We look forward to working with you and will be in touch to prepare you for your indoctrination at the end of the month.
Sincerely,
Tom Stevens
Director, Zombie World Parks, Inc.
A “working vacation” living amongst the undead … I got the idea when I first heard about Zombie World, the new ‘Living Dead Theme Park Reserve’ that was created out here in the New Mexico desert after people in several parts of the U.S. refused to die. I say this because it’s the best way I can think of to put it. People, who by all accounts should have been dead, weren’t. They kept walking. Some even kept talking. At first they didn’t do much else. They just kind of staggered around harmlessly, going about their business or least trying to. As you can imagine, this caused quite a bit of confusion and fear wherever it took place. There didn’t seem to be any real danger, so a full on “Zombie Movie” style war against the dead seemed to be a little cruel and unusual. They were people after all, and like I said, they didn’t bother anybody.
At first.
Seems it didn’t take long to become that “Zombie Movie” in quite a few areas around the country and the world. Not a huge Apocalypse type deal, we’re talking thousands not millions, but the dead did begin to viciously attack and eat the living. They even attacked each other on occasion. Bites, scratches, or any exchange of bodily fluid from the undead would kill the living and turn them into, well, Zombies. Seemed like the longer one of them was around, the angrier and more dangerous he or she would get. So the best way to handle them was early on, as soon as possible after reanimation. They’d comply with being moved or confined fairly easily then. That ease of handling, coupled with the fact that the incidents of infection were few and far between, allowed most of the civilized world to control this whole new way of death to some degree. Sure there continued to be ‘incidents’, but these were under control for the most part. The U.S. and the entire Western Hemisphere, Western Europe, Eastern China, Japan, and Australia are all safe and controlled. At least for now. But there are no flights in or out of Africa at all anymore. Same with Eastern Europe and most of Asia. The problem is too widespread and dangerous there. At least that’s what they tell us.
But how do you answer the big question? What do we do with the undead? Many folks, including yours truly, viewed them as sick, mentally incapacitated victims of whatever man or God-made malady that had befallen them. Couldn’t just put them down now could you? That works fine in fiction, but in real life people have rights even if they don’t have a true heart beat. And they did need to be studied, because no one had yet figured out why the hell they were still walking. Complete mystery. Theories included a viral infection, religious repercussions, and even mass hysteria. As if people were just imagining the dead walking? Not a chance. It was real and people were scared, amazed, and interested in the undead. And in this world fear, amazement, and interest equals opportunity.
So ‘ZOMBIE WORLD, Your Ultimate Vacation Destination’ was born.
Some corporation thought up the idea to capture and herd them all into reserves and parks and charge admission so people could see real ‘live’ Zombies. The money taken in would go to researching the cause and the cure of the outbreak right there in labs at the parks. ‘Come and make your vacation something spectacular, something you’ll remember, something AMAZING’ read the ads for the park. Hell, I was intrigued and thought about it a lot. Several different packages were available, from a short stroll through the park on a raised protected path right up to riding in a fortified bus through the ‘middle of the insanity’. I was intrigued and started wondering if there was a way for me to write a story on these undead people and how they ‘lived’. But a view from a bus didn’t seem to be enough to really understand them and write a proper story. Then one day it just hit me after my girlfriend Carrie went off to work one morning. I would live amongst the undead, you know, like that Monkey Lady. She lived alongside the monkeys and they recognized her as one of their own. I could do that with the ghouls of ZOMBIE WORLD. I could act like them and keep a journal of what went on. Death Perception seemed like a great title so I went with it. I would live with them, see how they reacted with one another, and learn what was going on in their ranks. My publisher, Nick Carroll, and I contacted them and I got the letter of acceptance about a month ago.
