PART OF THE ZOMBIE WATCH IN MY TOWN. I NEED TO HELP.
“Well,” the doctor gave me a fake toothy smile, “I’m sure they’ll be fine without you for one or two days, or however long it takes.”
Baa-aad feeling. Think fast.
DOCTOR – YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I AM GETTING HUNGRY. It was kind of true, actually. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THE ONLY THING IS I CAN EAT?
The doctor’s fake smile faded. He shook his head, “Well, this is a hospital after all, I’m sure we can arrange something!”
I CAN’T EAT DEAD BODIES, I typed. It was true. And a real good excuse to get my zombie ass out of there. YOU HAVE A NURSE YOU COULD SPARE?
I didn’t mean the question, and he was quick to get the rhetoric behind it.
I EAT ZOMBIES.
“We could – bring you one?” the doctor said.
YEAH I’M SURE THAT WOULD FLY.
FOR YOU AND YOUR STAFF’S SAFETY, GET ME OUT OF HERE IMMEDIATELY. WHEN I GET HUNGRY, THE ZOMBIE SIDE TAKES OVER. I DON’T WANT ANYONE HURT, AND I WANT TO BE ABLE TO BE IN CONTROL AND COOPERATE.
The doctor looked me up and down, concerned. Quite concerned. Fine…
WE CAN WORK ON THIS ANOTHER DAY, DOCTOR.
The doctor agreed on that concept with a small nod, as he eyed some traces of bloodstains around my mouth.
Okay – I do try to keep myself somewhat “unbloody”, I’m not into the whole zombie bloody thing – but I’m not perfect.
“All right, Mr. Henry!” he said conclusively. “We will postpone further examinations until I heard word back from my lab on these readings. And thank you very much!”
This is where a doctor offers his hand in handshake, but he didn’t reach any bit toward me. He did give me that fake toothy smile again, though. I had a brief consideration to zombie punch him.
It was a very interesting experience getting escorted out of the medical facility. Which, by the way, was just as interesting as getting in. You see, a zombie looks quite different than any other human of any other disease. There was just no excuse to what I looked like. So I was transferred from home by an ambulance, and then laid on a rolling medical bed covered in a white sheet like a dead body. Then from the ambulance to the medical room, I was transported in this way. So this routine, in reverse, is how I got home. Not only to not raise alarm in the medical facility, but I think I was still kind of secret until “the authorities” were able to figure me out. I went along with it…
“You’re on VidTube!” Eric said excited and amused, to my face, when I got back in the house.
Um…so much for the secret part of my life…
“Come on!” Eric said, slapping me on the shoulder and running up the stairs to his room. I followed him up.
We went to his sweet little computer setup. He went clicking away to pull up the video. “Looks like someone got you on a cell-phone cam!”
I watched the video. It was me. The zombie me. In jeans and army cameos and that green metal helmet, with my sledge hammer – which I had become proficient in swinging, by the way.
Yep, there’s me in that little video, clubbing in some zombie heads.
Then it showed a shot of my talking with one of the zombie watch soldiers via keyboard toy.
Then the camera went in for a close up on me and my face, but it didn’t come to me like its holder approached me; I walked by it.
Hey, I remember that last shot. It was from one of the zombie watch soldiers. I didn’t know he was videoing me – thought he was making a phone call or something, really. I had walked by him, ignoring him staring at me. He’ll probably get fired…
“The video was posted this morning. By lunch, ten thousand hits. By dinner, like one million hits!” Eric sounded quite excited.
I wasn’t too excited. I went downstairs, and Eric followed me like a puppy dog.
“I had to disconnect the phone,” Dad said, frustrated, regarding the VidTube sensation. “Phone was going off the hook. Some people recognized you and posted who you were, now I’m getting all sorts of whack phone calls! I’m really concerned!”
“Some band – I forget their name but they are huge: Undead-something – their agent called, wanting you in their music video!”
“Eric!” dad tried to cut him off sternly, “the attention right now is not a wanted thing!”
But that didn’t curb Eric’s enthusiasm. “Several news agencies called, wanting to interview you!”
Knock, knock, went the door. I looked at the door. Then at dad. Dad looked at Eric. “Dad’s just freaking out from all the hype,” he said as he walked over to open the door up, “settle down, dad, it happens!”
“No it doesn’t,” dad argued.
Eric opened the door. It was a zombie watch soldier, who was much bigger than me – but, probably much weaker. He had a cell phone to his helmeted head. “Sir, I’m in,” he replied to the other end of the cell phone. He looked over at me, and handed me the cell phone. I gave him a funny look. “Oh, right, you can’t speak,” he said, and punched the speaker button on the cell phone.
“Go ahead, sir,” the soldier said to the phone he held in hand in the middle of all of us.
“This is Gregory Bryle from National Security,” came an authoritative voice through the speaker. “Alex Henry has become an international concern. You, the Henry family, are not to communicate to anyone regarding Alex Henry’s situation, not verbally, not via Internet. Disconnect all phone lines and Internet lines, and do not leave the house for the next 16 hours. At 0600, helicopter transport will arrive at your location. Alex Henry is to come with us. You will not make any attempt to find Alex Henry until further notice. Financial compensation will be considered.
“I apologize for any familial grievance I may cause for this severance,” came Gregory Bryle’s voice, which sounded about as monotone and unsympathetic as my keyboard toy, “but this is a matter of international welfare. It is not only your patriotic duty to carry out these orders, but it will be enforced by our great nation’s military. Thank you.”
No one said anything. The soldier with the cell phone was just as wordless. He didn’t even move his cell phone from its poise.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding much more human than the National Security guy. “I know how much drama must have been introduced into your family with all that has happened so far. I don’t want to make it any harder. Me and the boys will let you be for the time you have. Please say your farewells.”
As warming as he tried to be, I regarded him quite coldly. What a damn condemnation. I’m already a zombie – leave me alone!
A deep growl seeped from my gritted zombie mouth.
The soldier tensed up. So did I. I was pissed. Zombie pissed.
“Alex,” dad said softly, as he placed a hand on my shoulder. I forced my mind to relax. My growling stopped.
And the alarmed soldier likewise kept his cool, and left the house.
I'm Kind of A Zombie Page 9
