by Giacomi, A.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Text Copyright ©2016
All rights reserved
Published by CHBB Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.
Edited by Jessica Meigs
Cover by David Walker
Interior Formatting by Dreams2media
This book is dedicated to the other half of my heart. I would say we share one, but that would be gross.
Instead, let me say that I couldn’t do this without your light and laughter. Thank you for taking everything less seriously than I do and reminding me that a smile is life’s greatest gift.
“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART 1: HOW TO TRAIN A ZOMBIE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PART 2: THE NEXT PHASE
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
PART 3: RELEASE & CATCH
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PART 1: HOW TO TRAIN A ZOMBIE
CHAPTER ONE
EVE
I can taste something foul in my mouth as I gasp and jolt upright. The best way to describe the taste is a combination of melted aspirin and dirt. I scrape my fingers along my tongue, trying to remove the awful taste. My body feels oddly relaxed, like I have been sleeping for a week or so. As I sit up in my bed, I observe the excessively white room that I now call home.
My hand is still clutching something as I glance back down. My locket—or should I say my mother’s locket—is fiercely guarded by each finger. I release my grasp to look at it and open it gently. Inside is a lock of hair, her hair. I remember the day we placed it in the locket, a symbol of her cancer and a reminder that she could beat it, and she did. This is my luck charm, but now it just seems like a distant memory. It is all I have left of my family in the physical sense. I have no photos or other mementos, only the memories that will now haunt me rather than comfort me. I can’t go back to them. I am dead, at least twice now, once in reality, once in a fictitious story, and the next, if I even get three chances, might be my last.
A voice keeps ringing in my ears. It’s my mother asking why I left and how I could leave her. Her voice cries, and I ache all over. A sob rises in my throat, and I quickly shove it back into my lungs as the door clicks open.
Agent Williams stands in the doorway grinning in his asshole-like way. How I despise his face; I really could just chew it right off. He knows that, of course, and must be prepared for such an action. I decide against trying my luck and re-direct my thoughts to the locket as he begins to talk.
“Ah, Eve, I trust you slept well?” he says with a slight smirk.
I remain silent, my eyes on the locket.
“Not a morning person, I take it? Well, that’s fine. Neither am I. I just came by to mention that testing starts today. Someone will be in shortly to take a few samples and give you some new garments. Do you have any questions for me?”
I glare at him as if my eyes can shoot daggers. “Only one. Why did you gas my room last night? I didn’t take you for the type with trust issues.”
He sighs, sounding rather annoyed. “Eve, it’s protocol. The virus is, as you say, unpredictable. You could be a danger to yourself or others. It was merely a sleeping gas. Besides, with all you’ve been through, you most likely needed a good night’s rest. Am I right? No tossing or turning, just slumber, must feel good.”
And there’s that grin again, disgusting! The suit he always wears makes him seem all the more despicable. There is something about suits I don’t trust, and perhaps that is a good thing.
“No more gas!” I scream.
“But, Eve, like I said, it’s protocol.”
“Fuck your protocol! I’m not a prisoner, remember? I came here willingly, and if you’re going to treat me like a fucking animal, then I am going to act like one. Do you understand? NO…MORE…GAS!” I hiss as I finish my last word.
Agent Williams rolls his eyes, and I know that I have won this battle, for now anyway.
“Fine, as long as you continue to cooperate, I see no need for the sleeping gas. I will let them know. I must take my leave now. See you in lab five.”
I nod and scowl. My face refuses to soften until one of the nurses enters the room with a pile of clothing and some hygiene items. She has a kind face, almost childlike. I want to like her immediately, but apparently, I am the one with trust issues now.
“Hi Eve, my name is Jazz, short for Jasmine. I will be your nurse, helper, confidant, and friend. Whatever your need is, well, that’s me. You’ll notice a button beside the lamp on your bedside. You can buzz that whenever you need me.”
I nod and examine her as she begins to stack mandatory items around my room. A bathrobe, some towels, soap, clothing. It goes on and on, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. She is beautiful, an Indian woman, her voice bigger than her stature, her eyes bright and cheerful. Her lips hold a perfectly innocent pout. Everything about her screams trustworthy, but I am determined to despise her. She must be a spy, and I convince myself that I can’t trust her. After all, she works for Agent Williams, and I am damn sure I can’t trust him.
When she completes her errands, Jazz stands in front of me, baffled. I am aware her eyes are on me, but I’m unable to move. Something inside of me is burning.
“Eve? Don’t you want to wash up and get ready?” she says with an eyebrow raised.
