I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  “Jacob,” I cried out into the bottomless pit of my lover. The cry echoed on in a spiral of chaos.

  “Bethany.” The voice of Jacob shifted from that of a monster to that of a man.

  As I traveled down Jacob’s hot, sulfuric gullet, the peristaltic vibrations threatened to tear me apart.

  It was my turn. I zombie I.

  I screamed at full force, my vocal cords threatening an existential exit from my being. As my voice grew in pitch and volume, Jacob’s bones cracked and his flesh tore. Dark, viscous blood splashed in every direction and offal spilled over the dry, cracked earth.

  Carefully, I stepped from Jacob’s undone form, covered in the gore of my one-time lover, and dropped to my knees. With another primal scream, I let my hatred of the moment fly. As the sound echoed off the surrounding nothingness, the ground beneath me quaked and a voice called down from the heavens, “Bethany.”

  Flames licked at my flesh to fry the remains of Jacob, to cleanse me of the past.

  “I’m not ready to forget!” I shouted.

  Again the disembodied voice called out, “Bethany.”

  My eyes shot open. Hovering above me, Jamal looked down, his gleaming white smile a warm welcome back.

  “You were screaming to wake the undead,” Jamal whispered.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Who gives a shit, B? It’s the apocalypse. Time is irrelevant.”

  I punched him in the shoulder, a bit harder than I intended. Jamal’s inner geek came out to play and he winced.

  “Toughen up, Gladys, it’s the apocalypse,” I teased. “And the relevancy of time is irrelevant when you have a child. Jacob needs to be fed.”

  Jamal grinned and kissed my forehead. “Already taken care of, sexy pants. Your boy has a full tummy, a clean diaper, and is busy dreaming of…whatever it is babies dream of.” He dropped onto his back, hands clasped behind his head. “I wonder what babies dream about?”

  I rolled over, kissed Jamal’s full, warm lips, and said, “Good night, sweet prince.”

  “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” Jamal finished the quote and wrapped a comforting arm around me as I drifted off.

  *

  Morning comes fast and furious. For a hacker who’d spent most of her life hovering over keyboards in the middle of the night, rising and shining as the sun greeted the horizon was a concept conceived by the man to repress the human soul and spirit.

  Yet here I was, awake, just as the sun broke across the horizon.

  That meant but one thing and one thing only…

  “Coffee for my darling,” Jamal’s too-cheerful voice sang out.

  “How do you do it, Jamal?”

  “You mean not constantly proclaim my love for you or proselytize my own brilliance?”

  I turned and smirked hard at him. “I mean, be so cheerful in the morning.”

  “Oh, that, yeah,” Jamal drew out the last word as if his brain were caught in an infinite loop. He broke free from the sonic highway and shook his head. “I have no idea. However, today is something extra special.”

  “You lost me, Jamal. Today is just like every day in the apocalypse.”

  The grin that spread wide across his face was reserved only for certain occasions─usually when he’s managed to debug the in-debuggable or hack the unhackable. “Follow me,” Jamal said, his voice oozing confidence.

  Jamal led me to the front exit of the house. He made short shrift of unlocking the various deadbolts, chains, and bars that stopped the horde from playing a rousing game of Undead Mary Kay. Once the last chain was free of its capture plat, he twisted the knob and flung the door open.

  “Holy crap, Jamal,” I squealed. “Where did you find them?”

  Parked on the driveway were two matching bicycles─robin’s egg blue paint and chrome gleaming in the desert sun.

  “Oddly enough, at a bike shop─one of the few stores that hadn’t been touched.”

  “What does that say?” I asked.

  “That even in the apocalypse, Americans are lazy slobs who’d rather siphon gas than tool around in what is probably the single most logical form of transportation for the new world order.”

  I practically skipped to the driveway and flung a leg over my new best friend. When I shot a glance back to Jamal, he knew exactly what was racing through my mind. He held up a finger, disappeared into the house, and returned with two helmets and two backpacks in hand.

  “You think I’m gonna let you see me with helmet hair? Think again.”

