by Al K. Line
They all agreed zombies was probably best, and although the debate raged on every now and then about quite what the fuck really was happening, the simple facts were that those that were infected were no longer the people they had been. They were base creatures and survival meant that it was them or the zombies, and the philosophical issues could wait until zombies weren't trying to eat their fucking brains!
"So, they are zombies, just not zombies as we thought we knew them. Kind of like Zombie 2.0 then?" ventured Kyle.
"Now that," said Ven, "is a cool as fuck name." And she was right, wasn't she?
The answer to what was going on was actually simple. They were dealing with the undead, genuine zombies that had been turned from living creatures into re-animated corpses with only one future — to mindlessly hunt down and kill the species they once were.
How they were re-animated is down to the nature of the subliminal messages that were flashed at speed via their Web connected device, and quite what that did to their brains and their bodies as a result. Sarlic Acwell, the man behind the compromised image packets the botnet unleashed, was a man far in advance of his contemporaries in the field of subliminal messaging. With an unlimited budget from his Masters he was able to dig up some incredible information about just how the human brain worked, uncovering amazing data concerning what it was capable of.
As far back as the 1920's Russian scientists had been experimenting with subliminal messaging to unleash hidden human potential. Before the experiments were shut down a lot of important information had been gathered. Sarlic had read it, and possessed no qualms about taking it a lot further. He had absolutely no issues at all when it came to experimenting on his never ending supply of human research test subjects. Not only did he find how to unleash the inner demons, sending people back to base instincts of the foulest and most derogatory and inhumane kind, he could temper his results with more or less humanity left intact if he so wished. With more or less tendency to becoming crazed.
But it was the results on the physical body that he was rather surprised at. Tests on the brains of live subjects in an MRI machine, immediately after they were infected, showed that something extremely odd was going on. Further study of the bodies' internal systems showed that this was not merely a matter of a person turning manic for human flesh, it went far beyond that. The people were actually dying and coming back to being — running on what was akin to a whole new way of life, or, more aptly, unlife.
Once infected by the subliminal messages, delivered by the zombie botnet, the end result was this: you did die, but you also came back. Re-animated into a different being run by base urges, maybe a glimmer of your former self hidden away, and if you were really unlucky it was strong enough to become self aware. Definitely a living hell of the worst possible kind.
The bodies of the infected were animated, and they worked. This was not a case of everything shutting down and the body being run by some kind of automation. You didn't just stumble along on auto-pilot. The heart actually pumped, and blood actually flowed, hormones worked and the brain functioned.
But it was nothing like how it was before the first mini-death the zombie botnet delivered. Once exposed to the botnet's subliminal virus the first reaction was a form epilepsy, too quick to notice in many subjects. The brain shut down — overloaded with stimuli from the rapidly flashing images. Next came anaphylaxis, an extreme reaction to the virus, overloading the body with not only anti-histamine but also a cocktail of internally produced chemicals that science had yet to discover, certainly not in the combination they spread through an infected person's body.
The result was death — but only for a very short period of time. The body was then re-animated, everything working to allow for a body to continue to exist. There would be no rot, this was a body that functioned, just not as it once had. The heart beat fast, much faster than before, chemically changed blood thickened due to the hormones now running rampant through a victim's body. Hypercoagulability was the end result, the viscous fluid now ensuring that even amputation would not result in death through loss of life-force, rather it would just be an extreme inconvenience.
Thrombin, the blood enzyme responsible for the clotting process, would work in overdrive, sealing up wounds almost instantly. The other side-effect of thickened, and slower blood was that not only did the victim run very hot due to increased heart beat and fever-like symptoms, but the less than optimally oxygenated blood could not deliver nutrients in as efficient a manner. It helped to add to the already deranged nature of the infected, hunger in the extreme was a constant as that which was consumed was not stripped of its life giving force in any kind of an efficient manner.
Digestive functions worked as before — urine and feces produced and released. The unfortunate fact was that due to lack of awareness or even feeling, it happened automatically, with the body unable to signal to itself to hold on for a more convenient time. Zombies were covered in their own foulness as well as that from their now cannibalistic nature. The stench of excrement that was the result of eating the flesh, brains, and internal organs of another human being was overpowering in the extreme, to put it mildly.
The nightmare that was their existence did not end there. Nerves no longer functioned properly, feeling was minimal, and pain could not be inflicted in any real sense any longer. Want to injure a zombie with your kick-ass sword? To them it's more like a touch from a feather than a cut with cold steel. The nociceptors (the nerves dedicated to pain) of an infected person were blunted. The brain returning to a base model, where food and survival were all that mattered.
Pain was blunted. The body became more efficient through fast response to releasing thrombin when physical damage was detected. Autonomic and motor nerves worked just as well as before, in fact motor nerves were very much heightened due to the incredible amount of hormones released, adrenaline being only one. Sensory nerves were almost eliminated completely, being a hindrance to the mission of the zombie: kill and consume at all costs.
