Timothy

by Mark Tufo

  “Please help,” Scarlett begged.

  At some point, the taxidermist left, and good riddance. He talked more than most women I’d ever met, and at least with them I could shove my dick in their mouths and shut them up. It wasn’t long afterward the zombies in my cage started to go a little crazy, and that could only mean one thing: Food was close. Five men came in with cattle prods, started zapping zombies away from the door, some needing a little more persuading than others. I kept us as far away from the action as I could, no matter what Manny was urging.

  “Dumbass, do you not smell that char? That’s zombie flesh burning.” They repeatedly kept zapping the zombies until they all fell to the floor.

  “What’s up with this one?”

  “Doesn’t want to get nailed, I guess. Who gives a fuck? Just grab the closest one and let’s get out of here.” The man donned a large chainmail sleeve that went all the way up to his shoulder. A third unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Make sure that one doesn’t come after me.”

  There were three sticks pointing at my mid-section, I decided I wasn’t going to move. Chainmail man reached in and grabbed the foot of a slender man next to me. Pulled him completely out then shut and locked the door. They tied a muzzle around the zombie’s face and velcroed heavy protective gloves to the zombie’s hands. These guys weren’t fucking around. If this was the way they moved all of the zombies, I had little chance of escape. And soon, Manny’s pleas for food were going to become overwhelmingly incessant. When I couldn’t deliver, he would take back over and the chance he would once again relinquish it would be reduced significantly. The situation was looking bleak. I saw the door to the lab open, and the same men delivered their capture to the techs inside. They pointed through the window to me as I was the only one they could see.

  “Great, in a world chock full of zombies, I just singled myself out as a special one.”

  Every day, another zombie was dragged out in pretty much the same manner, until I was left alone. I should note that none of those taken ever came back. I would imagine they had received baptism by incinerator when their usefulness was over. Chance would return every night with a hunk of meat. It wasn’t human, but it kept the worst of Manny at bay. He would watch and talk as I ate.

  “Those other zombies are dead; they’re calling it Z-Gas for now. It’s pretty close to live tests. It’s an aerosol version of the thing I darted you with. Causes zombies to drop immediately and stay down for about six hours, except for you, it has been a hundred percent in trials. The only problem is that it’s like a souped-up tear gas for people. Really screws with their sinuses and eyes. Burns pretty bad going down your throat too. I know, I volunteered. Thought I’d swallowed a peck of ghost peppers. Ever had those? I wouldn’t recommend it. Although, at least with the gas, I didn’t feel like I was shitting out burning porcupines. So there’s that anyway!” He started laughing.

  I wanted to rip his bobbing Adam’s apple clear from his throat and split it in half with my canines as he screamed in agony. And still he kept talking, like he was getting paid per word.

  “With the right gear on though, a team of ten could conceivably kill thousands in that time frame. They have these super strong cattle prods calibrated to fry a brain in under half a second. Needs some strong juice though, so they have to wear what looks like a car battery on their backs, but with a harness you hardly know it’s there. I know because I volunteered to try it out. They gassed the whole holding area, looked like all the puppeteers had let go of their strings at the exact same time. Zombies fell in sheets, and then me and nine others, six women and three men, went in and started using the z-sticks. The nice thing about it is that it leaves a brand on the forehead; that way you know that one is already dead. That was my idea, otherwise you’d be zapping z’s three, maybe four times, not knowing if it had already been done. And lord knows you don’t want to miss any. It was safe enough under these controlled circumstances; we had armed men all over the fence line, but when it goes live, well…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re going to volunteer.”

  Chance started scooting his chair back so quickly he fell over and out of it.

  “Shit, did I say that out loud?”

  “You … you can talk? I knew it, I knew something was different about you! Who are you? What are you?” He had recovered from the floor, he got closer but not nearly close enough.