  Jamal thrust the helmet into my arms and then handed over my trusty bug-out pack. Working side by side with the Zombie Response Team ensured we were always prepared. “You think I’m going to let the single most important brain on the planet crack open when she realizes it’s been decades since she last rode a bike and takes a wicked digger into the pavement?”

  “Fine,” I hissed.

  “Fine,” Jamal returned the hiss.

  “Okay,” I answered.

  “Good,” Jamal punctuated the moment with a sweet smile.

  “Let’s roll,” I said, eyes wide and full of childish yearnings.

  The hot, dry air of Utah danced over my skin. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt alive. The apocalypse took a back seat to an isolated fragment of joy. The only thing that mattered was the moment and it was glorious.

  “Wheeeee!” I cried.

  “Did you just say ‘wheeeee’?” Jamal demanded.

  “I did not and you have no proof otherwise,” I answered. “But if I did, it would have sounded like this,” I added and then repeated the youthful cry.

  We picked up speed and took a left at the first main intersection in our path.

  Jamal drew in close and whispered, “These bikes are perfect for scouting trips. Silent as a ninja fart.”

  I let go of the handlebars and called out, “Look at me, mom!”

  Jamal sent up a silencing finger and then pointed ahead. A cloud of gray-black smoke billowed into the air just a few blocks away. “Should we check it out?” Jamal asked.

  I slammed on my brakes and placed a foot down as the bike came to a stop. I dug into my pack and retrieved a small set of military-grade binoculars. I pulled the ‘nocs out of their case and pressed the cups to my eyes. The field of vision was a blur. I twisted the focus until all became clear─too clear, actually.

  At the next major intersection, a group of Moaners had been chained together and set ablaze. Flames licked at the bubbling and sloughing flesh. Nearby, in a parking lot, a pair of young men, clad in jean shorts, too-tight tee shirts, and ball caps, pointed, laughed, and danced about.

  “Son of a bitch,”I whispered.

  “What is it, B?”

  “Thelemites,” I answered, drawing from our past in college.

  “Fuck,” hissed Jamal.

  Back in school, Jamal and I labeled anyone who favored pleasure over all things Thelemites, after Crowley’s Thelema. They were near the bottom of the food chain in our book. We knew it was an overly simplistic view of Crowley’s “religion“, but it was our world and we made the rules.

  Once the Mengele Virus hit, it seemed those same people devolved into a much more radicalized version of themselves. Their very existence proved the zombie wasn’t the most revolting member of society. The bastards spent their time finding new and disgusting ways to enjoy the apocalypse. The world had become their playground and thrill their commodity─a Thelemite was a hedonist’s hedonist.

  “Do what thou wilt,” Jamal started.

  “…shall be the whole of the law,” I finished the Crowley quote.

  “Are you sure?” Jamal asked.

  I wasn’t. This could be a simple case of profiling─which would be wrong, apocalypse or not. But the enthusiasm surrounding the undead burning gave me cause for concern. Everyone was in the right to behead, shoot, burn, and otherwise maim the horde at large. But cheering on the Grim Reaper with such abandon fell into the wheelhouse of the
se bastards.

  “What do we do, Bethany?”

  Since Jacob’s death, I’d only really considered taking the lives of a small, very select, group of living humans─the Zero Day Collective. As more and more pockets of Thelemites popped up, my moral compass was shifting to include a larger swatch of the living.

  “We’re not prepared for a fight like this,” I whispered. “But we can’t just let this go.” I dropped the binoculars into my bag and turned to Jamal. “What we do is follow them. Once we know where they’re camping, we can circle the wagons and come up with a plan. Sharing New Salt Lake City with the undead is one thing. Having those creeps in our corner of existence? No thanks.”

  The chained Moaners were little more than a pile of charred chunk and bone. The two strangers lost interest and meandered away from the scene. “We’re following them. Come on, Jamal.”

  I rolled my bike forward until I was a body in motion. I planted my feet on the pedals and gave the drive train enough torque to keep me at a safe distance.

