The Z Chronicles

by Ellen Campbell

  "Are you okay?" Mark asked.

  "Fine," she said. "We've got a sprinter below us."

  "Two zombies in one day? It's like Founder's Day with presents."

  "You have a strange gift list," she joked. "Check the book. Should we salvage or put it down?"

  Mark looked at a tablet. The computer displayed the orders.

  "Looks like we need him."

  Mark grabbed a rope. He tied a slipknot and lowered the rope over the edge, spinning it so the loop stayed open. The zombie raised its hands as it jumped in an impossible attempt to reach them. Mark used the zombie's movements to his advantage and slipped the rope around the zombie's torso. He pulled, and the rope went tight under the zombie's arms. It seemed not to notice. Together, Mark and Ella pulled the zombie up.

  It came to the top of the wall with its arms still up, which made its hands easy to restrain. The chomping mouth was another matter. It was also tricky to maneuver the thrashing zombie over the spikes without damaging it. Ella held the part of the rope that bound its hands while Mark worked the zombie over the edge. The zombie was nearly over when the tattered remains of its pants caught on a spike.

  Ella pulled the zombie's top half away from Mark as he lifted its feet and tried to free its leg. The zombie bucked and pulled. As its leg came free it kicked out, pulling Ella off balance and letting the rope slip just enough for the zombie to turn back to Mark. The zombie bared its teeth and Mark tried his best to drop out of the way. He held his arm up to shield his face as he kicked at the zombie, but wound up catching a forearm full of teeth.

  Ella rushed over, grabbed the zombie by a small patch of its remaining hair, and pushed its head down onto a spike. The sharpened metal went through one temple, and poked out the other. It stopped moving. Ella let go and was careful to avoid the blood.

  Mark sat on the watchtower, stunned.

  Ella ran to a box mounted to the wall. She pressed her thumb to the sensor, and after a moment, the box opened. She grabbed a first aid kit out of it and ran back to Mark.

  Mark was still seated. He held his arm close to body. Ella sat down next to him. She tore off her visor and reached for his arm. He pulled it away.

  "Let me see," she said.

  Reluctantly, he offered her his arm. Two rows of dental impressions were visible near the elbow. A sob burst from Ella, but she quickly choked it back and began to bandage his arm.

  "I was hoping it didn't break the skin," she said.

  "Me, too."

  She reached into the case and took out a pill. Mark opened his mouth and she placed it inside. The pill dissolved in seconds. She removed a tube of medical sealant and spread the liquid bandage over his wound. It stopped bleeding.

  The two sat there in silence, considering the situation.

  "Mark, I'm so sorry."

  "Don't be. It wasn't your fault. Maybe the anti-viral will work. Or who knows, maybe I'm one of the luckies and I'll be naturally resistant."

  A voice spoke in Ella's ear.

  "Agent Lane, we received an alert that Agent Mark Lane was bitten by a zombie. We have a team headed to your position. I know that he's your husband, but you need to secure him until they arrive. Understood?"

  "Yes," she said.

  The call disconnected.

  "The CZC is on their way," she said.

  Mark rubbed his fingers over the raised indention of the tracking device in his arm.

  "They're fast. Must mean that it's already in my blood."

  "We don't know that. Someone could have heard the commotion and called it in."

  "Doesn't matter," he said. "They know I'm bit, and now, they're going to come and collect me."

  He reached for her and held her close. She put her head on his chest. His heart sounded steady and calm. Hers was racing. He held her tighter and tears rolled down her face.

  "Maybe it's not so bad," he said.

  She glanced at the impaled zombie.

  "How can you think that?" she asked.

  "There has to be something inside of them. Some echo of who they were. And this isn't our grandparents’ generation. It's not a death sentence to be a zombie."

  She pushed back from him.

  "Seems pretty close to me."

  "Please, Ella, I need to believe that being a zombie is preferable to death. If you don't think it is, then you should just end me right now."

