

ZOMBIE SCHOOL

101: SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

by Aaron Jenkins

Copyright 2015 Aaron Jenkins

Smashwords Edition

## CONTENTS

1. I AM A TEENAGE ZOMBIE

2. THE PERKS OF BEING A ZOMBIE

3. ZOMBIE EDUCATION

4. THE HUMAN DILEMMA

5. ZOMBIE SHENANIGANS

6. BORED STIFF

7. THE ZOMBIE'S APPRENTICE

8. ZOMBIE NIGHTS

9. HUMAN BREEDING 101

10. ZOMBIES AFTER DARK

11. DUMB ZOMBIE THINGS

12. CHASING SHADOWS

13. REVENGE OF THE STIFFS

14. DEAD WEIGHT

15. BAD BLOOD

16. MY PET HUMAN

17. BACK TO SQUARE 1

18. CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS

19. ZOMBIE PROBATION

20. THE ZOMBIE MAN

21. BREAKING IN

22. WELCOME TO ZOMBIE HELL

23. COLD HANDS

24. LORD OF THE FLIES

25. DAMNED

26. ZOMBIE ON THE RUN

27. WORSE THINGS

28. LOSSES

29. LIFE AND DEATH

30. AWAKENINGS

31. ALMOST HOME

32. SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

ZOMBILOGUE

## 1. I AM A TEENAGE ZOMBIE

Math is hard. Even more so if you're a zombie—which I am. No matter how much I try to focus on the formulas and memorize them, all I can seem to think about is brains. Four times nine equals ... brains! Four squared is ... brains! Brains plus brains equals ... yum! I'm telling you. If you think math is hard, try being a zombie. School is way harder when you're a zombie.

## 2. THE PERKS OF BEING A ZOMBIE

I sat at my desk, doodling a picture of a plump, knobby brain over the lined paper of my notebook. It looked so good I wanted to eat it off the page. But I restrained myself. Nothing was more embarrassing in zombie school than devouring your notebook because you couldn't control your brain cravings.

My name is Zellner Olander.

Pause.

Now I know what you're going to say. Zellner the Zombie? I know. But I think it's sort of poetic justice, like I was meant to be a zombie. I only know my name was Zellner because of the student ID I had in my wallet when I was zombified. Zellner had actually been my last name. But my first name was too boring. It was so boring I won't even tell you what it was. Zellner sounded so much cooler, so that's who I am. Zellner. It oozes epicness, don't you think?

I go to school at Oakrest High School in Revenant. Revenant is the name of our zombie town, a collection of communities we have developed after humans had been driven out of the area. Only adolescent zombies go to school at Oakrest. The older zombies who are being educated go to the learning center. We didn't name the high school, by the way. It was given that name by the humans who used to live in this area, and there wasn't much sense in changing it. Oakrest used to be a town inhabited by humans in the Northeast of America, before zombies took over the world. All of the buildings we occupied were former human structures. We really don't have the resources to start constructing our own buildings yet. We're mostly focused on surviving, thankyouverymuch.

Oakrest High School is pretty big. It has two floors, though the south end is burned out. There's a huge hole in the wall where the gym had been, and the interior stretching back to the cafeteria had been scorched and destroyed. We usually do gym outside, though, so it works out. As zombies we can't really get into better shape, but it helps keep our bodies limber and flexible. If a zombie sits or stands still for too long, his muscles start to get stiff.

My friend Trevor thinks being a zombie is the best thing ever. And while education can be a real drag at times, especially when that midday brain craving hits, I can't really disagree with him. There's a lot of perks of being a zombie – we are tough, and strong, and immortal, unless our brains are destroyed. Yeah, being a zombie is pretty awesome.

I don't remember what it was like to be human, though I was one for sixteen years. Zombies don't retain memories after they reanimate, only residual skills they may have developed in their human lives. We think it has something to do with muscle memory, but it's hard to say. Zombie science has come a long way, but there's still a lot to learn.

I know what you're thinking right now, Joe (for the sake of convenience, and because I don't know anything about you, I'm going to assume your name is Joe. Feel free to insert your real name in its place). Zombie science? Zombie school? I thought zombies were mindless. I thought all zombies wanted to do was kill and eat people. I didn't know zombies could talk, or write, or even think.

Well, Joe, let me tell you, it surprises most people. But that's where zombie school comes in. Let me break it down for you.

The things you know about zombies are generally true, depending on what you might have heard. Zombies only have one instinct – to eat living human brains. That's it. That's what they live for. Outside of that, the life of zombie is pretty meaningless. Most zombies spend their entire deaths mindlessly searching for fresh human brains to devour, and when they aren't doing that, they busy themselves with all the fun and excitement that being a capricious, mindless Neanderthal yields.

The zombie awakening happened decades ago. I don't even know if I had been born yet at the time. We don't have a lot of information on the details. With the human race ravaged by the voracious undead, written histories sort of fell by the wayside. What we do know is that a virus began to spread. It wasn't a deadly virus, and it came quietly and undetected. A human would never even know he was infected in his lifetime. Only his loved ones would realize it, some hours after he drifted peacefully into a natural death, when his corpse reanimated and tried to devour them.

