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Authors: Robert Swartwood
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place does exist. We just don’t know where it is.”
For the longest time Conrad was silent. He was having a hard enough time accepting everything else he’d seen and heard so far—and that scene in the zombie’s room, the zombie extending its hand for Conrad to shake, kept haunting him—but now this was starting to become too much. Yes, he’d heard about Heaven before—what dead person hadn’t, especially a Hunter?—but every time it was mentioned there was always that silent acknowledgment that the story was nothing more than a myth.
Mostly the stories came from those pro-living extremists who believed that the zombies weren’t evil at all, adults who actually encouraged their children to try to become living when they turned ten. These were the people who hated Hunters, who tried everything they could to destroy them, and who very recently tried expiring Conrad.
As the myth went, after the Zombie Wars, when the dead began to conquer the planet and began rebuilding, those living that were left created for themselves a society. Those that believed the place actually existed said that it had to be underground, as countless satellite images showed all over the world no city or town or even village that was not inhabited by the dead. It was in this place, what someone long ago named Heaven and by which name the city had been referred to ever since, that the zombies had built a community where they lived and breathed and did everything a zombie did.
It was where, according to Albert, infant zombies were born.
Before Conrad could say anything, the office door opened. A woman in a long white coat entered, carrying a small black container. The container looked to be made of plastic, about the size of a shoebox. She took the container to the desk, set it carefully on top, and slowly backed away.
Albert nodded, thanked her, and the woman left.
“This,” Albert said, and gently laid a hand on top of the black container, “is the other way zombies are created.”
Chapter 9
There were latches on all four sides of the container. Albert undid each, as gently and carefully as the woman had placed it on the desk, and opened the lid. He set the lid aside, paused to take a breath, and slowly reached inside the container.
Conrad hadn’t realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat, inching closer and closer to see what was inside, until he almost fell off.
But the scientist did not bring anything out of the container. He seemed to pause, reconsider, then brought his hands out empty. He said, “I apologize, but before I show you this, I have one final question. What do you know of the Zombie Wars?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long did they last?”
“About two months.”
“And the outcome?”
“We destroyed almost all of the living. We conquered the world.”
Keeping his gaze level with Conrad’s, Albert said, “Yes, that is what the Government wants all the dead children in the world to learn. But would you be surprised if I told you that information is far from the truth?”
Conrad said nothing, now staring intently at the black container.
“The Zombie Wars actually lasted two years,” Albert said. “And it was not an easy campaign for either side.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Conrad asked. His impatience was growing, so much so he was ready to shoot out of his chair just to get a glimpse of what was inside the black container.
“I’m telling you this in the hope that it’ll be easier for you to understand. At the end of the Zombie Wars, both sides started using weapons of … well, mass destruction. Chemical bombs, hydrogen bombs, atom bombs, and in some areas even nuclear bombs. Much of the continental earth was affected. And somehow—we’re still not able to understand this fully—this assault changed the substrata of our planet. It created pockets of contained energy. And what is life, Conrad, but a form of energy?”
Albert reached back
For the longest time Conrad was silent. He was having a hard enough time accepting everything else he’d seen and heard so far—and that scene in the zombie’s room, the zombie extending its hand for Conrad to shake, kept haunting him—but now this was starting to become too much. Yes, he’d heard about Heaven before—what dead person hadn’t, especially a Hunter?—but every time it was mentioned there was always that silent acknowledgment that the story was nothing more than a myth.
Mostly the stories came from those pro-living extremists who believed that the zombies weren’t evil at all, adults who actually encouraged their children to try to become living when they turned ten. These were the people who hated Hunters, who tried everything they could to destroy them, and who very recently tried expiring Conrad.
As the myth went, after the Zombie Wars, when the dead began to conquer the planet and began rebuilding, those living that were left created for themselves a society. Those that believed the place actually existed said that it had to be underground, as countless satellite images showed all over the world no city or town or even village that was not inhabited by the dead. It was in this place, what someone long ago named Heaven and by which name the city had been referred to ever since, that the zombies had built a community where they lived and breathed and did everything a zombie did.
It was where, according to Albert, infant zombies were born.
Before Conrad could say anything, the office door opened. A woman in a long white coat entered, carrying a small black container. The container looked to be made of plastic, about the size of a shoebox. She took the container to the desk, set it carefully on top, and slowly backed away.
Albert nodded, thanked her, and the woman left.
“This,” Albert said, and gently laid a hand on top of the black container, “is the other way zombies are created.”
Chapter 9
There were latches on all four sides of the container. Albert undid each, as gently and carefully as the woman had placed it on the desk, and opened the lid. He set the lid aside, paused to take a breath, and slowly reached inside the container.
Conrad hadn’t realized he was sitting on the edge of his seat, inching closer and closer to see what was inside, until he almost fell off.
But the scientist did not bring anything out of the container. He seemed to pause, reconsider, then brought his hands out empty. He said, “I apologize, but before I show you this, I have one final question. What do you know of the Zombie Wars?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long did they last?”
“About two months.”
“And the outcome?”
“We destroyed almost all of the living. We conquered the world.”
Keeping his gaze level with Conrad’s, Albert said, “Yes, that is what the Government wants all the dead children in the world to learn. But would you be surprised if I told you that information is far from the truth?”
Conrad said nothing, now staring intently at the black container.
“The Zombie Wars actually lasted two years,” Albert said. “And it was not an easy campaign for either side.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Conrad asked. His impatience was growing, so much so he was ready to shoot out of his chair just to get a glimpse of what was inside the black container.
“I’m telling you this in the hope that it’ll be easier for you to understand. At the end of the Zombie Wars, both sides started using weapons of … well, mass destruction. Chemical bombs, hydrogen bombs, atom bombs, and in some areas even nuclear bombs. Much of the continental earth was affected. And somehow—we’re still not able to understand this fully—this assault changed the substrata of our planet. It created pockets of contained energy. And what is life, Conrad, but a form of energy?”
Albert reached back
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