Undead Worlds 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Anthology

by Authors, Various

  The CEO’s gaze held steady, then relaxed as she moved her chair under her desk and picked up a stack of papers. “Very well. These are the forms you’ll need to file with the U.C.A. to be properly licensed and then you can begin your studies of my archives. You will be an independent company but you will use Nitsau Corporation assets and continue to be paid as security guards by us. To be clear,” she paused, looking them both hard in the eyes one at a time, smiling as Judas averted his eyes from her gaze, “you work for me. Understand?”

  “Yes,” they both answered.

  “Good. You’ll find everything you need in warehouse nine. There’s a loft in the back where you'll find my research archives. Start there. The main warehouse is stocked with equipment and weapons for your use. You’ll have everything you could need. I’ll be assigning one of my engineers to train you and help you with any needed modifications.” She thrust the papers forward.

  Judas stepped forward, clamping onto the forms. “Thank you, Natasha.”

  Dr. Nitsau’s lips tightened into a thin line and her hand clamped onto the papers, refusing to let them into Judas’s grasp. “No.” Her dark eyes pierced into his. “It’s Dr. Nitsau, always. Ma’am is also acceptable.” Her eye’s continued to bore into him. “Understand?”

  Judas’s face reddened, sweat dripping from his brow. “Y-yes, ma’am.” He stumbled back as she released the papers into his grip.

  “Ma’am, may I ask what happened last week?” Jonah asked her.

  Her eye’s darkened. “Always with the questions, hmm, Mr. Zee?” She didn’t wait for an answer but asked another question. “Why?”

  He put his hands behind his back and stood taller. Judas noted his posture and assumed the same position. “To better understand the things we might encounter.”

  She smiled at his posture and her eyes softened. “You may.”

  “Thank you,” Jonah nodded in acknowledgment. “What happened there and how did it get out of control?”

  “Hmm,” her lips squeezed together, and she brought her hands in front of her, forming a steeple. “An experiment that went too far.”

  “Too far?” Jonah nodded, brow furrowing. “How far was it supposed to go? Everyone in there but you was dead.”

  “We were testing a new serum on a few test subjects. The technician in charge didn’t make sure the subject was secure before starting. One of them got free and my former bodyguards failed to keep the situation contained.”

  Jonah’s forehead wrinkled even further. “And this was an anti-aging serum?”

  Dr. Nitsau opened a side drawer on her desk, pulling from it a small silver case and a long black tube. She opened the case revealing a half-dozen slender cigarettes, took one out, stuck it in the holder, held it to her lips and lit it. After a long pull, she blew the smoke out directly at Jonah.

  “I run a pharmaceutical ‘research’ company. We have many trials going on, treatments, antibiotics, vaccines, etc. Some of which overlap with others. So, yes, anti-aging.”

  Jonah breathed in the smoke as it wafted over him. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for clarifying. You mentioned vaccines. Since collecting the undead for you will be rather dangerous, is there a zombie vaccine we should receive?”

  Dr. Nitsau let out a long laugh. “That is an excellent question to ask me, Mr. Zee. The first question that hasn’t made me reconsider offering you this position. The answer is complicated. We have some experimental vaccines that have shown potential in lab animals, however, there are many causes of zombification as you will see when you study my record on the subject. My research has shown there isn’t likely a singular vaccine. It’s similar to the flu virus, there are thousands of strains and quite possibly it’s the same with zombies. While the flu is always a virus, some causes of zombification are not and they are impossible to prevent but I’m hopeful with you and your brother’s work,” she glanced at Judas who beamed at the mention, “we’ll have plenty of new subjects from which to further our exploration into the possibilities.”

  Jonah nodded again. “Ok. So bringing you zombies from different outbreaks will help you develop a better vaccine?”

  Another long slow puff. “Yes, among other things.” She set the cigarette and holder on her desk. “Now boys, enough with the Q and A. You’ve got homework to do.”

