“You see, even Zombies have preferences. For example, the one I had in here before liked dead rats, but wouldn’t touch dead mice. My job is to find out what a particular Zombie likes and train them to eat it.”
Anna inspected the selection and grabbed a handful of something foul. She held out her hand approaching the Zombie as one would a feral dog they were trying to befriend. When she stood about two feet in front of it, she tossed the food into its open mouth. The Zombie seemed to like it and open its maw for more. Anna repeated this with four other samples.
Ted watched as the Zombie asked for more, by leaning forward and moaning, for the first and third piles of meat the Anna had given to it, though samples two and four were rejected outright. Ted watched Anna make notes on her clipboard then make a small tag which she pinned to the collar of the Zombie’s jumpsuit.
Ted felt like he had created a documentary from hell. Anna was like some sort of demented mama bird to these things. The whole process horrific and he would bet his paycheck she got off on this somehow. No normal woman would think of this as a good idea, nor a positive way to spend ones time.
“Well, this one prefers rancid road kill of the armadillo variety, and raccoon. Now we train him to only eat those particular foods, thus making him safe to people. As an added benefit, it will also help keep our streets clean.”
Anna attempted a smile, and Ted wished she would go back to scowling at him.
“So what you’re saying is a Zombie can be trained not to eat people? Wow, what does your husband think of your work?” Ted mentally patted himself on the shoulder for being smooth.
“Yes, this would make Zombies safe. As for my husband, he’s supportive of my work. He’s the reason I do this, he fell victim to the virus during the war, but I refuse to give up on him.”
Ted tried to act nonchalant with this new information. John visibly shivered and took a step back from Anna. Ted looked over the woman one more time. Why were all the good ones taken?
Just then the Zombie tried to get loose from its restraints. Anna remained calm, but Ted was pretty sure he just shit his pants. Even neutered, these things were scary as hell.
Blood spurt out of the sockets in its mouth and yellowish puss oozed out of the suture marks the autopsy doctor had left. Ted reached the end of his rope. What was wrong with this Zombie? Did Ted find a defective one to follow, or were the psychos working here making it up as they went? His union would be hearing from him as soon as he got home. Was there a Phase Four? How much more of this would he have to endure? Would she ask him to sample to food? Did she eat with her husband?
“Now I know you are anxious to get to Phase Four, our final phase and see how all this hard work pays off. You won’t follow this particular Zombie any longer because he needs to be trained with road kill treats, but you’ll see the end product, and why our work here is so important.”
Anna motioned to an exit in the back and Ted took three long strides to reach it, John on his tail. He opened the door to a cleaner hallway and noticed a significant improvement in the air quality. As they left the room, they could hear Anna cooing to the Zombie about being a good boy eating all his armadillo.
They could only go in one direction, so both men walked down the hall side by side. Ted with his hand on the gun.
“Ted, what do you think Phase Four is?”
Ted cleared his throat. “I have no idea, but I don’t think it can be much worse than what we’ve seen.”
Ted kept pace with John, slow. Ted expected something to jump out every time he took a step.
“Why do you think they didn’t send us with a guard this time?”
Ted noticed John kept looking over his shoulder.
“John I have no idea, most likely because we’re totally safe here. Now quit whatever it is you’re doing, it’s making me nuts.”
“Right, be calm in a building full of Zombies.”
They arrived at the end of the hall and stood in front of yet another door. This one free of blood, and the number four written across it. Ted knocked and took six steps back. No way he would just open it to see what lurked inside.
A moment later the door opened and they were staring into the face of a Zombie. Ted screamed pulled his gun a bit causing it to point upwards. Then a rush of adrenaline made him apply just enough pressure to the trigger. He shot a hole through his favourite suit and blew off his left earlobe. John wet his pants and threw the camera at the Zombie.
“Whoa, guys. Relax. He’s harmless.” An older gentleman stood there in a three piece suit.
Ted held his ear tears running down his face. John stood awkwardly in an attempt to cover his groin.
“What the hell is this place? Are you all insane? Is it part of the job description, my viewers might ask.”
The man in the suit picked up John’s camera handing it back to him.
“I’m sorry, we thought it would be a nice surprise if you got to witness the amount of progress when you got here.”
Ted cradled his ear.
“A warning would have been appreciated.” Ted tried not to sound whiny.
“My apologies, I’m Terry Hutchings and this is the Phase Four. We thought if you saw trained Zombies doing simple tasks, such as answering a door, you would understand the value of the work we do here.”
At that moment Ted noticed the Zombie wore a clean shirt and pair of jeans, had no teeth, and seemed indifferent to their presence. The Zombie backed into the room, and John hesitantly entered. Ted noticed John walking like he had shit his pants. He smiled internally.
“Mister Brock is that blood? I thought I heard a gunshot but wasn’t certain. It happens so often.” Terry chuckled, but Ted and John just stared at him.
“I feel safe. I’m a news anchor you know. We do this kind of thing all the time. I don’t have a gun. I cut my ear on something in the hallway.”
“Okay mister Brock, we need to see to your ear and hide the blood. These Zombies have been on the wagon for weeks now and don’t need to be tempted at this crucial time in their rehabilitation.”