The virus is passed through bodily fluids. It wasn't such a bad virus, in of itself. Those infected got to lead perfectly normal, healthy lives. The problem came afterward, when the dead reawakened. The virus would easily be transmitted to any humans the newly born zombie attacked, and in the event that the zombie didn't succeed in devouring its prey's brain, a new zombie was born out of the human's eventual death. Thus began the zombie inception.

It wasn't long before zombies made up a majority of the world's population. That was helped by the fact that zombies only died when their brains stopped functioning. And as long as a zombie gets a fresh brain every few months, its brain will stay active. Zombies take a long time to die out. It's no wonder we took over the world as quickly as we did.

I realize that none of this sounds very auspicious on the surface. I have to admit, the idea of being a mindless ravenous reanimated corpse doesn't exactly sound all that gratifying. And it's not. An afterlife like that is almost as good as being dead. Almost.

Thankfully for me, I'm not in that boat. Because not all zombies are mindless and ravenous. Not anymore. Something happened, a long time ago. Somehow, zombies got smart.

I chewed on the end of my pencil, gnawing at the eraser. It was so pink and soft I could have sworn it was a juicy piece of brain. I shook my head and forced myself to stare forward at the blackboard, making myself jot down the formula that was written in chalk on it. Honestly, when in the world was a zombie ever going to have to do algebra? It's not like we had to calculate the circumference of some dude's head before we cracked it open and scarfed down his brain.

We don't know exactly how some zombies gained intelligence. That's a pretty big mystery, kind of like trying to understand how exactly humans got smarter than all the other animals in the world. We just did. And we didn't just get smart. We gained awareness. We learned how to do things that most humans are capable of doing – thinking, speaking, writing, and control. Autonomy. Pretty cool, right? Well, if you're a zombie, it's the best thing that's happened since sliced brains. It kind of sucks for humans. And Joe, if you're a human, I'm sorry about that. But that's life.

From then on, zombies started to learn. That's when zombie education began.

##  3. ZOMBIE EDUCATION

Have you ever heard the expression "if you give an infinite number of monkeys a typewriter and give them an infinite amount of time, they will write Shakespeare?" That's sort of how zombie education starts.

If you put a zombie in a room with enough time, and enough motivation, eventually, it will learn.

It's sort of like those lab rat experiments, where you put rats in a maze, and if they go the right way, they get a piece of cheese. You give a zombie a test. If it gets the answer right, it gets a piece of brain. Eventually, after a while, to get the brain, the zombie has to learn. And it does. Because zombies will do anything for human brains. True story.

And that's how the zombie race split off.

Not all zombies get educated. In a world overrun by zombies that's just impossible. Especially considering our fledgling community of smart zombies is still in its relative infancy. And thankfully, most zombies seem incapable of learning without some sort of formal education to guide them. Thankfully because if all zombies in the world were smart, there wouldn't be enough human brains to go around to keep us all unliving.

We have to draw the line somewhere. And while we acknowledge that the uneducated zombies of the world are our brothers in some ways, they are also our ancestors. And in the same way that we can't be sympathetic for humans, which we all used to be once, we hold no sympathy for the uneducated undead. They are mindless. They are the past. We are the future.

We call zombies who haven't been educated Stiffs. They're still dead, mentally speaking. They have no awareness and no self-control. They can be pretty dangerous, if you aren't careful. They will attack anything that moves, living or undead, and devour it. As long as we keep our distance, though, they aren't much of a threat. But despite their lack of intelligence, they are faster and stronger than humans and most animals. Humans are a zombie's natural prey.

We, on the other hand, who have been or are being educated, are Wakes. We know what's up.

And then there's humans.

## 4. THE HUMAN DILEMMA

We don't hate humans. We have nothing against them. In fact, most of our education and learning is a result of them. The books they wrote, the schools and communities they built, and the languages and ideas they created are all an important part of zombie education. And we all used to be human at one point.

We literally couldn't exist without them.

Here's the problem.

We need humans. Not in a sentimental way. Sentimentality is for humans.

We need their brains.

There's a reason Stiffs crave living human brains. It keeps zombies going. Our organs have stopped, we don't grow, our hearts don't beat. But there's one thing about us that is still working.

Our brains.

And why do they keep working?

We feed them.

We feed them living human brains.

Our brains would literally shut down if we stopped eating human brains. We'd die. Not human die. Zombie die. And once a zombie dies, it can't come back. Forget about anything you've heard about zombies raising from the grave. You only become a zombie if you're infected with the zombie virus at death. It keeps the cerebral cortex of your brain alive when the rest of you dies. Once your brain dies, forget it. You're dead. Not human dead. Dead dead. It's absolute death.

The problem is that zombies' brains don't just keep working. They wear out. And eventually they die. Unless they're fed. And there's only one thing that keeps a zombie's brain alive and working.

You guessed it, Joe.

Living, human brains. Specifically, the cerebral cortex has the greatest effect.

We've tried other animals. Their brains do zilch. Even monkey brains don't have any effect, even though they're close to humans evolutionarily speaking. I bet that Darwin had a nice big juicy brain come to think of it. Sorry. I'm still learning to curb my cravings. I'm getting better. Anyway. We've tried dead brains, or zombie brains. Nada. Only living, human brains recharge us and keep us going. I mean like fresh out of the skull brains. We've figured out ways to preserve them with chemicals, but that's only if you do it right away and if the brain isn't infected with the zombie virus. The longer an infected brain is inactive, the more the virus spreads through it. And the more the brain is infected, the less effect it has on revitalizing us.

