Zoe, Undead

by J. R. Knoll

  They both just nodded.

  As if responding to his voice, the shower turned off and the curtain was loudly opened, and all eyes went that way. No more sound could be heard for long seconds, then a sniff and what sounded like the girl sobbing.

  With no clothing or towel to cover her, Zoe pulled the door all the way open, her eyes finding Tex right away. She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she wept. She was still wet from her shower and her body quaked with sobs as she cried.

  He looked bewildered and embarrassed as he looked back to the doctors with uncharacteristically wide eyes, holding his hands away from the gray, naked girl who clung stubbornly to him.

  "It won't come off!" she cried. "I washed as hard as I could and it won't come off!"

  "Wha… Um…" he stammered. "What won't come off?"

  "The gray on me!" she shouted. "It's all over me and it won't come off!"

  He placed his free hand hesitantly on her back and looked to Doctor Caswell, clearly not knowing what to do.

  The Doctor huffed a deep breath and shook her head, pushing off of the bed as she made her way to the bathroom. "I think it's medication time."

  The colonel strode into the room, dressed in his camouflage field attire with a pistol at his side, and stopped just inside the doorway and barked, "Sergeant, what the hell are you doing?"

  Getting Zoe calmed down and into bed was something of an undertaking, but she was finally dressed in the scrubs they had found for her and tucked in beneath the sheet and blanket. Her medication seemed to be working and her hysterics faded away. With the lights out and only the light from the hallway illuminating the room, everything seemed peaceful as Sergeant Tex and Doctor Kavorski stood by the door and awaited Doctor Caswell, who stood by the bed with her elbow leaning on it.

  As she combed her fingers through the girl's hair, Rachel soothed, "Shh. Just close your eyes and try to get some sleep, okay?"

  Zoe stared back at her and just nodded. The expression she wore was one that could often be found on a little girl, not a teenager of seventeen years. She was clearly frightened and confused and in a slight voice she asked, "Can we go to my house tomorrow and get my parents and my brother?"

  Nodding hesitantly, Rachel assured, "We'll look into that, okay? You just get some sleep tonight and we'll talk about what we're going to do tomorrow."

  "Okay," the girl whispered. As she watched Doctor Caswell turn and stride for the door, she suddenly barked, out, "Can you leave a light on?"

  Rachel and the two men exchanged looks, then she glanced at the girl, reached into the bathroom and turned the light on, then she closed the door nearly all the way, leaving it open about a foot before she waggled her fingers at the girl and left the room behind the men, leaving the door to the room open about a foot as well.

  **

  The conference room was clearly designed to be comfortable with padded chairs surrounding the oval table, paintings on the walls and thin carpet on the floor. There were two doors, one into the room and one that was closed and led into an office at the back of the room. Two windows on one wall gave a good few of the outside and the fluorescent lights overhead illuminated it well.

  Sitting at the head of the conference table was the Colonel, who flipped through reports as the others got settled. Doctor Caswell sat beside him, Doctor Kavorski across from her, a lieutenant beside Kavorski and Sergeant Tex beside Caswell.

  Looking up from the reports, the Colonel swept his gaze from left to right and started, "Okay, boys and girls, here's the situation: We have a lot of movement from the local zombies here in the city and we're sure that about eighty percent of the population is either dead or infected. Word from the Pentagon is that most of the world is infected and those of us who aren't are being hunted by those who are. We also know that if they don't feed regularly they tend to starve and can't continue for more than about thirty days without food. That's the good news."

  Doctor Kavorski continued for him, "We know they are kept going by a high protein diet and that they can get it almost anywhere. They don't just eat us, but animals as well, fish and cattle and whatever they can get their hands on. Bovine creatures and other vegetarians are not affected, only meat eaters. Thankfully, we don't have reports that rodents are affected at all and the virus does not appear to be transmitted by mosquitoes or fleas or other parasites of that nature. It seems to be only transmitted through the bite of an infected subject." He looked to Doctor Caswell.

