The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel

by Michael Wallace

  Hellion and Pink ducked under the table as their attorney swung his briefcase at the zombie in the blue dress. An undead in a motorcycle rider's jumpsuit grabbed Pink and pulled her out from under the table. Chris punched the zombie in the face, knocking him down. The samurai sword wielding re-an thrust his blade into Chris's abdomen. As the attorney glanced down at the blood running out of his wound, he looked at his clients and motioned his head toward the open courtroom window. While he fell to the ground, Hellion grabbed Pink's hand and pulled her toward the window through the mob of fighting. A zombie pinned the bailiff against the wall next to them. As the court officer tried to push the re-an off him, the undead bit into the man's neck, spraying blood over the two women. Hellion grabbed Pink and pushed her out the window. The zombie grabbed one of her dreadlocks, jerked her head back and kept her from leaving. The bailiff pulled out his gun, placed the barrel against her lock of hair and shot the re-an's hand off. Diving through the window, Hellion quickly glanced back and saw the bailiff overrun by two more zombies, now feasting on his organs.

  * * *

  Gunnar led the charge down the courthouse hallway followed by his squad of living dead soldiers. The humans let out screams and ran in the opposite direction. The Viking slowed and raised his battle-axe high to signal the other dead. He pointed to a set of double doors, and said, "Brother Greg, take your men through those doors to see if she's inside."

  As Greg and his men burst through the doors, Gunnar continued to lead the charge down the hall. Drew grabbed the leader on the shoulder, and pointed to a stairway. "This is the way to the basement."

  Gunnar stopped, stared at two of his soldiers, and said, "You stay here with your group and protect our backs as we go down into this cellar."

  Running down the marble stairs to the basement, he could hear the crash of metal trays and glass. In the dark hallway, he pointed to the room where he thought he heard the noise. His soldiers smashed through the door and they poured inside.

  The room had been set up as a makeshift lab with metal cadaver tables, grossing stations and necropsy equipment. Scattered trays and broken glass on the floor, told the story of the quick and hasty exit by the workers. Strapped down on one of the tables at the far end of the room, Gunnar saw the naked body of K.C. He and the others ran through the maze of tables and equipment to free her, as she remained unmoving. They unfastened the straps while the Viking called to her, "My sister, we are here to gain your freedom."

  K.C. remained motionless with her eyes closed. With all the straps pulled off, he grabbed her shoulder and slightly shook her. "It is considered poor manners to sleep through your rescue. Wake up K.C., so we may take you back to our stronghold."

  With his thumb, Drew opened her right eyelid. The white clouded pupil told all of her rescuers the story. Placing his hand on her chest to feel for a heartbeat, Drew replied. "It can't be." He held two fingers against her neck. "I think she's dead."

  One of the zombies in the back of the group said, "We're all dead."

  "I know we're all dead and none of us have a pulse, so it's hard to confirm when we are no longer one of the living dead. It does appear that the person we knew as K.C. no longer inhabits this body."

  Gunnar placed his hand over her eyes. "The Valkyries have brought a new warrior to Valhalla." He lifted his hand and addressed the rest of his soldiers. "Tonight, we will celebrate our sister's triumphs."

  Drew interrupted, "There's more to this than a fallen soldier and don't debate with me that we are already dead. But, it appears the living have figured out a way to kill us. If they did this to K.C., it won't be long until they can do it to the rest of us."

  After a moment of silence, Gunnar placed his hand on Drew's shoulder. "We will address this issue at a later time. Our task at hand is to wrap up our sister's body so we can take her with us and give her a proper Viking send off."

  Chapter 10

  Wearing leather gardening gloves, Daniel carefully picked up pieces of broken glass and tossed them into the large trashcan in the center of his lab. The mess and destruction caused by the activists left all of his work in shambles, scattered across the room. Two of his assistants pushed the tall refrigerator back upright, as Dr. Tower tried to gather the paper documents scattered throughout the rubble. While gently pulling half a sheet of paper from underneath an overturned set of shelves, she said, "I really hope all of our data is still backed up on the server. It looks like we're not going to get it all back from our hardcopy notes. We should've kept them in the walk-in freezer. That thing is like a bank vault. I'm betting it will still be here long after we are all gone."