The longer you're a zombie, the more your brain wears out. Once you've been zombified for a couple years, you need at least one morsel of brain every few months to keep yourself going. Zombies gradually lose brain function over time when they haven't fed on human brains. Eventually we fall into a comatose state. The longer you go without brains, the harder it is to come out of it and become awake again. After a few months or so, brain activity just fades away, and then there's nothing, and there's no coming out. The brain dies.

There's another problem for Wakes. The longer we go without eating a piece of living, human brain, the dumber we become. Our brains stop working, and we revert back to our former Stiff selves. We call that skidding. Yeah, it sucks. But that's just the way things are. Wakes can't go more than a few days without having a piece of human brain, or else they skid and start to become like Stiffs again.

And then there's the human dilemma. There aren't a lot left. Most of the Stiffs have devoured them. The ones they haven't are in hiding, and they're tough to find and capture, because they've gotten good at defending themselves against zombies. We're sort of going through a human famine. It isn't pretty. But thankfully we have enough brain preserves to last us a while. The government makes sure to give us weekly updates to assure us that there are enough brain preserves to keep Revenant and its inhabitants functioning for some time, delivered by the town's spokeszombie, the ever-beaming Mayor Hillard. Even so, brain preserves won't last forever, and we have to work feverishly to replenish the allotment we use daily.

And that's why human tracking is so important.

My mentor is Bill Barton. He's the lead human tracker for our community. I live in square 1 in zone A. It's really close to the border of Revenant so it's the best place for human tracking in our zone.

All zombies that are still being educated are given a mentor to help them navigate through their undead experience. It's all a bit of a shock at first, honestly. One minute you know nothing, and then all of a sudden you can start to think and reason and speak. It's bizarre. It's probably what it's like if you could remember being a baby and growing up. All Wakes begin their afterlife in preliminary school, where they're taught the basics – speaking, reasoning, and understanding. That usually takes about a year. Even though we can't remember our past lives, the information is still there, buried in our brains, so it's really just relearning what we already knew at one point. Our brains have already formed and the information is there. It's just a matter of reeducating ourselves. We may have forgotten what it's like to be human, but our brains didn't.

After pre-school, we're placed into formal education at Oakrest if we died when we were young, or the learning center if you were an adult. We all have jobs that are given to us based on the skills we showed during pre-school, and that determines who our mentor is. I must have shown some proficiency for human tracking in pre-school, because I had been assigned one of the best human trackers in town as my mentor.

Human trackers search for and capture humans, preferably alive so that they can be evaluated. The young adult humans are usually kept and corralled for breeding. Younger kids and older adults are usually used as fodder – that's a nice way of saying that we eat them. Some we evaluate and determine they would be more useful if they were zombified and educated as Wakes, but only if they seem to have some skill that would translate into something useful for the zombie community, like human tracking, which we are in desperate need of. Zombies don't retain their memories after they revive, but most skills that they had as humans can be more easily replicated as zombies in pre-school.

Lately, though, we haven't had many new zombies brought in for education. That has a lot to do with the human dilemma. There aren't enough rations to go around, so that makes it hard to keep educating Stiffs. This year only three zombies were brought in past preliminary school. Two went to the adult center, and one was a kid they brought into my school. He was being taught to be a speaker of state affairs. Zombie kids that were brought in to take a government role were rare. I guess he showed a lot of potential during pre-school.

It's been really tough lately to find humans. They have gotten really good at hiding, and they only come out at night when they need supplies. Stiffs have a tendency to rest at night, and seem to be awakened by the sunlight, so it's safer to scavenge at night. Most stay in the human safe zone, which we haven't been able to find. No humans we've captured have ever given any information about its location, though we've gotten a few details about what it's like.

That's why human trackers are so important. Decades ago, when zombie education had just started, it was easier, because there weren't as many Stiffs. The more years that passed, the more Stiffs and the fewer humans there were. Along the way they learned strategies to defend themselves against Stiffs, like keeping quiet or moving slowly. They've become a lot more conservative in recent years. They never come out in daylight now. Only at night. When they do, they're really careful and hard to spot. And they're good at defending themselves. They usually have some sort of weapon, usually a gun. Most tools like knives and heavy objects are pretty ineffective against zombies. Our skin is tough and difficult to pierce, and humans, for the most part, aren't strong enough to break it. It requires the superhuman strength of a zombie to take out another zombie. Guns, on the other hand, are the most effective weapon to use against zombies. The velocity of a bullet is enough to rip through a zombie's head and pierce its brain. An armed human can be a real concern for any zombie, Stiff or Wake. Human trackers try not to engage armed humans, and when they do, they always wear protective gear and helmets. An unprepared Wake can meet its ultimate demise at the hands of a frightened human if he isn't careful.

Human tracking can be a pretty dangerous occupation. That's why human trackers always travel in groups. It's not safe otherwise.

Let me tell you, Joe, if you thought life as a zombie was easy, that it's all fun and games, I'm here to tell you that it's not. Zombie life is just as tough as any life. But you have to make the best of it. Sometimes you just have to be grateful to be living dead.