So here I am, waiting for my ‘ride’ to the park to come get me. They had some people come by a few days ago and talk to me about the whole deal and how it would go down. Where I’d be staying, how they’d take me there, and what I would need. Also the steps I needed to take to disinfect and prep myself for the adventure. They don’t want any strange smells or infectants on me, for my own safety. Evidently the park residents attack what smells too much like the living, or even the dead at times, so it’s best to be completely sterilized. They have an amazing sense of smell. To make sure I did everything correctly, they had a couple of guys come out and get me ready this morning. Real top notch folks they are, and I appreciate all the help. They really make me feel safe.
To prepare to journal my activities once I arrive, I recently started practicing my long hand. Doesn’t seem practical to write my journal any other way then by hand, so I’m recording any ideas I have now to get used to writing again. Not as easy a task as I thought it would be. All these years of typing must’ve really done a number on my penmanship; I mean I hardly write at all anymore. I type everything now, but who doesn’t? Not sure when they’re going to be here so I just sit here in my chair and wait, writing and catching up on my daytime TV. Not many game shows or talk shows on anymore, but a shit load of celebrity news and court TV. I start thinking about how I watched old sitcoms as a kid when I was home from school and hunt for them now. Nothing. No matter, I’m ready to go and they are probably coming soon. With that there’s a knock on the door and my publisher, Nick, walks in before I have a chance to get up and let him in. He rarely waits for me to answer the door. The familiarity is comforting, and a bit annoying, but he’s my best friend.
“James it’s time to hit the road,” he says with his usual energetic voice. “I hear you’ve done the disinfecting procedures with the gentlemen that came earlier, so are you ready?” I nod and smile.
“Where’s Carrie?” I ask. I hadn’t seen my girlfriend since I signed up for the story. She thinks it’s risky and stupid and hasn’t spoken to me in weeks.
“Carrie couldn’t make it, James, we talked about that. She sends her love though,” Nick answers. It’s probably best she didn’t come; I hate to see her cry. Besides, I had told her I wanted to do this alone. I have to, or it won’t work out right.
“Let’s go,” I say as the park folks walk me out to the black SUV with Nick. We get in and begin to move.
“Now James,” Nick begins. “This is going to be like nothing you’ve ever done. You need to watch out for yourself, some of these undead bastards are dangerous. You have to blend in and not cause any trouble. That’s the best way to survive. Don’t do anything to attract attention.”
“I know. I have it under control.” I assure him.
I look out the window and notice all the cars parked in the lots and think a while about all the people that must vacation here at the park. It wasn’t a very long ride to get here since I live fairly close. I love it in the South-western U.S. and I’ve lived here since I was young. The desert nights are great for writing and pretty much anything else. We get out of the car and walk up the ramp into the facility. Nick and I say our goodbyes and he tells me again to be careful. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I can’t control myself. I break the rules and give him a long embrace.
“Separate them before he’s contaminated!” One man shouts. “We can’t risk contamination!” As they pull us apart I realize I shouldn’t have done that. I say goodbye to Nick and I’m escorted in to begin processing. Evidently my contact with Nick contaminated me enough to require me to be disinfected and prepped again. Like I said, too many different smells are
bad, and Nick can wear some cologne. My escorts are already in Hazmat suits so they won’t contaminate me. I think hard about what I’m going to do, but I was told the dangers and I’m willing to take the chances. The opportunity to write this story is literally the chance of a lifetime.
I’m taken into a room and strip down to shower. A much more thorough cleaning than I had than at home. The water is hot and smells like a hospital at first, but then like nothing. A complete absence of odour. Amazing. I’m then given a few shots in the arm and abdomen, no doubt to protect me as much as possible from the park’s inhabitants. I start to feel anxious and excited as I’m walked down the ramp into the park.
“God be with you,” one of the escorts says as they close and lock the double doors of the gate behind me.
I’m in.
