Infected, Zombi The City of the Zol

by Hernández, Claudio

  In only have an hour, the parade was set to begin and televised to local and regional broadcasting. However, neither of the broadcasters had shown up, something that the two technicians had also noticed as they continued organising their sound equipment.

  The sounds emanated strongly from the vehicles. Those who planned on attending the parade were already present, with their elaborate costumes in the Águilas Auditorium.

  One of the floats was comprised of elderly women from the Ferroviaria Retirement home, who were all dressed like babies, moving around with their creaky hips and knees.

  That was when one of the creatures came closer.

  ‘My, what an elaborate costume you have!’ An old woman with grey hair covered by a white hair net with blue edges exclaimed.

  The drooling zombie did not answer back, naturally.

  The blasting music was deafening, and the woman could not hear the zombie’s growls.

  ‘That blood looks so real!’ The old woman exclaimed, extending her arm. Her fingers touched the zombie’s face, who was still gazing at her with watery eyes, drooling. She felt the liquid, slightly thick, soft, and warm. ‘Is that tomato paste?’

  The zombie opened its big mouth and reached the tip of the old woman’s index finger. The woman pulled back fast, but still felt a slight pain at the tip of her finger. She cracked a smile.

  However, something was happening inside of her.

  She suddenly felt a cold sweat surging all over her body, which gave way to an unbearable heat. Her eyes suddenly began to vibrate in their sockets, like two marbles crashing against each other, as if her nose no longer existed. She had a sour taste in her mouth, which later became dry and rough. Her legs went limp and her heart beat like a hammer under her chest. Suddenly, she stood up and experienced pure darkness, like a light at the end of the tunnel, and could only see silhouettes that weren’t well defined. Her rationality began to slip, and all she could feel was thirst and hunger. Suddenly, she perceived the sweet smell of blood, which permeated her nostrils and lifted her chin up, tilting her head. Her baby’s bonnet fell to the ground like a heavy, wet sheet. Her joints became more rigid while she convulsed violently and started foaming at the mouth.

  Her companions at her side began to dance, not noticing the zombification process taking place right in front of them. The laughter came and went, obfuscated by the power sounds of samba music, or whatever the Hell it was.

  And with that, her gaze became much more furious, and her thirst for blood increased. Her heart went into cardiac arrest and her complexion went pale. She soon got back up and walked amongst the crowd.

  CXXIII

  Antonio cocked his head back, with a cigarette in his mouth, and said, ‘Dada, tonight we will take turns keeping guard on the terrace, with the door locked,’ he said, pausing to take a puff of his cigarette while his Adam’s apple went up and down, before continuing, ‘Tomorrow we will head out to the house that you like, we’ll be safe from those bloody creatures.’

  Ángel nodded under the bright light of the moon. In the distance, one could hear the rumbling of the carnival and the music. They were unaware of the dead that were currently walking amongst them.

  ‘Near Cuesta de la Cabra?’ Ángel, one of Antonio’s brothers, asked.

  ‘Indeed, it is pretty far away from here, and I don’t believe that the zombies have reached there yet, or at least they don’t have the balls to follow us,’ Antonio explained, releasing a puff of smoke from his nostrils, like a dragon releasing flames through its nose.

  ‘But that is more than ten kilometres from here,’ Mario said, leaning against the wall of the terrace, his prominent belly sticking out like a large bag of water.

  ‘And the cars are all locked up in Salvador’s garage,’ José recalled, moving his right leg involuntarily.

  ‘Blimey, it’s true!’ Antonio gasped, spitting out what was left of his cigarette. ‘So, what should we do?’ He asked, extending his arms.

  ‘Well, tonight we can go down to the garage and get them. If they cross us, then we bring them down, simple,’ Mario explained, still leaning against the wall.

  ‘You still have your clubs,’ Ángel said, pointing his index finger which couldn’t be distinguished from the dim light of the terrace and the darkness. At the corner of the terrace there were some heavy sticks next to their Doberman dog.

  ‘Be careful, my children,’ their trembling mother said.

  ‘We shall take Tara with us,’ José said without ceasing to move his right leg.

  Tara was their Doberman dog, who was now lying on the floor with its ears perked up and legs crossed on the floor, like a sphynx. At the side of its mouth loomed a protruding fang.

  Ángel interrupted his sons’ planning to retrieve the cars.

  ‘If you want to know what I think,’ he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, ‘I think that you all should think better. We can be safe here…’

  ‘Safe?’ Jesús, one of the brothers, exclaimed. There were fourteen children in total, nine sons and five daughters. ‘Everyone knows what the beasts are capable of. And should they come here again? There are some people here still hidden,’ he said, pointing towards the darkness. ‘Certainly, those drug addict things know that we are still here.’

  Ángel lowered his head, looking at the black soil in twilight. On the terrace, there was still light. However, at the bottom of the stairs, there was none. They were not sure if the zombies were attracted to lights. They did not know, however, that the zombies were blind and were guided by the pure scent of blood.

  In the background, the rumbling of the carnival could be heard, which projected echoes throughout the entire city and buildings. Tara opened its long mouth in a yawn. It extended its pink tongue, as if it were waiting for something.

