The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel Read online

  Still confused as why the General was here, Daniel had all kinds of questions spinning through his head. Moments ago, he was engrossed in his gene splicing project and now he was talking to a man who travels with armed guards. "Collins Institute? Why would they recommend me? Wait, what do you mean strange situation?"

  The tall general motioned his hand to the chairs so they could take the weight off their feet. Sitting across from each other at the long mahogany conference table, Brown explained. "I didn't believe it when the details came across my desk, but it appears to be verified. I saw security video, talked to several morticians and coroners, it appears to be true."

  Daniel glanced at the two soldiers stationed by the door and back at the general. "I still don't understand. What appears to be true?"

  Brown rubbed his hand along the side of his face while he thought about his answer. "We have thirty two reports from various parts of the country. Some from morgues, some funeral homes, one vehicle accident scene, people or I should say bodies, which have been declared dead, returned to life for no apparent reason. You would think it's a simple case of misdiagnosis, but thirty-two? Those are odds Vegas wouldn't touch."

  A young soldier walked in the room and set an electronic tablet on the table, pushing it toward Daniel. As Dr. Cronsworth glanced at the electronic documents, the General continued. "We've been doing what we can to keep a lid on these stories. Hell, nobody wants to start reporting dead bodies coming back to life. They would look like idiots. If it continues, someone will eventually run it on the evening news. At that point, I'm going to get calls asking me what the military is doing about it." Two more soldiers walked in with two large olive drab military storage crates and set them down on the floor next to Daniel. "When that call comes in, I want to be able to say we have already neutralized the situation."

  Daniel skimmed through several more pages on the tablet. "All of these cases happened within twenty minutes of each other on the same day."

  "Yeah, and they're scattered all across the map," the General replied. "I hope this is just a hiccup in the natural order of things and year from now it will all be forgotten."

  Glancing up from the tablet, Daniel pointed to the boxes. "What's in the crates?"

  "Four of these incidents happened right here in Denver. One happened during the autopsy of a man who was hit by the light rail train. The coroner had already taken out several organs when the guy stood up and walked away. I confiscated the body parts, plus his clothes and everything that touched the deceased." Brown motioned his head toward the door, signaling the soldiers to exit. "Obviously, I'm not a scientist, but I'm guessing you're going to find this is some kind of new strain of African sleeping sickness. Maybe all these people had some bad Fugu for lunch. I never did understand the need to go into a sushi restaurant and pay thirty bucks to eat the most poisonous thing on the menu."

  Still reading the pages on the tablet, Daniel responded, "It says here, the coroner removed this man's kidney and pancreas before he walked out the door. I can't see how African sleeping sickness or eating some bad puffer fish could overcome missing organs."

  The General leaned back in his chair. "I had an uncle who donated one of his kidneys and later had his gallbladder removed. He lived to be 87."

  "But this body walked out of the room while his abdomen was still cut open. I'm sure your uncle was stitched back up before he left the hospital. "

  "Look Doc, I've seen boys on the battlefield get all kinds of holes blown through them and they still did all kinds of things. When I was a Lieutenant, I watched one of my buddies get ripped open by a mortar. He ran across a hundred yards of tarmac holding his intestines with one hand and carrying an ammo can in the other. While waiting to get medevac’d out of there, he ate a turkey sandwich and drank a beer."

  "Did he live?"

  Brown stood up and turned toward the door. "He married my ex-wife's sister and made General two years before me." As he walked out of the room, he said, "Get me some reasonable sounding answers and let's put this whole damn thing behind us."

  Chapter 2

  Inside the dark abandoned warehouse, a little over seventy undead stood or sat, while they listened to the tall man speak from the center of the group. His clothes suggested the body he inhabited used to be part of a heavy metal band wearing leather and studded wrist cuffs, heavy black boots, and a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off. He spoke in a loud voice as if he had addressed large crowds many times. His long hair had colored streaks, which wove in and out, creating a tiger stripe-like pattern. The man slowly turned so he could address all bodies in the room.

  Vic led Prometheus into the area where they stood at the edge of the crowd. The man from Chicago whispered to the Athenian, "That's Gunnar Benwa. He's one of the ancient guys like you. I don't know my history all that well, so I don't know which one of you is older. Before he was transferred to that body, he was some kind of Viking." Pointing to another man near a wooden crate, he continued, "Benwa and that guy dressed like a gang banger are both from the history books. The banger's name is Titus and he's like a Roman or something. Both of these guys used to be somebody in their former lives and they've kind of become our new leaders in all this chaos."

  Prometheus scanned the upper rafters of the deteriorating warehouse. Blackbirds nested in several of the support beams and old wires hung loose across dilapidated ventilation ducts. Dirt and grunge covered all the surfaces. Bright blue sky peaked through several of the grime-covered broken windows offering the only light in the building. "Dear friend, I still do not understand many of your words." He brought his attention back to Vic. "My ears have not heard of the people you call Vikings and Romans and gang bangers. These countries and regions from which they hail did not appear on the maps I have read. This is one more unanswered question, I have to add to the already numerous inquiries, which only go back to the time you and I met on that unusual street. From what I understand so far, our souls have been transported into these bodies and I now stand thousands of years in my future. This is the extent of my understanding of where we are at this time."

