Zombie Botnet Bundle: Books 1 - 3: #zombie, Zombie 2.0, Alpha Zombie

by Al K. Line

  The lesson took a while.

  Ven tried to listen and take note, but it seemed like you basically put bullets in and pointed it at zombies and pulled the trigger. The guys said they would take care of the rest. She was sure they would. They were like little kids with their new and very dangerous toys.

  "Well, we need to go. So much for just a few hours of free shopping and home for tea," said Ven.

  School was done for the day. The information overload left Kyle and Al in somewhat of a daze. But they were certainly quite excited about their new arsenal. Even Al, who had until now thought guns would be a bit too much to have to deal with.

  "You are welcome to tag along, you know. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. We may be a bit cramped but Basil bus is there if you want to come with?"

  "Basil bus?" said Joe, confused.

  "Um, yeah," said a slightly embarrassed Ven, it's... erm, the name of the bus. It was their idea," she said, pointing at Al and Kyle accusingly.

  "What? It's a cool name for a cool bus," protested Kyle. "But yeah, you guys are more than welcome."

  "Same goes here, why not stay? This place has everything we need, plus it's safer than being out there."

  "No offense Joe, I know you know your stuff and all, but in our experience nowhere is safe, not inside, outside, not even if you think you have a fortress. Something always goes wrong. So we like to stay on the move now. All the gear will help with our chances, but don't take anything for granted," said Ven, trying her best to give fair warning without being rude.

  "Okay, fine. I am going to stay put though, if Nopad wants to tag along with you guys...?" Joe looked over to the young dude inquiringly.

  "I'm staying with Joe, but thanks for the offer, I appreciate it." Nopad may not have liked Joe's bossy side but he felt safer here than outside, and he knew that Joe would always look out for him if he possibly could.

  "Okay then. Let's load up the shopping then boys and get the hell out of here."

  As they turned to leave and were at the door Al rested one giant arm on the frame and said, "The door, what is being behind that door. We heard the moans of the zombies. Why is this being?" Al was not known for his tact, Ven and Kyle were not going to mention it, they just wanted to leave on good terms and not get involved in anything freaky.

  "It's the zombies... the infected. The ones we didn't kill. Well, we tried not to kill any of them to be honest once we knew what was going on. We locked them up. I didn't know if this thing, this infection, was reversible, would fade, or what. Now? I don't know what to do. What do you guys think?" Joe had killed plenty in his time, but it didn't sit well killing if he could just contain. He had always had his or an employer's life at risk when he had fired his weapon. This was all a very different scenario.

  "That's your call Joe, we don't want to interfere. To tell the truth we are in no position to judge. You seem like a nice guy, so it's your decision. Just be sure of one thing though," said Ven.

  "What?"

  "Don't let the buggers out, they get hungrier over time, and they get a lot more intelligent. We have seen them hunting in packs, and they seem to be able to do things they couldn't just a few weeks ago. Whatever is going on inside them changes over time and they get even more rabid but a lot smarter. Make sure that room is properly secure."

  "Thanks, will do. Let us help you with your, um, shopping. And don't forget your guns," reminded Joe, indicating the large pile of weaponry.

  "Thanks Joe, we appreciate it," said Kyle, slinging a few guns and bags of ammo over his shoulder. Al grabbed them in his giant meaty paws and between them all they carried them back out to the large open space where the elevators were.

  Along with the trolleys full of protective gear, plus the countless other items, they were looking at a few trips in the elevators to haul it all up to the ground level.

  They all heard it at the same time.

  Diiing.

  It echoed down the shaft.

  Someone had pressed the button on the floor above and the elevator began to rise.

  "Shit, shit, shit," cursed Joe, stabbing the call button repeatedly to no avail. The elevator was on its way up. It stopped at ground level and they could hear the doors opening. And closing.

  It was on its way down.

  7 Seconds Away

  Enlightenment was his.

  He understood the grave error he had almost made on a cellular level.

  Nirvana enveloped him.

  An overriding feeling of understanding his place in the universe. Some things were now simply too hard to fight against, and he should be accepting of his true self. His base instincts took over. He went from wishing for a reconciliation with what he had believed to be his fellow man to recognizing that he was a different kind of creature now — there was never going to be any chance of integration. His olfactory nerves went into overdrive, sending a signal directly to his brain, warning him about what was waiting for him on the next level.

  Fuck, how could I be so stupid? I was one of them once, I should know better. They don't care and they will always be like that. And I wanted to re-join that race!

  He was more disgusted and shamed with himself than he had ever been in his life. He remembered all the cruelties he had witnessed humans do to others. He came to an understanding. He recalled all the malicious taunts inflicted on him, and by him, as a child. All the petty jealousies of colleagues at work, the bitter divorces his friends (ha, friends) had been through, the love gone and replaced with hate. The never ending news of war, famine and poverty, while others had billions. The people dying alone and neglected while their families sold their houses and argued over who got to have the china. This and countless other insights into man's inhumanity to man were processed as he descended.

