Chapter 4
It was the last segment of the tape that made me realize I was an
endangered species, and it appeared that the Red staters were working very hard
to change that status to extinct. It was then that my interrogator began to make
major inroads into what passed for my morale. I carefully examined every frame
of that tape as it showed the destruction of literally dozens upon dozens of
Mariah class zombies, as well as perhaps half a dozen of the Elijah class. They
had gotten the process down to a standard routine, which was the most
disconcerting information I gleaned from this display. It was obvious from the
various backgrounds that this was not one large killing plant, but numerous
small stations where the demolition of my kind had taken place.
Each zombie was fettered with what appeared to be stainless steel
restraints. All were in some state of consciousness, many relatively unscathed
considering the type of combat in which they had been involved. Initially each
zombie was decapitated and the severed head thrown into a pile located some
distance from where the processing of the bodies took place, thus preventing any
possibility of reconstitution or reanimation. The bodies were ground up in
machines traditionally used for stump grinding, this entire Red state area once
having been covered in pine and other smaller sized trees. The ground up bodies
were then transported to a trench filled with some type of chemical bath that
dissolved the remains. This is turn was pumped into tanker trucks and the
mixture poured into quicksand bogs, which completed the process of
decommissioning the zombie. I had to admit that it was quite efficient and most
effective.
The commander was quite candid about what happened in general to the
zombie heads. About half of them were made safe by eliminating the optical,
auditory and speaking capabilities, rendering them "deaf, dumb and blind" as he
so succinctly described the process. These were given as awards or trophies to
Red state troops who had distinguished themselves in battle. A few went to the
main museum located in Jackson, the Red state capital city, and the rest were
destroyed in crematoriums, the ashes sent to other quicksand bogs for ultimate
disposal.
I had to admit some type of reaction when the screen showed my body,
hanging from hooks on what looked to be some kind of conveyor belt. My
interrogator laughed as he watched my eyes zero in on my former body. Then he
said something that did a bit more than just surprise me.
"What you are witnessing is in all probablility the last zombie of its
class and perhaps all classes. When it is destroyed, the zombie army, such as it
was, will have been totally obliterated. You are the last of your kind. It is
for this reason that I have been empowered by our new leadership in Jackson to
make you a very generous offer that will allow you to continue to exist for a
rather long time, likely a number of years at the least."
"In all candor I must admit that I am dead set against this order that
has come directly from our new leader, the widow of the man who led us to this
final victory. It is tragic that at the moment of his greatest triumph, he
should be snatched away from us as the result of some minor deviation that was
initiated during his cloning, and over the decades finally ended his brilliant
reign as our maximum leader. Related to this event is the fact that our clone
armies, which were the backbone of our military success, also were heir to the
same deviation, but in their case, because of the lack of quality control, it
proceeded at a pace that was well over ten times more rapid than what took Bush
5 from us."
"The lack of a functional clone army has severely hampered our military
efforts in the other theaters of operation and will put even more pressure on
our homeland population to continue to support the activities of the Army of
Freedom. Thus what it boils down to these days is morale. That is where you come
in. In exchange for allowing you to continue to function, you will act as a
focal point for improving national honor and pride. This will be achieved by
putting you on a tour that will allow the various population centers the chance
to witness what you are and vent their anger and frustration as they watch you
suffer the torments of the damned. For in truth, you are truly damned to remain
functioning under the most dire of situations. In a sense you are the last of
the undead from either side, but that is a thought that I will only share with
you."
I had to admit that this was tremendous amount of information to digest
and attempt to sort in order to determine what my response to this bargain
should be. It did not take more than a few seconds to come to the conclusion
that cooperation with this human was the optimal path to take if I wanted to
continue to fulfill my prime objective, which was to eliminate Red state people.
I had no reason to doubt the truth of what he said. The last month or so there
had been a tremendous reduction in encounters with the enemy and based on the
information provided by Elijah 47, out efforts to overcome the Red state
militias was not at all successful. Indeed I might very well be the last of my
kind and thus it was imperative I remain functioning in hopes that at some time
in the future I could once more return to action. All that remained was to hear
the human's terms and the restraints that would be placed upon me. They were
quick in coming once he knew I was in agreement with his offer.
"In your new capacity, there will be almost constant travel. This is the
one area of our new leadership's plan that concerns me the greatest. To reduce
the chances of you escaping and returning to your original state as a terrorist,
I will have two things done to you. You will receive an implant which will send
a signal that can be picked up by our network surveillance system in case you
somehow manage to escape. To further reduce this possibility, a small but deadly
charge of plastic explosive will be surgically buried in your brain. This can be
set off from a distance of approximately half a mile."
I could see by his body language and the tone of his voice, that he was
quite pleased with himself. I did nothing to make him think otherwise. It would
take some serious study of the problem in order to develop an exit strategy. I
felt that time was my ally and thus the better my performance as a morale
building tool, the better my chances for extended survival.
He then revealed to me his strategy for making certain that I did not
escape during the time that would be spent doing from one city to another. After
each appearance, which invariably would result in my decapitation as part of
the morale building event, my body would be transported in an independent
carrier that would always be separated from my head by a distance of at least
one mile, guaranteeing that there could be no way for me to reanimate or
reconstitute myself except when it was necessary to be prepared for my next
appearance.
His next revelation was almost laughable to me, but my logic could
appreciate the importance of such cosmetic considerations. I would now be
capable of emitting all variety of shreiks, screams, pleadings and the like
thanks to a small broadcasting system implanted in my throat area. My other new
capability was being able to "bleed" by means of a small pump that could supply
a reasonable facsimile of blood from various ports located in my torso. The
irony was that we zombies had no feelings and no blood supply. How else could
the audience believe or imagine that I was suffering the torments of the damned
if they could not hear and see some manifestation of what I was enduring?
