The Fifth Estate

By John C. Luke, Jr.

Two hundred years after her death, Mary Shelley is still alive. She has been granted immunity from death by the Fifth Estate: a vampire-led organization that has kept the world from being overrun by sentient zombies. She is the first of many human storytellers employed to reveal the presence of undead inhabitants on this planet. Others included: Bram Stoker and George Romero. Their works have been used to prepare society for the impending judgment day. Even government organizations such as the CDC have unknowingly joined the effort by issuing contingency plans. However, the world changed, and people are no longer afraid of what goes bump in the night. We are desensitized. In our state of ignorance vampires have become our guardians and zombies have become more menacing and thoughtful. Only faced with the possibility of extinction has humankind come to embrace the reality of a zombie apocalypse. However, it is too late because the attack has already begun.

Zombies, like other creatures on Earth, have evolved over the centuries. No longer shiftless and slow, they now rely on guile and science to attack humankind. Their most recent invention is a vaccine for H1NI that will turn its receiver into a full-fledged zombie. The books and movies had it wrong from the beginning. A zombie scratch or bite won’t turn you because zombies don’t leave anything to turn. They are the ultimate predator. Like Shelley’s Frankenstein, the first fictional zombie, only science can make one into a zombie and once humankind labeled the latest flu a global pandemic, the fight was over before it even started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781649797810

John C. Luke, Jr.

John C. Luke, Jr. is a practicing attorney who lives in New York with his wife and two sons. He has been both terrified and fascinated with zombies and vampires for as long as he can remember. He definitely believes that there are things that go bump in the night. This book was written to help those who are not prepared for the day that those ‘things’ decide to come out to take a bite.

Book preview

About the Author

John C. Luke, Jr. is a practicing attorney who lives in New York with his wife and two sons. He has been both terrified and fascinated with zombies and vampires for as long as he can remember. He definitely believes that there are things that go bump in the night. This book was written to help those who are not prepared for the day that those ‘things’ decide to come out to take a bite.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wife and two sons. They inspire me every day to reach for the stars.

Copyright Information ©

John C. Luke, Jr. 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Luke, Jr., John C.

The Fifth Estate

ISBN 9781649797803 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781649797810 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023904317

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank my publisher and all of those involved in the completion of this work.

Prologue

One

Present Day

Another day and another movie set for Mary. The zombie movies seemed to be coming fast and furious of late. Zombies were getting faster, smarter, and more vicious. It seemed obvious that someone had an agenda. She was on this set and many others because a long time ago, she was labeled a zombie expert. If that could be a title one aspired to—she definitely did not. Once upon a time, she had written a zombie book, one of the first actually, but it was not categorized that way. She considered that book a labor of love. It was a book of science, human failure, and vulnerability. A real book compared with the trash that was published daily. There were times she wished she had never written that damn book. It was her greatest achievement and a curse.

Her life was simpler before the book. Now she was flown coast to coast to consult on zombie garbage. She was also sent novels and query letters, always looking for new spins on zombie lore. It was her idea to couple zombies with human classics like Pride and Prejudice. She received a lot of pushback from upstairs on that one but after it became a New York Times bestseller, she was again an esteemed genius.

Some of her best work came in the vampire category. Twilight and True Blood were huge successes. Because of her, vampires now were out of the shadows and attended high school and proms. Gone were the days when vampires scaled walls and killed children. They were now productive members of society who kept us safe and could be the boy next door.

Mary—Mary! A voice brought her out of her musing.

Yes, she replied.

Did you think that was cunning? asked the director.

It will do, replied Mary. She was just finishing on the set of Dawn of the Dead—3D. She had forgotten how many reboots of Dawn of the Dead they were at but this one was in 3D and since that was all the rage, it had to be done.

