A Zombie Story

Chapter 6: Bound X Declined

Finn screamed in searing pain. He could almost feel his flesh boil as they slowly tore apart. He repeatedly slammed his head against the dirt from the raging headache as though somebody put a wedge in every crack of his skull. All that while his limbs shot in all directions—he was miserable. The opioid stood no match.

Zombies started to gather around him but surprisingly enough, they—who normally didn’t hesitate to sink their teeth into somebody else’s flesh—didn’t attack him. They simply stood around him, seemingly confused. Finn was in the middle of transitioning into one of them. At this point, Finn wasn’t quite human. Not quite a zombie either.

He shouldn’t be transitioning until the 48-hour mark but for some reason, it happened early.

Then amidst it all, a gunshot reverberated. It came from a man at the side of the van—a beefy, tall man. Beside him was a petite woman who was a bit taller than average.

“What do you think, Jimmy?” Said the woman. “And that—that person was supposed to save us all? You’re kidding me, right?”

She was becoming more convinced their oldest had gone crazy.

“Trying won’t hurt,” Jimmy told her and shrugged.  He sent a barrage of bullets at the zombies encircling Finn, taking out those approaching and the ones lured by the sound of gunshots.

Having taken down all the zombies, they slowly made their way to Finn, who was still grappling with pain.

“I’ll pin him down, you do what you have to do.”

Adara nodded in confirmation.

Without missing a beat, Jimmy jumped into action. He planted both of his knees on either side of Finn’s waist, keeping his thrashing arms locked overhead. And using his own weight,  Jimmy successfully immobilized Finn.

“Do it now, Adara.”

“I… Okay.”

She kneeled beside Finn and with her steady hands, she grasped the syringe filled with blue liquid, its slightly glowing content shimmered. She carefully positioned the needle against his arm and as the plunger depressed, a surge of that blue liquid infiltrated his veins.

They waited. Then after 30 seconds, Finn’s wild movement abruptly ceased. He went completely still. He passed out.

“Exceptional work, both of you. Now tie him with these and put him in the van. We’re bringing him to the camp.” It was Franklin who was now wearing a dirty white coat. He tossed a muzzle and chains in Jimmy’s direction.

Although feeling a bit confused, the two just went along with it. Jimmy gave Adara a look, telling her to keep quiet and not say anything extra.

They hadn’t seen how shaken Franklin was the moment he turned his back on them. The way he tightened his hold on his binoculars. 

‘That definitely wasn’t George in the car. Where is he in a crucial time like this? And who was that guy?’

***

August 6th, Sunday, 3:10 p.m., Wantuki Forest Camp.

A white van covered in solar panels cruised through the forest, leaving behind evidence of multiple visits as branches were trimmed and thickets were cleared. It traveled smoothly, encountering zombies only to fend them off with either crossbows or by running them over.

“Watch out for any walkers.” Franklin warned Adara, as he instructed Jimmy to retrieve Finn from the van. They were now in an open field, situated in the Wantuki Forest Camp. This camp used to be popular among campers before the outbreak, but now it was a desolate place that even zombies rarely ventured into. People had abandoned such hiding spots when bunkers emerged.

Finn, wearing a muzzle, now wide awake and fiercely struggled against his chains. With bloodshot eyes and foaming mouth, he repeatedly screamed one word: “Saaaaaaaaam! Saaaaaaaaaaam!” It was a guttural, phlegm-filled scream that drilled a hole into everyone’s ears; he could have passed as a rockstar vocalist.

“Don’t bother, young lad. Just play nice and all will be well,” Professor Franklin advised, as he brushed aside fallen leaves to expose a reinforced steel door.

“Saaaaaaaam!” Finn screamed back at him.

“Haha. A feisty one, eh? This one seemed to retain his memories.” Said Franklin — amused.

He nudged the steel door and pushed it up. Concrete stairs appeared, inviting them to descend, while Finn was dragged along instead of being carried.

Adara closed the door back as she was the last in the row, using a solar-powered flashlight to light their path. As they descended deeper, a strong, unpleasant smell of chemicals and burning flesh became noticeable. When they reached the floor, she switched on the fluorescent light to brighten the area.

“Saaaam! Saaaaaaaaaaam!” Screamed Finn again as he tried to break free.

“Where do we put him?” Asked Jimmy, fatigue evident in his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t get any rest soon. He was aware that their oldest would be conducting strange experiments again and needed their help.

“Put him wherever you want. Just make it so he won’t break free.” Replied Franklin.

But though he said that, there was really no other place to put Finn except to chain him against the wall. Picture this: an underground bunker made of stone, measuring 10x10 feet. As soon as you descended the stairs, your eyes would be met with an unused three-layer bunk bed in the corner, unused because of the place’s nauseating odor. The three preferred sleeping in their van instead.

Beside the bed, there stood a long desk perfectly aligned with the wall. This was Professor Franklin’s collection of nerdy items, from scientific equipment like test tubes, beakers, petri dishes, to a peculiar cauldron filled with green bubbling liquid, simmering gently. It sat directly under the ventilation system. On the floor, freeze-dried zombies were scattered, waiting to be discarded.

Across from the table stood a refrigerator-sized freeze dryer, assembled by Professor Franklin using parts he cunningly procured from abandoned shops. Its power derived from the solar panels positioned above ground. The unassuming wall that separated the stairs from the desk served as Finn’s inescapable binding point.

“Saaaaaam! Saaaaaaaaaaaam!” Finn’s boisterous voice echoed once again—making his presence known.

“We know. We know, young lad. You don’t have to scream. Geez!" Franklin remarked, diving straight into his tests.

***

August 6th, Sunday, 10:21 p.m., Lucena.

Dr. Martinez finally arrived at his destination. A bunker surrounded by thick, reinforced concrete walls that loomed in the city. It was very tall and especially huge.

Three years into the apocalypse, the survivors have started to band together to recreate the civilization they’d lost and the bunker was the product of those.

Inside were tiny animal farms and agriculture mainly focused on rice and easy to grow vegetables and root crops like potatoes and stuff. They developed their own currency to avoid the chaos in supply distribution.

After three years, people realized zombies were dumb and could only contaminate them through biting so they thought about building these impenetrable walls.

However, there was a problem.

“What do you mean I can’t get in?” Said Dr. Martinez—slightly agitated.

“We already have too many people inside, sir. I’m really sorry. We could barely feed everyone here. The crops aren't growing well enough these days and the cattles are dying one by one.”  Replied the bald soldier. “But if you want, there is a bunker in Salamangka. I heard they’re still accepting people. You have a car so it should only take about a day.”

“But it's running out of juice!” Dr. Martinez said in frustration, referring to the battery. Solar powered-cars rely on solar panels to capture sunlight and convert it into energy, but since it was a cloudy day throughout, it resulted in a decrease in power generation.

“Well, you can always charge it in the morning, sir.”

“Ha! Fine! I am a doctor. I could help treat the injured.”

“We already have enough doctors inside, sir. Though Salamangka might need your service.”

“Damn!” Dr. Martinez cursed when the bald soldier left.