My Zombie My (I Zombie)

by Jack Wallen

  I assumed, by uninfected, Jean meant one of us.

  “That is the nature of a vaccination,” he explained. “It is mean to prevent, not cure. What I gave Mikka will most likely not rid him of the damage that has been done. It might lesson the effects and prevent further damage, but what is done to that young man is done.”

  Of course the implications of what Jean had just said did not fall on deaf ears. My little zombie, terrorizing the empty halls of our current hideaway, seemed to now be without hope. That would not prevent me from capturing the girl and administering the serum. We had to at least try. Giving up at this point would be like spitting Jacob’s grave. I will do no such thing.

  “Who do you suggest we use as our guinea pig?” I was sure Jean could sense the sarcasm in my voice as I laid it on extra thick.

  Just as Jean was about to answer my snarky question, Gunther burst into the room. “We have a problem.” Judging from the look on his face, said problem was serious.

  “The noise Susan is making is starting to attract some most unwanted attention,” Gunther said, breathing hard as if he were afraid. In the weeks I have known the man, the one thing I haven’t seen from him was fear.

  This was bad.

  With the door to our room standing open, it was easy to hear Susan’s screeching echoing off the slate and marble of the building. The echo multiplied the sound so it seemed a dozen or so screamers were running loose inside the building. The inhuman noise started to echo inside my head. The effect tied my stomach and my nerves into knots no Boy Scout could ever undo.

  “What do we do?” Michelle said, her voice coming out of nowhere.

  “We have to silence that lamb,” Zander’s spoken reference added an extra layer of horror we didn’t need or want.

  “What do you mean? I’m sorry, I realize what that girl is right now, but we will not kill her,” I said, standing rigid against what Zander proposed.

  “I understand you made some sort of promise to your dead lover, but the reality of the situation is that little girl is not a little girl anymore – she’s a screamer and screamers are dangerous. And what’s worse is all that noise she is making is attracting the attention of hundreds or maybe thousands more fucking zombies. When those monsters figure out where the noise is coming from and they break down the doors to this building, that’s it for us. So, to put it as simply as I can, if we don’t take out that little zombie of yours, the undead horde will take us out. Now, what’s your preference?” Zander made his case and made it very clearly.

  “We don’t have to kill her,” Jean insisted. “I can sedate her, which would also allow me to try the vaccine on an evolved state.”

  We all stood, staring at one another, the echoing sound of Susan’s screams still ringing loud and clear. We knew time was very limited, so we had to act fast.

  “It won’t be easy, but we can do it. We lead her into a room, pin her down, and inject her with a combination of vaccine and sedative. We’ve done it before with bigger, stronger zombies, we can do it again.”

  Once again the silence was punctuated with Susan’s screeching.

  As predicted, Gunther was the first to volunteer. “You can count me in.”

  The plan was rough, but time necessitated quick action, so our barely thought-out scheme would have to do. I would lure Susan into a room, Gunther would tackle her, and Jean would give her the injection. Jean assured us the sedative would work quickly. At least, he said, it would on a human. He could up the dosage but he was afraid of doing even more damage to Susan’s brain or heart. We agreed it would be safest just to hold her down until she was out.

  There was also the matter of testing the vaccine for its true purpose – prevention.

  We needed an uninfected subject to test the serum. It only made sense to do the testing on one of us about to wrangle the pre-teen screamer. Even though it went against my very nature to willingly inject myself with government funded drugs, I figured it might as well be me, but there was the issue of me being preggers. As much as I at one point would have vehemently objected to the idea of introducing yet another human to the population, this baby inside of me was my only connection to Jacob and I honestly started feeling a strong desire to protect it.