She was so tired of Dawn of the Dead and all of Mr. Romero’s stuff, but the bigshots loved it so she had to be here to make sure it had a chance of success. Mr. Romero’s work was groundbreaking in the 60s and really got the movement started but since it had been one copycat after the next and they were so predictable. Cue the white picket fence, a zombie breaks in, bites the owner, the owner’s family foolishly keeps him/her home, and lo and behold—zombie apocalypse.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Mary, or Mary Shelley as she was once called, realized that she hated her life and the choice she made but it seemed so interesting at the time and her love of science pushed her to say yes. Thinking back, if only she had turned down the invitation to that damned camping trip but deep down, she knew they wanted her and they always got what they wanted.

Two

Switzerland (1816)

As a nineteen-year-old woman and an aspiring author like her parents, Mary Shelley jumped at the invitation to attend a weekend with the famous poet Lord Byron and his friends at Byron’s villa in Switzerland. It would be an opportunity to perhaps swap ideas and take part in one of Lord Byron’s legendary literary contests. For a young woman in the 19th century, the acceptance of a renowned male author would go a long way to legitimize her writing. Little did she know but Lord Byron’s recommendation would pale in comparison to her real benefactors.

After dinner on the first night, Lord Byron invited Mary and the other guests to retire with him to the study for the announcement of the category for that year’s contest. To the surprise of the group, the category was horror. Mary had some idea what horror was but the idea of wasting her time on a horror story seemed beneath her talents. After some conversation, she returned to her room disappointed but somewhat hopeful that at her young age she could write a better horror story than the more mature members of the group. She fell asleep at a desk looking out into the rainy night. It was the perfect night to write a horror story and she had some ideas but her best idea would come to her in a most unnatural way.

It was the most vivid dream Mary could remember. She could actually feel the raindrops as they poured down her face. She was sitting on the ground under a tree when a voice came out of the blackness.

Get up, Mary, the unattached voice stated. Startled but still thinking that she was dreaming, Mary stayed seated on the wet ground.

Mary, if you don’t move, it will kill you, the voice continued. From a distance, Mary could make out a figure in the rain moving in her direction. She still did not move. As the figure got closer, she could see that it was a man. But something was very wrong. He was naked and his jawbone was exposed. She was paralyzed with fear and now realized that she was fully awake. When the man was ten yards away, something jumped from a tree and tackled the man. The man or what appeared to be a man tore the head off the other but the body remained mobile.

That was all she could remember. She woke up later that day in her bed believing that she had experienced one of those dreams within a dream. The soaked nightgown at the foot of her bed proved that to be the wrong theory. Mary knew she could win the competition with the story of her encounter but she dared not. Sometimes, being overly creative would create more problems than good.

Somers Town, London (1818)

Mary couldn’t wait to get to work on her idea inspired by her brush with death. The headless body still moving gave her a wonderful jumping off point. She would write a story about a being put together using various body parts with the head or brain being the final piece. That thing’s body that night in Switzerland was rudderless without the head but the brain would be its salvation. But her story needed more than just this creature. It needed a human touch. She would find that inspiration in her father. He was a good man but like all men he suffered from arrogance and narcissism. He had nearly bankrupted the family with failed business ventures and was saved at the last minute from debtor’s prison by an unknown benefactor.

She published the first edition anonymously due to the subject matter and the lack of support for female writers. She would do two more rewrites before settling into the story as it is known presently as Frankenstein.

Three

England (1845)

While on a visit to a hospital for a physical regarding headaches, Mary died. It was not a natural death but more of a rebirth.

Mary arrived at the hospital in the late evening and fainted on a bed shortly after arrival. It was at this point that she was turned into a vampire. It was not very memorable. She awoke at some point in the night with a man seated on the edge of her bed. Although it was pitch black, she could make out his face clearly because he was so white and his eyes were so very red.

Hello Mary, he said.

Do I know you? Mary replied. She began to edge away from him on the bed.

I saved your life about thirty years ago. But the answer to your question is no.

I don’t understand.

It was the night that changed your life, the night that inspired a story that will save the world. Think about it, Mary. He moved closer.

Mary instantly knew that he was referring to the night in Switzerland with the headless man. This was the man that had jumped from the tree. How did he find her?