  "You're right," she said, nodding unconvincingly. "Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe we'll even still get to work together."

  "Human, well, zombie shield, reporting for duty."

  They both gave a small chuckle, more out of discomfort than any real amusement at the joke.

  "What do we do now?" she asked.

  "We wait."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ella heard the distant roar of a truck engine. Vehicles were rarely used, and almost exclusively for collection of the infected. The sound echoed through the city and grew louder, until it was almost deafening.

  The truck pulled to a stop and men with automatic guns jumped out. The roar of the truck was replaced by the rattling click of guns bouncing against bodies and boots as the soldiers ran up the stone staircase.

  As they rounded the last flight, they pulled their guns up to eye level, ready to fire if needed. Ella recognized many of the faces that were half hidden by rifles.

  "Put those down," she said.

  "Sorry Ella, we have orders," one of the men said.

  They formed a semi-circle around Mark and Ella.

  "Turn around, hands behind your backs."

  Ella watched as Mark turned around.

  "You too," he said.

  "What?" Ella asked. "I wasn't bitten."

  "Orders are to bring you both in. Turn around. I won't tell you again."

  Ella could hardly believe what she was hearing. Stunned, she turned slowly and was pushed forward against the wall. She tried to glance behind her, but caught an arm to the face for her trouble. A tone sounded inside of her head as pain blossomed across her face. She felt dazed and numb. She shook her head and clicked her jaw, trying to rid herself of the sensation. She managed to regain enough wits to look ahead, over the wall as her arms were bound tight.

  They placed a gag in her mouth. She tried to protest again, remind them that she hadn't been bitten, but all that came out was a muffled, panicked noise.

  Next, they bound her feet. She wondered how they expected her to get down the stairs, until two men picked her up, one by the arms, the other by the legs. They carried her down the stairs. She dared crane her next to try to look behind her, and saw three men carrying Mark in much the same fashion.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they were loaded into the canvas-covered truck. Inside, there was a metal cage. Ella struggled as they pushed her into it. Despite her objection, they managed to shove both her and Mark in and locked it.

  The soldiers piled in behind the cage. Ella pounded on the metal in frustration. The soldiers mistook the action for violence. One of the men produced a dart gun. A pop sounded, followed by a whistle. Ella felt the sting of the dart as it pierced her chest. She looked down to see the fuzzy, black back of it protruding from her chest.

  She heard another pop and whistle. Her vision began to blur. She looked at Mark, and saw that he had a matching dart in his chest. She kicked at the cage again, but with much less vigor. Soon she found that she couldn't hold herself up.

  The truck started. The sound seemed muted inside the vehicle. The vibrations of the engine aided the sedative as it tried to coax her to sleep. Unable to fight the drug, she laid down in Mark's arms. He was much more awake than she was. He held her. As she lay against him, she noticed that Mark wasn't his usual space-heater self.

  She squeezed into him, holding his arms tight against her. As the sedative won and she began to fall asleep, she wondered if this would be the last time he'd ever hold her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ella awoke alone in a dark room. She had been propped up in a chair with her hands secu
red to the table by tight metal shackles with magnetic locks. The gag was still in her mouth. She shifted her foot in her boot. Her knife was gone.

  She felt woozy from the sedative, but fought against it. She tried to call out into the darkness, but only a muted sound emerged. She worried that her cries would go unheard, but a moment later, the lights came on and Dr. Bell walked into the room.

  Dr. Bell was the head and founding member of the Center for Zombie Control, as well as their city. Everyone worked under her, but Ella had never met her before. Still, she knew who this woman was. Bell was in her mid-sixties, but could have passed for being in her forties if not for her shoulder length gray hair. Her posture projected confidence. As always, she wore a long white coat, with the words: Dr. Bell stitched in red just below the left shoulder. The words sat above an embroidered, red bio-hazard symbol.

  Two soldiers entered behind the doctor. Bell instructed them to remove Ella's gag and release her hands. The soldiers did as instructed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Ella wondered if she were being let go. And if so, then why was she still in this room?

