The Essential Max Brooks: The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z
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1987 A.D., KHOTAN, CHINA
In March 1987, Chinese dissident groups informed the West of a near disaster at the nuclear power plant in Xinjiang. After several months of denying the story, the Chinese government officially announced that there had been a “malfunction” at the facility. Within a month, the story had been changed to “attempted acts of sabotage . . . by counter-revolutionary terrorists.” In August, Tycka!, a Swedish newspaper, published a story that a U.S. spy satellite over Khotan had photographed tanks and other armored vehicles firing point-blank into what appeared to be disorganized mobs of civilians who were attempting to enter the power plant. More photographs revealed that some of the “civilians” surrounding certain individuals were tearing them to pieces and feeding on their corpses. The U.S. government denies that its satellite produced such images, and Tycka! has retracted the story. If Khotan were a zombie outbreak, then more questions exist than answers. How did the outbreak start? What was the duration? How was it eventually contained? How many zombies were involved? Did they actually enter the plant? How much damage was done? Why was there not a meltdown on the scale of Chernobyl? Did any zombies escape? Have there been attacks since then? One piece of information that gives credence to the story of the outbreak comes from Professor Kwang Zhou, a Chinese dissident who has since defected to the United States. Kwang knew one soldier involved in the incident. Before being sent to a reeducation camp with all other witnesses, the young man stated that the code name for the operation was “Eternal Waking Nightmare.” One question still remains, how did this initial outbreak start? After reading David Shore’s book, specifically the section on how a Black Dragon zombie was captured by Chinese Communist troops, it is logical to theorize that the Chinese government had, or still has, its own version of “Cherry Blossom” and “Sturgeon,” its own project to create an army of undead.
DEC. 1992 A.D., JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL MONUMENT, CALIFORNIA
Several hikers and day-trippers to this desert park reported an abandoned tent and gear just off the main road. Park rangers investigating the reports discovered a gruesome scene a mile and a half from the abandoned camp sight. A woman in her mid-twenties was found dead, her head caved in by a large rock and her body covered with human bite marks. A further investigation by the local and state police identified the victim as Sharon Parsons from Oxnard, California. She and her boyfriend, Patrick MacDonald, had been camping in the park the previous week. An all points bulletin was immediately put out on MacDonald. A full autopsy of Parsons revealed a fact that startled the attending coroner. Her body’s rate of decomposition did not match that of her brain tissue. Furthermore, her esophagus contained traces of human flesh that matched MacDonald’s recorded blood type. However, skin samples from under her nails matched a third party, Devin Martin, a loner and wildlife photographer who had bicycled through the park a month earlier. As he had few friends, no family, and worked freelance, Martin’s disappearance was never filed. A full search of the park revealed nothing. A surveillance video from a gas station in Diamond Bar revealed that MacDonald had stopped there briefly. The clerk on duty described MacDonald as haggard, frenzied, and holding a bloody cloth over his shoulder. MacDonald was last seen heading west, toward Los Angeles.
JAN. 1993 A.D., DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
An investigation is still underway regarding the earliest phase of this outbreak, including how it initially spread to the immediate area. The outbreak was first detected by a group of youths, members of a street gang known as the V.B.R., or Venice Boardwalk Reds. Their reason for entering this area of the city was to avenge the death of one of their members, murdered by a rival gang known as Los Peros Negros. Around one A.M., they entered a post-industrial, nearly abandoned area where the Peros had their hangout. The first thing they noticed was the lack of homeless people. That area was known for its large shantytown in a local vacant lot. The cardboard boxes, shopping carts, and other various paraphernalia that belonged to these vagrants lay strewn around the street, but there was no sign of the people. Paying little attention to the road, the driver of the Reds’ vehicle accidentally ran over a slow-moving pedestrian. The driver lost control of his El Camino and spun into the side of a building. Before the Reds could repair their damaged vehicle or fully berate their companion for his lack of driving skill, they saw the injured pedestrian move. Despite a broken back, the victim began crawling toward the street gang. One of the Reds raised his 9mm pistol and shot the man through the chest. Not only did this act fail to stop the crawling man, but it sent a soundwave echoing across a several-block radius. The Red fired several more shots, all striking his target, all producing zero results. His last shot entered the figure’s skull, ending its life. The Reds never had time to discover exactly what they had killed. Suddenly they heard a moan that seemed to come from all directions. What they had taken for shadows in streetlights was a crowd of more than forty zombies approaching from all directions.