You jumped from the tree. It was you. What was that thing? She was curious now and moved closer to him.

That was Frankenstein or, as we call them, zombies. They are the scourge of the Earth and we need your help to destroy them?

Me? Why me?

Your brain, Mary. From that night, you wrote a story of such exquisite human tragedy and science. We need you to keep the idea alive. One day we will need to tell the world the truth and someone with your imagination is all that we lack.

Tell the truth about what?

That the world is more than it appears to be. But before I can tell you anymore you need to make a choice.

A choice? Of course, I will help. Now please tell me more. She was now seated upright. Her head was still pounding but she no longer cared.

How is your head; are you still in pain?

My head; how do you know? But yes, it hurts. I feel like it is getting worse.

If you say yes, you will never have pain again. But you will have to say goodbye to your old life. We will give you six years to sort out your affairs.

What are you? No pain? I don’t understand. She was beginning to move away again.

You are dying, Mary and it will be painful. I can feel it. Just say yes and I will take the pain away.

Just like the night she saw that zombie running towards her, Mary felt a surge of curiosity of wanting to know more. She wanted very much to say yes. She did not want to die. Her father believed in human immortality. Could he have been right?

What will it be, Mary? There is not much time, he asked.

What of my family? Will I see them again?

You have six years from tonight. Is that a yes?

He edged closer but so did she. Yes.

Four

Mary officially died from a brain tumor while visiting a hospital on February 1, 1851. She went in but no one ever saw her again. A similar shaped woman of the right age, height, and weight was buried in her grave at St. Peter’s Church, Bournemouth.

Mary didn’t take to her new life as a vampire easily. There was a lot of trial and error. She left many bodies drained, in and around her last known residence and left a half-eaten human heart in her desktop drawer that was found by her surviving children.

Five

Present Day

Mary! Mary! Where is your head today? Are you paying attention at all? yelled the director.

Yes. Yes. This is all very good. Just remember that we have to keep the slack look off the zombies’ faces. They are smarter now. Do you understand?

Of course. Yes. Thank you. He waved her off.

Mary was growing particularly tired of this director. He was the son of some big studio executive who was getting a big break because of daddy’s money. It made her sick. Humankind was so weak and she had enough. She would invite him over tonight or maybe try something else.

After shooting was over, she walked over to his trailer and knocked on the door. He swung the door open, nearly taking her head off. Well, it would have if she didn’t have such sharp reflexes.

Yes Mary. Is there something you want?

I want to come in and discuss with you a different kind of scary. She already had her hand on the door.

Look I know you are supposed to be an expert but I have this covered. I am the director. There goes that male arrogance she knew so much about.

I know but I really think it will help. May I come in?

Sure sure but make it quick. I have someone coming over for a casting in a few minutes. He licked his lips. He was a known womanizer, another reason why Mary came to him that evening.

No one heard him scream or ever saw him again. Dawn of the Dead—3D was never completed.

Part I

Revelation

Chapter 1

Prospect Creek, Alaska 23 January 2009

Silence. Most of William’s life passed in utter quiet. Be it in the sea or on a quest like the past few months, always accompanying him was the quiet. Presently, there was the constant sound of crunching snow under his boots, but that wasn’t the type of pleasing noise that he sought. He longed for the screams. The blissful screams of his victims were what he needed.

But presently they weren’t on the menu.

He was more or less on a diet for the past six months. Circling the globe for his mentor left little time for eating but today would hopefully end his solitude and expand his waistline. He laughed at the thought of himself gaining weight. For the last six hundred years, he constantly lost weight, hair, and sometimes body parts. The only thing that kept him going was the hunger. He would walk through fire for a bite to eat. It was not an exaggeration because he had done that before.

In two hours, he would meet his mentor and receive his final set of instructions. This was an exciting time for his kind. History was not on their side but this time would be different. This time he and the rest would sweep across the globe and devour every piece of flesh they could find. Finally, they would be on the top of the food chain where they belonged.

