47. An Attractive Nuisance

We should have seen this coming.

We told everyone to come  file with the District if they were missing a loved one. It made sense: Bring a photo and file a report, and we’ll do our best to locate them in the containment site. We figured it would be good for people to have a task to focus on rather than focusing on the unknown. We wanted to bring order to the chaos and to give people hope.

But barely anyone came. Instead, they all went down to the containment site to see for themselves. Thousands crowded downtown night and day, hoping to catch a glimpse of their long lost family member. It was mayhem.

We thought that people would keep their distance until we were able to officially announce that the zombies were all cured. But all anyone heard was “cured,” ignoring the fact that this was a work in progress.

We should have seen this coming. But now it’s too late. The cat was out of the bag.

Thousands of people, running towards zombies. Reaching out for them. Calling out to them. Don’t these people realize that medicated zombies are still zombies?

No one listens. In the first week there were fifteen casualties. Fifteen people were eaten alive in front of thousands, their insides ripped out by the gray hands coming through the fence.

But still they came.

We had no idea if the infection was still strong enough to spread, but we couldn’t take any chances. Mayor Diggs authorized overtime pay for 300 police officers to work around the clock.

They set up barricades around the entire site and reinforced the fencing where it was weak. Four watchtowers were erected, one at each corner, and each manned by two officers with automatic rifles. They were authorized to shoot at anything – or anyone – that crossed the barricade.

In the second week there was only one casualty. A young man pushed past an officer and jumped the barricade, running towards the fence screaming, “Wendy! Wendy I love you! You’re alive!”

When he reached the fence, he was swarmed by zombies and bitten. One shot rang out. The man fell to the ground and blood rushed from his head on to the concrete.

No one else every tried to cross the barricade.

That didn’t change the number of people that swarmed the site. In fact, there were more now than before. But the barricade held.

The people were getting restless. We couldn’t announce how long it would be until everyone was cured because we didn’t know. But they demanded answers. They wanted to know when their loved ones would be allowed out. Some offered to take their relatives home even before they were cured. They couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

The zombies were getting restless too. They ate all the antibiotic-treated blood and meat that was pumped into the containment site, but still they reached out towards the crowd. They clearly showed signs of improvement – their flesh turned from green and black to a lighter gray, they moved less rigidly and with more purpose. They looked and acted more human every day. But they were still zombies.

So the District did the only logical thing: it hired an independent contractor to install eight giant projection screens. Four facing out toward the crowd, four facing inward. One showed news, one showed sports, one showed movies, and one showed sitcoms. Diggs billed it as an effort to make the wait more pleasant for the people, and to help re-humanize the zombies. But it was really just to keep them calm.

And it worked.

 

46. The Current Zombie Threat Advisory Is…

Mayor Diggs stood tall in front of the growing crowd at the Wilson Building on this overcast afternoon. There must have been over three hundred people in attendance. All watching with heads up and necks extended trying to get a better view of The Man Who Saved The District. On the façade of the building there hung a large curtain, covering the Mayor’s Grand Finale.

It had only been a week since the news spread that it was safe to return to D.C., and things were essentially back to how they were before the outbreak. It’s amazing how quickly people seem to forget. There are so many distractions around. Who could possibly dwell on the terror of the past few months?

Politicians. That’s who.

Without tragedy and disaster and disease and zombies, people tend to go about their business without much thought to who is running things around here. Mayor Diggs saw his moment. It’s an election year. It was time to frame the situation. It was time to coin terms and take credit for other people’s work. It was time for a speech.

He cleared his throat directly into the microphone:

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the District. Welcome home! I’d like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for being here today. Without you, this City is nothing. You are what make this City great!” [applause]

“But not all of us could come home. These past few months have been hard on all of us. We’ve lost friends and family members and colleagues. We lost Marion Barry to the infection. It’s been hard on everyone, I know, and we are doing our best to save those that we can. But for now, I’d like to take a moment to reflect in silence on those who didn’t make it…”

“But we can’t just dwell on the past. We need to look towards the future! I want you all to know that the Government will never let you down. I want you to know that my Administration has been working tirelessly since day one to get to this point, and I am proud to say that we’ve won the war! [applause, sustained] We never quit on you. We never gave up the fight. And that is why we are all standing here today.”

