Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology

by Suzanne Robb

  First, the daddy puts his you-know-what, you-know-where. Then the mommy zombie puts her hands on the you-should-know-what. Then the pair twist, and the brains are ready for eating. The only detractor to this is that the you-know-what likes to scream and shout and try to knock your head off, or worse, has a shotgun. This makes their decapitation and consumption of their organs difficult.

  What, you didn't think they had sex, did you?"

  - 'Understanding our Reanimated Brethren' by Andrew Walters, PhD (Anthropology)

  Irreverent and often light-hearted, Andrew Walters, long time Zombie activist and current spokesman for ZAPT (Zombies Are People Too), takes an in depth look at the present state of zombie affairs in the United States. Having been considered obsessive and extreme in his research during the 1990s, those traits seem to serve him well in his new pro-zombie position, where extreme emotions and actions are commonplace. While he has many followers, there remains a large population in this country who are strictly against the ever-growing rights of zombies in the U.S.

  I had the chance to meet and speak with people from both sides for this exclusive 'anniversary' retrospective. For two days, I met with Walters at his research camp outside containment zone forty-nine, which was the city of Seattle until six years ago, after the last human survivors were evacuated and it was declared a Zombie Zone by the then new zombie legislation. His camp currently consists of several trailers and a lot of equipment, not all of which is he willing to explain to me, citing that "results are more important than technique."

  "As a country, we are blessed with many enlightened, compassionate people," Walters told me while we sat in his trailer. "People who are able to look past the present into what the future of science can be." He was reviewing the latest tracking from the Seattle zone, trying to see if there was any discernible pattern to zombie movements. As he reveals in his book, each containment area shows different patterns, leading to the idea that there is an environmental influence on the zombie population. Walters' current research seeks to prove that hypothesis and, if able to do so, try to find causes behind it.

  "It is possible to contain the threat without killing, with a little effort and compassion," Walters says. "It is sad to see that so many people lose sight of the fact that these zombies are our friends, our co-workers, and our loved ones. We shouldn't be looking for ways to kill them, but for ways to help and understand them."

  I immediately questioned him regarding the concerns of the anti-zombie groups, who say that zombies are too big a threat to safely contain.

  Walters is fervent in his beliefs. When I asked the question, he banged his fist on his desk and laughed. "That is precisely what I'm saying, though!" he went on. "The threat can be controlled, so long as we contain the areas and act wisely. We've found ways to do that. There is no reason to execute the poor creatures when we can learn more about them."

  I asked him if it was the belief of ZAPT that we could possibly bring them back; make them the way they were. He smiles sadly. "No, we don't believe that," he says. "But just because we cannot have them back as they were does not mean that they deserve to die a second time. They are simply a new species." His eyes light up with excitement. "Think about it. When those two pilots didn't alert the ground at LAX before landing about the situation in their plane, they were bringing in the next scientific advancement: a new species!"

  I pointed out that it also caused years worth of mayhem and devastation. He waves a hand at this. "Mayhem and devastation have been happening for years, but it's never before brought a new species."

  After our conversation, I was permitted the rare chance of going to the observation posts that Walters and his team have in place around the containment area. These structures are only ten feet off the ground, but the entrances into them are secure and thorough.

  From the post, it's possible to see into the containment area. I was able to see several clumps of zombies as they dredged slowly through the zone, often colliding with one another and then moving on without having noticed.

  To see into the center of the area, the watch posts that surround the perimeter connect to surveillance cameras deeper inside.

  "Occasionally we do lose a camera," Walters answers my question. "But we have a trained team that works with a helicopter that ZAPT owns. We have to use it sparingly because of the fuel shortages following the 2016 outbreaks in the Middle East, but our team is highly trained and able to work with record time. Cameras have been positioned high enough to do this in relative safety, despite the appetite of the subjects on the ground. It's just like observing any sort of wild animal in its natural habitat."

  "But that natural habitat used to be peoples' homes," I point out. Walters just shrugs and smiles. "Sacrifices sometimes have to be made to do something important, and I think the study of a new species, and preventing the further death of our loved ones, are noble causes."

  Three days later, I had the chance to meet with Jim Colton, one of the most vocal anti-zombie proponents. Colton's military expertise was called upon frequently during the early outbreaks. Despite the pro-zombie legislation of the past few years, he continues to develop new and more effective methods of killing zombies. He is based near Houston, Texas, which along with the rest of the state remains a zombie-free zone.

  "Damn hippies," Colton mutters as he fires one of his personally modified handguns at a target on the other side of the lawn. "Those creatures aren't anything to us anymore but a threat. I don't care what Mister Doctor Idiot says, they are not like anything. They are adverse to nature and are simply a threat to all of us with no purpose for anything; a plague. They should be put down, all of them." He fires another shot, as if putting a period on his statement.