I have my journal, some food and water, and my iPod in a backpack. Lots of the undead still carry personal possessions so that shouldn’t give me away as being alive. I mimic the shuffling walk so common in the Infected, and I seem to blend in well. They did a great job of prepping me. I scan around and see a group of undead milling about what looks to be a mock-up of a convenience store. I decide to approach them slowly to see how they react. Before I can get close they all turn and look at me in unison, about twelve of them. They start toward me, sniffing the air through their nostrils and also breathing it in through their mouths. As if they’re smelling and tasting it. But I don’t run. If I do, they may give chase and even though they are fairly slow I have to sleep sometime. From what I’ve heard they don’t give up, ever. And I’ve also heard they have a way of communication that would have other undead on me from all directions in no time. So I remain still, and even stare at them as they stare at me.
They get to within a few yards and break off their advance. As they turn and walk away one or two look back suspiciously. Still they continue to walk away. I guess I’m assimilating! I am passing as one of them! I follow a few into the convenience store to see what’s going on. I imagine no living person has been in there since it was constructed, and I’m making mental notes to write later. I don’t want to take out the journal and write so soon after being accepted as one of their own, it may give me away. As I enter the store, the smell of rotting flesh is strong, but there is another smell I can’t quite place. Strange, it’s almost pleasant. They all seem to be sharing a pig that, from the looks of the blood trail, they dragged in here. I heard that they would eat meat other than human at times, but didn’t know what to believe. The fact that they eat us just seems so horrifying, even after all the recent movies and documentaries I’d seen on the subject.
The next thought I have is one I had hoped to avoid. ALL the Zombies are feasting on the pig. If I did not, wouldn’t I be noticed? Perhaps I’d join in and merely rub some about my face. I had been practicing in my apartment by eating raw meat to prepare myself, and as disgusting as it was I managed to keep it down. I thrust my way into the pack and seem to be recognized as one of them again. I pull some of the flesh from the pig and smear it on my face pretending to eat. It was then I noticed that this is not a pig at all but the remains of two human beings. Tourists perhaps, but that only occupies my brain enough to allow me to vomit all over the kill. Many of the others are doing the same, even the ones who look to have been here a great while. Perhaps it is as disgusting to them as it is to me? I immediately spit out what’s left in my mouth, but continue to vomit. I must write about this later. My thoughts move to wonder where these human entrées came from. Were they actually unlucky tourists? Zombies themselves perhaps? Or maybe corpses given to the undead to eat as part of a deal the park may have with a local morgue? The latter seemed very unlikely, but not totally improbable.
I now need to find myself a ‘home’ for the next few days. The park is set up like a city, so there are plenty of abandoned building replicas, bridges, old cars … Plenty of places to lay claim to. After a short search I find a place by a creek under a foot bridge and sit down for the night. I’m not tired so I decide to log my journal.
Day 1: Assimilated into the park well after lengthy in-processing. I have been accepted as one of the Zombies and will continue to take steps to ensure I remain in their graces including group meals, gatherings, and ‘acting the part’. There seems to be a semblance of a society here and my next step is to investigate the particulars of it. I joined in a feeding on what I thought was a pig, but turned out to be two humans. Although I did get quite sick, I was not discovered. It was a highly unpleasant experience, and I continue to feel extremely ill.
I keep writing as it gets dark. The noises from the undead seem to be amplified in the desert night air. It’s quite cold but I’m comfortable and I write through the night. I do get up a few times and walk around in an attempt to make myself tired enough to go to sleep. I shuffle, in true undead style, all over the park and witness its grotesque and pitiful inhabitants going about their routines. Many act as they did when they were alive. I see three men in a circle feebly kicking an old red ball to each other. Some women seemingly admire each other’s clothing. Many of them even smile. Most, however, just scream and scratch at walls and the ground completely mad. I look up and see the lit walkways with the park’s guests looking down at us. Perhaps thinking that it could just as easily be them down here … Perhaps not …
As the sun rises I’m sitting under my bridge by the creek writing. It makes me feel comfortable to do what I love. I have a strong desire to shut out the world and ‘not look up from the page’ as it were. My writing and I, forever … It seems more possible every minute I’m here. I begin to hear voices and realize I’ve picked a spot near where visitors come to view the undead. The voices are garbled at first but soon become quite clear. I can see the people as they approach, and I can smell them as well. I can smell their cologne, their perfume, their sweat …
I can smell their warm blood.
