"And they are going to pay him for helping." Susan said. She thought Jenkins was a chauvinist asshole, but like Matt had told her, he was smart, resourceful, and good to have around in a fight. She didn't want to lose him, even for a couple of days, but if it was going to get them more supplies, and he was going to be relatively safe, she was for it.

"I'll be there." Jenkins said into the radio. "But there are a few conditions I want to lay out."

"I'm listening." General Parker said.

"First of all, I'm no longer in the military. So I won't be ordered around and snapping to attention or any of that bullshit. Second, I'm free to leave whenever I choose. And third, I want my birds fuel tanks topped off and the equivalent of one ton of food in trade credit and two hundred gallons of diesel fuel. None of these conditions are negotiable. Did you copy that General Parker?"

"I copy Sgt. Jenkins, and agree to all of your terms. How soon can I expect you?"

"In less than an hour." He was surprised at how quickly the General had agreed to his terms. They must be clueless in Park City.

"Report to me as soon as you arrive. Parker out."

"I don't want any of you going with me." Jenkins said. "No one else can fly the chopper and if anything should happen to me you would be stuck there. And you would only be taking up valuable cargo space in the chopper."

"You stay in contact." Matt said. "If anything happens and you find yourself stuck there we'll come and get you."

"I know you will..." Jenkins said and patted Matt on the shoulder. "But nothing is going to happen to me. They are going to repel this attack and in a couple of days I'll be back."

Jenkins made his way to the chopper without any further delay. They all watched him go in silence, blinking away the dust kicked up by his takeoff...

Chapter 38.

Monday, June 25, 2001 Rainbow Lake, UT 1:37 PM.

Zack smelled death on the air; fresh blood and the sweet hint of entrails. It caused him to salivate uncontrollably as his hunger became agony. He must feed! The energy exerted to reach Rainbow Lake so quickly followed by healing himself after being shot had tapped his already drained reserves. If he did not feed, his accelerated metabolism would quickly begin to consume his body's reserves and given long enough he might literally melt off his bones!

I must feed!

The scent of fresh blood came to him again. The wind was blowing in from the west. When Zack had first arrived at Rainbow Lake early this morning he had come upon the house on the far side of the lake. He had observed it from a discreet distance, seeing that the grounds were well patrolled. He had smelled the scent of death from that house then, and he had almost been overcome with the urge to feed right then, but finding the cabin had been his highest priority.

I must feed!

With a snarl he came down from his resting place in a tree near the lake and dove into the water. He found swimming came naturally to him. He moved through the water with the ease of an eel and his slime slick body gave him reduced surface tension, allowing him to swim five times the speed of a normal human. And he could see remarkably well underwater, almost as if he had goggles on. And he could hold his breath for several minutes, which he did now and dove deep under the surface, swimming for the west side of the lake...

The swim refreshed him, cooling the burning hunger to a manageable level. But he must feed soon. He exited the water into the forest one hundred yards south of the house. He stayed low to the ground and kept behind cover as he advanced. Up ahead the trees opened onto the clearing of the yard. His psychic sense suddenly flashed and up ahead he saw two drones step out of the trees. They were both naked and both looked as if their hearts had been removed and the chest cavity left gaping open. Their movements were slow and stiff and Zack could sense they had been dead for some time.

'Back!'

His telepathic command sent them stumbling back into the forest. He looked around, probing out with his psychic radar and sensing over a dozen more drones within a fifty-foot radius. Why were they just standing out here in the forest? He continued on, the edge of the trees just twenty feet ahead. At the tree line he went low to the ground, peering in upon the yard where a bonfire burned in the center. He spotted two sentries on the third floor of the house and another walking around front. All three sentries wore white hooded robes and carried AK-47 assault rifles. He dared not try and prowl across the yard in the day. And his hunger couldn't wait until it was dark.

Just then he felt the psychic probe of the Master reach him, read him. Anger filled him. He was not here to do the Masters bidding! Red rage filled his mind and the Masters touch was lost. Matt seethed with anger now. Combined with his hunger he felt himself on the cusp of a berserker rage.

FEED! I MUST FEED NOW!.

It took what little willpower he had left to keep from charging across the yard and attacking the nearest sentry.

