13: More Dead Than Alive

It is a serious thing just to be alive
on this fresh morning in this broken world.

Mary Oliver

When Leza returned with her entourage—larger than ever—the Collective was ready. Despite it being too soon to kill anything larger, they slaughtered two chickens and carried the fresh blood out and waited outside the gate.

As usual, she designated a group of her undead to run ahead and drink. The entire procedure operated without a hitch. The zombies were licking the bowl when she reached the welcoming committee.

“Glad to see you again,” Thomas said, extending his hand. “We weren’t sure how long you planned to stick around. We’ve put your practices into effect, feeding the local zombies, though we haven’t attempted camping with them yet.”

“It’s best you don’t until absolutely vital, it’s an unnecessary risk,” she acknowledged.

“We noticed there were more than usual, but they were well-behaved. In the meantime, the work we did on our extended garden has expanded our range. With the zombies under managed control, we should be able to exercise and graze our animals a few at a time. Once we get the area fenced, we can leave them there a few days at a time, rotating them in and out. With those additions, we can support a greater number of zombies.”

“I’ll be honest, several of those are mine. I left a few used to interacting with humans. With them here, they should help to socialize the vagrants who wander into your territory.”

Fredrick was dancing in place, clenching his fists and biting his lip. Grinning, Thomas backed up, waving him forward. “Fredrick’s eager to talk to you, and I think you’ll be interested in what he has to say.”

Without waiting for her to recognize him, he began speaking.

“First, I’m grateful for your arranging my sampling of your zombies’ blood. It’s confirmed much of what I suspected but never had sufficient quantities to document. I’d previously identified the cause of the zombie plague. It’s composed of new growths in tissue cells which allow the body to survive with compromised blood flow.”

“It also resists infection and gangrene,” Leza added, indicating this didn’t come as a complete surprise.

“Yet I learned even more from your samples. I’m not sure how to say this, but technically, you’re more dead than alive.” Leza’s eyes widened, so he hurried to explain. “You’ve got such a high percentage of zombie cells, you should be undead by now. Any tissue I expose to your blood turns the sample, but in your case you haven’t.”

She nodded, stroking her chin. “That might explain why the zombies don’t react to me. My blood doesn’t excite them, though they’ll attack other undead, whose blood doesn’t contain the necessary nutrients.”

“You’ve got a higher percentage of undead cells than many of your zombies. I’m eager to determine why you haven’t turned yet. If I can isolate it, it’s possible we can develop a vaccine against the plague. It may not prevent anyone from turning when they die, but it should keep us from losing as many as we are.”

“On the other hand,” Jefferson cautioned, “if you die, from any cause, there’s little doubt you will turn.”

“That is problematic. My people depend on me. I’ve always known that if I die, they’ll carry on. Yet, if I encourage them to become feral after my death, all my work will be for naught.”

“Don’t plan anything drastic,” Fredrick said. “I’ve got a few more things I want to try. I’d like to take a bone marrow sample this time. It’ll take longer and be more painful.”

“The zombies don’t respond to pain like humans.”

“I wasn’t going to take it from them. I want to determine the distribution of zombie cells throughout your body, and whether the ratios vary. Since bones reproduce slower than other tissue, they’ll establish a base for me to compare your current results to.”

Leza rolled her sleeve up. “I’m not quite as stoic as my people, but I can stand a little discomfort. Let’s get this over with.”

“Do you want anything for the pain? After all, I’d rather not see what your zombies do if you scream.”

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just do this. There’s still a lot left to accomplish. Besides, it’s hard feeling sorry for myself when so many of my people are missing limbs. I can take it.”

Fredrick opened his medical bag, the supplies ready.

“What do you have remaining before you move on?” Thomas asked. “We’ve learned so much, we’re hoping to increase our knowledge before you leave.”

She smiled as Fredrick pressed a small battery-powered drill to her hip.

“This will hurt,” he warned.

Jefferson glanced at the assembled zombies a short distance away. “Are you sure the sound of the drill won’t upset them?”

“They’re used to you. As long as it’s not too prolonged and I don’t react negatively, they won’t overreact.”

“That’s not promising much.”

“I can’t use anything else, but having the drill against her flesh will keep the vibrations to a minimum,” Fredrick promised. “I added extra insulation, so I’ll need to pause so it doesn’t overheat.”

“Then you’d best get started,” Leza said. When he did, a muffled high-pitched whine escaping the drill, she bit her lip, wincing from the pain but not crying out.

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” she said, wrinkling her forehead with concentration. “At this point, having you train anyone else is risky. I’m planning to stay until you complete the training for the next group.” She paused as she grit her teeth, grimacing, the smell of burning bone spreading as those observing winced in sympathy. When Fredrick stopped to let the drill cool, she continued.

“If things go badly, the whole thing can fall apart. If it does, I’ll need to step in, calm my people and get everything straightened out.”

“So what’s your next task?” Jefferson asked.

“I’d like to take a few of the women out with the zombies. They’ll likely take to it more naturally than the men. Although it’s always dangerous, they’re more used to treating potentially unstable individuals. I suspect they’ll have more patience and a quieter temperament, which will make them ideal for this. However, I needed to prove it was possible before moving to this step.”

Fredrick motioned he was ready, so Thomas approached the front gate, issuing commands as he began drilling again. It took a few moments as sweat formed along Leza’s brow, but he finally finished, pulling the drill away.

“Sorry, but it was necessary.”

“If you say so,” she said, rubbing her hip as he wiped it with an antiseptic.

“I’ve got several women ready. They’re nervous, but they’re so excited about the prospects they were practically fighting over who’d get the spot.”

Leza laughed, testing her leg by taking a few steps. “Tell them they’ll all get a chance. If this works, you’ll be teaching the rest of the country as your influence grows. What’s more, everyone will send people here just to learn your techniques.”

The women did well. Leza wanted the men to supervise without her interference. She planned to intercede in case things didn’t go smoothly. The women were understandably nervous, but as the undead responded, they grew more enthusiastic. She was correct. They not only took to it, their soothing voices allowed them to sing louder, eliminating their inadvertently surprising their wards and allowing them to call any who might wander off—though few did.