The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel

by Michael Wallace

  He ran towards the advancing police unit with a loud scream. The officers drew their handguns and opened fire. Bullets pelted the Viking's body from his hips to his shoulders, but it did nothing to slow his assault. When he reached the first line of police, he smashed his rock on top of their helmets with no effect. An officer grabbed his arm holding the rock. Gunnar quickly bit the man's hand. As the human screamed out in pain, the Viking bit a large chunk out of the man's cheek. Two more officers pulled him off their colleague and tried to pin him to the ground. Greg quickly thrust a three-foot long piece of rebar through the throat of one officer.

  Gunnar sprang to his feet. Bullets flew through the air like rain, but did nothing to the undead. An officer shot his taster into the Viking. The electrical jolt sent his body into convulsions. He fell lurching on the ground, as Hod's spear thrust into the officer's body. Hod grabbed Gunnar's shoulders and pulled him away from the attackers.

  Prometheus felt as helpless, just as he did when the Spartans attacked Athens. Only these weren't powerless civilians this time. He watched Greg use his skills as a samurai to maim and kill the attacking force, wielding the rebar as a sword.

  Hod jumped from cars and trees onto the living men, demonstrating this was not his first battle. He bit the ears off each victim. Drew and Jennifer stood further back, throwing rocks. Accustomed to her royal position, Rachel stood on a plastic crate and ordered those around her to attack, as though she sent her army into battle.

  The police slowed the assault, took cover behind vehicles and trees, and they called out in their strange language. Gunnar waved his arm forward and yelled in his Norse accent, "Come on men! Let's teach these scoundrels what happens when they start a fight with our clan."

  * * *

  Dressed in riot gear, John Colton quietly addressed his men, who were all huddled close together. "There's a group of re-ans on the other side of the quarantine barrier around the corner. We're going to do this by the book, just like we practiced on the range. The flash-bangs will confuse them and the gas will corral them together. We should have them in the truck in no time."

  As he glanced around the corner, one of his rookie officers said, "This is so surreal."

  He turned back toward the skinny man with thick glasses and a slight overbite and asked, "What's your name, officer?"

  "Schimmple, Morton Schimmple."

  "Well, Schimmple, why is this surreal?"

  "Just a week ago, I thought this re-animated outbreak was only a myth, some kind of Internet hoax. I thought the news blew the whole thing out of proportion and we'd forget about it once the playoffs started. But here I am about to go on my first goose roundup."

  Checking around the corner again, Colton waved his hand forward and said, "Now!"

  Three officers stood and threw the flash-bangs into the street. Two more officers threw several teargas canisters into the quarantined block. Pulling their gasmasks over their faces, the policemen scrambled over the concrete barrier. Colton remained behind the lines to coordinate the assault. He watched as the closest zombies ran from his men. Two of his men tackled a living dead as he came out of a store. He struggled and tried to bite them. As one officer held the zombie down, the other pulled out his baton and beat the undead over the head. "Oh holy crap!" The officer screamed out. "His brains are pouring out of his skull."

  Colton called out to his men. "Watch out! That one has a big rock."

  A zombie with long hair, chain necklaces and leather wrist cuffs, charged the officers while holding a piece of broken sidewalk in his hand. He had gray rotted skin and patches where dried muscle showed through. The police drew their guns and fired. With bullets hitting their target, the crazed heavy metal band re-animated body continued running at them. When he reached the front line, he tried to smash the rock into the helmets of the men. One officer grabbed the deceased's arm and tried to shake the rock loose. The zombie turned and bit the man's hand. As he pulled a large piece of flesh back, blood splattered over the zombie's face.

  More officers opened fire and more of the undead retracted their retreat, turned and attacked. A black zombie in a business suite and tie, swung a piece of rebar like a sword. He showed the dexterity and skill of a martial arts master. Firing bullets had no effect as the well-dressed dead man dropped each officer he approached.

  Colton stepped over the concrete barrier, lifted his gas mask and called out to his men. "Bring the line together. You're too spread out. They're breaking through the openings and flanking us." He watched, as his men hid behind cars and trees, firing wildly down the street. "No, come back to the center of the street and form your tight line."

  Through the cloud of smoke covering the street, just beyond the barrier, more zombies appeared. They grabbed his men and began biting any exposed skin. Through his radio, Colton heard General Brown ask, "Colton. What's going on over there? Why haven't you called for the truck?"

  John grabbed his radio and replied, "General, this went south real fast. It's not the goose roundup we expected. These re-ans are fighting back. My men are out of ammo and they've overrun our front line. We need to withdraw from the quarantined zone."

  Over the speaker came, "Out of ammo! Ignoring every science fiction movie ever made, you thought bullets would stop zombies? Get your men out of there now!"

  As Colton called out the order for his men to fall back behind the concrete road barrier, another wave of undead swarmed over his men. Outnumbered and out of bullets, the police force tried to flee, but the zombies overwhelmed them. With several re-animated holding each officer to the ground, they took bite after bite out of the living. John continued to call out to his officers to retreat, but he could no longer see any movement through the smoke. Slowly, the screams of his men died out, until only the moans and hisses of the zombies remained.

