Our Undead

by Theo Vigo

  The zombies begin to pour out of the back exit, still led by the longhaired female, as two explosions go off one after the other; the propane tanks Billy rolled down the aisles. Margaret flinches, not expecting them. Billy yells at her to keep going and she begins to hop skip and jump into a little jog, encouraging Abe to keep moving as well. His coordination isn't the greatest, but he tries the best he can to keep up with her, doing a pretty good job and looking livelier than usual. But it still isn't enough and Margaret has to hold him by the wrist to make sure he doesn't get left behind. It doesn't take Billy very long to catch up with the both of them.

  Billy: Margaret, come on! That place is going to go up any second!

  Margaret: I'm not leaving Abe behind!

  The explosions inside the store cause the fire to spread much quicker, and the flames they spread are almost at the point of making contact with the propane tanks outside. More and more zombies pour out of the door, first normal ones and then ghouls on fire, all walking, and some evening jogging awkwardly toward the trio. These ones are an even greater danger, for they may blindly and prematurely ignite the extra tanks. Billy takes Margaret by her wrist and tries to pull her away from Abe.

  Billy: Come on!!!!

  Margaret: No, I can't!!

  Billy: He'll be fine! Let go of him and run!!

  Margaret: No!

  Billy: Come! ON!

  With one good thrust, Billy tugs on Margaret's wrist causing her to release Abe's. He falls to the ground, allowing Billy to pull Margaret along with him. She looks back at her friend, getting to his feet but decides to trust Billy and keep running. Abe is able to get up relatively quickly and follows after them as the fire gets closer and closer to the propane tanks outside, and then… *BOOM*… **KA-BOOM!!!** The whole building erupts into a mass inferno.

  The power from the blast stops both Billy and Margaret from running, and they hug each other, keeping their heads down as to not get hit by any flying debris. It is Margaret who takes the chance to look up and see if Abe is all right. She witnesses as the shock wave of the blast sends him flying through the air like a rag doll. He winds up landing about ten feet away from them, like a horrible, rolling cluster of limbs.

  Margaret: ABE!!

  She tries to release Billy so she can run over and see if Abe is all right, but Billy holds her back, pulling her back down into a huddle.

  Billy: WAIT!

  He is right to hold her back. Large pieces of flaming building and scrap metal rain from the sky, crashing all around. Fortunately, none are precise enough in connecting with their possible humans targets. When things seem to be settled enough, Margaret tries to break away from Billy again. This time he lets her go. He gets to his feet and stares at the building ablaze, examining the scene. The fire rages on and a few zombies are still walking, but all are on fire. He sees no sign of the female zombie that struck him as odd and feels content that his plan has played out successfully.

  Margaret kneels over Abe when she gets to him and rolls him over onto his back.

  Margaret: Ugh. Abe! Wake up!

  And with no regard for suspense, he does. His body has taken a lot more damage. Scraps and cuts have been added generously to his arms and face, but his eyes open up, and Margaret smiles into his grey pupils, tremendously relieved.

  Margaret: God.. What the hell was I worried about? You're a freaking zombie…

  She helps him to his feet and dusts him off. Billy joins them.

  Billy: I told you he'd be all right.

  Margaret: I worry, okay?

  Billy: Yea, it's okay… but we have to get moving.

  Margaret: Right. Come on, Abe.

  They head off and away from the massive fire, taking the long way around to get back to the highway. Tonight will be a long journey, one without much sleep, if they manage to get any at all. It is a good thing Margaret isn't as tired tonight.

  Zombies continue to spill out from the fire, but none pursue the fleeing group of three. The intense heat and lasting flames do their job well, burning the zombies down to the bone. The many that have escaped the building, run around aimlessly, but eventually give in to the fire and collapse. Plenty have already fallen, crawling around the parking lot, some still lit, some letting off a grey mist.

  One in particular stands out, the female that had led them. One of the smokers, she crawls as far away from the department store fire as she can, then flips over on to her back. Her already scrappy clothes have been badly burned and so has every inch of her body, but she remains vital. For the first time her face is revealed. It has gone through much damage and decay, and it is impossible to tell her identity, skin color, or ethnicity. All that is left of it is a melted down, seared visage, with the blackened skin pulled tightly to the skull. She groans as she lies on the concrete, sizzling, and then let's out one of her cries. It echoes into the starry night, an extra boost of motivation that keeps the three friends moving without repose.

  LAB RATS

  Back in the underground facilities of Sector 333-3, in one of the many stretches of attractively bright white tunnel, super soldier Erika Blaze and Gwen Gavine are being dropped off at a laboratory entrance with the professor's single crate of medical supplies. When the transport vehicle stops, both women hop out and Erika grabs the crate out of the back. The soldier in the passenger's seat runs out to meet her.

  Soldier: May I help you with that ma’am?

  Erika: No, I'm quite all right, thanks.