## 5. ZOMBIE SHENANIGANS

I dropped my pencil and let it roll on my desktop, the pink eraser gnarled into an unrecognizable shape. I couldn't concentrate. Math was my last class of the day. That's when my cravings got the worst. I have gotten a lot better at controlling them. That's part of zombie education too. You're no good to the zombie community if you can't curb your brain cravings. But the longer you go without brains, the harder it is. The Wakes who have been around for a while are a lot better at it. I'm still learning. I've only been in zombie school for a year and a half, and the year before I spent in pre-school, having my mind slowly re-taught the basics of thinking and speaking.

I didn't know how the twenty or so other zombie kids in class could stand it, but when I looked around I could see they were getting as restless as I was. Zombie feet tapped up and down anxiously on the linoleum floor, zombie bodies squirmed in their hard, uncomfortable seats, and zombie hands clenched at the fabric of their stiff jeans. We wore typical human teenager attire, whatever had been dug out of the closets of the humans that had lived in town before we controlled it, or any human brought in by breeders that fit, were comfortable, and we deemed cool enough. Zombies shared many traits with humans, and pride was one of them. Zombies did not like being naked, especially since it tended to show off our zombie scars – abrasions, wounds, loose, wrinkled skin, and the like. We may be dead, but we don't have to look it, at least not so much on the surface.

I folded my arms over my desk and buried my head in them, trying to quiet the pounding in my head. My mind was starting to play tricks on me. Visions of cerebellums were dancing in my head. I just needed class to end, but Mr. Melbourne wouldn't shut his brain hole. I didn't know how he could talk about something as boring as math for so long. If I had to focus my whole life on studying and reciting math formulas and calculations, I'd probably die again of boredom.

"Hey!" a voice behind me chirped.

Kids were stifling their giggles. Something sailed over my head and landed on a desk two rows away from me. I shook my head. Didn't they ever get tired of this?

"Keep away from Peg-ear!" someone whispered harshly.

Peggy, sitting directly behind me, was fuming. I felt bad. It's not her fault her mentor couldn't afford to take her to a tailor. Things were really tight, and most Wakes couldn't afford anything but the bare necessities.

"Give it back," she hissed behind me.

"What?" the kid two rows away, Anthony, called in a whisper. "I couldn't quite make that out. Wait. Let me try this." Then he held Peggy's ear up to the side of his head and set his face straight, feigning attention.

"Very funny," she shot back. "Come on!"

This was a semi-daily event. Either in class, or the hallways, or the school campus. It was a running joke.

Peggy was always getting made fun of for losing her right ear. Her mentor couldn't afford to take her to a tailor to get it patched. When a body part had been lost prior to reanimating, or in the course of the wear and tear of everyday zombie life, Wakes could opt to have it reattached by a tailor. It wouldn't operate as it had before, so it was mostly for show. Most zombies were missing some sort of body part – that was a necessary consequence of being zombified – but most didn't like the idea of appearing maimed or incomplete, especially teenage zombies in school, where looks seemed to matter more than anything. Vanity thy name is zombie.

Since her mentor couldn't afford to have it patched, Peggy usually had her ear pinned in place with some needles, but it almost never lasted the whole day. It had almost become a game to try to sneak her ear off when she wasn't looking and see how long it would take her to notice it was gone. Peggy had pleaded with her mentor to get her ear patched, even offering to skip a ration of brain a day to help offset the cost, but she refused. Peggy's mentor was a courier. It wasn't the most lucrative zombie profession.

"Can you even hear me without this? Hello, Peg-ear!" Anthony called, waving her ear in Peggy's direction.

"You're a real cut-up!" Peggy shot back. "Just give it back." She started to get up from her seat.

"Oh, sure, Peg, here," the boy extended the ear toward her. Then he flung it across the room.

Now you may wondering, Joe, why Mr. Melbourne hadn't done anything yet to stop these zombie shenanigans. Well, Mr. Melbourne is a very good math teacher, but his body is not in the best condition. He was older when he died as a human, and his eyesight wasn't very good, and he had never been able to find a pair of glasses that quite matched his prescription after he was zombified. There were always a lot of, "Yes, you's" or "Very good, son's" or "Well done, missy's" when he called on you in class. His hearing was even worse than his eyes, and you practically had to shout at him across the room for him to hear you. Mr. Melbourne's class was a hotbed for zombie shenanigans.

"You aren't funny," Peggy seethed.

"Keep away from Peg-ear!" someone shouted.

And the ear was tossed across the room again. Kids were laughing. Mr. Melbourne was still going on about some math formula. He squinted in the general direction of his students. Then he turned back to the chalkboard, satisfied that his students were behaving as far as he was aware.

"Come on," Peggy moaned. "You know if I lose that ear my mentor can't afford another one! Give it back!"

I felt bad for Peggy. Some zombies didn't know what it was like to have a defect that hadn't been patched. I was personally a little ashamed of the pointer finger on my right hand. It had no skin on it. There was just a long, thin white bone, jointed together, extending out from my hand at the knuckle. The rest of my fingers and hand had skin. It was likely that the Stiff that zombified me had tried to bite my finger off when he attacked me, but only tore off my flesh. I could always get a new finger attached, but that was costly, and if an appendage worked, there was no reason to replace it. It was sort of an unwritten zombie rule. We didn't like to waste resources out of conceit. Of course, teenagers had their own rules and judgments.

