The Cerebrum Plan

By Sunny TAJ

The year is 2222. The old world is no more, having been ravaged by the Black Scourge that has stricken humanity and separated it into three camps: white, red, and black. Berenice is a twenty-two-year-old Cerebrum protected by the walls of the White Citadel, where she spends her days studying ancient books in search of a solution for the survival of humanity. When her father, the Chamberlain, is murdered in a power struggle, she must venture into the Red Area for the first time in her life. As she discovers a totally unknown world there, the question of survival comes about.
Can she find her way among the Corpuses, who reign only through violence and the law of the strongest? As the living proof of oppressive power, will she be able to rally Sam X, a dangerous renegade known as "Gravedigger," as her ally?
Will she endure when the Zothers, people infected by the Black Scourge, are constantly on the prowl?

Dive into this post-apocalyptic dystopian tale, where true evil can be found when you least expect it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunny TAJ
• Release date: Apr 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9782494720046

Sunny TAJ

Stories are, for me, the door to the imaginary world that can be opened infinitely to escape at will. Welcome to my world of Urban Fantasy, with its mix of strong characters, action, suspense and humor. I hope you'll enjoy the journey with me!

Book preview

The Cerebrum Plan

Sunny TAJ

Independant

Copyright © 2024 Sunny TAJ

Credits

Cover by getcovers.com

Edited by Donna Marie West

Legal Information

All rights reserved.

The characters and events described in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is fortuitous and not intended by the author.

Any remaining errors are the sole responsibility of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 9 782 494 720 046

Publisher: Sunny TAJ Editions

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Epilogue

Also by Sunny TAJ

List of Main Characters

Acknowledgments

About the author

Prologue

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Cerebrum Command Center—Secret Base—Minnesota

July 4, 2033—Message sent to all group members

My brothers and sisters,

On this historic day that symbolizes the liberation of our people, the Black Scourge Plan will be launched tonight at midnight Central Standard time. Each of you has been given a roadmap to prepare for the advent of our new system, which will finally allow us to build a society purged of all the useless parasites that are so detrimental to the well-being of all.

We have worked tirelessly in the shadows, anticipating and planning for years to bring about this great day. We have prepared for the chaos that will ensue, for it is the culmination of a lifetime mission begun decades ago by our enlightened elected representatives.

The current global context, the result of incompetent and corrupt politicians, is beyond redemption.

We owe it to ourselves to preserve only the elite of humanity, who can ascend while leaving the rest to their decline.

It is a new world that awaits us, where we will be the undisputed masters and guarantors of a better future that lives up to our vision!

The Chamberlain

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December 21, 2033—Paris—TF1 JT[1] at 8:00 p.m.—Speech by the President of the Republic

"Dear fellow citizens,

It is with solemn regret that I announce to you tonight that humanity is lost.

The Black Scourge virus has infected over half the world’s population in a matter of weeks, turning loved ones into monsters hungry for human flesh and devoid of rational thought. They became the ‘Zothers,’ to use the term coined by the survivors who were able to witness the effects of this catastrophe on those around us.

The laboratory we suspected of being behind this catastrophic pandemic has just been destroyed by an explosion of such magnitude that we can no longer hope to recover any of their work. As a result, we have no hope of a cure or a vaccine.

However, researchers from all over the world, who have been working together for days, have discovered that the Zothers are particularly attracted to human body heat, which they detect in the infrared. This type of vision, caused by the virus that transforms the cornea, allows them to see their targets but not to distinguish details. Pheromones would allow them to recognize a person, as they seem to only attack humans, although animals can be contaminated by the virus when bitten. In that case, they must be slaughtered and their flesh must not be eaten, as we would be infected in turn, with all the consequences we now know only too well.

I would like to draw your attention to the only weakness we have been able to observe so far, because it is our only chance of escaping a Zothers attack. They are afraid of water, which seems to panic them, especially when it falls on them or when they are immersed in it. It won’t kill them, but it can slow them down and buy you the time you need to escape.