  II. Edja-Macation

  The brothers held their tongues until they left the lab building and were out of earshot of other Nitsau Corporation employees.

  Judas put a big wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth and looked at his older brother, who chewed on his lower lip, brow furrowed in deep concentration. “What’s the matter, bro?” he spat a black gooey stream onto the concrete.

  Jonah glanced at him while pulling a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it. He took a few puffs and blew them out before answering. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right about this job.” He took a long puff. “No, not the job, her. Dr. Nitsau.” He looked at his brother as they walked past the first of the many generic looking warehouse buildings on the property.

  “What?” Judas looked up at him, his head cocked to the right and his forehead scrunched. “She’s eccentric and a little stern but I kinda like that. Plus, she’s hot, rich and owns her own company. What’s wrong with that?”

  Jonah waved his cigar around in front of him. “No. It’s not those things. It’s her attitude. She’s so… cold. All those people died in her lab last week and she doesn’t seem to care.”

  “Scientists can be strange,” Judas said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Jonah huffed. “And how many scientists do you know Judas?”

  Judas spat, his face souring. “None, but the professor on Gilligan’s Island was kind of a strange guy.”

  “Gilligan! Really, Judas?” Jonah took his hat off and smacked his brother on the head. “That’s as close to Gilligan as this situation is. You can’t base your views on the world off of what you’ve seen on television shows.”

  Judas shrank away, raising his arms. “Sorry, bro. I just don’t think she’s that bad.”

  Jonah shook his head. “You’re just smitten.”

  Judas smiled. “I’m okay with that.”

  They came to a stop outside building number nine.

  “We’re here.” Jonah put his cigar out on the concrete and opened the door to a blast of music. Nirvana’s ‘All Apologies’ played from deep in the rear of the building. The warehouse was vast, with a huge high ceiling running all the way to a loft section they could only partially see at the back.

  Four large, black, unmarked BMW transport vans stood in a line down the center of the building. Racks and locked cabinets filled with various weapons, ammo, and other implements lined the walls. They sauntered past the vans to where the music originated. A man with a mass of wavy red hair pulled back in a ponytail to his waist, sat at a workbench. His head banging to the music as he cranked a wrench, fastening a long silver tube into place on a half-finished, multi-barrel gun.

  Tools and parts littered his workbench, including blades of different sizes and bullets of various gauges. Mounted on the wall above the workbench stood three customized guitars, the likes of which the brothers hadn't seen before. Giant metal sprockets and weird tubes speaking of steampunk designs adorned them.

  The brothers watched him work in silence. His focused intensity as he tightened bolts and moved to put another barrel into place, all while rocking out, was something to behold. He wore blue jeans and a sleeveless denim jacket, both stained with spots of grease.

  Not wanting to startle him and interrupt his work, Jonah waited until a pause between songs and then coughed. “Excuse me, Sir?”

  The man continued working. The next song blasted from the speakers mounted on either side of the workbench. Jonah looked at Judas, raising his eyebrows. Judas shrugged. Jonah stepped to the right and noticed in addition to the loud music, he also wore earbuds. Jonah waved his hands in the air to get the man’s attention until he tilted his head to the left
and peered back.

  He wore round-rimmed glasses with orange-tinted lenses over the regular ones that hung at the tip of his nose. He flipped them up, then used his thumb and pointer finger to smooth out the long red whiskers of his greying horseshoe mustache.

  The man reached into a pocket, pulled out an iPod and hit pause, then pressed a button on a computer behind the giant gun he was working on, bringing Kurt Cobain’s grunging vocals to a halt. He took in both brothers and then held out a hand.

  “You must be the Zee brothers. I’m Hank. The boss sent me an email saying she’d found someone to take on this particular project of hers. Welcome aboard.”

  “Thanks,” Jonah took his hand. “I’m Jonah, this is my brother, Judas.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m glad to have some company around here. It’s been a while since the last ones.”

  “Why’d you have the headphones in and the stereo blasting?” Judas asked.