  "You got it, chief." Vic pulled the lower half of his sport coat back and placed his hands in his pants pockets. "I used to be just some shmuck from the South Side. I was overweight with a bad ticker and diabetes. Now look at me. I'm styling in this new body of some guy who had money and must have belonged to a gym. Other than the fact we're dead, I feel like I'm living large."

  Prometheus shook his head with confusion. "This language that we are speaking. I do not understand many of the terms. Perhaps you, my new friend, good Vic, you could explain why we have all been brought here and placed in these bodies."

  "Yeah, actually Benwa and Titus have been here the longest and seem to have the best insight on what's going on around here." He pointed to the two men who were in a heated debate. "And, somewhere in this group, there's this ancient Princess chick who gathered a bunch of us to fill us in on what's happening."

  "You speak of royalty with little regard to their status." Prometheus turned to watch the two men arguing. "This is the queerest dream that I have ever experienced."

  Standing in the center of the crowd, the Viking said to the Roman, "With the fear the living have in us, it is more important to organize battle groups for our own protection. It will not take long for them to rally and eliminate what they consider a threat to their way of life and their spirit itself. We are their perceived threat. I would think of all the people here, a Roman would understand the need for a legion."

  Titus, with a wide red bandana wrapped around his head like a headband, long loose shirt, baggy jeans and a small teardrop tattooed underneath his right eye, spoke in a calm well-educated voice. "Speak not as to Roman aggression upon the people. I recall an attack by the Visigoth on a small and unprotected port city. As we have memories of similar events, my good friend, you may have been one of the barbarians who excelled in the art of pillaging. But, we are not to renew battles, which this day and time have
long forgotten. We have a mission to save our descendants, which is why I propose we gain organization within our structure of gifts. Layered government, so to speak, will be most vital for us to accomplish this daunting task. The formation of a legion might only be beneficial for certain needs. It will only distract us from the purpose of why we have been placed here."

  "It is just like a Roman to ignore the threat at the door only to rebuild his grand empire." Benwa turned to those closest to him. "If we are dead but continue to live, it is this thread of life still beating in these foreign bodies that I am to protect."

  Prometheus said to Vic, "Finally, a discussion more comfortable to my ears and to my knowledge." He spoke up directly to Benwa and Titus. "I fear the tension you have for each other might be blinding you to the obvious alliance you already possess."

  Both the Viking and Roman turned to the new voice. Benwa said, "I see we have a fresh member to our merry band. What name do we call you and from what land and time do you hail?"

  "My name is Prometheus." He took a few steps from Vic and moved closer to the crowd. "I hail from the land I knew as Athens. I can only describe my origin time as the onset of the war against the Peloponnesian League led by Sparta."

  Titus moved away from the crates and into a spot of sunlight cast down from a hole in an upper level window. "Ah, a Greek man from time of the great thinkers. Tell us good Prometheus, what kind of fortune is blinded from our vision?"

  "You are both correct. Any large group of citizens would need a structure of organization. If such a society were to be threatened by opposing force, the need of such military would also be advantageous. Without the knowledge, many of you hold as to why we are here, I see no problem with both a military and governmental structure. Dear and good Benwa, you seem to be from a city similar to Sparta, where soldiers dominate the population. Perhaps, you could organize those willing to take arms. And good sir, Titus, you appear to understand the structure of a Senate. You may well be a good choice to orchestrate such a governing body."

  Benwa turned toward Titus and nodded his head in agreement. "A Visigoth and a Roman leading a clan of the undead, it is no more absurd than the fact that we are here in a future world inside bodies, which not our own. What say you, Roman?"

  Titus walked up to Benwa and placed his hand on the Vikings shoulder. "I can cast aside my animosity to your people, if you can do the same."

  Benwa slapped his hand down on the Roman's shoulder and let out a deep laugh. My wife would cut my throat as I slept if she knew I would serve next to a Roman. Based on how much it would anger her, I will serve with you."

  Prometheus asked, "Could anyone please explain why we are here? I do not understand this gift to our descendants, but realize it is of utmost importance. As we were all sent here by Zeus, I'm sure we can agree it would be ill advised to anger him."

  "Zeus?" Benwa replied in surprise. "I walked in Valhalla and drank ale with Odin himself."

  Vic replied, "Valhalla? I stood at the Pearly Gates and spoke directly to St. Peter."

  Random voices sprang up from the crowd. "I came here from Zion."

  "Abraham gave me very detailed instructions."

  "Buddha told me of my purpose."

  Titus raised his hand and interjected. "As I stood at the feet of Jupiter, it appears we have all been sent by different Gods. It does not seem of consequence who sent us, but why." He pointed to the Athenian. "Good Sir Prometheus has questions. The same questions all of us had when we arrived in the strange world. I say while we still have light of day remaining, we gather all newcomers and instruct them to our purpose of existence in this era." He pointed with an open hand to the edge of the crowd. "As she did an excellent task of explaining such details to me and others, I request once again upon our Sumerian royalty, the fine Princess Rachel."