Finally, the only way to destroy them for good is to target the head, and especially to separate the brain from the brain stem; otherwise they will continue to live and be contagious. On the other hand, once the brain has been destroyed, the virus is apparently no longer transmissible, but researchers are not 100% sure of this, because mutations have already been observed in the last two months. These mutations seem to have increased the aggressiveness and decreased the incubation time, which has unfortunately dropped from a few hours to a few minutes. If someone close to you is infected, you must destroy them within seconds, or you will be doomed yourself.

These are the only keys to survival I can give you on this fateful day, because the state is no longer able to guarantee the security of our country. The few leaders still alive are with me, and we will do our best to bring you news as it comes, but there can be no guarantees as the Zothers have massively invaded our capital. We have taken refuge in a shelter, but they are camped outside our door as we speak, and our defenses are worn down by their repeated attacks. I can only hope you survive…"

Black screen.

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Cerebrum France Command Center—Base of Sacré-Cœur—Paris

January 1, 2034—Message sent to all group members

My brothers and sisters,

Since the Black Scourge has thwarted our projections, we’ve had to adjust our plans. In France, we are entrenched in the Montmartre District, where we have established our headquarters.

The lab there is now up and running with all the information we have been able to gather, and we are working on a solution to adapt the vaccine originally designed before the virus mutated.

We are confident that we can do this given the profile of our members, and we need to keep communication open between us, even if the infrastructure is destroyed in places.

Please respond to this message with any new data you have seen so we can finish what we started. Attached is a summary of our most recent work.

The Chamberlain

Message unanswered…

Chapter 1

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Year 2222—Pocket of survivors—Paris

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Berenice—Cerebra Prima

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Concentrating on the book I’m diligently filling in to carefully transcribe the results of my research on the Black Scourge, I don’t hear the door open behind me and jump at the scratch on my page.

Forgive me, Miss Berenice, Alena says with a groan, pale with fear at the prospect of disaster. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you didn’t answer when I knocked.

Don’t worry, I answer calmly, although I flinch inwardly. What’s so important that you have to interrupt my work?

Although this Corpus has been living in the White Citadel for several months now, she still seems to be haunted by fear. Her hair has grown a few centimeters, and a scraggly red veil surrounds her face, which has regained some color if not much in the way of curves. It will take some time for her to regain her physical equilibrium, and even longer for her psychological side if she manages to do so. Like all Corpuses in the Red Area, she has been traumatized by her life in this human mass on the one hand and the fight against the Zothers on the other. At sixteen, she now has a much greater chance of survival, protected by our compound, even if she doesn’t really seem to believe it.

Integrating these Corpuses into our ranks requires patience that I don’t have when I’m immersed in my research. I have to admit, however, that she has learned her duties relatively quickly and serves me well on a daily basis—unlike her predecessor, whom I had to dismiss because she was incapable of doing anything and took no care of my belongings. Finding good servants is a difficult task, especially considering my rank and responsibilities within the White Citadel.

I asked you a question, and I’d like an answer, I repeat in a drier tone than I’d intended, given her frightened silence.

Th-the Chamberlain has sent for you urgently, the unfortunate woman stammers before hurrying out of the room.

What a nuisance! Irritated by both my clumsiness and this unexpected setback, I close my book carefully and sigh. My days run like clockwork, and I still had a good two hours to finish transcribing the results I’d just discovered. I’m at a critical stage in my studies, and I can feel the solution just around the corner! My life’s work is important, even vital, because I’m supposed to be the one to find the cure for the Black Scourge. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been focused on my work, accepting few interruptions that take me away from my goal, even temporarily.

Torn between the desire to continue as planned and the order I’ve received that will put me behind schedule, I decide to grab my cloak from the hook by the window. After all, the daughter of the head of the White Citadel couldn’t appear without the pomp and circumstance befitting such a summons. The subject must be important for me to be called outside of the scheduled weekly meetings.