  Grabbing a push broom from against the wall, Daniel responded, "If we do have to start over from scratch, at least we know which direction to go. Once we have the lab back up and running, we should have the first serum in two or three weeks. Besides, Dr. Kolhoff and his team in Miami are just as close to isolating the parasite. By this time next year, the re-an outbreak will be a distant memory."

  Lisa sorted through papers spread across a table. "I hope so. All the major labs have been so focused on this outbreak, we let the Omega Virus sneak up on us. There's indication it might be more destructive than the re-an if we don't get it under control."

  "One theory circulating around, states the Omega Virus," Daniel swept some glass shards into a pile, "is a variant of the Reanimation Virus that, instead of placing the host into a zombie-like state, it overwhelms the vital organs."

  Dr. Tower glanced up from her papers. "But, there have been cases, where a person who showed symptoms of the Omega Virus has been declared dead, only to have the re-an virus bring the body back to life. This would indicate there are two different strains. With our findings, the re-an may not be a virus at all, which means these are two different outbreaks."

  "This is true. The Omega appears to create more re-an cases. It's a perfect storm of A4 outbreaks."

  Lisa set the stack of papers in her hand down on the table and walked over to Daniel. He leaned the broom against the wall and wrapped his arms around her waist as she did the same to him. Holding each other close, she asked, "Have you had the talk with your wife yet?"

  Daniel let out a breath and said, "She's dying of cancer. I can't tell her something like this right at the end of her life."

  "How's her chemo going?"

  "It's not going well. The tumors are continuing to grow. I'm afraid it will not be long before it spreads to her lymphatic system and then her entire body."

  Lisa released her hug and placed her right hand on his chest. "I'm so sorry this is happening to her and to you. I wish this thing between us," she motioned her hand between her and Daniel, "didn't happen right now. I feel so bad. I really like Wendy and never meant for this to happen. The last thing I want would be to hurt her."

  "I know. With our emotions running so high combined with all the stress of the outbreak, and her cancer, it was bound to happen with us spending so much time in close proximity. We've practically been living together in this lab."

  As Daniel leaned in and gave Lisa a soft kiss on the lips, his lab assistant, Hutch, called out, "Hey Dr. Kissy-Face, some of these samples didn't break." He pointed to some Petri dishes on the ground. "Do want me to toss them or put them back in the cooler?"

  Dr. Cronsworth stepped back from Lisa, cleared his throat and glanced at the specimens on the floor. "Let's keep ‘em. I'll examine them later to see if they have become contaminated."

  Dr. Tower's face turned red with embarrassment as she turned to walk back to her table with all the documents.

  * * *

  John Colton's police uniform appeared tattered and worn as he crawled through the dark field surrounded by his civilian militia. He came to a stop behind a large golden currant bush and pulled his machete from its sheath strapped to his back. In the distance, he saw two re-ans standing in front of the abandoned warehouse. Turning to the man next to him, he pointed to his right with his blade and said in a low whisper, "Go tell Frank and
his men, we're going in when I give the signal."

  His fellow soldier crawled away through the tall grass and quickly vanished into the darkness. Colton continued to watch the re-ans in front of the building. They moaned to each other as if they carried on a conversation. Through the windows, the shadows and silhouettes of other dead souls ambled across the floor. He leaned forward for a better view and his knee broke a dry twig on the ground. The snapping drew the attention of one re-an at the door. John froze so he would not make another sound. At the door, the two undead went back to their moans and groaning.

  As one of the zombies walked into the building, the former police officer stood, waved his machete in the air and yelled, "Let's go!"

