Zombie Zoology: An Unnatural History

by Tim Curran

  “But that weren't the strangest thing. See, I think the creatures were like a hobby for Kelson. No-one really knew for certain what he did 'cept it musta involved chemicals, as that's what they found the most of in his house. Jars an' tubs an' bottles of different substances.”

  “What's so strange about that?”

  “They found branches from the vine trailin' into some of the chemicals, like it'd been feeding from 'em. But that's not all.

  “A lot of the workers reported hearing noises in the walls – they thought it might be rats, 'til they uncovered a rats' nest with vines all in it, the rats just as dead as you please. So they thought: Must be bugs. That's where I came into it.”

  “But you never said anything about hearing weird noises when you came back from sorting the place out...” Connor said, then added, “Mind you, you never told me you'd got a new pet from there either.”

  “I didn't hear nothing when I was there,” Burt admitted, with a touch of disappointment. “Maybe the workers got spooked by the things they saw, or maybe whatever lives inside that house decided to be quiet when I turned up, or maybe Rex ate whatever it was.”

  “That what you think?”

  The old man shrugged eloquently, “I only know what I know.”

  “Do you think Rex is one of Kelson's-”

  “Maybe,” Burt interrupted, though he sounded less than convinced. “Except all the tanks and cages they found had something in, even if it was just a skeleton.”

  Connor grunted, not sure what to say. After a few moments, he asked, “I guess your mind's made up about using Rex, huh?”

  “Yep,” Burt replied. “An' don't worry, kid. Like I said - I wouldn't try something like this if I didn't think it'd stand a real good chance of working.”

  Connor sighed. “Okay. If we start small, let Rex loose in confined spaces and under supervision, we should be all right. But I'm warning you, Burt,” he pointed at the old man, “if it starts to look like this is even one percent of a bad idea, I'm going to kill Rex. Just like I would any other pest.”

  “Now there's no need to sound so harsh, kid-”

  “That's the only way I'll go along with your screwy idea, Burt.” Connor folded his arms defensively. “We need control methods, otherwise we're just asking for trouble.”

  “Sure, sure,” Burt waved a dismissive hand and hobbled around the other side of his own desk. Collapsing into his chair, he began to leaf through a large book on his desk, licking his fingertips in-between each turn of a page. “Our next booking ain't 'til next week. I'll use these next five days to see if I can give Rex a taste for anything other than moths, beetles and other roaches.”

  “I don't think that's such a bad idea,” Connor admitted. “I'm not sure how intelligent a bug can be, but if you can try and get Rex to correlate your presence with food, you might – might – actually be able to train him, to a small degree.”

  Burt looked up from the diary and stared into the glass tank, where Rex casually feasted on the remains of an earlier meal. “I think they're a lot more intelligent than we give 'em credit for...”

  -II-

  Burt decided to give Rex a baptism of fire, by letting him loose on a wasp nest in a client's garage. “I know he likes the taste of 'em,” he told Connor when they arrived at the site, “but I'd like to see just how much of an appetite he has, and how resilient he can be.”

  “I gotta admit Burt, I didn't think you'd want to risk Rex's life like this on his first job.”

  “I told you before, he's a King. I just know it,” the old man replied. “He'll surprise us, you'll see.”

  And he did.

  Burt released Rex next to the large paper-lantern of a hive once Connor knocked the wasps out with smoke, and knocked the nest down from the roof. The two men, dressed in thick overalls and masks, then retreated a number of steps and waited with a mixture of excitement and fear. The large pale roach skittered eagerly towards its next meal, twitched its antennae as it tasted the air, backed-off a few inches, then darted inside the hive, eliciting a crisp rustling noise akin to the scrape of leaves on cloth. Occasionally they'd come a brief, vicious buzz from inside the hive, but nothing escaped. A little over fifteen minutes later, and Rex cautiously stuck his head out of the bottom of the hive. Burt took this as his cue, removed his mask, and bent down to scoop Rex up, who – just as before – climbed eagerly onto the old man's hand and waited patiently to be placed back inside his glass tank. Connor carefully prodded the hive, tearing ragged holes in its sickly grey skin. Nothing spilled out, not even dead wasps or larvae.