  He nods in compliance and turns to the professor.

  Soldier: Is there anything else we can do for you, Ms. Gavine?

  Gwen: Well, you could give your General a sturdy open-handed slap for me. That would be nice.

  Soldier: Uhhhh…

  Gwen: I'm just kidding, soldier. Perhaps one day he'll ask for it, and I'll be fortunate enough to be in the vicinity when he does.

  The soldier, who is just trying to help, is unsure how to respond to the malicious words directed at his superior. He does, however, sputter nonsensically.

  Gwen: You can go.

  Soldier: Uh, thank you, ma’am.

  The soldier nods politely at both women and jumps back into the passenger's seat of the white transportation truck, which takes off down the two-lane underground passage soon after. When they see it round a corner, Gwen leads Erika to the nearby entrance of her lab.

  Gwen: Are you sure you don't need a hand with that? Those crates are pretty heavy, and you're so petite.

  Erika: I'm fine, thank you.

  Gwen: You know, these soldiers are here to be used. You should've let him carry it. Why break your own back?

  Erika: Give a man an inch, and he'll take a mile. I'm fine, anyhow. Trust me, I've lifted things much heavier.

  Gwen: Really?! Well, I guess that's why you’re the super solider, and I'm the medical professor. Besides, you make a good point.. about men.

  Gwen finishes punching in the code for the door and it slides open in the same fashion as all the other high-tech entryways. They walk into the lab, which is far better lit than Doctor Alyster's and much cleaner. There are no shelves in this room, but five high desks with vials and test tubes on them, as well as five beds that look to be some sort of hybrid between hospital and examination. It is certain that many have fallen unconscious on them, but Erika is pretty sure that rest isn't one of their primary uses. The harnesses attached don't look very relaxing.

  At the far back end of the room are a few workmen desks with computers and papers piled high. A man sits at one of them clacking away at the keyboard, but Erika can only see the back of his head.

  Strewn throughout the room are more men, and another woman in scientific dress. Looking into a microscope and sitting by himself on a stool at the high desk farthest away from the entrance is an older Indian man, about sixty years of age. He looks very into whatever it is he is studying. Gwen and Erika approach a high desk, where two other doctors stand looking down at and scribbling on a piece of paper. One is a middle aged Spanis
h woman with a young face, and the other, a slender white male gifted with height. He too is middle aged, but his background is unclear. They pay no mind to Erika and the professor as they draw nearer.

  Rosa: Ah, ha!

  Gwen: Making some progress are we?

  Bernard: No… She just beat me in Tic-Tac-Toe.

  Rosa: I didn't just beat you in Tic-Tac-Toe. I flushed your ridiculous theory down the toilet.

  His accent reveals that the tall man is of British descent. The smaller lady sports a mild Spanish accent.

  Gwen: Theory? What theory? Why aren't you guys working?

  Rosa: This ignorant man claims that men have higher attention spans, and women lack the capacity to focus for an equivalent amount of time. So I challenged him to a game of Tic-Tac-Toe.

  Bernard: I stand by my word.

  Rosa: How can you do that when I just beat you?

  Bernard: Men have to concentrate more. It's fundamental biology. We tend to have to do things that require more condensed focus. Hunting, courting and mating require a tremendous degree of concentration if the male is to achieve a high rate of success. Females, on the other hand, have always been more skilled in things such as multi-tasking; collecting, sorting, that type of thing. They do these things well even simultaneously.

  Rosa: Ay, Dios mio. You are completely narrow-minded. How can you call yourself a man of science?

  Bernard: I am not narrow-minded. These are facts, and I don't see why you're getting so uptight. Men are good at one thing, and women, another. One should be aware of their innate and obligatory intelligences. If they were, it would make life on our planet run much smoother.

  Rosa: It's this type of mentality that holds women back from fulfilling their true potential. I would never be where am today if I thought like that.

  Bernard: Back from what, a happy husband and loving family? You're a brilliant woman, and I believe that women should follow their dreams. All I'm saying is that we should all know our place on the spectrum of sentience.

  Gwen: How can you talk about dreams when the world is suffering through a nightmare?

  Bernard: Mm, ennui?

  Gwen: You're telling me you can't find one productive thing to do? The supplies have arrived. Sort them. Oh, you can leave those here, Ms. Blaze.

  Erika finally places the crate on the floor, and for the first time is taken in by the confrontational doctors.

  Bernard: Who is this?

  Gwen: Erika Blaze. She was sent with The Mav-Elite.

  Bernard: Is that so?

  Gwen: That is exactly so. She's a super soldier, so I'd watch what you say about women around her.

