All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse

by Various Authors

  ***

  Marx was introduced to the medical staff in the research lab, based on the extensive research he put into the study of the infected and the development of protective gear and handling of them. It was a team of faces and names he was forgetting no sooner than the next was announced. The only one that stuck was the last one. Jay Dare. He had a cool sounding name and everyone always called him by his whole name as if it were a nickname, Jay Dare. He stood six feet tall, with strawberry blonde hair cut low, thick rim glasses and big blue eyes. He stood out back, a cigarette between his lips.

  Dr. Barker handed Marx off to Jay who was the Director of Rehabilitation relations, and Marx was to shadow him on his shift. Jay extinguished the tobacco and came inside.

  “Sometimes I wonder how all this actually came to be.” Marx looked around at everything in his new work environment.

  “They don't tell you the history of it in your colony?” Jay asked.

  “Well, yes and no, we know many things have been left out of our education.”

  “Well basically in the year 2020, someone dropped a dirty bomb on a third world country where they didn't look like us, they didn't live like us and didn't pray like us, so nobody cared, didn't even notice until some poor fella from doctors without borders made like a carrier pigeon and delivered Necrosis- V to a hundred- million Americans in record time.” Jay pushed his glasses up on his nose.

  “My crazy Uncle Roman had been prepping for a zompoc since before my father was even born. Back in 2010 there was no Pope, unless you're talking about the one from the Vatican. There was just a man and his cult. Uncle Roman was a pastor at a local church in Utah; He had an underground bunker with animals, electricity and running water completely off the grid. He and his little commune of followers had fully functioning society years before the dark decade began.”

  “I suppose he taught you guys to talk like that for shits and giggles huh?” Jay looked a bit smug.

  “It was not my Uncle alone who felt it would be best to move to a more civilized manner of speaking, it is one of the few things I've agreed with.” Marx matched his smugness.

  “And so the Ryder colony was born. I dig it.” Jay mused. “I've heard so much about your dad's work, I have to say I'm a fan.”

  Marx wondered how it was that he even knew of his father's work when Ryder new nothing of The Mountain, or maybe that was just what seemed to be. Marx thanked him for the compliment.

  “Let me show you some of what we're working on here.” Jay led him to their van and drove him out to a lesser populated portion of the base camp. There were a lot of silos out there and Jay pulled up in front of one of them. “We call this the body warehouse.” Jay dialed in a code to open the heavy steel door, a rush of cool air greeted them as they entered and it reminded Marx of the catacombs.

  “Body warehouse?” Marx echoed as he followed Jay through rows of stacked freezers liken to those one may find in a morgue.

  “These are our Rehabilitated individuals; Dr. Barker likes to call them our Miracles.” Jay Dare laughed.

  Marx peeped through the slot in the steel door. There was a series of cell-like holding pens, the rehabilitated were inside. They still smelled like ghost, but the rot wasn't as thick, it didn't cling to the back of your throat like with the ones in the wild. Some of them stood dormant while others moved about, busying themselves with various small tasks, like ball rolling and messy finger painting.

  “They can see?” Marx asked surprised.

  “Some have regained the use of their sight, most haven't yet.”

  “This is regeneration; it appears this vaccine is a cure for death itself.”

  “It reacts different in just about everyone; it's too early to tell right now.” Jay Dare pushed his glasses up on his nose. 'For every one of these successes there's been fifty losses. We do have a few that have made remarkable recoveries; we don't keep them in here. Come.” Jay opened the door for Marx to follow him out.

  On the outermost edge of the Elbert medical research facility was what looked in every way to be high rise condominiums. Marx had seen high rises before in the wild, Ryder lost more than a few good men attempting to clear them out.

