Year of the Zombie [Anthology]

by David Moody

  Reading the files of the inmates being supplied had helped her come to peace with her decision. They were the worst that society had to offer. Getting rid of them, she rationalized, made the planet a better place. The fact that she could profit from it, and handily, only made it that much better. She truly felt as if she was providing the world a service. Add to that she was able to buy that red Mercedes coupe she’d been eyeing for years with cash.

  For obvious reasons, the advertising had been kept low-key; most of their business came through word-of-mouth referrals. They’d not had any problems until Milton Lassiter posted that picture of himself with his kill to his Facebook page. The image had gone viral, although the vast majority discounted it as a prank. That was until Molinda Featherspike had come forward claiming that the ‘kill’ in this picture was her brother Grender. He’d been falsely accused of drug trafficking and sent to prison only a month before. She wrote a passionate blog post about how prison officials had told her that Grender had died in a prisoner uprising. She hadn’t believed it then and certainly would not believe it now.

  From that point forward, Z-Hunt did not allow cameras on their property, but the damage had been done. Word had gotten out about what kind of safaris they were running there, and, true to human nature, as public outcry against them increased, so also did their business.

  FOUR

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your safety briefing,’ Zurgens said to the group. There were three men from the United States and a newlywed couple from Australia.

  ‘Can we get on with this? We just flew half way around the world to this shithole, it’s hot as balls, and I want to shoot some zombies.’

  Zurgens looked down at a sheet he was holding, then at the loudmouthed man. ‘Jenkins? James Jenkins?’ The man nodded, took off his hat and wiped his brow. Zurgens stepped closer to him. ‘You interrupt my briefing one more time and I’ll kick your Yankee ass out of here.’

  ‘What? You can’t do that! You’re just a glorified babysitter.’

  ‘It’s always the Americans. I don’t know why you people think you are above the rest of the world’s inhabitants. This is the last time I say it. I have your deposit in my pocket. It is completely within my rights to hand it back to you, or not, and tell you to fuck off. Now I haven’t told YOU yet,’ Zurgens pointed aggressively and continued to do so, ‘to fuck off, but I’m this close. Do you wish to stay on this hunt?’

  Jenkins sized up the German guide with an expression that was a cross between wanting to scream a string of obscenities and the fear that he would lose out on his life-long dream to survive a zombie apocalypse. Zurgens didn’t look like the type to back down, so he reluctantly nodded his capitulation.

  ‘I’ve got a feeling you’re not finished yet, but for now it looks like we understand one another. May I continue?’

  ‘Please do,’ Carla Weatherford said. She was of the renowned Weatherford family in Southern Australia where their vast estate lay. Her husband, Samuel, was a small man—at least in comparison to his robust wife. He looked like he was withering under the early morning sun and would have preferred to be anywhere but here. There was no doubt in Zurgens’ mind that Carla had dragged his reluctant ass the entire three thousand miles to get there.

  ‘Let’s start this again, shall we?’ Zurgens cleared his throat and tried to regain his enthusiasm. ‘Welcome to Z-Hunt, the most unique and challenging safari you will ever find yourselves on.’

  Jenkins was still pissed but he could not help giving a small clap. ‘Not sarcasm—I swear. Just... excited.’

  ‘I have reviewed all of your applications. Each of you has hunted extensively across the entire globe. You can take everything you have learned from those previous expeditions and toss it all out the window. Every one of those animals you shot was doing its best to hide from you, in fact, to avoid you at all costs. The zombies at Z-Hunt will do the exact opposite. They actively seek people. They want to kill you, and not only kill, they want to feed. You are their prey, and make no mistake about it, if you are not cautious, you will end up on a dinner plate.’

  There was some snickering among the Americans.

  ‘I wonder if they’re into junk food.’ Henry Fields lightly threw an elbow into his friend, Darren Wheats’ample midsection.

  ‘I can tell you from personal experience, they do not care what, or whom they eat,’ Zurgens said, quickly shouting down the banter.

  Samuel meekly raised his hand above his head.

  ‘Mr Weatherford, you have a question?’

  ‘Get a load of this nimrod,’ Jenkins said to his friends. They all laughed.

  ‘Is there any truth to the, um... reports?’ Mr Weatherford asked.

  ‘There are many reports on a vast array of topics. Could you be more specific please?’ Zurgens asked.

  ‘That these, ah, targets, are innocent men wrongly convicted of crimes then told that if they can survive these….err, hunts, they will be allowed to go free?’

  ‘First of all, these are not convicts. They are individuals from the Nabinzi tribe who have contracted a rare and incurable disease, most likely from a highly infectious fungus. We believe it to be the same microbe that’s responsible for the creation of zombie ants.’

  ‘Wait,’ Jenkins said. ‘I’ve seen that show... with those ants, I mean. Fungus gets in them ants, takes over. Makes the ant go back into the hill where this weird growth comes out of its head and eventually explodes, spraying millions of spores into the air, infecting the rest of the colony. Got to the point where the ants could recognize the symptoms and would drag an infected ant far away. Hold on... are we in any danger of catching this? I want to shoot zombies—not turn into one.’

