The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel

by Michael Wallace

  "Are you going to be okay with this?"

  "Considering the alternative is to do nothing and die before I turn fifty, I think this sounds great." She put her hands on his hips. "Besides, I can get a whole variety of wigs. You can go out with a blonde one night and a redhead another. I'm sure you'll get a kick out that. Plus, I might be able to squeeze into some of those tight dresses I used to wear back when we were dating. We can try to have some fun with it."

  He gave her a little peck on the lips. "I'll have fun when I know the cancer is in remission and we're going to grow old together."

  Wendy walked over to the table and glanced at all the spread out clothes. "Let's start the growing old together tomorrow. Right now I'm hungry." She circled her finger over the table. "Why don't you pack up your toys and take me to dinner?"

  "I can't." Daniel stepped up to the table. "I was given this new project today. I'm going to be here all night."

  "Tell the nerdist who gave you this project that it'll be a few hours late. Ignore it and let's eat."

  "I really want to take you to dinner and celebrate the start of the end of your cancer, but I can't tonight. The nerdist who gave this assignment to me happens to be a gigantic army general. When he comes back to hear the results, he'll be surrounded by men with guns. I think my heath will be best served if I get this done as soon as possible. We'll go to dinner Friday night and stay out late. Maybe we'll even go to the Gaslight."

  "Wow, a karaoke bar. You scientists really know how to party. It sounds like you're planning on staying out past your bedtime."

  Daniel snuggled up to her and said, "I might even wear jeans."

  As he leaned in to kiss her, he heard a voice from across the lab. "Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt your hypothesis session, but I'm looking for Dr. Cronsworth."

  Both Daniel and Wendy separated. He turned toward the door as she hand straightened her dress. Standing at the entrance to the room, he saw an attractive woman in her late forties holding a stack of blue file folders. Her glasses pushed up on top of her head, pulled her sandy blond hair away from her face revealing her light blue eyes. He stuttered in response, "I'm Dan Doctor, I mean, I'm Dr. Cronsworth… Dr. Dan Cronsworth… Daniel… Dr. Daniel…. Cronsworth."

  Holding the stack of folders against her chest with one hand, she extended the other while walking across the room. "I'm Dr. Towers with the CDC. General Brown assigned me to work with you on this new strain of virus." The two scientists shook hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Cronsworth."

  "Please, call me Daniel…Danny… Dan… Da-"

  Wendy placed her hand over his mouth to stop his rambling. "Call him Dan." She reached out her hand. "I'm Wendy, the wife of Dr. Dan Danny Daniel."

  Dr. Towers shook hands with Wendy. "It's nice to meet you both. Please, call me Lisa. I am not into all the formal protocols or the pleasantries. I prefer to focus on the work." She set the stacks of folders down on the table and revealed a shirt straining to contain her larger than average chest.

  Wendy picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Glancing at her husband and turning toward the door, she said, "I'll leave you and the pretty doctor to have fun with Petri dishes all night. I'm going to get some Chinese take-out and plant myself in front of an old movie on cable."

  Daniel stepped away from the table and said, "I promise you, we are only here to work on isolating this virus, nothing is going to happen."

  His wife turned back to him with a smile on her face. "Oh sweetie, I'm not the least bit concerned. I know nothing will happen."

  "You're not going to tell me to behave? You're not even going to pretend to be the slightest bit worried or jealous?"

  As she turned away from him she replied, "No, it's you we're talking about."

  "What's that supposed to mean."

  Walking out the door, Wendy let out a laugh and said, "She's way out of your league."

  Chapter 3

  As the sun set behind the Rocky Mountains, Prometheus walked along with a group of twenty other undead across the park toward the mall where the Zombie Crawl celebration was in full swing. Hundreds of humans dressed as zombies, drinking beer, and listening to the loud music, which bounced off of the tall buildings. He stared at the streetlights and neon beer signs in the bar windows, as he could not imagine such a light or how it could be produced. Never had he seen the darkness lit up so well without the use of many large fires and torches. He thought, how could they contain this light in all these glass tubes?

  A young Goth woman ran up to him and spoke with a British accent. "Excuse me kind sir, I am in need of assistance as I do not belong in this strange land. Can you please offer me some guidance? I have nothing to offer in exchange but I promise my father will see you are greatly rewarded upon my return to Billington Manor."

  Prometheus continued walking with the group as the Goth woman matched their pace. He explained to her, "I am also new to this world, apologies as I may not have the answers your ears desire. If you join us in our quest, you will gain some of the knowledge you seek. Others, who have experience in this strange land longer than I, can assist in many of your questions."

  "Finally, I meet a person who speaks the King's proper English. I do not understand this gibberish spoken by these strange people who have the most peculiar ways." She glanced at her arms with the needle marks and long brown streaks, and tried to brush them away. "I do not mean to appear daft but my soul seems to have been placed inside the body of another woman. A body which is difficult to move yet it feels strong. It is as if I am the subject of an extreme bag of nails."