  I pointed out Walters' primary point about the proof that these zombies are the reanimated bodies of our loved ones. Colton snorts. "That's just the damn point," he mutters as he reloads. "The reanimated bodies of these people; they're just the bodies. They don't have the souls in there; just a damned hunger." He holds up a bullet to show me. "Fifty caliber hollow point," he says. "The key is always to hit the head. You have to destroy brain tissue to put the thing down." He sighs, taking sight again. "At least the law hasn't moved into our properties and we can still kill them if they come after us. I think they should make those containment areas into hunting fields, but the bleeding hearts got their claws in the law-makers over the wandering corpses and we're kept out of those 'preserves'... 'preserve' my ass. It's a disaster waiting to happen, again."

  After several more rounds, we walk into the house of the massive, sprawling compound that Colton and a large group of like-minded people have built. It's as much a fortress as a home, with cement walls surrounding the property and only a single entrance, which is barred by tall steel fences. A defensible guard house sits right outside the gates, which requires an 'infection inspection' of all incoming guests.

  This hundred acre compound is also working farm and produces almost all of the residents' food and the water comes from several wells on the property, which is treated on site before consumption.

  "To look at this the way Walters does," Colton goes on, "is to be very short sighted about it all. Yes, I know that it's been proven about these being the reanimated bodies of people we once knew, but that's all they are and they won't stay in these... containment areas forever. These creatures are mindless and soulless. They have only one thing in mind and that's to feed. Most wild animals that you can cage the way Walters cages these zombies have drives other than to eat: they want to live, they play, they sleep, they breed. If you electrify a fence, they'll stay away from it. That's not the case with zombies. They'll shamble into it over and over, or just plain stick to it, like a fly on fly paper... getting zapped like bugs on a bug zapper, but they don't care, and they do nothing but wander and eat. There's just not anything there any more."

  I ask him about the idea of scientific value of zombie study. His snort is derisive. "I don't get that, I really don't. To what end? The
only sort of research should be about how to kill them and find a better way to protect ourselves! Is this Walters researching anything about the outbreak itself, or how to keep it from happening again? The day will come when these zombies break out and everyone like Walters, who hasn't really protected himself, is going to end up inside his own damn research. You can count on that." He pauses. "Think about it. Damn near half of this country is now made up of containment zones; half of the country!" Pausing, he shakes his head. When I point out that the containment areas have worked so far and we've seen no new break outs since early 2020, he snorts again. "It won't last. It can't possibly."

  He looks out the window. "I wonder if those two pilots coming into LAX hadn't been such damn cowards and had told the ground, let themselves be shot down and the zombies inside incinerated, if we could have avoided all of this."

  Ten years later and the country is strictly divided into two extremes. Half the country remains firmly with Colton's opinion and is passionately against the control ZAPT has over the new congress in Maryland (following the outbreak on the Senate floor in 2014). They maintain their defenses by any means they have. Meanwhile, the other half gives in to what Colton calls "ignorant sentimentality" and what Walters calls "enlightened compassion" and align with ZAPT.

  With Mexico over-run and Canada having closed its borders to us because of the pro-zombie legislation, we remain on our own. Whether the country will ever unite under one line of thought will only be seen in time. For now, the United States seems to be maintaining the status quo and allowing at least half of its people to recover, although no one can still conclusively state the source of the illness or poison that started and perpetuates the zombie affliction. Walters' book does not address this, instead focusing on ways to live with zombies today, rather than be tied to the past. Neither side seems ready to bend on their opinions of zombies, or of each other. It seems that only time will tell what will come of the next ten years.

  "One thing you may not have thought of," Colton points out towards the end of our interview and of my tour, "is the number of zombies in these containment areas. If you read the reports that come out of the scientific groups that work with Walters but not for him, the few that there are, you will see some interesting things." At my uncertain look, he smirks. "Yes, I read the reports and I read that book of his, and I notice things. You know where zombies come from. So how do you think Walters keeps his zombie numbers so high - even going up at times, or at least not going down from their cannibalism? Think about that."

  Lynn Morris has been writing for New World magazine since 2017, when the television station she worked at became part of the New York City containment area.

  FLORENCE'S DIARY

  Adam Millard

  Today was a good day. I went to the end of the farm for the very first time, which was really nice as Robbie chased me. He's a good dog, and my best friend in the whole world. I think he enjoyed it almost as much as I did. I had no idea that there were cherry-trees at the bottom, by the old shed. I ate one. It was tasty; not too sweet, but not bitter either. I might take a basket tomorrow and gather some more. I don't think Daddy will mind.

  After playing at the bottom of the farm, Mommy took me into town. We went to Old Sam's for some bread, and then Mommy said she needed to get Daddy a present for his birthday, which is in six days time. I waited outside the store where she bought Daddy's present from. “It's for grown-ups only,' she told me out on the street. “I'll be a few minutes. Don't go off wand'ring.”

  I didn't. I stood outside like a good girl, watching the horses go by. I love to watch the horses. Daddy says that when I'm a little bit bigger he'll teach me how to ride one. I can't wait until I'm a bit bigger. I will have my own horse, and my own shop where I'll sell sweets. I'm going to call it Florence's Fancies. I think that is a really good name for a shop.

  When Mommy came out of the shop, she was carrying Daddy's present, but it was already wrapped in paper so I couldn't see what it was. When I asked her, she told me that it was something that Daddy had wanted for a very long time. I wonder if it's a new shovel.