  Rachel had her reading glasses in her hand as she stared down at her own reports, and she drew a deep breath before she spoke. "Here's what we know: The virus attacks the brain first, and we also know that the infected tend to want to eat the brain of their victim first. We have theories about why, but the bottom line is that is where the virus wants to go first. Anyone who is attacked and bitten is already doomed, even if they get away from the zombies.

  "It works by going right to the brain, and once there it begins to reorganize the brain and rewrite the cerebellum to make the victim do what it needs for it to do. It completely destroys all cognitive ability and conscious thought within a few hours, and once the brain is under control then it quickly reproduces using brain tissue that it doesn't need, like the cerebral cortex, and this produces a new virus, one that goes down into the body following the spinal cord, spinal nerves and such. The heart and other vital organs are taken over, metabolism is virtually shut down and the virus controls the body from its central command."

  "The brain," the lieutenant concluded.

  "Exactly," Doctor Caswell confirmed. "It's so fast that any effort to inoculate an infected person is futile. Vaccines to build the body's immune system could take decades to develop."

  "We don't have that kind of time," the Colonel grumbled. "We're facing the extinction of the human race within six months if we don't find some way to stop it."

  The Sergeant raised his chin and grimly informed, "It seems the best way to stop it is to kill every zombie out there, and that ain't looking too promising. We can machine gun the hell out of one, but unless we score a critical head shot they just keep coming."

  "And their bodies heal in a matter of hours," Doctor Kavorski informed, "sometimes minutes if the wound isn't too severe. They seem to quit healing if they haven't fed well, but otherwise we're looking at creatures we have a hard time killing."

  The Colonel's eyes slid to Kavorski. "And then there's the one you have downstairs. You said they lose all cognitive ability in the first few hours after they're infected. Why hasn't that one?"

  Rachel folded her hands on the table and leaned forward, answering, "We have a working theory on that and we're going to test her more tomorrow to see how true it is."

  "And what's your theory?" the Colonel growled.

  "Colonel," she began, "are you familiar with Asperger's Syndrome?" When he shook his head, she continued, "Asperger's is a high functioning form of autism. In autistic people, the brain works differently, and we think that the virus was unable to effectively rewrite her brain because of it. In Zoe's case, we know that the virus got into her brain and did what it could, but that initial virus spawns others that have different tasks in the body, and then it dies off. Its lifespan only seems to be a few hours, so it rewrote what it could, but then it had to move on to the next phase. Her body did succumb to the zombosis, but after that her brain continued to try and recover. While she's still fundamentally a zombie, she is also still an autistic seventeen year old girl who is subject to all that comes with it."

  "Like?" the Colonel asked with some suspicion in his voice.

  Rachel answered, "Well, those with autism follow certain routines, and they follow them rather aggressively. If those routines are disrupted then they… Well, they are subject to emotional meltdowns. Zoe is on medication to help control these outbursts of anger and frustration as most others are and we can't be sure if it is the medication or the autism that stopped the virus from rewriting her brain, so at t
his point we are keeping her on it."

  "All of the scientific mumbo jumbo aside," the Colonel growled, "what kind of threat does she pose to us here? And why is she not restrained like the others in the lab are?"

  "She's asleep," Doctor Caswell replied.

  Kavorski added, "We know that zombies don't sleep. They will go inactive after they've fed and sometimes if they are unable to find food, but actual sleep is not something we have observed in them. Zoe drifted off into full REM sleep in about twenty minutes, just like anyone else would."

  "And asked us to leave a light on," Sergeant Tex said. "I haven't seen anything beyond her appearance that even hints at her being a moaner."

  "Yet, Sergeant Morris," the Colonel added. "What I need to know is will she suddenly become like the rest of them and try to eat someone without warning?"

  Kavorski shrugged and admitted, "There's no way to know for sure. It's been almost five days and she's still mentally and emotionally normal, normal for an autistic girl, anyway."