  A shadow grew large in the smoke, as something ran directly at him. Colton pulled out his taser and aimed at the approaching body. From smoke, Morton Schimmple, his only remaining officer, appeared and jumped over the barrier. John relaxed his grip and asked, "Where are the others?"

  In a panic, Morton responded, "They're dead! Those things are eating them. We need to get out of here now."

  As his officer tried to run away, John grabbed his shoulder and said, "Wait, here comes someone."

  A silhouette moved out of the smoke, close to the barrier. John saw one of his officers walking slowly toward him. The man had blood covering his face with several areas of skin and muscle bitten and torn away. "Johnson, is that you? Let's get you to the paramedics."

  As the officer walked into the light, Colton saw the white milky eyes and blank expression on his face. Morton turned and ran as he called out, "He's one of them!"

  Colton raised his taser and said, "You're going to be okay, Johnson."

  The approaching officer answered in a language of moans. Two more officers walked out of the smoke speaking in the same un-translatable words. Colton holstered his taser and ran off down the street.

  Chapter 6

  A squirrel ran across the floor with part of a cracker in its mouth. Outside the building, ravens cawed and the gentle breeze whistled through the tree branches. Voices of the small groups of zombies echoed and bounced around the warehouse. In the center of the large vacant industrial space, Hod tried to start a fire on a pile of broken wooden pallets sparking a piece of flint against a shard of steel. Prometheus stood near a window letting the sun's rays bask on his face. He could not sense the golden warmth, but he let his mind imagine what it should feel like if he were still alive. With his eyes closed, he saw himself back in Greece standing on a cliff overlooking the dark blue sea. The wind blew through his toga as the salt air filtered through his nose. He could hear the seagulls squawking and the waves crashing on the rocks below. For the first time, a sense of calm flowed through the body he inhabited, but it all came to a sudden stop.

  "Hey, dude, the Roman and the Viking want you to join their little pow-wow."

  Prometheus opened h
is eyes and saw Drew standing next to him pointing to a group gathered next to a large hydraulic press. Nemi, the Egyptian in the motorcyclist's body, waved him over.

  As he joined the group, Titus caught him up on the conversation. "To organize our growing society, I have scribed a structure of government to help us achieve the task given to us by the gods. It is the system we used in Rome with governors and senators representing the greater number of voices. I have spoken with many of the moderns and this structure has endured through the centuries and with various forms it is still in use today."

  "It sounds similar to the style of government that we used in Athens. It worked well then, it should operate with the same efficiency now," Prometheus responded.

  "Truer words have not been spoken." Titus replied. "With the events of last night, I along with many others have ceded to the fact we will need a military force for our protection." He pointed to a duffle bag filled with 9mm handguns, Remington shotguns, and several boxes of ammunition. "The good John of Vegas and Vic of Chicago gathered these for us early this morning from an abandoned merchant who sold such devices. We are told they are modern weapons we can use in our defense against the living who intend us harm."

  Prometheus picked up a Glock and pointed it directly in his right eye to see inside the barrel. "How do such weapons operate? I see no sharp edges to cause damage to an enemy soldier."

  Vic reached over and gently pulled the gun down from the Greek's face. "Careful there, Socrates. You just put the business end up to your mug. If you had pulled back on this thing here, called a trigger, your head would be gone."

  Examining the weapon with it pointed into the warehouse, he pulled the trigger. The recoil caused the gun to jump out of his hand and land on the ground. The bullet hit a startled zombie across the room, causing nothing more than confusion, as to what just hit him in the chest.

  Pointing to the angry undead person, Vic said, "See, if you did that to the living, they would be one of us right now."

  With an open hand, palm up, Titus pointed to the Viking. "This leads us to the formation of a military. We have discussed the issue of a leader and consensus dictates that we choose the good Gunnar Benwa."

  Scanning the duffle bag, Gunnar said, "I don't understand these strange weapons, but the moderns insist they are effective. For me, give me a sword and mace, and I will fall any living, daring enough to challenge us."

  "The descendants outnumber us greatly. Will we truly have a chance to defend ourselves?" Prometheus asked.

  "I wondered the same." Titus responded. "Would we be a sufficient force to combat the descendants, or merely fodder for their next gladiator games? This brought to mind the mistake made by praetor Gaius Claudius Glaberus when he thought the rebellion would be an assault on disorganized slaves. Unknown to him, they had been trained in the military arts by the gladiators Crixus and Spartacus. Judging by the lack of knowledge the moderns have of our time, I feel the living are about to re-live this same error in judgment."

  Standing at the edge of the group, Jennifer spoke up. "It's settled then, we are to promote Gunnar to the rank of General, so he can lead our new army."

  Titus turned to the Viking and said, "All hail General Gunnar Benwa." Several zombies joined in the chant.

  Jennifer tapped Prometheus on the shoulder and said, "We should be making a video of this to document our rise to save humanity."

  Confused, he replied, "Video? What is this you speak of?"

  "Remember when I taught you about movies and television? It's the way we record the actors and events to be played back for others to see."

  "Can we use one of these videos to act out our message to the descendants?"