With their car wrecked, the Reds took off down the street, literally running through the thinnest line of living dead. After several blocks they encountered, ironically, the remaining members of Los Peros Negros, also on foot after their hangout and vehicles had been overrun by the living dead. Forsaking rivalry for survival, the two gangs called a truce and set out in search of either a means of escape or a safe refuge. Although most of the buildings—well-built, windowless warehouses—would have made excellent fortresses, they were either locked or (in the case of the abandoned ones) boarded up and could not be entered. As they knew the turf better, the Peros took the lead and suggested De Soto Junior High, a small school easily within running distance. With the living dead barely minutes away, the two gangs made it to the school and broke in through a second-story window. This set off a burglar alarm which, in turn, alerted every zombie in the immediate area, swelling their ranks to more than a hundred. The alarm, however, was the only negative aspect of this formidable redoubt. In terms of a fortress, De Soto was an excellent choice. Solid concrete construction, barred and mesh-covered windows and steel-covered, solid wood doors made the two-story building easily defensible. Once inside, the group acted with commendable forethought, establishing a secondary fallback, checking all doors and windows for security, filling any receptacles they could with water, and taking stock of their own personal weapons and ammunition. As they believed the police to be a worse enemy than the living dead, both gangs used the phone to call allied street gangs instead of the authorities. None of those contacted believed what they were hearing, but promised to arrive as soon as possible anyway.
This last act was, in another ironic twist, one of the few cases of overkill ever recorded in an undead uprising. Well-protected, well-armed, well-led, well-organized, and extremely well-motivated, the gang members were able to dispatch the living dead from the upstairs windows without losing any of their own. Reinforcements (allied street gangs promising their support) did show up, unfortunately at the same time as the L.A.P.D. The result was the arrest of all those involved.
The incident was officially explained as “a shoot-out between local street gangs.” Both Reds and Peros tried to relay the truth to anyone who would listen. Their story was explained as a delusion brought on by “Ice,” a narcotic popular at that time. As the police and reinforcement gang members had only seen shot corpses and no walking zombies, none could be counted on as actual eyewitnesses. The bodies of the undead were removed and cremated. As almost all of them had been homeless people, none could be identified and none were missed. The original gang members involved were each found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to life at one of several of California’s state prisons. All were murdered within a year of their incarceration, supposedly by rival gang members. This story would have ended there had it not been for an L.A.P.D. detective who has asked to remain nameless. He/she had read about the Parsons-MacDonald case several days before and was intrigued by its bizarre details. This allowed him/her to partially believe the gang members’ stories.
The coroner’s report gave the most compelling argument. It perfectly matched Parsons’ autopsy. The final nail in the coffin was a wallet found on one of the undead, a man in his early thirties who appeared to be better dressed and groomed than the average street vagrant. The wallet belonged to Patrick MacDonald. As the owner had been shot in the face with a twelve-gauge solid slug, there was no way to positively identify him. The anonymous detective knew better than to bring the matter to his/her superiors for fear of disciplinary action. Instead, he/she copied the entire case file and presented it to the author of this book.
FEB. 1993 A.D., EAST LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
At one forty-five A.M. Octavio and Rosa Melgar, the owners of a local carnecería, were awoken by frantic cries beneath their second-story bedroom window. Fearing that their store was being looted, Octavio grabbed his pistol and raced downstairs while Rosa telephoned the police. Crumpled near an open manhole was a quivering, sobbing man, covered in mud, dressed in tattered Department of Sanitation coveralls and bleeding profusely from the mangled stump where his right foot had once been. The man, who never identified himself, shouted repeatedly for Octavio to cover the manhole. Not knowing what else do, Octavio obliged. Before the metal cover slid into position, Octavio thought he heard a sound like distant moaning. As Rosa tied off the wounded man’s leg, he half-whimpered, half-yelled that he and five other sanitation workers were inspecting a storm drain junction when they were attacked by a large group of “crazies.” He described his assailants as being covered in a variety of rags and wounds, groaning rather than speaking, and approaching at a methodical limp. The man’s words trailed off into an unintelligible string of phrases, grunts, and sobs before he slipped into unconsciousness. The police and paramedics arrived ninety minutes later. By this time, the wounded man was pronounced dead. As his body was driven away, the L.A.P.D. officers took statements from the Melgars. Octavio mentioned that he had heard the moaning. The officers noted this but said nothing. Six hours later, the Melgars heard on the morning news that the ambulance carrying the dead man had crashed and exploded on its way to the county hospital. The radio call from the paramedics (how the news station was able to obtain it is still a mystery) consisted mainly of panicked screams about the deceased subject tearing out of his body bag. Forty minutes after the broadcast, four police trucks, an ambulance, and a national guard truck pulled up in front of the Melgar’s carnicería. Octavio and Rosa watched as the area was sealed off by the L.A.P.D. and a large, olive drab green tent was erected over the manhole with an identical passage running from it to the truck. The Melgars, along with a small crowd of onlookers, heard the unmistakable echo of gunfire from the manhole. Within the hour, the tent was struck, the barricade was lifted, and the vehicles quickly departed. There is little doubt that this incident was an aftershock of the downtown Los Angeles attack. Details of the government response, exactly what transpired in that underground labyrinth, may never be known. The Melgars, citing “personal legal reasons,” have not made any further inquiries. The L.A.P.D. has explained the incident as a “routine health and maintenance inspection.” The Los Angeles Department of Sanitation has denied the loss of any of its employees.