Looking out the window of the tower where my quarters have been since I was born twenty-two years ago, I see a battalion in the cobbled courtyard. They’re small dots from this height, but perfectly recognizable thanks to their blue uniforms. From my apartment, I have an unobstructed view of the surroundings: the old stone buildings, but also the greenhouses, the stables, the mill, the well, and, above all, the technical rooms. All of this is protected by the energy dome, which acts as an impenetrable bulwark against the outside world and provides a temperate climate ideal for crops and livestock. According to the ancient texts I study daily, our White Citadel is similar to the fortified villages that were so common in the Middle Ages. In fact, it was built on a hill once known as Montmartre, overlooking the remains of the great city that was once the nerve center of the country. Rubble sits in places where bombs dropped as a last resort destroyed everything, and rather well preserved remains in others. The result is an eclectic and bizarrely mixed landscape, where craters of gutted streets rub shoulders with still-standing Haussmann buildings.

Noticing the plastic coolers on the backs of some of the men, I conclude that the Delta Unit is back and that this justifies the interruption. I hope to finally get the samples I need to continue my work. Excited by this prospect, I hurry to the Directum room, careful not to fall down the stone stairs.

It has to be said that my spotless white toga isn’t exactly practical for getting around, but it is, like my cape, the symbol of my status as Cerebra Prima, future Chamberlain when my father is no longer around. Only Cerebrums are allowed to wear this color to identify the priority people to be rescued in the event of an attack, as we’re humanity’s only chance of survival.

Regaining my composure after a short run, I take a more measured step into the huge nave that serves as the meeting place for the leaders of our community.

Our ancestors chose this place after the Inferno because it was an old church, the Sacred Heart to give it its original name, whose thick stone walls guaranteed relative safety from the Zothers. What’s more, it was connected to an independent underground spring essential for our survival. Over the past two centuries, we’ve reclaimed this space, and now the entire perimeter within two kilometers of the hill where we built our citadel benefits from the walls erected by our predecessors.

Here you are at last, Berenice! exclaims my father the Chamberlain. The Delta Unit brought back what you asked for.

Perfect! I suspected as much when I saw the men in the courtyard. May I see them?

The battalion commander steps forward and hands me a cooler. Surprised by its weight, I drop it with a thud, masked by the captain’s scream of pain as the box hits him in the shin.

What’s wrong with your leg? I ask suspiciously as I carefully take a few steps back.

At my words, the battalion assigned to the security of the Directum, our government, moves in, drawing their swords from their sheaths to stand between the Delta Unit and our dignitaries. Everyone freezes and stares at their leader, frozen with anger and fear.

It’s nothing, he says through clenched teeth. An insignificant scratch.

You’ve been bitten by a Zother! shouts Harold, my father’s second-in-command. And you dare to return to the White Citadel, disregarding the safety of us all? Alpha Unit, take him to the gates of the Red Zone at once! This is unacceptable, and I’ll hold you personally responsible if it ever happens again, he spits the words out at the head of the unit in charge of his protection.

That’s not true! the incriminated captain screams. I fell on the edge of a beam during a battle! Thanks to the serum, I’m not contaminated, and—

It doesn’t matter, the Chamberlain interrupts curtly. Even if you’re not infected, you’ve been injured so badly that you can’t take a light blow. The cooler didn’t hit you very hard. You can’t be efficient when you’re injured. You know our rules very well. There is no place for the useless among us.

I look at the unit leader, who has no choice but to walk toward the exit, escorted not only by the Alpha Unit, but also by his men from the Delta Unit, who stare at him with some resentment tinged with relief. It’s true that the Chamberlain was lenient in not condemning the entire battalion, since they were all negligent in not noticing their leader’s wound.

Even if I’d wanted to help him, the look on my father’s face would have dissuaded me. We barely manage to maintain the valid community and, unfortunately, we don’t have the resources to deal with people who contribute nothing. It’s the hard law of the White Citadel, but it’s right for everyone’s survival.

I push aside the thought of this man, who will be replaced in a minute anyway, and return to my lab with my precious burden. I can’t wait to see if my deductions are correct.

Chapter 2

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Sam X—Corpus

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At the same time—Red Area

The entire south stand is occupied. Custos has maneuvered well and seems to have notified all available Corpuses of this hearing in addition to his permanent court. He wants to make a spectacle of it and demonstrate his power to as many people as possible, since I estimate that a few thousand people are present; that is to say, almost 75% of the survivors of this city, if we don’t count those from the White Citadel. Without giving anything away, I make my way to the podium where our leader is enthroned, surrounded by his bodyguards.