  Hank shrugged. “Loud music keeps people from coming in and asking me to come work on something for them. Plus, when I’m creating something like this beautiful beast of a gun I love the sounds of Beethoven.” He wiggled the earbuds in his fingers.

  Jonah smiled at Hank's taste in music. “What do you mean, ‘the last ones’?”

  Hank looked him square in the eyes. “This isn’t a cupcake kinda job, boy. It’s dangerous. Fuck up and it means your life.” He looked at them both and smiled. “That’s what I’m here for though. I’m in charge of keeping you safe. Arming and armoring you so that when you go out on a job, you come back. More importantly, that you come back with what the doctor ordered.” He laughed, picked up a washcloth off the bench and ran it along one of the barrels, wiping away an oily smudge.

  “What is that you’re building?” Judas asked.

  “This?” Hank beamed. “Just something I’m making to pass the time. I call her Dee-Dee. It’s a hundred caliber machine gun, something I’m building just in case that big z-day finally happens. It’ll turn a horde of zombies, or just about anything, into Swiss cheese with the pull of the trigger. Of course, I’ve got to find something to mount it on. I’m not sure the good doctor will let me put it on one of her company vehicles.”

  “Damn,” Judas said. “That’s impressive. Why Dee-Dee?”

  “It’s short for Death Dealer.”

  “I bet,” Judas chuckled and reached out to touch the gun.

  Hank’s hand flew up and smacked it away. “Not now boy. You’ve got some edja-macation to get to before you get to play with the toys. Stairs are over there.” He pointed to the right where a wooden staircase led up to the office loft above his workshop.

  The brothers entered the room and found stacks of papers, pictures, books and a few computers.

  “Where do we even start?” Judas asked.

  Jonah picked up a stack from the nearest pile with a shrug. “Here’s good.”

  Days later, Jonah flipped through a binder looking at images of different zombies and their causes.

  Judas stared at the wall, blinking.

  “Wow. It says here,” Jonah turned the page toward his brother, “that there are voodoo curses and black magic spells that can turn people into zombies. There’s even a handwritten note from Dr. Nitsau that no vaccines are likely to prevent it.” He turned the page. “Here’s one that says some native American tribes could even control those they turned. She put a big asterisk next to that part. That’s crazy don’t you think?”

  “Hmm,” Judas glanced over, “what about her?”

  Jonah’s eyes narrowed, noticing his brother wasn’t even facing his work area. “Are you paying any attention? Have you even opened your binder this morning?”

  Judas bent his head and shook it. “No. I got bored and started daydreaming about when we might get to go bash some heads… I mean capture them. Then you mentioned Dr. Nitsau and I started wondering when we might get to see her again. It’s been three weeks.”

  “Judas, are you crazy? Do you really think the CEO of a major pharmaceutical company is romantically interested in someone she hired as an exterminator?”

  Judas’s face warmed and he shifted in his seat. “It could happen,” he mumbled without looking at his brother.

  “What?”

  “Interoffice romances happen all the time.”

  Jonah spun his head around, looking around the room. “Really? Cause all I see in this office is you and me!”

  Judas’s shoulders sank. “It’s not impossible.”

  “Sure,” Jonah said with a sharp nod. “Now, how about you get to studying the different zombies that will be trying to kill us so we can get to the fun part?”

  III. The Mama and the Papa

  Hank moved a lever back and forth on the pole causing the hoop at the end to cinch tight and then release.

  “If there’s just a few, you can use these to capture them and keep them out of reach. I’ve got a prototype around here somewhere for a version that’ll deliver a 100-megawatt jolt and fry em like a piece of over-cooked bacon in three seconds flat. Smells like holy hell but gets the job done.”

  “Sweet!” Judas said, moving the lever back and forth on his own pole. “When do I get to play with that one?”

  “You don’t.” Hank set his pole down. “I haven’t figured out how to insulate it properly yet. It can fry the wielder just as quick as the wearer. Besides, she wants them ‘living’ dead, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Judas sighed. “Living dead, check.”

