Zombies! (Episode 7): Conflicts of Interest

Zombies! Episode 7 - Conflicts of Interest

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by Ivan Turner

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***

What has come before?

Working on a secret government project, British geneticist Dr. Rudolph Ludlow created a bacterium that inadvertently turned his test subjects into zombies. Immediately cancelling the project and destroying all of the samples, he thought he had put the whole thing behind him. But, he had become an unwitting carrier of the disease and transmitted it to an American woman during an unexpected affair. She brought the disease back to New York and gave it to her family.

As the infection spread around the city, it began to affect the lives of its people. Detective Anthony Heron was forced to watch his partner, Johan Stemmy, deteriorate as the victim of the disease. In order to prevent him from becoming a zombie himself, Heron had shot his friend in the head.

Abby Benjamin had been trapped in the emergency room of a hospital by zombies and fought for her life. Though she had survived that day, she had watched several others die and the trauma had left her scarred in ways she didn't even realize. Also a victim of that same day, Dr. Peter Ventura learned to strike out on his own to combat the zombie plague. His first action was to take the life of an infected child, Jason Benford. Later, he and Jason's mother Melissa started a movement to combat the Zombie Rights Association, a group of people who believed that zombies were people and deserved the same rights. They recruited Abby to their cause.

Bitten by his zombie girlfriend, John Arrick contracted and miraculously survived the zombie plague. As an unforeseen side effect, the zombies no longer considered him as food. They ignored him as they ignored each other. Hearing about zombie fights, Arrick thought to go and make money as a fighter. Marcus, the man who ran the fights, saw Arrick as a tremendous asset, someone who could find and keep their stock of zombies with no danger to himself. Arrick accepted the job and the money that went with it.

***

JOHN
Arrick was in mid sentence when the bell rang and the students started getting out of their seats and heading toward the door. He had been talking, just talking, his mind drifting elsewhere. That was the good thing about teaching the same thing he had been teaching for years. When he needed it, it came automatically. He could fill time with words and never even notice the tick of the clock. The kids could text each other, fall asleep, pack up their things, or whatever and it didn't faze him. But the bell always brought him out of the daze. Frantically, he tried to remember if there was anything important that he needed to tell his class. But half of them were gone before he could file through all of the information so he just left it. What was one more day for the announcement of a quiz? They wouldn't crack a book until the night before anyway.

When the room was empty, Arrick sank into the wooden desk chair and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. He hadn't gotten much sleep during the week because he'd spent every night up at Marcus' arena in the Bronx. During his nights, he was elbow deep into the zombies, shuffling them around and preparing them for the fights during the coming weekend. Four days with Marcus and he already felt as if he'd been doing it forever. He was growing accustomed to their funny odor, an odor that he was sure smelled different to others. It was one of the side effects of having recovered from the zombie plague. The other was the fact that the zombies didn't seem to have any interest in him as food.

Arrick had discovered that during a chance encounter with zombies at a deli the week before. Buoyed by the fact that he had survived the plague, he had chosen to confront a zombie that was threatening the people inside. It had paid him no attention until he had gotten in between it and its prospective meal. Even then, though it had fought with him, it had shown no interest in biting him. The only explanation for it was that the bacterium that caused the infection was either still present in his body or had altered him in such a way that the zombies regarded him as one of their own. Fortunately, the effect went unnoticed by the living. But his ability to walk among the undead had earned him the position of zombie keeper for the weekend fights. It wasn't a particularly glamorous job, but the money was good.

For four days, he'd held that job, and found himself completely lost in thought ever since. The subject of zombies was the only thing on which he could concentrate. The movies made them look so simple. They were dead. They were dangerous. Destroy them or be eaten. But the world was more complicated than the movies. They were dead, yes. They were dangerous, for sure. But he wasn't going to be eaten and destroying them was beginning to seem…disrespectful.

Saturday night, Arrick had gone to the fights with the intention of beating some zombies to death and making some money. Before him, a man who'd called himself Jeremiah had gone into the ring and
allowed
himself to be eaten by the zombies. Four days later, Arrick still wasn't sure of the point. Jeremiah had spoken of the zombies as if they were people, clearly a member or supporter of the
Zombie Rights Association.
After the display, Arrick had been unable to fight. He just couldn't see himself smashing the heads of the defenseless creatures. They may have been dead humans, but they were still
something
! Still, when Marcus had offered him the position of keeper, he'd taken it for two reasons. The first was that he was bored, bored with his life and bored with who he was. The second was that he was afraid not to.

The boredom was gone. But it had been replaced by something far worse. As if the dilemma he faced regarding the zombies hadn't been bad enough, he had yesterday discovered one of his students, Shawn Rudd, locked in a room with a bloody bandage around his middle. Shawn had been weak, unable to say much. But what he had said was enough. If only Arrick could figure out what to do.