The contents of the subliminal package annihilated higher functioning in an instant. The frontal lobes were systematically wiped out, problem solving was more or less eliminated in most cases, but not all. Neuropeptide Y (NPY) was delivered in constant, and large, quantities. A constant hunger trigger that is normally regulated by the hypothalamus, which was now irreversibly haywire.
The NPY built over time, higher and higher doses released as the body automatically reacted to a lack of a regular food supply. It stopped the epilepsy returning, but was also a new bodily reaction that began to stop emaciation once it reached a certain level. It began to help store more fuel as fat, ensuring the zombies had fuel reserves for some time to come. NPY, and a combination of other amino acids, not only helped blunt pain, but the insanely high doses the hypothalamus released meant that the body efficiently began to lay down fat stores for lean times. All while stopping satiety — an infuriating mix.
Endorphins were released in vast quantities whenever food was eaten. In combination with no trigger to indicate food was no longer required they also experienced an extreme high from eating — the zombies would simply eat until comatose. No more food could actually fit into their gut. The end result? They would become blissfully comatose when they consumed as much as possible, endorphins running rampant and giving a high only heroin addicts could possibly explain. Serotonin being the main hormone that goes into overdrive. All of this and more began to occur fractionally after initial death.
The brain has the ability to continue firing off electrical impulses for hours after death, the zombie botnet only took a minute or less of that available time to scramble the brain, re-configure how it worked, and turn a once normal person into a high seeking cannibal concerned only with fueling its insatiable desire for food and the constant quest for the cannibalistic high.
It could never be fully satisfied until its stomach was ready to pop. And in short order the contents of its ghastly meal would be very inefficiently used for fuel, the
rest coming out in all its foulness — the cycle then beginning all over again.
For those still alive there were a lot of fundamental questions behind just whether or not you were actually killing a person if you killed a zombie. When is a person no longer a person? What part of the brain makes them who they are? Defense is one thing, sticking sharp things in a tied up creature is entirely another.
Nobody slept well the night the moniker 'Zombie 2.0' was attributed to the creatures that were destroying humanity, and it was all Ven's fault.
She slept especially badly that night — and many more subsequently.
World in a Box
Oddly enough the life they had been living since the zombie botnet was unleashed was harder on Kyle and Ven than it was on Al and Cassie in terms of practical and day to day living. There was no doubt that Cassie was the most sensitive of the group, being a lot more emotional and unable to cope as well with the actual zombie side of things. But Cassie had spent years living a life in tune with nature, even if she did insist on actually knitting trousers for some reason only she could understand. Dubious knitwear aside it meant that she actually 'knew' how real life worked. She may not have been good with money and living as part of the rat-race, but she understood the ways of the world as only a person who enjoyed being in the moment could.
She watched the seasons, she saw the earth change from verdant green to golden brown, and saw the rivers and the streams rise and fall with cycles of the rain, moon and sun — when it shone.
She planted seeds and watched daily the miracle that was occurring — forever in awe of the fact that from a single grain could come a whole plant that could feed you for months on end, merely needing some fertile soil in which to grow.
Cassie understood that for much of the world luxuries such as on-demand heating, power and clean piped water were insane privileges. She also despaired of a world where water that was fit for drinking was used to flush away waste in the toilet. It was a fucked up system to her and was one of the many reason why she had chosen a life well away from it all for the last few years. She had taken it to the extreme of not using any water for her bodily waste needs, composting toilets are all the rage for communes these days (or were).
She hefted logs, she split them, then she got heat not only from them burning but from the work involved in making them a suitable fuel source. She stacked the logs, she sharpened the axe, and she nursed the callouses. She fed animals, also tending to them when ill, therefore she understood that the meat she ate was from a living thing, so she paid her respects.
Ven called her sister 'full of hippy shit' and Cassie may have been a little pie-in-the-sky about some things, but she understood what it took to live off your own wits, and to not take modern life with all of its amenities to hand for granted. Heat, food, and clean water involved work in other words. With her experience she was better able to cope practically with the world they all now found themselves in than the others.
The emotional side of it was another matter entirely. Cassie probably had more sensitivity to external stimuli then the rest of the group put together, and the world she found herself in was bleak and lonely; the joy had gone out of the natural world for her now.
The computer obsessed Ven and Kyle found the changes the hardest to become accustomed to. Theirs was a digital existence. Money was just numbers, not something you earned by getting your hands dirty. For them it involved tapping at a keyboard, covering their tracks virtually, not physically, and dealing with the darker and most private parts of society, dealing mostly with other hackers like them.
Days and weeks were spent lost in worlds contained within digital boxes, manipulating the innocent to earn a living and continue doing what they enjoyed — a virtual existence where they were in total control.
Now everything was different.
Did that world even exist any more? It all seemed so important at the time: watching Twitter streams and picking out expensive items Online. Half observing the transience of virtual acquaintances that came and went over the years, no real contact ever having been had. The small box they sat at daily was their life to a large degree, and they were in control.
