Zombie. I hate the Z word.
I walked over to one of the men a soldier had shot. A thin man. Bullet right through the heart. Bled out completely all around his body. I reached down to feel for a pulse and there was nothing, I mean NOTHING. He was dead. No pulse is dead, right? I stared at him for a while, at how alive he still looked.
And then I realized he was alive.
He looked at me and held out a hand for help up. I staggered back in horror. He sat up a bit. I moved back toward him and heard “We got a walker!”
At that moment a bullet went through his skull. No blood whatsoever came out of his head, and he fell dead. I then felt a gun to my jaw.
“You make me sick.” a soldier said. “When we finally get the OK to kill you all then we can go home. Until then mind your own damn business, Quarry”. I walked away and knew we were all doomed. It was only a matter of time.
Weeks passed and I slowly began to lose my sanity. With nothing to look forward to and nothing to keep my mind sharp I literally was becoming a zombie. They rarely fed us and when they did it was obviously just scraps left over from those of us that had been shot by the guards, or rats, mice, and other vermin. The pain was unbearable, my body ached all the time, except when I fed.
I was always hungry, always thirsty, always searching for something; maybe for my soul... I would stagger about all day trying to communicate, trying to seem normal. It was hard to be still. Once I found a shopping cart and must have pushed it around the camp for hours, even days, before I threw it to the ground in disgust. I think I did it to feel normal. To hold on to my old life, what I had. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me but I knew I was losing my human-ness, if that is a word, and I desperately wanted to keep it. I missed driving my car, going to work, watching TV, getting gas, shopping. The little things we take for granted that sick people or captives always say they miss. Well, I missed those things, when I could remember them. Most of the time I thought of nothing at all. I was nothing now, and was forgetting what it was like to exist.
Weeks went by and we, as a group, would often go into Frenzies and devour each other but the guards no longer burned the remains. There were body parts and filth all over the camp now. When I saw a guard I would stagger toward him and moan for help. The horror in their faces, the disgust. Why wouldn’t they set us free? Why didn’t they just kill us? They would taunt me and all I could do was swipe the air trying to grab them, unable to communicate.
More infected were brought in every day. The guards had stopped taking care of the camp all together after the holidays and it fell into disarray. Food was scarce and survival was difficult. I had to learn how to fight, how to survive. We were encouraged by the guards to eat each other but save Frenzy, it didn’t appeal to me. Luckily, since Marshall Law had been declared there were a lot of healthy people being arrested. I guess they didn’t have anyone to watch the regular prisons because they would dump them in with us. And the guards didn’t seem to care. They had been all but abandoned by the Federal Government and were desperately trying to stay alive in this strange new world.
“If they aren’t sick now, they will be soon, so who cares?” was a common sentiment.
The look of horror on the faces of these Healthies as they were brought in to our camp was pleasurable to me. They knew what we were and were scared to death. Some would immediately try to kill us while others kept their distance. A whole society grew here in the camp based on Healthies and the infected living in the same environment. I soon figured out that we were all being watched, studied even, from the beginning. This was an extermination and experimentation camp. A microcosm of society, either of how it currently was outside these walls or how it could become. It was a test, and we were the subjects. I could sometimes see men in lab coats and military uniforms in the towers looking down and studying how we all interacted.
Infected outnumbered Healthies 10 to 1, otherwise they would massacre us. Still, I needed to learn the ways of warfare to survive in the camp and this gave me a new reason to live; something to concentrate on. A few guards were actually friendly, and I had known one. He saw that I was somewhat intelligent and gave me “The Art of War” by Sun Tsu. I could still read fairly well, but slow, and appreciated the book. I don’t really know if he gave it to me out of kindness, or if it was part of the “study” being done on the camp. You know, plant a book and see if the Quarry can learn.
Well I did learn.
I applied the techniques and information in the book. The parts about motivating the soldiers was un-needed. The motivation to kill Healthies was that they were our food. However, the parts concerning tactics; When to fight, how to fight, these were invaluable. One of my favorite quotes was “The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him”. This was our calling card, as imposing will on our infected soldiers was nearly impossible.
We had limited mobility but little fear. We had to strike first and expect casualties on our side when we fought them. Pointing the most mindless and horribly disfigured of us toward the Healthies to shock them, absorb their fury, and tire them out was the best way. Attack the heart of the enemy with fear. Then the rest of us would move in and kill and feed on the minds and bodies.
These skirmishes became regular events. I had many followers and became a leader in the camp, even respected by many of the guards, some of which called me The Colonel... This adulation was good, but also bad. And I soon found out how bad.
One evening I was near my tent and I heard a guard’s voice. “Hey you know what Colonel? I think it’s time you were taken to the lab and cut up like the freak you are. I don’t care what they say, I am sick of watching you kill people and eat them, criminals or not.”
Then he and two others grabbed me and threw me in the back of a Humvee. We rode outside the walls of the compound and down a highway. A gun to my face and a bayonet in my ribs, inches deep, I was bleeding all over the floor but didn't feel any weaker.
