“Jesus H. Christ! What the hell is that?!” I say. I look back at Mrs. Sanders. She’s got a disgusted look on her face. She tries to speak, but instead she collapses. I catch her just before she hits the floor.
Then the stink gets me.
PART TWO
THE YELLOW STINK
Every inch of their decomposing bodies fascinates me to no end. How can such a diminutive amount of vapor cause so much devastation? I’ve been studying science for over forty years now and never before have I seen such a fantastic disease! Of course, when I say fantastic I mean for it to be taken as unbelievable or outrageous, not wonderful. No, this is far from wonderful.
Zombilictirubitosis, or more commonly referred to as ZobmiPox or Z-Pox is a very rare disease caused by zanthous noisomeness, or The Yellow Stink. The Yellow Stink is released from the body of a three-year-old western whip snake when any part of its head or body has been severed. The Yellow Stink instantly leaks through the wound and into the surrounding air, filling the lungs of their predators, paralyzing them instantaneously, and causing a slow deterioration of the host’s internal and external organs. The bodies of the infected literally lay and rot for months, maybe even years! We are still not certain of the full capability of this disease, as our subjects are the only two known to have ever come into contact with zanthos noisomeness. We learn something new about the disease every day.
The female subject is especially rare, because not only does she have Zombilictirubitosis, but she is also eight months pregnant – three of those months while infected. So far, we have not detected any abnormalities with the child, a male, while in utero – which, of course, is wonderful news. We plan to deliver the baby via cesarean section on October 29.
PART THREE
THE YELLOW STINK BOMB
“Hey, baby!” shouted Diana excitedly.
“Shhh! Are you trying to get me fired?” I look back over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard her squealin’.
“Diana, now I told you about this. I can’t be sneakin’ you in here if you ain’t quiet! These scientists here all have bugs up they asses. They won’t letcha get by with nothin’.” I spit out my wad of chewin’ tobacco into my hand and toss it outside just before lockin’ the back door. “Now, didja remember to bring it?”
Diana smiles and nods her head. She holds up her purse and pulls out a small camcorder.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, honey!” I say. Diana bounces up and down with excitement and makes a strange gigglin’ noise. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with her. She’s a goddamn dingbat. But she’s the only girl I know who owns a video camera and there ain’t no way in hell I wasn’t gonna get this on tape. This recordin’ is gonna make me a goddamn millionaire!
“C’mere, I’ll show you where they keep the things.” I say, wavin’ my hand toward the end of the hallway. “Be prepared, they smell like rotten ape shit. You can smell ‘em through the walls.”
Diana pinches her nose.
I take her down to the lower level. The smell of rotting human flesh hangs in the air. It doesn’t bother me so much anymore - I believe I’ve grown accustomed to it. Diana, on the other hand, begins to gag.
“Here, take this…” I dig out a red handkerchief from my back pocket and hand it to her. “Put it over yer nose and yer mouth.”
I look around down each end of the hallway, making sure no one is watchin’. I pull out my ring of keys and unlock a door that leads to another hallway. This hallway is dark. The only light comes from a window down toward the opposite end. The window looks into a room where the two zombies are kept.
Voices echo down through the hall. Diana is scared shitless – her grip on my forearm tightens.
“Here, gimme that there vidya camera” I say. She digs it out of her purse and hands it over. I turn the power on and pop off the lens cap. “You ain’t never seen any shit like this ‘fore!”
A little red light flashes in the corner of the video screen” (LOW BATTERY).
“Goddamnit, Diana! The batt’ry is dead!”
She ain’t listenin’. She’s too busy trying to sneak a peek at the zombies on the other side of the glass. I tap her on the shoulder.
“Hey, you didn’t charge the damn thing? Do you know how much you just cost me?!”
She glances back and shrugs her shoulders as if to say ‘what’s the big deal’.
“Do you know what they’re doin’ in there, Diana?” She shakes her head. “They’re about t’deliver the first ever zombie baby! I was gonna sell this here tape to CNN. Make millions! But now, that’s all shot to hell!”
She dismisses my complaints and goes back to starin’. A baby’s wail echoes down through the hall. And then an idea starts vibratin’ in my skull. My eyes widen. I’m a’gonna steal this baby!
I burst into the room. A couple of white coats start hollerin’, sayin’ I’m tresspassin’. I grab the baby from the doctor who is suctionin’ him out and run like hell for the door!
The white coats come a’followin’.
I burst through the door. Diana slams herself against the wall to avoid being trampled by the hurdling stampede blazin’ in her direction. The baby is screamin’, terrified by its first visions of life. I try to bounce him in my arms, you know, t’try an’ soothe him, as I dash up the staircase and down through the halls, makin’ my way to the outside world. All I need is to get him outside and I’ll be famous! Rich!
I glance behind me. Only two of the white coats are in good enough shape to keep up with my pace. The double doors that lead to the outside world are in my sight. I run faster! Harder!
