Our New Computer Overlords

Three links on how computers will replace our white-collar labor force long before robots steal our blue-collar jobs.

The first comes from Paul Krugman:

Anyway, I decided to write the piece around a conceit: that information technology would end up reducing, not increasing, the demand for highly educated workers, because a lot of what highly educated workers do could actually be replaced by sophisticated information processing — indeed, replaced more easily than a lot of manual labor.

[...] In my mind this raises several questions. One is whether emphasizing education — even aside from the fact that the big rise in inequality has taken place among the highly educated — is, in effect, fighting the last war. Another is how we have a decent society if and when even highly educated workers can’t command a middle-class income.

The second also comes from Paul Krugman, and I particularly like it for this table:

"This is real, and it calls some of our favorite platitudes into question," Krugman says.

Brad DeLong, on the other hand, has an excellent post in which economics and history triumph over cynicism (and yes, it's a lot like intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism):

We have already gone through the great transformation by which the general business of life--growing and processing our food, building our shelter, weaving our clothes, and telling ourselves stories for information and entertainment--has been extroardinarily [sic], comprehensively automated. And yet we have found things to do.

 Either way, I'd say this is the best argument yet for the long term viability of a career in the humanities!

Life-Saving Immorality?

Your taxpayer dollars at work.

Brad DeLong thinks that taxing people in order to prevent an asteroid from destroying the human race is entirely appropriate and moral. He quotes Bob Murphy, on the other hand, as disagreeing:

[T]here is a general moral prohibition against violating another person's rights.... Volokh's... point should be obvious: Just because an asteroid threatens to destroy all human life, that alone is not sufficient to justify violating people's rights. [...] The reason DeLong finds Volokh's views "insane" is that Volokh has elevated his precious political principles to such a height that they trump the survival of the human race. What an ideologue!

DeLong summarily rejects this sort of thinking, summarizing his view as follows:

[...] the sabbath was made for humanity; humanity was not made for the sabbath.

Commentor Daniel Kuehn has a lot to say in response to this position, and particularly to the logic of the position:

If you start where they do - axiomatically defining what a "right" is and defining "immorality" as being the violation of that right - then both the Volokh and Murphy version of the argument follows naturally.

The problem is not the logic itself - that logic is simple enough. The problem is their decision to apply that logic to this circumstance. Deductive logic is a tool - we have long since passed the point where we can claim that it deserves any deeper epistemological priority. [...]  Logic is not a tool for them, as most careful thinkers know it should be. For them it is a path, not to truth contingent on assumptions [I would prefer to refer to this as consistent reasoning or logical validity - N], but to some deeper absolute truth. [...] So to expand on your concluding thought, deductive logic is a tool for humanity, and not the other way around.

Tad Brennan points out that, far from being a primarily political debate, the conflict here is between purely deontological ethics and purely consequentialist ethics, and that the latter lends itself to some problems, as well:

If you eschew lexically-ordered side-constraints, then you have a very pure form of consequentialism. And that's not a bad thing! Some of my best friends espouse pure consequentialism! 

But pure consequentialism can generate some pretty repellent hypotheticals of its own (catalogued by Bernard Williams and others: false conviction of the innocent; harvesting organs from the unwilling; torture of children; etc. etc.).

When people recoil from the consequences of pure consequentialism and consider adopting categorical prohibitions on, e.g., the torture of children, this does not seem to me ipso facto insane.

Finding the right balance of ethical views for the Christian is never as simple and easy as it seems, which is why Christian maturity is a big deal. But this is a circumstance when, again, I don't think Christianity came come down on the side of moral libertarianism.

PS - For those looking for a quick summary of deontology vs. consequentialism in terms we can all understand, may I suggest Mark White, aka The Comics Professor, on the morality of Captain America, Iron Man, and Spiderman!

Japanese Earthquake-Tsunami Links

One week after the fact, I don't have a lot to say about the disaster, other than it is terrible. Please be praying for the people in Sendai and areas even closer to the epicenter.

I do, however, have some summary information I have been following.

Here is an amazing visual before and after comparison.

Ilan Noy provides a way to think about the economic impact of a disaster.

James Hamilton expands on this discussion of the economic impact, including some links of his own.

Will Wilkinson offers his summary of the economic disaster literature.

Christopher Beam on the lack of looting.

Bill McBride has several links on the nuclear concerns.

Robin  Hanson argues for a counter-intuitive response to the nuclear dangers.

Laura Freschi wants you to think carefully about your aid donations.

Finally, here's a brief video showing some of the impact of the Tsunami:

The Days of Miracle and Wonder

Walter Newman stared at Rose blankly.
"UUGGHH!"
Rose had no chance to think about the horrifying image before her, as a zombie ran up from behind Walter-zombie and jumped on top of her. They fell to the ground as the zombie leaned in to bite her. Rose was barely able to shove her club between the creature's jaws. The zombie was strong; it was all Rose could do to keep its head off of her as its hands began to tear into the skin of her shoulders.
As suddenly as it had landed on her, the zombie was yanked off of her and into the air. Walter-zombie had picked up her attacker and thrown it against a nearby tree with enough force to crack the skull of normal human. Of course, these ghoulish zombies were made of sterner stuff, and it recovered and jumped, this time at Walter. It sank its teeth deep into Walter-zombie's shoulder, tearing straight through the strap of his backpack.
Walter, seemingly unphased, pushed the zombie's head back with one hand and leaned in with his own. Walter-zombie's body obscured Rose's view of what happened next, but the zombie uttered a horrifying shriek and fell to the ground, limp. When Walter-zombie turned around, he had blood running down his chin.
"Walter? Are you still in there?" Rose asked a moment of adrenaline-fueled hopefulness. She struggles to her feet, maintaining a firm grip on the club. "Walter, if there's anything left of you in there..."
"UUGGHH!" Walter-zombie lunged toward her clumsily, grasping at her with a hand bearing an old scar resembling a bite mark. He opened his jaw hungrily.
For all her false hopes, Rose had not lost her wits. She immediately struck Walter-zombie's elbow, forcing his outstretched arm away from her. In his moment of imbalance, she swung with all her might at his chest. Walter-zombie tumbled backwards to the sound of his own ribs cracking, his dangling backpack falling to the ground. The contents of the pack spilled to the ground, including a wet pair of old socks and a small medical pack. Instinctively, Rose grabbed the medkit before running for a nearby clearing.
Stopping to catch her breath, Rose looks at the medkit. The moon was only half full, but it was still bright enough to read the two bold words on the cover: "Restorative Reagent." Opening the kit, Rose saw a small nebulizer mask and six inhaler cylinders designed to attach to it.
"What is... it can't be..." Rose muttered to herself. She began to attach one of the cylinders to the mask, forgetting for a moment what she had been running from. Too long a moment.
Walter-zombie seized her by the shoulders from behind. Rose nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her club and the medkit. Rose twisted around, struggling to get free. She hit Walter-zombie in the chest and realized she had managed to hold on to the mask with attached cylinder. Rose pushed it up to Walter-zombie's face and fired the inhaler.
Walter-zombie slapped Rose's hand, knocking the inhaler away from his face as it fired. Rose shot a glance at the medkit on the ground, with five cylinders sitting in it securely. She then did something all her instincts and experience told her never to try: Rose head-butted a zombie.
Walter-zombie fell backwards to the ground, pulling Rose down with him. Rose pulled free and frantically began swapping a new cylinder into the mask. Walter-zombie grabbed her foot, and raised his head to bite it. Rose spun around, shoved the mask onto the hungry zombie's face, and fired.
Walter-zombie pulled back, coughing furiously. He began scrambling about on the ground, like a sleep-running dog. His eyes began to tear. He vomited.
"UUGGHH! UUUUUGgggghh. UUumm..." Walter rolled over, face down in the grass and dirt.

"Are you coming around again? You look dehydrated, try to drink some water this time, OK?"
Walter Newman opened his eyes. He wondered for a moment if he were still dreaming. The sky was crisp and blue in the aftermath of the sunrise. He heard Rose Redding's voice.
"Sorry I haven't got anything to eat," Rose said. "You're probably starving."
"No," Walter said groggily. He turned to look at his friend. "I'm not hungry. For the first time in a long time, I think. It feels good not to be hungry."
"Walter," Rose said, "I wasn't sure if you were actually awake this time. Here, drink this."
Walter took a drink from a small bottle of water, swished it around his mouth, then spit it out. He took another drink and forced himself to swallow this time.
"You have to drink something," Rose said.
"My mouth tastes like blood," Walter said. "I don't entirely remember why. Don't think I want to."
"Do you remember it?" Rose asked.
"Yeah," Walter said. "Sort of. It was surreal, dream-like. But I think I know what it meant now." Walter shuddered.
"What..." Rose trailed off. "Maybe I don't want to know, but what did it feel like?"
"Which part, dying? Or coming back?" Walter said. Rose didn't answer him.
"'In restless dreams, I walked alone,'" Walter said, "'Narrow streets of cobblestone.' You know, like in the song."
"Yeah," Rose said.
Walter looked around. In the distance he could see a small farmhouse surrounded by a pond. "We should check that house for supplies before we..."
"We can't go to that house," Rose said. Her face was grave.
Walter nodded. "Fair enough. I guess you have some stories to tell, yourself."
Tears just began to touch Rose's eyes, the first since the nightmare began. "I just wish I were home. You know? Isn't that a song too? 'I wish I was'?"
Walter nodded again. "Home," he began to sing, "where my thought's escaping..."
"Home," Rose begain to join him, "where my music's playing; Home, where my love lies waiting silently for me."

