Zombies Evolved Read online

  After months with no success and increasing public outcry, they changed strategies and worked on ways they might limit the damage caused by the phage virus in death.

  They were somewhat successful in their efforts – rather than creating an anti-virus, they identified a reaction inhibitor that could be mass produced and regularly consumed by the infected to limit the amount of brain damage that occurred during the post-mortem event. As expected, the knowledge to reproduce this drug was protected vigorously by PharmaCom Family lawyers and security personnel.

  The general result of inhibitor testing was mixed – tests showed that the brain damage suffered post-mortem while the infected were on the drug was varied. Some that turned while on the drug suffered from moderate zombie-like impairments, while other unfortunates were almost as impaired as original zombies – depending on oxygen levels during their near-death experience.

  The press created phrases such as “Version 2 Zombies” and “Evolved Zombies” to describe the post-event infected that were studied – this terminology easily superseded the more scientifically accurate “infected post-mortem living humans” in general conversation. They were still considered by most (with some notable exceptions) to be human, but they are missing several traits associated with humanity.

  Evolved zombies have fewer emotions and greater primal urges than average humans. They can still speak and reason, learn and recognize, plan and co-ordinate. They can remember what they did as humans, but can’t always understand the motivations for their behavior. They have a sharp sense of humor, without the social filter that people are generally conditioned to put in place. They can become aggressive when hungry and violent when aroused or scared. Many evolved zombies are affected in somewhat unique ways. Some of them were closer in behavior to the original zombies than most people suspected or hoped.

  Despite the drug’s imperfections, this was considered a vast improvement by countries with growing infected populations – many of whom were among the rich, political, and influential elite. The z-virus inhibitor (popularly known as the zombie-inhibitor drug) was fast-tracked and first made available to large populations of infected in 2015 – at a reasonable cost.

  Five years later, by 2020, an estimated 19% of the human population was thought to be infected with the Zachman-virus, and 3% of the population have had at least one “near-death experience” that turned them into evolved zombies, or “humans with a reduced capacity for empathy”, as one perceptive journalist described them.

  Evolved zombies now live and work with normal humans, and the infected that have yet to turn. Effectively, zombies and the infected have introduced new socio-economic classes for society to deal with – with behaviors far from norm. Most of polite society isn’t adequately prepared.

  Some political theorists have suggested that the effective health benefits of the z-virus – plus the significant commercial interests behind the zombie-inhibitor drug – aren’t creating sufficient motivation for humanity to act in its own defense. Like the frog in a gradually boiling pot of water, we don’t fear what is yet to come.

  Plus, post-mortem living humans have rights too.

  Chapter One – Prescription

  Monday June 21, 2021 – Seattle, WA

  I meet my new partner today. She’s a zombie.

  Hey, don’t get me wrong – my last partner was a zombie too. He was a pretty cool guy. He took too many risks though, and his behavior caught up with him. Early retirement, the wrong kind.

  My name is Rob Stack, and I work with the Infected Affairs Bureau of the Seattle Police – known to cops as the IAB and most citizens as “Zombie Relations”.

  Seattle’s response to the increasing level of “post-mortem living” was not unlike other cities – to create a special police department trained to handle zombie crimes and hostile zombie/human interactions.

  You see, regular cops aren’t trained to understand or handle the zombie psyche. Once the cops arrived, most incidents involving zombies would turn bad, quickly. If zombies were the only ones involved, this result might have been overlooked. But many zombie incidents the cops get called for are domestic, and often humans are involved. When normal humans get hurt during police business – citizens take action.

  The motives for zombies are different. Special training and zombie experience significantly helps with zombie crime investigations. Following traditional human motives sends untrained cops in the wrong directions.

  Unlike other cops, teams in IAB handle all kinds of situations: domestic abuse, sexual assault, robbery, theft, narcotics, and even homicide and major crimes. Our informal motto is, “we go where the zombies take us.”

  Quite often, this puts us into conflict with the cops that normally handle criminal investigations and narcotics. They are often put in a “support role” when zombie involvement is determined, and we take the lead – based on case load and the decision of our captain.

  What’s the best way for cops to learn the zombie psyche and gain working experience? After our twelve week zombie psychology training course, it comes through interacting with zombies every day. Each team in our unit is made up of a human/zombie pair. In case you’re slow and haven’t figured it out yet, this means I’m human.

  There aren’t many zombie cops around – and young zombie cops are practically non-existent – hence we’re a small unit. Unfortunately, it seems that zombies are becoming a bigger source of criminal activity than their per-capita numbers. The bureau is growing about as fast as we can find new zombie cops.

  It’s time to meet my new zombie.

  “Detective Stack, meet your new partner Detective Dana Light.” Captain McDowell grimaced noticeably as he said her name. He’s usually much more charming than this.

  I don’t think they got off on the right foot this morning, before I arrived. The captain is human, and although he works with zombie cops all the time, he can be turned off by their lack of kindness and compassion in conversation. He’s the kind of boss a cop can depend on – and I trust his instincts.