  There was some general murmurs of discomfort among the group at the prospect of breathing in infected spores.

  ‘I can assure you, that while there are some similarities, this virus does not spread through the air. Much like rabies, it can only be transferred through being bitten. Which leads me to one of my talking points. We will do all within our power to keep you safe during your visit here, but that can only be achieved if you cooperate and help us. It is imperative that you do as we say, without question or reservation. The zombies are dangerous. They will definitely kill you without remorse, if given the chance. The creature we are hunting looks very much like a person, especially from far away. And our statistics show that two out of the five of you, about forty percent of our guests, will hesitate before shooting, if they shoot at all.’

  ‘I’m not going to hesitate. Me or them—I’ll blow them all away,’ Jenkins boasted.

  ‘You really have a difficult time keeping your mouth shut,’ Zurgens said.

  ‘You have no idea,’ Henry said. ‘Been like this since the first damn grade.’

  ‘Same rules apply from your other hunts, folks. Completely identify beyond any doubt what you are shooting at. None of us want to kill someone’s family pet, or worse, a family member.’

  ‘You just got through telling us that forty percent of us will hesitate before killing a zombie, then you throw out that we might shoot a kid! What the hell?’

  Zurgens rubbed his forehead. With the growing heat and this idiotic clientele, even his considerable salary was looking questionable. ‘What I am telling you, is to be cautious. This isn’t a game. There will be no doubt in your mind when you shoot a zombie, and there shouldn’t be any random people wandering about this range. But accidents happen. The extra second you take to positively identify your target could save you a lifetime of regret. Trust me, the zombie isn’t going to get away by hiding in the bush; he’ll keep coming your way.’

  There was some nervous tittering.

  ‘You keep saying ‘he’ when you refer to the zombies. Aren’t there any chicks?’ Jenkins asked.

  ‘For a reason medical professionals have not been able to identify, the virus does not affect females or children; it’s as if they have some sort of natural immunity.’

  ‘Oh, that is good news,
’ Carla said. ‘I feel safer already.’

  ‘I said women can’t get infected. That won’t stop the males from devouring you, Mrs Weatherford.’

  She blanched at the thought.

  ‘Crap. I really wanted to bag a matched set... maybe even a kid. A whole damn zombie family even.’

  Zurgens looked at the man. He understood it was a special breed of person that came on these hunts, but this one was pushing an already over-extended envelope. ‘Perhaps if the virus mutates, you will get your wish and can return.’

  ‘Return? Hell no. By then, the world will have been overrun and me and my friends will be sitting pretty at Bunker Hill,’ Jenkins said.

  ‘He named his basement,’ Darren informed everyone.

  ‘It’s not just a basement, dipshit. It’s our base. We’ll be rebuilding civilization from there.’

  Oh God, I hope not, Zurgens thought. ‘I would imagine it will be difficult with three men,’ he said aloud. That got some hearty laughs from everyone except Jenkins.

  ‘I’m married.’ Jenkins said.

  ‘I’m sure she’s a beautiful woman, and probably didn’t even cost much, but I can assure you, there will be no cause to stage a civilization reboot from your cellar. That is part of the reason the government of Botswana has allowed you to be here. To make sure that does not become necessary.’

  Jenkins’ face had turned red; he’d pushed the man as far as he wanted to, at least for now.

  ‘Come on everybody, get atop the vehicle.’ He led Mrs Weatherford to the ladder and assisted her up, although her husband needed more of a hand than she did. Once they were all settled into the special hunting perch, Zurgens called up, ‘Everyone buckled in? I don’t want anybody to fall out, especially if we have to escape quickly. I will not be turning around.’ He heard four seat belt clicks.

  ‘I have a question,’ Jenkins said.

  ‘Of course you do.’ Zurgens’ head hung down for a moment.

  ‘Are these zombies slow or fast?’

  ‘I am positive, Mr Jenkins, that they run faster than you do.’ Zurgens smiled when he heard that fifth buckle click. Zurgens told his brother Karl, the driver, to start the engine and, as planned, just as the engine turned over, an alarm sounded over the camp public address system and was immediately followed by a transmission.

  At first, there was static, then the sound of machine gun fire in the background. ‘Help! This is Major Tom Ritter—we are taking heavy casualties. We are pinned down at these coordinates.’ He rattled off some longitude and latitude points which Zurgens dutifully seemed to be annotating. The five passengers atop were watching his every move, not sure if this was part of the hunt, or an actual emergency, but enjoying it nonetheless. ‘Zombies are everywhere... we are in extreme danger of being...’ There was an ear piercing scream, heavy bursts of machine gun fire, then more static, and finally a silence that dominated above all else.

  ‘Folks, I’m sorry,’ Zurgens said to the passengers. ‘Saving these men takes precedence over our hunt. We will lend them all the assistance we can to help them escape the zombie attack. Let’s roll,’ he told his driver as he climbed into the passenger seat. Karl turned the truck around as if they were going in a completely different direction from their original route.

  ‘Is this real?’ Mr Weatherford excitedly asked those around him.

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. What I do know is I’m finally going to get some,’ Jenkins said as he rubbed the side of his hunting rifle.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re really going to do this,’ Henry said. ‘All those times playing zombie vids... I figured that was going to be the best we could ever hope for.’

