Aliens Versus Zombies

by Mark Terence Chapman

  Jay approached the man, and sniffed. “Zom,” he said.

  “That’s right,” Daniels confirmed. “He and another attacked us in the feed store. Fortunately, Jesse was able to coldcock him with a shovel.”

  “Got ‘im good, too,” Jesse said with a nod.

  “He was lying there unconscious and then I got an idea. If Jay, Suzi, and Joanie can be taught to coexist with us, why not other Zoms?”

  “Yeah,” the newly arrived Geoff said, “but they were already tamed before they got here.”

  “True, but if little Amanda could tame Jay and the others—no offense, Jay—all by herself, shouldn’t we be able to do the same? Think about it. Every one we dezombify not only stops being a threat, they can become valuable members of the community. They may not be particularly smart, but surely they can help with gardening, cleaning, maybe even learn to use a hammer and saw to help us rebuild. I’m not saying we should ‘adopt’ any Zom we come across, at least not yet, but I thought we might use this one as a guinea pig. If we can tame him, why not others? If we can’t, well, at least we tried.”

  Geoff chewed his lip in thought. “I agree. It’s worth a try, but where can we keep him while we try to teach him? We can’t very well let him run around loose, attacking people.”

  “How about the old jail? We can keep him behind bars while we try to reprogram his brain to see us as something other than food.”

  “Perfect. To the jail it is.”

  * * * *

  The next few weeks were heady ones, as the group collaborated on how best to handle the process. It was decided early to try to replicate Amanda’s earlier success with Jay and the others. They began by offering Steve, as he became known, beef jerky, and other meaty treats. He gobbled them up as eagerly as the others had. Hunger quenched, he was more likely to stop and listen than to lunge at the humans through the bars. He had stopped doing that anyway, after Jay, Suzie, and Joanie growled and lunged back a few times. After that, he seemed to accept that he was safer inside his cell where the other Zoms couldn’t get to him.

  They continued to ply him with junk food, to get him used to eating things besides raw meat, and then cooked meat.

  They also had Amanda talk to Steve, just as she had with the others, about nothing in particular—her favorite dolly, her favorite foods, how much she liked shamrocks and unicorns. It didn’t matter. It was the soothing chatter of her voice they were after.

  After a few days, Steve even seemed to pay attention to what she was saying, even though he clearly didn’t understand it. A few days after that, he began to watch her drawing with chalk and playing with her dolly. When she sang, he seemed captivated by her adorable, if off-key, voice. Soon he watched everything she did, chattering all the while.

  Then she began teaching, starting with her name and his, and the alphabet, how to count to ten, and so on, just as she had done earlier. Over time, others began teaching him different skills, such as how to tie various knots and hammer nails into boards.

  As with Jay and the others, he learned quickly. By early March, the group decided that he posed no more threat to the community than Jay and the others. He was moved into the mansion.

  Thus, Steve became the fourth dezombified Zom. They became known as D-Zoms, to distinguish them from the bad Zoms.

  * * * *

  Daniels rolled over in bed and stretched. Then he looked at his watch. It was 6:12 am on March 23, 2035.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s Apocalypse Day.”

  Chrissy yawned and turned onto her back. “I’m awake. Morning, lover.”

  “Morning. Breakfast will be soon. Let’s get a shower and head downstairs.”

  “Jus’ five more minutes, Mom.”

  “Now.” He kissed her, hard, for a few seconds.

  “Mmm. That’s my kind of alarm clock. Maybe we can be a few minutes late for breakfast?” She raised a provocative eyebrow, with a small smile on her lips.

  “Well, maybe a few… See you in the shower.”

  She watched his naked form enter the shower before rising and doing the same.

  * * * *

  March 23, 2035.

  After a hearty breakfast, prepared with the assistance of two of the D-Zoms, the forty-nine citizens of Haven gathered in the town square. In the center of the square stood a statue of a soldier holding an upraised American flag. He looked toward the sky.

  Geoff Meisner, the de facto mayor of Haven, stood in front of the statue. The others stood arrayed in front of him.

  After everyone arrived, Geoff began speaking.

  “Two years ago today began the darkest period in human history. Perhaps it was God’s will, a modern version of the Great Flood, meant to cleans the world of sinners, as some have suggested. Maybe it was man’s hubris, attemptin’ to play god by manipulatin’ the very stuff of life. Or maybe it was just blind, stupid, bad luck. No one knows how or why this mess began.

  “Either way, we found ourselves in a war of sorts, a war for the very survival of the human race. During that war, billions died and continue to die. Although we mourn the loss of all those people, billions is too large a number to really grasp. Instead, let’s remember those we’ve loved and lost. A moment of silence, please.”

  All forty-nine residents of Haven bowed their heads in silent memory of friends and family.

  Then one spoke. “Josephine Cooper. My sister; my best friend.”

  Another said, “Patrick Pflug, loving father.”

  And then another, and another, until everyone was eulogizing at once those they’d lost in a cacophony of names.

  It was heartbreaking to relive their deaths, but also uplifting to remember their lives. Tears of sorrow mixed with tears of joy, in a catharsis born of two years of loss and pain, with little hope for the future—until now.