“Hey I know that dude!” One voice rings out over the rest. “Shit that’s James Christian the author! He’s a freakin’ Zombie? No way!”
“Yeah it says here in the program that he killed and ate his girlfriend, that actress Carrie Cassidy, after he turned! Then he attacked and killed his publisher after he brought him here!” The other onlooker exclaims. “Wait, is he trying to write in that notebook? I gotta get a pic of this! It says here they try and hold onto what they loved in their lives.”
I hear them and see their gawking faces. How I wish the bridge and wall between us weren’t so high so I could taste their flesh. Fully aware, I look down at my journal. Torn, blood-scratched pages, nearly a hundred, turn in the breeze. Not a legible word to be found on any of them. It was now going to be impossible to fool myself any longer. The mind is a powerful tool, and you can make yourself believe anything really. But this charade may be over. I kept it alive as Nick and those men took me out of my apartment to bring me here. How long have I been dead? I really don’t know. The horrified looks from Nick and Carrie began weeks ago, just after I was bitten by the woman I thought was delivering my Chinese food. They tried so hard to keep me hidden in my apartment. Hoping I would stay docile. Hoping a cure would be found. I guess after killing and partially devouring Carrie that morning something had to be done with me. I enjoyed that immensely, but miss her terribly. When it did come time to be moved, Nick even wrote me that letter to make it easier on me. It must have been him; I knew deep down it wasn’t from the ZOMBIE WORLD Director. Nick fooled me into believing the story, out of love. And how did I repay him? By taking a large bite out of his neck in the receiving room as he dropped me off and said goodbye. But I truly feel no remorse … They kept me too long. It’s their fault not mine. I’m ill damn it! Sick to death literally! It was THEIR fault!
Yet somehow I managed to push all that out of my mind. To stay sane? Perhaps. Will I be able to do it again? There’s no way of knowing, but I hope I can. It’s blissful not to know. No matter now, as I’m likely about to continue the descent into uncontrolled madness that all of us eventual
ly seem to succumb to. I’m as dead as any of the other poor souls here in ZOMBIE WORLD. I look up at my two fans taking pictures of me and talking to each other. I smell the air and I can almost taste their sweet flesh. I keep hoping somehow they slip and fall over the bridge and into my cold lifeless arms. The thought of tearing into their soft abdomens causes me to shriek at them long and loud. Loud enough to make them step back in fear, angry enough to make me smile a broad, toothy, smile.
I’m so very hungry, but I must stay on task. I must continue my writing. I’ll block them out; I’ll block them all out and work on my journal. Yes, I’m a writer after all, and I do have this journal to complete documenting my time here. My writing is all I have when push comes to shove. I’m a writer. A writer of books.
“Look he’s tryin’ to write again!” The familiar voice shouted. “He’s just scratchin’ at the paper. I think he believes he is writing. Poor bastard. Poor undead bastard …”
I hear them and laugh quietly at the fact that they are taken in by my ruse. I’m a writer and an actor it seems. I’m doing a story, a story that needs to be completed. I’ll shut them out, I’ll shut everything out, and journal it all.
I’ll write …
Day 2: I was viewed by park spectators today and even seemed to fool them into thinking I was a Zombie. They took pictures, amazed at how I acted and looked. How much more amazed they’ll be when they read this book! I’ll walk the grounds today and continue to gather entries. This opportunity is great and I need to stay on point to make the most of it. Once my time is up Nick and Carrie will come back for me and I can finish the book at home. I miss them both so much. Until then I’ll be a ‘card carrying’ resident of ZOMBIE WORLD.
Holiday of the Dead Page 24