  A slight smile curled Rachel's mouth as she stared down at her papers and added, "I think she even has a little crush on Sergeant Morris."

  This did not bring a welcome expression from the Sergeant, but others in the room laughed under their breath.

  Doctor Caswell continued, "She wants to go to her house tomorrow and see if her parents are all right. I think we could find some vital clues there to help us fight this thing."

  The lieutenant added, "There's also been quite a bit of zombie activity there, so it might be a good opportunity to take a platoon in and wipe some of them out before they discover us holed up in the hospital."

  "We don't need another Chicago or Vegas," the Colonel grumbled.

  "What if there are still people out there expecting help from us?" Doctor Caswell asked.

  Sergeant Morris nodded and agreed, "I think it might be a good idea to send patrols out and look for strongholds where people might be trying to defend themselves."

  "I'll bet that's where we're seeing the most activity," the Lieutenant suggested. "We go to those areas and I'll bet we'll find some people who are hanging on. We might even be able to take out a good number of moaners all at once."

  "We'll work on it," the Colonel assured. "First thing we'll need to do is visit the armory over at the base again and get more weapons and munitions, then we can think about arming others who have good defensible positions and try to get more of a network established. Lieutenant, start working up a battle plan to retake the base, get us some more firepower and build this resistance network. If we play our cards right we may even be able to take the whole damn city back." He stood and ordered, "Okay, people. Let's get some shut eye and get back to work in the morning." An ominous look was on his face as he scanned the people who were just standing. "I want this city under control and back in the hands of the living by the end of the month. That means we have a hell of a lot of work to do."

  "And Zoe?" Rachel asked.

  His eyes slid to her and he nodded. "We'll find some way to use her to our advantage."

  CHAPTER 3

  Zoe automatically woke at about the same time every morning and at just after six, as she lay curled up on her side beneath the sheet and thin blanket of the hospital bed. Facing the window, she slowly opened her eyes, looking to the early morning glow that was outside. Without looking at the clock, she knew it was time to get up.

  She drew a deep breath and pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes as she swung her feet to the floor. In a moment she was fully awake and alert and she looked around her. The routine she was used to following was still something she could look forward to and she slipped out of bed and walked to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth and take care of the other business she needed to in the morning. When she emerged, she saw her shorts and pink tee shirt lying on a chair across the room and stripped off the scrubs she wore to put them on.

  Once she was dressed, she padded to the door and gingerly pulled it open, finding two soldiers right outside who trained their weapons on her as soon as they could see her.

  Her eyes shifted from one to the next and she cringed slightly, drawing her shoulders up as she asked in a meek voice, "Is Tex or Rachel up yet?"

  They took her to the hospital lobby, which was now a staging area for the Zombie Response Team. A dozen soldiers were preparing to go out, checking gear, loading weapons and assembling the equipment they would take with them. A few comfortable chairs remained, but most of the furnishings in the middle of the room had been moved out and replaced with three rows of tables with folding legs, and this is where most of the equipment was laid out. The front of the information desk had weapons lined up across it with the butt stocks on the floor and the barrels held six inches apart by some keepers that had been screwed in place there. It was a strange mix of welcoming comfort and military readiness.

  As they stepped off of the elevator and into the lobby, all activity stopped and everyone's attention found them. Zoe was oblivious as she saw the one she was looking for, and she hurried over to him as he picked up an empty magazine to start filling with bullets. Reaching him, she lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders up slightly, grasping a lock of hair with one hand that she began twisting in her fingers.

  "Hey there, Kiddo," he greeted.

  She waggled her fingers at him, still staring at the floor as she said, "Hi. Um, it's breakfast time."

  "Oh," he said with a nod. "Well, I ate about an hour ago, so I'm good."

  Zoe's shoulders drooped slightly and she mumbled, "Oh. Okay." She turned toward the elevator and padded that way as she said in a low voice, "Bye."

