We hold our ground, letting the zombies move around freely. They don’t have much interest in anything, not even each other. They creep in their own directions, swiveling to avoid collisions when they catch sight of one another but not communicating or cooperating in any clear way.
I start to feel sorry for them. They were real people once, with families, jobs, friends, hopes, dreams. What if some small part of them is still alive in there, if they can sense what they’ve become? How awful would that be?
“Okay,” Josh says. “We’re going to shake things up a bit. Raise your spear.”
I hold it up as Josh instructs, then wave it threateningly at a passing zombie.
The zombie doesn’t react.
“Do it again,” Josh says. “But yell this time.”
I roar at a different zombie–a man–and poke my spear at him, but he ignores me like the first one did.
The other zom heads make threatening gestures too, reacting to instructions. We must each have a separate guide, someone to direct us individually.
“Back up closer to the others,” Josh says. “Form a tighter circle, so the reviveds can’t pass between you.”
I ease back as ordered, until my elbows brush against Danny’s and Gokhan’s. Danny has a chainsaw, Gokhan an ax.
“Exciting, innit?” Gokhan shouts, raising the visor of his helmet to grin at me.
The zombies close to us pause when they hear him shout and they stare at him, eyes wide and gray. “Yeah,” Gokhan jeers. “You didn’t expect me to talk, did you? You don’t understand anything. We’re gonna stomp your ugly arses. I’ll cut your heads off with this ax and scoop out your brains. What do you think of that, eh?”
The zombies carry on walking, oblivious to the threat. Gokhan laughs and lowers his visor.
“Get ready for action,” Josh whispers.
Rage has scorched the ceiling a couple of times, sending flames licking over the heads of the zombies. A couple of them cringed but didn’t otherwise react. Now he lowers his hose, points the nozzle at a thin young woman and lets rip. Fire consumes her and she wheels away from him, screaming hoarsely, arms flapping, head shaking wildly.
The other reviveds come to a standstill. Their heads whip round and all eyes settle on Rage.
“Come on, you bastards,” Rage growls.
As if in direct response to his challenge, they attack.
Instant chaos. Rage sprays the zombies with flames, and so does Tiberius, who has the other flamethrower. But they can’t cover all angles and moments later the zombies are on us, digging at our stomachs with the bones sticking out of their fingers, gnashing at our faces, hissing and screeching.
I jab at a couple of my assailants, driving them back. The other zom heads are going wild. Cathy and Danny’s chainsaws are alive and buzzing. Peder and Gokhan are chopping madly at the zombies, snickering hysterically.
Cathy digs the head of her chainsaw into a man’s stomach and grinds it around. Blood and guts spray everywhere. The man falls away, screaming, a massive hole through his body where his middle should be. But that’s not the end of him. Even though he’s shrieking with agony, he crawls towards us, innards dribbling out and smearing the floor, driven to keep coming by a force beyond his control. His eyes are wild. Blood foams from his lips. He shudders and spasms like someone being electrocuted. But still he comes on.
“My go!” Peder cheers and chops at the man’s neck until he severs it. With a sick laugh, he picks up the head by its hair and waves it around. The man’s mouth is still opening and closing. His eyes still work. His arms still writhe on the now headless body and his legs kick out feebly at nothing.
Peder throws the head across the room and it bounces off a wall. The man’s body somehow struggles to its feet and staggers around, arms flailing, trying to find his head. I’m appalled–if I had a heart, it would go out to the distressed zombie–but the others are having a ball.
“Can I go help him?” Danny yells gleefully. He must receive a positive answer because he breaks away and dashes across the room. Rage and Tiberius cover him, training their fire on the zombies who target him.
Danny grabs the headless body and hauls it over to where the head is lying. He picks up the severed head and sticks it on the neck, but back to front. With a ghoulish giggle, he returns to the ranks and restarts his chainsaw.
