Derek Goodman - The Reanimation of Edward Schuett

“Edward?” she said as she stepped in. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Edward asked.

“I thought it was going to hurt you.”

Edward shook his head. “I don’t have anything to fear from him.” He made a conscious effort to refer to the zombie as “him” rather than “it.” Even if he’d been thinking that way to himself, he didn’t want to continue it.

The guard finished unlocking the zombie and went out the door. The other one gave the zombie another shock, although there didn’t appear to be any good reason to do so. The zombie was still too out of it to react much, but Edward winced. Even Liddie fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Come on,” Liddie said. “I don’t have the slightest clue what Chella thought this would accomplish, but whatever it was it obviously failed. Let’s…”

The door shut and clicked as the two guards locked it from the outside.

“What the hell?” Liddie asked. She ran over to the door and knocked on it. “Hey, we’re still in here. Let us out!”

There was no sound from the other side.

Edward looked back and forth between the mirror and the zombie on the floor. Not only had the guards taken the hand and ankle cuffs, but also the mittens and mask. There was only one reason they would do that with an unarmed human in the room. They intended for the zombie to attack her.

“Hey!” he screamed as he ran up to the window to pound on it. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Even as he said the question, though, he thought he already had the answer. He stepped away from the window, knowing full well that nothing he said would change Dr. Chella’s mind. It was one thing to poke and prod him and treat him like a thing, but she was willingly putting Liddie in danger here. The woman wasn’t just on a power trip anymore. She had crossed the line into full-blown psychopath.

Liddie joined him at the window, being sure to give the zombie a wide berth, and did her own yelling. “Chella, you bitch! What is going on?”

“Liddie,” Edward said, “are you in on this?”

“Huh?”

“Just please, tell me you’re not in on this. This isn’t just a prank you’re in on?”

“I’m not in on anything. I don’t have the slightest clue what’s going on.”

“I think I do,” Edward said. “It’s a test.”

“A test of what?”

The zombie started to moan and twitch. Liddie moved as far away from it as she could. Edward stayed right by her side.

“A test of my humanity,” Edward said. “A test to prove I’m more human than zombie. If I don’t kill it, it will kill you.”

“What? No, Edward, that’s insane. That can’t be what…” She stopped in mid sentence and looked back at the mirror. “Chella, that’s insane. Don’t do this!”

Honey in the air. Edward sensed it before he even looked back over at the zombie. It was getting up, and it knew there was something else in the room, something foreign to it and hostile, but maybe also edible. Something that would help it, be useful to it. When it stood straight, Edward felt a subtle change in the scent. The change was like…an invitation? No, more like halfway between an invitation and a command. Join it. Become part of the horde. Make the horde stronger. Make the horde more capable. Help the horde feed.

Edward was vaguely aware that Liddie was somewhere nearby frantically trying to find something to use for defense. Did she realize at this point that he might be just as much of a threat as the zombie? It didn’t matter, because Edward didn’t succumb to the scent’s invite. He could feel all the subtle changes in the scent and the way it tried to work its way into his system, but it wasn’t built to compel something or someone with conscious control. And as Edward became aware of all those subtleties, he also felt the tiny ways in which he contributed to them.

The zombie took several shambling steps toward Liddie. Without looking at her, Edward heard her fumbling around in her clothes. Of course, he realized, anybody who worked in close proximity to zombies would always keep something on them as protection. Edward didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t look to find out. He was too preoccupied with that heady, unseen mixture that filled the air. The zombie added to it, and Edward added to it. The zombie was what gave the scent its invitational feeling, so what was Edward giving it? The feel of something that wanted that invite? Maybe that meant Edward could take that away, change it. He could concentrate, make it do something…

Liddie was never aware of the minute change in the scent. She wasn’t even aware that some primitive form of conversation was going on directly in front of her. But Edward was aware of it, and more importantly the zombie was aware. If this was a conversation, then Edward guessed that what he had just done was equivalent to making random barnyard animal noises in the middle of a serious discussion. His end of the conversation made no sense, and it thoroughly confused the zombie.

It stopped. That was all it did. It didn’t even stop for very long, a second or two at most. The instant it did, however, Edward heard a commotion from behind the mirror. The door unlocked and the two guards rushed into the room, but they didn’t both go for the zombie this time. One smashed it across the face with the shock prod, but the other came straight for Edward. He didn’t move, wanting it to be completely evident that he had no intention of doing anything to resist, but the guard either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He brought the prod down on Edward’s head, and Edward fell to the floor.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he had somehow failed the test.

Liddie had heard her mother raise her voice on a few occasions, but that had always been the limit to her anger. She’d done well throughout her entire life in keeping any temper she had completely hidden from the public, only allowing Liddie to see it when she had no other choice. Even with that, however, Liddie had expected her mother to at least scream in all her righteous indignation.

What she hadn’t expected was for her mother to punch Dr. Chella in the face right in front of the President of the United States.

“Bitch!” her mother screamed. “Fucking bitch! I’ll rip your lying murderous fucking head off!”

The conference room was in complete turmoil, which was an interesting trick considering there were once again only four people and a television image in it. Dr. Emmanuel simultaneously tried to hold off Danielle Gates and help Dr. Chella back to her feet from where she had fallen on the floor after the punch. Liddie’s mother tried to get past him for another shot while Liddie did her best to hold her back, but that was a challenge. It was like trying to hold an angry rabid ferret. Even the president himself shouted, screaming for everyone in the conference room to calm down and act professional. The only person who was calm at all was Dr. Chella. She’d had a stern and dour expression only seconds before Danielle’s fist had hit her face, but now, even with blood running over her lips from her nose, she smiled. That horrible creature actually smiled. Even as she tried to make sense of everything that had been happening, Liddie realized that somehow Dr. Chella had just won her years-long power struggle.

“If everyone in that room doesn’t be quiet and sit down this instant,” the president yelled, “I am going to fire every last one of you and give your jobs to the janitors!”

Her mother stopped trying to fight Liddie off and let Liddie guide her to the nearest chair. It frightened Liddie to see her mother in this state, but she was actually a little disappointed her mother hadn’t gone further. Or better yet, her mother could hold Chella down while Liddie stomped right through the woman’s ovaries. After all, if there was anybody here who had a real reason to be angry it was Liddie.