Zombies Evolved

by Derick Campbell

  “Runs the best club, does he?” Dad claps his hand on my shoulder. “We’re both full of surprises tonight.”

  “We should grab a table and talk Dad.”

  “Good idea. Really nice to meet you gentlemen. Enjoy the game.”

  Dad raises his glass to them. We all raise our glasses, clink, and have a drink. I bring Dad over to my managers table in the corner, with a reserved sign on it. It is quieter over here, and out of earshot.

  “Damned fine place here Rob. What do people bet on?”

  “Just about anything. Sports, horses, events like poker – anything they’ll play on ESPN. Elite membership, phone betting. I’m happy to give you the full tour, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

  He smiles, looks around again, and has a drink. “Why don’t you tell me what you know?”

  “Okay. Leveraging the psychological power of the zombie ‘inspiration model’ you created with Dr. Zachman, you have created what I believe is the world’s largest zombie crime organization.”

  He nods with a serious look, I continue.

  “You’re pulling in funding from elderly, dissatisfied zombies to create churches that accept them. Using these as bases, you identify youth that are frustrated with their lives, and agree to turn them into zombies using potassium chloride, or KCI, to temporarily stop their heart. You are doing this legally – including signed contracts – likely with the help of a medical professional. These young, strong zombies, who now have reduced ethical concerns, are then put to work in distributing or selling drugs. They sell to anyone, including powerful speedballs to other zombies.

  “Thanks to a paramilitary security firm called Fundamental Defense Services, which is also staffed by zombies, you’ve recovered enough of your drugs from the police to keep all of the new zombies in North America high and happy. I suspect that you personally were involved in sourcing drug deals with both Mexico and China. You shipped the drugs by taking advantage of legal shipments between countries, having a shipping company add and remove drugs at the points of departure and arrival.”

  Dad takes another drink from his beer, musing what I’ve said thoughtfully. I do the same.

  “You’ve got people on the inside,” I continue. “Dana is with the FBI and working undercover in the Seattle PD. This gives you information nationally and special assistance in Seattle where you are headquartered. How am I doing so far?”

  “Not bad – do you know any more?”

  “You’re doing this in over thirty cities. Cities in the US with large populations, plus at least three cities in Canada.”

  I have another drink.

  “Let’s say you became a temporary partner in the organization – on probation until the others trust you. How does this help us?”

  “Well for one, I can help to keep the evidence of this massive undertaking hidden for as long as possible. You don’t want the Seattle PD to know that an operation of this significance is happening right here. I’m qualified in zombie psychology which will be helpful directing zombie criminals on the ground. I’m an expert at securing illegal organizations that hide in plain sight. I built this club four years ago. You didn’t recognize our security protocols, but if I wanted to – you would have been incapacitated by the front guards.”

  “I see. Go on.”

  “And I can keep an eye on your zombie partners like Dana. There’s only so far you can trust a zombie with this type of information.” I consider what I’ve just said. “Speaking of, what does Dana do in your operation?”

  “Oh, she’s been very helpful. I can’t tell her everything – we keep things compartmentalized – and she wouldn’t like some sides of the business. Not many people in the organization know even as much as you’ve figured out.”

  He takes another drink, and continues. “She’s your partner, how about you talk to her about it?”

  * * *

  Monday June 28

  My dad and I had a couple more beers together last night. It was the best night I’ve ever had with him. We were joking and laughing, and shared more about each other’s businesses.

  I could see that he didn’t tell me everything, but we definitely warmed up to each other. I never would have guessed that crime could bring our cop family closer together.

  “Morning Dana, shall we hit the road?”

  We are both in the office bright and early. I believe my dad called her last night to let her know I was in the group. But we can’t talk about our secrets here.

  Once we are on road, I initiate our conversation again.

  “Do I have you to thank for carrying me upstairs last night Dana?”

  She smiles. “Sorry about knocking you out last night Rob. Your dad insisted I do something before you messed things up.”

  “Hey – chloroform was far better than being hit in the head with a gun. Much appreciated.”

  She and I both smile. I try to get the conversation back on track. “Last week was quite interesting, hey? We both had our secrets.”

  “You have secrets Rob?”

  Perhaps she doesn’t know about my gambling club. I guess Dad didn’t tell her everything about me, either.

  “Well, I’ve known for a while that you are working for the FBI.”

  “I thought you may have figured that out.”

  “But I can’t figure out what you do for the FBI Dana, or why you are here.”

  “I’m investigating you and your father.”

  * * *

  A few of the young, ex-military zombies from FDS had the day off. They were headed into town to visit Ada’s brothel. Ada has several young zombie prostitutes – the best kind.

  “Jack, what did you talk to that guy about?”

  “Just picking up something to make our afternoon a little more interesting.” He showed the other zombies what he had. A half-dozen speedballs wrapped in zombie proportions.

  “Oh yeah – this is going to be a party!”

  They arrived, checked-in, and settled into the common room at Ada’s.

  “How are you doing boys?” Ada welcomed them warmly.