  The militia of seventy men sprang up from all over the field and charged into the dim light emanating out of the building. As they poured inside the warehouse, the civilian soldiers met a wave of well-armed zombies. Pulled from a scene of a nightmarish ancient battle, the two armies collided with a clash of metal weapons. Colton and his militia called out actions to each other, "On your left! Watch out behind you!" While the re-ans appeared to communicate in their strange uncomprehended moans. The living dead poured out of the shadows from behind crates and far corners, giving the impression that their numbers were unending. The former police officer wondered; where did they learn to fight so well? How did they make better swords than ours?

  One of the militia ran up to Colton with his face and hands covered with blood. The man's face had the look of fear frozen on it. "They're everywhere! There has to be over a thousand of them!"

  Four of the undead pounced on the man, taking bites out of his face and neck, tearing away pieces of his flesh with their teeth. Blood sprayed into the air, indicating his heart continued to beat and he remained alive while being eaten. Before John could help the man, two more living dead, attacked him with hardened swords made from pounded scrap metal. He swung his machete wildly, clashing metal on metal, keeping their weapons away from him while backing away from his attackers. Another one of his soldiers, armed with an axe, hacked at the neck of one undead until the poor soul's head came off. The two men, chopped at the other attacker until his body parts lay scattered across the ground.

  Colton surveyed the battle and realized how grossly they were out numbered. He saw three of his men hack and stab a bright green-eyed zombie, only to be killed by a sword wielding dead Harajuku Girl with a Panda bear backpack. To save the few men he still had, he waved his arm towards the door and called out, "LoDo Militia, retreat!"

  His remaining bloody and wounded soldiers ran with him toward the exit. He left with only half the amount of men he brought to the battle. Outside, the living dead continued to chase them into the darkness. As they crossed the Platte River, Colton stopped on the opposite bank, helped his men out of the water, and saw the dark silhouettes of their attackers turn and stagger back to their stronghold.

  * * *

  Candles and torches placed at all levels filled the warehouse and cast a yellow light through the building. The once small group of undead had now grown to hundreds. As they spread out across all parts of the large abandoned building, their numbers filled all the spaces, while they wandered about with nothing to fill their time. The inability to sleep forced them to find any type of activity to occupy the long stretches between searching for supplies and fending off attacks. Most resorted to pacing in small areas to place themselves into a trance so they would not be aware of how many minutes had passed.

  Gunnar approached Prometheus and gently placed his hand on the Athenian's shoulder. "Walk with me, my brother. I have the need to talk to someone from the land of great thinkers."

  The two men walked through the side door of the warehouse into the night, and saw the lights of the city form a glowing bubble in the dark sky. Between them and the lights lay a mile of dark empty buildings abandoned by living. As they stopped at the edge of the light, Prometheus asked his friend, "What do you need to talk about my friend?"

  Gunnar glanced at the distant glow. "It's the war building between us and our fellow dead brothers. I am bothered by the feud."

  "There are so many troubling facts about this existence. What troubles you about the Clan of Titus?"

  "In all of the different lands I have fought, I have never seen brothers fighting brothers. I was asked to protect this clan, and for the first time in my memory, I have failed at such a task. My father and clan elders would be greatly disappointed in me."

  "You have not failed, my friend." Prometheus stared out at the city lights. "Our numbers have only grown stronger and your soldiers have proven their worth many times over. The knowledge and skills you have brought us will help complete our mission."

  "But I cannot protect our clan when it is divided. Titus and his people are still part of our brotherhood. A disagreement does not change this fact."

  "Perhaps Titus no longer asks for your protection. You should relieve yourself of this burden, and focus your efforts on those, who still depend on your shelter."

  "As you said, there are many troubling facts about this world." Gunnar glanced down at his strange clothing. "My life as one of the living consisted of conquering villages, drinking ale, and rousting with women. In this world, with iron wagons and ships which sail the sky, there are no more villages to plunder."