"Come on, stop," Peggy pleaded as the ear sailed across the room again. "You guys aren't funny."

More giggles. Mr. Melbourne was pointing at the chalkboard, emphasizing the importance of this math formula. Nobody was paying attention.

Another kid picked up the ear and threw it across the room in my direction. I jumped out of my seat and caught the ear in my hand as it flew overhead, knocking over my chair in the process. Game over.

"Here, Peggy," I said, handing the ear back to her. The students in the class groaned. I may be a smartass, but I wasn't a jerk either. It's one thing to make fun of someone. It's something else entirely to abuse their appendages for your own amusement.

Peggy gratefully accepted her ear. "Thank you. I swear, you're the only gentlezombie in this whole barbaric school," she said, taking the ear and carefully pinning it to the side of her head again.

I bowed slightly. "Always glad to be of service, ma'am."

"Zellner Olander!" Mr. Melbourne's voice quivered across the room.

"Yes, Mr. Melbourne?" I called across to him, as if shouting over a horde of groaning Stiffs.

"I've had it up to here with your shenanigans," Mr. Melbourne said, holding his hand flat to his head.

"Shenanigans?" I said in my seemingly permanently cracking voice. The joys of being zombified during puberty. I looked around. My chair lay on the floor and I stood in the middle of the classroom, among a bunch of innocent looking school zombies with their hands folded and looking attentively ahead at Mr. Melbourne's latest equation. That was just my luck.

"When are you going to grow up, young zombie?" Mr. Melbourne demanded. "You can't be a teenage zombie forever."

"Technically, that's all I can be," I mumbled.

"What was that?" Mr. Melbourne called.

"You're right, sir," I replied.

"I'm going to have to send your mentor a message," Mr. Melbourne said. "You may be bright, but your antics are going to put you on the fast track to the Stockade."

The Stockade. It was a former human penitentiary where Stiffs that were captured and deemed unworthy of conversion to Wakes were put. They were used for extra parts, and it was better to have them undead so the parts were fresh and not rotting. They were never fed. They just eventually died off, and new Stiffs were continuously added to the frenzy. The new ones ravenously ate the dead ones. We were not in short supply of Stiffs. Some of the least desirable Wakes who caused trouble for their community were put there, too, locked away in the solitary confinement to fend for themselves after they skidded and eventually died or were used for spare parts. No one wanted to go to the Stockade. It was a death sentence.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Sit down and focus," Mr. Melbourne instructed.

I obeyed, setting my seat upright and sitting in it.

I sighed. Those were just some of the zombie shenanigans that took place at Oakrest High School.

## 6. BORED STIFF

I slammed my locker door shut. I was still a little more than upset about the injustice dealt by Mr. Melbourne. My mentor was not going to be happy that I was acting up again - allegedly. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I kind of had a reputation for being a class clown. I tried not to take things too seriously. If I did, I might just want to die again thinking about the insanity the life of a zombie encompassed.

You might think being a zombie would be exciting, but not so much in Revenant, Joe. Only graduate zombies got to do anything cool, while apprentice zombies were relegated to test taking and observation. Though my main concentration in school was human tracking, I hadn't once been in the field. I wouldn't start field training until next year, which seemed like an afterlifetime away, and even then I wouldn't be allowed to engage humans. As exciting as human tracking sounded, it would be a long time before I would have the chance to really capture one.

I knew a bit about humans. We studied their culture and their history from the books and accounts they had written. Humans were dangerous. They weren't physically intimidating. It was their mentality you had to look out for. Humans would play you for sympathy and promise you anything to stay alive. Then they would stab you in the back. You couldn't trust them. We were taught from day one that humans weren't equals – they were a resource, the most important resource a zombie needed – and that's how they had to be seen. I was so eager to capture one for myself. I knew all their tricks. I knew exactly how to handle them. But I wouldn't get the chance anytime soon. Sometimes being a teenage zombie was a real drag.

I shoved my books in my backpack and slipped it onto my shoulder.

"Zell! What's up?" Trevor paced down the hallway toward me. He held his arm out and we connected wrists, a traditional zombie greeting for students. Trevor was a tall, lanky kid with curly hair and pale blue skin. His most notable feature was his nose, which was a little too big for his face, mainly because it wasn't his originally. It had been patched on during his preliminary waking, since his nose had been torn off when he was zombified.

"Man, I am so glad the weekend is here," I said. "My brain is mush. I am dying for some skull candy!"

"Me too," Trevor said. "I needed a break from school in the worst way. What do you want to do tonight?"

"If Mel-bore sends a message to my mentor, I might be stuck at home all night," I sighed.

"Oh man, again? Your mentor is going to give you the business! I always thought having a human tracker for a mentor would be fun."

"Not really," I mumbled. My mentor was really serious about human tracking. He said it took really strong discipline, patience, and craft. He was really strict. I don't think he's ever done anything fun in his whole death, honestly.

"Well, see if you can get out. After curfew if you have to. I can't stay cooped in all night," Trevor said.