  Mario finally ceased resting against the wall and offered to accompany José and Ángel, who were now leading the group. José’s right leg was still twitching nervously on the terrace. All of the boys’ sisters were now silent.

  ‘We will have to give it a go, with the blunt objects and Tara. We need those cars here before morning. And on the first hour, we leave this bloody, infected death-trap,’ Antonio said, lighting up another cigarette, with a brightness that shot through the air like an exploding boiler. Though, it was only a cigarette in the middle of the night.

  They all agreed that they would need the cars. Antonio, José, Ángel, Mario, and Jesús would be enough as a group, perhaps even more than enough. They were ignorant, however, of the new, infected zombies that were not as slow and gangly as the zombies. They were much more rapid and aggressive. However, they took to the streets, under the petty light of the moon, with their blunt objects and big, swollen balls.

  CXXIV

  The city of Águilas, a coastal city that is spread along several beaches near the Mediterranean Sea, with a castle that serves as the principle axis, is a rather large city with many areas still unaffected by the zombie plague. In other parts of the city, the tourists are making their way to the carnival.

  The zombies had already swarmed the castle, the Spanish Plaza, and all of the neighbouring streets. This is recognised by all Águilas citizens as the centre of the city. There were also three beaches that had also been affected, however, there were still others that were empty and ripe for the picking. The zombies were slow, and acted as a thick oil that hindered its own progress. There were also several hordes that were making their way up north to the hills, near the mountains, and, naturally, all of the newly awakened zombies emerging from the cemeteries.

  Regardless, there were still small, untouched areas near the mountains and beyond, such as Collados, Calabardina, Geraneos, and other urban developments that were still some ways from the city centre, completely ignorant to the events that happened in the past week, even though the message had been made clear via megaphones from helicopters; helicopters that had yet to return.

  But now, the sun had already set
for the day, having been replaced by a bright and shiny moon. The majority of the city’s inhabitants and visitors were all concentrated near the Parra Passage; a place of pilgrimage for the carnival and the parade that was to begin soon, with or without security present, or politics or preachers.

  And the undead were amongst them.

  The zombies.

  In addition to the infected that had been converted somewhere between the mortuary and the Cocedores del Hornillo district. It was an extension of land that stretched more than three kilometres, full of surprised, fun, and soon, death.

  The hour had finally arrived.

  CXXV

  Tomás had noticed the great light that shined from the top of the crane, casting radiant beams of light down upon the construction site. That grand light cast down and played with all corners of the building, showing the ins and outs, in addition to revealing the location of the group, Tomás, Sara, his nephew, and the little girl with the runny nose. His eyes were enlarged like plates, disturbed by fear. The little ones were afraid, as was he. A strange sensation that he had never felt before.

  It is funny how perspectives change for the smaller. The blonde woman was now looking at him, with a look of terror drawn onto her face.

  A black cat meowed in the distance, with a groan in its howl, probably in search of a female. The pounding music from the parade vibrated the freshly plastered walls of the construction project.

  Tomás had found a couple of sandwiches that had been preserved in a plastic bag, hanging from a nail. It must have been from a worker who wasn’t hungry and saved it for later. The bread was hard and stale, so it couldn’t have been more than two days old.

  And in his right hand, he carried the pistol, his index finger trembling on the trigger.

  CXXVI

  The continued walking up and down the cemetery that night, which was now a large expanse of rubbish, with open caskets, shattered headstones, and a waterlogged ground that was slimy and slippery. The newly formed walkers shambled and dragged their weak feet.

  Father Martín looked up towards the sky, and without noticing the splendour of his serum, said:

  ‘Behold! I have given you life, just as the Lord did unto Lazarus!’

  Behind him, Father Guillermo pursed his lips, held back a scowl, and let out a moaning noise without opening his lips. It was dark, but nonetheless, he could only see a silhouette with open arms, like Christ nailed to the cross.

  The nurses soon returned to the Norther Health Centre, their skin now blue and their eyes not as bright as before. They were opaquer, and beginning to ooze a viscous liquid. The acolytes, on the other hand, remained in the cemetery, with Father Isidoro, their arms folded together, and Father Isidoro, with a scowl in his face. His eyes shined in the darkness.

  ‘What is the point of this life if we are rotting away?’ He said, next to Father Guillermo in a quiet voice.

  Father Martín’s words dissipated in the air, or better put, suddenly choked. He turned around and began to move his dark lips.

  ‘So, you reject the life I have given you?’ Although, he knew that he was correct.

  ‘I don’t, but what bothers me is that every passing days, bits and pieces of my skin and more fall off,’ Father Guillermo interjected, a tall and robust man, like a bear. He had a bulging belly that was now dominated by putrefying gasses that pushed his cassock outwards.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think that you know what I mean already.’

  ‘Then perhaps I am ignorant, what do you mean?’

  ‘You yourself are undergoing the same problem,’ he explained to Father Martín. He understood full well what he meant, but ignored the situation.

  ‘If this is what our future holds, then I would rather be dead…’

  ‘Dead?!’ Father Martín shouted, angrily.