  Chance tried in vain for the next few hours to drag something out of me. I wouldn’t give him the time of day, although it did get a little interesting when he offered a massive quantity of meat—and raw this time—in exchange for some vocalization. I had to turn the reins over to Manny. He insisted. At least this way, there was no way we’d say anything again. Not going to lie, it was nice to be in the background for a little while. Something to be said about not having to have any responsibility. Sort of like being a teenager again. It’s funny when you’re that age, you think the whole world is screwing with you but in reality you’re barely getting the tip of the dick. You have to wait until adulthood when you start to get really good and fucked, and without the benefit of a good lube. In the end, it didn’t matter, he gave up the food anyway; who wants stuff back that has been exposed to a zombie?

  Manny ate up everything and dropped back into his throne. I was surprised he didn’t have me feed his kingly ass. I thought about smashing my head against the bars repeatedly to kill myself when I heard the familiar jangling of keys in the door. If it was Chance again and he wasn’t dragging a sacrificial human behind him, I wanted nothing to do with our next meeting.

  “This is the one I’ve been telling you about, doc.”

  “Great,” I said sarcastically, but internally. I had a hunch it was big time important to keep my mouth shut.

  “I knew it was smart, I just knew it, but this one even spoke!”

  The severe looking woman did not look pleased that she had been dragged from what I would imagine had been a world-class kitten beating session. Her hair was pulled back tight enough that she’d given herself a facelift, a small bun perched precariously atop her head. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at me, and then a look of utter disgust passed her visage when she looked at Chance.

  “Chance, what did I tell you about anthropomorphizing the zombies? No matter what some of my colleagues are trying to accomplish here, I can assure you that there is not a shred of humanity left in these things. They are savage monsters, and the only research that matters now is the one that gets rid of them the quickest.”

  “Yeah doc, I admit I thought I was going insane too. I really did, and then I had Greenie pull the footage.”

  “Oh-oh,” I said as I looked at the computer screen Chance was moving over to. Within a minute, he’d pulled up some intra-web email or something.

  “I had him send me the clip.” He hit play. On the video, there was Chance rambling on like he does, and twenty-two seconds in, I made my debut.

  The doctor took in a sharp intake of air. I thought the bun was in great danger of rolling off her head, she turned so quickly. She then turned back around. “Play it again, and you swear, Chance, this is not manipulated in any way?”

  “Doctor Rosamilia, I saw it with my own two eyes. Even if I somehow knew how to do something like this, why would I?”

  We watched it ten more times, and each subsequent time there were more people in that room. After each and every time, they would look over to me. You’d think one of the bastards would have the good grace to get within biting distance. If anything, they would move further away. Something worse about something self-aware eating you, I guess.

  One of the pencil dicks asked if I was human. Chance answered.

  “She came in herded with the rest of the zombies, and she’s been in that cell with a bunch of other zombies for half a week. I’m thinking they would have sensed something.”

  Pencil dick looked thoroughly embarrassed he’d asked the question. Kind of like he was in the eighth grad
e and he asked his friends what his pencil dick was for. You may have not done it by then, but you should have a pretty good idea what to do with it.

  “What’s her designation?” the doctor asked. Chance grabbed one of the electric sticks and approached.

  “Move away from the bars, or I’m going to have to zap you.”

  I summarily growled at him.

  “This shit hurts, I’m telling you.”

  I thought about freaking them all out and saying, “Because your dumb ass volunteered,” but I kept silent. I needed to escape, and with all eyes on me and myriad tests to follow, that wasn’t going to happen. The sooner they thought I was just your garden variety flesh-eater, the better. My teeth clenched involuntarily. I figured he’d give me one more warning before he thrust that thing into my ribcage. He was right, it did fucking hurt. Plus, the smell of charring skin sent hunger pains coursing through my body. Chance zapped us again and quickly reached out to grab a chart I hadn’t noticed before. He pulled it off the side of the cage and stepped back. When I had the opening, I was going to shove that stick up his ass and see how much he liked it. Probably make his dick explode, now wouldn’t that be fun! He must have been watching my face because he stepped back further, a look of worry lifting his eyebrows.