After a few moments he pulled his phone from his pocket and, with shaky hands, thumbed down his list of contacts. Engaging the phone, he breathed in and waited through the rings.

"Hello?"

It was dinnertime in London. "Hello, Malcolm."

"Johnny!" his brother cried exuberantly. "This is a surprise. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I am," Arrick confirmed. "But I need your help."

"Johnny, what's wrong?"

Arrick breathed, knowing he would have to tell Malcolm everything he had done. He found himself ashamed. "Do you remember Suzanna, the girl I told you about over the summer?"

"Sure thing. Quite a lass if the pictures don't lie."

"She's dead, Malcolm. She got the plague."

Malcolm was silent for a moment, just breathing. Arrick's brother was not a man of many words. His insensitivity was legendary among his friends and ran in strict contradiction to the size of his heart.

"Are you okay, Johnny?" he asked finally.

"I was with her when she turned, Malcolm. She tried to…she bit me."

"Johnny…no…" Over the phone and the miles, Arrick heard his brother sob.

"Malcolm, wait, there's more. That was weeks ago."

Malcolm calmed his breathing, tried to steady his voice. "I don't understand, Johnny. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I got the plague, too, but I somehow managed to…get better. My body beat it."

Malcolm was silent again but this time for only a moment. Then he began to laugh. Not just laugh but he broke out into full on hysterics. It took several minutes for him to get control of himself and Arrick was watching those minutes. The time of his next class would come upon him quickly and he desperately needed Malcolm's advice.

"Please," he said to his brother. "I need your help, Malcolm. I don't know what to do."

"Johnny, if you really beat this thing then you're a bleeding super hero. What did the doctors say?"

"I never saw a doctor."

"What?" The last of the laughter died in Malcolm's throat. "You have to see a doctor. You could be carrying the cure inside of you."

"I know. I've thought of that and I thought of being a guinea pig and I just couldn't get myself to go."

"You'd damned well better go," Malcolm said sternly. "You've got an obligation."

"I think I'm changed, Malcolm. The way I feel about things is different. Also, the zombies ignore me."

"You mean you've seen more of them?"

Arrick nodded, then realized how ridiculous it was to nod to someone on the other end of the phone. "Yes. There's this place where some guys have arranged matches between regular people and zombies. There's a lot of money to be made so I went to fight. Well, I couldn't do it but everyone could see that the zombies didn't have any interest in me so the guy who runs the fights gave me a job as sort of a zoo keeper."

"Wait, Johnny. Wait. You're going too fast. Did you take this job?"

"Malcolm, you don't know what my life is like."

Malcolm's voice became very disapproving. "And I don't care. Are you my little brother or some tin shit who'll slice granny's throat for a quid? Did you call me to get my approval?"

"No," Arrick said quietly.

"I bet not. What you need, Johnny boy is a good kick in the arse and I've a mind to cross the ocean and give it to you."

"You don't have to do that, Malcolm. I know you're right and I'll take care of it. I'll take care of everything."

"You'd bleeding well better," Malcolm said. Then he softened. "I love you, Johnny. I want you to be safe and well."

"I know," Arrick said through tears of his own. "I've got to go now. Class, you know."

"Good boy, then. You'll do the right thing. I know you will."

"I will, Malcolm. Goodbye." And Arrick hung up the phone and placed it on his desk. And stared out at nothing.

***

THE
phone was making that sound that he hated. You know…the ringing sound. It was early in the morning. Thursday. Anthony Heron was in bed getting some much needed if not particularly peaceful sleep. Beside him, Alicia stirred.

"God damn it, Anthony. Can't they leave you alone for five minutes?"

Heron rolled over and grabbed the phone. He was groggy and in no mood to hear that he had to run out to the Bronx or Staten Island because some new development in the plague of zombies had arisen and he was the only cop in the city that was qualified to handle it. It was bad enough that he worked seven days a week. Worse still that he ate, slept, and breathed zombies. But the phone calls were really going to send him over the edge.

"Sorry," he muttered to Alicia. Peeling open his gummed up eyes, he saw that it was 4:08 am. Good freakin' God!

The time made him angrier than anything had in a long while. He silently swore that if it wasn't the most important development since the invention of the wheel that he was going to have someone's head. Then he grabbed the phone and he saw the number. The wheel paled in comparison.

Swiping his finger across the screen to answer, he jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. Alicia lifted her head, momentarily interested in his urgency. But being what was virtually a single parent had exhausted her to the point where she couldn't even muster up enough energy to care. So she went back to sleep.