  "But, there are still battles to wage. The villages are bigger, but the fight is still the same."

  Gunnar took in a deep breath and let it out as he stared up at the stars. "I have led my entire life as a brave warrior, just so I would be rewarded with entrance into Valhalla."

  Prometheus placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "And one day, you will receive such an honor."

  The Viking turned to his dead brother. "You are from the city of thinkers. Tell me where my logic contains flaws. As one of the living, my job was to be fearless and brave. A glorious death in battle would mean eternal life in Valhalla with my ancestors. I would get to see my father again and show him how his son had grown into a strong warrior. All of this would happen after my death. I died in a battle against a tribe of Gauls. I fended off three of them at once so our women and children could seek shelter."

  "You are not only brave, but you are also courageous and regal."

  The Viking joined in staring at the city lights. "Thank you for your words of kindness, but my bravery is not what troubles me."

  "Then, my friend, what is the cause of your concern?"

  "As you have heard, I lived the life of a brave warrior and died heroically in battle. Because I am dead," he motioned his hand out toward the lights of the city, "this must be Valhalla."

  Prometheus did not respond right away. He tried to find the error in his friend's argument, but could not see any. "Perhaps, this is one last test of bravery before you enter your eternal life with your ancestors."

  Gunnar stared off in the distance as he walked away from the Athenian. His voice faded off as the distance between the two men increased. "If this is a final test, I must decide if I have the determination to continue the fight."

  As he watched the Viking step out into the darkness he called out, "Where are you going my friend?"

  As he waited for the answer, Prometheus noticed another living dead wandering into the dim light from the field. He turned his attention toward the newcomer. "Greetings friend, are you new to this world?"

  Slowly emerging in the yellow flicker from the candle flames, he saw a bloody and bewildered soldier appear. His dirty uniform had tears, scuffs and patches of dried blood. The military man with the short dark hair staggered up to Prometheus and asked with bewilderment across his face, "Am I a re-an?" He glanced at his clothes. "I mean, I feel like I'm still alive, but this is not my body."

  "It's okay, my friend. We have all gone through this adjustment period. Let's start with your name and from where do you hail?"

  The confused soldier scanned the front of the warehouse. "I'm Norman Patterson, I'm a judge." He held his hands out and looked at the
bloodstains. "Or, I guess I used to be a judge."

  "Are you from this time period or earlier?"

  "I'm from this time. It seems like it was only moments ago, a bunch of vile re-ans stormed my courtroom and killed me. One minute, I was behind my bench, and the next I was talking to the big man himself."

  "You are now one of us, my friend. Perhaps your view of our life will change. Have you been given a gift to pass on to the living?"

  "Yes, I carry the cure for all rhinoviruses, which would include the common cold." He turned from the warehouse back to Prometheus. "How does that work?"

  The crack of a stick from out in the dark field caught the attention of the Greek man. He called out to the darkness, "Gunnar, is that you?"

  With no reply, he turned his attention back to Judge Patterson. "Inside, you will find Princess Rachel; she will educate you on your new world."

  As the newcomer walked into the building, Prometheus heard more rustling in the bushes, just beyond the light. "Gunnar, are you out there?" The sound of muffled human voices told him that they were about to come under attack.

  He ran into the building and shouted, "The livings are here! They are spread out in the field and I fear they mean to attack."

  Greg ran toward Prometheus with his sword drawn and others grabbed manual weapons scattered around the building and followed. The samurai in the business suit, waved his arm and yelled, "Prometheus, take cover!"

  Prometheus ran toward a nearby large crate, as he saw a small army of the living pour through the door. The two armies collided in the center of the warehouse with the clash of their metal weapons. The Athenian curled up behind the cover and watched the battle take place before his eyes. The living used mostly axes and spears with some poorly made swords. One man who appeared to be their leader waved a machete. Only a few of them had modern guns, which they fired with no effect. As the two forces merged into battle, the fight reminded him of when the Spartans attacked Athens.