Part I in a serial
And what does our dreamer see today? This day he is Zombie Special Op, a highly trained, highly competent zombie assassin designed to combat and destroy the masses of enemies who hunt his kind down. Outnumbered, outgunned, with all odds against him, what chance does Zombie Special Op have? In a city where every enemy is an expert shopper, scientist and soldier all in one, how can a lone zombie turn the tide?
Zombie Special Op is infiltrating a Necrotech building, inside are hundreds of humans huddled together, the smell of excrement and body odour permeates the air, so much so that Zombie Special Op is forced to pull off his nose and deposit it safely in his pocket. Zombie Special Op finds the radio transmitter, which is barely visible for the crowd of humans who, for the most part, are so numerous they are unable to breathe. Zombie Special Op heads for the transmitter, which is broadcasting the important: “ZOMBIES SMELL!!! I HAVE A BIGGUN! I’M CLASSY!!” a sentence that humans are willing to fight for, to protect the brave transmitters and their useful banter. Zombie Special Op terminates the broadcast and instantly meets the attention of those around him.
Zombie Special Op absorbs the bullets, feeling a certain familiarity with them. Though there are only two people awake, they are, despite the hundreds in their way and the excrement stuck to their faces, quite capable of pulling a trigger and shouting conceited phrases. Zombie Special Op manages to maul them back but, horror, Zombie Special Op is headshot and collapses.
Surely this is the end for Zombie Special Op?! But no. Several hours later the humans still have difficulty dumping the body outside, after all, there’s over two hundred sleeping people in their way. Zombie Special Op manages to stand up again before being dumped, realising that all it’d take to remove the enemy is a single bomb - after all, they’re all in the same place, more or less unable to move.
At this point our lone zombie wakes up, returning to his life as a simple zombie man - certainly no special operative. He throws himself against the barricades to the Necrotech building, the stench is truly greater from within.
Part II in a serial
This evening our dreamer is a professional zombie speaker, a scholar through and through. He has read Plato, he has studied Nietzche and, if he says so himself, he’s damn good at this speaking lark.
Zombie Speaker finds himself at a stand, to his right is a composed, relaxed human and in front is an audience comprised of both zombie and humans, all watching the discussion eagerly.
Eagerly, for today they are to decide who has won, the humans or the zombies. The human made his case:
“Friends, enemies and those in between, I declare humanity the victor for, although we have lost several strongholds, we have since reclaimed them. The zombies may have bulldozed that which we built and shattered our numbers, but they cannot stay - they may destroy us, but we live on - and once they go we return, surely our perserverence is the key? Surely we are the victors. Our buildings are gone, but the survivors are not.”
The screen left the human, whose arms were left victoriously high, and focused instead on Zombie Speaker:
“I dare not suggest that humans are not perseverant, that is shown more or less in their choice of choosing to attack the same building twice, but I do suggest that in fact zombies are the victor. We have razed their foundations to the ground, answered their brags with roars and hit back against the legions of trenchcoaters, firemen, military SAS and whatever other stereotype the humans like to portray themselves as. They might very well reclaim their buildings, but it does not take us long to stand up and take them back again. They live in fear of us, we do not live in fear of them. Why else would they barricade their buildings in the first place?”
At this point our lone zombie wakes up, returning to his life as a simple zombie man - certainly no public speaker. As he descends upon a mall’s broken barricades, he truly wonders whether the word ‘victory’ has any meaning in Malton. Surely, if any side could ‘win’, the other would ’lose’? Yet both sides remain adamant that they have in fact won, and neither side has left the game completely.
The doubts seem to subside when our lone zombie makes his first kill of the morning.
Editor’s Note: This is the first serial story to run in the Malton Herald & Sun by our very own Olam.