"Okay. What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. They have some old hum movies playing at the Plex," Trevor offered. We called everything human-related "hum" for short. Everything lame was usually a hum thing. The only thing cool about watching old hum flicks was laughing at how lame they were. Especially the romances. When you take away the desire for sex and love, romance is the dumbest thing you ever heard of. I think that might be the best thing about zombie evolution. Zombies don't do love. We don't have families or any desire to get married. We can't have children, and sex isn't possible even if we had a sex drive, which seems to have died with our bodies. To zombies, love is just a word humans invented to explain the insatiable desire to hook up with someone of the opposite sex. I think that's why we won the evolutionary battle, quite frankly. That, and we ate most of the humans. But mostly the love thing.

"I'm tired of hum movies," I said. "It's all the same junk over and over again."

"Some of the guys are sneaking into the Hub tonight," Trevor said. "Wanna tag along?"

The Hub was the place zombies went to unwind and have fun. You were only allowed in if you had a Wake license, but that was only issued after you graduated. Zombies can't get drunk from alcohol, because their blood steam is too weak. Blood still flows, often slowly, but blood cells are no longer made, so the only blood we have in us is what we had when we died. Breathing, which we don't need to do and no longer do unconsciously, helps keep that blood circulating so it doesn't harden, but for the most part, what blood we have left isn't enough to inebriate us. We have a sort of equivalent to getting plastered, though. Instead of drinking, we jolt. We use electroshock sticks and we zap our brains. It changes the direction of the electric impulses in our brains or something, and makes us more like Stiffs again, although not totally, and the effects only last for a half hour, tops. Some Wakes argue that it's dangerous and could result in brain damage, but that doesn't stop most Wakes. Sometimes you just need an escape, I guess.

"I'm not in the mood for getting fried," I answered.

"Well, there's not much else to do in this deadbeat town," Trevor said. "There's nothing to do around A anyway."

Trevor had me there. Zone A was a cesspool of boredom. There was literally nothing to do in A. Most of it was country and open fields. There was only one zone in the entire town that had electricity – zone C – and even that was limited. It was run off of gas generators, and in order to keep the electricity going we had to refuel them. We sent a group of Wake gatherers outside Revenant every month to get new supplies, but we tried to limit our trips outside of town as much as possible. And to just get to the Plex and the Hub, you had to take a bus to zone C and that killed almost half your night. Revenant was still in its early development. We didn't have much in terms of recreation. It was all about survival and just getting by.

"All right," I relented. "Let's hit up the Hub."

"Thriller," Trevor grinned. "Meet me at my house after your mentor leaves." Human tracking was always done at night, so my mentor worked late hours. It made it pretty easy to sneak out.

"Sure," I said unenthusiastically. It would be a decent break from the monotony of school and studying, but doing the same thing every weekend was starting to bore me. I was beginning to wish that Wakes were allowed outside of town. But that was too dangerous. There were Stiffs galore, and if you weren't careful, you'd become Stiff bait fast. We were sort of a gaited community, and Stiffs were too dumb to figure out how to climb in. Still, the prospect of fighting a gluttonous Stiff horde was starting to become more appealing to me than hanging out in zone C every weekend. I bet you never thought being a zombie could be so boring, huh, Joe?

## 7. THE ZOMBIE'S APPRENTICE

I skateboarded home. I usually got to and from school that way. It was better than taking the bus, since there was only one school bus for the whole zone and it took forever to get there after making all the stops for the other kids. Gasoline was another thing we didn't have the luxury of wasting. We could only use public transportations to get around; otherwise, we had to walk. We had to conserve as many resources as possible, because we didn't have access to a lot of them in Revenant, and it still wasn't safe to wander outside the town's borders. The zombie awakening had made zombies the dominant race of the world, but Stiffs made up a vast majority of it still.

I came to the driveway that led home. I slowed to a stop and kicked the tail of my board and caught it by the wheels. I began jogging across the gravel.

Home was a little rundown blue house. When my mentor claimed it, half the windows were broken in, the other half barricaded. The doors were broken down, the interior torn apart, and the basement was filled with human remains, scattered across the floor and splattered over the walls, like abstract art. It had been a last bastion against a horde of Stiffs, before they finally overcame it and ravaged whoever was holed up inside. I guess you could say it had been a real fixer-upper.

I went through the front door, opening it carefully and closing it quietly behind me. I snuck through the main hallway like a burglar. I wanted to make it upstairs to my room without seeing my mentor. I didn't want to know if Mr. Melbourne had sent a courier to deliver his message to him. Hopefully, he had forgotten all about it.

I dashed past the living room and hurried toward the stairway.

"Zellner." My mentor's voice boomed from the living room without him even raising it. It was steady and calm. Somehow that was even scarier than yelling.

I paced slowly back to the living room and peeked inside. My mentor sat on the couch, a pair of glasses on his face, reading the Zombie Times, the weekly newspaper produced in zone D. He dropped the newspaper from his face and gazed at me with his eye. My mentor only had one eye. The other had been gouged out when he was zombified, and he had never gotten it replaced. Besides, eyes were too difficult to reconnect and never restored vision, so it only would have been cosmetic. He wore his empty socket like a badge.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, as innocently as possible.

"Come here," my mentor said. "Sit down."

"I have a lot of homework to do," I said, pointing with my thumb toward the stairs.

My mentor continued to gaze fixedly at me. I swallowed. His stare was like a tractor beam that drew you in. There was no way to escape it once you were caught. I stepped forward slowly. I sat down on the couch across from him.