I stare with horror as the man swivels several times, trying to work out what’s wrong. Finally his head falls off again. His body bends and his arms search for the missing head. Finding it, he puts it back in place, but the right way round this time. He holds the head in place by crooking an arm over it. With a snarl, he hurls himself back into the action and throws himself at me.
I’m frozen with shock, hardly able to believe the joy with which the zom heads have gone about their cruel business. Reacting instinctively when I’m attacked, I jab at the man’s stomach, but of course there’s nothing there, so my spear passes straight through the hole. Before I can pull it back, he’s on me, eyes wide with crazy rage, teeth snapping together as he tries to chew through my helmet.
“Protect yourself!” Josh shouts.
I shove the man away, but he catches on the spear and doesn’t fall. He bounces back towards me and his head collides with mine. His arm slips and his head falls to the floor, but the force of the collision cracks the glass in my visor. With a shriek of alarm, I push his body away, readjust my grip on my spear, then drive it down into the man’s skull, all the way through his brain.
I lift the spear and the man’s head rises into sight. His lips are trembling and he’s making an awful choking noise. Blood drips from his neck and spatters my gloved hands. His eyes stare at me through the cracked lens of my visor. It might be my imagination, but I think I see fear in his expression.
“Cool!” Cathy exclaims, then sprays the head with flames. The stench of burning flesh and hair fills my nostrils and I gag. If I’d eaten anything recently, I’m sure I’d throw up, but my stomach is empty, so I only dry heave.
“Sod this!” I cry, and throw my spear away.
“Becky,” Josh snaps. “What are you doing?”
Losing all control, I step away from the others and rip loose my helmet, freeing my face.
“Replace that!” Josh yells. “Get back in line!”
In answer I scream wordlessly, a monstrous howl. The world tilts crazily around me. I can’t take this anymore. I want it to stop.
I clamp my hands over my ears and try to shut my eyes. When I remember that I can’t, I scream again and grab the spear. I kick the flaming head off of it, then snap the shaft in two. I point the half with the tip at my eyes, determined to blind myself to this nightmarish spectacle, maybe even dig around, rip out my brain and finish the job that Tyler started all those months ago.
Rage knocks my arm aside. I bring it up to try again but he grabs my hand and forces it down, then wrestles the spear from my fingers and tosses it away.
I curse Rage and swing for him with my fists. Zombies crowd around and tear and snap at us. I feel bones scrape down the back of my exposed neck. I shriek madly and roar them on to success. Rage swears and punches me. My nose pops and blood oozes out. I choke on it, shake my head, scream again.
Then nets start to come down on the zombies. Panels are ripped aside and soldiers fire through the gaps, shooting any revived who isn’t caught. I try to pull free of Rage, to hurl myself into the hail of bullets, wanting to perish along with the zombies, feeling closer to them than to any of these warped, tormenting creeps. This is a savage, dreadful world, and I want out. I wish I’d never been brought back to life. I want to end it, stop it all, get off the moving train.
A net falls around me and I get tangled up. I lash out with both arms, trying to tear free, but the net only tightens further. With another scream, this time born of frustration at being cheated out of the death I crave, I fall to the floor and thrash around weakly, trapped in this living hell, forced to continue by the soldiers and scientists who ga
ther round me once the zombies have all been killed or subdued. They stare at me coldly and listen to me shower them with abuse.
I’m still screaming when a man pushes through the others and crouches next to me. “Stop it, B,” he says softly.
I ignore him, thinking it’s Josh or Dr. Cerveris.
“Stop that,” the man says again. When I don’t, he grabs the netting around my head, ignoring the warning cries of the soldiers, and jerks my face towards his. “Look at me!” he barks.
I try to spit at him but my mouth is too dry.
“Look at me,” the man says again, quieter this time, and something in his tone makes me pause. It’s not Josh or Dr. Cerveris, but his voice is familiar.
Suppressing the scream that was building at the back of my throat, I focus on the light brown face in front of me and gasp. “Mr. Burke?”
“Yes,” he says, then grabs my gloved hand and squeezes reassuringly. “You can relax now. I’m here for you, B.”