  “What do we do if they spot us, B?”

  The answer for that question was nowhere to be found. Logic would dictate we turn our bikes one hundred and eighty degrees and ride ‘em like we stole ‘em. Unfortunately, the second the joy-riding pricks caught sight of us, they wouldn’t stop hunting until they had us chained up and roasting.

  “Cannibalism,” I heard Jamal whisper.

  “Are you in my mind again, Jamal?”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “Touché, my friend.” I replied.

  Ahead, a crashing sound yanked me back to reality. The Thelemites parquored themselves onto a roof and were pelting the ground below with anything they could get their meaty hands on.

  “Moaners?” I asked.

  “No idea,” Jamal replied.

  I took off at top speed toward an alley that wound its way around the block and near to the curious fight.

  “Come on, motherfuckers!” one of the Thelemites shouted down.

  I turned a corner…and immediately wished I hadn’t. The entire block was wall-to-wall undead.

  “Fuck.” Jamal punched down on his bike’s pedal, sending him into a wheelie and then onto his back.

  I rushed to help Jamal back up. He insisted he was fine.

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” I said, defeated.

  “Are you kidding? This is a must-do, Bethany. You know that. We have to collect as much data on this as possible.”

  “You’re good, Jamal. You knew you’d have me at the ‘d’ word.”

  One of the Thelemites howled into the wind as he beat his chest. As the second joined in on the cacophony, both leaped from the roof of the building into the fray.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jamal hissed. “They’re…” his voice trailed off into a bottomless pit of silence.

  The two men had willingly dropped into the group of Moaners, only to try and fight their way out.

  “This isn’t happening,” added Jamal.

  “Yes, my love, it is happening. This is only the next evolutionary step from what we were before the virus bent us over and thrust deep into our withering hearts.”

  Jamal raised an eyebrow and said, “Nice one, Heathcliff.”

  I shot a confused glance his way.

  “Wuthering Heights. Withering hearts?” Jamal pointed out.

  The joke fell with a thud as we stared on in shock at what unfolded before us. The rising moan of the zombies rattled the already-shattered glass in the area. I could feel the sound in my gut, see its vibration dance across my clothes. I spoke with a voice cracked with dread. “The way I see this…we have two choices: stay and investigate or tuck tails between legs and haul ass.”

  Jamal continued brawl-gawking and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’m okay with.”

  Great.

  Sometimes being a leader had its drawbacks. This was one such time. If we were to survive in New Salt Lake City, we had to know the place, own the place. All things being equal, I had no desire to see my life drained away by some idiot tweaker seeking the next big thrill.

  Or a Moaner looking for its next big meal.

  Just as I was about to spin off on my new ride, one of the Thelemites shouted to the great beyond, broke free from the pile of death, and sprinted away. I held my breath, waiting for the second piece of living, breathing stupid to peel himself from the mass.

  I waited. And wondered.

  “What the fuck, Jamal?” I whispered.

  The Moaners fell silent. They stood and swayed in that same damnable rhythm I’d seen far too many times. In the center of the circle of doom, a red smear was all the remained of the tweaker.

  “Do what thou wilt,” Jamal said under his breath.

  “Come on, J-man, we’re still on a mission.”

  “From God?”

  I shook my head. “Nice try, Elwood.”

  We pedaled away from the carnage, the sound of the Moaners quickly fading in the distance.

  “I had a dream last night…about Jacob,” I tossed off the side to Jamal.

  “Not another dream about undead dolls ripping you to pieces, I hope. That still gives me the creeps,” Jamal confessed.

  “Not about baby Jacob,” I started.

  “Oh,” Jamal said, his voice laced with curiosity.

  “Yeah. The holy grail of Jacobs. I shot him again,” I said, my voice caving to the weight of regret, of the chiasmus that was I zombie I. The great and secret sorrow that was love found and demolished. I took a deep breath and said, “And then we switched places. It was my turn to become the beast.”