Even when out on a walk or a trip to the shops they were often pre-occupied with their pixelated existence. Wondering what had happened to the latest botnet they were involved with, or wondering if they could hack Instagram for nefarious means. It all seemed so crucial at the time.
Yet here they now were, faced with the realities of not only an existence where everything wasn't taken for granted, but a world where fighting for your very survival was consideration numero uno. It took some getting used to.
It was like looking at the world reborn with fresh eyes, and no digital retreat. There were some serious withdrawal symptoms. Previously at least half of their days, every day, were taken up by the worlds contained within their monitors, now it had all blurred into the past like a digital haze.
What had happened to it all?
Did that world still exist somewhere?
And how could they grow vegetables if they couldn't look up the BBC Website on when to plant cabbages?
This was one of the hardest things to face. You couldn't tap a search query into Google any more and get the answer to any question you had, you had to either read an actual book on the subject or figure it out for yourself.
It was like being thrown into the real world at the deep end. And it was going to take quite some time to get used to it.
So Kyle worked with Al, safeguarding the house, building walls, cutting planks for securing possible entry points to their home, and myriad other hands-on tasks. Learning how to drill sheets of steel they found in one of the barns, drilling pilot holes and then screwing them into the walls and original frames of the openings, making them as secure as they could possibly be. Kyle split wood and carried it indoors. No longer could you just tap your temperature into your phone via a nifty app and hear the creak of the floorboards as the heating kicked in. It took work, and it was enjoyable.
It was like stepping out from one world and into another — like finally becoming fully alive.
There was satisfaction with knowing it was through your own efforts that the room was warm and the dinner could be cooked. A few weeks of simpler living was awakening them to what they had been missing. They were actually beginning to understand how the most basic of things took real effort.
This is not to say they wouldn't go back to instant hot water, an app for the oven timer, piped gas for heating, constant electricity that didn't shut off if a generator ran out of fuel, and lights that wouldn't burn the house down if you forgot about them and let them burn to the quick. Yes, there were a few scorched table tops and a few buckets of water thrown at various carpets to stop them burning themselves to death.
It was frustrating as hell when you lit a fire in the hearth and all you got was a room full of smoke. It was a new experience entirely to fall asleep where you stood, so tired were you from chopping, carrying, digging, building and generally using your body for hard physical labor. A different world was what they slowly got accustomed to, and they both felt a pang of regret that they had taken their previous lives so much for granted, ignoring the simple pleasures of life.
Although there was always a niggling sensation, one that wouldn't go away — I wonder if anyone is still on Twitter?
And there was, they just didn't know it yet.
But the home they found themselves in allowed them to get back in touch with an incomplex way of life, and let's face it, it had only been a couple of days since it all went pear-shaped anyway, so they were doing fairly well for 'townies'.
What a Jolly Jaunt
Kyle was not what you would call a macho guy. His slim frame, almost always black clothes, dark long hair and lack of color made him look exactly like what he was: a bit of a computer nerd with a liking for punk and heavy guitar based music. But he had learned a lot over the past few weeks, and he was changing, slowly but surely.
He had caught the sun and his skin was darkening. He had also begun to show the beginnings of some muscle on his frame. He had actually eaten better since the manor house than he ever had in his life. He was one of the fortunates, most people in the world were either being eaten themselves or slowly starving. All of the hard physical work, and the large supply of food from store, meant he was beginning to fill out and actually look like a respectably fit and athletic young man.
He had shown he could hold his own when necessary, he had saved Ven's life a few times now and shown he wasn't afraid to stand his ground in a fight. Not that he wasn't shit scared mind you, he just let it wash over him, repeating the mantra he remembered from Dune:
'I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.'
It helped to center him, and he knew that he was going to keep his wits about him today. Kyle and Al had decided to come back to Pentref y Melltithio to get supplies, the only problem being that neither of them could drive. So, Cassie was given the job of being the chauffeur for the day, and she wasn't happy about it at all. Apart from the fact that she was in a very dark place and finding it harder by the day to cope with simple things, she basically found it bloody ridiculous that neither of them had ever even tried to learn how to do something everyone else over eighteen she had ever met could do.
"You two need to learn how to fucking drive," said Cassie. And not for the first time that day.
"We know," said Kyle. Totally exasperated by this thorny issue.
Al kept quiet, he knew this was no time to demand ten pence.
The mood in the Land Rover was sombre, and for good reason. As soon as they had hit the outskirts of the town it was obvious that things had changed, and not for the better. Most of the fires were now out, but after a few weeks of festering the dead had really begun to putrefy badly. It is one thing staring at a dead body, it is quite another to stare at a dead body that is infested with maggots and flies where you can actually see flesh oozing and sliding off bones — slow roasting in the exceptionally warm summer they seemed to be experiencing. Never mind the smell, which was almost debilitating in its intensity.
