Zombie Chick, page 4
“I can’t imagine any place with you in it is a romantic hot spot. Or any woman that would willingly be seen in public with you,” said Agent Homes.
“You are. On a regular basis, I might add.”
“But not by choice.”
“So. What is the scan telling us, Techno-b-boy?” Agent Dave addressed the MRI technician, deftly changing the subject.
“Well, Agents, so far it’s telling me that the superstructures are structural, the undercarriage is underneath, the coverings are sufficient to the ambulation of the permutations for the nasality of reality.”
“Why is it that you can’t ever just say, I got nothing?” Agent Homes asked, irritated.
“You know how much he likes the big words.” The tech said, winking at Agent Dave.
“You know me only too well, Techno-b-boy. Call me later and you can big word me some more.”
“I’m beginning to see why you couldn’t pick up ladies at charm school.”
“What? I’m just a friendly guy. This scan’s going to be awhile, so why don’t we go check out the zom’s apartment?”
Unster’s Apartment
“Well, Agent Dave, I’m seeing even less evidence of anything to do with zombies than what we found at the stork guy’s place. Nothing even remotely related.”
“Who in their right mind would have the complete DVD collection of the Fireplace channel? I didn’t even know that there was a fifteen DVD set,” said Agent Dave in wonderment.
“The fluffy kitten sweaters are, well, there’s a lot of them. All the piercings and the tattoo are not adding up here. There’s something seriously weird going on.”
“What? As opposed to dead people coming back to life and wiping out the living? Weirder than that? Hard to top that. What about the pink hair?”
Agent Homes came out of one of the bedrooms. She held up a pair of pink stuffed unicorns. “Matchy-matchy? It’s the same shade. I bet forensics will find it’s the same dye.”
“Well, hello. I wonder who these belong to?” asked Agent Dave, while staring into the closet in the other bedroom.
“That’s a good question,” said Homes as she picked through the neatly hung men’s suits.
“What sort of man would live in a pink apartment?” asked Agent Dave, horrified.
“What’s wrong with pink?”
“Nothing. So long as it’s a manly shade. But this? Cotton candy number two? Ridiculous.”
“The fact that you know the exact shade speaks volumes, Agent Dave. Volumes.”
“Have the CSIs been here yet?”
“Oh, yes. They’ve got video, pics, samples, everything.”
“Was it the team with that Miami guy?” Agent Dave asked darkly.
Special Agent Homes sighed. “I told you yesterday, they are on another assignment.”
The Doctor
“Well, well, well. Dr. Marten. How have my staff been treating you?” asked Agent Orange as Dr. Marten entered the room.
“Fine. No complaints after the totally, completely, unnecessary and overzealous Tasering by Special Agent Homes. Nothing like a good shock to get the drool flowing in the morning.”
“Sorry. She’s got a bit of a twitchy trigger finger. Great for zombies. Witnesses? Not so much. Everyone else gets to carry live rounds. Anyway, what can you tell me about our zombie friend?” Agent Orange asked while staring at Dr. Marten’s unibrow. He found it hypnotizing, and even though he knew it was rude, he simply could not look away.
“Problem?” asked Dr. Marten.
“Uh, no. Sorry.” Agent Orange blinked, looking away. He picked up a pen to take notes. “Now, what can you tell me?”
Dr. Marten sighed. “As I’ve already explained, while you were so... fascinated, I didn’t realize the patient was not fully deceased and ambulatory. I’m not sure how a marginally live person would even be able to get into my drawers. There are stringent procedures to prevent that from happening.”
“Well, we are looking into the matter. Wait. What do you mean ‘not fully deceased’ and ‘marginally live’?”
“I don’t think she’s the zombie you’re looking for.” Dr. Marten said with a smirk while waving his fingers at Agent Orange.
“Ha-ha. Very funny, Dr. Woo-woo. Your student, one Steve ‘Storky’ Roberts, seemed positive she was a full-fledged zombie.”
“I know, but he’s wrong. Oh, she is certainly mostly dead, but I think she is something quite different than what you’ve been expecting.”
“How do you know?”
Dr. Marten shrugged. “Just a hunch really.”
“Well. How very interesting,” said Agent Orange as he leaned back in his chair and steepling his fingers.
Unster’s Place
“Wake up Unster.” Marge’s voice said from somewhere in the dark.
I opened my eyes. This time to a soft red light in a warm shadowy room. Finally! No bright lights shining in my face. I tried to move and found that I could. I was no longer firmly attached to a gurney. In fact, I was lying on a couch and completely unrestrained.
“Where am I?”
“You are in the secure holding facility of the Zombie Horde Prevention Task Force Headquarters.” Came the reply in Marge’s soothing tones. “You will stay here for the foreseeable future, for the safety of yourself and those around you.”
“I’m a prisoner, you mean.”
“Quarantine.” reiterated Marge firmly. “You may be carrying a virus. You don’t seem like the type to go around making people sick to me. I’m going to turn the lights up now.”
The lights slowly came up. I was in a reasonably sized room, set up like an apartment. There was an awful lot of pink and stuffed animals. I looked around and felt vague déjà vu, but had no idea why.