  “Great to meet you Detective,” I nod to her, and then turn to address the captain. “How was your weekend Captain? Are your daughters still out of control?” I hate to see him grumpy – he’s a good man.

  McDowell ignores my questions with a barely visible smile, and turns away. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “I read your Zachman profile, says you’re a level five. You’re practically human.”

  “I’m still human, Detective”, she replies. “Just because I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel doesn’t take my human status away.”

  “Hmm, we’ll see,” I comment. “Let me introduce you to the drug operation we’re investigating.”

  “I’ve read the files. You can tell me more as we go.” She pauses, and says in a caring voice, “Rob, I’m sorry to hear about your partner Steve.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Hearing his name reminds me that he died while we were working this case. I really miss him. Steve was a great partner and a true friend.

  “Okay, if you’re ready – it looks like we have a warehouse to investigate.”

  We take my car. I’ve learned not to let zombies drive that often – they can get worked-up easily by bad drivers around them. We have a lot of those in Seattle.

  Her watch alarm beeps at 9am, and she unwraps and eats a protein bar while we drive. Zombies need to eat regularly, or they can become irate or unfocused.

  “Tell me about this warehouse“, she asks.

  “It’s been abandoned for a year or two – no buyers in this market. Steve and I suspected that the drugs are being made downtown, close to Harbor Island Marina.”

  “Your report suggested they’ve been making and selling,” she pauses as if confused, “speedballs?”

  “Yeah, we believe that zombies prefer the combination of cocaine and heroin to feel the full effect with their brain dam-, uh, medical condition.”

  “I get it, go on.”

&nb
sp; “Steve got a lead on a commercial shipment arriving. We suspect it has hidden drugs, and we have a team placed to follow any suspicious characters that arrive for a small pick-up. You know – anything smaller than an 18-wheeler.

  “I received a call this morning with an address for us. Apparently a van arrived, and they followed it to this warehouse. They suspect the van evaded them by leaving through another exit.”

  They had already checked the plates. The van was stolen.

  “I hope they didn’t get made,” Dana suggests, “or we’re going to an empty warehouse.”

  I’m a little surprised by her comment. She doesn’t talk like a rookie cop – I thought she was with the department for only two years.

  “Yeah – that’s a possibility.” I want to learn more about her. “Tell me your story, Dana.”

  “Well, let’s see. I was a civil servant for a long time, went back to school as the kids got older, and then became a paralegal with the D.A.’s office in San Diego. Did that for about five years.”

  “Sounds like a great background for a cop.” I’m impressed; most cops only get their legal training through the department and life experience.

  “It’s been helpful, I guess. They allowed me to take the detective’s exam after a year.”

  And join the IAB, which needs more detective zombie cops. I can see why the bureaucrats would find a loophole for a zombie like Dana. She is relatively young – for a zombie – and has legal experience that will come in handy fighting fifteen different types of crime.

  “How did you turn?” I ask. It is a pretty direct question, but zombies don’t get hung up on formalities, and they don’t require small talk before moving on to important topics.

  “I’ve been a zombie for almost two years, as you’ve seen from my profile.” She takes a deep breath. “Apparently I had a heart attack in my sleep, and I woke up in the middle of the night – turned.”

  I do not interrupt her – she continues.

  “I’m pretty sure I caught the z-virus from my husband, John. He’s had cancer for the last few years. He went overseas for work, and was treated while abroad. He didn’t tell me at the time, though I would have supported him in his decision. I found out I was infected at my annual checkup.”

  John’s story is pretty common these days. Many doctors unofficially inform their patients of the benefits of the z-virus if they have heart disease, cancer, or have suffered a stroke. Of course you can get infected here in the US – but as the virus is considered an illegal substance (outside the body) you’d have to deal with some shady characters to do it.

  Several countries still have the original anti-aging product for sale. It’s a criminal activity to sell it, but many of the people involved aren’t like the career criminals trading z in the US. Web sites selling it even show up once in a while before they are found and shut down.

  “What does your family think about your condition?” Again, I ask a direct question that a zombie won’t mind.

  “My three kids aren’t sure what to think. I became a mom at a very young age. They are all adults – two of them have started families. John feels very guilty – he still doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “Are they still in California?” Mr. Tactful.

  “Yes. I decided to give John and the kids and grandkids some space and time to deal with it, and moved to Seattle to join the Police shortly after turning. I’m finding it’s much easier to talk to them through email – in person they aren’t used to how I’ve changed.”

  We stop at a red light, so I take a moment to look Dana over while scanning the area. She is a good looking woman, in great athletic shape, with healthy curves. She looks to be in her early forties – which is quite young for the average zombie. She seems to have great taste in clothes, and she hasn’t forgotten to use deodorant or perfume like some that have turned.

  Her eyes are blue – a little paler than average. This is likely a result of turning. Her skin tone seems normal. As expected for a cop, she wears the tattoo of the infected on her right wrist.

  Shortly afterwards we arrive at the warehouse and check in with the on-site team.

  “Hey Rob, who’s the new partner?”

  She jumps in before I can answer. “I’m Dana Light. Good to meet you.”

