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...

What An Idea

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith!

I got stuck early in the book reading the original. My wife thinks I might be able to make it through this one. Not sure why.

25 Things About Me

Direct from The Facebook.

1. At my grandma's house, when I was a kid, I used to love riding in and pulling others in the steel wagon/converted mine cart.
2. Butter on toasted home-made bread is one of my favorite breakfasts.
3. Contrary to popular opinion, I am not taller than average. My thinness creates an optical illusion of height.
4. During my freshman year in college, some guys came around the dorms telling people about Jesus, and I proceeded to quiz them on Reformed theology to see if they were as Christian as me.
5. Everything I wrote in #3 is a lie, but it would have fooled to guys in high school.
6. For some reason, everyone in high school believed everything I said, no matter how facetious I was being.
7. Going to RUF right after a grueling workout freshman year led to my first truly emotional reaction to spiritual music.
8. Having worn costumes for various occasions over the years, one of my life goals is to create and wear a detailed costume of the Beast from Disney's Beauty and the Beast.
9. In my economic development course last fall, a classmate referred to me as an attack dog for the way I tore apart the theories and arguments in most of the papers we read.
10. Judo class freshman year was one of the most transforming experiences of my life. I'd like to get a black belt in judo one day.
11. Kingdom Come by Mark Waid and Alex Ross has some of the most spellbinding artwork I've ever seen. I could spend hours just looking at Ross' paintings.
12. Lucy, my daughter, is named after a character in a children's book. My wife and I intend to follow this trend (loosely) for all of our future children's names.
13. My favorite comic character is Batman, and if this economist thing doesn't work out fighting crime is still my backup plan.
14. Never in my whole life have I pulled an all-nighter, whether for school or fun. Past about 4 or 5 am, it just never seemed worth it to me.
15. Once, I had 5 shots of 101 proof whiskey in quick succession, just to see what the effects were like. I was home alone, got tired and bored, and proceeded to lay on my bed for 4+ hours failing to fall asleep.
16. Prior to about 3 years ago, I had never purchased or received a comic book.
17. Quite the opposite of our current situation, as a small child I was consistently taller and heavier than my older brother had been at each corresponding age milestone.
18. Red gets sucked out of everything I see (protanope). I once called a pink sidewalk chalking blue (my best guess), and my best friend laughed at me. I'm trying here, people :)
19. Students who, at the end of the semester, suddenly put together the ideas I've been teaching and know what they mean in real life are one of the main reasons I do what I do.
20. Tank was my nickname when I was 3 and 4 years old, because I would run down the hallways at church and tackle other kids. I watched too much football when I was little, so I'm told.
21. Unlike most of my friends around my own age, I had no traumatic experiences in middle school whatsoever. I can't actually remember anything of note at all from middle school. Repressed memories?
22. Venus fly traps fascinated me as a kid, until my family actually got one and I realized they mostly just sit there not moving. Kinda like all the other plants on earth.
23. Wasps and hornets are the bane of my existence. I had a bad experience as a kid, so that every time I see one I get almost uncontrollable anxiety. My wife has to rescue me sometimes.
24. Xenophobia makes me very angry.
25. Yes, I think I'm clever for making this list alphabetical.

There's my list. And for all those who know my blog, let me confirm: if the list had called for 26 facts, I would in fact have mentioned Zombies.

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.