  They were building a new life for themselves, beginning to look toward the future, beginning to hope. Maybe the Zoms would stop being a threat. Maybe the aliens would leave them alone. There were a lot of ‘maybes’, but no answers.

  Still, a little hope goes a long way.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  FronCar surveyed the area from the air. The pilot banked to give him a better view. Below, sat the first Drahtch city of their new home, nearly completed. Glistening blue, green, pink, and violet iridescent towers soared more than a thousand vorts high, offering a grand view of the adjacent river and the forest surrounding the city and across the river.

  The city resided in the midst of what had evidently been a preserve the indies had set aside, free from development. Drahtch heavy machinery had made short work of the forest at that site, while preserving the beauty of the weird oddly green trees of this planet. Automated construction equipment assembled the buildings much faster than mere manpower could have. Beyond the forest, in a broad open plain, equally automated farming equipment was already conditioning the soil to bring it up to Drahtch standards, removing some nutrients and replacing them with ones more conducive to Drahtch plant growth. Beyond that, a huge hydroponic facility had just gone into operation, for those crops that couldn’t tolerate the extremes of heat and cold indigenous to this area.

  Although taking far longer than FronCar would have liked, he had to give the viceroy credit; it was a magnificent sight to behold.

  The road connecting the new city to the old knifed arrow-straight through forest, hills, and valleys. FronCar admired its precision. Unlike the indie roads, which were already crumbling, this one would last for a thousand years or more, as would the buildings. The nearby spaceport, also carved out of the virgin forest, also neared completion. Although not quite operational, it would eventually be able to hold dozens of ships. However, once the offloading of the orbiting carrier ships was completed, there would be little need for warships. Because the 20,000 fighters hadn’t been needed, most would remain in orbit with the twenty immense carriers. Only a few would be kept at the spaceport, just in case.

  Most of the travel would be between Paradise, as t
he city would be christened shortly, and the other cities being built on other landmasses across the planet. Currently, two other cities were under construction, although nowhere near as far along as this one. One was on the other side of the planet, and the other was in the southern hemisphere. Each was chosen for the beauty of its surroundings, and each would be another jewel in the crown of the Empire.

  Within a year, all three cities would be occupied, and then three more started after that, continuing until all 2.5 million Drahtch were settled into their new cities. Each city was customized from a standard blueprint, adjusted as needed to fit into its surroundings. The layout was designed for an initial population of 30,000, with expansion continuing over time. Large enough for all the comforts of home, but without the overwhelming population pressures of Draht.

  Due to the success of the hyperallergy virus, the indie infestation in the immediate areas was already down to the mere-nuisance level.

  FronCar smiled at how well things were going. Because of the lack of organized resistance on the part of this planet’s population, his men had suffered relatively trivial losses at the hands of the indies. He’d expected to lose at least half of his men in ground missions to root out heavily armed survivors, and many of his ships to orbital and ground defenses. Instead, his biggest worry was how two million men would share only half a million breeding females. Still, as worries went, that was minor. Plus, most of the planet was relatively intact, and would eventually be terraformed into the Drahtch vision of the perfect home. The filth of indie existence would be wiped from the map within a few decades.

  But that reminded FronCar of something. Before he could even think about beginning his well-earned retirement, he still had to finish dealing with the indie infestation in the immediate area. While the perimeter barrier protected the human city from indie intrusion, the Drahtch wouldn’t stand for having to seal themselves inside their new city once they moved in. It wouldn’t do to have feral indigenes roaming the streets of Paradise, accosting peaceful citizens.

  No, the remaining indies for as far as the eye could see would have to be eliminated first.

  “Pilot, take us back. I have some planning to do.”

  * * * *

  Daniels and Chrissy strolled hand in hand through the park. It was a beautiful sunny day, with puffy white clouds scudding across the sky. The breeze carried a subtle sent of indefinable growing things. Although taken over by weeds, the park still was a beautiful, restful place to spend time. Red, white, pink, and purple azaleas beginning to bloom surrounded the gazebo near the center of the park. Even the dandelions growing in the grass added pinpoints of yellow to the tableau. The small pond behind it contained several ducks, and two squirrels chased each other around an oak tree.

  The couple walked up the three steps to the center of the gazebo and admired the view from there. Then Daniels dropped to one knee, still holding Chrissy’s hand. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “What—?”

  “Chrissy Montoni, although I haven’t known you long, it feels like I know you better than anyone else I’ve ever met. You’ve stood by my side through hardship and death, watched my back as I watched yours, and made me fall in love with you. Now, I can’t imagine going through life without you. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  She stared at him for a long second, then burst out laughing. “Of course, you big lug! What do you think I’ve been waiting for?”

  She jumped into his arms and planted kisses all over his face.

  “I have so much planning to do. I’d better get started. Maybe one of these days we can talk about starting a family. Oh! Speaking of families, did you know that Suzi is pregnant?”

  “What? No. How did that happen?”

  Chrissy flashed an impish grin. “How do you think, silly?”