  Jean promised me the inoculation wouldn’t harm the baby. I wasn’t sure if his intent was only to comfort me or if his words were honest, but after his assurance he immediately began setting up the vaccination. The thought of what was about to course through my veins gave me the creeps like I’ve never had. This was fodder for horror movies for sure. The second that serum mixed with my blood, evolution was going to take a U-turn on me and another head could sprout or I could start puking acid or coughing up lung-searing, acrid smoke. Or, the possibility of me shifting was not beyond the realm of the plausible. Needless to say, fear was one commodity in abundant supply.

  “This will probably burn,” Jean said as he prepared my arm for the injection. “In fact, it will burn. You will probably suffer quite a lot of discomfort.”

  That word, suffer, made me slightly tense and very queasy.

  “How will we know if this works?” My question was valid, if not desperate.

  “When Susan bites you, and you don’t turn into one of the walking dead, we’ll know it works,” Jean stated, trying to make light of the situation. He failed.

  “Are you ready?” Jean held the needle aloft and offered a smile with an undertone of great concern.

  My not answering Jean’s question immediately should have warned him that there was no way in hell to actually be ready for such an event. A more honest question would have been ‘Can you really handle this?’ So instead, my head just slowly turned the other way, my eyes closed tight, and my shoulders rose high enough to cover my ears. The doctor took the cue and jammed the needle to the hilt. Once the plunger struck home, the molten lava began coursing through my system.

  Of all the sensations to experience, this might top them all. The burning could actually be traced by my nerves as it slowly made its way through my body. It was unsettling. No, it was damned uncomfortable. A tiny river of fire was spreading through me and there was nothing I could do but endure. It’s moments like this that I fully understand malpractice.

  I wanted to punch something, break something, do anything but sit here and wait for the volcanic cinders in my blood to cool. The best thing I could think of was to distract myself. “Come on, guys, let’s get this party started. We have a zombie to catch.”

  Gunther and Jean followed me out of the room. The second we hit the hall, the sounds of Susan bounced off the walls and into our skulls. The girl was loud. But then again, what else should we have expected from our pre-teen zombie? She’s probably just pissed because she can’t find her phone to text her BFFs (or would that be BZFs?)

  “Gunther and I will be in this room, Bethany. Make sure you give us some sort of sign, just before you reach us,” Jean instructed, holding my shoulders and looking directly into my eyes so that he could be assured I was paying close attention. “And make sure you enter the room first so you have time to get past us.”

  “Be careful, Bethany. Remember, you have a baby in there.” Gunther’s gesture was endearing, reminding me how much I needed him around. I thanked the gentle German and took off.

  “I’ll be back, zombie in tow.”

  I was returned to the screeching and screaming of my zombie ward. There was a ribbon of dread knotting my heart and my mind together. I didn’t want, even for a second, to think that we were too late to save Susan. Too late or not – we had to do everything we could.

  “Susan! Hey, Susan, over here!”

  I was feeling a rotten sense of deja vu. How many times would I wind up calling out to a zombie only to have it chase after me, so that I could ensnare and experiment on it? I hoped like fuck this was the last time.

  My voice was met with the expected roaring from the mouth of our babe.

  “That’s right, come and find me. You know you can’t resist thi
s brain.”

  Just as I thought I was close to getting Susan’s attention, a strange cracking sound filled the halls. The sound was out of place – like trees being forced over and rocks breaking in half. And then, the sound was replaced by a roar that could have only emanated from the fire-breathing mouth of Godzilla. The sound was certainly not coming from Susan.

  “Jean, Gunther…I think we have another problem!” I turned tail and ran back to what little safety the two other humans could offer. The monstrous roaring sound followed me all the way back.

  “Susan is not alone. We have another screamer inside, only this one sounds different,” I warned, out of breath.

  “Different? How?” Jean questioned.

  As if on cue, the roaring repeated itself, rattling the walls and the teeth in my head.

  “If that monster finds Susan…” Gunther’s voice trailed off, the implications obvious.

  “Bethany, we can’t continue with this plan. We have to save ourselves before we attempt –”

  “Jean, we have to save her. We have to at least try,” I pled with him, and my plea was punctuated by another unearthly roar.