"We have to get back to them," Walter said. "If they've followed the plan they're probably almost ready to leave for the lake."
"Almost ready?" Rose said. "Walter, we've been gone for months. It's spring."
"It's..." Walter said, unaware that he had lost so much time. He wondered how his family was. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. If they follow the plan they won't be safe."
"Because some of the zombies can swim, you mean?" Rose asked.
"Ghouls," Walter said. "The ghouls can swim, which means they can get into the camp even though the revenants can't."
"Revenants?" Rose said.
"The slower ones," Walter said. "There's a cure for the revenants, but not for ghouls. And revenants can kill ghouls. I think that's why they're here, why this all happened: to stop the ghouls."
"If that's true, we have to warn everyone," Rose said.
"Exactly, we've got to mo..." Walter began to say before gripping his stomach, turning from Rose, and vomiting. When he'd finished, Rose offered him the water to rinse his mouth. "It seems I'm not going to be much help for a while other than telling what I know. I guess there's a small return to normalcy in that," he said, grinning.
Rose smiled. "I'll protect you."
"That's a song too, I think," Walter said. "'If you'll be my bodyguard, I can be your long lost pal.'"
Rose laughed. "Let's go, 'Al.' "


It took some time for them to reach the lake, but once they were there it wasn't hard to spot the compound. Reed had the location spotted out almost as soon as it was discovered that revenants don't swim. The lake was large enough to support several small islands, with one only about 50 feet from the shore line at its closest point. Close enough for a temporary bridge to allow heavy equipment onto the island for construction. The interwoven buildings of the compound towered several stories high, with a patchwork wall of sheet metal surrounding it. Three wind turbines, stolen relics from the seemingly failed government containment attempts, loomed above the compound, casting shadows on the tops of the trees. Puffs of steam from the outside wall and billows from the center of the compound revealed the primary means of transmitting power throughout the compound. Two sentry towers on top of the wall flanked the main gate facing the dismantled bridge and the shore line. Pendulums and clockwork gears managed household functions within this steampunk haven for failing humanity. It was all very much according to plan.
Unfortunately, the plan also prevented Rose and Walter from approaching by the main gate. A contingent of revenants had set up shop near the shore line, occasionally venturing closer to see if there is a way to cross on foot. No sooner did they come out from beyond the treeline, however, than snipers from the towers cut them down with rifle fire.
"If we just walk up and say hello, they'll shoot us before we can get a word out," Rose said. "And why would they waste the bullets when they know the zombies can't reach them?"
Walter remained silent, thinking about the tortured souls still trapped in the revenant bodies, gunned down without hope of redemption. "Sport," he said.
"There's left over equipment and debris all along the lake shore," Rose continued, "we might be able to find something that could float us over there along one of the far sides."
"Right," Walter said, still looking at the dead revenants, "lets do it."

As twilight settled in, Rose and Walter pulled the make-shift raft onto the island next to the compound's outer wall. This side wasn't watched, and there were plenty of gaps in the wall big enough to fit through.
"They're really not expecting trouble along this side, I guess," Walter said. On the inside of the wall, they found themselves in something of an alleyway, lined with boards and sheet metal on one side and sturdier walls covered in pipes and wiring on the other.
"I guess they keep this easily accessible for maintenance," Rose said. "So there's probably a way to the main courtyard from here. Let's find Reed quickly. They need to know that these new zombies could walk right into the compound!"
They wandered the service alley for a few minutes before finding an access path to a more functional street (or hallway, as indoors and out somewhat blurred together here). After more walking through the back way, they finally saw a long, narrow stretch leading to a more open area. The could see two semi trucks, complete with trailers attached, that were hooked up to the walls with a variety of wires and tubes. The streets were full of vendor carts, and more importantly, with people! Walking, talking, laughing, living human beings, their friends. They began to walk more quickly when Walter realized he recognized one of the people going about her business in the courtyard. He would have recognized her anywhere.
"Daisy?" Walter said in a halting voice. He began to jog forward, away from Rose. He called out to his wife in a firmer voice.
"Dai...!" Walter was cut off as a bag fell over his head and he was struck unconscious.

Walter came to with the bag still on his head. He began to struggle.
"Good you're awake," A vaguely familiar voice said. "You sleep heavier than anyone I've ever seen. Anyway, I'll get to the point: would you care to explain yourself?"
"I'd care to stop having things and people hit me in the head!" Walter said.
"What did you expect, snooping around?" the voice said. "We keep sentries in those alleys in case some other band of people decide they want to take our stuff. Now what made you think spreading mass panic was a good idea?"
"We don't know what you're talking about," Rose said. "Who are you, where's Reed?"
"Leon, get the hoods," the voice said. Their hoods came off. "It's Jason. Reed isn't the supreme dictator around here anymore, we've found democracy. And you were wandering around the alley talking about zombies in the camp, the sentry overheard you. Do you have any idea what spouting that nonsense in the camp would do?!?"
"We didn't say they were in the camp," Rose said.
"But they can get in," Walter added. "The plan has a flaw, something we didn't know about."
"The plan is fine," Jason said, "and if you shout 'fire' in a theater, or maybe 'the end is extremely [bleeping] nigh,' saying 'that's not what I meant' doesn't get you off the hook."
"Jason, why are our hands tied?" Walter asked, because they were.
"I'm figuring out if you're a danger to the camp," Jason said, "and you'll stay tied until I know it's safe. If you start yelling, Leon and I will gag you, too." Walter and Rose turned to see Leon Romero, who was standing silently behind them.
"We won't yell," Walter said. "But you have to listen to us. You have to take us to Reed."
"There's a new kind of zombie coming," Rose said. "They're fast. And they can swim. They can get into the camp and they were right behind us, they could be here any day."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason said.
"You have to believe us," Walter said. "And we need to talk to Joan. Where's the backpack?"
"I have your stuff here; you've seen these yourselves?" Leon asked behind them.
"Leon? I'm handling this," Jason said. "Look, guys, I want to be reasonable, but you sound like you were out in the cold a bit too long. I'll have Leon take you to an apartment were you can sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning I'll meet with Reed and we'll get this all sorted out."
"Tomorrow??" Walter said, "what about my wife!"
"Walter, if you raise your voice again,..." Jason said sternly. "Leon, take them to one of the empty apartments. Use the alley so no one sees them."


"Leon, you have to believe us," Rose said as Leon led them down the alleyway. "They can get in."
"I believe you," Leon said, "but you have to admit it sounds crazy."
"There's more," Walter said. "There's a cure."
"What?"
"For the revenants," Walter said. "There's a cure."
"Jason's right, you really are crazy," Leon said.
"Leon, I was one," Walter said. "I'm cured." Leon scoffed.
"It's true," Rose said.
"Look at me, Leon. You're a cop, look at the clues," Walter said. He held up his hands, pulled his shirt from his shoulder, showing all the bite marks which had faded to little more than ancient scars. "The reason they only die with a head shot is that they can heal. Rose broke my ribs a few days ago."
Leon looked at Rose incredulously. She nodded. Leon felt Walter's ribs, locating where Rose had struck him with the club.
"This must have happened months ago," Leon said.
"Leon, a week ago I was a revenant, just like those people wandering the shore this evening," Walter said. "If you look inside the backpack, you'll find a medkit with four shots of the cure. We have to get it to Joan, and you have to get shotguns along the lakeside."
"We don't have anywhere close to enough shotguns. Plenty of rifles, though."
"Then," Rose said, "You have to let the zombies in."
"She's right," Walter said. "If the ghouls come, you have to get everyone upstairs and let revenants onto the island."
"Let the what onto the island?" Leon said. "Because I know you're not using a fancy word for 'let zombies into the zombie-proof fortress.' "
"Leon, they can kill the ghouls. Without lots of shotgun ammo, we can't."
"It can't be that hopeless," Leon said.
Up ahead, they noticed someone standing ominously, facing toward them.
"Your sentry?" Rose asked, knowing the answer.
"I don't recognize him," Leon said. He quickly untied the ropes binding his prisoners and drew his gun. "You! Who are you?!?"Someone else climbed through outside wall. This second intruder turned to face them, too, then let loose a terrible shriek.