When we arrived I was thrown out of the vehicle and attendants injected me with something. I was taken into a building and led down a hall. I had never been so scared in my life. Or so angry...
3
Escape
IF I AM CAPTURED I WILL CONTINUE TO RESIST BY ALL MEANS AVAILABLE. I WILL MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO ESCAPE AND AID OTHERS TO ESCAPE. I WILL ACCEPT NEITHER PAROLE NOR SPECIAL FAVORS FROM THE ENEMY. IF I BECOME A PRISONER OF WAR, I WILL KEEP FAITH WITH MY FELLOW PRISONERS. I WILL GIVE NO INFORMATION OR TAKE PART IN ANY ACTION WHICH MIGHT BE HARMFUL TO MY COMRADES. IF I AM SENIOR, I WILL TAKE COMMAND. IF NOT, I WILL OBEY THE LAWFUL ORDERS OF THOSE APPOINTED OVER ME AND WILL BACK THEM UP IN EVERY WAY.
-U.S. Fighting Force, Code of Conduct
The hall was lined with small rooms. We stopped in front of one, the door was opened, and I was stripped and thrown in. The room was tiled, and several nozzles were on each wall, the ceiling and floor. Water shot out of each nozzle; steaming hot water. It burned as it hit my skin from all directions. This seemed to go on for several minutes and I screamed the entire time. It finally stopped. The door burst open and three white suits came in. Two held me as the third thoroughly checked every one of my orifices and left. Then what smelled like bleach shot out of the nozzles, again for several minutes. When that stopped and I was left alone for a short while.
The white suits came back in and dragged me out. I was taken to a room with 12 others like me. I was placed against an upright table and metal cuffs built into the table itself held me at the wrists, ankles, and waist. The rest were held the same way, and there were 3 men and 2 women in lab coats with Government IDs pinned to them cutting the flesh off of a red-headed woman. They took all the meat off her leg, and it almost looked like they did it just to see if and how she would react. I shook and tried to free myself to help her but felt very weak.
She moaned and to someone who didn’t know must have looked severely mentally retarded; or even mindless. But I knew she just could n
o longer speak. None of us could. We couldn’t communicate to them at all. They probably thought we were so ill that we had lost our faculties and could no longer think intelligently. Honestly I wondered if that was true because I couldn’t understand all of what they were saying anymore. It sounded like gibberish, but some I could pick up. I also wondered if the effects of this disease would be reversible. I thought of trying to write something to show I could think, but my arms and legs were strapped to the table and I don’t think I could have written anything anyway. While I felt the danger, the fight or flight response was not ever-present. It would come, and go.
The red haired woman being tortured continued to moan until one of the men shot her in the forehead and killed her. They unstrapped her and dragged her from the room. Next, one by one, we were all examined. They pierced each of us with large needles in different areas of our bodies. They were extracting fluids, mostly concentrating on the torso; the organs. These fluid samples were meticulously labeled and stored on a crash cart.
They must have found something of special interest in three of us because they removed select organs from them by slicing and cutting each one out.
I was spared this, thankfully.
We were then given vaccinations from a large gun by one of the women and our collars were removed; A blond woman with short hair. Her ID said Blake, Linda Ann. Was this a cure?!?! Perhaps they removed infected organs from some and cleansed us in preparation for inoculating us with a cure!!! I was reaching. Why would they shoot a woman in the head after cutting her up like that if they intended to help us?
After the shots they all suddenly left the room. The lights were turned out and there we stood, attached to tables in the dark. All we could do was moan out of fear and wonder what was going on.
In the dark they say the mind plays tricks. It was too black to see much, even after an hour or so, and I don’t know if I fell asleep and dreamt or imagined or if this happened.... The moans of the others was... hypnotic, and I relaxed instead of struggling and somehow slipped free from my bonds. I left the room and walked down the hall to an operating room with windows facing out into the hall.
I crouched down and looked in.
Several Healthies lay on tables, each being operated on, some unconscious some awake. I watched curiously as what looked like the fluids removed from us were injected into the Healthies. Three of them looked like they were having the organs that were extracted from the infected transplanted into them. Fluids were rubbed in the eyes of some. Cuts were made and exposed to the parts and fluids taken from us. Some were simply murdered without being put in direct contact with the fluids. It was plain to see that they were testing methods of infection on Healthies.
In a matter of minutes the murdered victims reanimated. They had not been directly exposed to the infected fluids or organs, they had just died. Then the group that was directly exposed died and then minutes later reanimated. They were all put through the same examination we had undergone that night. Those that received transplants didn’t seem to die, but definitely turned and became infected as a result.
Then the “doctors” began to try and kill the reanimated in many different ways. I mean what good is testing how people become infected without using their reanimated infected bodies to see what will kill them, right? I can only imagine this sick, twisted, logic being used to excuse what came next. One man had his heart removed. A woman had her lungs taken, just dug out of her. Several of the infected had organs removed, and all that did survived. One had the brain removed and died on the spot. A head was removed and it lived on while the body expired. The torture going on was horrible, and I knew there could be worse in store for us. They were finishing up and I crept back to the room and slipped back into my bonds.