  He wanted back into that?

  No.

  He was what he was, and they were what they were.

  All that they did was to cause suffering. On purpose. Fully aware of what they did and the consequences of their actions.

  Time for a new, more honest master-race.

  Alfred was completely aware of what he had become, more's the pity, but it allowed him to gain full insight into the state of being of the infected. Their actions were not based upon a purposeful wish to cause misery or to torture for the sake of it, they simply knew no different — functioned on instinct. Overriding chemical reactions within the body put the host out of action as far as social conscience and even the possibility of empathy, unaware that such a reality existed. They were animals, so they wanted to feed, not to torture or psychologically harm their victims — just to eat them.

  Human beings had no excuse.

  All pervasive on his way down to the basement was the palpable stench of suffering of those that did nothing out of spite. It was caused purposefully by those that certainly knew better. It left him in no doubt about who deserved what on this earth. He could smell the fear, taste the misery and the slow death happening below. He could sense the confusion, the hunger, the inability to control those base instincts. Above all he could smell the corpses of those left to starve to death slowly, others just a few scant hours away from a similar exit from this world once run by so-called civilized beings.

  And I wanted back in!

  He picked his side — not that there had ever really been a choice he now realized.

  The moment the elevator door had opened at the ground level it was like he awoke from yet another dream. His pre-occupation with his appearance and his ridiculous urge for acceptance from the un-infected had left him without focus on the signals that were now almost overpowering.

  It hit him as the elevator doors opened and washed over him like a tidal wave of despair. He could smell, sense, and somehow mentally connect with the misery of the infected creatures locked in the room. His so-called humanity was gone. Replaced with a realization that it was idiocy to ever want to return to being human. He wasn't that kind of being any longer. Why would he want to be? This is what
civilized people did. They locked you in a room and left you to die horribly. They didn't care and they had a choice. The infected didn't.

  Apart from him. He was special, and he would be their salvation.

  Acceptance was bliss.

  No more struggling to try to become something he knew he no longer was. No more shame, trying to hide his true desires, or suppress what were now base urges. He would revel in his new powers, his ability to be aware of them, and his knowledge of the base cruelty of those that had a choice.

  He was the happiest he had been in a lifetime, this one or the last.

  He saw himself clearly when the elevator doors opened, the large mirror presenting what he had become in stark detail. He put his back to the mirror, he had more important things to think about than how he looked to the people he was about to kill and eat.

  The doors closed.

  The baby he would save for last, so it stayed fresh.

  He sang "7 Seconds Away" as the lift descended.

  Not long now brothers and sisters, your savior is on his way.

  Diiing.

  ###

  They were far from as prepared as they would have liked. But at least there were guns this time. Ven was feeling rather confident, even if her firearms knowledge had not even gotten to the rudimentary stage yet. Point. Fire. Reload. She had understood that much. If it went wrong there was always the sword.

  They were only dealing with one elevator anyways, whatever was inside would be vastly outnumbered.

  Weapons pointed at the elevator doors, spread out in a semicircle, whatever was coming didn't stand a chance. They had all dealt with the undead before, and one thing they all knew was that if you had some distance they could be taken down with ease.

  That was their mistake.

  Alfred was not a normal zombie, Alfred was special. Although not unique in the world he certainly wasn't in the majority. He could reason; he could plan ahead. So he took the stairs.

  As the elevator doors opened to reveal nothing but empty space and the group stood around looking bemused Alfred slid quietly through the doors leading to the stairs and began to make his way towards his brethren. It wasn't until he was part way through the access point to the administrative heart of the warehouse that he was spotted.

  "There, there, a man, in a skirt. I am thinking he is a clever zombie," shouted Al as Alfred ran down the corridor, out of sight.

  "Shit. Sneaky bugger. C'mon," called Joe, already after him and catching up fast.

  The others followed as fast as they could, taken off-guard and surprised that one of the zombies had had the intelligence to plan like this. As they ran after him Ven did wonder if there were more infected with him, but it was too late now.

  Damn, we were nearly back on the bus and away from this place.

  "He's headed for the zombie room," Nopad shouted ahead to Joe. "He's going right for them."

  "Shite. Whatever you do don't let him get through that door, this is going to be really bad if they all get out. Really bad."

  As they ran down the corridor after this strange looking zombie Kyle stared at Nopad quizzically. "Just what have you guys been doing dude? How many have you got in that room?"

  "You really don't want to know, trust me, that door needs to stay locked. I told Joe not to keep 'em but the big bugger is a softie really. Well, sort of."

  The intruder was in sight, he was a very odd looking man indeed. Disheveled, smelly, certainly infected. In the split second she got a good look at him Ven could tell that there was something very different about him to the usual zombies they encountered. For a start he was wearing a skirt, although they had seen some peculiar sights since this whole mess began. Men in ladies underwear, people with all kinds of bizarre gear on, but this was different.