  "Dr. Bell," Ella said, her voice equal parts raspy and concerned.

  "Hello Ella. Sorry about all the trouble. We had to make certain that you were not infected. You understand that every precaution must be taken when someone is bitten, right?"

  Ella nodded. She wanted to scream at Bell for the way she'd been treated and remind her that she was never bitten. She knew that all anger would do was get her in trouble, so she kept it to herself.

  "How's Mark?"

  Bell took a seat across the table from Ella.

  "He's been bitten, Ella. You know what that means."

  Ella knew. A practically eternal life of mindless servitude if he's viable. Certain death if he isn't.

  "Isn't there any chance that the anti-virals will work?" Ella asked.

  "It doesn't look good. He's already taken to eating."

  Ella was surprised.

  "You fed him before you even knew?"

  The Necrovirus worked by preventing cells from replicating. The virus allowed for only the most basic functions to be left intact to ensure the host's survival. However, it was far from a perfect system. The virus had to replenish itself and its host with fresh cells. The more cells, the more virus. This was what compelled the zombies to eat, and why the virus spread so quickly. By feeding Mark one of her lab-grown brains, Bell had quickened his transformation.

  "It's better to not waste time in these situations," Bell said. "I hope that you will find some comfort in the knowledge that he shows a lot of promise. We think he could be valuable. Perhaps the two of you will still be able to work together."

  An image of Mark as a mindless, decaying shell of his former self flashed in her mind. She cringed and held back sobs.

  "I want to go outside of the wall," Ella said.

  "There are better ways to commit suicide."

  "I'm not talking about suicide. Dr. Bell, I have reason to believe that there is a cure beyond the wall."

  "That's absurd."

  Ella shifted in her chair and straightened up, trying to project a confidence to match Bell's.

  "It's not," Ella said. "I've observed strange behavior in some of the zombies out there. They're working together, not just alongside each other. I think that there is someone out there controlling them. And as you pointed out, no one can survive outside the wall, let alone well enough to control zombies. He must have a cure. Or at least some sort of partial cure to make those zombies more alive than ours."

  "You're upset. It's understandable. But you're misinterpreting what you've seen."

  "Please, just let me go outside and look. I don't need anyone to go with me. I'll go alone."

  Bell stood.

  "The answer is no, Ella. Let's forget for a moment that there's no way to get outside of the wall, other than climbing down the wall and dangling like zombie bait. If anyone saw you outside, then they'd all want to go out. And if that happens, you can say goodbye to our society. You can say goodbye to the human race. So again, Ella, the answer is no. And if you try to go outside, you will be shot."

  Bell didn't wait for Ella to reply. She began towards the door, certain that the conversation was over.

  "What if I took the tunnels?" Ella asked.

  Bell stopped mid-step, but didn't turn around.

  "What tunnels?" she asked.

  "Mark and I, we found tunnels that appear to lead outside of the city. It must let out farther than we can see, or we'd have known about them. I can take it and no one will have to know."

  Bell hung her head and shook it.

  "Oh, Ella."

  Bell left the room. Ella was about to follow when the soldiers returned. She stood, but they rushed to her and pushed her back in her seat. They re-secured her hands to the table.

  "What are you doing?" she shouted.

  The soldiers paid her no attention and left the room.

  Bell returned with a zombie behind her. Ella didn't recognize the drifter. It followed behind Bell as she came further into the room, dazed and dumb.

  "What's going on?" Ella asked.

  "No one is supposed to know about the tunnels. I can't allow that information to leave this room."

  She led the zombie closer. Ella jumped from her seat. Her body was snapped forward by her bound hands. She pulled, dragging the table until she ran into the far wall. She dropped to the floor, trying to hide under the table.

  But there was no escaping. Bell led the drifter to her, pushed its head down, and guided its remaining teeth into her arm. Ella cried out at the pain of her tearing flesh. Bell pulled the zombie back. The taste of real flesh made it feistier than before, but it was still drugged, and so Bell handled it easily. She pushed the drifter toward the door. It lazily protested, flailing its arms in the direction of Ella.