They ran. The ghouls poured in. Leon shouted something. An alarm sounded through the compound. The backup generators were started and left running. Gunshots. Children were herded into protected upstairs rooms. Ghouls pounced and attacked, rending flesh from bone. Bullets pierced them without effect. Panic. Fear.
"Leon, the only thing that can stop them now is the revenants!" Walter shouted.
"It's too late!" Leon responded. "We've got to get to higher ground. Run!"
Leon and Walter ran. Rose paused, turned and looked at the 'generators.' Semi tractors with trailers still attached. Probably over 40 feet long. Pointed at the main gate. The gate leading to a 50 foot rift between revenants and ghouls.
Rose ran toward one of the trucks. She climbed into the cab and pulled the gear shifter. Nothing happened. She jammed on the clutch, shifting into gear, and stomped with all her might on the gas pedal. Wire and hose ripped from the walls beside her as the truck lurched forward, then began to pick up momentum. Rose stayed on the gas. Her name, shouted by parties unknown, echoed off the compound walls. Rose stayed on the gas.
The truck had begun to pick up a bit of speed, smashing kiosks and ghouls beneath it. It approached the sealed gate. Rose stayed on the gas. The gate, never planned to resist inside forces trying to get out, burst out and collapsed beneath the heavy truck. Faster now, the truck sped toward the water. Faster. Rose stayed on the gas.
The truck skipped in the air for a moment before coming down in the water. It lost momentum fast. the engine flooded and died. But the truck made it nearly the entire way through 10 foot deep water. Water poured into the cab, and Rose climbed out on top of the truck, now only a few feet from dry land. Rose looked back behind the truck, then climbed onto the trailer behind the cab just as the outstretched arm of a revenant, already climbing the cab, missed grabbing her feet. The revenants were behind her surprisingly quickly for creatures that move so slowly.
Rose ran toward the back of the truck as she felt a bullet whiz past her head. The snipers in the towers were shooting at the revenants, and her with them!
"Stop!" Rose screamed as loud as she could. "Tell them to stop!" Reaching the back of the truck, she leaped to the shore. Just as she tried to re-balance herself for the run to the compound, a bullet struck her in the heal.
"AAAAARRRRGGHH!"
Rose stumbled forward. The revenants behind her were now gaining as the ghouls in the compound approached. Rose reached the gate, but could never make it to any of the stairs. There were no survivors left on the ground. She paused, staring at the ghouls that were almost upon her, then turned around to face the revenants behind her.
"There are worse things than dying," Rose said to herself. She closed her eyes, full of stressful tears, and held her hands up as if to receive a gift.
If her eyes had been open, she may have been blinded by the rope ladder that suddenly struck her in the face.
"Grab on!" Leon shouted from a window two floors above. Rose did, and Leon, Walter, and Reed Wright pulled her up out of the reach of the zombie armies crashing into each other below.

For three days they guarded and reinforced the stairway doors. Food and water began to run very short. Every survivor felt hungry and lethargic. The ghouls were gone, slaughtered at the revenants' feet, but zombies still roamed the island constantly, occasionally trying to get into the more protected parts of the compound. The upstairs areas lacked all the resources necessary for a prolonged defense. A mist spread over the whole lake, followed by a light but strengthening rain.
"I thought I'd come home to some peace," Walter said, holding his wife and child tightly. "I thought I'd be able to take care of you like I should have been doing all along. I'm sorry."
"None of us thought it would end this way," Reed said over the sound of someone coughing. "So much for planning, huh?"
"Well, no," Daisy Newman said. "I mean, we all did what we had to, right? God doesn't promise us everything will be sunshine and frozen custard. And He doesn't tell us we have to win. He just tells us what we have to do."
Leon, drowsy from dehydration, smiled. "That's a Protestant thought I can get behind. Thanks, Daisy. But please don't talk about food."
They chuckled. People were coughing all around them.
Daisy began to hum a tune, and they all joined in, singing themselves to sleep.
"God only knows, God makes his plan / The information's unavailable to the mortal man / We're workin' our jobs, collect our pay / Believe we're gliding down the highway, when in fact we're slip sliding away."


The morning sunlight poured into the room. The survivors woke to a distant humming sound and the not-so-distant sound of voices below them. Not grunts or moans, but human voices.
"What? Do you guys hear that?" Leon asked.
"Are there more survivors down there?" Walter said.
They heard the disconcerting sound of someone vomiting directly below them.
"Are you OK?" A voice asked.
"Man, I don't feel so hot either," said another, followed by more vomiting.
"What happened?" A third voice said.
The survivors scrambled to a nearby window and looked out. The grounds were filled with people. Ill as they seemed, there were no zombies in sight.
"Hello?" Reed shouted down to them.
"Hello up there! Can you help us?" Someone shouted back.
"Reed? Is my family with you? Are they safe?"
"Dad?!!" Rose shouted giddily. The survivors unblocked the door and ran down to greet the recovering zombies (except for Rose, who limped quickly). The humming had gotten much louder, like an airplane engine.
"What is that sound?"
Overhead, an airship floated by just above the wind turbines. It settled above the island between the gate and the water, lowering a small carriage with half a dozen people in it. Two men in suits stepped out onto the island first, with four workers proudly wearing the letters CDC following. The lead man was lean, gray haired, and wearing sunglasses.
"I'm looking for the... mayor, or whoever is in charge around here," the man said.
"Reed, I think that's you," Walter said. Reed stepped forward.
"I'm Reed Wright."
"Detective John Munch, NYPD," Detective Munch said. "Or I was, back when there was a functioning PD."
"Kind of a long way from New York," Reed said.
"Yeah, they're sending us into newly disinfected areas," Detective Munch said. "Rebuilding a society takes good leaders, and they're going to need as much help as they can get."
"Who exactly are 'they'?" Leon asked.
" 'They' are the new government," Detective Munch said. "DC was pretty much wiped off the map. They were one of the first urban areas hit by the "ghouls" or whatever they were." Munch supplied the air quotes. "Reed here is pretty much the future of the US goverment."
"How did you know they're called ghouls?" Walter asked. "And how did you know we were disinfected?"
"You want the party line version, or the real story?" Detective Munch asked. "Officially their brilliant scientists just discovered the cure and they deployed it immediately. Unofficially..."
"Unofficially, they've been targeting areas where the ghouls seem to have been killed off," Walter said.
"Reed, your friend here catches on quick," Detective Munch said. "Sounds like you had people you could count on."
"We'd have never made it alone," Reed said. Rose and Mr. Redding walked up, standing side by side with Walter & Daisy, Reed & Liv, Leon, Jason, and all the others.
"Hi," Rose said, "does your zeppelin have Guinness?"


IT'S OVER!

Leviticus 26:29

Ten minutes after Walter Newman died, his eyes opened.
I'm hungry, Walter thought. Where's the never-ending pasta bowl when you need it?
Walter looked around in a haze. He was on his back, on the ground, in the yard of some kind of fortress or castle. He saw other people around, vaguely, but he was certain that wasn't important at the moment. He started to get up, trying to remember where he was or what he had been doing on the ground.
Walter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling fresh scar tissue. For a moment, Walter felt a flash of reality. No. He had fallen. He had felt his neck crack, the bones of his shoulder breaking through his skin. No. Walter looked around frantically, seeing the dead walking all around him, slowly, almost hovering, buzzards looking for a meal. NO!
"UUGGHH!" Walter moaned mournfully, closing his eyes tightly as he fought back the disturbing images in his mind.
Walter looked again. They were just people, people he didn't know. The walked away, saying nothing to him. He looked up at the white tufts of cotton in the sky above him. A midget riding a chicken passed overhead. Walter knew it was somehow absurd, but he didn't question it. Chicken. Walter was very hungry.

"Breakfast is on, Rose."
Rose Redding jolted awake, dropping the copy of Pride and Prejudice from her lap. She was seated in a soft maroon chair in the Cooper family's farmhouse. Her arms were wrapped around a crowbar. Ever since that first night in the house, she slept fitfully unless she had something to defend herself with.
"A rough night, dear?" Mrs. Cooper asked.
"No more than usual," Rose said. Together they walked into the kitchen where the rest of the Cooper family waited at the table.
"Rose, sleep all right after your watch?" Nat Cooper said.
"Just fine, Mister Cooper," Rose said. "What's for breakfast?" The family chuckled.
"Same thing as always, eggs and taters," the younger son said. "Why are we always havin' eggs and taters, eggs and taters. I don't want any eggs and taters, I want cereal!"
"Pipe down, Daniel," Nat Cooper said. "We're in a tough way, and your mother's doing everything she can. And don't think being in a tough way'll keep me from tannin' your hide."
Rose was almost too intent on her meal to notice. She hadn't eaten much for the last week. The sight of the new zombies had left her without much appetite. She quickly devoured her egg and polished off her potato.
"May I have another egg?" Rose asked. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper looked at her silently for a moment. Rose blushed slightly as she tried to explain herself. "I know we don't have a lot of food to spare, but I really think I need the protein, and they're more replenishable than our potatoes at the moment."
Mr. Cooper's glance fell to his children's plates, then returned to meet Rose's gaze. "OK, Rose. Mother, will you put another egg on the fire?"
Mrs. Cooper stood from the table slowly. "Yes, dear."

Walter walked through a desert, the sun beating down and burning his skin. I have to get back to my family, Walter thought. He knew that was why he had been walking for so long. Where he had just been, Walter wasn't quite sure. How long have I been walking?
Too long, came the voice. Walter looked up. The sky had gone dark, and a frowning Cheshire cat looked down on him from the sky. You need to get past the forest, the cat seemed to say.
Walter looked around at the trees. He did seem to be in a forest. The canopy blocked out the sky. Was I in the desert earlier? Walter thought. He felt his stomach growl. And who are all these people wandering around? Can they help me? Walter knew intuitively if he called out to them, none would answer him. Not until he found his wife. But before he could do that, he definitely needed to find something to eat.
Walter entered a break in the trees, and looked up for the cat. It was there, but lower in the sky. Its frown was thinner, almost impossible to see. Maybe the cat is hungry too, Walter thought.
There's always food in the Quick-E Mart, the cat seemed to say. Walter looked around. There, standing in a field next to a cow house (What are those called? He thought.) was a brightly lit Quick-E Mart, open for business. All the other wandering people were going toward it. Thunder rolled, a sure sign of a coming storm. Some of the wanderers fell down before they could get to the store. Walter walked toward it, feeling sluggish.