  This portion of the building stacked some twenty stories high and was actually connected to the mountain by a massive bridge. Marx had seen the streamline balconies from the window of his modest third floor apartment, but he hadn't laid eyes on that spectacular bridge until that moment. Looking through the walls in the glass elevator, upon closer examination the mammoth construction of wood and rope had fallen into disrepair, it seemed to disappear into the fog before reaching the other side. Looking down he felt the need to stay near the wall. Marx knew there was no way he could fall, but it was simply a reaction to being up so high. When the doors opened Marx exited quickly.

  “Not a big fan of heights I see.” Jay mused.

  “I've never been this far above ground before, it's a bit off-putting.” Marx allowed Jay to walk ahead so that he may follow. Jay opened the unassuming white wooden door at the halls end, Marx prepared himself for what may be seen and smelled, but upon entry all seemed as normal as could be.

  There was no smell of rot, just a slight antibacterial, antiseptic scent that was synonymous with hospitals. There was a comfy looking, oversized sectional sofa in the middle of the room all covered in decorative pillows. Across from it was what appeared to be a large ornate framed mirror that acted as a television, before it, a young Asian girl sat on the floor playing a video game. It was a simple circle that opened like a mouth working its way through a maze, eating balls as it moved. Marx felt an eating game was a peculiar choice.

  The girl sat on the floor with her legs crossed, her long black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She looked to be age twelve or so, she wore jean cut-offs a pink t-shirt and sparkly pink sneakers to match.

  “This is Wik,” Jay introduced her like a proud parent. “She's around thirteen and is our resident gamer. Wik , can you stop playing for a second and say “Hi” to our guest.” She paused the game and turned around, she was wearing thick glasses, and she smiled at him with a quick wave. Wik's teeth were gone, but she looked quite happy.

  “Hello Wik.” Marx returned her smile as she made a deep moaning noise like a deaf person might make.

  “Can she not speak?” Marx asked.

  “No, they haven't quite grasped speech yet, but we've been working on it regularly, there’s no reason they shouldn't be able to do it.”

  And without warning, the child made a break for Marx, swiftly and forcefully wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her plump cheek against his chest. Marx fought the urge to throw her away from him and was glad he had. It was the most amazing feeling to have this child who had been roaming the streets feeding on the flesh of the living only a short time ago, now there she was hugging him and smiling. He thought of Emery who had been bit the same day his mother lost her life in the Catacombs, he was living the life of any ordinary child on base camp. Marx thought of his mother Millie, was there hope for her still if he could go back and find her?, he wondered what quality of life she would have to look forward to with her injuries. He wondered if that is what she would want and how much she would be able to recover.

  Jay smiled as Marx wrapped his arms around Wik.

  “They are miracles.”

  Wik followed them as Jay led Marx down the hall and to one of two bedrooms. He opened the door but a crack and allowed Marx to peek in at a man lying in the bed bandaged from head to toe. Classical music played softly at his bedside from a night stand filled with flowers, cards and balloons.

  “This is Farouk Gupta,” Jay whispered. “His skin is restoring itself and his brain is in excellent condition. He told us he was a doctor and we're really hoping--”

  “He spoke to you?” Marx cut in brimming with excitement.

  “No, he can't speak yet, but he can write, that's how he communicates with us.” Jay seemed sincerely pleased about the interest Ma
rx was showing in his work. “Let's go see the last one.”

  They left Wik to her games and headed across the hall to another condo. This time he knocked on the door instead of letting himself in.

  “Come in.” a woman's voice called from beyond the door. Adrenaline raced Marx's heart, and anticipation.

  She sat in a bean bag chair with a book at her side and a plate of cheese and grapes. Her space wasn't the cushy din of comfort that the other condo was, her's was more of a salute to the arts. Hardwood floors and a mirrored wall with a ballet bar and a radio. She had a sculpture of a man emerging from a stone in the corner and some black and white photography on the walls.