Chapter 2

William checked his watch for the third time. Normally, time wasn’t of the essence for him. But his assignment demanded timeliness and his mentor insisted on it for this particular task. As he checked his watch for the fourth time, he noticed that it was frozen—no doubt the result of the minus forty-degree temperature of this frozen tundra.

His mentor chose the region for two reasons: it was desolate and obscenely cold. Years ago, it was home to numerous mining expeditions and camps for the building of the Alaskan pipeline. Today, it was uninhabited with little activity other than the occasional lost bear.

Regarding the weather, for three months the average temperature was anywhere from thirty-two degrees or below. In 1971, the temperature reached eighty Fahrenheit or negative sixty Celsius. As a site for a secret lair, it was perfect.

As William got to the top of a rise he spotted the quartz mine, the home of his mentor for the past thirty years. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he looked at his clothes. More modern than anything his mentor would wear, but he was forced to look normal just in case someone was out on the grounds. Obviously, no one would be taking a stroll in the middle of nowhere, but why take the chance? He thought to himself. Preparedness was another lesson learned from his mentor and it had paid dividends many times over the years.

As he entered the mine, he pulled off his hood, revealing his reflection in the ice that had over taken the foundation of the shaft. His face was truly one only a mother could love. He studied his sunken eyes with the dead gray pupils and dried peeling flesh. If that weren’t convincing enough, his yellow and red tinted decayed teeth would do the trick. To look at him with his hood on, you wouldn’t know he was dead. But if you ever saw that face, chances are it would be too late.

A familiar voice greeted him as he walked deeper into the mine. He was now in a carved out portion of the mine that was now used as a makeshift living quarters. It was nothing more than a cavern. To make it this far, you had to be dead or would be very soon.

Chapter 3

Still trying to dress like them, I see? the older man said. He was seated on a chair in the corner completely naked except for a chain around his neck. The cave was barren except for the chair and scattered bones on the floor.

Not at all, but when walking outside I don’t want to draw any attention to myself, William said. A wise old man once told me that.

Yes he did, the old man said with a nearly toothless grin. What news of the virus?

It will be declared a global pandemic in a few months. Our people on the inside have all but guaranteed. We are still waiting for it to hit the United States and then our plan will be in full force.

What of the Fifth Estate? the older man asked. I am sure they are sticking their nose in our business?

No news of them yet, but it is only a matter of time. Besides, by the time they figure it out it will be too late. Our numbers will have grown too many and too fast.

What about the bunkers? the older man asked. What do you know about them?

They will have no choice but to use them. If they want to save anyone, the bunkers will be their only way. I have documented some of the locations. We will have infiltrators in there to wreak havoc on the populace.

The old man eyed his young pupil with pride. Everything was going according to plan. He, of course, knew all of this already. He always did his own work before asking another to begin the task. This was far too important to trust to even his most competent student.

So you don’t think they will discover the origin before the bunkers open? continued the older man.

No, I don’t. Even if they did, there is no cure for our condition.

Don’t be so overconfident. I have learned over a very long life that humans are very resourceful. We cannot depend on their humanity to be their undoing.

Is that why you still wear that chain, to remind you of their resourcefulness?

The older man fingered the crucifix that hung from the chain around his neck. It was a reminder of a lost battle from so long ago. Caliph (as he was known then) had come so close to final victory only to have the humans and the others inexplicably thwart his plan.

I will not take them so lightly again.

Then we are still going forward with the unleashing? William asked. If the virus didn’t decimate the human population, then surely the unleashing would, he thought.

Yes. That is the other reason why I summoned you. I want you to send word that all zombies nesting in the North Atlantic and South Pole are to join us. Those additional millions will surely envelope the globe in dark death.

As you wish, William replied. Should I leave now?

No. We have achieved a slight victory and we must commemorate it with a fine meal. Caliph clapped his hands and another zombie led a dozen shackled humans into the cave. They were alive, but barely considering they were walking around in the extreme cold wearing nothing more than undergarments.