I’m so astonished, I can’t say anything else, and I don’t resist as two soldiers haul me to my feet, cut away the net from around my feet, and force me out of the room, Billy Burke–my favorite teacher from school–incredibly, impossibly, following close behind.
TWELVE
I’m in a small room, not much bigger than my cell. Sitting at a desk, arms cuffed behind my back, legs shackled to my chair. Still wearing the leathers. Staring at the table, jaw slack, thinking back to what happened with the zombies, the way I snapped. Wincing at the memory of the man’s burning head, driving my spear through his brain, helping kill him.
Burke and Josh are sitting across from me, waiting, saying nothing. I listen to the hum and crackle of the building. I like it here, away from the zom heads, zombies, all that crap. I’d be happy if they never took me back.
The door opens and Dr. Cerveris steps in. He’s seething. Glares at me as if I’ve insulted his mother. Sits with Burke and Josh on the other side of the table.
“Is she secure?” he snaps.
“Yes,” Josh says.
“You’re certain?”
“We don’t take chances.”
Dr. Cerveris sneers at me. “You’re a very silly girl.”
“Get stuffed,” I snort, and he quivers indignantly. Before he can retort, I lock gazes with Burke. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m a consultant,” he says in a deadpan voice.
I laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. “What happened to being a teacher?”
He smiles thinly. “There isn’t much call for teachers these days. Education has slipped down the list of priorities. That’s what happens when you find yourself caught in the middle of a war with the living dead.”
“Careful,” Josh says warningly. “Don’t forget the restrictions we discussed.”
“Don’t worry,” Burke sighs. “I won’t give away any of your precious secrets, though I don’t see what you gain by withholding information from her.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s grayer than it was six months ago. His eyes are bloodshot, dark bags underneath. He stinks of coffee.
“What was that about in there?” Burke asks me. “Why did you flip?”
“If you’d ever stuck a spear through someone’s head, maybe you’d understand,” I mutter.
“It didn’t bother the others,” Burke says.
“Well, it should,” I snarl. “We were burning and hacking up people. When the hell did that become acceptable?”
“I told you before you went in,” Josh growls. “They’re not people. They’re monsters.”
“No, we’re the monsters. They can’t help themselves. We can.” I face Burke again. “You remember Tyler Bayor?”
He has to think for a moment. “Tyler. Yes. He didn’t make it.”
“That’s because I threw him to the zombies.”
Burke raises an eyebrow and I quickly tell him about my dad coming to rescue me, yelling at me to throw Tyler to the undead when we needed to stall them, the way I obeyed.
“You tried to warn me,” I finish sullenly. “You told me I was in danger of becoming a racist and it would end badly if I didn’t change my ways. I didn’t listen until it was too late. But I’ve thought a lot about it since I came back. I’m trying hard to be a better person in death than I was in life. I’ve been given a second chance, and I don’t want to screw it up.”
“That’s admirable,” Burke says without any hint of condescension. “But I don’t see what it has to do with this.”
“Your kind were all the same to my dad,” I mumble. “Blacks, Arabs, Pakis.” I catch myself and make a face. “Pakistanis. They were something less than us, not worthy of being treated as equals. I knew he was wrong, but I never called him on it. I played along. And me throwing Tyler to the zombies was the result of that.
“The way Dad thought about different races… about you… the way I pretended to believe those things too…” I glance with shame at Mr. Burke, then with spite at Josh and Dr. Cerveris. “It’s how you lot see zombies.”
“It’s hardly the same thing,” Dr. Cerveris protests. “Racists hate for no valid reason, because of the color of a person’s skin or their religious beliefs. Reviveds, on the other hand, are unnatural beasts, savage killers brought back to life by forces beyond our comprehension. They shouldn’t exist. They’ve wreaked irreparable damage and will destroy the world completely if we don’t dissect and study them and figure out what makes them tick.”