  “I’m Mac, this is Jake. He’s the zombie.”

  “I can tell,” Dana answers. “Hi Jake. Hi Mac.”

  Mac was briefly stunned. “What, can zombies smell each other or something? Jake – why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Not quite.” Dana is being evasive in her answer. I’ll have to ask her about it later.

  I interrupt to change the conversation. “What’s your recommended approach here guys?”

  Jake chimes in, “we haven’t seen much activity while we’ve been waiting for you. To cover the bases we should go around the other side and catch anyone leaving in a hurry.”

  “Sounds good. Give us a call when you’re in position.” Dana and I look around outside while we wait.

  There is a small gang of older male teenagers hanging out, not far away. They seem to be paying too much attention, so I work my way over.

  As I get closer, one of the teenagers approaches. He is wearing a red hoodie and black jeans. He stumbles a little as he walks. I think he might be drunk, but this early in the morning?

  He comes a little too close – ever hear of personal space? “Yo brother, can you spare some coin?” I can smell that that he hasn’t showered in days. Great.

  Without me noticing, Dana has caught up behind me. “Go back to your pack, mind your business.” She practically sneers at him. I haven’t seen her nasty side yet – I’m taken aback.

  Not to be discouraged, the teenager ignores me and looks closely at Dana, pausing before he speaks. “Hey sweetie, what’cha hanging out with this stiff for; want to party with some real men?” He nods towards his friends.

  Dana growls. “Not on your life, misfit,” she starts towards him.

  I step in the way. “Okay, it’s time for us to head back to the car. Let’s leave the boys alone.” I emphasize the word ‘boys’ in an attempt to bring her back from her anger. I hold her elbow and turn us both away from the teen. With a zombie, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ always helps. She struggles against me, but only briefly – remembering that we’re partners, I hope. Her temper fades almost as quickly as it started.

  The teen ignores us and goes back to his friends.

  We walk a moment, and Dana turns to look at me. “I think he’s a zombie. I’m pretty sure he’s a zombie.”

  “The kid? How would you know he’s a zombie?” I still want to know how she guessed that Jake is a zombie.

  “Well, when men look at a woman like me – we notice things about their behavior.” I start to become flustered. She continues, “Most men are discreet when they look. Like you were, earlier in the car.”

  I stammer a few half words, briefly.

  “Don’t worry about it – happens all the time. That kid, like Jake, wasn’t discreet about staring. Instead of a brief glance or two, they spent a few seconds leering. The look in their eyes was unmistakable.”

  “He’s a teenage boy. That’s all he thinks about.”

  “Yeah, but even teenage boys learn not to stare, or they get embarrassed when caught – like you just were. I looked that boy right in the eye after he ogled me, and he practically smiled.”

  “I don’t know. A teenager – how would a teenager become a zombie?”

  “It’s been known to happen. Maybe suicide or an overdose.”

  There have been a few instances of people becoming zombies after committing suicide – with drugs, not a knife. Suicides are usually younger, and the infected are usually older – so it is rare, but not unheard of. Perhaps she is right about the boy. I still have my doubts.

  My phone rings, it is Mac.

  “They’re in position; it’s time to head in.”

  We position ourselves outside the main door, ne
xt to the garage. We each bring out our weapons, peek through the door, and head on in for cover.

  It is well lit inside – the morning sun is coming in through the many windows in the building. There are a few rooms around the periphery of the warehouse – by the front and back. The remaining area in-between is open warehouse. It is empty – except for a car toward the back of the building, a black Taurus. Someone is still here.

  I call out. “Attention warehouse dwellers, this is the police. Come on out. We’re not here for you – we’re just here to look around.”

  There is no answer, but I can hear movement in the offices by the front. I motion to Dana that we should investigate. She noticed the sounds too.

  We creep over slowly – who knows how many people are in here. I radio Jake and Mac. “We’ve got one car in here, and at least one person by the front. Stand by for support.”

  “Roger, Rob. Keep us posted.”

  I approach the door to the front offices, with Dana covering me.

  “This is the police. Please come out of the office. We’re just here to talk.” I don’t want to get into anything more exciting than a discussion today.

  “Screw you cop – mind your own business!”

  Sigh. “Come on out. We’re here on police business.”

  “You don’t have a warrant!” Okay, he’s using logic on me.

  “We don’t need a warrant – we have the owner’s approval to be here. I repeat, please come out of the office. We just want to talk.”

  “Well I’m the owner, and I say get the fuck out of here, cop!” His voice cracks a little as he speaks. Is this a kid? I hope this isn’t a kid.

  “We aren’t going anywhere. Please calm down. We just want to talk.” I’m running out of things to say.

  He starts to shout some more. “I’m not leaving and you better not come in here!” Just as he finishes, someone rounds the outside corner of the office holding a gun. While moving, he shoots towards me wildly. He gets off two shots. One shot goes into the wall behind me, another into the dirt. A little too close for comfort.

  The logical shouter is trying to distract me, I realize. I turn towards the shooter, and aim for his legs. I know I should ‘shoot to stop’ – which means to hit him in the torso – but I need a lead.