“It was through a great collaborative effort between my Administration and the Federal Government that I was able to start treating the infected, and we are making fantastic progress. It truly is a marvel of modern science and technology that we were able to triumph over this affliction and bring the living dead back to life! [more applause, Diggs waves them off with a wide, accomplished smile]”

“As you all know, we have been tracking the threat for some time now with the Zombie Threat Advisory Level system. I established the system with input from the Department of Homeland Security with the hope that it will serve you, the citizens of the District, in assessing the danger of a zombie attack. Well, ladies and gents, I’d like to announce that for the first time ever, the Advisory Level has officially been downgraded to Green! [rabid applause] What this means is there is no danger of a zombie attack!”

“We have combed the streets and alleys and every last zombie is now safely being treated at the containment site. There, life-saving medications are being administered and slowly, but surely, they are getting healthy. I urge you to be patient and understanding. We are in uncharted waters, but the path is clear. If you are missing loved ones, please file with the District, and we will help you with your reunification efforts.”

“This is a time to remember, a time to come together! [more applause] With dedication and conviction, we shall move forward and once again make this City great!”

“Now you may have noticed the curtains above. As your Mayor, I want to help you move on and recover from this tragedy. I want you to know that I’ve always got your back. I want you to know that you’re not alone, that we are all in this together.”

“And our future together starts today.”

With that, the Mayor raised his hands to monumental applause from the crowd. The curtain retracted, revealing a large LCD screen. Mayor Diggs held out a large, oversized remote and theatrically pressed the large red button in it’s center, which lit up the screen.

In huge red, white and blue letters, it read:

Washington, D.C. – Zombie free for  1  day.

The crowd loved it, and loved him. As far as they knew and cared, Mayor Diggs was The Man Who Saved The District. He’d be reelected in a landslide next Fall. With Barry gone, he controlled the City Council. He was sitting on top of the world.

But it was all just a show. And the speech was just a bunch of feel-good bullshit. I should know. I wrote it for him.

 

45. To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern:

There is nothing glamorous about the end of the zombie apocalypse. There is no moment when the sun shines and the birds start chirping again. There is no parade. There is no dramatic exit music playing as you start a new life with your smoking hot female co-star. No old man looks off into the distance with a tear in his eye. And there is no zombie rat lurking in the alley, offering a threat of a sequel.

There aren’t any of these things, because tragedy never really ends. Tragedy isn’t a story, with a beginning a middle and an end. Tragedy happens. It never un-happens. Just like any good thing we bring into the world, tragedy lives on as long as we do.

But people get over tragedy. People justify and blame and repent and pray and try to understand, all so that they can forget. And just like the tragedy itself, the forgetting has to start somewhere.

And that is where you come in.

*******************

I sat there at my desk in my empty office at the District Department of Undead Management reading this letter attached to the contact list and instructions sent to me by the Mayor. Now that things are under control, it was apparently my job to start calling people and telling them it’s safe to come home. I need a raise.

“Hello, Mr./Ms. So and So? This is Robert Dingle from the Government. I am calling to let you know that it is now safe to return to the District. All of the remaining Undead have been contained and are being treated. We anticipate those that remain to make a full recovery. If you are missing a loved one, please file an affidavit with the District Department of Undead Management. Please take the time to pass this message along to fellow residents and co-workers. I know the past few months have been hard on you, just know that the Government is fully operational and has everything under control. Thank you, and have a blessed day.”

That was my script. Over the next seven hours I repeated that hundreds of times, from Mr. Aardvark to Ms. Xylophone. It became second nature.

“Yes, ma’am, the power is on. In fact, it never went out.”

“No, I do not know if anyone has been feeding your dog the past week.”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t heard from your daughter.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. Zombies. I know, pretty wild right? They’ve been attacking humans in DC for the past few months. No? Well in that case, have a great day.”

“Yes, it’s completely safe, I promise.”

“No, this is not a prank call.”

It’s hard work telling people that the storm is over. No one really believes you, and explain all you want, but people are going to believe what they want. I guess it’s the immediacy of the announcement – after all, who was I to declare that the zombie threat has been contained?

So I changed the script. “It will be safe to return to the District next Tuesday, August 30^th 2011.” I was no longer making an announcement, I was spreading good news. People like good news, they don’t like being told what’s what.

So there you have it folks.