Movement from the house caught his eye. A lone man, wearing a white hooded robe made his way across the lawn toward the lake. Zack saw that the boathouse was his destination. The small structure was no bigger than a normal garage but built right onto the water. Without a backward glance Zack made his way back to the lake. He entered the water less than thirty yards down shore, slipping in as silent as a snake. A few powerful strokes and he was under the wooden dock and inside the boathouse. The water was less than six feet deep here and Zack was able to stand. His head silently broke the surface and his senses probed the room. A small ski boat was in the water next to the dock. The man had climbed in the boat and was working with tools. He whistled softly as he worked; an old tune that nibbled on the back of Zack's brain.

Zack moved through the water as silent as a fish, down the length of the dock and to the back of the boat. The man's scent filled the air, a tantalizing aroma that caused his hunger to boil over, unstoppable in its need. He moved quickly along the side of the boat, seeing the man hunched forward, his back exposed. With the speed and power of a gator he lunged, wrapped the man in a bear hug and yanked him out of the boat into the water. He pulled the man underneath, squeezing until he felt his ribs pop like twigs. The man took an involuntary gasp of pain, filling his lungs with water, causing him to convulse in agony. Zack released the bear hug and grabbed the man's head in both hands. He pulled the face out of the water, opening his mouth wide and bending close. The bone tipped proboscis lanced out from its pocket beneath his tongue, spearing through the drowning mans eyeball and into his brain. The sweet, sweet ecstasy of feeding filled Zack, melting away his hunger, replacing it with strength and energy with each slurp. The man's convulsions faded to minor twitching and Zack sent his siphon deeper into the skull, probing for the last drops of nectar. Finally Zack pulled away, the bloody proboscis retracting into his throat. Zack let the body slide into the water.

As his hunger subsided the madness that had taken him faded and the reality of what he had just done struck him... He had just murdered an innocent man and eaten his brains. When he had fed before he had been under the complete mental domination of the Master, unable to resist. But this time he acted of his own free will. He had been in the grip of madness brought on by hunger, but he himself had made the decision to feed. There was no denying in now; he truly was a monster. Any shred of humanity he may have had left was destroyed once he made the conscious decision to feed. A profound sorrow gripped him, unlike anything he had felt so far. But it quickly faded as he felt the presence of the Master fill his mind.

'Goood. Feeding makes you strong.' Zack did fill an unbridled strength coursing through him, making him more aware of his new body and abilities. This vitality also sharpened his mind, reminding him that the thing that spoke in his mind was the monstrous fiend that brought this hell upon him.

"You are NOT my Master!" Zack whispered sharply, pushing the Master from his mind. But the beast would not go unchallenged and Zack felt his mental claws dig in.

'HOW... DARE... YOU... RESIST ME!' The voice was like a gonging bell in his head, the pain assaulting Zack from all sides, but he was growing more comfortable with his newfound abilities and he deflected the pain with a mind shield and sent it echoing back to its source. He heard the Master gasp with surprise and pain, and his icy mental tentacles slipped away, clearing Zack's mind.

"You stay out of my mind." Zack spoke aloud but sent it telepathically as well. "I am not your slave. My name is Zack Thomas."

'I created you supplicant, so shall I destroy you.'

Zack looked about the small boathouse realizing he had forgotten where he was. He looked down at the body floating facedown in the water next to him. He had to get away from here before the body was discovered. He took a deep breath and slipped underneath the water, kicking forcefully to propel himself out into the lake.

Where would he go? He knew the Master would be coming for him soon, most likely with a squad of superzombie enforcers. Zack would need to arm himself and if possible, set an ambush. He surfaced some distance away from the boathouse, looking around the lake. The distant sound of a helicopter came to his ears, growing louder until he saw a small helicopter appear over the trees in the southwest corner of the lake. It was the same helicopter that Matt had been aboard at the cabin. Zack narrowed his eyes, zooming in on the cockpit of the chopper. The pilot was the only occupant. It was Jenkins. Matt and the others were most likely over there at one of the larger estates. Zack watched as the chopper turned in the direction of Park City and flew away at top speed.

Did he dare try and contact Matt again? They had fired at him once, hitting him right in the chest. But they hadn't known it was he. Would it have mattered though? His appearance was monstrous, and he was a monster! He'd already killed and fed on two innocent people. But would Matt turn his back on his best friend? Especially when he was in such desperate need of help? Zack knew by going there he might lead the Krylok right to his friends but the instinct for self-preservation was strong within him, amplified by the Krylok Embryo, and he knew that contacting Matt was his best chance of acquiring weapons to fight the Master, so that was where he would go. Filling his lungs with air he dove beneath the surface again, swimming for the southwest corner of the lake...