The next day, or at least I think it was the next day, the white coats came in and turned on the lights. Was I awake all this time or did I dream? I still don’t know. I felt scared, in pain, and hungry. I looked around and there were only 8 of us left. Just then Linda Ann Blake was directly in front of me. I think she said “Good morning” but I can’t be sure.
She had a drill in her hand with a large bit in it. She turned it on and one of the men called to her. She turned to respond and got just close enough. Wham! I crashed my head hard into hers. She lilted back and slammed into a red switch on the wall. At that moment an alarm went off and all of our bonds were released. As we moved off the tables, one of the Healthies shot and killed a man and what looked to be his son before we could get to him. Again, I was in a Frenzy. Blood and flesh everywhere. One of us snapped a Healthy’s neck as he screamed. We killed them all except Linda Ann. She ran out.
We gorged ourselves, uncontrollably, and again felt no pain afterwards and very little regret. Then I heard footsteps. I told everyone to be quiet. It came out as a groan, true, but an intelligible groan because they understood. I could now muster up what could be interpreted as crude speech. Was it the food? The shot? I picked up a gun from the floor and shot and killed several men who came through the door. They looked in disbelief at me as I fired at them, almost like they couldn’t believe it. Stomachs full, we stepped over them and headed for the exit.
Once outside we got in a Humvee, the 6 of us that were left, and I drove for the gate. We crashed through and headed into the night. They weren’t just killing us; they were doing experiments on us and on Healthies, too! All of us, U.S. citizens! WE were doing experiments on citizens, the U.S. Government, us.
I put some distance between us and the hospital, just driving. After a while we stopped in a field and got out. We could still understand each other’s groans and soon realized the outbreak had left us with limited capacity for speech, mobility, a lot of things; but we managed. It turns out we could write a bit so we used that too, and we could all read. It was just hard to concentrate.
The Humvee was full of guns and we decided it was us against them. Maybe it was a drug company and not the Government? This had to be an isolated incident. Someone had to be trying to help people like us! Our Government would not experiment on us and kill us. We are Americans! This doesn’t happen in America.
We were heading to Norfolk to hopefully find help. Deep down I still hated what I was doing and hated killing others. But I knew we couldn’t let them kill us. We had to fight. We were angry and wanted answers almost as much as we wanted to be cured.
I drove the whole way. None of the others can do anything too complex. I seem to be more capable than most. Don’t know whether they are in shock, injured, just exhausted.... Hey, I am shaken by the events, too, but I hold it together like always. I had been driving on the median, shoulder, over other cars whatever worked. But then we got a few hundred yards from a tunnel and had to stop dead on the bridge we were on. Abandoned cars blocked the road leading to the tunnel. Too many to drive over, even in the Humvee. We got out and started walking.
Mostly eaten Healthies were strewn along the road among the cars. Some still moved but few were what could be called ambulatory. We followed a trail of blood, flesh, and other remains to the tunnel. It was barely lit by a few dim car headlights but it was well into the morning so there was sunlight a ways in. We could hear attacks echoing everywhere as we entered. Gunshots, too. Sounded like a battle was going on in there.
We continued in and began to see fires in the distance inside the tunnel. I barely had time to think of the ramifications of fire in a tunnel full of vehicles with gasoline tanks when a woman and her child, maybe 8 years old, came up to us. They looked crazed, were covered in blood, but were healthy.
“Please d-don’t eat us, just bite us! Bite us so we can come back.” She said as she swayed from side to side and twitched. “The rest of our family are, are in there. They turned on us and t-tried to kill us. We want to change so we can be with them again. We want to be with them again!”
The child looked horrified and was crying. She continued to beg, but before I could react the group was on them. Eaten, and killed.
Pressin
g on through the dark wet tunnel, we attacked and killed any other Healthies we find. At times I would join in and eat, but mostly I kept us moving forward. My standing rule was that I wouldn’t harm the infected, and I kept to it... usually. But I really couldn’t tell who was infected and who wasn’t. There were times when we would come on a Frenzy between infected and we were compelled to join in. It was uncontrollable, I almost blacked out at times from the intensity.
Time seemed to stretch on; days, a week maybe, went by in there, I don’t know. The farther we got the less life, animate or reanimate, we saw. We had completed the descent down and were headed up the road to the surface. And then I smelled them. Past the fires and the corpses. I smelled Healthies. We got close enough to see they were National Guardsmen. Three of them had taken positions and were shooting and killing infected. They must have been trapped in there and were fighting their way out towards Norfolk because their backs were toward us.
I stopped the group before they noticed us; we hid and watched. They would fire 5 shots, and then move forward. 5 shots, move forward. I counted it off. It was rhythmic. So I began to advance right as they fired so they wouldn’t hear us. I would walk toward them for 5 shots and stop. Then repeat. The others picked up on it. It didn’t take long and we were upon them. We took down two, but one got away.
Het Madden, A Zombie Perspective: Book One: WRATH 2012 (Volume 1) Page 3
