I turned the dial again. Static.
WE STARTED AN exercise routine at the Garden of Eden. Mind, body, and spirit.
Because when I returned from the garage, I found Eve and Kapotas doing the zombie dance around the crucifixion scene. Walking in no particular direction, drooling, moaning, eyes and minds empty as seashells, heads banging against the chain saw-carved crosses.
Tabula rasa. Tabbouleh for brains.
I signaled to them, waving my arms and jumping up and down, but it was as if I didn’t exist. I was not only zombie but ghost as well. The Invisible Man.
“Eeeeoooaaah,” I said, which meant: “Hellooo. Anyone home? Earth to zombies!”
No reaction. Kapotas rubbed his head against the robber’s cross, while Eve fell to the ground, her hands holding her stomach, which had grown so large and roiling it looked like her skin might rip apart.
Kapotas was a hairy zombie. He was covered with the stuff: black, oily, on his arms, legs, back, and belly, like a bloody teddy bear. And he was stocky, with stubby arms and legs and a barrel chest. He looked like the type of guy who’s comfortable using a chain saw-for creation or destruction. Kapotas’s primary bite site was on his neck, which was so thick it was barely there. Joan had sewn the wound up with sky-blue embroidery thread; it looked like a spider’s web. I stuck my finger in its center, grabbed Eve by her stumpy wrist, and led them to the courtyard, where Joan and Guts were looking up at the clouds.
The problem with zombies is they’re incapable of entertaining themselves. Leave them alone for a few hours and they become despondent and depressed, staring at the wall, dreaming of brains and guts and brains and guts and brains and brains and…
I lined them all up in a row and led them in a series of calisthenics. Hands over heads, reach for the sky! Hands on the ground, touch your toes! Nothing too strenuous; I didn’t want any body parts to fall off. They all did as I asked them to, even though Joan was so stiff with the rigor she could barely bend at the waist and Kapotas and Eve needed to be bribed with brain-treats to keep from wandering off. Those two weren’t any smarter than dogs, but, like dogs, they could be trained.
Besides, the best soldiers are the dumb obedient ones. And that’s what I wanted. An army. A Zombie Army to limp our way to victory.
It was a long shot, but long shots don’t stop heroes. Think Sitting Bull standing up to Custer; the Allies invading the beaches of Normandy; think Luke Skywalker destroying the Death Star and David slaying Goliath.
This was my plan: gather a militia and storm Chicago. We had the element of surprise on our side. That’s why we succeeded with Ros and Guil; they never expected an organized attack from corpses. Once inside their perimeter, we’d grab hostages and take over a tank, using force, the only language the military understands. After we had their attention, we’d request an audience with Doctor Stein. Violence would give way to diplomacy when Stein perused my document, an elegantly worded and passionate plea to his sense of equality and justice. With my background and knowledge, I would write an argument as persuasive and historic as “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” or the Declaration of the Rights of Man.
First the power of the sword, then the pen. I’d be hailed as a savior. A leader. Thomas Jefferson. A king.
I put the chain saw in Kapotas’s hands, hoping to jar his memory. A weapon like that could be an asset in the revolution, especially wielded by a resolute cadaver. I pulled the ripcord and it sprang to life, roaring Texas Chain Saw Massacre-style.
Kapotas dropped it and sliced off his own foot at the ankle.
“Noooaaaahmmmm!” he said, reaching out to his appendage, which hopped away on its own volition, going who knows where.
Zombie Army’s first foot soldier.
Doomed. I put my head in my hands. We were doomed.
I WAS WITH Eve in the Garden of Eden, my hand on her thigh. The serpent hovered above our heads. Chain-Saw Eve clutched the apple in her hand, already won over to the dark side. My Eve nibbled on an olive-green toe.
Her eyes were getting worse. Filmy and yellow, like faded gauze curtains, they were as dead as Kapotas’s Eve-and she was carved from wood. We were down to the last of our provisions: digits, skin, fat, blood. Everyone was desperate for viscera. If I didn’t secure brains soon, my army would go AWOL looking for some.
Earlier that day, the president had been on the radio. I was shocked that we still had a president. And it was still the same guy.
“My fellow Americans,” he said, “we are in a crisis of biblical proportions. Basic services are down and many citizens don’t have electricity or running water. There are no police forces or hospitals to, uhhhh, provide protection and administer aid. As a matter of fact, we’re unsure how many of you are receiving this broadcast. Or how many are left alive.
“Although I have declared martial law to restore order, for the most part you are on your own. We are in the process of rebuilding infrastructures and getting food and water to those who need it. But the problem is finding you without attracting attention from the enemy. And that’s a hard job. We work very hard at it.
“The enemy is crawling all over our great nation, from Portland, Maine, to Portland, Oregon. Our intelligence suggests it’s Armageddon, as foretold by the Book of Revelation. In other words, Judgment Day.
“We are sure, positive, there is no doubt, that one of the prophecies has come true: The dead walk among us. And they’re zombies.
“These are extraordinary times requiring extraordinary measures. I understand vigilante groups have been formed. I support this. I also support citizens, uhhhh, gathering supplies from stores and supermarkets, as long as it’s done in an orderly fashion. I urge you to bond together and help your neighbor. Reach out to one another. And above all else, pray together.
“Not since 9/11 have the American people stood stronger or firmer. I am proud of your conduct and courage. God bless you all.
“Our military commanders have given me some practical advice to pass on to you: Never forget the enemy. If you see one, don’t approach it or talk to it. Even if it’s your father. Because it’s not your father. Not anymore. Shoot it in the head or burn it. It’s essential to destroy its brain.
“Let me repeat: If you don’t have a weapon, do not approach the enemy. Walk away as fast as you can. You may even want to run. Find a structure, make sure it’s not infested with the evil ones, then secure it and protect yourself. You have the full support of your president to do whatever it takes to survive. Any means necessary.
“Rest assured that your government is working toward a swift resolution to this crisis. The full power of our military has been deployed. Congress has declared war and given me the authority to use extreme force-and that includes nuclear force.
“Stay safe, stay together, and stay alive. God bless America.”
“The Star-Spangled Banner” came on. The president had mentioned nuclear war, another kind of apocalypse.
Contacting Stein became more important than ever. With compelling rhetoric and a receptive audience, I could speak for my people, represent our point of view. Maybe even end the war.
First things first: I had an army to feed.