by Jack Wallen
As the tears dripped and dropped onto the street beneath me, my thoughts turned from the dead baby below me to the living one inside me. Did Jacob pass along corrupted chromosomes into my womb? Is there a moaner or screamer gestating inside of me?
Whatever it was, I wanted to take a knife and slice it out. The thought of giving birth to yet another strain of beast made me want to die.
The distant sounds of screamers pulled me out of my self-inflicted bout of sorrow. I had to locate food and get back to the group. Once back in the safety of the hospital I can chat with Jean about my options. Maybe there is a chance that whatever is growing inside my womb is clean and I can give birth to a new generation of hope, instead of yet another of the undead.
My feet took off in what seemed like a random direction, but soon it became clear my mind had something to do with the choice. Not only had I regained my bearings, there was also a glorious grocery mart standing directly in front of me.
The store hadn’t been looted, which is both good and bad. Good for us, in that there is plenty of food to be had. But knowing no one had touched the place meant there were few survivors in the area. The fewer survivors the more undead there would be waiting to devour the living.
Again, the distant screams filled the area to announce impending doom. I had to grab as much as possible and get the hell out. Filling a backpack full of quality food is not nearly as challenging in France as it is back in the States. Bread, cheese, fruits, peanut butter, trail mix, nuts – it was like any health food store I had ever visited, only this time the price didn’t affect my ability to pay the rent.
When the pack was stuffed to near explosion, I quickly zipped it shut and hoisted it onto my back. As soon as I stepped outside my eyes happened upon what might be the sweetest sight I had seen in a while: a bicycle. It was the perfect form of transportation, given the circumstances; faster than walking or running, silent, didn’t rely on fuel – what more could a person ask for in a post-apocalyptic world?
Fortune smiled upon me one more time. The bicycle was not chained. The efficient machine would carry me quickly away from undead square back to the hospital. With the weight of the pack throwing off my center of gravity, I nearly tumbled to the ground swinging my leg over the bike. After an awkward moment of getting started, I was peddling down the street, toward the hospital. Had there not been the fear-inducing sounds of screamers growing ever-closer, I would have been laughing and singing as I pedaled my way back.
The bicycle must have been someone’s primary mode of transportation. Not knowing much about bikes, I could still draw the conclusion the bike was well kept and not your average off the rack purchase. Even with the awkward weight of the pack throwing me off, the bike still handled like a dream. I was flying through the streets, the sounds of the undead receding in the background. My plan was actually going to work! I was going to make it back, food in hand, to save the day.
When the hospital came into sight, I immediately saw Jean standing behind the glass of the entryway, his arms folded in front of him. When I got closer, I could see the consternation on his face. I had hoped Michelle or Mikka would have passed on my plan to everyone. I may have been wrong.
Just as I was about to carefully swing my leg over my bike I heard the sound of a screamer, fast approaching, from behind me.
“Bethany! Get inside!” Gunther was holding the main door open for me, gesturing me to hurry.
In the middle of swinging my foot over I lost my balance and went down. The next thing I heard was Gunther yelling, the zombie screaming, and a gunshot. When the last echoes of the gunshot faded away, Gunther was pulling me up by my arm and helping me into the hospital.
“Where were you?” Gunther asked half concerned, half angry.
I have to admit I was hoping everyone would rejoice in seeing me return with a sack full of food. I never expected to have disappointed anyone. Instead, everyone had to dig in a little berating for my leaving alone. I suppose I should understand and humbly accept the tongue lashing. After all, it only proves they care. The disappointment did quickly subside when the gang laid eyes on the pirate-load of booty I scored. When the pack was dumped out on the table it really did look like quite a score. Lucky us.
Naturally the food had to be rationed. Judging by the looks on everyone’s face, any given member of our group would just as soon dig in and devour the entire pile in one sitting. That scale of epic mistake is one we could not endure. So rations it is.
After the food was divvied up, I pulled Jean off to the side to have a word.
“I need a huge favor,” I whispered quickly, to the point.
“Anything, Bethany.” Jean’s look was of concern, understandably so. What was the crazy chick up to?
“You need to take a look at whatever it is that’s growing inside of me and see if it looks normal.” My demand was a bit shy of loony, I admit. Hopefully my passion and persistence would alleviate any doubts of its sincerity.
A look crossed Jean’s face, either of true concern or a mocking smile; I couldn’t tell which. “Bethany, you and your baby share the same blood. If the fetus is infected then you would have already been infected. Since you show no signs, I believe it safe to say you are free from the virus.” Jean’s final statement carried a note of definitiveness.
I so badly wanted to believe the doctor, but there was something in my heart tossing a wrench of doubt into the works. God, listen to me – ‘heart’. I’m a level 27 nerd on just about every plane of existence possible. I don’t think with my heart. I think only with that rich delicacy all the hip zombies are enjoying these days. Or so I used to. Now, thanks to baby Jacob…
Shit. Did I just name a baby? This is all so very wrong. The world is no place to bring a new life into. I seriously doubt this planet will go from fucked to un-fucked in a matter of months. The amount of destruction this virus has visited on the planet will take years, maybe decades, to overcome.
