by A. Giacomi
Jazz doesn’t raise an eyebrow or bat a lash. She simply says, “I’ll see what I can do.” She shoots me another large grin and then takes her leave. She really is kinder than I deserve.
My next visitor is a little less friendly. Agent Williams knocks on the door and asks to enter.
“Yeah, come in,” I say in a less than excited tone. I really don’t want to see him; I know that something is up, and I really don’t want to hear it right now.
He enters the room without looking at me and heads to his corner of the room. Something in his walk looks wounded. What can I have possibly done to him? As he sits in the chair, he slumps down into it and rests his head on the wall. It looks as though he is trying to doze off, but before he does, he asks, “Eve, will you come here for a moment?”
Curiosity bids me to move my ass, but my ego wants to ignore him completely. I reluctantly give in to inquisitiveness and venture over to his corner. “What do you want?” I say harshly.
He asks me to hold out my right arm, which I provide. I am startled when he pulls out a pocket knife and jabs it into my wrist. He digs in deep, and I scream as he scoops out the small tracker that was implanted before my escape. It flies through the air and lands on the floor by Agent Williams’ feet. He takes the chip and puts the knife away as he mouths the words, “You’re welcome.”
I stand there, my mouth hanging open with absolute loathing. “You could have at least warned me that you were going to stab me. I like to be prepared for a dick move like that.”
Agent Williams stands up from his seat and gets right in my face. “I just did you a favour, and it’s not the first time, unless you’ve already forgotten?” He steadies his breathing before continuing. “Now get some rest. We have training to continue in the morning.”
I give a large grunt and then turn away from him and head towards my beckoning bed. I am tired enough to sleep and sick of his bullshit already. Whatever is bothering him will have to wait because I have no fucks left to give.
***
The next morning, I am awoken by Jazz entering the room with my meal. There is a silver tray covered with a silver lid. The lid shifts back and forth with life. I can’t help drooling; I am famished, and although Agent Williams and Jazz smell good enough to eat, I try my very best not to rip them apart, which is more difficult than I let on.
The meal is a cat, and a very fat one at that. It looks up at me with its green eyes and purrs ever so softly. I feel terrible for all of two seconds, and then the virus takes over, and my guilt simply turns to hungry rage. I rip my teeth into its gut, spilling its organs and allowing its blood to pour down my throat. It is glorious.
After taking its little life, I beg Jazz not to bring me any more cute things. I feel more like a monster that way. She shrugs. “Honey, most animals are cute. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best, but I just serve what I’m given.” And with that, she takes what’s left of the carcass and wheels the tray away.
Agent Williams stares at me without speaking. I look down at myself. Right, I am covered in blood. I ask Agent Williams to excuse me for a moment so that I can have a shower before our training begins. He waves me on apathetically.
As I stand in the shower rinsing the blood from my skin, I watch the red liquid circle the drain. My body quivers with sadness. I got a taste of freedom, and I liked it too much. Being around Cam and Alex was a tease, and although I will never take back those short moments, it does make it harder to push on. The weight of my sorrow takes hold of me, and since I am alone for the first time in ages, I decide sobbing will allow me some release. I sob until the tears run out and the water runs clear down the drain. It is odd, but crying only makes me feel better. I can’t bottle it in forever.
When I am back in Agent Williams’ sight, I feel refreshed, brand new, and ready to take on any task he throws at me, especially if it involves throwing him down a well.
I remain professional as I follow him down the many hallways leading to the training room. When we arrive, I notice someone is already there. Their clothes are tattered, and their back faces us. I give Agent Williams a confused look, and he smirks that asshole grin back at me. I really thought he was finished with that!
As I approach the center of the training room, I realize that it is a man, and one of his legs is chained to the floor. Before I can tap the man’s shoulder, he turns and snarls at me. I take a few steps back, grateful for his chains, because this is no man. This is a zombie.
The zombie glares at Agent Williams and me, moving his mouth and clacking his teeth together. I can see that his skin is turning slightly green, and the skin around his mouth has peeled away. A face without lips is an odd and terrifying sight.
“Umm, Agent Williams, what the hell? You could have at least warned me! Where did you even find this thing?”
Agent Williams moves closer to the zombie, his bravery dependent on the zombie’s restraints. “The Mexican government sent him as a thank you. Thought we could use one of our own for testing. Generous, no?”
I laugh in a mocking way. “Yes, very, very generous. Now, what the heck are we supposed to do with it?”
The annoying grin never leaves his lips as he outlines today’s training session. “Today, we fight the zombie without weapons. I need the training just as much as you do.”
I chuckle as I recall him being the one needing saving in Chichén Itzá. I am perfectly fine handling those zombies on my own, or has he forgotten about my little defect? I am stronger than I look thanks to the Azrael Virus, so today’s training will be a piece of cake.
We flip a coin, and since I lose the toss, I have to go first. Agent Williams heads to the control panel in the corner of the room and asks me to shout ready when I want him to release the zombie’s chains.
I study the zombie carefully. He doesn’t seem too fast with his legs, but his arms can swipe quite hastily with great accuracy, and his eyes never leave my face. If he is too busy watching my face, perhaps I can take him down easily. Without further ado, I shout, “Ready!” and the chains fall away from the zombie’s leg.