"They're coming around the side!" Rose shouted. She raised her rifle and fired. The slower zombies were easy targets, even in the black of night, and fell immediately at a headshot. The others, though...
"They're too close, Nat!" Mrs. Cooper shouted downstairs toward her husband.
Thunder roared from below as Nat Cooper fired the shotgun from between the boarded windows. "They're too damn fast, I don't want to waste ammunition! David, watch that window, he's coming around!"
David raised the heavy hunting rifle toward the window, but struggled to keep the barrel up.
From above, Rose fired her rifle twice more. "That's the last of the slow ones! How many left?"
"Three, I think," Nat Cooper shouted. A piercing shriek from outside preceded a fast body springing from the darkness and shattering a board on the window Mr. Cooper was guarding. Arms covered in splinters and rivulets of blood reached into the house.
Thunder, cocking, and more thunder. "Two left," Nat Cooper said.
"I think one's come around this side, Poppa," David said.
Rose and Mrs. Cooper came downstairs with their rifles, ready to help guard the windows from the nearby intruders. In the center of the house, young Daniel sat with his knees to his chest, crying softly.
David hefted his gun to the window again, resting it on one of the guardian boards.
"David, don't leave that there!" Rose shouted, moving to help him.
Too late. A hand grabbed the barrel from outside and yanked, pulling the boy toward the window. Two bodies smashed the boards on the window and grabbed David. "MOOOMMAAA!!"
The whole family ran to him. Rose struck the zombies with her crowbar. Mrs. Cooper screamed, swinging a shovel with strength only adrenaline and maternity can create, beating the zombies off her son. Mr. Cooper fired four shots from the shotgun, obliterating the zombies.
"David! David, are you all right?" Mrs. Cooper asked frantically. She stumbled, and Mr. Cooper dropped the shotgun on the floor to catch her.
David stumbled backward, turned, and vomitted. He looked up at his mother with blank, bloodshot eyes. An inhuman shriek sprang from David's body.
"David?" Mrs. Cooper said, eyes full of tears as he lunged at her.
"NO!" Rose shouted as she struck the creature that had been David Cooper with the crowbar. The creature came again, and Rose struck again, and again. The creature fell back, then turned toward Daniel, still on the floor crying.
Rose moved quickly. She scooped the shotgun from the floor, spun to the monster, and fired the last round. What remained fell to the ground.
"NO!" Mrs. Cooper screamed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?!"
Rose was in shock. "He... it wasn't your son anymore."

Walter was still hungry. He had eaten on the 3-foot hero sandwich lying next to the bag of oats on the Quick-E Mart floor. The wanderers seemed inexplicably intent on that bag...
Another flash. People, expressionless, bent over a human body. Blood on their faces. Walter's sandwich, somehow attached to the body.
"UUGGHH!" Walter clenched his eyes, then opened them. Whatever it was had passed. He really needed to talk to someone. And find more food. Still hungry.
Walter saw new people moving amid the wanderers. Who are they? He wondered. But they weren't people: they were like life-sized marionettes, moved by strings that floated up into the air. They moved like animals, fast. They would be in one place one moment, and in the blink of an eye much closer. Walter didn't like them. Neither did any of the wanderers. Walter needed to cut those strings. Yes. The marionettes were too creepy, they needed to put cut and put away.
In an instant one was upon him. No, a 10-foot snake was upon him! He moved as it struck, barely missing. The snake struck again. Walter felt fangs enter his right hand. Blood flowed out of him as venom flowed in. Walter pulled the snake, still embedded in his hand, towards himself. If that's the game, Walter thought, two can play. Walter bit the snake, sinking his teeth into it. Its body whipped about violently, then went limp and fell to the ground, releasing him. Walter looked at it again. A marionette, but no strings. All around him, wanderers stood next to limp marionettes. Walter felt jubilant, wanting to celebrate. The wanderers didn't look like they wanted to have a party. As he walked off, Walter wished his wife were there to congratulate him.

They buried David the next day. There was little time for mourning, though, because of the repairs needed to keep the house protected. The zombies had smashed a number of boards, and had gotten the last of the chickens. Rose worked hard hammering boards over the windows, hauling firewood into the house, cleaning the guns. Twilight approached quickly, and the day's work was showing on her.
"If you keep this up, you won't be able to stand tonight, much less fight," Nat Cooper said as Rose nailed the last board to one of the windows.
"I'm just doing what I have to," Rose said. "I can't let it happen again."
"You don't owe us anything, you know," Nat Cooper said. "We fed you, you fought for us. We've been square all along."
"You guys took me in," Rose said. "You've been like a family to me since I got here."
"Get in hear, dear," Mrs. Cooper said. "Sun's going down, we've barely time to eat before they come."
Nat Cooper walked into the house. Rose hammered the last nail and then followed him to the door. Nat paused, then turned in the doorway. The shotgun was in his right hand.
"We're not your family," He said. "And with the chickens gone, we can't afford another mouth to feed that ain't flesh and blood."
"What?" Rose said, shocked. "You can't mean that."
"Plus, after last night," He said, "I reckon Mrs. Cooper couldn't bear to have you under our roof again. Now here's something to keep your strength up." Cautiously, he handed her a small hand towel with a boiled potato wrapped inside. He then placed both hands on the gun. "If I was you, I'd head south."
"Mister Cooper..." Rose said, fighting back tears, "Nat..."
"We needed you to fix our house today. You needed us to give you food for the road. So it's like I said, we've been square all along."
Rose stumbled back, turned to leave, then looked back at Nat angrily. "My shotgun?"
"If you try to come back," Nat Cooper said, "You'll get done to you what David got done to him."
Rose walked away from the farmhouse, slowly and wearily. As the sun set, there was rustling in the woods to the north.

I wonder how long I've been wearing this backpack, Walter thought. He knew it didn't have any food in it, or he would have eaten it already. He had followed the wanderers, which led him to a clearing with what looked like a little family restaurant on a peninsula surrounded by a small pond. The water looked harsh and forbidding. Probably poisoned, Walter thought, best avoid it. If he could find money in the backpack, maybe he could get a friendly server at the restaurant who would sit with him a while.
He saw a deer running lightly away from the restaurant. Maybe I should go hunting instead, Walter thought. He felt he could eat the whole thing. It was a doe. Doe, a deer, a female deer. Walter looked up at the Cheshire cat. It was grinning widely, evidently recognizing the song Walter was trying to remember.
Between him and the deer, Walter saw a dozen of the marionettes chasing it. They were going to get to his dinner first. He had to beat them to it. To beat them. Walter hated the marionettes. Maybe there was something he could use against them in the backpack. How long had he been wearing this backpack?

The fast zombies caught up with Rose among the trees. She had run for the area with all the good firewood. She picked up a strong, slender branch from the ground and struck the first zombie in the head. She began beating them off, but she clearly wouldn't be able to do it for long.
The slow zombies began to reach them. But instead of attacking Rose, they grasped at the faster ghouls. They began to struggle, wrestling with each other violently. The ghouls bit into the slow zombies repeatedly, but in vain. When one of the slow zombies returned the favor, the ghoul screamed and went into convulsions before falling to the ground, limp. Rose tried to move away from the struggle, but was block from behind by a couple of slower zombies. She struck the first to the ground, then struck it in the head with her make-shift club. She didn't linger to see if it was dead or just dazed. The second was wearing some kind of military looking backpack. Rose looked at its face more directly, struggling to make out its features in the failing light.
"Oh my-..." Rose gasped in fear and horror, "Walter?"
Walter Newman stared at Rose blankly.
"UUGGHH!"

Of Apophenia and Augury, Part II

"The Chief is... currently missing," Leon said.
"So sad," Captain Zwingli said. "Sounds like you're on your own. Doctor West, anything we should explain to local officials?"
"Nothing we can tell them without bring up more questions than answers," Dr. West said. "No reason to cause confusion."
"I gave up my weapon, I at least need to know what you're doing to keep these citizens safe!" Leon said.
"Do you see all these soldiers?" Captain Zwingli asked. "They'll contain things, as ordered."
"And what are we containing?"
"Them." Dr. West pointed into the tent, where half a dozen zombies lie strapped down, struggling clumsily against their restraints. "We don't want anyone to get injured unnecessarily, and we certainly don't want a panic."
"You have them inside the camp?!?" Leon said.
"Why don't you say it a little louder?" Captain Zwingli said. "They need to be here so we can monitor how quickly they spread. Now why don't you go direct some traffic and leave the heavy lifting to the professionals."

Amid the crowd, Liv saw the injured woman and one of the men from their transport stumbling against the fence nearby.
"This woman's hurt! Is there a doctor nearby?" Liv yelled above the din of frightened people. "Reed? Get one of the doctors!"
Reed looked up and saw the two passengers. The woman straightened up slowly, looked into the man's vacant eyes, then turned. Both began walking toward Liv and the children.

