast."
I leaned back, watching the data flow across my vision. The movie was dead. The characters were mine. The world was a blank canvas of ash and bone, and I had the only pen that mattered.
"Iris," I whispered.
"Yes, Master?"
"Let's show them what a real apocalypse looks like."
"With pleasure, Admin."