  “This is Vivian; she's our resident success story.” She was the statuesque dark skinned woman with the massive hair he'd seen the other day, there was no mistaking it. She had full lips, high cheekbones and wide brown eyes. She reminded him of photos of African villagers he'd seen in an old National Geographic book in History class. She was even more pleasant looking up close. Marx studied her face; there was no sign that death had ever touched her. She smelled magnificent, like fresh strawberries and cream, certainly nothing like the sour, rotten stench he'd become accustom to with Nec-V's. She was fully alert and breathing, she even held a grape, which she popped in her mouth and chewed before extending her hand to Marx. He took it in his gently and shook it.

  “Pleased to meet you.” she smiled, her teeth were perfect. But there it was, her eyes were as vacant as his own. The first sign of a kind of death.

  “The pleasure is mine miss.” he responded, his heart picking up pace. What must it be like to be her? Dead then alive again.”

  “I'm sorry for you.” she said quietly. Marx wasn't sure he even heard her speak.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You must have drawn the short straw, huh? To end up with me.”

  “Vivian, Mr. Ryder has volunteered to be your guardian for the next few weeks, no one forced his hand.” Jay lied, but Marx played along.

  “Then you're not a very smart man Mr. Ryder.” Vivian tilted her head to the side, the dead-eyed smile creeping across her face again. Marx knew there was a very real possibility she may try and kill him, an idea to which he found himself strangely indifferent.

  “Vivian!” Jay snapped as she stood up and walked out of the room. “I'm sorry, she's just sixteen and she can be a real brat sometimes, but she's my brat, so take good care of her will ya?”

  “Aye, you have my word.”

  Caring for Vivian proved to be no easy task, she was friendly one moment and stand-offish the next, she would get him to smoke her cigarettes and laugh when he choked on them, then share the list of all the things she'd never done but wanted to. She would sometimes glare at him when he brought her lunch which he was charged with by Dr. Barker to allow her to slowly get use to him. Marx rolled with the punches, Vivian's growing pains couldn't shake his renewed hope that his mother could be brought to the mountain to experience this miracle and they could be a real family. There was only one thing that could ruin that.

  ***

  Marx enlisted Sanchez and Axle to sit before the medical board of directors and Military officials with him to pitch his plan to go back to Ryder and collect Millie Ryder from the catacombs along with as many others they felt they may be able to save. It was a respect that he was afforded due to his hard work on the cooling suit technology, but in spite of all that it was met with a resounding “No.”

  “Even if we weren't risking going to war with the largest, most powerful Colony in the U.S., assuming we could find her in the needle stack of ghosts in the sub-basement of said colony, Marx, your mother's been dead for more than a month, the results of her recovery would be unstable at best.” The head of the board shook her head.

  “The Pope keeps the catacombs at a controlled temperature for maximum preservation; she is likely to be in as good of condition as any of your specimens.” Marx responded.

  “A move like that would be a sure declaration of war.” one of the Military officials said to the councilwoman. “And there's no guarantee that we'll find her, we're talking major casualties here.” Marx glared across the long mahogany table at the gray haired man with tears in his eyes. He knew there was going to be nothing that Sanchez could say, because they were right. Putting all those lives at risk for a dead stranger wasn't the way, even if there was a guaranteed success at the end of it.

  Marx had been crushed all over again. Axle looked on him with pity as did they all.

  “I'm very sorry for your loss Mr. Ryder, but surely you can see that this just can't be done.” The Councilwoman said, her voice heavy with remorse. Marx nodded, his face hardened.

  As Marx lay resting to recover from the mornings pitfalls, he had resolved himself in a solid decision; he wasn't to be long for this world. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it, but it would be done. The only thing that troubled him was the thought of leaving Emery with absolutely no one.

  Marx collected himself enough to be of some use to someone in the time being. He gathered himself and showed up on time to deliver hot lunch to Vivian.. So consumed by his thoughts was he that he let himself in without even knocking. She was walking through her living room with a book in hand her silk robe open and exposing her hairless naked body. Vivian dropped her book, closed her robe and shot him daggers with her eyes.