"And if one of these 'patients' breaks loose? It's pretty crowded over there, you know," Leon said.
"The soldiers have orders to fire on anyone exhibiting revenant behavior," Dr. West said. "There are guards all around these tents. There's no scenario in which they could get to the crowd."
"Revenant??" Leon asked. "What the hell is that?"
"That's science talk for zombies," Captain Zwingli said. "You did get that that's what we're up against, right? The walking dead, like in one o' them movies."
"Not precisely," Dr. West said.
"Look I don't care what they are right now," Leon said, not quite convincingly. "Are you sure you can contain them? There are worse things for these people than just dying, right now."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Doctor West said. "More true than you know, really."
"Anyway, if we actually have to euthanize them, one head shot from the live ammo in those trucks," Captain Zwingli gestured to two trucks between a humvee and the energy equipment truck," right over there does them nicely."

The pair stumbling toward the crowd stared blankly at Liv.
"Are you alright?" Liv asked.
"Liv, get the kids away from them," Reed said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the revolver he had concealed and loaded several rounds into it.
The third injured man, the one who had spoken earlier, ran out from the crowd toward the woman. "Nancy," he said, "did the doctors see you??"

"The live ammo's in storage? What are all the soldiers using??" Leon asked.
"Riot control," Captain Zwingli said, "as per our orders."
"You're using rubber bullets?!? That bleeping airman was serious?!?!?!" Leon ran toward the crowd of refugees.

Nancy grabbed the man's arm, throwing him against fence and biting him. The other man moved toward the crowd and moaned.
"Hey! There's a fight over here! Break it up!" A dozen civilians descended on the couple against the fence. Amid the crowd, the second man tried to grab Liv.
"Liv!" Reed raised his pistol and rushed forward.
"Look out! That guy's got a gun!"
"...Get off of him, lady, break it up!..."
"...GYAAAHHHH! he bit me!..."
"...Dizzy... UUNNGHH..."
Reed reached his family and shot the zombie in the chest. Screams from the crowd. The zombie stumbled back and fell, but just as quickly began to get up.
"Reed!" Leon shouted as he ran up. "The head!"
Liv wrapped her arms around her children's faces, turning them away from the gore.
Reed fired once. The zombie fell dead.
Screams and moans billowed from the crowd by the fence. As soldiers moved in, the crowd began to spread out, all eyes vacant. The soldiers began firing on the crowd, but the zombies merely stumbled back.
"Leon!" Kurt shouted as he tossed Leon his pistol. Kurt had apparently never stored it as ordered.
"We've got to get out of here," Leon said to Kurt and Reed. "Something is not right about this!"
"Agreed. Airman Russell, do they leave the keys in those trucks?" Reed asked, pointing at the energy equipment trucks.
"Yes," Kurt said. "You lead, we follow."
"We need to help some of these people!" Liv said.
"Get your kids on the truck," Leon said. "We'll round up whoever we can."
Bullets and screams were flying freely. Leon and Reed managed to move a couple dozen people toward a Humvee and a nearly empty weapon truck as the soldiers distributed the guns. Kurt and a few more piled into one of the equipment trucks. They drove straight through the now unmanned gate as the sun started to rise.

The three vehicles kept driving through the deserted suburbs. Up ahead, they saw a group of roughly a dozen refugees walking along the road.
"Reed, I think that's the Reddings!" Liv said. Reed slowed the truck as they approached and leaned out the window.
"Mr. Redding, were you in one of the camps?" Reed said.
"No," Mr. Redding said. "Rose got us out of the house and moving before the soldiers came through."
"They managed to find Walter and us in time," Daisy Newman said, holding her daughter. "Walter, it's Reed Wright! Is your family OK?"
"We're all here, thanks. About thirty of us managed to escape," Reed said. "It was bad."
"Where are you headed from here?" Rose asked.
"We're sort of playing by ear right now," Reed said. "They seem to be following my lead, but I have no idea where to take these people."
Walter Newman walked up beside Daisy. "Sounds like you're going to need us as much as we'll need you, Reed. We have a plan."

Of Apophenia and Augury, Part I

The family was herded into the back of a military transport truck with a few of their neighbors. Gun shots continued to sound in the warm night. The truck pulled away from the houses and drove to the highway nearby, where it met up with two other transports. The truck stopped and idled as the driver got out and met with the drivers of the other two.
"What's the hold up?" One driver asked.
"We're headed back toward downtown," another said. "Listen, we picked up a bleeping cop who wants to talk to 'somebody in charge.' Either of you headed back in?"
"I'm almost full," The first driver said. "Have him and any casualties hop on the back of mine, I'll go ahead and go in. This bleeping operation's gonna take all bleeping night." And no, the soldiers didn't say bleeping.
The drivers went back to their respective trucks. The Wright family (Reed, Liv, Wayne, and Eileen), still clad in their pajamas, children fighting back tears of fear, sat in the back of the truck with neighbors they barely knew and the soldiers who had rescued them from their own home. The gate at the back of the truck was lowered as a Hispanic man in a wrinkled city police uniform climbed into the truck with them, followed by three injured civilians.
"Thanks," the policeman said. "You three OK?"
"The two of us are OK, I think," said one of the men, "but she seems pretty bad, got a big gash in her arm. Let's hope we can get her to a doctor quick."
"Will someone please tell us what's going on?" Another passenger said. "These soldiers just broke into our house and told us to come with them!"
"I haven't been able to get any straight answers," The officer said.

When everyone was situated, the truck began moving again. The officer tried to start a conversation with the soldiers.
"I don't suppose you guys care to say what's going on either?" The officer asked. "Like why people are being attacked, or how you were ready to respond so quickly?"
"We're not FEMA," a soldier with a pistol said.
The officer laughed. "Thank you! That's the first answer I've gotten that wasn't some 'not authorized to discuss it' BS." The officer did say 'BS,' censoring his own speech after noticing the Wright family's children listening. "Sgt. Leon Romero," he said.
"Airman Russell," the soldier with the pistol said.
"Yeah, let's just get cozy," the other soldier said contemptuously. "Nice to meet you, the name's royal chief master sergeant bleeping awesome. We don't care who you are!"
"Hey!" Leon said. "There are kids listening, Junior Birdman." The soldier started to stand, but Airman Russell slapped a hand across the other soldier's chest, pushing him back down. Reed glanced at Russell's insignia, noticing that he was of higher rank than the other airman.
"Airman Russell?" Liv said. "I just want to thank you for protecting my husband earlier."
"Yeah, two to the head!" The airman basic said. "He's gonna get an earful for that bit of genius later."
"I noticed that was the only one you actually stopped," Reed said. "How come your rifle barely held them off?"
The airman basic frowned. "Rubber bullets," he said. Liv scoffed, clearly unconvinced. Russell remained silent, but seemed uncomfortable with the conversation.
"You don't say much, do you Airman Russell?" Leon asked.
"Nope," Russell responded.
Leon smiled. "You got a first name, Airman?"
"Kurt," Airman Kurt Russell responded. "No relation."
"Really?" Reed said. "Cause now that you say it, you look just like the actor."
"So I hear," Kurt said.
"How about you, friend?" Leon said.
"My name's Reed, this is my wife Liv, and my children Wayne and Eileen."
"Nice to meet you," Leon said.

The truck came to a stop for a moment, then pulled forward slowly. The passengers saw a make-shift checkpoint box and a high, chain-link fence pass behind them. The truck came to a stop and everyone exited the truck, the two airmen going first. An Air Force officer approached Leon.
"Sergeant, I'll be escorting you to speak to the Captain," the Lieutenant said. "But first I'll need you to relinquish your weapon."
"Excuse me?" Leon said incredulously. "You want my sidearm?"
"Yes sir, I have to insist," The Lieutenant said. "Senior Airman, please take the Sergeant's weapon." Kurt stepped forward and held out his hand to Leon.
Leon looked around. They were clearly in a military operated camp, probably set up exclusively to process civilians before taking them to a more permanent location. There was nothing to gain from making a scene. Leon handed over his gun.
"Armory tent," the Lieutenant said. Kurt marched off.
Leon turned to Reed. "Look after them. I'll catch up with you if I find out anything worth passing on." Leon and the Lieutenant walked toward a cluster of tents.
"This way," the airman basic said to Reed. The Wright family was led to a crowd of civilians, mostly also in their pajamas.