  "It's a shame," Bell said. "We need a bigger zombie work force, but I was hoping to spare the females, what with breeding season coming up. Oh well."

  With that, she left the room with the drifter ahead of her.

  Ella lay under the table, trembling and afraid that in trying to save Mark, she'd been sentenced to a fate far worse than death.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It had been more than a day since Bell infected Ella. Ella felt tired, yet restless, and her muscles were stiff. She knew that the virus was taking hold of her.

  More than almost anything, Ella wanted to eat the brain that sat on a plate on the table in front of her. At its first presentation, just hours after she had been bit, it repulsed her. The soldier took it away and two hours later, brought her a new one. Each time a fresh one arrived it looked better. She tried not to look at it, not to smell it, and not to let on that she was salivating. A force inside her told her to eat it. But she resisted. Eating the brain was giving up.

  "This is your last chance," a solider said.

  He had delivered the brain. Every time, the soldier dropped it at the table, stood in the corner until the brain was no longer fresh and therefore would no longer be desirable, and then removed it. This would be his last delivery.

  The soldier checked his watch and determined that she was out of time.

  Ella refusal to eat would mean that she would be judged as unviable. Next would be real death for her, either by the virus or the hands of the CZC.

  The soldier came to her. Rather than collecting the brain, this time, he unfastened her hands from the table, though they remained bound. He pulled Ella to a standing position. She resisted.

  "Wait," she said. "I'll do it. I'll eat it. Please."

  The solider released her arm. She turned to pick up the plate with the brain on it. She brought it close to her face and opened her mouth. The soldier watched intently. She was just about to take a bite, when she swung around, plate in hand, and bashed it into the soldier’s head. He fell down on one knee and looked at her with rage in his eyes. She brought her arms up, and slammed the metal shackles down hard on hi
s head before he could react. He fell flat on the ground.

  Ella was stunned by her own violence. She hadn't fought a human before. She knelt over the body and removed the gun from the soldier’s hip holster. She searched his pockets for a release for the shackles. She couldn't find one. While she was close, she could see that his chest still rose and fell. She was relieved that she hadn't killed him.

  A pang of hunger struck her. The smell of fresh blood, of real, living flesh was almost overwhelming. Her heart pounded so hard that it ached. She closed her eyes and tried to refocus. She thought of Mark. The urge to eat passed. Once she had collected herself, she grabbed the guard's key card and stood up.

  She held the badge in one hand, and the gun awkwardly in the other. She wouldn't be able to effectively wield either with her hands bound. She went to the door, angled her body, and clumsily swiped the key card over the electronic lock. It beeped and pressed in. She waited a second to see if any reinforcements were waiting to burst into the room. No one came. She carefully put the key card and the gun in her pocket. She placed one hand on the doorframe and pulled the other as far out of the way as she could. She took a deep breath. Then, with her leg, kicked the door closed as hard as she could.

  It landed on her hand with a crunch. There was pain, but it felt muted, and far less than it should have been. The magnetic door locks tried to pull the door the rest of the way, threatening to cut off her hand. She slipped her foot, and then her leg, into the gap and forced it back open. The lock made a low tone and relented.

  Ella's hand was mangled. It slipped through the shackle, untethering her hands. Now, with her good hand, she could grip the gun effectively. She found that she still had a little mobility in her damaged hand. Her thumb and pointer finger could still grasp. She held the key card with them. There was a grinding feeling, but the pain had almost disappeared.

  She poked her head out the door and confirmed that the way was clear. She left the room and closed the door behind her. The building was shaped like a honeycomb with long stretches of corridors that spanned out in hexagonal loops that connected with new junctions at the points. She knew her way through most of the building. To her right, there were offices and labs. To her left, there was a practice area for field training zombies before letting them out into the work force.