  From the edge of the crowd, a young Harajuku Girl stepped from the shadows into the light. The five-foot tall Japanese girl with bright pink hair, pale skin, light blue lipstick, and short black dress with a red tutu around her waist, stood with aristocratic aplomb. She had a dried streak of blood which ran from under her scalp down past her ear which gave an indication of how this body died. She carried her posture as a princess would when she addressed a room. With her hands clasped in front of her, she said, "I will gladly speak with our new arrivals."

  Prometheus joined several of his fellow undead inside what remained of the warehouse manager's office. Rachel stood on top of an old plastic crate in front of the whiteboard hanging crooked on the wall. As she turned to write the letters, "DNA" on the board, he noticed her backpack shaped like a small black and white bear clinging to her shoulders. Facing the group, she said, "We have all been sent here for this magic string of life called deoxyribonucleic acid or DNA for a name much friendlier to our tongues and ears."

  Prometheus spoke up. "Before you explain this DNA, would you first instruct me as to how we arrived here? Was it some form of necromancy?"

  A large middle-aged man in an ill fitting dirty t-shirt replied. "Dude, the powers that be turned us into zombies. Deal with it."

  Completely confused, Prometheus turned back to Rachel who said, "We all had many questions when we first arrived. It is better you remain patient and your answers will eventually arrive." She glanced around the room and went back to her speech. "This DNA is what gives us life and determines our height, the color of our eyes, if we are men or women," she touched a strand of her hair, "and apparently if one would be born with bright pink hair. This string is what we must collect in order to give our endowment to our living descendents. Our gifts are all different, but apparently, much desired by those still living. My endue is the cure for something called arthritis. I do not know what it is, only these people with their flying machines and lights with no flames, do not know how to relieve themselves of this affliction."

  A very elderly man in a nice suite said, "I was attending college only last week. Apparently, chugging a bottle of whiskey can kill you. I guess I lost that bet. Anyway, DNA is in our skin and muscle tissue, and blood and our organs. How do we turn the DNA into whatever cure we have?"

  Princess Rachel turned toward him keeping the poise of her royal title. "Many of us have already begun the process. The bodies we have been given will transform the strings of life the same way it transformed the food we ate into blood and skin and the energy to move. It will be stored in our spirit."

  Prometheus asked, "How are we to get this string of life into our stomachs?"

  "We must take a bite out of one of the living. Their flesh is not to sustain our existence, but it is to process into what will give our descendants longer lives."

  The crowd let out a common sigh of disgust hearing they would need to eat the living as the college student in the elderly body said, "Hey, we're dead. The thought of being a zombie freaks me out more than what I have to do as a one of them. Whatever I need to do to get through this crazy ride, let's get on with it."

  The Princess continued. "We seem to exist without the need for food or water. Many of our desires remain. Companionship, music, laughter, earthly desires, all continue because they are a part of our essence which has been transferred into these bodies. I have heard some refer to it as our soul."

  A man wearing a fire retardant racecar drivers suit riddled with burn marks raised his hand and asked, "You said we all need to process different amounts of this DNA. How do we know when we have processed enough? I do not wish to eat any more human flesh than necessary."

  Rachel explained, "As told to me by An and Enlil, our eyes will turn to bright green, when only one additional strand is needed. When we have processed our required amount of this string of life, our eyes will glow bluer than the sky."

  The college student replied, "What's the big deal? All we need to do is explain it to the living and I'm sure we'll get all kinds of freaks who'll volunteer. Hell, I've got some buddies who'll do it on a dare if they know there will be beer for them at the end."

  Rachel smiled
politely. "I do not understand all of your words but the process will not be as easy as you have imagined. We will go out in search of supplies and strings of life. You will experience what we have already witnessed. However, currently this great city appears to be in the midst of a celebration of the walking dead. They dress up as us, drink ale and make merry. We may be able to conceal ourselves within their ranks."

  * * *

  Daniel sat in his lab with the contents of the military crate spread over a stainless steel autopsy table. Dirty torn clothes with several small plastic ice chests labeled, "Human Organs" covered the surface. Each item had a numbered yellow identification tag attached with a thin wire. He lifted up a flannel shirt with a pair of tongs and examined the bloodstains. From the doorway, he heard, "Are you thinking about going grunge?"

  He turned to see his wife, Wendy, walk into the room and set her purse down on a table. Pulling off his latex gloves, he turned to greet her with concern running through his mind. As he put his arms out to hug her, he asked, "What did Dr. Gorstein say?"

  Wendy, with shoulder length straight brown hair, and medium build, wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek and said, "He thinks we should be able to eliminate all the cancer with a combination of chemotherapy and radiation."

  Daniel let go and said, "He didn't want to do the surgery?"

  "He said the chemo and pinpoint radiation will take care of it better than surgery. Even if we did the surgery, I'd still have to do the chemo." She smiled. "So I loose my hair for awhile and drop a few pounds. I'll wear wigs and buy some new clothes."