  ‘How many times did you die playing those games, Henry?’ Darren asked.

  Henry got quiet before answering. ‘More times than I care to admit. But it can’t be that intense, can it? I mean, if all the hunters that ever came down here died, there’d be some sort of outcry, right? I mean, we’d have heard about it.’

  ‘Who’d be left to tell?’ Darren was smiling.

  ‘You’re an asshole,’ Henry replied.

  ‘Look!’ Carla was pointing off into the distance. ‘A fire!’

  ‘Well, certainly smoke,’ Samuel said.

  ◆◆◆

  ‘Zurgens, this is Jan, please pick up the radio.’

  ‘Whom did she think I would think it was?’ Zurgens asked Karl. ‘Go ahead... Jan.’ He picked up the microphone.

  ‘There’s a problem with the batch of zombies we put out today; you’re going to need to divert your hunters.’

  ‘Problem? How so?’

  There was a long pause. The radio was encrypted and of rather short range, but Jan was still hesitant to give too much information over the airwaves. Zurgens was fully aware of how their enterprise worked, and he couldn’t have cared less where their zombies came from. The Reynolds were paying him triple what he could normally expect as a field guide, and no matter what he told the naive clients, there was minimum danger as far as he was concerned. He always knew where the zombies were going to be, unlike wild animals, which had never had the courtesy to cooperate with his plans.

  ‘The ahh, ‘compound’ was too... weak,’ Jan said as cryptically as she could.

  ‘Shit.’ Zurgens knew what that meant. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. There were a variety of reasons for a failed batch, contamination, the serum weakened by being exposed to heat or cold, the hosts rejecting their injections... much could go wrong. Didn’t matter. All he knew was that they were currently heading towards a group of very definitely not-zombies. Luckily, when it had happened before, the clients atop the truck had been entirely too trigger happy to give a shit what they were shooting at. ‘This group is not going to take turning around too lightly.’

  ‘I don’t care, Zurgens. They can not roll up on what is going on out there.’

  Zurgens tapped his driver on the shoulder and spun his finger in the air signifying to turn around. Karl looked at him questioningly for a second then shrugged and did as he was told. He was also paid good money to shuttle the rich assholes around; he’d do nothing to jeopardize that.

  ‘Hey, what the fuck!?’ came from behind and above.

  ‘Jenkins,’ Zurgens said through gritted teeth. ‘I wish he were a fucking zombie, I’d shoot him myself.

  Karl laughed. ‘Ya.’

  ‘You think we’d get in trouble if we just dropped these shit birds off here?’

  ‘Ya.’

  ‘Why are we turning around?!’ There was more grumbling from the passengers.

  Zurgens had Karl pull over. ‘I’m sorry folks, he said as he climbed out of the truck. We’ve been informed that the situation is entirely too dangerous. The military personnel have been completely overrun.’

  ‘That’s all the more reason we should be heading that way!’ Jenkins said. His friends nodded their heads in unison.

  ‘We could help them,’ Henry added.

  ‘It’s far too late for that,’ Zurgens informed them.

  ‘You’re telling me we can’t get two hundred yards from the damn zombies and just start blasting them away?’ Jenkins asked.

  ‘I have been informed from command that the situation is entirely too volatile. Your safety is of my utmost concern. I cannot endanger lives as important as yours.’ Zurgens almost coughed when he said that last part. But he knew well that the rich tended to believe in their own self-importance and the best way to appease them would be to use their arrogance against them. Feed them what they wanted to hear, then offer booze. ‘We are going to call in more military personnel to bring the situation under control. We will resume our hunt tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  Let the grousing begin, Zurgens thought sourly. And it did, even browbeaten Samuel got in on the bellyaching. Zurgens let it go on for ten minutes or so, nodding at the appropriate times as they vented. ‘Listen folks, we’ll be back out tomorrow. In the meantime, we’ll return to camp where you can eat and drin
k on the management’s bill to your heart’s content.’ He knew Jan would not be too thrilled with his generosity, but she wasn’t out here dealing with these jackasses. A couple of hundred in expensed bar tab was infinitely better than the bad PR these people could generate if they left this place with a sour taste in their mouths.

  ‘Free food?’ Darren asked.

  ‘There’s booze flowing and all Darren can think about is finger foods,’ Henry said. The group eased up and even laughed a little. That changed the mood for the better; Zurgens was not about to wait for it to change back. He climbed in the truck and had Karl drive to the command center.

  ‘Jan we’re heading back in, you might want to get the wait staff hopping and lay out some food. And, oh yeah, I told them the bar was open.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Jan said before clicking off.

  ‘Must be a fuck-fest out there,’ Zurgens said to Karl. ‘She didn’t give me any shit about the alcohol.’

  ‘Ya,’ Karl said.

  FIVE

  Within a couple of hours, the guests were full and speeding quickly to a full blown buzz, especially the Americans, who had even taken the usually quiet Samuel under their wing. The small man had become extraordinarily loud and boisterous. His wife seemed to like the take-charge change in her husband, judging by the way she was rubbing herself suggestively all over him.