The Lieutenant delivered Leon to his superior officer presently. The Captain, who was standing next to a tent with several medical professional types wandering about, did not take notice of them. He seemed entirely engrossed directing transport trucks to their staging areas.
"Captain Zwingli? This is the police officer who wanted to see you," the Lieutenant said.
"Get that equipment in position for setup in the morning!" Captain Zwingli said. The truck parked next to several others directly opposite the main gate. Captain Zwingli then turned to Leon and the Lieutenant. "The Air Force says these camps need to be able to run on autonomous power, which would be fine by me; but since the whole bleeping world has gone green, they give us solar panels and some kind of bleeping windmills rather than gas generators. Bleeping nonsense, I say!"
"Great," Leon said. "What's going on?"
"That will be all, Lieutenant," Captain Zwingli said. "Now who are you?"
"I'm a Sergeant out of the sixth precinct, badge number 1013-..."
"I'm not impressed," Captain Zwingli said flatly. "Where's your Chief of Police?"
"The Chief is... currently missing," Leon said.
"So sad," Captain Zwingli said. "Sounds like you're on your own. Doctor West, anything we should explain to local officials?"
"Nothing we can tell them without bring up more questions than answers," Dr. West said. "No reason to cause confusion."
"I gave up my weapon, I at least need to know what you're doing to keep these citizens safe!" Leon said.
"Do you see all these soldiers?" Captain Zwingli asked. "They'll contain things, as ordered."
"And what are we containing?"
"Them." Dr. West pointed into the tent, where half a dozen zombies lie strapped down, struggling clumsily against their restraints.

Blurring and Stirring, Part II

(WARNING: The content below may contain images and references disturbing to some readers. This isn't your grandma's zombie story. It's more like your vertically gifted, aesthetically challenged friend's zombie story.)


"That's enough melodrama," Dr. West said. "You should really eat. You look famished." Dr. West gave Walter a piece of bread. "Jamie, there's that hawk you heard earlier."
They looked outside. The hawk perched atop the eastern fence. From the woods to the north, two pigeons caught sight of the bird of prey and flew directly toward it.
"What are they doing?" Walter asked.
"You don't want to know."
The pigeons attacked the hawk savagely. They all fell to the ground, and the pigeons began to peck the great bird's eyes out.
"That's gastly!" Walter said. He felt sick.
"Yes it is," Jamie said. "They're infected."
"Animals can't become zombies," Walter objected. "Joan said..."
"That depends on what you mean by 'zombie,'" Dr. West said. "It's not a very scientific term, you know. You might call the pigeons 'ghouls,' although the ones we're waiting for are a bit more homonid." Dr. West and Jamie both looked stern.
"If they come, when they come, we let the revenants free and get to the chopper," Jamie said.
"Why do you let those monsters free?"
"Because there's no cure for what the ghouls do to you," Dr. West said.
"Wait," Walter said, "there's a cure for what the... the zombies that are everywhere?"
"Sure," Jamie said, gesturing to steel medical kit on the table beside the cheese. "This case has half a dozen injections. Each will restore a revenant to his rightful mind."
"How long have you had this?" Walter asked.
"The whole time, of course," Dr. West said. "You think we'd let a reagent like this spread without some way to control it? Who do you think we are, the Amish?"
"Why hasn't the government cured these people?" Walter was outraged. "Why do you sit here, waiting, while people are dying?"
"Because there are worse things than dying," Dr. West said.
Suddenly, almost silently, flocks of birds to the north of the prison took to the air.
"It's happening," Jamie said. "It's actually happening."
People began running out of the woods. They can't be zombies, Walter thought. But he knew there was something wrong. They were gruesome, far more so than any of the zombies he had seen. Some without arms, mutilated, still bleeding. Dr. West flipped several switches on the control board. A buzzing sound signaled that all cells in the prison were being opened.
Zombies poured out of the cells. More people came out of the woods. They ran to the gates and lept, some clearing the fence, others shredded by the razor wire. All kept coming, regardless. West and Jamie began to run.
Walter glanced at the sturdy medkit still sitting on the table.
"Newman!" Jamie shouted.
"This is your one chance, come on!" Dr. West said.
Walter ran with them, medkit safely stored in his backpack.

Rose was froze. At least, that was the literary allusion best suited to her current state. She walked slowly, shivering despite her heavy coat. She was laden with supplies and the heavy shotgun.
"What I wouldn't give for some cheese and a good book," She said to herself. "I'm so loopy I'm talking to myself. Shouldn't have had that Guinness earlier." She was right, of course. Although alcohol can make anyone feel warm, it is decidedly a poor decision to consume any liquor before marching in the cold for the fourth straight day.
As she came through some trees into a clearing, she saw a farmhouse ahead. The house seemed to sit in the middle of a pond, although on closer inspection it actually sat on a strip of land surrounded on three sides. There was smoke rising from the chimney, and torch lights inside.
Gunshots rang out in the night. As Rose got closer, adrenaline began to pump into her veins. The house was under attack.
Several zombies approached the house along the narrow strip of land. A few more began to approach along the waterfront, but became confused and wandered off. As Rose watched, one was shot from inside the house, once to the head. Rose ran up to help. Hefting the shotgun, she killed two more before pounding on the front door.
"H-help me! Let me in!" She cried.
Shuffling sounds. The door opened.
"Get in, quick!"

The three ran past lumbering zombies as the new attackers smashed in the windows and the doors, charging in viciously. They attacked the zombies in the halls, slashing at their throats, wrestling them to the ground. One of the prisoner zombies grabbed one of the new zombies and threw it across the hall. Walter hadn't realized how strong the zombies were.
They stopped at a doorway, zombies of all types behind them. "OK," Dr. West said, "we've got to cross the yard to get to the helicopter. Don't stop running, no matter what happens, right Jamie?"
"I sure as hell ain't stopping," she said. "Keep up or I'm leaving you both."
The opened the door, and raced each other into hell. Blood was everywhere. Moaning, Shrieking, Biting, Slashing zombies everywhere. They were tearing each other apart. A ghoul saw them and abandoned its previous prey, charging them. Three more followed. Jamie fired blindly, but one reached her before she could stop it.
"No!" Dr. West shrieked. "She's our only way out of here!"
Walter struck the zombie on top of her in the head with his shovel, severing the top of the skull. It staggered back, but then turned toward him. He picked up Jamie's gun, but another zombie, slower and cleaner, stepped between him and his attacker.
"Jamie?" Walter asked. "Are you OK? Can you stand?"
Jamie rolled onto her stomach and vomited. She then looked up at Walter with bloodshot eyes and screamed. She charged him, arms extended. Without thinking, Walter shot, one to the head. Jamie reeled, but then turned and stared at him, the bullet clearly still lodged in her skull.
"She's gone, you fool! Run!" Dr. West yelled.
They ran back the way they came.

"What," Walter said as they caught their breath, "is going on, West!"
"There's some kind of parasite controlling them," Dr. West said. "That's all we can figure. As long as the nervous system is in tact, it controls the host's body."
"That's not what I mean," Walter said. "You said you wouldn't 'let a reagent' spread without a cure. Did you cause this? What have you done?!?"
"I did what I had to do," Dr. West said. "I did what I was told to do. I don't decide how my research is used. And I don't know where these ghouls come from. They told us they'd show up in Louisiana first, and we'd get word. That didn't happen."
Walter felt lost, as if he were the last man on earth. "Did you do something to the camp? What happened at the refugee camp?"
"It hardly matters now, doesn't it?" Dr. West said. "Neither of us is getting out of here alive. Not now that they got Jamie."
Down the corridors, they saw dozens of zombies lumbering the hallways. The ghouls did not seem to still be there.
Walter noticed a service ladder behind the door. "If we climb this ladder, can we reach the catwalk a floor up? Can we still get to the chopper?"
"Sure," Dr. West said, suddenly very calm. "Do whatever you have to, Newman." He began to walk resolutely down the hallway toward the zombies.
"What are you doing?!"
"I told you," Dr. West said, "there are worse things than dying." The zombies fell on him, and he began to scream.
Walter climbed. He managed to get onto the catwalk above the yard, with the zombie war still raging below him. He reached the other side and opened the door. A cold hand grasped his throat, its owner releasing a moan as it pushed him backwards. As Walter tried to aim Jamie's gun, the zombie bit him on the wrist, blood flowing out.
"AAAAARRRRGGHH!" Walter shouted. He fired the gun blindly, catching the zombie between the eyes. It fell backwards, dead, but more came from behind it. Walter stumbled back, clutching his arm. He turned to run, only to see another zombie racing across the catwalk toward him. Walter threw himself backwards, lost his balance, and tipped over the railing. He struck the ground with a cracking sound. In that moment, Walter felt pain unlike anything he thought possible. Walter breathed in once. His heart stopped. His eyes glazed, and closed.

"I'm Nat Cooper," the man said to Rose, "and this is my family."
Rose looked at the woman and two young boys. "It's nice to meet you," she said.
"Thank you for your help," Mrs. Cooper said.
"We only get a couple attacking every night," Nat said. "Tonight was worse than usual. Something must've driven them out of the woods. C'mon, let's get you upstairs and get you some food."
With a bowl of soup in hand, Rose looked at her surroundings. The house was well kept. On the second floor, it looked like any pre-Edisonian household might. As feeling returned to her toes, she even looked outside at the beauty of the moonlight.
These people's lifestyle resembled the kind Rose admired. It would have been positively cozy but for the four walking figures in the moonlight, far across the pond. As Rose looked, they weren't walking anymore. They were running. One only had one arm. And when they reached the pond, they dove in and began to swim.

Ten minutes after Walter Newman died, his eyes opened.

Blurring and Stirring, Part I

(WARNING: The content below may contain images and references disturbing to some readers. This isn't your grandma's zombie story. It's more like your vertically gifted, aesthetically challenged friend's zombie story.)