  “We are doing great!” Several of them had already started inhaling the drugs. “We could use some shots – the usual!”

  “Coming right up boys,” Ada walked over to the bar to ask for a half-dozen zombie shots – including 151 Bacardi, black rum, apple brandy, and just a little juice for flavor.

  “Ada – we need to see some ladies!”

  Ada called for the girls with a bell, and several zombie women walked into the room. While the rest of the guys were still paying attention to their drugs, Jack stepped up as the match-maker.

  “You over there, you there, you’re with him, you cutie should go see him, you’re nice and exotic – you should see him. And you darling with the beautiful eyes, you should stay with me.”

  Jennifer, the newly turned zombie, sat down with Jack while the other girls each joined their zombie matches.

  * * *

  I’m sure I have a shocked look on my face. Dana laughs.

  “Don’t worry silly, I’m not actually investigating you. I’m an agent for the FBI working for anti-corruption.”

  “Anti-corruption?”

  “Yes. My position in the FBI has made it easy to find out who in public office could be ‘trusted’ to have some criminal tendencies, or could be bribed. Your father Dan and I have been working together with a mission of full zombie integration across society.”

  “This explains your shooting skills.”

  Dana laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been with the FBI for twelve years – an undercover agent for the last eight.”

  “And your family?”

  “Doesn’t exist. That was the story my FBI handler put together. We felt it would make you trust me more.”

  “Didn’t the FBI get rid of their zombie employees like everyone else?”

  “As far as I know, I’m the only one. There’s a special exception for me because of my great work and knowledge in this field.”r />
  “I’m confused. Perhaps you could take it from the top?”

  “Sure.” Dana takes a breath and thinks. “After years with the FBI, I became a zombie. Not much differently than I explained before – although how I was infected was different.

  “When I turned, I was sent to the zombie research lab up in Canada.”

  “I know – that’s where I saw your picture.”

  “So that’s how you know I’m FBI. Anyway, while I was working with Dr. Zachman, I met your father. He is a warm, funny, and inspirational man. He and I came up with our vision for establishing zombies as equals in society. To make the world a better place.

  “He created the IAB here in Seattle, and helped many other police departments do the same – giving hard working zombies important, meaningful jobs in society. While he did that, we found people in many cities that helped establish the zombie church – giving zombies more places to feel welcome.”

  “What about the zombie turning Dana – what do you think about that?”

  “People that choose to become zombies are doing it of their own free will. Most of them aren’t happy with being human, and becoming a zombie makes them happy. What could be wrong with that?”

  From her voice, I can tell that Dana is invested in this particular line of thinking. I decide not to challenge her too much while I’m still learning from her.

  “And the drugs?”

  “Hard drugs are like alcohol to a zombie. You can get drunk – why can’t zombies have the same freedom?”

  “Have you taken these drugs Dana?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know it’s the same as alcohol to a human?”

  “That’s what Dan told me.”

  I can see signs of zombie brainwashing going on here. I decide to change the conversation a little.

  “Dana – if you are the only zombie with the FBI, do you have any zombie inspiration meetings there?”

  “Nope – they don’t know anything about that. They don’t seem to care about that side of me. The first time I attended a zombie inspiration meeting was last week with IAB. It was wonderful.”

  Okay – this is making sense now. It would have been easy for my dad, an expert at zombie psychology, to get Dana to see his organization the way she wants to see it. As long as the actions of the organization are still seen as good by her diminished zombie ethics – or as supporting a greater good like zombie equality – and she is getting regular inspiration to that effect, she will continue to support my dad’s enterprise.

  As a member of the FBI’s anti-corruption department, she is an incredible asset for an international crime organization. She’s a double-agent. Or is that a triple-agent? I’m not certain – it’s too confusing for me.

  She might not have had any inspiration meetings while working with my dad, but I bet he was using the same zombie programming concepts on her. Let’s test how far this goes.

  “Dana, what are your thoughts on the original zombies we found?”

  “Apparently, some level one zombies were created while the doctors were getting the kinks out of the turning process. Those level ones were being cared for.”

  “Why were they so hungry?”

  “That pastor Peter – I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. I’ve met him before – he seems incompetent. There’s no reason to let those zombies go hungry.”

  Apparently she didn’t know the plan for the original zombies to scare our city’s politicians and business leaders. I can see her rage coming through; I better not mess with her right now. It’s time to change the subject again.

  “How did you end up working as an undercover agent partnered with me?”

  “That was fairly easy. Once evidence of Dan’s plans started showing up on the FBI’s radar, some of which seemed to indicate corruption within the police, I helped them come up with the idea of putting an undercover agent inside. Once they thought it was their idea, I suggested myself for the job.

  “When your partner died – I had nothing to do with the Rob – my handler got me into the Detectives exams, which would qualify me to become your partner. We got a little lucky there.”

  Timing is everything. Plus, not many new zombies are qualified and lined up to join the IAB.

  Dana continues. “It was the perfect way for us to control information making it back to the FBI while we continued growing the organization, and making the world a better place for zombies everywhere.”