  Bernard: Well, it's just gathering and sorting at a "super" level, isn't it? Dr. Bernard Winston. (offers his hand)

  Erika: Actually, I'm more into blowing things up. Nice to meet you. (shakes his hand)

  They lock eyes, and for a moment she is lost in an unexpected connection. The Englishman is much older than her, but there is something about his deep blue eyes and valiant accent that makes Blaze want to rip off his lab coat and show him what she could be really "super" at. Rosa tucks her pen into her coat's chest pocket and walks around to where Gwen and Erika are standing by the crate. She notices the spark of sexual tension.

  Rosa: Rosa Garza. Pleasure to meet you. Don't be deceived by his discernible charms. A very smug man hides behind them.

  She casts a snide look at Dr. Winston and shakes hands with Erika.

  Erika: Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It's a pleasure to meet you. Erika Blaze.

  Rosa: Is this all?

  Rosa motions at the single crate in confusion.

  Gwen: This is it.

  Rosa kneels in front of the crate and opens it up.

  Rosa: It's a nice little treat, but… there's no way this will last testing through the final sixty-five subjects.

  Gwen: I know.

  Rosa: Well, didn't you tell Feleid-

  Gwen: Of course I told Feleider, but I'm beginning to think that man couldn't care less about discovering a cure for this virus. (sighs) Just do what you can with this for now.

  Bernard: Yes, you do that… I'll be perusing the invalid's quarters. Ladies.

  Doctor Winston bids the women adieu, giving Erika some extra eye contact and leaves the room.

  Rosa: That pompous-

  Gwen: Alright, alright. Just get that stuff sorted.

  After Professor Gavine gives her orders, she walks through the high desks towards the ones farther back. Erika follows her, leaving Rosa to sort through the crate by herself.

  Erika: For such a large epidemic, there aren't many of you doctors here.

  Gwen: Although we have been doing some blood testing, productivity has been delayed for reasons I'm pretty sure you are now aware of. Most of the doctors are taking care of the sick. Frankly, they're better off there where they're needed. The minds in this room are more than capable of finding a cure for this thing. Isn't that right, Rohan?

  The old Indian man raises his head away from the lens, and his bulging eyes ogle the professor and super soldier. The grey hair on his head is thinning to the point of not really being there at all, and his face is not very welcoming.

  Rohan: That is quite correct and accurate. Who is this?

  His thick accent has a pleasant but "too the point" tone about it. He speaks very quickly, without pausing.

  Gwen: Doctor Rohan Verma, may I introduce you to Erika Blaze. She's one of those special task force super hero types.

  Erika: A pleasure.

  Rohan: Likewise.

  Gwen: Any progress with this thing, Verma?

  Rohan: I wish I could tell you that I've found the cause of this viral infection, Gwen, I really do, but I can't find anything wrong with the blood work of these first thirty-five test subjects. Besides the ones that have… well, this girl knows the deal - the ones that have died and resurrected. Their blood is useless. It might as well be bile, but even before the subjects pass, there is nothing in their blood that would stimulate a viral infection. No viral infection. There is no virus in them.

  Gwen: But that's impossible. Influenza is the first stage all these troops have been going through, and then afterward just escalating degrees until they pass and turn. What could it possibly be if not a viral infection?

  Erika: Hold on. You're testing on real people?

  Gwen: Unfortunately, Feleider wasn't exaggerating when he said we've lost many fighters to this outbreak. Many of the infected die out there, but those who make it back are required to donate their bodies to our research. It's a bit sad, but their lives have pretty much already been taken from them.

  Erika: You mean they don't have a choice?

  Gwen: They're going to die either way you look at it, unless we can find the reason for all of this, which can happen with a little more delving; it has to.

  Erika: But you said that some have passed and turned.

  Gwen: Yes… The change has been the inevitable fate of many of our infected patients and will be for a few more, respectively, but it's just as critical we study their bodies after the transformation as before it. We need to learn as much as possible.

  Erika: The poor souls have become lab rats.. and the poor men that have to exterminate their allies when you doctors are finished poking and prodding them.

  Gwen: No, no, we wouldn't do that. When the time comes to put subjects to sleep, they are injected.. by us.

  Erika: I guess that's a little more humane, but what's this about "when the time comes"?

  Gwen: When the time comes to terminate the patients who have already turned.

  Erika: Are you saying that you have the walking infected stowed away somewhere in this compound? Isn't that… crazy? There are civilians living here.

  Gwen: We keep them safely contained, Ms. Blaze. The people have nothing to worry about, at least, on that end. We need them alive, or at least animated for proper analysis. But again, we keep them separate and immobile.

  Erika: If yo
u say so.

  Gwen: So what do you suppose our next step is, Doctor Verma?

  Rohan: My first guess would be extinction, Ms. Gavin, but if I can do some more studying on those undead fellows, I might be able to come up with another hypothesis.

  Gwen: Then that's what you need to do. Doctor Keung will assist you.

  Keung: Did I here my name?

  Erika hears a thick oriental accent coming from behind them and sees the man who was sitting at the computer looking at them from his desk, a Chinese man with glasses and a happy face. He gets up and walks over to them.