  This man had obviously changed his clothes after infection, there was nothing like the mess their would usually be even a day after the change. What did that mean? That he was intelligent? That he wasn't totally lost to the other side?

  Too late to dwell on it now.

  The door splintered as the intruder smashed against it again. Ven nearly passed out as a wall of stench hit her like a kick to the guts.

  Tomas howled at the assault on his delicate nostrils. Even Bos Bos found it offensive.

  This was going to get messy.

  We Can Has Brains?

  Immediately after the infection hit the Sec UK building was overrun. Mere hours later Joe and Nopad were the only survivors. The rest were either eaten, infected, or had run away.

  The initial madness and mayhem saw Joe committing death dealing shots in a calm and relaxed manner that surprised even him. While the carnage raged all around he took his time and carefully killed anything rabid. Nopad basically went along for the protection. He had never fired a gun in his life, and really didn't have a clue how to use one. He tried his best, but little hit the mark.

  After an onslaught of killing on a mass scale never before experienced Joe began to think that outright slaughter was maybe not the best way to deal with the infected. Once he managed to learn what was going on via the TV he thought about what he had done, what was happening, and wondered about the future.

  If he carried on killing the infected was it murder? He didn't know if this was temporary or not. Maybe it was not the best idea to be blowing the brains out of anything that bared its teeth. If these rabid people could be saved at some point in the future then did he want their unnecessary deaths on his conscience?

  He switched to using the numerous electric shock weapons in the cache, Nopad being much more use when he didn't have to aim with a gun. They incapacitated rather than decapitated. Those that were already dead were cleaned away, both infected and non-infected. They loaded them all into a lorry outside, sealing it shut forever.

  Any infected that they could they shocked and dragged to the room, it was dangerous work — more so as the numbers inside increased. They had to use the shock belts, prods and Tasers repeatedly to keep the infected sedate enough to drag them in then keep them at bay. After 'saving' numerous infected in this way it eventually become too risky an endeavor, Joe had no choice but to revert back to eliminating the majority. Subsequently they only moved those that had fed well; they were like a different breed altogether. It was as easy as dragging them down the corridor and stuffing them inside. After days the zombies were finally cleared away. The room became a total no-go zone.

  The last time they had tried to open the door to push one inside the hordes had grabbed hold of the shock baton Joe was carrying, nearly dragging him inside. The stench made him gag and he was lucky to get away with his life.

  After that new rules were adhered to unflinchingly.

  All people eaters they encountered they killed on sight.

  As the days passed and the zombies in the room grew hungry again their bodies began to change once food was not instantly available. Neuropeptide Y did its job and they began to grow quieter for hours at a time as the transformation took place inside. Some of them died, wounded during capture or unable to change effectively to cope with no food, their bodies shut down and simply turned off for good. Most took the switch-over well, holding onto small fat stores to keep them alive, their brain functions slowing down even further, adrenaline receding to conserve energy and un-life.

  They hibernated.

  Core temperatures cooled. They waited. From deep within themselves they listened, and sniffed, nostrils flaring at even the slightest change in air movement or smell.

  The hint of human flesh sent them into instant demented action. Frenzied to a degree never before needed. As the ferocity increased with the possibility of a meal so did strength and cunning.

  The door no longer opened, no more scent of flesh and brains for days at a time, always on the wrong side of the door. Tantalizingly close, but impossible to grab and suck on. Some stood. Waiting. Most lay down, practically zero energy expended. They fouled themselves less and less as their meals were processed, finally ev
acuated. Excrements solidifying, even tiny movements as stiff and awkward as their clothes. Air was fetid, cloying, thick with gases.

  The dead? The truly dead? They became a consideration.

  Time wore on. More died. Others adapted. Eventually having to emerge from their short hibernation. To survive they ate their brethren.

  Cannibalism of their own kind was a last resort, an act somehow as anathema to them as eating each other is to the human race. But when faced with extinction it was devour or die — most devoured, just enough to function. They waited. Returned to hibernation. Change was coming, finally, so they began to stir. New smells, fresh, innocent and juicy moved past on the other side. The infected became animated once again. Hormones began to surge, adrenaline picking up its pace, releasing into the bloodstream in vast quantities. The taste of flesh was ripe in the air. It was now just a matter of time. Then nothing. It passed and they began to slow once again. But their bodies coiled, something else was happening.

  A new thing.

  Unique.

  A reckoning.

  Their hunger consumed them still.

  My Brothers

  Alfred was where he belonged. The species he understood he was now a part of was just on the other side of the door. Their cravings, no, their needs, pulsed through his very pores, seeping into him. He became a part of a pack.

  More.

  He became a leader that day. That minute. He felt his true calling after all the confusion of the last seven days. These were his brothers and sisters, his kind. He was more than Alfred now, he was something new.