I can’t seem to get a word out; it feels as though someone is strangling me from the inside. Tears start to flood my eyes, and I make this unattractive screeching sound that I have never heard before. Jazz looks frightened but approaches me regardless of her fear. She places her hands on my shoulders gently and allows me to cry. She doesn’t speak or try to spit out cliché words of comfort. She just sits with me.
Dammit. She’s insistent that I like her, isn’t she?
As I let Jazz hold me, I think of my mother and father and even my damn dog Winston who thinks I’m a freak. I sob heavily, letting the realization hit me that I will never see them again. I have to feel this eventually, feel it fully so that I can move on. My mind then moves to Cam and Alex and how I l
eft them in Dr. August’s office, Cam unconscious and Alex emotionally wounded by my harsh words. I told her that it was their fault I had to leave, which wasn’t true at all. This was my choice. I chose to become a voluntary lab rat. It seemed like the only way to keep the world safe. I simply wasn’t safe anymore; Agent Williams was right about that.
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand as my thoughts linger on Cam. I wish we could have a future together, but a zombie girl and a human boy seem like a disastrous combination. My long-time friend and short-term lover will be better off without me. I pray he will move on and never think of me, but that isn’t Cam’s style. It aches to know that I caused him pain.
The sharp pain in my throat begins to build, but it’s not sadness anymore; it’s hunger. Jazz is still holding my shoulders as I shoot her a pleading look. I fight my urge to tear into the hands that hold me.
“Get away from me,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Eve?” she says in a confused tone as she cocks her head to one side.
I suspect they haven’t told her the whole truth about me yet. Big mistake on their part, and big mistake on hers for not inquiring. I grab her hands so violently that she squeals like a trapped pig. I can feel my nails digging into her flesh. I try to fight the urge to eat, but it’s getting impossible to hold myself back. I see the fear in Jazz’s eyes, and with my last bit of sanity, I beg her to lock herself in the washroom.
With that advice, she rips her flesh away from my clutches with all the force she has and sprints towards the bathroom, locking the door behind her. I am glad she didn’t hesitate, smart woman. I growl like a hungry wolf and begin to walk towards the bathroom. I know security will be here soon to stop me, which is a very good thing because I have the ability to break down that door. The Azrael Virus that courses through my veins also makes me incredibly strong and increasingly dangerous; perhaps the sleeping gas was a good idea. I might have to reconsider it.
My fists find the door and begin to slam against it with inhuman force. I create a few dents with each new strike. I can hear Jazz screaming from the other side of the doorway, and it makes me so much hungrier. It will be best if she simply shuts up already. My fists slam against the white metal door so hard that the skin breaks, and I am left slapping blood against the door as if I am creating a gruesome painting. My mind is screaming for control, but this is simply the way the Azrael Virus works; it owns my actions but not my consciousness. It is a terrible feeling knowing that I am being forced to do things I don’t want to do. My blood has betrayed me. I am now its hostage.
I feel something hit me from behind. Something sharp is lodged in my neck, and before I can react, my body hits the floor. I am still snarling, but my body is submissive. Security guards fill the room and retrieve a rather pale-looking Jazz from my lavatory. The next face I see is that of Dr. August, a familiar face, but it doesn’t ease my hunger. He signals to someone that I can’t see, and then a white fluffy bunny rabbit is placed in front of me by one of the security guards. I hear Dr. August saying, “Eat, eat, eat.”
I know that’s what I must do, but does it have to be the freakin’ Easter Bunny?
The bunny is inches from my teeth, and I tear into it as if it is a steak dinner. The blood gushes, and I hear a few people say, “Ewww,” but I continue to tear at its warm flesh until there is mostly bone left. Once finished, my head feels clearer, and I am able to speak like a normal human being again.
“Did you guys really have to give me a bunny? God! That poor little thing! Get me something less cute next time. I feel like such an awful person.”
Dr. August helps me up off the floor. The tranquilizer is starting to wear off, but my body is still a bit heavy from it.
“Sorry, Eve, it’s what we had. Labs usually have some forms of rabbits or mice. That’s usually what we use for tests, and we have an endless supply of them. My apologies, but I think you better get used to eating cute things. It’s much better than eating human things, at least.”
He has a point.
***
We head down to Laboratory #5. Dr. August seems to know the facility well, but for me, every hallway looks the same. The same stretch of doors in each hallway and the red lights lining the pathways give the entire place an unnatural glow. It feels very much like a spaceship.