  Jamal looked my way. “You dream in some weird shade of David Lynchian blue, my dear. I cannot imagine what it must be like inside your mind. Not for lack of trying,” Jamal teased. “You know I’d give anything to hack the brain of the great one.”

  “Holy mother of Perl.” I brought my bike to a sliding stop and pointed toward what I’d hoped would be our own personal Jesus.

  When Jamal spotted the electronics store, his scream ventured near schoolgirl range before he raced his bike to the front door and hopped off. I reached him just before he grabbed the handle of the entrance. I jumped off my bike and slapped his hand away. He shot me a glance and mouthed What?

  Without saying a word, I sidestepped to the nearest window and peered through the dirty, cracked glass. I turned back to Jamal, my eyelids stretched as wide open as possible.

  “The store is intact,” I whispered. “Everything is still there…and not a Moaner in sight.”

  “Ho-lee-shit,” Jamal responded in kind. “Did we just hit the motherload or what?”

  I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. As soon as I did, regret washed through my system.

  “Fuck,” Jamal shouted as the alarm sang out its siren song to draw the attention of every undead ghoul in the neighborhood. “What do we do?”

  “We get the hell out of Dodge, that’s what we do,” I replied.

  “But the goods!” Jamal pointed into the building. “There’s so much.”

  I snatched Jamal’s hand from the doorway and yanked him toward me…hard. “We can come back. Now that we know there’s an alarm…”

  It was Jamal’s turn to go wide-eyed. “No. That alarm won’t STFU until it’s disarmed. We run off, it’ll call a legion of the damned to this area. Every fucking Moaner and Screamer in New Salt Lake City will swarm to our little haven.”

  Without warning, Jamal disappeared inside the store. I had no choice but to follow suit.

  “My first question is this…how in the hell is the alarm going off?” I asked, and then flipped a light switch. Nothing. “The entire block is without power.”

  “A lot of times stores will run their alarms off an emergency power sub-grid, a generator, or even solar. Since this is a desert town, solar would be my guess. As long as there’s sun, this alarm will continue calling the beasts to the feast.”

  Jamal fell silent as he stared at the alarm panel. />
  “That’s─” I started, but was silenced by the palm of Jamal’s hand.

  He continued staring.

  I pointed to the panel and said, “Jamal.”

  He hissed at me for silence.

  Outside, the lowing of undead cattle called out to inform us they were near. In the distance, a Screamer’s bestial roar cut through the chorus of moans.

  “Jamal, if we don’t─” I began.

  “B, if I don’t figure out this…”

  I bumped Jamal out of the way and tapped out the code 09876. The alarm fell silent.

  “How did you─?” It was Jamal’s turn to be bug-eyed.

  “It’s the default code for that model. Do you know how few people change the default security code of a device?” I asked.

  “Thirty-two percent,” Jamal answered. “So you figured it was best to chance it, since the police showing up would actually be a big bonus.”

  Our conversation came to a brief halt as I listened for signs of the oncoming apocalypse. The moans, groans, and shrieks fell silent. The world had effectively and momentarily ceased.

  Jamal broke the beautiful moment with a squeal of delight. “I haven’t been this excited since I watched you take down that arrogant prick, ColdFire, back in grad school. That was righteous, but this…this is pure heaven.”

  He was right. Surrounding us, in a Technicolor display of total geek porn was nearly every type of electronic device, toy, circuit, and tool you could imagine─all of it still blister-packed and ready to walk out of the store.

  “What do we take first?” asked Jamal.

  “Nothing,” I answered. “Our packs are already full. We need to locate pull-behind trailers for the bikes and return to take it all.”

  “Are you serious, B?” Jamal faced me, arms folded over his chest. “What if someone else stakes a claim on this gold mine?”

  He was right, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. I nodded and said, “Okay, but we need to figure out…”

  Before I could finish my thought, Jamal’s engineer switch flipped and he buzzed to the register. When he turned back to me, he held up two wire baskets with an impish grin splattered across his face.

  “I knew there was a reason I loved you, Jamal.”

  He handed me a basket and said, “You focus on energy, I’ll work on circuitry.”