As they sped through the large auditorium like room, they noticed several Zombies opening panels with knobs over and over again, washing dishes, throwing newspapers papers, washing cars, and bagging groceries. Ted found it very very creepy. When the Zombies stopped and looked at him in a hungry manner, he moved quicker.
They exited the room and went into Terry’s office. They watched as he locked it. There were twenty-three dead bolts, five chains, and a bar he jammed into place. Ted raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. John zoomed in on it.
Terry handed Ted some wet paper towels and motioned him to a sink in the corner. As Ted bent his head he tried to regain some of his professionalism and conduct the interview.
“So, mister Hutchings, what exactly do you see in the future for these Zombies once they are reintegrated?”
“We see all sorts of great things for them. The ones like you just saw that can be trained can help with small jobs here and there. Of course they would be prohibited from working with kids, and the food industry.”
“Why is that?”
Ted rinsed his ear one last time and then held some paper towels to it as he stood.
“It’s a safety precaution to keep them away from kids. All sorts of things can happen. As for the food industry, well it is a matter of hygiene. Zombies are decaying, and no amount of chemical intervention will stop the process. The last thing you want is to order a salad and find a finger or an eye in it. The repercussions would be catastrophic for what we’re trying to do here.”
“Right, of course, makes sense. All this looks fantastic, but what about the ones you can’t reintegrate, or fall off the wagon?” Ted positioned himself between Terry’s desk and the other door.
“We’re working very hard to ensure that doesn’t happen. I’m positive within the year we’ll be able to safely reintegrate all of the living dead back into society.”
“Really? All of them? Weren�
�t there millions? `Seems like an awful lot.”
“It is, but if they are safe and pose no threat, then where is the problem?”
“Why don’t you two take a seat and we can discuss the work we are doing here.”
Ted’s ear throbbed, and his pants were full of shit, so taking a seat, not something he wanted to do. In fact when he got home he planned on bathing in antiseptic.
“Mister Hutchings, we can see the good work you’re doing here. I promise to air what we taped today so the whole world will see how hard you’re working to make Zombies safe so they pose no threat when reintegrated into society.”
“Are you sure mister Brock? I thought there would at least be an interview?”
“It isn’t necessary, we have enough footage. Great meeting you, and the work you’re doing here is fantastic. I wish you the best of luck. We’ll just be on our way.”
John was out the door and halfway to the car by the time Ted felt mister Hutchings grab him.
“Mister Brock, we had a deal. We paid you a lot of money to get some good press.” Ted shifted uncomfortably.
“I promise you’ll get good press off of this. I want a promotion and the bleeding heart liberals love this kind of stuff. I however, am not a liberal and think this place is a carnival of horrors.”
“I don’t care what you think it is as long as you sell it as a rehabilitation center doing good work. Are we clear? Wouldn’t want anything happening to you would we?” Ted made an audible gulping noise.
“You don’t scare me.” The quiver of his voice made his statement unconvincing.
“I may not, but I know my Zombies do.”
“Why do you want them reintegrated back into society so badly anyways?” Hutchings grabbed Ted tighter and held him close as he spoke into his ear.
“That really is no concern of yours, although I would recommend you learn how to properly fire your gun. Now you go and put on a good show. Oh, and for the love of God, change your shorts. You smell worse than one of them.”
Ted ran out of the room as fast as possible. He headed for the news van and barely made it inside before John started to drive away. Ted cleared his throat.
“I need to stop at home and change.” John looked out the window.
“Me too, roll down your window.” Ted rolled down his window, but looked at John.
“You should also have the van cleaned before we take it back in.”
Ted was uncomfortable with the silence. He felt as if he should say something.
“Well, interesting experience, should get some good ratings with the footage.”
“I hate you.”
“Okay then, at least there’s no way Heidi is going to scoop me on this story. This is going to make me a star, and she can go back to lap dancing for the producers.”
***
In the studio, Ted frantically made the cut motion with his hand across his throat.
“God damn it, John, stop the tape.” John finally relented, but by the look on Heidi’s face Ted could tell she was ticked off at him.
“I’m sorry you all had to hear and see that. It was highly unprofessional of John to do that. The stress made me do and say things I normally would not. As the tape you saw indicated, we were in a scary place for the uninformed.”
Heidi cleared her throat and straightened in her chair with a plastered smile on her face. Ted approached the anchor desk as if he expecting as blow of some kind. He avoided eye contact with her at all cost, and tried to make as little movement as possible.
“So, Ted, you would consider yourself one of the informed now? A trip to a rehabilitation clinic under investigation for cruel and unusual punishment, and all of a sudden you’re mister Informed.” Heidi was getting visibly agitated, turning to look at Ted.
“Heidi, you saw the great works they’re doing there. It’s just going to be a matter of time until they’re able to reintegrate the Zombies back into normal lives. It will be like nothing ever happened.” Ted shuffled some papers in front of him.