Dr. August comes to a halt in front of a plain white door. It looks like every other door in this place, except it has a number five on it. When Dr. August opens the door, I realize just how amazing this laboratory actually is. The plain white door with a small number on it is deceiving. The lab is full of computers and large monitors on every wall. There are tables with test tubes and fridges with clear doors that hold some funny-coloured liquids. There are already many scientists buzzing about in the lab. In one corner, some of them are working with tiny animals. In another corner, there are scientists looking into microscopes and then discussing something about their findings. In the middle of this large lab is Agent Williams, standing with his arms crossed.
My favourite person…
“Hello, Eve. Heard that you had a bit of a rough morning. Are you feeling better?”
I try not to let him get to me, but somehow he manages to get under my skin like a starved mosquito. That sarcastic tone is filled with judgment. I can’t help thinking, Why does he hate me so much? I didn’t get bitten by a zombie in Egypt on purpose! I went on that dig because I wanted to be the next Indiana Jones, not the next zombie girl.
I don’t make eye contact with Agent Williams; I just give him a brief smirk and follow Dr. August to the part of the lab that we will be working in today. Dr. August points to a chair and bids me to sit.
“Today will be a rather easy day, Eve. Just some blood samples to get things started. Let me know if you start to feel hungry. We can grab you a lab animal before you…”
He trails off and fidgets with his fingers awkwardly, but I know what he was about to say. Everyone is thinking it, even me. He means before I attack anyone, before I become the thing that I can’t separate myself from. The monster that lives in my veins, The Azrael Virus.
I don’t comment. I simply pull up my sleeve and allow my former professor to begin his work, but Dr. August has trouble getting more than a few drops. He must have forgotten that I can heal rapidly. I decide to help him out by grabbing the scalpel off a nearby metal tray.
“Here, Doctor, let me help you…” I slice into my arm, and the blood pours out.
“Eve! My goodness! What a mess!”
He looks a bit pale but manages to fill a few tubes before the blood stops running and the wound closes. The nurse comes over and wipes my arm; she gives a slight gasp when she notices that the wound has vanished. Either no one here has been briefed on what I am, or they simply don’t believe it until they see it for themselves. The fear in her eyes brings back memories of Alex, one of my best friends since high school. I loved that girl, but once she found out about my little predicament, she began to look at me in that same horrified way. Your eyes can’t hide the truth about what you feel, and although I knew she loved me, I also knew she feared me, and that hurt.
Another agent greeting me interrupts my self-pity party, and Agent Williams follows close behind him. The man is much older than Agent Williams, perhaps fifty or sixty years old. His hair is grey, and his features are a blend of so many cultures that I can’t pick one. He isn’t a smiler, and that is almost a relief. I can only handle one asshole smiler, and Agent Williams already holds that job title.
“Good morning, Eve. My name is Special Agent Vallincourt. I run this facility and oversee the staff and experiments here.”
“Experiments.” That means me.
I offer my hand, but he does not take it. He seems cautious, like I can pass the virus onto him simply through an act of courtesy. If I really want to infect him, I can tear his throat out in seconds.
“Eve, we need t
o have a discussion in my office. Have you finished your testing for today?” he asks me, but he turns to Dr. August, who nods. “Great, then follow me this way.”
I follow Special Agent Vallincourt out of the lab and am disappointed to see that Agent Williams is following. I suppose his second in command will be joining us for this little meeting. I roll my eyes with contempt but try to hold my tongue. I am trying really hard to be on my best behavior, since this lab is going to be my home indefinitely.
After a series of long white hallways lit with red pathway lights, we arrive at a large metal door. There is a keypad to the right of it, and Special Agent Vallincourt enters a password. The metal doors slide open and inside is the office above all offices. The only other man that might have an office such as this might be Donald Trump. There are golden items everywhere; some items look like museum property. The office has a fireplace and a sitting area, complete with a wall of television screens that lay just behind Vallincourt’s desk. It seems like he can watch every part of the world with all those screens, and perhaps he does. The screens serve as a false window; since we are underground, daylight is a distant luxury. It seems television screens are as close as most people in the facility come to escaping this place.
Vallincourt sits at his desk and signals for us to have a seat in the chairs situated across from him. I reluctantly sit beside Agent Williams, who pulls out the chair for me and then pushes it forward when I’m seated. That was extremely unnecessary. I can’t tell what game Agent Williams is playing, but if he thinks that we can somehow become friends, he is dead wrong.
Vallincourt takes out a file from one of his desk drawers and opens it. I can see my photo inside, but the writing is much too small to read from my angle.
“Eve, I know you came to us and not the other way around. I understand that this must have been a difficult choice, and I respect your decision. You’re a lot braver than most people. Most people would continue to try and lead an ordinary life knowing full well they were endangering everyone they encountered, but you, you made the tough call, and I want to reward you for that.”