“There’s a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms and, of course, a bathroom. We’ve done what we can to make you as comfortable as possible. There’s some clothing in one of the bedroom closets for you as well.”
Checking out the closet in the first bedroom, I found nothing but sweatpants and oversized kitten sweaters. They were ugly but looked comfy. I dressed clumsily in a pair of pink sweatpants and a kitten sweater that had glitter and googly eyes on it. There was a pink feather boa draped over the door. I stuffed this into one of the drawers, out of sight. It was far and away, past my comfort zone. I mean, the pink alone was pretty risqué for me. I prefer less exciting colours, like beige and grey.
A doorbell rang. “What’s with the doorbell in prison?”
“I told you, it’s quarantine, not prison,” Marge said, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.
“So, I can leave anytime I want?”
“Well, no.”
“Prison.”
I opened the door to the heavenly smell of fresh French fries.
Storky Brings Lunch
Unster opened the door, and Storky stared. She had gotten dressed and was wearing a pink kitten sweater with googly eyes. He thrust the carton of fries at her. He looked around the apartment as she led him in.
“So. This is your place. Mine’s completely different. And I have bunk beds. Me and the other guys are sharing our domicile. Dorm style. I’m supposed to bring you to the conference room. Uh. Maybe you should change your sweater first though.” He said, motioning to her outfit and trying not to look.
“What? Oh, no there’s nothing wrong with the colour.” Storky said, replying to a questioning grunt from Unster. “Although if you fell on the floor, I would never be able to find you.”
Unster shrugged and went out the door. Storky followed her. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered under his breath.
They went through a few corridors to the conference room. It took a while since Unster’s only gait was zombie walk. “You must be getting better. You seem a lot faster.”
Unster grunted.
“I never thought of that. It is a lot warmer here.” Storky opened the double doors, and they went in. Ned and Janice were already there.
“That’s quite a sweater,” said Ned.
Unster shrugged. The mouthful of pastry Ned had just bitten off fell on the floor.
“Um, maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore,” said Storky.
Janice looked up and saw Unster, then she noticed Ned. She smacked him on the back of the head with the file folder that had been on the table in front of her. “Stop staring.”
“I can’t help it. They keep following me. It’s the way they jiggle. I’m genetically programmed to stare at things that jiggle. Especially when there’s two of them.”
Unster suddenly realized what they were talking about and clamped her hands over the googly eyes. She growled.
“Get out, both of you!” Janice commanded.
Both guys left the room and shut the doors. Janice sighed. “Why would you wear that? Come here, I’ll help you fix it.”
Between the two of them, they got Unster’s sweater turned around so the mesmerizing kitten was on the back.
“Well, that’s better. You can come back in now.” Janice yelled through the door.
Jock came in with the others. “Can’t someone help her get dressed?” He asked, pointing at Unster. “Her sweater’s on backwards.”
The Meeting
“Now that everyone is here, we’re going to go through orientation and safety rules. But before we get started, Marge is going to fit Unster with a translator. It should make things easier for all of us.” said Agent Homes.
Marge attached a small grey box to Unster’s throat and fiddled with it. “That should do it. Say something.”
“Hi. Thanks!” said Unster.
The techs and Special Agents that were in the conference room were all wearing special Kevlar hazmat suits with faceplates made from bulletproof glass. No one was taking any chance of getting infected.
“As you can see,” Agent Homes said, motioning to the techs, “We are taking things seriously and exercising every precaution to contain this. You five are not being kept in isolation or in suits since you’ve already been exposed for twenty-four hours. However, you are being kept in quarantine to keep you from exposing the general population.”
“Not that I don’t like Unster,” Ned said, “But why isn’t she in isolation? Away from the rest of us? Aren’t you afraid she’ll attack us?”
“She doesn’t appear to be dangerous. And there are highly trained armed guards posted at regular intervals in this facility, doing regular, random patrols. This quarantine unit is quite safe. There are other precautions built-in for safety as well.” said Agent Homes.
“How long is this quarantine?” asked Jock. “I’ve had to cancel my appointment at The Hair Club. Do you have any idea how long the waiting list is?”
“Until I say so. That’s how long,” said Agent Dave.
“I see. Very definitive. Loaded with pertinent and succinct information. A veritable cornucopia of wisdom.” Janice quipped.
“Now, everyone here will be assigned a training schedule in the gym. We expect you to be on time for all appointments. All of you are expected to take part in all medical testing, particularly the daily blood test.”
Jock raised his hand. “I faint at the sight of blood.”
One of the techs sniggered, and Agent Dave rolled his eyes. “How are you people even in med school?”
Agent Homes cleared her throat. “It’s only a couple of drops. Relax, you can look away. We have all of your medical records from before this unfortunate incident, so we will be able to compare test results and detect any changes immediately. Meals will be taken in the cafeteria. Since Dr. Marten was your leader during the school lockdown and assigned you to workgroups, we will continue with that same format. Your schoolwork will be forwarded to the lab and classroom that we have on-site, so if it turns out that none of you are infected, you will be able to return to school and not miss your year.”