I stiff-arm the doors, they fly open wide and suddenly I stumble over the concrete stairs that lead down to town square. The baby goes a’flyin’ through the air. The white coats stop and put their hands over their mouths in horror. A couple sittin’ on a park bench see the baby and scream with fright.
Everyone outside freezes. And even though it all seems to be happenin’ in slow motion, it’s quite apparent he can’t be saved.
The baby hits the pavement with a sickening smack. Immediately, its body explodes. A giant cloud of yellow smoke fills the air instantly, coverin’ the entire town.
PART FOUR
BOXING HONEYVILLE
I remember the fool who stole the infected child very well. His name was Stanley Cramm. He worked in our building for something like two years prior to the incident. He was never too bright of a lad. I even felt somewhat sorry for him at times. He came from a poor family who all seemed to be good-hearted people. We all used to attend the same church.
Everyone in town was instantly infected by the disease – everyone except for a handful of doctors and scientists, such as myself. While we were delivering the child, we all took the proper precautions in protecting our bodies. None of us were really sure exactly what we’d be dealing with that day, so all of us were wearing gas masks and protective clothing at the time of the explosion.
Since the day of the incident, a strange series of events has occurred.
Within hours, Honeyville was completely surrounded by government vehicles – large black vans, to be precise. The backs of these vehicles opened, unmanned, and hoards of humanoid robots climbed out onto the pavement.
I made my way over to the vehicles, but was quickly approached by one of the androids.
“Stand back!” it commanded. I stopped in my tracks.
“Please, I am not one of the infected!”
But it did not listen to my plea - instead it shot a taser out from its fingertips. Its claws sunk deep into my chest and I was quickly floored by the sudden surge of electricity racing throughout my body.
The robots continued to pile out of the vans, some of them were dragging large burlap sacks behind them. I would later find out that these sacks were filled with building materials, for they were planning to build a wall around the city.
Over the next few weeks, I had noticed that not only were the GovBots (what the androids prefer to
be called) here in Honeyville to erect a wall to cage the city, but they were also here to harvest.
Harvest what? I was not sure. But over time, I found ways to get them to talk. It turns out that GovBots are quite fond of table salt – they cannot taste it, but they sure enjoy the gritty crunch it provides as they chew it in their large metal mouths.
For 12 packets of table salt and a 2lb bag of rock salt, I was able to get the following information regarding the tree crops:
A – They were not harvesting any tree crops. Instead, they were growing giant blood-sucking spiders.
B – These spiders were to be used to such the venom from the infected via the host’s skull.
C – Until 100% recovery, Honeyville would be quarantined from the rest of the world.
I reiterated this news to my colleagues back at the lab. We were concerned mainly with the capabilities of these spiders. We had a gut-feeling that these spiders were more of a government experiment rather than a full-proof healing plan. Why else would they build a wall around the city unless if there was some chance of error?
We quickly went to work.
In the next few weeks, we were able to invent a device that plugs directly into the brain of the spider’s host. It allows the host to suck the life-force from its parasite. So, in this case, once the spider attaches itself to the infected, the host would now be able to suck the energy from the spider and use it to operate his or her own body, rendering the spiders body nearly completely useless.
We’ve spent the last few days implanting the devices into the skulls of the ‘living corpses’ that were lying about the town.
Now we must wait for the eggs to hatch.
PART FIVE
BOGGS’ LOG
Thursday – December 7th
The egg sacks are noticeably larger. Darker grey. They hang from the trees like the scrotum of God. It isn’t very cold outside. Global warming? Nah, probably just the great wall – it keeps most of the winds away these days. The wall is almost finished now. It could be beautiful if only our artists were able to perform, to bleed their love and their hate over this god-forsaken wall. But they are gone. They are all gone. I should have been an artist. I always wanted to be, but I was never any good at it. Science, though… I was always good at science. But, I never should have taken this job. Dr. Potts says that it is up to us to ensure the resurrection of Honeyville. All this jazz is really making my skin crawl. I mean, I’m not even technically a doctor, yet, just an intern. That’s why they have me out here taking notes while they are all inside creating. Notes… oh, right. One of God’s testes is twitching.
Friday – December 8th
No change. However, I’ve noticed several GovBots injecting a bright blue serum into the heart of the sacks. Hopefully it is to quicken the hatching process. It is starting to get a little cold now. I wish I had a warmer coat.
(NOTE: IT WAS LATER DISCOVERED THAT THE BLUE SERUM WAS NOT INJECTED TO SPEED UP THE HATCHING PROCESS, BUT INSTEAD WAS A CHEMICAL USED TO GROW THE SPIDERS TO THEIR ABNORMALLY LARGE SIZE – SIGNED, DR. WILLIAM CORNELIUS POTTS)
Sunday – December 10th
Unusual pale yellow ‘vines’ have sprouted out from the egg sacks, some as long as 20 feet! This is highly unusual, as these sprouts were not visible from my post last night. I suspect that the spiders will be hatching soon. I’m so hungry. Staring at these hairy egg sacks for the last few days, I wonder how that is even possible.