  “Doctor, she’s numbered 10235-ZF, zombie female.”

  “I’m pretty sure I know what ZF stands for, Chance, but thank you.” The doctor logged out of Chance’s intra-web account and logged into her own. I didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but the way the science geeks clustered around the monitor I figured it had to be something super nerdy. I found out soon enough, and I was right.

  “Why wasn’t I told about this?” Dr. Rosamilia asked the crowd.

  “About what, Doctor?” one of the little geek-meisters asked. Probably enough pocket protectors in this room I could start my own business. Speaking of which. Where do you even get that shit? I’ve never walked into a store and seen them. Was there a Geek Emporium that I wasn’t aware of? They probably had to hide the place pretty good or else bullies would have hung out in front by the truck loads, pushing the little peckers around. That would have been fun as hell actually. All the little nerds getting dropped off by their moms so they could get their calculators and tape for their glasses and pants that were a few inches too short. Ah, just like school, when it was more acceptable to put them in their place, which generally involved a locker or a toilet.

  “Do you see that?” She pointed to something on the screen. No one answered in the affirmative. “Hold on, let me put them up side by side.” Some clickety clack of the keyboard, and then she spoke again. “Okay, how about now?” Crickets could have pulled off a concert in the ensuing silence.

  I growled. I wanted to say “stupid nerds,” but discretion was a better option at this time. Even so, the group turned to look at me. Better my way than the scrutiny Herr Doctor was giving them.

  “We’ll get to her soon enough.” She took their focus back. “Look at the outer cell structure of the virus. There is a uniform bump at the apex of every last one of them.”

  There were gasps as each of them saw what she was talking about.

  “What’s it mean?” Pencil dick asked.

  “It means our virus has a virus.” The doctor looked over at me. I half expected dramatic music to be overlaid on the scene.

  “That’s not possible. Is it?” one of the others asked.

  “And yet, there it is. Something is in there with this zombie, and we’re going to find out.”

  Great, just fucking great; I was about to become the focal point of the entire facility, and that was exactly the level of inquiry I did not want.

  “Doc, there’s more,” Chance said. “You need to see what’s under her clothes.”

  Not only was I going to shove that stick up his ass, I was also going to twist his head off … slowly.

  “I’m well aware of anatomy,” the doctor said. I could tell she was much more interested on what was going on inside of me rather than out.

  “We can do this one of two ways darling: I can zap the hell out of you until you fall to the ground or you could just lift up your gown,” Chance said. “Jerry, Grant, you want to give me a hand?” Both of the men grabbed sticks.

  I backed up to the far edge of the cell.

  “Your choice,” Chance said as he fed the stick through the bars.

  I grabbed the hem of my hospital garb, there was more than one astonished gasp as I lifted it up. Some was for the distended engorged blackness that was my rapidly failing attempt at a sex change. Most, though, was for the fact that I’d done what he’d asked.

  “She understood? How is that possible?” Multiple people questioning at the same time but that seemed the gist of it.

  Chance had to put an arm out when the doc came up right to the bars. She was looking at my junk.

  “Interesting. I think we can assume this thing believes itself to be a male trapped in a female form and did something to correct that problem. Albeit hastily and with all the finesse of a chainsaw-wielding infant.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I growled at her.

  “A zombie that takes offense. Well missus or mister zombie, when we’re done poking and prodding you for every answer we can get, I’m going to slice your brain up into very thin slices so that I can place them in slides, where I can better understand you. I just want to make sure we are very clear on what is going to happen to you.”

  I rushed the bars she was against, headlong into three electrical sticks, my ass was slammed faster to the ground than Lenny Spindler on the first day of school in the fifth grade. Who the fuck wears garanimals when you’re ten? He deserved it. I had to pay for the calculator that he landed on. Little asshole, twelve bucks when you’re a kid is a lot of money.