Chapter 39.

Monday, June 25, 2001 Park City, UT 1:41 PM.

Jenkins was less than two minutes from Park City when the report came over the radio that Kimball Junction was under attack. The Sgt. on location was on the radio, talking to Capt. Sheen.

"We're being shelled with mortars!" The Sgt.'s voice betrayed his fear.

"Do you have a visual on the shooter?" Capt. Sheen asked.

"We will real soon." Another voice could be heard in a murmur.. "I've just received a new report...a horde of zombies at least five hundred strong has just been spotted by one of the Apache's. They are about five miles down the canyon and led by two M1A1 Abrams tanks and three troop transport trucks." Packed with zombies no doubt. Jenkins knew those tanks and transport's had belonged to the Ft. Douglas Militia. The Kimball Junction report continued.

"The pilot of the Apache reports a small surface to air missile, probably a LAWS rocket, was fired at him. His counter measures managed to evade the missile and he retreated to a safe distance until another Apache can arrive to assist." There was another pause of several seconds. "Our spotter has a visual on the shooter. It fits the description of an Alpha. Most likely a scout sent ahead to soften us up with mortars and assess our defenses until the main force arrives."

"Sit tight Sgt. Reeves. I am sending another fifty men out to you as we speak."

"Copy that Capt. Sheen. Reeves out."

Jenkins knew it had only been a matter of time before Kimball Junction was attacked. He had flown over it twice this morning and he knew what was there: Four M1A1 Abrams, four Humvees and a platoon of twenty four troops, soon to be seventy four troops with the reinforcements on the way. The transport trucks packed with deadfucks wouldn't be any problem for the defenders but the Alphas and the tanks they commanded were another story altogether. The Apache's could go in and take them out but the Alphas were expecting this and had SAMS to keep the aircraft away. It would be up to the tanks and troops at the Junction to hold up their end.

The Park City Militia had chosen the city government office building as their headquarters and the large open soccer field just a couple blocks away as their motor pool and landing pad. Jenkins set the chopper down next to a Huey transport ship in stand-by mode. The pilot and co-pilot stood in front of the cockpit smoking cigarettes and looking anxious to get into battle. As Jenkins exited the chopper he saw there was a chubby Pvt. waiting for him. The Pvt. led him to a red civilian jeep and drove him the two blocks to Command HQ. The Pvt. led Jenkins through the lobby, which was abuzz with scrambling aides going about their numerous tasks, into an elevator and up to the second floor. The entire floor was one large Situation Room, filled with military personnel twice as frantic as the ones he'd seen below.

At the far end of the room, near a large table stood Capt. Sheen and General Parker. Sheen he knew but General Parker he had never met. The General was a tall man, nearly 6'6", with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. His head was shaved to the scalp, his blue eyes large and his jaw square. As Jenkins approached he could feel the General sizing him up.

"I'm glad you could join us Sergeant." The General did not smile and he did not shake hands. Jenkins cut through the pleasantries.

"Those Abrams and troop transports coming up the canyon were taken from Ft. Douglas."

"We'd assumed as much." Capt. Sheen said. Jenkins hadn't liked this bastard at the hospital yesterday and he liked him even less right now. "I just re-read the initial Alpha contact report from Ft. Douglas. Several Alphas attempted to commandeer the heavy support vehicles on the northwestern perimeter and--"

"I was there." Jenkins cut him off.

"Easy there Sgt. We're all on the same side." General Parker said in a monotone.

Jenkins took a deep breath and took his gaze from Capt. Sheen. "Of course we are General. Have you heard anything from Ft. Douglas survivors?"

"You and your companions were the only survivors that have come to Park City."

"We had just left through the back gate." Jenkins said, recalling the flight from Ft. Douglas.

""Reports from the front were coming over the radio. Several of the reports indicate some kind of aircraft aiding the zombies. We tried to confirm this with the Air Force but nothing had showed up on their radar.

"If the deadfucks commandeered an Apache they may have been flying below radar." Jenkins said.