  “Holy shit,” Connor said, quickly excusing his language in front of his boss.

  Burt laughed and said, “Don't worry about it, kid. I kinda feel like cussin' myself.”

  “It's...it's incredible. I don't know how else to describe what just happened.”

  “Yes sir,” Burt proudly patted the tank in his hands. “Looks like Rex here is our dream ticket, all right.”

  “Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Burt,” Connor warned. “We don't know if he'll try to escape once we let him loose somewhere else.”

  Burt grinned. “Only one way to find out.”

  -III-

  Under the guise of trying-out a new chemical agent, Burt and Connor assured clients that, although there was a chance a job might end up taking longer than usual, there wouldn’t be harmful residue left behind. Anyone who was still uncertain or unhappy with the prospect of paying more than they usually did were told the new extermination method would also completely wipe-out any trace of the pests currently causing them misery. Even so, there were still those who showed reluctance or cynicism towards the pair’s entrepreneurial plans. Burt decided to run a sweep on their houses and apartments first, at a reduced rate, as a sign of both goodwill and his own confidence.

  Thankfully the gambit paid off and business, though it didn’t exactly ‘boom’, did increase. Burt only used Rex in small, confined areas, and in turn Rex repeated his astounding ability to completely eradicate any and all pests within that area. Word-of-mouth spread the revelation that Burt Sanderson and Connor Jenkins had created or discovered a brand new extermination method, one that played out exactly as they said it would.

  Rex never attempted to scuttle away and hide whenever he was released, and happily allowed Burt to handle him on a regular basis. Whilst charged with clearing out a basement of roaches, Burt lifted Rex from his tank and faced Connor. “Why don’t you have a try?” the old man asked his apprentice, holding a placid Rex out on the palm of his liver-spotted hand.

  “No thanks,” Connor pulled a face. “Rex looks like he could give me a nasty bite if he doesn’t like me touching him.”

  “You’d never do that, would you boy?” Burt asked the roach. Rex twitched his antennae in reply. “Come on, kid. Hold him. You should be used to him by now.”

  “Sorry Burt, but I’m not as comfortable around insects as you are. Besides, he’s your pet. I think he’s more than happy to let you feed and handle him.”

  Burt made a ‘pfft’ noise and gently placed the roach down on the cold stone floor. “Go get ‘em, Rex!” he urged, quietly. The roach skittered haphazardly around the basement until it decided on a direction. As it darted towards a jumble of old boxes, Connor said, not for the first time, “I hope he doesn’t decide to stay down here.”

  “He’ll come back to me,” Burt nodded to himself.

  “I’ll guess we’ll see…” Connor muttered, setting up a couple of baited roach traps to catch any potential stragglers.

  ***

  A slow damp hour passed, the solitary light bulb buzzing like a trapped bee, before Rex reappeared with a small roach in his jaws. “Guess he wants to bring a meal with him,” Burt chuckled, bending down to pick Rex up.

  “I can’t help but think we’re pushing our luck,” Connor said, quite suddenly and with an abruptness uncommon to his general manner. Burt gently placed Rex back in his tank then stood up with a crack of his spine and
fixed his rheumy eyes on the younger man. “Change the record, kid. Since using Rex our profits have almost doubled. Rex is good for business.”

  “Rex is our business,” Connor replied. “Okay, so let’s say he’s the tamest roach on the planet and we don’t lose him whilst clearing a house. What about if he comes across a natural predator like a centipede or a, a...a parasitic wasp?”