  Chapter 10

  When I awoke, I was alone, or at least mostly so. Chance was still there.

  “You all right?” he asked when I sat up.

  He was sitting in a chair looking directly at me, again frustratingly out of range.

  “I brought you some food.” He pointed to a large ham on the floor in front of me. I dug into that thing like it was a pussy and I’d just been released from prison after a five-year stint. I gnawed through the bone. I just ate nearly ten pounds’ worth of food and it barely put a dent in the soul sucking hunger I was feeling.

  Chance waited until I was done before speaking again. Maybe he had said something while I was eating, but there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have heard him.

  “They’re going to start running tests on you tomorrow. They were, umm, afraid that perhaps your, umm, enhancements might intrude with that. Said they were worried about infection or some such.”

  What the fuck was he talking about? I wanted to tell him to just spit it out. I was now well aware of the camera that was recording everything I said and did. Probably had someone monitoring it 24/7 as well. Maybe I should take a big shit. I would too, except I hadn’t eaten enough to do so. Almost everything I’d taken in had gone to working the machine. I just kept looking at him. He stood and began to point to his groin. Then it dawned on me. I thought about not doing it, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. They already knew I was different. I lifted my gown. My penis was once again gone. I wanted to cry out. Just how many times could one lose his man muscle without going fucking insane? This was what? My third time?

  “Maybe they shoved it up your ass. Now wouldn’t that be something,” Scarlett said.

  I wanted to squish her like the parasite on a parasite that she was, but then I got a way better idea. I stepped back, completely back. I arm barred Manny, who was rushing in to fill the void. Scarlett was so befuddled by what was happening, she didn’t notice.

  “Help me! Help me!” she begged Chance. I could have used the same words, but I’m positive I couldn’t have pulled off the desperation she had in her voice. Chance looked up to the camera. He knew someone was watching. Good, all we needed was one person on our side to keep them f
rom cutting us open. “I’m trapped in here!”

  Not sure what Chance was buying into. He looked terrified, truth be told. “Who … who are you?”

  “My name is Scarlett, I’m stuck in my own head with the zombie virus and some sick prick that goes by the name of Timothy.”

  “Stuck … stuck in there?”

  “Could you please get someone that understands this? I have control at the moment, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last! Please, I have kids, for God’s sake!”

  Chance scurried over to the desk and knocked over a mug of coffee and a cup full of pens getting to a switch. “You getting this doc?” he asked into a small speaker set in the wall.

  “I’m on my way. Keep her talking!”

  Chance turned back toward us. He swallowed hard. I think he wanted to make a run for it. Scarlett had clammed up while she waited for the expert. The doctor huffed her way back into the room. By the looks of it, she had been at a full sprint.

  “Don’t get too close.” Chance stopped the doctor.

  “Fascinating, what is your name again?”

  “My name is Scarlett, and it’s not fascinating—it’s terrifying! My body has been hijacked by two insane entities. I’ve been witness to some of the most brutal acts ever performed. You have to help me get my body, myself, back.”

  “How do you propose we do that, Scarlett? If that is indeed your name.”

  “You’re the fucking scientist; you figure it out!”

  “Who are these other two that you share this space with?” I couldn’t tell if the doc was humoring Scarlett or getting on board with the story.

  “The virus is named Manny, or that’s at least what Tim calls him.”

  “Tim?”

  “He’s a psychopath that has somehow found a way to transfer his consciousness with the virus.”

  “Is she talking about the parasite?” Chance asked. The doctor shushed him.

  “This is a very fantastic story, Scarlett. I want to believe you, but we have not seen even a remote trace of humanity in any of the thousands of zombies we have studied. Some of my colleagues mistakenly believe the core of the human is there underneath the virus, but I believe the heat generated by the illness burns out any and all of the last vestiges.”