"I got a message from your teacher, Mr. Melbourne," my mentor said. "He said you were acting up in school again. Throwing things around. Disrupting class."

"That was just a big misunderstanding, sir," I said. "That's not really what happened."

"Sure, sure, Zellner," my mentor said. He had heard this before. But it was the truth! Just because sometimes when I said that it wasn't completely true, didn't mean this time it wasn't!

"Listen, Zellner, it's time for you to straighten out," my mentor said seriously, his voice deep and admonishing, yet compassionate. "Just because you look like a teenager doesn't mean you have to act like one. You know what happens to Wakes who can't fulfill their full potential."

Yes, I did.

"Next year you'll be starting fieldwork," my mentor continued. "You'll be training with me and my co-workers. It's serious business. You can't be goofing off in the field. That's how you end up brain dead. Trust me, Zellner, I've seen it before. More times than I wish to."

"I know, I know," I sighed. My mentor had a way of rubbing things in until you just wanted to eat your brains out or throw yourself out a window.

"I won't have my apprentice fooling around and causing other Wakes to get hurt or possibly even killed. What would that say about me as a human tracker?"

I didn't say anything.

My mentor sighed gruffly, putting his hand to his head. "Zellner, when are you going to grow up?" He stared up at me when I offered no reply. "When I was your age I was dedicated to my craft. You zombies nowadays think it's all fun and games, just because you have a little electricity and a few flesh nuggets to nibble on. When I first started my education we didn't have any of that. We survived on one morsel a day – and that's if you were lucky! You kids today are spoiled." He shook his head. "You have to be careful, Zellner. Look at this," he said, jamming his finger into the newspaper that now rested on the table before him. "Two Wake anarchists were arrested today. Human sympathizers! As if we don't have enough to worry about keeping ourselves undead, we're supposed to worry about how well we treat our human stock on top of it? These aren't the time for human sympathies, Zellner. You remember what I told you about the Mutiny?"

I nodded blankly. It was one of his favorite stories.

"I was there. I was still in school, but I was there," he continued. "Human sympathizers, objecting to how we treated the human stock. Why? Because they have intelligence? So do we, don't we? Aren't we as deserving of life as they are, even in death?" He looked up at me expectantly.

"More deserving," I answered.

He nodded. It was the answer he had offered me many times when I had nonchalantly shrugged away my own. "Right. Right, exactly. Because we are superior. Because they failed. It's our turn now, Zellner. Every species in the world will have its turn. Before humans it was the dinosaurs. And now it's zombies. But this," he said, pointing to the paper, "this won't do. We have a very delicate system of government set up here in Revenant. It's not perfect, but Mayor Hillard does what he can to maintain it so that we can survive. We can't have anarchy, Zellner. The Mutiny almost destroyed our town. When those humans escaped, not only did we lose our main resource, the only thing on this earth that allows us to hold onto life day in and day out, but it began a civil war. So many Wakes died. It nearly destroyed the town. And we can't have that again. Anarchists cannot be tolerated. The worst thing any of us can do is to cause the death of a fellow Wake. That kind of carelessness and disrespect for this town is the exact thing that sent it into civil war the first time. And no apprentice of mine is going to be a part of that. I'll see you transferred to the Stockade before I allow that. That's why it's of immense importance that you take responsibility for your role in this town, and begin to take it seriously. The zombies who don't meet the same fate." He pointed again to the newspaper. "Anarchy cannot be tolerated Zellner. There is too much at stake for that. Do you understand?"

I nodded gravely. My mentor had a way of vocalizing a speech in such a powerfully intimidating and stately way that you couldn't help but agree with him.

"Why don't you go upstairs and study the Guide I gave you," he said.

The Guide to Tracking Humans. If my mentor had a Bible, that would be it. "I've already read it," I replied thoughtlessly.

"Read it again," my mentor returned sharply. "You should know it front to back if you're going to be a human tracker."

"I was going to go study at Trevor's tonight," I said carefully. "Can I?"

"No," my mentor said sternly. "You're staying in tonight. I want your face glued to the inside of that book. Understood?"

"But –"

"No but's. Go on, Zellner. No more backtalk."

I sighed. I rose from the couch and went upstairs, sulkily dragging my feet. My mentor never gave me a break. He had such high expectations of me, and I didn't even really care that much about tracking humans. I mean, sure, it got you outside of the town's borders, but there were so many rules and conditions. It took all the fun out of hunting humans. Sometimes I wondered why I had been selected in pre-education to be a human tracker. I wasn't sure I was cut out for it. But if I wasn't, then I would end up in the Stockade. I could never let that happen. Human tracking is what I had to do, even if it wasn't what I wanted to do.

Some human tracker's apprentice I was.

## 8. ZOMBIE NIGHTS

I waited until my mentor left, two hours before curfew. In Revenant, all zombies still being schooled had to be indoors by 10:00. Apparently you couldn't be trusted to roam the streets at night until after you'd graduated. Most zombie kids snuck out after curfew anyway. There was no way to tell if you were still in school or not by just looking at you. What you like doesn't matter. My English teacher looks fourteen, but she has been a zombie for twenty years, and she's very smart, a postgraduate. How old you look means nothing in zombie terms. The only way you could tell is if you had an Advanced license, which was issued after graduation. Fake licenses weren't that hard to come by though, especially in zone C.