“Jean, are you sure there isn’t some way there could be a zombie growing inside of me? I need to be one hundred percent sure.” My voice carried the panic that was bubbling up from my gut.
“If you are that concerned, then yes, I can run a few tests. I’ll draw some blood and amniotic fluid. And we can do a couple of scans to check the physical formation. If those tests come up clean will that clear up any doubts?” Jean’s voice was dripping with the care of a loving parent. The man gets an A+ for bedside manner.
“Now, eat something,” Jean finished.
He received no argument from me there.
As we ate, I realized how little we had chatted or learned about our newest members. As everyone was finishing their rations I decided to engage them in a little subtle recon.
“So, Michelle, Mikka…who are you? What do you do?” Going for the throat was not necessarily my usual style, but everything had been tossed on its head, so I figured why not go for the money shot right away.
Michelle and Mikka looked to one another and tossed a bit of French back and forth, before answering. “We are…you say…messengers,” Mikka spoke up first.
“Bicycle messengers,” Michelle added with an overly adorable smile.
That was certainly a good thing to know. Not only would our two newest refugees know the city better than anyone else, they were also most likely in great shape, which translated into being able to outrun moaners and screamers. That will come in handy.
“Are you married? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” This time it was Zander who asked a question. Although I was starting to trust the man, there was an undertone of creepy to his words, as if he were planning some future hook up with one of the M’s (he hadn’t stated his sexual preference and who was I to assume?).
Michelle let out a cartoonish giggle. “We are brother and sister.” The two glanced at each other and, I swear, simultaneously rolled their eyes. They were probably thinking along the lines of “Stupid Americans”. Of course, I don’t blame them. The second they said it, it was so obvious they were r
elated as they both had the same slight build, eye color, nose, lips – even their voices held a similar tone and timbre.
“How did you manage to survive?” Gunther asked.
“We were away on holiday – hiking in the Pyrenees Mountains. It was just the two of us, quite far from the city. We had no way to hear of any news, so when we finally made it back everything had changed. Everything had become so dangerous,” Michelle spoke clearly, with little unbroken English. This just gets better and better.
“We hadn’t been in town for an hour before we were attacked. Something – one of these things – almost bit Michelle. She got away from the beast, we got on our bikes, and we hid.” Mikka’s English was nearly as proper, maybe he was still suffering from some mild shock.
“We remained in hiding until we were forced out by hunger. We had little food with us and thought it best to stock up and wait out whatever disaster had struck,” Michelle added with much youthful brevity.
We all traded stories. Mikka and Michelle were happy to inform me they had heard my story on Zombie Radio and it thrilled them to be in my company. It was a wasted, but very flattering sentiment.
Taking the time to sit and relate to other humans made everyone in the group relax. In the middle of the new world cluster fuck, some downtime was about the only means of relaxation that didn’t involve either self-medication or sleep (or both). So we chatted for a good portion of the afternoon and, surprisingly enough, there was even some laughter.
I felt human again. And when Jean pulled me to the side to run the tests, I even felt like a woman. Of course it’s hard not to feel like a woman when you’re having a fetus inside of you tested to ensure it was, in fact, human. When Jean laid me on a table for the sonogram I nearly gasped. It hadn’t really dawned on me fully that I’m pregnant. Up until this point it was nothing more than a sidebar to be ignored. But, there it is, I’m pregnant. I have a living being growing inside of me and, hopefully, in a moment, this good man will verify that the baby is, in fact, one hundred percent not undead human.
“This will be a little chilly.” Jean said the words I had heard on so many television shows and movies. You never actually think you’ll be in that same situation – until you are. One minute you’re protesting for absolute freedom from the tyranny of what everyone assumes to be the American ‘dream’ and the next you’re living it.
“Jean…” A lump the size of a grapefruit instantly formed in my throat. “What do we do if this baby isn’t exactly, you know, alive?”
“Bethany, the chances of this fetus being infected and not passing that infection on to you are about as possible as me being voted sexiest man alive. It’s not going to happen.” Jean added a wink when he finished his thought. I returned the gesture with a smile.
“See that, Bethany? That is a perfectly formed fetus. This sonogram shows zero abnormalities. I’m sure the blood work will confirm these findings.”
“How much longer for that?” I felt like I was unfairly grilling the doctor.
“Maybe you should go back and join the rest of the group before they grow suspicious. We wouldn’t want them to think anything untoward is happening.” Again with the dispensing of the fatherly-like advice.
I gave Jean a hearty hug and started back toward Susan’s room. Before I could even make it a few steps down the hall, Jean was calling me back.
“Bethany, I forgot to mention – it’s almost time for a second round of vaccination on our subject. I want you with me when I administer the dose. I must warn you though, something unexpected has begun with the zombie.”
There was an ominous tone to Jean’s words. I wanted to turn and run before he could spit out the next fragment.
“The flesh around the mechanism holding the jaw shut has started to…I’m not quite sure how to say this…to rot. The skin, muscle, and tendon around the jaw, face, and neck has all begun a very rapid necrosis. It’s quite unpleasant.”