He waddles towards me at first, letting me believe that I have ample time to plan my attack, but before my brain can react, he sprints at me and knocks me down. This zombie feels particularly heavy. It feels as though a ton of bricks has been laid on top of me. I try to roll him off, but his grip on my wrists makes him impossible to remove. I decide a head butt may do the trick, and when I make contact, Zombie Bob flies backwards, looking a bit disoriented. I scramble to my feet, readying myself for the next attack. This no-weapons thing sucks!
Zombie Bob rises and seems angrier now. “It’s hard not getting what you want, isn’t it, boy?” I egg him on so that he’ll sprint towards me, and he reacts accordingly. I grab him by the chest, lift him into the air, and smash him to the ground. Zombie Bob lets out a huge grunt and stays down long enough for me to claim victory.
Showing off my strength in front of Agent Williams makes me feel superior, and I sarcastically curtsey to him before joining him beside the control panel. I whisper in his ear, “Your turn, hot stuff.” I can swear I see him blush, but it is hard to be sure, because he is quick to leave my side and attend to our zombie friend.
The zombie is now up and walking again. He spies Agent Williams and devours him with his eyes. Agent Williams decides to crouch in a low fighting stance. This seems to confuse our zombie friend, who lacks the ability to crouch. I suppose rotting corpses are a bit stiff, and I have to admit I am a little impressed by Agent Williams’ quick thinking.
The zombie circles around him, clawing the air but never reaching Agent Williams, who is tucked lower than the zombie’s grasp. Soon, Agent Williams makes his move and punches the zombie’s knee so hard that it cracks. The snapping sound fills the room as Zombie Bob crumples to the ground. This minor injury does not stop the zombie from crawling towards Agent Williams. The desire to feed is so strong
that the zombie will use all of its last efforts to reach its meal. Agent Williams is now standing tall and hovering above the pathetic-looking zombie. He raises his boot into the air and stomps it down upon the zombie’s skull, causing the head to blow apart from the sheer force. Pieces of rotten brain ooze and spatter out, along with shards of bone. A piece of brain lands right on my pant leg, and I subconsciously yell, “Eww” as if it is a small bug invading my space.
Agent Williams is panting as he heads towards the phone by the door. He dials a number and through breaths asks for a cleanup task force to training room one.
I am slightly impressed, but I hide my grin since I am sure I am still mad at him. Agent Williams approaches me and wipes away a few beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Eve, you’re stronger and faster than me. That should have been you ripping that zombie’s head apart. You could do that easily. Why did you hesitate?”
His criticism makes my blood boil, and I spit out, “Oh, I’m sorry that I didn’t perform to your liking, sir. I think I did a very good job of saving your ass along with Major Tom’s back in Mexico. So if you don’t mind, I’m a little tired of zombie slaying at the moment.”
Agent Williams looks at me with fury in his eyes but doesn’t speak another word. He puts his sweater back on and starts to leave the training facility. I’m not going to let him leave without finishing my thoughts, so I throw some more bile at him. “What exactly is your problem, Agent Williams? You’ve been a sour little boy since we got back. Can I just know why? I really thought you were starting to be less of an asshole. I guess I was wrong.”
I feel a little sadness with that fact. I could use more friends in here, but it seems as though Agent Williams wants nothing to do with me. Was he ordered to keep his distance?
“Eve, we’re here to learn how to kill zombies. Stop getting so emotional. I just want the job done right.”
His careless words sting. “But I’m one of them!” I cry out. “You forget that I think. That I’m not just a cold agent like you are. I had a life before this. Would it kill you to be a little kinder? I’m doing my best.”
I leave the room before he can. I don’t want to cry in front of him, but lately, it seems like all I am good for: chomping down on meals and zombies and crying. What a pathetic existence. I decide that if I go back to my room I will only feel encouraged to cry, so I decide that visiting Dr. August is an improved choice.
When I arrive at the lab, Dr. August greets me with a hug. His unruly salt and pepper hair tickles my cheek during the embrace. He has no idea how much I need that right now. I want to tell him about my visit with Cam and Alex, but there are too many people around, and it doesn’t feel private enough of a discussion zone.
“Dr. August, I’m in desperate need of a distraction. Please tell me that you’ve found something in my blood samples. It seems like I’ve been waiting for ages to find out anything.”
He smiles a rather large grin. “Actually yes, I have discovered something very interesting that you might care to observe with me.” He directs me to the microscope. “It’s easier if I show you. Here, have a look.”
He places the first slide under the microscope, and as I glance down, the blood on the slide is motionless, stagnant. The second slide is slightly lighter and pulses and flows with life. I remove my eye from the microscope and shrug. I don’t really understand what I am looking at, but I know it is two different types of blood.
Dr. August explains that both slides are samples of my blood, which confuses me even more. “But I’m dead. How can that second slide be mine? That blood looks so…healthy.”
Dr. August looks almost excited as he explains further. “Yes, true, it’s healthy! The Azrael Virus is strange. It wants to keep you half alive and half deceased. I took these samples at different times, and sometimes the blood I extract is dead, and sometimes it is living. It’s strange, but they coexist.”