  Jennifer thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess we could. I didn't see any electronic stores in the abandoned parts of town. We would need to send some of our folks into the population. Once they see us, it might not go so well."

  Drew injected, "Yeah, the only electronics store within walking distance would be over on the mall, past the museum. There's a good size crowd there night and day."

  Walking over to the group, Constance offered her help. "I often assisted in many performances in our city playhouse. I do not mean to sound boastful, but I received high praise for my application of stage makeup and costumes. I can dress us up in a way that we won’t be discovered for who we are."

  "I say we take the charming Constance up on her offer for assistance." Titus replied as he addressed the group.

  * * *

  With his whiskey flask in hand, General Brown stood at the end of the conference table and addressed the room full of military officers. At the opposite end of the table, a monitor teleconferenced Daniel and Lisa from their lab. "How long until you have the cure?" He said to the scientists. Daniel moved closer to the camera, causing his face to have a fisheye lens effect. He cleared his throat and with a nervous tone said, "Dr. Tower and I have made great strides in finding a cure. We have isolated what appears to cause the re-animation effect."

  "So you found the virus."

  "No, General. We can't classify it as a virus at this time. Truthfully, we don't know what this is."

  "You don't need to know what it is, just figure out how to kill it." The General turned to the other men in the room. "Until they come up with a cure, we need to step up our efforts. I have reports coming in from several countries the re-ans are fighting back only not in the soccer riot fashion. They are organized and using military tactics. Albeit, rather ancient strategies, they are still effective methods for this type of street fight."

  One of the officers at the table asked, "Are the re-ans capable of communicating with other groups in different countries?"

  "As far as we can tell, they can't even communicate with each other when they are only feet apart. These rebellious outbreaks are isolated incidents, but they are similar in execution. This is why we can no longer rely on our first responders to take care of the situation. The President has given me the go ahead to bring in reservists and eliminate the threat."

  Another officer asked, "But bullets and conventional weapons have no effect on them. What will we use?"

  "Everything we have. They burn extremely easy. Once you squish them under a tank tread, it's just a matter of cleaning up." He pointed to the folders on the table in front of all the men. "You have your objectives in front of you. When you get back to your home state, use whatever tools you have at your disposal. Try not to break any building or infrastructure, because we would have to go back in and re-build it. This whole operation has already thrown us way over budget." Brown took a swig from his flask and glanced at his cell phone. He saw a text from Pink, which said, "How about you take me to dinner?" He became so captivated with the message that he did not notice Daniel had spent a few minutes explaining the progress they had made on the anti-virus. He came out of his trance and focused back on the meeting.

  On the video screen, Daniel continued, "…so it acts more like a parasite than a virus taking control of the nervous system, much the same way as the parasitic fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis takes control over the brain and nervous system of an ant. Only, this is a much larger scale with more complexity to the operation of the host body."

  Hearing the words "parasitic fungus," caused Brown to take another sip from his whiskey. "Why does this fungus want to take control of an ant?"

  Daniel moved to the side as Lisa moved into view of the camera to answer the question. "Hi General, it's me, Dr. Tower."

  "Yes, Doctor, I know who you are."

  "Okay, the fungus has the same purpose as all living entities. It simply wants to reproduce. When it takes control of the ant's brain, it forces the ant to climb to a high point, so it can spread its spores. We can only assume the virus, fungus or parasite controlling these re-animated bodies is using them for the same purpose. It will eventually cause the body to go somewhere or do something needed for the reproduction cycle of the entoparasite."

  Having an expression of dissatisfaction,
Brown responded, "So, can we just spray them with bug killer and then be done with this whole thing?"

  Daniel moved his way back into the screen. "Actually, that gives me an idea, General. I'll go over some theories with Dr. Tower and get back to you tomorrow. We may be only weeks away from a cure."

  * * *

  Prometheus, along with a group of his fellow zombies, walked down the sidewalk in the bright sunshine. An unusual amount of ravens gathered in the trees and watched the journey through the city. Outside of the quarantined zone, the undead tried to blend in with the living by wearing the costumes and makeup applied by Constance. The makeup looked overdone like a vaudevillian actor, which did manage to give some living color to their graying skin. The costume portion of the disguise consisted of nothing more than a large handlebar mustache given to each member of the group, except for John. He wore his blue dress, a wig and applied his own makeup, which made him blend in with the living the better than all the others.

  As they walked, Jennifer asked Prometheus, "So what did you do for a living back in your time?"

  "I don't understand your words. For me to live, I needed to breath, eat and drink. I would have to assume the moderns did the same."

  With a slight smile, Jennifer replied, "Yes, my terminology might be a bit confusing to you. What I meant was how did you earn your money?"

  "Oh, from where did I arrive at my wealth?" Prometheus reflected for a moment. "My family owned an olive orchard. We found a very lucrative market in Egypt. The Egyptians had quite a taste for both the raw olives and the pressed oil."

  John entered the conversation. "I spent a month in Greece a few years ago. From the amount of olive groves in the area, there is a good chance your orchard still exists. With all the wars through the centuries, I doubt your descendents still own it, but it might still exist."

  "When we are done with our mission here, I hope to see my home and stroll through the orchard once again."