  Father Isidoro took a step back, his belly making a strange grumbling noise. He knew that something was brewing between the two now.

  ‘Look at me!’ Father Guillermo demanded, extending his hands under the petty light of the full moon, swollen in the sky like a white balloon, dark and mystical.

  ‘You know that we cannot see clearly, imbecile!’

  ‘Every day we are breaking down, more and more. What will finally happen when we lose our kneecaps?’

  ‘That will not happen!’ Father Martín said, the veins in his neck swelling like terribly black hoses.

  ‘Yes, it shall,’ said Father Isidoro from a distance.

  Father Martín crouched his sickly body towards him, the tip of his nose pointing outwards like a grappling hook.

  ‘So, you also reject the new life that I have given you?’

  ‘You call this life?’ Father Guillermo stood up, between Father Martín’s crouched body and Father Isidoro, who stood straight up like the trunk of a pine tree.

  ‘Are you implying that you are not falling apart like the rest of us?’ Father Guillermo added, with his voluptuous belly still making noises.

  Father Martín extended a hand, the hand that held his old Bible, now stained with blood and mucus.

  ‘Does this book speak of death?’

  ‘Indeed, you have brought up the case of Lazarus, for example,’ Father Guillermo replied.

  Father Martín withdrew his hand. Even the dead shall rise again, he thought to himself.

  ‘But Lazarus didn’t begin to rot until he was dead again!’ Father Isidoro explained, with the same scowl on his face that was highlighted by the chaos of broken tombstones everywhere.

  ‘So, what are you saying?’ Father Martín asked, in a dry voice that sounded as a waterfall crashing against rocks.

  ‘We want to be eternal,’ Father Guillermo barked back. ‘It is what you promised, no?’

  ‘And you shall be, you shall,’ Father Martín replied, looking down to the floor, which was now darker than the very night itself. He knew that if he didn’t find Hins A-Akila’s recipe for the second serum, that his two collaborators would be proven correct.

  There was a grumble between the three fathers and a smile that spread across the acolytes faces, with their hands still folded together. Their fingers intertwined and foul, violet gasses rose into the air.

  It was absurd to see these three undead priests arguing, but it was just as absurd to think of the dead getting back up and walking. In addition, they were infected, which was not the same. But their hearts didn’t beat, just like the zombies.

  CXXVII

  They advanced more and more down the lit corridor that was as big as an American cesspool. They spotted a rat that was floating on a piece of wood downstream. The small group consisted of Sebastián, the leader, Diego, Juan, Javier with his rifle, and Álvaro. The women stayed behind with the rest of the group.

  Groans could still be heard even from the most remote corners of the corridor, but it was impossible that the zombies could be there. However, the zombies had already entered the castle and were probably already crawling down the labyrinth of corridors in the castle centre, getting lost. They only had the smell of blood to guide them. The zombies that were at the opening of the sewers didn’t last long, falling against the rocks with each new wave that struck the giant, sharp stones.

  On the other side of the stronghold wall, the splashing continued, shoving the zombies against the rocks that flanked the southern part of the castle. Water mixed with the blood, which was thick and floated like diarrhoea on the seafoam.

  ‘Sooner or later they will need to join us in the shelter,’ Sebastián explained with a tired voice.

  Diego lit another torch that he was carrying, grasping it with a fist of white knuckles.

  ‘Bloody Hell is it wet down here,’ Javier complained, as he is wont to do. His lips were redder than they had ever been.

  ‘Would you rather be outside with them?’ Sebastián asked him, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, sans compassion or pain.

  Javier was speechles
s.

  They moved along this long, wet, straight corridor until reaching a new, secret door. It was full of blackened mould and slippery to the touch, as it all of the mucus of the world had collected there.

  Next to this hidden door was a rusty, metal lever that was still intact. Sebastián grabbed the lever with both hands and dropped his small weight over it. The lever gave a squeak, and the stones perfectly aligned.

  It was the opening to the door.

  Diego lit his torch and opened his eyes. Juan stroked his beard that had been growing since the invasion. Javier was behind them, with Álvaro giving him a look of dismay.

  ‘We have arrived to the refuge,’ Sebastián announced with bright yet watery eyes. His face lit up with a surge of laughter, like that of a clown. ‘Well, it’s the entrance to the refuge, at least.’

  ‘Is this where you have been all of these years?’ Diego asked him.

  Sebastián nodded in compliance.

  ‘Naturally. Here I have everything that I need to live. Fresh water, canned food, and expired drugs that still serve,’ he said, taking a pause to catch his breath. ‘I do not know whether there will be enough for everyone, for it will take time for those creatures outside to rot and fall to the ground. Perhaps about three months…’

  ‘Three months in this hole?!’ Javier complained again.

  Álvaro looked at him again with fury, but resisted saying anything. How ignorant, stupid, and arrogant, he thought to himself.

  ‘And to that, I ask again, would you rather be outside with them?’ Sebastián said, his voice booming like a waterfall. He ducked his head instinctively, entering the refuge. ‘I swear, I have never met someone as petulant as you.’