There is nothing to worry about. The threat has been neutralized. All the zombies have been contained and they are being treated. They’ll be better soon. If you have any lingering zombie related issues, give us a call or stop by when you get back into town, we’ll take care of it for you. It’ll take some time for things to get back to normal, but if we just stick together, it’ll all work out just fine.

So take the weekend to get your things in order, and we’ll see you all next week…

********************

Stay tuned.

 

44. The Other Side of the Coin

The cold metal door of Dr. Cadore’s secret lab shut behind us.

“That was creepy as hell man,” said Pete, “I’m still not exactly sure what’s going on, but when a strangle little bearded scientist tells you to get out of town before it’s too late, I think it’s pretty clear what we’re going to do.”

“But where do we go?” I questioned, “what if everywhere else is like this too? We’ll just be leaving everything we know to end up in some other zombie festering shit hole.”

“I don’t know where we go. Not here. That’s good enough for me man.”

As we walked down the hall back towards the elevator, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Dingle? You there? It’s Mayor Diggs, where the hell are you, I’ve been calling your office all morning.” He was yelling into the phone and there was wind clogging the mic.

Pete lipped a “who is it?” and I mouthed back, “it’s the Mayor.” I put the phone on speaker to prove it to Pete, who was giving me a ‘you’re full of shit’ look.

“Yessir, well, I’ve been out of the office for a bit. Um, where are you?” I asked.

“Dingle, I don’t have all day! I’m on the back nine at Augusta. Listen. I need you to go to the Containment Site for me and check up on the progress there. Agent Strauss from the ZCA and I have been working on administering the antibiotics, and I want to know how it’s going.”

“Mr. Mayor, um, I was actually down there this morning…um…checking up on things,” I said, rewriting history [Pete gave me a solid two thumbs up for the acting job]. “It looks like they are almost done rounding up all the remaining Z’s and are in full force administering the medication.”

“Ahhh! Great news, Dingle! Ahead of schedule. I love it. If the budget wasn’t gone to shit, I’d give you a raise! Ok. At this rate we’ll be able to lift the quarantine and allow people to return home in less than a week.”

“Quarantine?” I blurted.

“Of course, we evacuated the city days ago. Get your head out of your ass!”

“Um, Mr. Mayor, this is the first I’m hearing of it.” I looked at Pete, who just shrugged.

“Well of course, Dingle. You are an essential government employee. It’s in your contract…” he said, incredulously. You could hear him place his hand over the receiver, and I could just make out him saying, “kids today, I tell you what! No work ethic,” to whoever was there.

“Dingle, I’ve emailed you a contact list, I need you to start making calls and getting the word out that it’s safe to come back to D.C. Call the web guys too and get the website updated, looks like they’ve been slacking. I’ll be back in a few days,” and he hung up.

“Fuck,” I sighed, “back to work, I guess.”

“What do you mean, ‘back to work?’ We have to get the crap out of here! You heard the Dr.!”

I shook my head. “You heard the Mayor. The ZCA has everything under control and ahead of schedule. He said it’s safe to come back, and it’s my job to tell people that.”

“Give me the keys,” said Pete.

“No.”

“Give me the freaking keys man. I don’t give a shit what the mayor said, a legit, bona fide Scientist – who hates you and probably doesn’t really give a shit about you by the way – just told us to get the fuck out of D.C. while we still can. You’re going to ignore that?”

“Look,” I leveled, “Dr. Cadore is a crazy old man. You’ve seen with your own eyes that the ZCA is almost done rounding up all the zombies – and they’re treating them. I’ve seen with my own eyes that zombies can be cured. I can’t just keep running away from this. This is my home. Yeah, it’s got its issues, but D.C. is my home. This is not the end of things. When all these Z’s are cured, and life is back to normal, I can’t be the one who ran away. I’m not turning my back on this man.”

I could tell that Pete didn’t share my sentiments. I pulled out the keys and held them out. He took them.

“I’ll leave you the screwdriver by the door so you can get a ride home.” And he left.

 

43. A Mad Scientist

“How do you know they’re giving the Zombies antibiotics?” Pete asked with disbelief.

“Because I told them to.”

“Wha?!? But..ehk…you…what?”

“Pete, here is the thing: I work for the District Department of Undead…it’s kind of a long story man. Basically, I got into a huge argument with a zombie scientist, went over his head and told the Mayor that we could cure the zombies if we just pumped them full of drugs. That about sums it up.”