  “No…I know…I mean…oh, never mind. I just thought she was getting chubby.”

  “Men! Of course, the rest of us weren’t sure, either, until today. It’s not like there’s an OB/GYN around or birth control pills for that matter. The ones at the pharmacy all expired ages ago. But we found some pregnancy test kits that weren’t terribly past their expiration date. I imagine there will be a fair amount of this sort of thing going around.”

  * * * *

  FronCar marched into the ground-based Command Center. Things would be happening quickly now and he wanted to be able to see the results first-hand, rather than from orbit. There was nothing he could do here that he couldn’t do from the command ship, but being onsite held an immediacy for him that he preferred.

  “CommTech GrevJar, report.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been following the movements of the indies for 100 crines in all directions, as ordered. Mostly, it’s one here and two there. But there are three hotspots where moderate numbers gather.” He projected a live hologram of the area into the middle of the room, overlaid with the hotspots. He pointed. “Here in the woods, this appears to be some sort of campground with fourteen individuals living in communal cabins—they’re actually made from wood, of all things! Over here is a village with approximately fifty indies, living in multiple homes. And on the other side of the city is a group of nineteen living in another small village. There is no indication of military activity at any of the sites; just indies living out their lives, as short and brutish as they are.”

  FronCar nodded. “Excellent. Keep tracking them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He then contacted his second-in-command, Commander JesBronn. After the usual pleasantries, he said, “Send out sweeper teams to clear out all the individual indies in the area. I’ll have the CommTech send you the feed with their locations pinpointed. Also, there are three concentrations of indies that are problematic. Send attack flights in to clear the way at dawn, followed by a platoon to mop up any survivors. I don’t want any indies in the area after tomorrow.”

  “Understood, sir. It will be done.”

  * * * *

  Chrissy couldn’t wait to spread the news. Soon the whole community was abuzz with the idea of having a wedding, one of the few good things to have come out of the whole apocalypse.

  The men got together to commiserate with the doomed man and tell bawdy jokes.

  The women gathered to strategize when and where the wedding would be held, what Chrissy should wear, who would do her hair, and so on, well into the evening. Even Amanda wanted to get involved.

  “Can I be the flower girl? I wanna be the flower girl!”

  “Why, I think that’s an excellent idea, Amanda. You’ll be the cutest flower girl, ever! We’ll put flowers in your hair and everything.”

  After much debate over a spring wedding versus summer, Chrissy put her foot down. “I’m not waiting until summer. I want it now! Life’s too short to wait.”

  So they settled on five days hence, which would give everyone time to decorate the gazebo, where the ceremony would be performed.

  When the gathering finally broke up, Chrissy carried the sleeping Amanda up to her room, and went to bed smiling, knowing that the best was yet to come.

  * * * *

  Daniels, despite a short night’s sleep, awoke before dawn and went outside to stretch his legs. It was chilly, but not terribly cold. The last few days had been unseasonably warm, so the ground still gave off some residual heat. When combined with the chill, damp air, it produced a light fog, barely felt, a faint mist that he’d always thought of as being brushed by angel wings. Almost imperceptible.

  The neighborhood was coming along nicely. The houses and yards showed pride of ownership. The residents had gotten paint from the hardware store to spruce up their homes, and started mowing and weeding. They also located a tow truck and hauled the abandoned cars elsewhere. Now Oak Street looked much like many other moderately affluent neighborhoods had before the plague.

  As he walked along the street, he thought about his life. All the subtle twists and turns that inevitably, or fortuitously, led to this moment. If not for his penchant for getting
into fights as a teen, the judge wouldn’t have given him an ultimatum: join the military or go to jail. If not for his choice to become a Marine, he wouldn’t have been stationed in this part of the country before being deployed to Afghanistan. When he was discharged, it made perfect sense to return to the area. If not for the Zompocalypse, he probably never would have met Chrissy, and might have died a lonely old man.

  Instead, he was about to get married, and soon, perhaps, become a father.

  Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it.

  * * * *

  Dawn broke on a gloomy, overcast day, with occasional sprinkles. Attack Flight 2 came in low above the treetops. As it crossed the river, the leader called in.

  “Control, this is Flight 2 Leader. Approaching target. Sensors indicate strong electrical activity moving in. Should we proceed or wait out the storm?”

  “Acknowledged, Leader 2. You should have plenty of time before the storm reaches the vicinity. Orders confirmed. Seek and eliminate.”

  “Acknowledged, Control.”

  The ships slowed to minimum speed, the better to strafe ground targets with.

  “Attack Flight 2 going in.”

  * * * *

  Daniels heard the buzzing that he associated with alien equipment. That was a familiar sound, given all the overflights of the area by the aliens. But this was different. Much louder. As if they were just—

  And then they appeared through the mist over the trees.

  Traveling much slower than a human fighter jet would, they still moved briskly. The three ships each targeted different houses as they raced overhead. Before Daniels could do more than stop in his tracks, a green beam of light licked each house. They exploded one by one, but without any fire. The ships passed overhead one more time on the way back, making sure each house had been hit. The top floor of the mansion blew and the structure simply collapsed on itself.