“What are the chances of that?” asked Jock.
“None,” said Storky. “Any zombie literature or other media will tell you that.”
“Yes, well, there’s always a first time for everything. No one’s ever seen a French fry zombie before, have they, Mr. Smarty Pants?” countered Agent Dave.
“Now, if you will excuse us, Agent Dave and I, we must be off. We’ll leave you in Marge’s capable hands to take you on the tour of the quarantine facility and show you how things work,” said Agent Homes.
Dr. Marten grinned at Jock and waggled his feet at him before getting up to follow Marge out of the room. Jock turned green and tagged along behind.
The Tour
The tour group followed Marge out of the conference room and back into the corridors. She pointed to the hallway that led to the living quarters.
“Unster’s apartment is the first on the left. Janice’s is next to it. The boys’ dorm takes up the entire right side and Dr. Marten’s suite is at the end. Down this corridor is the cafeteria, the gym, the lab and the offices and the classroom is across the hall from the conference room.” Marge turned in the cafeteria's direction.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Janice, as they crowded through the door into the cafeteria. “Are you sure this is the cafeteria? It’s amazing! I could live here forever!” Not one person commented on the irony of her statement.
The cafeteria was set up like a cozy pub. There was a large harvest table, big enough for the entire group to sit around comfortably in the middle of the room, and various small tables, chairs, couches and armchairs were scattered around and set into alcoves and reading nooks. There were books on the shelves and the general atmosphere was comfortable and relaxing.
“I must confess, I was expecting something much more clinical and practical. This is very nice.” Dr. Marten said.
“I’ll show you how it works. This button here, the one marked ‘menu’ will show the day’s menu options on this board, over here.” Marge pressed the button. A board lit up on one wall. “Using the number pad here, you will select your option. Then, you will retrieve your freshly made item from this area here.”
She walked over to the wall where a large drawer was located. After a few moments, there was a chime. She opened the drawer to remove the fresh French fries, which she passed over to Unster, making a mental note to include a test for fry consumption for Unster. To see if there were upper and lower limits of consumption.
After Unster finished, which didn’t take very long, Marge directed them to the other drawer. “All used containers and utensils are to be deposited here for safe disposal.”
“Which is?” asked Storky, although he had already guessed the answer.
“Incineration,” replied Marge. “Our virologist, Vernon, claims viruses can’t survive fire.”
Marge led everyone back out into the corridor, across from the cafeteria. She pulled the door open into the gymnasium.
“Why do all the doors pull open? Seems weird. Any other government building I’ve ever been in, the doors push open.” said Janice.
“Zombies always push. They never pull doors open, so the theory is that they will push the doors, piling up, creating a natural barricade. Basic zombie drawback, if you’re a zombie. No offence, Unster.” explained Storky.
“What do you mean?” asked Unster. “I know how to pull the door open.” She said, demonstrating.
“You’re not a regular zombie, though. You’re special.”
“Oh, like, gag me with a spoon,” Janice said, making a face.
Now that the group had entered the gymnasium, they all stared in amazement.
“Wow.” Jock whistled.
Ned strolled around, touching equipment. “What’s with all the axes and stuff?”
“You will train for zombie combat as well as continuing your studies and other activities. You will not be bored during your stay; I can assure you,” said Marge. “You will learn the axe, chainsaw, machete, frying pan mace, flame thrower, in several iterations, weapons of opportunity, wrestling, kung fu, yoga, running and figure skating.”
“Cool!” said Storky. “This is going to be great. A dream come true. Are we starting right away?”
“Weird dream. Sounds like boot camp. Will there be sweating?” asked Janice.
“I don’t have to watch Neckro Boy do yoga in tights, do I? I think I’ve mentioned I’m squeamish?” said Jock.
“Hey! Will there be hide and seek?” asked Ned.
“I don’t have to wrestle Ned, do I?” asked Unster.
“Did you say figure skating?” asked Dr. Marten.
“Yes, to all of your questions. You will meet your instructor, Agent Gladys Mumu when you have your first class. I strongly recommend that you take her seriously.” said Marge, leading them onto their next stop, the lab.
“This is more like it,” said Dr. Marten. “Shiny, sterile, medical. My kind of place.” He happily ran his fingers along one of the stainless-steel countertops.
They all went into the lab and looked around. Unster was more than a little unsettled to notice that the centrepiece was a steel table with restraints attached.
“What’s that for?” she asked, clearly alarmed, her voice sounding faintly buzzy from the translator.
“Emergencies. Or specimens. We are prepared for every eventuality that a zombie apocalypse could possibly entail.” Marge told her.
“What about power outages?” asked Ned.
“Geothermal generators,” Marge said, just a little smugly.
“How about food?” asked Dr. Marten.
“Hydroponic farm,” replied Marge.
“How many levels are we down?” asked Storky.
“What do you mean?” asked Janice.
“It only makes sense to bury the research as deeply as possible. Ever see a zombie movie? The lab is always underground, the further, the better to contain the contagion.”