“Um. Ok. You’re serious with this? You can cure zombies? You know the Mayor and some pissed off mad scientist? Who the fuck are you man?”

“I’m just a slightly above average government employee Pete. This has all just kind of happened recently, I don’t know what else to tell you. And yes. You can cure zombies.”

“With antibiotics? I thought it was some sort of wacked out H1N1 virus or something. How does it…”

“It’s better for me to just show you…that’s where we’re headed. I just hope the good Dr. will let us in.”

*****************

There is something strange about parking your stolen car on the sidewalk in front of a government office building that’s next door to police headquarters. It feels liberating and harrowing at the same time. On the one hand, it’d be embarrassing to get arrested for a stolen car that I used to get to my government job. On the other hand, I would kill to see a cop right about now.

The building was empty and quiet. Just a shell of glass and concrete.

Fortunately my ID badge still worked, so getting inside was easy – I hadn’t come up with a plan B. The motion sensors clicked as we walked to the elevators, turning on the lights in our path. As far as I could tell, we were the only ones in the building.

“Where the fuck is the Government when you need them!” Pete shouted around.

“SSSHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh! Don’t draw attention to us, there could be Z’s lurking around.”

We took the elevator up to the seventh floor, passed my office and continued down the hall to the white, unmarked door of Cadore’s secret lab.

I tried my ID badge, but nothing happened. I tried again, as if that would make a difference. Nothing. I knocked on the door. Nothing. I banged on the door. It opened.

No one was on the other side.

We walked down the corridor, lights flicking on ahead of us, and slid open the second door. Cadore’s lab looked exactly as it had before, except that it was completely empty.

I flicked on the lights, illuminating the long lab benches and high-tech equipment.

“What is this place?”

“It’s Dr. Cadore’s lab where he was working on the cure. Over there in the back is where they kept the test subjects,” I said in a vaguely tour guide-esq voice as I pointed towards the back.

I had only taken ten steps toward the back when I heard a loud SNAP! followed immediately by Pete screaming out in pain. I swung around, and there was Dr. Cadore in his white lab coat, swatting at Pete with a retractable metal pointing wand. He had large darkened bags under his eyes, and he was pale.

“I thought I told you never to come back here!” scowled Cadore, waving the wand in the air as he coughed.

“Hey, cut that out!” I demanded, “and you told me I should leave, you never said I couldn’t come back.”

“This is not amusing Mr. Dingle. You do not listen to me. You are foolish and you do not listen.” He swallowed hard.

“Well, I’m listening now. Where is everyone? Where are all the other scientists and the test subjects?”

“The tests are over. All the others went home.”

“What do you mean the tests are over? Is she cured? The baby?”

“No, she has not been cured. She is… she did not make it through the birth, but the child did.”

“Um, does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Pete chimed in.

Cadore didn’t respond. “I am caring for the child here, myself. The hospital would not take her for fear of infection. They are imbeciles. The child is healthy. And I continue my research here, alone. After you left, Mayor Diggs ended all funding for my program. That is why no one else remains. They’ve all gone home.”

“Holy shit, doc. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you all this trouble, I just wanted to…”

“Enough! You just did what you wanted to do. You wanted to be the hero. You wanted to be in the good eye of the Mayor. You were selfish. And now you and your little friend must go.”

“Can I at least see the baby?”

“No. You must leave. And not come back. Leave me to my work!”

“But we can’t just go back out there!” I snapped back, “they’re still rounding up all the zombies for treatment. It’s not safe…”

“What did you say? They are administering the drugs?” he perked.

“Well, yes. The ZCA is hoarding them back into the containment site and they are pumping in antibiotic treated blood – I think – to feed them all.”

“How long has this been going on for? Nevermind. Forget about that. Robert, listen to me: I don’t respect you. But you need to listen to me now. Leave D.C. There is nothing that you can do to fix this problem. It’s too big, and you cannot make a difference. Leave while you still can. Now.”

Dr. Cadore turned around and walked off without saying more. Pete and I were left standing in the middle of the lab, speechless.

In the distance I could hear the sound of a baby crying.

“Sssshhhhh, my little one. The stupid men are leaving. I will protect you my child. For as long as I live.”