MAR. 1994 A.D., SAN PEDRO, CALIFORNIA
If not for Allie Goodwin, a crane operator at this Southern California shipyard, and her twenty-four-frame disposable camera, the world might have never known the true story of this zombie outbreak. An unmarked container was offloaded from the S.S. Mare Caribe, a Panamanian-flagged freighter out of Davao City, the Philippines. For several days it remained in the dockyard, awaiting pickup. One night, a watchman heard sounds emanating from the container. He and several security guards, suspecting it to be crowded with illegal immigrants, immediately opened the container. Forty-six zombies streamed out. Those in close proximity were devoured. Others sought shelter in warehouses, office buildings, and other facilities. Some of these structures provided adequate shelter; others became deathtraps. Four intrepid crane workers, Goodwin among them, climbed into their machines and used them to create an ad-hoc fortress of containers. This prefabricated shelter kept thirteen workers protected for the remainder of the night. The crane operators then used their machines as weapons, dropping containers on any zombie within range. By the time the police arrived (entry to the facility was barred by several locked gates), only eleven zombies remained at large. These were put down by a barrage of gunfire (including some lucky head shots). Total human casualties have been estimated at twenty. Zombie dead numbered thirty-nine. The seven unaccounted for are believed to have fallen into the water and been taken out to sea by the current.
All news stories filed claimed the incident was an attempted break-in. No government statements, on any level, were made. Dockyard management, the San Pedro Police—even the private security company that lost eight of its guards—have remained silent. The Mare Caribe’s crew, her captain, and even the company itself deny any knowledge of the original container, which has also mysteriously vanished. The port itself coincidentally caught fire the day after the attack. What makes this cover-up so incredible is that San Pedro is a large, busy port situated in one of the most heavily populated areas in the United States. How the government was able to suppress almost all sources of information is truly astounding. Goodwin’s photos and statement have been branded a hoax by all parties involved. She was dismissed from her job on the grounds of psychological incompetence.
APR. 1994 A.D., SANTA MONICA BAY, CALIFORNIA
Three Palos Verdes residents, Jim Hwang, Anthony Cho, and Michael Kim, reported to police that they were attacked while fishing in the bay. The three men swore that Hwang had been bottom fishing when his line hooked a large, extremely heavy catch. What broke the surface was a man, naked, partially burned, partially decomposed, and still alive. The man attacked the three fishermen, grabbing Hwang and attempting to bite him on the neck. Cho pulled his friend back and Kim smashed the creature in the face with an oar. The attacker sank beneath the surface while the three fishermen headed for shore. All three were immediately subject to drug and alcohol tests by the Palos Verdes Police Department (tests that revealed no traces of either), held overnight for questioning, and released the next morning. The case is still officially “under investigation.” Given the time and place of the attack, it is logical to assume that the creature was one of the original San Pedro outbreak zombies.
1996 A.D., THE LINE OF CONTROL, SRINAGAR, INDIA
This excerpt was taken from a post action report by Lieutenant Tagore of the Border Security Force:
The subject approached at a slow stagger, as if ill or intoxicated. [Through binoculars] I could observe that he wore the full uniform of the Pakistan Rangers, odd since none were reported to be operating in this zone. At three hundred meters we ordered the subject to halt and identify himself. He would not comply. A second warning was given. Still no reply. He seemed to be moaning incoherently. At the sound of our calls his pace increased slightly. At two hundred meters he tripped the first mine, an American “Bouncing Betty.” We observed the subject receiving shrapnel wounds to his upper and lower torso. He stumbled, fell on his face, then regained his footing and continued forward. . . . I deduced he wore some type of body armor. . . . This action occurred again at one hundred and fifty meters. This time the shrapnel tore the subject’s jaw from his face. . . . At this range I could observe that the wound did not bleed. . . . The wind shifted in our direction. . . . We detected a putrid odor from the subject similar to decomposing meat. At one hundred meters I ordered Private Tilak [platoon sniper] to dispatch the subject. Tilak placed a direct shot through the subject’s forehead. The subject dropped immediately. He did not rise, nor make any further movement.
Subsequent reports document the recovery and initial autopsy of the body at the military hospital in Srinagar. Shortly thereafter the body was removed by the National Security Guard. No subsequent information has been released regarding their findings.
1998 A.D., ZABROVST, SIBERIA
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Jacob Tailor, an acclaimed documentary filmmaker for the Canadian Broadcast Company, arrived in the small Siberian town of Zabrovst with the intention of photographing an intact, and potentially cloneable, saber-toothed tiger carcass. The body of a man in his late twenties, whose clothing matched that of a sixteenth-century cossack, had also been found. The shoot was due to take place in July, but Tailor arrived with an advance team in February to familiarize himself with the area and his subjects. Tailor believed the human corpse would not be the subject of more than a few seconds in his film, but asked that it be stored with the tiger’s until his return. Tailor and his crew then returned to Toronto for a much needed rest. On June 14 a few members of Tailor’s crew returned to Zabrovst to prepare their frozen subjects and the dig site for filming. That was the last time they were heard from.