Jean’s words left me motionless. He had spoken them as if they carried no meaning. I suppose I could understand coming from a man who has probably seen enough gore and horror in the operating room to fill reels and reels of med-school documentaries – but this, this was different. This was also the first time anyone has spoken the words test and vaccination with regards to the Mengele virus – at least that I know of. And I had completely forgotten Jean had already administered the first round while I was out on my solo mission. What Jean expressed was monumental. It meant we had made gigantic progress in breaking down what seemed like an impenetrable barrier.
The warning about the rotting zombie gave center stage to the mention of the vaccination. I wanted to run back and hug Jean a second time, but I refrained. I wanted cooler, more professional heads to prevail. Besides I really didn’t want to get my hopes up and pressure Jean all in the same moment. So, instead, I smiled, nodded, and left the room with a completely renewed spring and purpose to my step. We were closer than ever to finding the cure for the common catastrophe. Things were starting to look up.
Until…
…a deafening crash and a scream assaulted my eardrums. As if running on instinct, my feet took me to Susan’s room to grab the Obliterator. As soon as I entered the room, Zander was questioning me.
“What the fuck was that?”
“What do you think? Come on, I’m going to need some help,” I hailed Zander as I reached the door to exit.
“You’re shitting me right? I’m not going anywhere near one of those things. Not with my bum leg. Besides, I thought you said that thing wasn’t working.” The coward remained seated.
“I fixed it. Now get your scared ass up and help me.” Without waiting, I flew out the door and fired up the Obliterator. I tuned the settings based on the last time I tested it against a screamer and fired it up. The sound that greeted my ears was familiar and, in some strange way, comforting.
I hit the hall running, but stopped as I reached the nurses’ station. There was no sign of the screamer. And, as if on cue, the zombie let out another wall shaking roar. I took off toward the sound, Obliterator held out well in front of me.
At the end of the hall I took a left turn and there it was, sniffing around each room. Maybe the thing smelled the remains of patients past, or its nose was on the trail of our scent, only it hadn’t figured out which room our tasty brain-snacks were in. No matter the case, as soon as the Obliterator was within earshot of the screamer the thing dropped to its knees and grabbed its ears.
“Zander! I need some help down here! And bring something to tie this bitch up!” I yelled, attempting to be heard over the screamer’s volume.
“Coming!” Zander called back, proving my pipes were still strong.
I don’t know why I allowed myself to ask a man I didn’t fully trust to help me. Add to that his current disability and I couldn’t imagine this man being of any use to me. To top it off, when Zander finally hobbled onto the scene, he nearly wet himself when he saw the monster banging its head against the floor in a vain attempt to stop the noise.
“What the fuck do you want me to do?”
“I want you to tie the thing up,” I said, motioning toward the naked undead man with my head.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen, not while that fucker is still moving.”
“Go get Jean and tell him to bring a hypo with the vaccine.” I made sure Zander knew there was no choice in the matter. “You’d better hurry, before this thing succeeds in cracking its own skull open!”
I couldn’t believe what I’d just said. I should have been happy to see the zombie dribbling its skull off the tile, but we really needed a different test subject. As proud as I was that we managed to bring down the meat puppet, how exactly would we feel if the vaccination turned out to be a cure, only our cure healed a man who no longer had a face?
Jean came to the scene and zipped past me.
“Bethany, we cannot continue with this. We must save the sedative, you know that.” After stating the obvious, the doctor plunged
the hypo into the shoulder of the zombie. After about ten or so more head bangs, the thing fell to the floor unconscious.
“We have to find another way of keeping this thing silent. I will not waste another round of sedative. Zander, help me tie it up. Bethany, continue with the sound until we are sure this beast is secure,” Jean commanded.
Zander grabbed everything he could to tie up our new specimen as I focused the Obliterator near the thing’s head. One of the most eerie sights I have seen yet, and one that will more than likely follow me into dreamland tonight, was this undead man staring at my device with the fear of death in its eyes.
The. Fear. Of. Death.
It’s official…nothing can shock me now.
“And what are we to do with this one Bethany? You want to start a collection?” Jean looked at me, full concern burrowing into his brow.
“Jean, you know we can’t keep the other subject.”
“Bethany –“
“It failed, Jean.”
It seemed my proclamation was meant to rest squarely on the shoulders of our doctor. It wasn’t and I felt like complete shit for letting the words ride out of my mouth in such a tone. Before my brain could comprehend what was happening, my arms were wrapped around Jean’s shoulders. After a brief pause he responded in kind.
There are certain moments that will always stand out to me with regards to the apocalypse. This brief moment will certainly be one of them. Why this? Simple. Up to this point, everything having to do with zombies has been one helluva-fucking challenge after another. This moment, for whatever reason, came all too easy. I could, of course, read into the event and think that maybe it was some sort of calm before the storm. But no, I wanted to just believe everything fell into place at the perfect time and all was starting to fit together as it should. And why shouldn’t I believe that? My baby was healthy, we have a vaccine to test, and now we have the perfect specimen on which to test it.