“Like nothing ever happened. Have you lost your mind? The Zombie War just finished and you think that things will return to normal? Wow, a Zombie can answer a door, deliver a paper, and wash a car. Did you know they can also eat dogs, cats, kids, and adults? Did you know they can infect millions of people with fluid contact, and that there is no cure?” Heidi pointed a finger at Ted as she yelled.
“Heidi, I have no idea what you are talking about, but I think you need to take a step back and re-watch my documentary. You missed the entire point of what they’re trying to do.” Ted looked up at the camera and smiled. Why wouldn’t she just be quiet already?
“Are they paying you? Have they bought you off for some good press?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. In fact I have no idea why you’re talking so much. I’m the senior anchor here, back to me.” Ted smiled again, trying to regain control of the situation.
“You arrogant son of a bi-”
“As I was saying, this documentary clearly points out the direction Zombie rehabilitation is going. They will no longer pose a threat as they are neutered. They will also be on a strict diet of whatever dead things they prefer. Lastly, they will go through a tough rooting out process to make sure that they can perform the tasks we ask of them. Personally, I think this is a giant step for mankind, or Zombiekind as it may be.”
Heidi sighed. “Good God will someone shut him up.” She slammed her fists on the desk.
Standing up to her full six foot height Heidi cut an imposing figure. She grabbed her earpiece and threw it on the desk. Turning a fiery gaze towards Ted, she waited until he made eye contact.
“I have worked with you far too long, and taken your shit even longer. I have multiple degrees in journalism, broadcasting, and media. I am a better news anchor than you could ever dream to be, and I have never in my life given a lap dance. You can take this anchor position and shove it.” Heidi stormed off the stage leaving Ted alone at the desk.
“Oh and Ted, one more thing. Since you love Zombies so much, I had the entire crew here replaced with them for the night. They can help you with the rest of the newscast.”
Ted felt the fingers of panic running up and down his spine. What the hell was Heidi up to? She had to be after his job. Did she really think that he would fall for this? People loved him, he was Ted Brock after all.
Ted sat at his desk and heard shuffling off to his left. He let out a small scream when a well-dressed female Zombie took the seat next to him. The Zombie had a totally vacant expression as it stared straight ahead.
Ted had no idea what to do, thinking didn’t come easy to him. The rest of the show was Heidi’s job. She did the local, regional, weather chat, and global issues. Of course none of that was important. What really mattered, what brought in the viewers, was what he did, the introduction, people paid attention to Ted Brock.
Ted shifted in his seat and looked for John. Perhaps he could help him out of this predicament. Ted looked all over and his heart fell as he realized there was no one else there, no one living at least. Then he heard an eerily familiar noise. He looked around. What made that noise?
Then a soft scraping sound. He looked to his left and saw the creepy Heidi replacement still there. Perhaps the studio had hired one to be a janitor, or replace John. He didn’t really want to work with one, but he couldn’t be picky.
Then the lights went off. He saw the red light on the camera, it was recording. A familiar smell swept through the room as he felt himself sprayed with something. He tried to place it. Then it dawned on him, armadillo. A brief shadow crossed the red light, and Ted knew he had a problem.
Ted didn’t want to die, not like this. Zombies eating him, gnawing on his organs, sharing bits of his brain. The panic had grown into full blown terror. He stood up to run, escape the studio, but tripped.
As soon as he hit the ground, he felt something grab his leg, seconds later he felt teeth sink into him.
“Someone
please help me. I’m Ted Brock!”
Ted felt something on his back. He automatically turned to look even though he couldn’t see. Something held his head and reached inside his mouth ripping out his tongue. He squirmed for a few minutes trying to scream then stopped.
Ted Brock, officially off the air.
************
Suzanne Robb is the author of Z-Boat, coming in 2014 from Permuted Press, Were-wolves, Apocalypses, and Genetic Mutation, Oh my!, and Contaminated. She is a contributing editor at Hidden Thoughts Press, and co-edited Read The End First with Adrian Chamberlin which made the Stoker Recommended Reading List for 2012. In her free time she reads, watches movies, plays with her dog, and enjoys chocolate and LEGO’s.
http://suzannerobb.blogspot.com/
Julianne Snow
*** Excerpt from Days with the Undead: Book One (reprinted with permission from Sirens Call Publications) ***
Day 3…
It was a close call today. We’ve been travelling west, trying to get in front of and then outrun the Undead for almost two days now. Trying to stay off the roads but keeping close enough to use them if the need arose was getting more and more difficult. And then the inevitable happened.
We came across a horde of the Undead just mulling – well, not even mulling - just standing in a clearing early this morning. As far from them as we were and as silent as we were being, something or someone in our group caught their global attention and the collective of milky white eyes that turned in our direction was positively bone-chilling.
As we stared dumbstruck in horror, drawn to the sight as one becomes to a horrific accident, we soon realized that we would need to move. Our frozen tableau continued though, even as the ballerina-like synchronicity of decomposing limbs turned and started to move in our direction. Our ridged limbs not comprehending the commands to take flight from our terrified minds.
I don’t remember quite when we started to run or what broke the reverie we were all experiencing. I just know that we ran and were thankful that we had a path to travel. The Undead are unconcerned with such things, and the thick foliage and uneven ground would help to slow them down.
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