  “If that ever happened,” Burt said, “the other insect would have to be pretty darn big to overpower ol’ Rexy.” He chuckled and motioned for Connor to carry the roach’s tank. “Hold 'im a sec, kid, while I get myself a drink.” Reaching for his hipflask, Burt continued, “An' seriously Connor, the way you been carrying on lately I’m startin’ to wonder if maybe you ain’t cut out for a career in pe-”

  Burt was cut off abruptly by the pop of the lightbulb as it died, drenching the two men in solid darkness. Startled, Connor cursed and dropped Rex's tank with a dull crash.

  “You, you halfwit!” Burt roared, his whiskey-rough voice croaking hoarsely. “Don't move an inch!”

  “Shit! I'm sorry Burt – the bulb going out like that made me jump, and-”

  “Sssh!” the old man hissed. “Rex! Stay where you are Rex, I'll rescue you.”

  “You boys okay down there?” Mrs Macready, the homeowner, called from the top of the stairs, the open doorway allowing a jagged slice of weak daylight to filter into the darkness of the basement.

  “The bulb went, Mrs Macready,” Connor called back, using the diffused light to clear up the broken tank.

  “There's a lantern by the foot of the stairs,” she called back.

  “Got it!” Burt said, fiddling with the lantern as Connor cursed yet again. “What is it now? An' if you've killed Rex...”

  “Cut my hand on a piece of glass,” Connor muttered. “Rex seems...oh.”

  “What?” Burt bent over with an ancient crack and a grimace, eyes desperately searching the remains of Rex's tank for any sign of the roach.

  “Y'know, it's not as bad as it looks...”

  “Quiet, Connor,” Burt snapped, eyes widening at the sight of the glass poking out of Rex's back. “My poor Rex...”

  “Let me-”

  “I'll do it,” Burt waved the other man away and moved closer to Rex, who sat apparently nibbling at the piece of glass with Connor's blood on. With infinite care, Burt slid the shard from Rex, who didn't even appear to realise what was happening. Though there remained a noticeable, albeit tiny, mark in the roach's back, the wound didn't leak any bodily fluid at all. The fragment itself was completely clean. Connor frowned at Burt but the old man was too busy fussing over his favourite bug. “Let's get you home and looked at,” he soothed. “Get you away from this nasty man.”

  “Oh for f-” Connor threw his hands up in exasperation. “I didn't do it on purpose, Burt!”

  “Clean up in here, an' sort out Mrs Macready's account wouldya?”

  “Sure, just-”

  But Burt ignored him and slowly clambered up the basement steps, Rex tucked protectively in his hands. He nodded at the old woman, and said “Connor could do with a dustpan, Eda,” before leaving the house.

  -IV-

  Rex, initially never Connor's biggest fan, developed an apparent and severe distrust of him. Connor thought so, anyway. Every time he approached the roach (now housed in a new, fancier tank) he swore the insect moved away from him. Burt, predictably, took the side of the bug. “You gave him a real fright, boy.”

  “I'm not going to keep apologising,” Connor said. “Besides, he's clearly okay. Which you have to admit it is a little weird.”

  “Clearly, his species can take more punishment than a normal roach.”

  Connor grunted in response. Talking to Burt about Rex's...uniqueness...only resulted in a kind of stubborn denial from the old man about just how peculiar Rex was. The old man looked about ready to say something when he was interrupted by the office phone. He picked it up and, after a brief conversation, hung up. “It's Mrs Macready,” he said. “She's dead.”

  ***

  Her husband had discovered her body, collapsed in an uncomfortable heap against the foot of the basement steps, a look of utter shock carved onto her elderly visage. Thankfully, the police had removed her body by the time Burt and Connor turned up, but they still got all the details from the town gossip, who just so happened to also be Eda's neighbour. “Terrible,” she said to Connor, hovering around the scene of the crime like a fly around dead meat. “Her face was white as chalk, like she'd seen a ghost!”

  “That's quite enough, Julia,” Officer Hendricks warned, herding her from the kitchen.

  “Thanks for coming down, fellas,” he said to Burt and Connor once he returned.

  “Why do you want us here?” Connor enquired.