There was a time not so long ago when I was in charge of the security unit that Custos relies on to rule the Corpuses. I was number one among the forty or so men who, in pairs, were in charge of a sector of the Red Area.

But not anymore. Two years ago, I left my job as a right-hand man to take care of my little brother. Since then, our Supreme Commander, as he likes to call himself, has been doing everything he can to get his hands on me again. After all, no one can deny his law, even though I broke out of it with a bang by resigning my position as second-in-command. He was convinced I would come crawling back, and his pride took a big hit when I survived day after day without having to humiliate myself in front of him.

But I’m afraid this time he’s found a way to get the better of me, because he’s put Killian in the cage. It’s as bad as I feared. Clenching my fists to keep from giving in to my anger, I stop a few feet from the throne and turn my back on the Penance Room so that I can no longer see my friend’s frightened, pleading gaze. I need to keep a clear head if I’m going to have any hope of getting us out of this.

Sam X, Custos says in his strong voice, what a pleasure to see you here. It’s become increasingly rare lately.

It’s not like you left me much choice, I reply in a dull voice. "I got your message in Les Halles[2]."

Since you’ve been hiding like the rat you are, your friend has been waiting for a sign from you for two days. You took your time coming…

Of course, our hideout is secret; otherwise, my gang and I would all be in the cage doing Custos’s bidding.

What do you want for me to free Killian?

I might as well cut to the chase because I don’t want to give my former mentor any more opportunities to torture me. I’d already refrained from hitting his messenger when I was informed that he wanted to see me.

Still in a hurry, I see, he mocks. You’re not entirely wrong, because you need time to prepare for this mission. Here’s the drawing of what you need to get, he says, throwing a cylinder at my feet. When you’ve brought it back to me, Killian can leave. Until then, he’ll be my guest.

When I unfold the sheet of paper I’ve taken out of its protective cover, I discover a drawing that makes me shudder.

That’s in the Deep Black Zone! I exclaim. It’s much too dangerous!

But you’re Sam X, the Gravedigger, Custos dares to answer. What trouble is fighting a few Zothers for you?

I can’t guarantee my band’s safety if we venture out there. No one returns unscathed from that part of their territory. Even your own men avoid going there…

Then go alone. Or take them all and let them die out there, for all I care. Bring me the machine or your protege will be the next Tribute.

Barely a month. Even though I can’t see him, I can feel Killian’s dazed gaze and stop myself from pulling my axe out of the harness clearly visible behind my back. Alone against all of them, I couldn’t try anything useful. But I have to find a solution to prevent him from being used as a meal by the Zothers at the next sacrifice. This monthly ritual guarantees us some peace in the Red Area, but at the cost of some of our lives. Of course, it’s Custos who appoints the Tributes; this ensures that everyone is subservient to him, as no one wants to be targeted. He thus rules over the survivors, eliminating those who offend him in any way. I’ve only escaped this fate because I regularly explore the surrounding Black Zone, looking for anything that might help us survive. But this new mission will take me far beyond the perimeter where I regularly venture. And an unknown place is far more dangerous to understand. Yet if I’m to have any hope of saving my friend, I have no choice…

For such a journey, I’ll need water and food to keep me going. It’s several days on foot. And Killian mustn’t be mistreated while I’m gone. If that happens, I’ll keep my findings to myself.

There’s nothing more I can do for Killian at the moment, and so I set off again with the soul I no longer have, carrying two canisters that are full, but much lighter than my heart. At the bend in the road, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a shadow following me. Of course, it’s him. But I’ll lose him in the tunnels, no matter who Custos sends to discover our hiding place.

Loaded as I am, I can’t run as much as I’d like, but water is too precious to waste a drop. We’ve been making do with a small glass a day for the past ten days, and our reserves are almost exhausted. So, these two canisters are most welcome, even though I’m angry at the price we’re paying. Killian. Barely thirteen. He’s fast, but not fast enough. He was caught by one of Custos’s patrols the day before yesterday while trying to find something to barter in Les Halles, the trade center of