“We experiment so that we can learn and understand,” Josh says. “I know it might not seem that way. It could look like torture and execution to a neutral. But there are no neutrals here. It’s us against them, with you and the other revitalizeds caught between. We use the zom heads because you can get closer to the reviveds than we can, test them in ways we can’t. Your input might help restore control of this planet to the living. Zombies are dead. They can’t be cured. Would you rather we let them run free and kill?”
“No,” I scowl. “I understand why you have to stop them, why you lock them up, even why you execute them. But there must be other ways to experiment on them.” I look pleadingly to Burke. “There must be.”
“Of course there are,” Burke says.
“Billy…” Josh growls.
Burke waves away the soldier’s objection. “She’s not a fool. You’re right, B. It is cruel. It’s inhuman. On a moral level it’s unpardonable.” He shrugs wearily. “But we’re at war. That’s not a great excuse, I know. I certainly wouldn’t have let my students get away with it in class if they’d tried to use that argument to justify war crimes. But this is where we’re at. I don’t call the shots and I don’t have the right to pass judgment. So I do what I can to help, even if it means going against everything I once believed in.” He nods at Josh and Dr. Cerveris. “These gentlemen would appreciate it if you would too.”
I shift uncomfortably. “It’s wrong.”
“Yes,” Burke says. “But we’re asking you to cooperate regardless.”
“You were better than that once,” I whisper.
Burke winces, looks away shamefully, doesn’t respond.
“A racist zombie taking the moral high ground,” Dr. Cerveris jeers.
“She’s not a zombie,” Burke snaps.
“Thanks to you,” Josh says softly.
I frown. “What does that mean?”
Burke is looking at Josh, surprised. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to mention that.”
“You weren’t,” Josh says. “But if we tell her, maybe we can get through to her….”
Burke chuckles cynically. “When all else fails, try the truth.” He winks at me. “We don’t know why certain zombies revitalize. It’s a mystery. Based on all the studies we’ve conducted, it shouldn’t happen. The dead lose their senses. Their brains shut down and all traces of their old selves are lost. In damn near all of them, that loss is permanent, no way back.
“But a few of you defy the laws. You recover consciousness and carry on as you did when
you were alive, for however long your bodies hold up.”
“Any idea how long that might be?” I interrupt.
Burke checks with Josh, who frowns, then shrugs. “Why not?” he says with just a hint of dark relish.
“We think–” Burke begins.
“It’s an imprecise science,” Dr. Cerveris cuts in coolly. “We have little evidence to back up our theories. But judging by what we’ve seen, and forecasting as accurately as we can, we anticipate an eighteen- to twenty-four-month life cycle for revitalized specimens.”
“You mean I’ll shut down and die for real within a couple of years?” I gasp.
“Maybe as little as a year,” Josh says. “You’ve been with us for more than six months already, remember.”
“But the revitalization process only kicked in a matter of weeks ago,” Dr. Cerveris reminds him. “We’re not sure if the time before that counts or not.”
“Wait a minute,” I snap. “Are you saying that all of the zombies will be wiped out within the next two years?”
“Sadly, no,” Dr. Cerveris replies. “Only the revitalizeds. The brains of the reviveds are stable, and from what we’ve seen, will remain so, at least in the near future. But when consciousness returns, the brain starts to operate differently. It conflicts with the demands of its undead body and begins to decompose. Unless we can find a way to counteract that–and so far we haven’t had much opportunity to study the phenomenon–the prognosis is grim.”
“So I’ve a couple of years max,” I sigh.
“If they’re right,” Burke says. “They might not be.”
“But we usually are,” Dr. Cerveris smirks.
“That’s not your main worry, though,” Burke says.
I raise an eyebrow. “There’s worse than being told I’ll be worm fodder in a couple of years?”
Burke nods solemnly. “The first revitalizeds didn’t last long. They were isolated once their guards noticed the change in them, but after a week or so, they reverted. Their brains flatlined and they went back to being mindless zombies. No one has ever recovered their mental faculties a second time.”