Monday – December 11th
Early this morning ten of the egg sacks hatched – each sack containing at least seven arachnids a piece. There are still about ninety more sacks that are in my field of sight that have yet to hatch. The spiders are huge! Their bodies are easily the size of a human head! The spiders all seem to be brooding up in the treetops… well, for now at least.
Tuesday – December 12th
Hundreds of helicopters are now hovering above Honeyville. They are hauling a large cement vault top – the final piece of our tomb. More spiders have hatched. It seems that the GovBots have completed construction on the great wall. There’s a group of them gathering at the top of the western wall. They are all holding large metal rods with a rope loop tied at the ends. They are lassoing the trees and shaking them vigorously. The spiders begin to drop. It’s getting darker – the top to the vault has nearly been put into place! Minutes later, our city, our coffin, is finally sealed. Buried alive. I must return to the lab.
Signing off,
Gina Boggs
PART SIX
THE SPIDERS OF HONEYVILLE
Nom. Nom. Nom.
Hungry. Shake.
Vomit. Fucking. Winter. Shake.
Can’t. Control. Body. Shake.
Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake.
Must. Find. Food.
Shake.
PART SEVEN
THE UNFORTUNATE SPIDER-MEN
It has been a week since the spiders have dropped and taken their posts atop their host’s craniums, digging their fangs deep into their brains. The life-force thieving devices that we installed earlier regrettably do not work as well as we had originally intended. The spider-men are no doubt extraordinary beings with extraordinary powers, but sadly they lack the mental capacity to put those powers to greater use. The spider-men are nothing more than walking, decomposing humans with the mindset of an arachnid.
The spider-men are capable of producing silk web – albeit through the body of the giant spiders attached to their heads instead of their own – but since the spider itself can no longer move its limbs (because of the life-force thieving devices) the web tends to stream down the host’s backside and clump on the ground below. The spider-men like to pick up these clumps and throw them at each other as they are excreted - kind of like pillow fighting, but with balls of web. It has become quite a popular sport. It certainly seems to make them happy.
If agitated, the spider-men defensively bite their agitators, just like a normal house spider would. The problem with this is that the fangs that they use to bite their predators with are the human set. The human teeth do not expel poison, therefore their bites are hardly ever effective in keeping away enemies. Another problem with this is that when the human bites down on its victim, the spider involuntarily injects their human host with venom, therefore resulting in the body of the host quickly losing consciousness. This happens more often than one would think.
We have been trying to tweak the devices that we had implanted into the infected’s skulls, but to no avail. With dwindling supplies and resources, there is honestly nothing more that we can do.
So now, we dig.
PART EIGHT
BOGGS’ LOG
Tuesday – January 9th
I think I am beginning to get a bit of cabin fever. My mind has been so focused on the coming of the spiders that I never really ever let it sink in. We are trapped. No phone, no TV, no radio – nothing! Telephone lines have been severed by the vault and satellite signals cannot penetrate through the thick cement walls of our tomb. Dr. Potts has been a bit on edge lately. He expected more from the life-force thieving devices. He expected the infected to be fully functioning human beings. I think he was secretly planning to use those men to tear down these walls. I wonder who is on ‘The Late Show’ tonight?
Monday – January 15th
We’ve been spending the last week doing nothing but digging. Dr. Potts says it is the only way we are ever going to get out of here. He has been trying to teach the spider-men to dig, but with little or no success. Most of them just stare into space as Dr. Potts speaks to them. Some vomit. Others see him as a threat and try to bite him. Most of them are beginning to regain consciousness. I haven’t told the others about this, but I have recently acquired a 4” black and white handheld television that can pick up channels via antennae. I have been sneaking down in the hole late at night watching all my favorite comedy talk shows. It is the only place that I can get any reception and even then I have to angle the antennae just right for the picture to co
me through. I am going to sign off for now, Letterman is about to come on.
Wednesday – January 17th
I’ve been found out. I fell asleep in the hole while watching TV. Dr. Potts discovered my secret this morning. He asked why I hadn’t shared the great news with the others. I told him that I thought that he would be upset. It was a lie, I really just hadn’t seen TV in so long that I wasn’t about to have to ration my time with it by sharing it with all of the others. I know it’s selfish, but at least I am being truthful. Sadly, I knew all along that my nights alone snuggled up with my little TV were numbered. At least I enjoyed it while I had the chance.
Thursday – January 18th
Ever since Dr. Potts discovered the television, we’ve watched nothing but the world news. In the six or so months that Honeyville has been quarantined, not a single one of us thought about how peaceful it is in here. We have all been so focused on escaping, that we hadn’t really noticed that life in Honeyville isn’t so bad - certainly not as bad as the world that exists outside of these four walls. Hours passed and one depressing news story rolled on after another. We stopped digging. We sat around that television all day, depressed. At the end of the day, we started refilling the hole, burying the television along with it.
Goddamn Electric Nights Page 2