  Prometheus explained, "As we have all been placed inside bodies which we do not own, I can only offer obscurities as I cannot answer all of your questions. As for speaking the King's English, I feel I am speaking my native tongue of Attica. However, I also seek many answers just as you desire and have learned to be patient and observe what happens around me. When we return to our building of solitude, you will gather with others to learn more about this world and our purpose here." He turned to look at the young woman. "My name is Prometheus and I hail from Athens."

  "T'is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Prometheus. I am Candice Billington of the Cardiff Billingtons."

  As they approached a street corner, the loud screech of tires followed by a thud startled them. Turning toward the sound, he saw one of his fellow living dead lying underneath the bumper of a car. As the accident victim crawled out from under the vehicle and brushed off the dirt, the driver exited and screamed at him in his un-discernible language making very animated and large hand gestures to accent his speech. While this one-way argument continued, more tire shrieks and a bang. Several members of the zombie horde had walked in front of oncoming traffic forcing a car to veer into a street light pole knocking it down. The exposed power lines sent colored sparks bouncing across the concrete sidewalk, onto the grass. With interest in the bright sparks, one of the ancient souls picked up a live wire. The powerful current sent the dead man into convulsions. His hand clenched tight around the line as his body lurched on the ground. Another zombie grabbed his hand in an attempt to assist. The connection sent electricity into the second man causing him shake uncontrollably. More of the ancient souls walked toward the men with the intention of helping the burn victims. The college student in the elderly body raised his hands and said, "Dudes, stop! You're going to get electrocuted."

  With curious expressions, the other zombies halted. An undead man with a beer gut and an ill-fitting dirty t-shirt asked. "What kind of witchcraft has taken control of these men? They have fallen under the spell of a powerful sorcerer."

  The crowd of humans, dressed as zombies, gathered around the two men still connected to the live wire and let out screams as the two living dead burst into flames. The college student glanced at the humans and back at his fellow dead. "Wow, you ancient guys don't know what electricity is or how cars and traffic work do you? I think we need to get you more training before you can come out in public agai
n."

  Two of the human men took off their shirts and tried to beat out the fire on the charred bodies still connected to the live electrical line while others dumped their beers on the flames. Other living people threw their plastic cups at the zombies and yelled angry untranslatable words at them. Vic stepped up to the group of undead and explained, "We need to get away from this scene. The police are here and this is going to get out of control real fast. Let's get back to the warehouse as quickly as our dead legs will take us."

  Prometheus saw the flames die out on the two charred bodies, as the humans covered them with blankets. More vehicles arrived with multicolored bright flashing lights. He turned to walk with his horde when a man in a dark uniform and silver badge on his chest, grabbed his arm, stopped him, and spoke in a loud voice. The human's words remained insensible, but something unexpected happened. An urge he never felt before took charge of the newly arrived zombie. A feeling he couldn't control just as the instinct to run from a lion would take command of your body, this drove his actions. He grabbed the officer’s hand and gouged a bite out of the man's forearm.

  The human with the silver badge fell to the ground holding his bleeding wound. There was no need to translate the strange language, as this man screamed out in pain. Vic grabbed Prometheus and said, "Hey Socrates, we need to get you out here. This whole scene just went viral." He pointed to a human holding a small video camera pointed at them.

  Prometheus, with fresh blood around his mouth dripping down on his chest, had no idea what the video device did. The feeling of flesh inside his host body felt wondrous. The stiffness in his joints, disappeared. He had the strength of a mule and the vision of an eagle. "I have to get more of this meat." He said with desire in his face.

  Vic pulled him away from the crowd. "Dude, taking a bite out of that guy's arm made you stoned. I can see it in your eyes." Vic viewed the growing crowd and saw two men, next to a police officer point to Prometheus. "Really, we need to get out of here. I'm guessing they still had jails in ancient times. Trust me we don't want to go there."

  Back at the warehouse, candles places throughout the building provided a yellow glow. The horde gathered and spoke in small groups as to what happened, at the mall. Gunnar Benwa approached Titus and Prometheus. "It does not sound like you return with news of a successful campaign."

  "I fear the task assigned to us may not be as simple as originally thought." Titus glanced at Prometheus and back to the Viking. "Our descendants have a natural fear of us. Perhaps due to our large numbers, they see us as a threat."

  Pointing to the dried blood around the mouth of Prometheus, Gunnar said, "It may be more than our numbers they fear. As in our time, the living does not enjoy being the main course of another's meal."

  "This is not all there is to the complication. Those of us not familiar with this world can easily fall subject to the dangers that are not so apparent to our eyes." Prometheus tried to rub the dried blood off of his chin. "Two members of our merry band burst into flames for reasons unknown to those of us not of this time."

  "I say our first order of business should be to only set out in small groups as to not bring attention to ourselves." Gunnar ran his finger through the flame of a nearby candle sitting on top of a metal table. "Second, those of us not known to this world need to find a way to become familiar with all the strange contraptions and the ways of the living."

  "I can help with this."

  All three dead men turned toward the source of the voice to see a woman in her mid twenties, shoulder length brown hair, wearing a waitress uniform. A burn ring around her throat told the story of how young lady died by strangulation. "Up until last week, I was a history teacher at the University." She glanced down at her body and smoothed the front of her uniform with her hands. "You know, for decades, I always thought how great it would be to be twenty again." She turned and looked at the three ancient men. "It's not so good."