  “Have you lost your mind, Bethany?” Gunther shouted. “Listen to that thing!”

  I wasn’t sure if I had finally snapped or not, but all I could think to do was try to save Susan. It was Jacob’s dying request and I had worked so hard to fulfill that promise. The very idea of losing Susan sickened me.

  I felt tears running down my cheeks; spittle was popping and bubbling out from my lips. Sobs attempted to tear apart my resolve. This moment, this tragic moment, was all I had. Jean could feel me growing ever weaker, so he grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eye.

  “We’ll save her, Bethany. We’re with you.” There was fear in Jean’s eyes, but his voice was everything I needed to be brought back to reality.

  “Gunther, are you with us?”

  “I have been the whole time, why would I stop now?”

  When we took off down the stairs, a sizable chunk of marble was thrown our way, landing close enough to me to cause me to slip and fall. That large hunk of stone was thrown at us like a football and should have been our first sign to turn back. We ignored our instincts and pressed on. Before we could even reach the first floor, the sounds of two distinct and angry screamers made it very clear things were getting primal.

  When we finally did reach the first floor, the two monsters had made first contact. It was clear Susan didn’t stand a chance against the newcomer. And by ‘newcomer’ I should stress that the term did not just apply to the locale, but also to this beast’s status on the evolutionary ladder. There was something changed, unique, about this new screamer. It wasn’t just an added dose of the same rage that burns through the heart of the other screamers, this thing seemed to have an intelligence. Most screamers just roar and rip everything apart, regardless of what it is. A typical screamer is just as likely to rip the head off a soda machine as it is a human. This one, however, was a calculating, plotting, and scheming tactician.

  This zombie was fully capable of playing dirty.

  When we first laid eyes on the two zombies they seemed to be sizing one another up. Susan would scream and the newbie would roar back. Before all hell broke loose, I added my own scream into the mix to try to draw the attention of the monster away from Susan. It didn’t work. The thing continued focusing on Susan as if nothing else existed. The two undead beasts circled one another. Susan would then roar and make a dive at the bigger screamer, but the beast simply swatted her away as if she were nothing more than a fly.

  In a desperate and vain attempt to save my Susan, I picked up a loose book from the floor and hurled it at the new monster. The book bounced off the thing’s head, doing nothing to gain its attention.

  That’s when Gunther made a tragic error. Following my lead, the German pulled out his gun, took aim, and shot the thing. His aim was off just enough to piss it off further. The massively angry zombie turned, leaped about twenty yards, and with what seemed like zero effort, ripped Gunther’s head from his body.

  I know when I close my eyes to sleep I will be forever haunted by the cracking and tearing sounds Gunther’s neck made as it strained against the strength and rage of the screamer. The whole event took no more than ten or twenty seconds. Blood briefly sprayed the area as Gunther’s body hit the floor and his heart beat its last lubs and dubs.

  My brain wanted so badly to drop into a delightful state of shock at that very moment. Fortunately Jean was there to keep me upright. And had it not been for Susan, our heads would have been the next in the beast’s clutches. Instead, Susan released a challenging screech which the intruder succinctly returned. The uber-screamer leaped back into the zombie cage match and, to add to my already downward spiraling horror, laid waste to Susan. The dispatching of my little zombie made the death of Gunther look like a scene from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. First was an arm pulled off as if Susan was nothing more than a fly to the screamer’s bully. Next the beast proceeded to remove her left leg.

  The dismembering continued from there.

  Susan didn’t stand a chance. At first the monster was merely toying with the now-dying girl, but after that first leg popped off, the thing began swinging her over his head and bringing her head down on a large marble table. The wet, cracking sound nearly had me on my knees begging for some form of forgiveness from the ghost of the only man I ever truly loved.

  After five or so cracks, Susan’s head erupted and her boiled brains spilled over the table and floor. The monster dropped to its knees and did its best to lick up the gore. That was when Jean took aim and fired. With a single shot, Jean sent the screamer to meet its maker.

