Derek Goodman - The Reanimation of Edward Schuett

“Sir,” Dr. Chella said as Emmanuel helped her up. “If I could have permission to go clean up my face before we continue the conference…”

“No you may not,” the president said. “I may not have caught everything that was said before Director Gates came in and greeted you, but I heard enough to know you have some serious explaining to do. Did you honestly lock the young Miss Gates in a room alone with two reanimated and leave her to die?”

“I did no such thing,” Chella said. “Junior over there was never in any danger. I would never put another human being in harm’s way.”

“My ass,” Liddie muttered under her breath. That got a warning look from the president, but he said nothing to chastise her.

“Then just what exactly could you possibly have expected to accomplish with this little stunt?” the president asked.

“Sir, I’ve only just shown to the world how the reanimated nearly destroyed the human race, and maybe even given us exactly the clue we need to destroy all that remain.”

The president only looked surprised for a second before he regained his composure. “Continue.”

“It’s pheromones, sir. So obvious an answer that someone should have figured it out by now, but nobody did.” She neglected to add Nobody but me , but Liddie knew the sentiment was intended all the same.

“Pheromones,” the president repeated. “You’ll excuse me if I ask you to tell me what that means. The term sounds familiar.”

“They’re a chemical factor released by certain species to trigger specific responses. They are a common phenomena among insects.”

“Insects? And just how are things that started out as humans making these chemicals that only insects are supposed to have.”

“I suspect it’s not exactly like insects. You must remember, sir, I’ve only just now made this discovery. The actual difference between these new pheromones and the ones science is already familiar may be very great. Or small. We simply can’t be sure yet. But I do know where they come from: the so-called tumors.”

The president rifled through a series of papers spread out on his desk. “Those would be, let’s see…the anomalies you discussed in one of your reports.”

“Correct. They were never tumors at all. They’re glands of some sort that we’ve never seen before. I believe now that they are what created the pheromones. And the anomalies in the reanimated nasal cavities are the pheromone receptors.”

“And what exactly is so important about these pheromones? What do they actually do?”

“Don’t you see, sir? That’s how the reanimated communicate. That’s how they find these groups they become part of, that’s how they seem to know when other reanimated are in the vicinity, and most importantly that is how they sometimes appear to coordinate their attacks. When alone they only have their individual empty brains to work with. But once they’re together, the pheromones make them into a sort of hive mind. Like one creature in many bodies.”

“But these pheromones can’t be something that you’re just discovering now. The glands you talk about must have been in the earliest reanimated specimens. So why is this the first I’m hearing of them?”

Again, Dr. Chella didn’t even try to hide her malicious smile. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but I couldn’t study them. Director Gates had been so obsessed with the idea of a Z7 that she took funding away from all other research.”

Director Gates stood from her chair. “That is a blatant lie! I was only taking funds from programs that…”

The president put his hand to his head like he had a headache. “I will not tolerate any more outbursts, Gates. Dr. Chella will finish having her say.” Liddie looked at her mother, who looked back. She wondered if her mother had just noticed the same thing she had. This was the first time in either this conversation or the last that the president hadn’t referred to her as “director.”

“Dr. Chella,” the president said, “I’m still failing to see how this has anything to do with locking a member of the CRS senior staff in with two reanimated, one of which we still don’t understand in the slightest.”

“And that was exactly the problem. We don’t understand that thing. We don’t know what it’s truly capable of. Or at least we didn’t. We do now. I had a theory, and unfortunately it required the younger Gates to believe she might be in danger, but my theory turned out to be true.”

“And are you going to tell us this theory, or are you going to continue acting like a drama queen and making me ask you questions every few seconds so you can make yourself feel smarter?”

Dr. Chella paused at that. Her moment of discomfort secretly delighted Liddie, but she had a feeling that delighted moment wouldn’t mean a whole lot for much longer.

“Sir, I’m only trying to say this: the Z7 is capable of rational thought, but it was obviously affected by the pheromones. I could see the way it looked when the reanimated was going for Miss Gates. It looked euphoric. That alone wouldn’t be so bad except for the other issue. For just a few seconds, it was able to control the other reanimated. And if it can control one, it can control others. It can do this, yet it is obviously not on our side.”

“That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard!” Liddie said. “Edward is just like any of us! You can’t just say—”

“Miss Gates?” the president said. His voice was unexpectedly quiet, and Liddie stopped. “I do think a terrible mistake has been made here. You’ve allowed yourself to get too close to the subject to see the truth. This is not a man. He may look like a man and talk like a man, but he is not one. He is a reanimated. A zombie. A zed, if you want to use the slang of those yokels in mid-country. And if Dr. Chella’s claim about what he can do is even slightly correct, then that actually makes him something worse. It makes him the only thing in known history with the ability to control the worst bioweapon ever unleashed on the planet Earth. And that is simply not acceptable.”

The president contemplated his hands for a moment. “Between this and the broadcast that went out on TV an hour ago, I do believe I have no choice. This particular project is terminated. The Z7 is to be destroyed. Dr. Chella, since you obviously have no misguided personal feelings in the matter like certain others do, I’m putting you in charge of making sure this thing is shot in the head and burned immediately. After that, I will review the particulars in this matter and determine if any further disciplinary action is warranted.”

Liddie leaned forward. “Mr. President, you’re acting illogically here. Just let us do some more experiments to prove he’s not a threat.”

“My word is final, Miss Gates,” the president said. The screen then went blank.

Dr. Chella and Dr. Emmanuel stood up. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way,” Chella said. “Really I am.”

“You lying fucking bitch,” Liddie said. “Don’t even fucking say that. You’re not sorry in the slightest.”

Dr. Chella looked at the screen as though making sure that the president couldn’t still listen in on the conversation. “You’re absolutely right. This may just be the happiest moment in my entire life.”

“I won’t let you do this,” Liddie said. “You’re not going to just kill an innocent man.”

“The president himself ordered it,” Dr. Emmanuel said. “You can’t go against that. It would be treason.”

“And you know as well as any of us do that this thing isn’t innocent,” Dr. Chella added. “No matter what it can do or say now, it once couldn’t do anything other than hunt down and kill people. And it absolutely disgusts me that you treat it as though it were as good as us.”