"Hill AFB sent in two F-16's armed with napalm missiles. They reported both were destroyed. No Apache helicopter is going to take out two F-16 fighters. Besides, none of the eyewitness reports say anything about a helicopter. Just a small black craft, extremely fast and highly maneuverable."

"Sometimes under the pressure of a firefight soldiers see things." Jenkins said. "I know I've hallucinated while in battle... However there are other possibilities."

"Such as?" Sheen asked with an edge of annoyance to his voice.

"Come on General? You can't tell me that you and your people haven't even considered the other possibilities." Jenkins ignored Sheen and locked eyes with the General.

"Are you suggesting that the eyewitness reports are accurate?" The General cocked an eyebrow as he asked the question otherwise his face remained a blank mask.

"You're damn right I am." Jenkins said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Do you mind if I smoke?" he didn't wait for an answer before he stuck one in his mouth and sparked the lighter.

"General, how much longer must we suffer this bastard?" Sheen could take no more. He had tried to get along but Jenkins arrogance was more than he could stand.

"You asked me up here, remember?" Jenkins exhaled a cloud of smoke in Sheens direction.

"YOU SON OF A-"Sheen lunged for him.

"CAPTAIN SHEEN!" The Generals monotone voice suddenly boomed with anger and impatience. It had an immediate effect on Capt. Sheen, stopping him in his tracks. It also had the same effect on the entire room. Everyone had stopped what he or she was doing for a few seconds, focusing his or her attention on the General.

"You will control yourself Captain." His voice had resumed is monotone and the people in the room continued along their frantic pace. He turned his attention to Jenkins. "Mr. Jenkins, if you would please follow me we can resume this conversation in my office. Captain Sheen, see to things here." Jenkins nodded at him and the General led him an office door at the back of the war room.

The Generals office was sparse. A wooden desk and chair, computer, telephone and a small table and four steel chairs the only furnishings. On the walls hung a large map of the city with colored pins in several locations. A window behind the desk looked out onto the forested mountain rising above. The General took his seat behind the desk and Jenkins took one of the chairs. The General opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an ashtray.

"Thank you." Jenkins said.

"Please forgive Captain Sheen. He has been under considerable stress since your friend was allowed to leave the hospital contaminated."

"I don't give a shit about Captain Sheen. I care about the army of deadfucks trying to overrun your town."

"We were discussing possibilities." The General said.

"I think the reports on the aircraft are correct."

"Where would such a craft come from?" Jenkins got the feeling the General already had his own ideas but wanted to hear someone else's.

"Who knows what kind of secret shit the Air Force has been working on since WW2? Maybe the deadfucks raided a base and got an experimental new stealth fighter? We both know the Army has been doing secret research on genetically engineered super soldiers. Maybe that's what the Alphas are."

"Perhaps." The General said. "We have considered that a possibility. But there have been some recent discoveries made at the Hospital. Real breakthroughs that have the scientists speculating on a whole new theory."

"What new theory?"

"Before I tell you that I must tell you something else. One of your companions was infected and instead of turning himself over to us he chose to commit suicide."

"I know about Ron." Jenkins said bitterly.

"Well there's more. He didn't die."

"What?" Jenkins was shocked. "Ron became a superzombie?" Jenkins didn't want to believe it.

"Not exactly. It appeared he was infected with a new, unknown strain of the virus. Brain death meant he would not reanimate, but the contagion continued to spread over the remainder of his body."

"You mean that rash?" Rick and David had told everyone about the rash spreading over Ron's body.

"Yes. The rash was the contagion. Only the Beta strain of the virus has been observed spreading through the human body, and this was done through the blood stream. What is happening to your friends body was something completely new. The doctors on hand assumed it was the Alpha strain until they got him back to the hospital and a tissue sample under the microscope."

"What did they find?"

"This was a new strain of the virus altogether. It spread through his entire body inside and out, transforming him into...something different."

"What?"

"The scientists at the hospital are unsure. They tell me he is still in metamorphosis."

"Metamorphosis?" Jenkins asked incredulously.

"Yes. They tell me his appearance is no longer...human."

"Ron." Jenkins whispered to himself. "What about him? Is he conscious? Is he aware?"

"The doctors tell me no. When he shot himself in the head it did kill him, so to speak, but his flesh kept living."

"Are you sure?" Jenkins asked. He and Ron had made a pact. They would kill the other before letting them become one of the deadfucks.