  “That was brilliant work Dana – nicely done.”

  Dana smiles and flushes a little.

  Now that she is regularly attending zombie school with other zombies in the Seattle PD – I wonder how long her commitment to my father will last?

  * * *

  Jack, Jennifer, and the other zombies practically finished all of the drugs while drinking for at least an hour.

  The noise level in the room was crazy. All of the other patrons left. Ada sat in a nearby room worrying a little, while the bartender kept making fancy, hard-core beverages.

  Two of the couples were having sex right in the common room. Two of the male zombies were in a heated argument about how they each reacted during a recent military operation. One of the couples stared fighting over who would get to do the last line of drugs.

  The three arguments converged and started to get physical. Jack slapped the girl in the face as she went to do the last line.

  “Take a break bitch, those are for my boys.”

  She got up and put her face right next to Jack and screamed at him. Jennifer went to her side to back her up. They started pushing Jack.

  “You can’t tell us what to do you fucking john. This is our place.”

  In his stimulated state Jack had no time for either of them, and he punched the first girl in the face, almost knocking her out. Jennifer became furious and jumped on Jack from the side, clawing at his body and face. Another girl, alone while her man was in an argument, joined Jennifer in assaulting Jack.

  Jack raised his voice. “Team – need your help here.”

  The men all stopped what they were doing, stood up – zipping up where necessary – and went to help Jack. All of the women jumped at them – punching and kicking.

  One man remained without a girl on him – she was on Jack. He went to pull her off.

  The scuffle escalated even further – with screaming, yelling, and fists flying everywhere.

  Blood showed up on people’s knuckles and ran from their noses. A few teeth were broken. One girl bit one of the guy’s ears off.

  The zombie men know how to handle themselves in life and death situations – and it was starting to look bleak. Two of the women grabbed nearby bottles and knocked out two of their team. There were just four of them left to fight.

  Jack took Jennifer’s head in his two massive arms, and twisted her head to the right in the blink of an eye. The rapid movement was accompanied by the sound of bone snapping and cartilage tearing. Jennifer dropped to the floor, dead.

  Upon witnessing this, the remaining five women increased their assault on the four men.

  One of the women called for help. “Ada – we need the gun in here!”

  The smallest male zombie in the room grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and to the ground, and then stepped on her throat with a crunching sound. Blood bubbled from her mouth.

  The bartender, who witnessed some of the violence before ducking down, rose up from behind the bar with a shotgun. She aimed it at Jack’s chest and pulled the trigger. Jack went down, dead. A woman near him was hit by a few pellets and collapsed, wounded.

  There were three men left standing, and three women standing – plus the bartender – in the room.

  At this point, Ada entered the room from the other side with a pistol and shot two of the men right in the head. The last man standing screamed and rushed toward her. She shot at him three times, two of the shots hitting him in the arm and leg.

  He launched himself in the air at Ada, and grabbed for her th
roat. He tackled her while holding her neck, slamming her head into a small stage. He then picked her head up two more times, slamming it down hard each time. He took a moment to step up over Ada’s lifeless body, breathing heavily. He turned around to see the bartender right next to him. She fired the shotgun right into his belly, upon which he was thrown back and collapsed in a heap in the corner. He died slowly.

  The bartender loaded two more rounds into the shotgun and surveyed the damage. There are four dead customers and two unconscious customers. Her boss Ada was dead, two of her working acquaintances were dead – including the new girl Jennifer – and the girl she shot accidentally was wounded.

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “I hate this fucking job.”

  * * *

  An anchor with the local press was invited inside police HQ to meet and talk with the hero zombie cop, Jake.

  Jake smiles and looks right into the camera. “Just remember to keep your zombies fed, and they won’t be any trouble.”

  The interview is just concluding. The anchor thanks Jake for his time and congratulates him on an excellent job.

  Dana and I arrive just at that moment. We’ve been out the entire day, learning more about each other and our new business together.

  Several cops are patting Jake on the back and commending him for his work yesterday. We can see him show up on the TV. One of the other news stations is talking about his work.

  “Hey, turn it up!” One of the cops asks, and another raises the volume.

  Dana and I stop to watch. It looks like this is the first time Dana has seen the news of the original zombies. She is riveted to the television.

  I listen only a little to the show – I had heard the news myself. “Original zombies... saved by hero zombie cop Jake... zombies were just hungry... saved the mayor, several businessmen, and students.”

  I can see Dana thinking about this news, and reacting. At first she is confused, but then she has a grim look.

  At this point Eric Gunner, the zombie interviewer for the Seattle IAB comes into the room.

  “Jake, are you and I still on for our interview tomorrow? Police around the world will want to know how you saved humans and zombies all at once.”

  They talk for a while about their plans, all smiles.

  As Eric turns to leave, he walks by where Dana and I are sitting. She hasn’t taken her eye off him the entire time.

  Just as he opens the door to leave, Dana waves at him and smiles. “Hi Eric!”