Where did you find them? asked William. He was famished. He was always ravenous. The hunger is what drove them to go to war.

Oh here and there, replied the older zombie. They used to be well known scientists. But now that their usefulness ended, they were scheduled for another more delicious service.

I hate it when they are chained, William said.

Then unchain them, but don’t play with your food. We are not vampires, for God’s sake.

Chapter 4

The meal done, William made his way back outside. His mentor again chastised him about his choice of clothes. But William did not like walking around naked. Being exposed like that was not to his liking. That self-awareness was probably the last piece of humanity left after six hundred years.

His new orders would first take him east to the Beaufort Sea. The salt water was good for his skin and was necessary because at his age, body parts just fell off sometimes. Ever since he turned four hundred, fingers and toes started to disappear. From the sea he would make his way to the North Atlantic to speak with his brethren who nested at the bottom.

He was amused how humans thought that nothing could survive at such depths. True there was pressure, but the deeper one went the lighter it became. How the living had come to rule this planet was beyond his knowledge considering how little they actually knew of their world.

William had visited his North Atlantic brethren once in the early 19th century and had fond memories of the journey remained. There was a huge ocean disaster that fed their people for a few weeks. The flesh was kept perfectly preserved for weeks due to the water’s cold temperature. The event itself was still a big deal in the human world. Unfortunately, they make cruise ships sturdier nowadays, he thought.

From the North Atlantic, he would hitch a ride to the South Pole. The zombies nesting in that realm were not of his liking. They distrusted their own kind, but Caliph had sent word that an ally was coming down so he wasn’t as apprehensive as he normally would be in that circumstance.

His last task was one that was in the making for over a century. He would have to capture a member of that bothersome Fifth Estate. He knew of one. William had been watching her since she was born. He wasn’t allowed to touch her before, but now the gloves were off.

Chapter 5

Paris, France 7 October 2009 Mid-Afternoon

For the residents of Paris, October is probably the most civilized month of the year. The leaves are turning as France’s already-picturesque villages surrender to autumn. It is the month of Halloween, which still retains its old-fashioned innocence in France, and is also an opportune time to sample delectable candies and chocolates. Best of all, it was the time of the year when the pesky tourists went back home. Finally, so close to the end of the year, Paris was returned to its true people.

That was the world that Chantal Baptiste was in one fine day in October. She was in the park with her youngest son, Jean-Luc, eating candy and watching the jugglers perform their tricks. There was one gentleman in particular who used a mixture of bowling balls, knives, and apples. At the end of his routine, he would stick one of the knives in his mouth and catch one of the apples on the edge. It was brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that her little boy let it be known that he wanted to be him when he grew up. She knew that could never be, but she would indulge him for now.

Anyone looking at her with her son would think that she was just an ordinary stay-at-home mom with nothing better to do than spend endless hours cuddling her spoiled child. But that was far from the truth. More than anything, that is what she wanted to be, but her family’s name and legacy would not allow for such a simple life. She was a single mother of three and that alone made her life complicated but it was the associations she kept that made her different.

Mommy, Mommy, can we get more chocolate? her son asked, shaking her from her daydreaming.

Yes, but what did Mommy tell you about speaking in English? Chantal replied. You have to start speaking more in your native tongue. These trips to the park were supposed to be fun, but sometimes lessons had to be taught at the same time. Her son’s tutors were always bemoaning the lack of the usefulness of the French language and sneakily giving her son more than double the dose of English lessons. So much, in fact, that he favored it more than his own. Her little admonishments were her way of smacking back at the system.

Maman peut on obtenir plus de chocolat? he asked.

Oui, Chantal replied. He was so cute and so smart, just like all of her other children. Life was definitely good to them. They had money, esteem, power and most of all, anonymity. The anonymity was the true power.

They were standing in line for candy when her phone started buzzing. She was going to ignore it, but her son had already plucked it out of her pocket.

Give Mommy the phone, dear. Hello? This is Chantal, she said into the phone.

Immediately she was upset at herself for speaking English but he