  "Zoe," a woman's voice called.

  Recognizing that voice as Rachel's, Zoe stopped halfway to the elevator door and turned to see Doctor Caswell, back in black commando gear, striding toward her.

  "Maybe you can help us," the Doctor suggested. "Do you want to help?"

  Zoe shrugged and said in a meek voice, "Okay." She was still staring at the floor.

  Another soldier approached them, one brandishing an M-16, and he looked down to the girl, his eyes narrowing as he snarled, "How do you expect a zombie to be of any help to us? We're supposed to be killing them, not asking them for advice."

  Drawing her shoulders up again, Zoe backed away and tried to turn to the elevator, but his gloved hand grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

  "Got an appetite for brains, zombie?" he spat. When she just cringed and did not answer, he pushed her back and trained his weapon on her, pressing the muzzle against her head as he barked, "I have a problem with you being here among the living. Maybe I'll fix that."

  Rachel ordered, "Lower that weapon and get away from her." When he just looked toward her, her lips drew away from her teeth and she loudly said, "Now, Private!"

  "I don't think I take orders from you, lady," he informed.

  Sergeant Morris informed from behind him, "You do take orders from me, Private. Now sling that weapon and get back to your detail."

  The private withdrew his weapon and turned around. Quite a bit shorter than the Sergeant he squared off against, he still looked up at him without showing any intimidation and countered, "Sure thing, Sarge. We wouldn't want your little moaner girlfriend to get the wrong idea, would we?"

  This clearly irritated Morris and he took a step closer, looming over the smaller man as he said in a voice that would remind one of a coming storm, "You got something to say, grunt?"

  With a shrug, the private replied, "Not at all, Sarge. I just prefer my women a little more… I don't know, alive. Of course, that jail bait prom age moaner you got—"

  Tex poked the smaller man hard in the chest. "You might want to be real careful around me, Junior, or I may just introduce you to some moaners who like it a little rough, if you know what I mean." He took another half step toward the private, forcing him to retreat a step, and he said in a low voice, "You get out of line with me one time and I'll bleed you and leave your ass out there for a little moa
ner buffet, you get me?"

  The fear in the private's eyes was evident, but still he smiled and took a step back, assuring, "Just havin' some fun with ya, Sarge. You know I got your back." With a little laugh, he turned and strode back to the tables with the equipment.

  Seemingly oblivious to the exchange, Zoe smiled and pointed to Morris' back as she exclaimed, "Those are my initials!"

  Once again, all activity and talking ceased and everyone looked her way.

  Her attention stayed on Sergeant Morris as she said, "Z. R. T. Zoe Rebecca Templeton."

  One of the other soldiers still checking equipment pointed out, "Well, it's good to know we finally have us a mascot."

  Zoe was taken to the conference room by Doctor Caswell and Tex and there they met with the Colonel. When everyone was seated, it was the Doctor who spoke first.

  "Okay, Zoe," Rachel started, "we need to know a few things about what happened at the grocery store. You were in there with several other zombies, right?"

  Zoe shook her head and corrected, "I was there for a few days by myself. They came in the same day you did and I was really scared."

  The Colonel asked, "Did any of them try to attack you?"

  Looking down to the table, Zoe tried to remember, then she shook her head. "No sir. They wanted to get to the deli I think. One of them grabbed me but I think he just wanted to move me out of the way. I bumped into one and he just walked around me. I was still pretty scared."

  "Zombies won't eat other zombies," Sergeant Morris pointed out, "even pretty little zombies who aren't completely one of them."

  Zoe bit her lip and began twisting that lock of hair, a smile on her face as she just stared at the table before her.

  "Could be useful," the Colonel concluded. "You think she could recon areas for us before we send in troops?"

  Looking that way, Zoe asked, "What does that mean?"

  "That means," he explained, "you go in first and tell us what you see, that way if there are any zombies in the area you tell us how many so that we'll know how to respond."