  “That said,” Hank walked over to one of the many cabinets lining the wall. “If an outbreak gets out of control, there will be times you’ll have to exterminate a bunch before you can round up samples to bring back. You boys know how to handle a firearm?”

  “Oh, yeah! Time for the good stuff,” Judas grinned.

  “Yes,” Jonah added, “we’ve been shooting since we were little.”

  “Good.” Hank opened the cabinet, revealing a row of black polished assault rifles, handguns and more. “Let's take some of these to the range for practice.”

  The next morning, the brothers were back in warehouse nine going over implements with Hank when the phone on the wall rang. Hank walked over answered it, listened a moment, then turned to Jonah and Judas with a huge smile. “It’s for you.”

  Jonah took the phone, uncertain what to do as Hank grinned at him. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, hello,” a man’s voice answered. “Is this the zombie removal and extermination services?”

  Jonah’s eyes shot wide open and he looked at Judas motioning him over. “Uh, yes sir. My name’s Jonah, how can we help you?”

  Judas leaned in and put his ear next to the phone.

  “My neighbor’s zombies got out again and now they’re at my back door trying to get in and eat me and my kids. I’ve had it and I want them gone. They terrify my girls. If my wife comes home and finds them loose again she will lose it.”

  Jonah looked at Hank wanting to ask him what to do but the man just grinned at him, stroking the sides of his mustache, excitement radiating off of him.

  “What do you mean your neighbor’s zombies got out again?”

  “Douglas keeps them in a tin shed out back. They were family members that got turned during an outbreak overseas or something. Somehow he managed to smuggle them out of the country and into the US. He doesn’t want them put down, which I understand but when my little girls are outside playing and his dead mom bursts through the fence and tries to eat them, I’ve had enough!”

  “I understand, sir. What’s your address?” Jonah grabbed a pen and paper from Hank’s workbench and scribbled as the man spoke. “Okay, sir. Please stay inside and close your blinds. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up the phone.

  “Have we got a job, Jonah?” Judas’s eyes were wide and glistening with excitement.

  “Yeah, we do, though I’ve no idea what we do now.”

  Hank's face split in a wide whiskery smile. “Yahoo! It’s time to load you two up with weapons an
d gear and get you outta here!”

  “Ok,” Jonah nodded, adrenaline flooding his system. “I’ll go get Sasha and we can load up.”

  Hank’s face scrunched up, causing his mustache and beard to blend into one mass of hair. “Who’s Sasha?”

  “That’s our truck,” Judas said.

  “It’s a 55 Chevy Step-side. Used to be our dad’s. We’ve been restoring it,” Jonah added.

  “That sounds like a sweet ride. I’d love to see it sometime but you two will take a company vehicle.” He nodded toward the row of black BMW cargo vans. “You’ll need space to put the zoms. She’ll want at least three, no more than five. You can terminate any excess. If there’s freshly turned and old dead, make sure to get some of each.”

  “What do we do with any we put down?” Jonah asked.

  Hank shrugged. “Burn ‘em.”

  The van stopped at the address written on the scrap of paper in Jonah’s hand. “What do you think, we ready?”

  Judas studied the ordinary looking house. “Guess we kinda have to be, huh?”

  “Yep,” Jonah nodded, opening his door. “Let’s do this.”

  They met at the van’s back door, Judas slipping a large wad of chew into his mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  Judas shoved the tobacco in with his tongue and spat. “What?”

  “Now isn’t the time for chew.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not professional, Judas. We’re going into someone’s home. Plus, what if things get out of hand and you ended up swallowing it and getting sick? That’s not how we make a good impression.”

  Judas grimaced then reached into his lip, swiping out the wad of black gunk. “Fine.” He flung it to the ground with a splat.

  They opened the back of the van and examined the assortment of equipment Hank had prepared for them. Catch poles, knives, guns, a few axes, and other blades. There were even spears and a pair of assault rifles next two extra sets of body armor, gas masks, and two helmets.