  “What the fuck Marx!” she snapped. He didn't feel like responding and he wondered why in the world he had even showed up at all. He sat the food down on her brown granite kitchen counter and began fishing a plate from the cabinet. Vivian's dark skin glistened with beads of water and she wiped herself with a white towel. They made eye contact briefly before he sat the cutlery on the counter next to the food and started to walk away.

  “So you’re just going to leave now?” Vivian called her brow furrowed. Marks rolled his eyes and breathed deeply.

  “You've no need of a nurse maid, you're a big girl.” his tone was low and lifeless.

  “But what if I try to kill myself.” She pulled up the silver knife and held it to her wrist.

  “I care not.” he watched her usual lifeless brown eyes catch fire. Enraged she lunged at him pressing the point of the knife to his chest with such pressure it pierced his shirt. Marx grabbed her hand and held it firm in position.

  “Do it.” he hissed.

  She looked surprised and he could feel her trying to pull back, but he wouldn't release her. He forced her hand to push the point of the blade into his chest, a trickle of blood spreading over his white t-shirt. Vivian gasped and yanked her arm away; the knife fell to the floor between them.

  “Fuck off then.” he growled and walked out.

  ***

  Axle made sure dinner was on the table for Emery and Marx was certain he was the best person for the boy, they seemed to be getting closer over the past few weeks, and even though the idea of that kid suffering yet another loss killed him inside, Marx knew he was in no condition to care for anyone. He had failed at everything and he wasn't bound to subject another innocent human being to his devastating failures and emotional instability. Marx wasn't sure if he was going to make his exit that night, but he knew he needed someplace quiet to consider it.

  When Marx got to the old rope bridge it was already occupied. Vivian sat on the ledge with her legs dangling over and breathed in the fresh mountain air. He was shocked to see her out of her condo.

  “What are you doing out?”

  “I have my ways.” She lit a cigarette and patted the wood beside her. “Have a seat.” she offered and he accepted scooting in next to her.

  “I've been thinking about it and I know why you're not scared of me.” she said. “Because you don't care about dying, every other person who's been unlucky enough to have to babysit me has been scared shitless I'd turn on them. Always jumping, always watching, but you've been cool as a cucumber. I couldn't figure it out at first, but now I know you never cared if I turned because you think you want me to kill
you.”

  “I simply fear nothing miss, that is all there is.”

  “Have you ever asked yourself why you simply fear nothing? You colonist talk so weird,” she chuckled “I like it though, it reminds me of an old movie.”

  “Old movie.” he huffed. “I’m glad you approve, but it is your speech that is old and odd to me.” she passed him her tobacco and he inhaled it, this time without choking. “What was it like?” he passed it back to her. Her eyes seemed to dim a little more at the thought of it. She shook her head.

  “It was like floating in outer space, like you're nothing and everything is nothing, you can't see or hear or speak, or even think really. Until you feel the warmth, that's when you realize it was cold and you can sense it moving so you move toward it like a moth to the flame because until that moment you were nothing, now you can feel yourself walking, and at least that's something,” she stared off into the distance. “At some point you become aware of the others, you bump them and walk with them and you know they're feeling the same excitement you are. And then you catch it.” she lowered her head.

  Marx couldn't help but think of his mother as she described it. Her last expression burned in his mind. He had to know.

  “How does it feel when you catch it?” She looked pained shaking her head again.

  “Marx, c'mon.”

  “It's alright, I want to know.” Vivian swallowed hard.

  “It's like, love. It's warm and soft and it makes you feel... It makes you feel. You want to be a part of it, you want it inside you, you need it, it's instinctive. You can't taste it you just put it in because it feels so good. And then it cools and without warning everything fades away.”

  “You should be afraid of me Marx.”

  “Why?”

  “Whatever moved this body in life is not what moves it now, I don't have a single memory of life before I died.” She dropped what remained of her tobacco down and it disappeared into the seemingly bottomless void of blackness below. “My first memory is of murdering someone,” she turned to Marx.