  For tea today I had chicken stew and the bread that we got from Old Sam's. It was really nice. I hope there is some bread left over for tomorrow. Well, that is all I need to write today. I'm going to bed now. Robbie looks sleepy, too.

  Goodnight.

  Daddy is taking me to work today. He told me to be on my best behaviour because Mr McGregor will be watching him, although I don't know why. Maybe Mr McGregor is going to give Daddy a pay-rise. I hope so; we could have fresh bread every night. I am wearing my old clothes today because Daddy told me that it gets really dirty down at the mineshaft. I can't wait; I love to get dirty.

  Oh, I have to go now. Daddy is calling me. Be back later.

  *

  Had a great day with Daddy at the mine today. Mr McGregor was watching my Daddy again. I am almost certain that he will get more money soon. When we got home, Mommy had made a cake. The kitchen smelled beautiful. I love that smell. For dinner we had beef and potatoes, and some of the cake. I am so full I think I'm going to explode.

  Mommy says that if I am a good girl tomorrow, she will take me and Robbie to the fair. It's only on for two more days, so I had better behave myself. If we go to the fair, I want to win a goldfish. I will love him, but not as much as Robbie.

  I'm going to sleep now. My eyes keep closing.

  Goodnight.

  Guess what? I was really good this morning so I got to go to the fair, just like Mommy promised. It was amazing. I won a dolly on the hook-a-duck, but I didn't get a goldfish. It's a good job really. Robbie would have got really jealous.

  I had some cotton-candy, which was pink, and it tasted really nice. Mommy only let me have a little bit, though. She said, “If you eat all of that you'll be up all night.” I won't be up all night, will I? I would be too tired. After eating some of the cotton-candy, Mommy took me on the Dark Ride. It was really scary. Robbie was really lucky that he wasn't allowed on; it would have scared him too. We tied him to a tree while we went on the ride; he looked really disappointed. Poor Robbie.

  There were lots of shows on at the fair. Even Sheriff Colman was there with his wife, and they were both on horses. I want a horse so much now. It will be the best present ever. The Sheriff's wife is beautiful. She has long red hair, all the way down her back, and when she smiles she looks like a princess. When I am older, I want to marry a Sheriff. I am only nine and a half at the moment, though, so I have to wait a little bit longer before I am allowed to get married. Daddy says that it will be over his dead body; I'm not sure what that means.

  While we were at the fair, a man bit another man on the shoulder. I couldn't believe it. I've never seen anything like it. It happened right next to the freak show tent – which I thought was funny but Mommy said was disgusting. The man was just walking past when the other man jumped on his back and bit him. I think he must have been angry for some reason; maybe he owed the man some money. Daddy says that if he did, he was lucky to get away with a bite.

  After that, we came home. I played with Robbie at the bottom of the farm for a while. He seems happy; glad he isn't too upset with me for tying him to that tree.

  For tea we had vegetable soup. It was nice, but a bit runny. Mommy said it was meant to be like that, but Daddy said he pisses thicker.

  I'm in bed writing this, and I can hear Mommy and Daddy talking about the man who got bit at the fair. I'm going to sleep now. It's been a really good day.

  I have home-school today with Mrs Drewery. She's quite nice, but her breath smells a bit strange, the way Daddy's does when he's been to the Saloon. I couldn't imagine Mrs Drewery in the Saloon, so it must be from something else.

  I hope she doesn't try to teach me numbers again; I'm really good at them, it's just that sometimes she goes on and on and I just want to tell her to shut up. I can't, though. That would make her angry, and she would tell Mommy and Daddy that I was rude to her.

  Mrs Drewe
ry doesn't have a horse; she comes to the farm on a bicycle, which doesn't suit her at all. Sometimes, when I watch her coming down the path, I laugh because she's all over the place. I would laugh even more if she fell off. Hah, right into the chicken-poo.

  Anyway, I'm going to get ready for lessons. Mommy says that people who are late should be hanged in the square like the rest of the outlaws, which I think is a bit harsh.

  Mrs Drewery has gone now, on her bicycle as usual. She seemed to smell even worse today. I asked her if she had been eating anything funny and she just gave me a funny look. I think that means yes.

  After lesson, she went into the kitchen to talk to my Mommy. I listened because I thought she was going to tell Mommy that I had been rude asking her about her breath, but she didn't. She said to Mommy, “Eight people now, all of them are at the jail. I think they just went crazy.” I don't know what she's talking about, but it sounds really interesting. Mommy told her that it was probably just something going around, or something in the water, but I don't think Mrs Drewery believed her.

  After she left, I asked Mommy what was happening in town, and she told me to mind my own business. I think that she looked a little bit worried, though. I can always tell when Mommy is worried; her eyebrows tremble ever so slightly.

  Anyway, I am going to play for a while. Daddy will be home soon. Maybe he will tell me what is going on in town.

  I hurt my knee playing. It really stings now. Mommy says that it doesn't look infected, but it does to me. There was a lot of blood, and still Mommy said it was just a scratch. Sometimes I think grown-ups like to put a brave spin on everything. If it was Mommy's knee I bet she would feel differently.