"...-ich is north and east of the metropolitan area along state highway one oh five. The prison gate is watched twenty-four seven. The guards have orders to admit any healthy individuals..."
Walter thought briefly about opening his eyes, but decided to roll over instead.
"They've been broadcasting all morning," Rose said.
Walter sat up and opened his eyes. "Who has?" He asked as he rubbed the back of his head.
"The national guard," Rose said. "It looks like they moved everyone who survived the camps to a prison. The government at its best, huh?"
Walter started to come around. "Where are we?"
"You don't remember, do you?" Rose said. "We got away from the mansion, but the road to the south was blocked by a hundred zombies. We ran the other way and got here last night. I found the radio upstairs, and some canned stuff in the kitchen."
"How far is the prison from here?"
"Why?" Rose said. "We can't go there, we've got to get back."
"How are we going to do that? Ask the zombies to clear the south road?"
"We go around the city," Rose said. "There's plenty of food and matches in the house here."
Walter sighed, noticing that he could see his breath. "Rose, it's really cold out, and it could take two weeks on foot to get around the city if we go far enough out to avoid the zombies. Let's be practical here. How far to the prison?"
Rose was clearly frustrated. "If we left in the next hour, we could probably be there tomorrow night."
"Do we have any guns?"
"There's a shotgun in the bedroom, but I haven't found the shells yet," Rose said.
"So, with one gun between us, we can either go a day and a half and get help from the military, or go ten days or more at the onset of winter, hoping to avoid trouble," Walter said.
"Walter," Rose said, "I don't think the guard is going to help us. You know what happened when they 'rescued' Liv and Reed." Rose supplied the air quotes. "They're the ones spreading this."
"You weren't there," Walter said. "Even Leon doesn't know what happened for sure. You're assuming..."
"I don't trust them," Rose said, "I don't want to tell them where our camp is, and I won't go to them for help."
"I have to get back to my family, Rose," Walter said. "I'm going to the prison, and you should come."
Rose paused. "You aren't my father, or my elder, or my husband. I'm not going there."

The shells had been under the bed. Not that it helped Walter much as he trudged on with a shovel over his shoulder, chafing beside his backpack. Of the two of them, Walter and Rose agreed he wasn't the one who would be needing the gun.

The afterglow from the sunset was just leaving the sky as Walter came in sight of the prison. Unfortunately, only a moment later the zombie huddled next to the tree came in sight of Walter. A solid swing of his shovel sent the zombie reeling, but a glance at the surrounding woods revealed that one man with a shovel would not be enough. Zombies came pouring from the trees: fat zombies, tall zombies, even child zombies. Walter ran.
Walter came to the seemingly abandoned gate. He pushed against it to no effect. He glanced up at the tower through razor wire preventing him from jumping the fence. The zombies closed in around him.
"Open up! Can anyone here me?"
A light came on in the tower. Walter pushed on the gate and it suddenly gave way. Walter ran in and closed the gate behind him. The front doorway into the prison was ajar ahead of him. Walter heard the cry of a bird of prey overhead as he walked inside.
"Hello?" Walter called to the abandoned hallway. He began to march through the prison, slowly becoming aware that he was not actually alone.
As he walked down the hallway of the prison, bars on either side, he could hear the simultaneous moaning and clanking coming from every zombie-filled cell.*
"Hello?" Walter said.
"UUNNGHH!" one zombie shouted as it reached through the bars to grab him. Others began reaching as well. Walter stumbled back.
"Hey! You there! Follow me," A woman yelled at Walter from an open doorway at the end of the hall. Walter did.
"My name's Jamie."
"Nice to meet you," Walter said. "What do you do here?"
"I'm the pilot," Jamie said as they walked through corridors. "When the time comes, I'm your ticket out of here."
"Where is everyone else?" Walter asked.
"Those are questions the doc will be better able to answer," Jamie said. "I just follow orders." After climbing several flights of stairs, they entered the tower.
"This is Dr. West," Jamie said, "he run things here."
"I hope the revenants in the woods didn't give you too much trouble," Dr. West said.
"You mean the zombies?" Walter said.
"Sure."
"Where's the national guard?" Walter asked. "I heard a radio recording saying this was a safe place for survivors."
"It's as safe as anywhere else, I suppose," Dr. West said. "A controlled environment, at least. The soldiers are in the cells, along with most of the survivors."
Walter's face grew grim. He gripped his shovel tighter before noticing the pistol holstered at Jamie's side. "The cells are full of zombies."
"That's true," Dr. West said.
"The national guard is zombies now?" Walter said, failing to contain his distress. "I came here for help getting back to my family."
"Yes, they are," Dr. West said, "but they're in excellent health otherwise. If you're lucky, your family will be revenants before you can reach them." Dr. West did not appear to be joking. "Have some bread and cheese."
"What's wrong with you? Don't you know what you've done to these people?!?" Walter was incensed.
"Mister...."
"Newman."
"Mr. Newman, I know more about what I've done to them than you can imagine," Dr. West said. "It is a far better thing that I have done than you are ever likely to comprehend. And as to what is wrong with us, we're tired, low on manpower, and still waiting."
"Waiting for what? The world to end?" Walter said, more than asked. "If you haven't noticed, it's already come!"
"Mr. Newman," Jamie said, "the worst is yet to come. Things further beyond our control are out out there, waiting, and so we wait as well."
"That's enough melodrama," Dr. West said. "You should really eat. You look famished." Dr. West gave Walter a piece of bread. "Jamie, there's that hawk you heard earlier."
They looked outside. The hawk perched atop the eastern fence. From the woods to the north, two pigeons caught sight of the bird of prey and flew directly toward it.
"What are they doing?" Walter asked.
"You don't want to know."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Numbers 19:11-13

The gunshot and the sound of the front door cracking broke the silence. Everyone in the room, the whole dozen of them, scrambled for their weapons and turned to face the hallway to the foyer. Kent and Paulo bumped into each other near the entrance to the kitchen, jostling the oil lamp on the table next to them.
"Watch the lamps!" Leon shouted as he ran up the hallway to help Kurt. More gunfire.
"They shouldn't be here!" Jason said.
"Can we get out the back way?"
"Some negotiation this turned out to be."
"Enough sarcasm, Walter," Rose said. "Dad, is the back door secure?" More gunfire.
"Yes," Mr. Redding said, "but there's a window broken out back there."
"You mean we won't hear them..."
A zombie grabbed Paulo from behind. Glass shattered in the hallway. More gunfire.
"Get out! Go out the back!" Leon shouted from the hallway.
Rose raised her pistol to the zombie in the room and fired one shot to the head. Pure efficiency. Crunching sounds came from the kitchen as more unwanted guests tried to join the party.
"Tell me again why we had to meet in an abandoned mansion?" Paulo said as he picked himself off the floor.
"[Bleep] off," Jason said. "There's a side door, hurry!" He entered another hallway, beside the fireplace, and turned right, the others following closely. More gunfire, punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.
"What are we even doing here?!"


THE DAY BEFORE
The room is too warm, Walter thought. He knew complaining about too much climate control was ridiculous when few human dwellings had any heat at all anymore. Still, with everyone else just coming in, it would only get warmer.
"You're early, Walter," Mr. Redding said as he and his wife entered the room. Leon, who was just ahead of them, chuckled lightly.
"I'm always early, except for when I'm late, which is usually," Walter said. His wife had encouraged him to leave early for the meeting, and he had listened this time.
"I'll bet Daisy made sure you didn't keep us waiting this time," Joan said.
"Clairvoyant as usual," Walter said. "How's Roger?"
"Cassie's watching my favorite lab rat," Joan said. "She and I are the only ones who've seen him since you and Rose put him in the lab. His ability to heal from surprisingly severe wounds is, let me say, really cool. Too bad he wants to eat us."
"We just can't catch a break," Walter said.
Reed and Liv Wright entered the room, followed by Flora (wife to Paulo, the guy who got zombie-grabbed a few paragraphs back).
"Hello, Walter and Joan, how are you?" Flora said.
"Hi," The said back.
"No greeting for us?" Leon asked with mock indignance.
"Hello," Flora said, smiling.
"Alright, guys, can you sum it up for me?" Reed said. He looked harried and tired, as if from too much leading and not enough sleeping.
"Before we get started," Mr. Redding said, "I'd like to open the meeting with a prayer."
Leon sighed. "You know you're not a priest, right?"
"A lucky thing, since I'm not catholic," Mr. Redding said.
"No, but I am," Leon said. "You know I don't have a problem with the Our Father, but you're not even a minister."
"No, our minister is sick and resting, as you recall. And I was going to use the Valley of Vision," Mr. Redding said.
"Again with puritans?" Leon said.
"You guys really want to do this now?" Reed asked. Leon stared at Reed for a moment before relenting. Mr. Redding prayed.
"Alright, basic business first," Reed said. "Flora?"
"We've got about as many vegetables as we can out of the Field," Flora said. "We could move a few things to the greenhouse and keep them going as long as we have power, but it'll probably frost soon, so everything outside is done."
"How are we doing on saved food?"
"Fine, like I've said, we have enough for three times as many people, as long as the freezers don't give out. Oh, except we're running kinda low on pork."
"That's still great," Liv said. "We can just spread it out a bit more."
"OK, speaking of power, Walter?" Reed said.
"They tell me it's the wind-power that's keeping the physical plant going," Walter said. "These new turbines are pretty much no maintenance unless something breaks, which it hasn't yet. I've been keeping an eye on the gas and ammunition rations. We should probably try to get another tanker, and from the maps I think I've found a truck stop that's a likely candidate relatively close. I haven't detailed that plan yet."
"That's good, Walter, really good," Reed said. "Let us know when you've got a plan."
"Reed?" Leon said. "I need to say here that I'm getting concerned about the number of missions like this we're running. We've still got more gas than people, and it's getting riskier even in the out-of-the-way places. I'm pretty sure they're spreading out from the suburbs, and we can't afford to keep losing people like Roger."
The room was silent for a moment.
"You're right, of course," Walter said. "Pretty soon I think we're going to have to go several miles around the city to find anything relatively safe, and without more people we're going to have to hold out here a lot longer than we hoped. I think this one will be worth the risk, and will make it easier to reduce our trips outside in the future."
"Leon, you make a good point," Reed said, "but let's deal with that once we actually have a plan. You guys should work on that together. Anything else before we talk about the important stuff?"
After a moment of silence, Walter spoke. "Just that it's too hot in here," He said. "And if you could send someone to fluff my pillow, that's be swell." Several at the table laughed. Walter wasn't afraid of conflict, but he didn't like things to stay tense.
"So what's the story with these 'others'?" Reed asked.
"There's a lot of them, so they claim, probably more than there are of us," Leon said. "They said they'd like to join our camp, since we've got electricity." He paused. "I'm not sure how trustworthy they are."
"Right, we can't just let anybody in," Mr. Redding said. "That's been a problem, especially when people we don't know yet try to change how we're doing things."
"On the other hand," Walter interjected, "If they do get here, we would have to change things, alot for the better I think. They have engineers and mechanics, so if something does break down, Mike wouldn't be the only one trying to fix it."
"We do need the help," Flora said.
"Sure," Leon said. "I just want to make sure that they don't think they can come in here and take control. Reed, we put you in charge here for a reason. That reason still holds, and won't change just because some people with their own ways of doing things show up."
"I appreciate that," Reed said. "But I'm not mostly worried about staying in charge. I just want to make sure we can make it. We may have to make more sacrifices than they do."