“So what does that mean for me, Doc?” I ask impatiently.
He explains that there is hope of a cure, which is all I wanted to know in the first place. I try not to act too excited because it is only a theory. Dr. August explains that the virus has not fully taken over yet but that it is trying to, almost like a cancer. My excitement vanishes at the “C” word, and I instinctively rub the locket around my neck as my nerves mount. I know that the word “spreading” isn’t a good one. It means that there is a timeframe we are working within, and so I ask the question that I fear the answer to the most. “How long until the virus completely takes over?”
Dr. August looks nervous. He never likes to give bad news. In fact, that is the joke he told at many of our lectures, that he could have been a wonderful surgeon if only he could have handled delivering bad news, because bad news was inevitable in that field. He would laugh that he chose Anthropology because all of his patients were already dead. He was right, to a certain extent. I suppose he never thought a creature like me possible, or he might have just become a plumber.
I grab him by the shoulders. “Please, just tell me, Dr. August. I don’t have the energy to play guessing games. I just need honest answers. Please.”
He nods, understanding my desperation. “Okay, but you must remember I have to run some more tests before I can be positive. From what I’ve seen so far, and at the rate the deceased blood is growing, you seem to have approximately…two years…give or take.”
The news hits me like a bus. I choke on the words “two years.” That’s all I have remaining in my coherent semi-human life? And what will I become after that? No one knows; I am the first of my kind. Not a full zombie, nor a full human. I am this hybrid thing with only two years left as a hybrid thing.
I thank Dr. August for his candor. Honesty is always more difficult than a lie, and I appreciate the truth no matter how terrifying it is to hear.
I allow him to take a few more blood samples before leaving the lab and retreating to my room. I walk the sterile hallways very slowly. My walking matters very little as I become more and more lost in my thoughts. I might have enough going through my mind to walk me across North America and still have more to think on.
My thoughts race to Cam and how I left him in ruins, then to Alex who I forced to keep secrets, and then to Agent Williams. No matter how hard I try, that damn man invades my thoughts. I smack my forehead, trying to physically remove him and his jerk-sized smile, but it is no use.
Before I reach my room, Vallincourt catches up to me in the hallway and redirects me to his office. He says we have very important business to attend to, so of course, I follow him without question. His office is empty, except for Agent Williams, who looks about as thrilled as I do. His brows furrow, making his light eyes seem dimmer. Still mad, I take it.
Special Agent Vallincourt takes out a file for us and plops it on his desk for our viewing pleasure. When Agent Williams doesn’t reach for it, I decide to make the first move. The first page in the file says, “Top Secret Mission to Pompeii.”
I can feel my eyes growing wider and wider as I read on. When I get to the last page, I drop the file and scream, “No way! That’s impossible!”
Agent Williams looks more intrigued now and scoops the file off of the floor to have a look for himself. His eyes widen as he sifts through the information; it makes me feel better knowing that I read it right.
Agent Williams places the file back on Vallincourt’s desk. “Sir, has this been confirmed by witnesses? This is simply too bizarre. Pompeii has been stable since its demise. There have been many tourists in and out, and no one has ever spoken of zombies.”
I know a little bit about Pompeii from one of my ancient civilization classes. Mount Vesuvius erupted, and it’s spewing lava covered the city of Pompeii before many could escape. The lava encased the unfortunate humans underneath its fiery lake, and when it hardened, the bodies remained as statues within the city’s walls.
Those poor sou
ls never stood a chance, and now they are on display, their last moments on earth captured and marveled at, but not for much longer. The file mentions that tourists felt rumblings under the earth and thought that the volcano may once again spew its angry bile, but that isn’t the most alarming piece of information. The file holds an eyewitness account from a staff member on site by the name of Mario Zattini. Mario works as the groundskeeper at Pompeii; he makes sure the premises are clean, and his shift mostly takes place at night. He had mentioned strange moaning sounds coming from the walls for years, but most people just called him a coward, causing Mario to shut up about it for awhile. It isn’t until recently that Mario noticed something even stranger; people started to go missing. Corpses from the walls were either purposely removed or just up and walked away. In addition to Mario’s account about the missing bodies from the walls, a few other missing people reports were thrown into the file: a little girl and an elderly couple, very easy prey for zombies since they don’t move too quickly themselves.
The file also contains some photos of blood-smeared walls, like hands, dragged across them. The photos were taken only a few days ago, and this blood most likely belongs to those missing people. I have no doubt that they are now one of those zombies, and if we don’t get over to Italy soon, the whole city of Pompeii may awaken, and after being encased for so long, who knows how hungry they will be?
“When do we leave, sir?” I say without hesitation.
“Tonight, agents. I need you in Italy to protect those people. They’ve already added extra security to the attraction, but they don’t know what you two know. We need your expertise, and hopefully, there won’t be much work for you to do. My only concern is Mount Vesuvius. I’m not sure if it’s connected to the zombies, but I need you to find out. Hopefully, it won’t erupt while you’re there,” Vallincourt says, feigning concern.