  Prometheus said, "You mentioned you could help those of us who are not from this time. What assistance can you offer?"

  "Like I said, history is my forte. I can give all of you who are pre-automobile and pre-electricity a crash course on what's happened in the world, since you walked as one of the living."

  Titus reached out a hand with his palm up and slightly bowed to the young lady. "I am Titus Arilius a Roman of good standing and I am at your service."

  The history teacher replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Titus. My name is Jennifer." She turned to Gunnar Benwa and said, "…and you are?"

  The Viking wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a great big bear hug, as a smile spread across her face. "Enough of this civilized garbage." He set her back down and she pulled her hair off her face and caught her breath. "They call me Gunnar and it's about time we started to get some more Norse ways into our new family."

  The college student in the elderly man's body moved closer and engaged in a loud conversation with a nicely dressed black man wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. "It's me, Drew. I've been put in this old dude's body, but you have to know it's me."

  The black man said. "I do not know this body or anyone named Drew and stop calling me Greg. My name is Haru Tochigi. I must find my way back to my village. It is under attack and they need me to help defend it."

  "You have to be my friend, Greg. That is his body and you have the same suit on that he was wearing the last time I saw him. We were drinking…. Oh, wait; we were both downing a bottle of whiskey. I guess we had the same fate."

  The black man took a martial arts defensive stance as if about to attack. "I insist you take me back to my village and return me to the body of which I am accustomed." Looking at his hands, a confused expression crossed his face. "I have never seen skin so dark. Why is this body this color? No one in any of the villages, even as far away as the mountains surrounded by mist, have skin like this.” He relaxed his stance and grabbed his groin to make some adjustments. "How did your friend Greg ever fight in battle? With this man part as big as a tree between my legs, I cannot move freely without it getting in the way."

  Gunnar slapped his hand down on the man's shoulder and let out a deep laugh. "My new friend, Greg. If your ability to drink ale is as great as your willingness to fight, you will make a fine Viking."

  * * *

  Military personnel and the suit-wearing foundation executives, who fund the lab, occupied all the seats in the large conference room, Daniel listened to the presentation and wondered if he had ever seen this room actually filled to maximum capacity. General Brown pointed the remote at the projector screen. “Local news crews have been airing random videos of people suffering from this sleeping sickness.”

  On the screen, the video showed a zombie stagger across a busy street in downtown Chicago. He walked in front of a city bus, which crushed him underneath the tires. Blood and pieces of internal organs splattered across the windshield. Some of the suits cringed at the sight. “Unfortunately or luckily, depending on how you see it, the people suffering from this disease have lost their rational mental state.” The video switched to another undead in Dallas stepping in front of an oncoming train. As his body came in contact with the engine, it vaporized into a red mist. “They have no sense of danger, no basic instincts to keep them from walking in front of trucks or grabbing live electrical lines. I’m not worried about a few small news channels.” The screen changed to the video of the zombies from the mall crawl that caught on fire. “There are videos showing up on the Internet getting much more exposure than some local TV station. This event occurred last week, right here in Denver at the Zombie Festival. At first, they thought it was some drunken participants staggering into danger. When the dental records came back to identify those people, it turned out they both died in a car accident two weeks earlier. Their bodies were never reported missing, because the Adams County Coroner didn’t want to sound crazy trying to explain how two dead bodies sat up and walked out of her office. It’s not just happening here. Reports are flo
wing in from coroners and morticians all across the country.”

  The General turned the projector off and opened his briefcase, which was sitting on top of the table. He pulled out a silver flask with a small dent in the side and an army star on the front. After opening the cap, he took a swig. He handed the whiskey to the executive sitting next to him. The suit cautiously took the container and glanced around the room, giving the impression that he didn’t know what to do next. With a bit of fear expressed on his face, he took a sip. Immediately, he coughed, choked and almost vomited. The General grabbed the flask back from his hand and said, “Smooth, ain't it.” He almost placed the cap back on the flask, but then decided to leave it off. “The way I see it, if we can’t find an anti-virus, they will eliminate themselves by walking into traffic or being attracted to fire like moths. However, until that time, you nerds need to find the cure. It won’t take long before teenagers start treating these folks like a live video game, trying to run them down, scoring more points than their buddies.”

  The Captain sitting across the table said, “Actually General, reports have come out of Texas of kids doing exactly that.”

  “Shut up, Bill.” The General turned back to Daniel and Lisa. You two are going to stay here 24/7 until you have good news for me. If I have to, I’ll place armed guards at the door to keep you from leaving.” He took one more sip from his flask before placing it back in his briefcase and snapping the latches shut. “Now, I have to go out there and give all those media clowns a load of official B.S.”

  * * *

  A large group of media and protesters gathered in the parking lot behind a line of armed soldiers. As General Brown stared at the ground and moved fast to avoid answering questions, the crowd moved across the lot with him. A young journalist with a microphone at the front of the crowd, and, standing next to his cameraman, called out, "General! Is it true the Zombie Sickness is a failed attempt at population control by the military?"