Walter didn't see who knocked over the lanterns. He got distracted when Leon ran back into the house to join them, carrying Kurt's gun.
Rose looked Leon in the eye. Leon shook his head.
"This way, there's a high fence around this side, and they won't be able to come across the pool," Jason said.
They approached the side door, which was also lit with two lanterns on opposite sides. A stairway led off to the left.
"Dom! Check the door," Jason said. The short African-American pushed his way to the front.
"If we cannot run this way, go up these stairs," Dominic said. "You can come back down by the back door and hopefully get behind them." As Dominic openned the door, an arm reached in.

The fire spread quickly as Leon, Jason, and the others began racing up the stairs. Behind them, the zombies were blocked out by the ever expanding flames. Walter, Rose, and Mr. Redding brought up the rear just as one of the hungrier zombies decided to charge through the flames. (There is a reason flamethrowers are never recommended weapons against zombies.)
The three had no choice but to turn and run the other way. Rose shot several zombies ahead of them as they tried to reach the back door through the meeting room. As they reached the back of the room, two more zombies came around the corner. Rose only shot one before running out of bullets. Mr. Redding, fire poker in hand, attacked the zombie, pushing it to the other side of the doorway.
"Dad!" Rose shouted. The fire spread behind them.
Walter looked out the window and saw the others running away from the house. Leon looked back at Walter, but was quickly distracted by two zombies coming around the other side of the house.
A yank at Walter's foot send him hurtling to the ground, hitting his head on the windowsill on his way.
His vision was blurred, but he caught a glimps of what looked like a very hungry Kurt-zombie on the floor behind him, back-lit by fire. Some tall woman moved between the Kurt-zombie and Walter, some kind of stick in her hand.
With a stabbing pain, for Walter everything faded to black.

Prisoner's Dilemma

"Last house, gentlemen," Sergeant Leon Romero said, "let's get whatever supplies we can find and get out before the residents come back." The four men came around the house from around back, passing the in-ground pool typical of the suburban neighborhood they were raiding.
"Unless the residents are still alive, you mean," Walter Newman said. "We're looking for survivors, too."
"What do you think the odds of that are?" Leon asked. It was a rhetorical question, as Walter made a habit of sharing facts and figures with those around him, interested or not. "We haven't found any new survivors in a month."
"True, but I think Walt's point is we need people more than extra canned goods right now. There is no good reason I should be out scouting," Sonny said. He tried the front door as he spoke. "Designing an inventory database, sure... guys, the door is unlocked." Unlocked doors weren't unheard of since the national guard had retrieved some people from their homes suddenly. They also happened if the residents had been turned into zombies before anyone could help them.
Leon moved ahead of Sonny and opened the front door, with the others behind him.
"Alright, Leon, you're on point," Walter said, "Sonny and Jonah, check the cabinets for any non-perishable food. I'll get any toilet paper and linens I can find."
A voice came from inside the house, past Leon (who was now frozen in his tracks).
"Well how about that, Walter," the voice said. "It took you long enough to get here."

"Who is that?" Walter asked, already knowing the answer. The voice was unmistakable.
"Don't you remember me?" the curly-haired man said sarcastically.
Walter walked into the room, with Sonny and Jonah behind him. Kent Law sat in a recliner holding a bottle of Sprite in his hand. A short African-American man stood nearby in the kitchen. The man held a heavy shotgun in his hands.
"I remember you, Kent," Walter said. "Glad to see you've made it."
"It took you long enough to get here," Kent said. "I was starting to think you weren't planning to come for us."
"Well,..." Walter began.
"Do you two live here?" Sonny asked. "The place doesn't seem like it would hold up if the zombies come looking for you."
"This was my wife's parent's house, back when people had houses of their own," Kent said. "We don't live here, we..."
A flushing sound came from the bathroom, and a man came out. "We live in a secure location. The neighborhood's safe enough during the day, but the zombies come back from the city after sundown."
"Jason, this is Walt," Kent said.
"And friends," Jonah said.
"Very nice to make your acquaintance," Jason said. "Less nice to make the acquaintance of your friend's gun." Jason gestured at Leon's gun, which he still held in both hands. "Why so nervous?"
"I don't see your friend relaxing by the pool," Leon said.
"I," said the man in the kitchen, "did not enter another man's house uninvited."
Leon and the man in the kitchen stared at each other.

"Well, this is sufficiently tense," Jason said. "Kunta Kinte, grab a couple of cokes for the gentlemen here."
"What did you call him?!" Jonah said.
"He doesn't mind," Jason said. It was not at all clear that the man didn't mind. "We ran out of beer about a week and a half ago, but it turns out there's a never-ending supply of vending machines around."
"You know, we've got plenty of beer at our camp," Walter said. "We'll have to treat you guys some time."
"Where is your camp, anyway?" Jason asked, a little too innocently.
"Not too far," Leon answered. He accepted a Cherry Coke, but did not put his gun away.
"We need to get back soon, actually," Sonny said. "I've been looking forward to a hot shower."
"Hot shower?!?" Kent, Jason, and the man in the kitchen exclaimed in unison.
"How do you keep hot water?" Kent asked.
"We have electric heating," Jonah said, "at least for the moment. If anything breaks down we don't have anyone to fix it."
"We actually have a couple engineers in our camp," the man in the kitchen said, glancing hesitantly at Jason. "But we haven't had any equipment for them to work with."
"It sounds like we could be of some help to each other," Walter said.
"It sure does. Cheers," Jason said, opening a Diet Coca-Cola Black Cherry Vanilla. "We should have some of our people see your camp. Where is it?"
"Why are you so insistent?" Walter asked. Outside the window behind him, the sun fell behind the horizon.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason said.
"Then you won't mind telling us where your camp is," Leon said.
"Right," Jason said, "so you can steal from us just like you steal from all the empty houses around here!"
"Steal what, soda?" Sonny asked. "Sounds like you guys need us more than we need you!"
"Hold on," Kent said, standing suddenly between the armed men from the two camps. "Things are getting..."
The glass window in the kitchen crashed inward as an arm in tattered clothing reached in.

The man in the kitchen spun where he stood and fired his shotgun at the zombie. More windows began to shatter around them as the commuting zombies returned to their roost. Leon and Jonah slammed the front door behind them just as two more tried to get in.
"We need to get out of here, now!"
The seven men raced for the back door. The zombies surrounded them as they ran outside. One grabbed Walter, pulling him with incredible force. Kent quickly grabbed a shovel and struck the zombie in the head, freeing Walter and knocking the zombie to the ground.
The two men began running to catch up to the others, zombies lunging at them from behind. Walter looked back, although he wasn't sure why. He saw zombie after zombie pouring around the house, with several stumbling into the pool as the men ran by. The zombies sputtered, immobilized in the water.
"They can't swim," Walter said quietly. "They can't swim! Kent?"
"What?" Kent asked, a few feet ahead of Walter. The armored transport the raiders had come in was in sight.
"I'm sorry we never came for you."
Kent gave half a smile. "We'll talk about it later."
The men ran.