  “Far as we can tell, you gents were the last people to see her alive. Doing a job, were you?”

  Connor frowned. “You know we were - they're our traps in the basement.”

  “What sort of bugs were you boys trying to clean up?”

  “Cockroaches. And we did.”

  “What's this all about, Roy?” Burt demanded. “If it ain't important, you wouldn'ta asked us to call by.”

  “Quite right,” the cop agreed. “I'd like you gents to take a look in the basement.”

  “What about the crime scene?” asked Connor, completely puzzled.

  “Just go take a look, Mr Jenkins.”

  Connor looked at Burt, who shrugged, and motioned for him to lead the way down the steps. Connor obliged and trudged down, noticing the light bulb had been replaced. A noise, small and harsh, greeted his ears and he held a hand out behind him to slow Burt down.

  “Kid?”

  “Can you hear that?” Connor stepped onto the basement floor, acutely aware the sound was coming from a nearby wall. He peered into the edges of the light bulb's illumination and gasped, feeling a deep, cold calm wash through him.

  The wall was alive with hundreds of squirming pale insects.

  “Jesus...” Burt breathed beside him. “That ain't right...”

  The slowly churning mass of bodies comprised of roaches, spiders and a handful of other insects that shouldn't congregate together. All pale, all black-eyed, all fundamentally different.

  “Nearest we can figure,” Officer Hendricks spoke up behind them, “is Eda came down here to replace the lightbulb, and when the new light came on she saw those bugs. Gave her the shock of her life and she stumbled, possibly banged her head, or had a heart attack. Jerry's doing an examination as we speak to find out which.”

  Connor said, “How'd you know about the bulb?”

  “She was holding a dead one in her hand when her husband found her. Poor fella.”

  Burt turned to face the cop. “Where's Harry now?”

  “At his sister's. Guy's only just holding onto it.”

  “This is pretty fucking weird,” said Connor, turning to Burt. “Pardon my language, but it is.”

  “No, I agree with ya, kid.” Burt shook his head, “Surely this ain't got nothing to do with Rex...?”

  “Rex? You gents are using a new pest control technique, that right? Rex to do with that?”

  “Rexaprotheen,” Connor said quickly, unsure quite why he was lying. “New chemical we've been using.”

  “You got all the correct licences and whatnot?”

  “Of course,” Burt replied, indignant. “You trying to blame us somehow, Roy? That's low, boy. Very low. I run a tight ship. Have done for years.”

  “Nothing of the sort, Burt,” Hendricks soothed. “Simply asking questions. That's all.”

  “What do you want us to do about these bugs? Are they a suspect?” Connor asked with a completely straight face. He was secretly pleased to get a chuckle from Burt.

  “Get rid of 'em. I don't think old Harry'll want to live in a house crawling with those things, now will he?”

  “Yes sir,” Connor saluted. “We've got a job-”

  “Whatever,” Hendricks waved a dismis
sive hand. “One of my men'll be here to let you back in.”

  “Yes sir,” Connor repeated.

  In the pick-up back to the office, Connor asked Burt “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

  “I am,” Burt admitted, “but I'm gonna pretend I ain't.”

  “We did the job in Mrs Macready's basement three days ago. I think it's safe to say no other mutant strain of cockroach got in there and...did whatever it did to those insects to make them look and act like that.”

  “Maybe,” Burt held a warning finger up, “but if that's the case, why ain't we seen any other signs of peculiar insects since before today?”

  “That's what's worrying me more the most...” Connor replied, quietly. “Because Rex clearly decimated the areas we let him loose in the first few times, we just assumed he'd done the same with all the places since.”

  “But the back-up traps were clear.”

  “The ones in Mrs Macready's basement were too,” Connor said, maintaining eye contact with Burt until the older man had to pay attention to the road again. “I can recall, off-hand, at least five jobs where Rex appeared to remove all organic trace of the pests we sent him after. Five. And let's not forget the four jobs we've done since being called out to the Macready basement.”