  The scene stopped. Everything stopped…everything but the film of the deaths of Gunther and Susan playing over and over on that internal celluloid loop in my mind, threatening to drive what little sanity remained of my unsettled consciousness. At that very moment, death would have been such sweet relief.

  My promise to Jacob has been broken. A large part of me was sure it was that single promise that drove me forward. I didn’t want to think saving that little girl was my sole motivation. It wasn’t until a flood of tears and grief poured out of me that I was able to see there was still much to be done. But those tears, those body wrenching sobs were the only way I could pay any respect to the loss of my friends.

  Jean tried to pull me to my feet, but I refused to let him. I needed to release. I needed to flood the cold marble with my tears in hopes of witnessing the blood of my little girl wash away.

  Honestly, I have no idea how long I knelt on the floor. Along with everything else at the moment, time became unimportant.

  Blog Entry 12/14/2015

  Even though my heart seems empty, I cannot allow all of the work we are doing to cease. The world is still a wreck, billions of people are either brain-consuming undead or lucky members of the unliving. Jean and I are on the verge of a vaccine. A cure. There is one looming problem – how to test the serum. The obvious method is to place one vaccinated self (self being me) in harm’s way and hope like hell the vaccine works. We had hoped the vaccine would work more like a cure, but we’ve had no luck. As much as I hate to admit this defeat, what’s done is done it seems.

  Surely some new possibility might make itself known. Our little group has grown and we really can’t afford to lose anyone else. In fact, it might be wise to try to recruit more members for our elite fighting force. Now, there’s an idea. Wouldn’t it be simple to call out to the bi-pedal, humanoid race on planet Earth to entice anyone close to Paris, France with a skill, talent, survivalist mentality to send me an email and let me know where you are and how you could help our situation. Maybe if I were to see someone worth contacting I…who knows? Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just dive into a Nihilist nightmare and no longer give a shit.

  My lungs have exhaled what seems like a sigh for the world. What was once such a miraculous wonder is now nothing more than a weary, dying s
orrow. Had I not already wept out every tear in my system, I would most likely be uncontrollably sobbing for humanity. Will we ever bounce back from this? To this point the human race has been a fairly resilient species. We’ve beaten disease, famine, plagues, terrorists, Hitler (with a nod to that bitch, irony), but this virus is different. It seems humanity has come up against an unyielding foe and our resolve has finally crumbled at our blood-stained feet.

  “Bethany, would you mind looking at something?” Jean was determined to not let me wax prosaic for too long. It’s probably for the better, because I was feeling something worse than PMS about to hit me. That could, of course, be pregnancy hormones. God, I’m not even showing and I’m already using it as an excuse.

  “What is it, Jean?” He beckoned me to follow him back to the hall where we killed the latest monster. I really had no interest in being reminded what had happened to Susan. Fortunately, Jean was kind enough to cover up her remains.

  “Have a look at this,” he said, gesturing toward the thing’s head, or at least what was left of it. As much as I didn’t want to look, my curiosity was piqued.

  “What in the name of –?” The sight was beyond comprehension. My brain did a few metaphorical back flips before I could even grasp what I was seeing. And just what was I seeing? The screamer that killed Susan had evolved – and done so rapidly. In fact, it seemed fairly certain the kind of evolution we were gazing upon was impossible, given the time frame.

  The skull of the zombie was normal sized for a male around six and a half feet tall. Once you went beyond the skull, however, chaos took over the design and form. The lower jaw of the thing looked to be about three inches too long and hinged not only horizontally, but vertically, so this screamer could open its mouth up and down and sideways. This thing could fit another human head inside of its mouth; and with the overly-developed jaw muscles, could crack the skull like a nutcracker on a walnut.

  “It looks like its jaw was built for –”

  “Biting through skulls.” I finished Jean’s sentence as we both stood in abject horror.