My mentor had left at 8:00 to get ready for his nightly patrol with the other human trackers. Patrols were done in shifts every night after curfew, but being the community leader, my mentor made a point to be present for all of them each night. It made him keep weird hours, but since zombies don't need to sleep, it didn't really matter.

Sleep is recommended by the way. It helps lower brain activity and that reduces the amount of brain morsels we need to eat to keep us going. That's another reason for school zombies to have curfew. We are still learning to curb our cravings, and sleep helps reduce our hunger. Plus, we use our brains a lot since we're still in school. Mindless, menial tasks require less brains. The more you think, the more brains you need, so zombies in school tend to need a lot.

My mentor sleeps more during the day and wakes up in the afternoon. It's probably hard keeping those kind of hours, but I think he likes it. Some zombies like working after dark.

I crept downstairs, sneaking a piece of brain preserve from the chem dish to snack on before I left. To keep the brain pieces fresh, they have to be kept in a chemical mixture. This suspends the brain function so that the tissue and synapses don't die. As long as you douse a brain in the chemical preserve directly following death, it will keep its effectiveness forever. If the brain is already dead or infected it doesn't work, though. Infected brains have to be eaten before death, while the human is still alive for them to have any effect. Zombies' brains are technically dead, but something about the zombie virus causes them to keep working as if they weren't. But that's why zombie brains, when eaten, don't do anything to keep Wakes going, since they're still effectively dead.

I peered out my front door. My mentor had taught me to always take inventory at night before you went somewhere. No Stiffs. Definitely no humans. It was only very rarely that a Stiff stumbled into Revenant, and the patrollers who policed the town usually caught them quickly enough, and humans never came, unless they had a death wish or were so completely lost they didn't realize this was zombie territory. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. My mentor was always saying that.

I hurried down my driveway and got on my skateboard and rode down the street. Trevor's mentor's place was in the opposite direction of the main town in zone A. They lived on the outskirts of the zone, near the boundary. It was so quiet there you could hear a Stiff grunt from miles away. Sometimes I really liked it, and other times the quiet really got to me. I spent a lot of time at Trevor's. It was a good escape from my mentor's vigilant eye. Even when he wasn't around it was like he was watching me. Somehow, having only one eye made him even more watchful.

It took me twenty minutes to ride to Trevor's. It helped take my mind off things. I slowed to a stop at his driveway, a dirt path that reached way up a grassy hill to a little farmhouse at the top. It was an old white building with a gray tiled roof. It was in pretty good condition, though. The humans who had lived there must have abandoned it, because it didn't seem like Stiffs had ever attacked it.

I ran across the grass field, swatting away the flies as I went. Revenant had major problems with flies. I guess it's all those dead bodies walking around. It was even worse at the farmhouse. They had flyswatters on hand constantly. It was really annoying. I guess that's one of the prices you pay for zombiedom though.

I came to the front and pounded on the screen door. The wood door behind it opened and I saw Trevor's mentor, an apron wrapped around her stout waist, and a cloth tied around the top of her head. She was drying a dish with a rag, and she gazed down at me with a closed-smile. She was always glad to see me.

"Kind of late, isn't it Zellner?" she asked, pushing open the screen door for me.

"Not too late, I hope, Mrs. Kushner," I replied. "I was thinking of spending the night."

She raised a thick eyebrow at me. "Is that okay with your mentor?"

"Sure," I said. "He's on patrol anyway. He won't even know I'm gone." It was pretty much the truth.

"Well, you know we love having you over, Zellner," Trevor's mentor said. "Trevor!" she hollered upstairs. "Your friend Zellner's here!"

The sound of feet stamping upstairs echoed down at us.

"I swear that boy could wake the uninfected dead," Mrs. Kushner mumbled.

Trevor pounded down the stairs and hurried toward me, extending his wrist so I could hit it with mine. "Thriller!" he cheered.

"What are you boys up to tonight, then?" his mentor asked. "It's a little late to go out." She viewed us expectantly.

Trevor's mentor was a little uptight. She was sort of overprotective and kind of neurotic, but she was pretty nice. Trevor complained about her a lot, but she was always doting over us and making sure we had enough brains. You could tell she had been a mother in her mortal life.

"We're just going to do homework together," Trevor answered. "Nothing special."

"Well, that's good to hear. I want you two staying out of trouble," Trevor's mentor said.

"We don't know the meaning of trouble," Trevor replied with a grin.

"That I believe," his mentor quipped. "But you boys do worry me sometimes. I wonder how two innocent kids like you ever became zombies in the first place. Your brains should have been eaten right through, you're so frail and fragile."

"Oh, come on," Trevor sighed. We had both heard this before.

"Well, isn't it true? How you ever survived a zombie attack to become zombies yourselves I'll never know. Your mentor I understand, Zellner. He's tough as nails. But you boys, my word, you must have had zombie Jesus watching over you!" Trevor's mentor made the sign of a cross over her chest out of respect.

"Zombie Jesus? Don't be ridiculous!" Trevor laughed.

"You watch your mouth, young zombie!" she chided. "Don't you dare mock the zombie lord in my house, you understand?"

Trevor shrugged. "That's hum stuff."

"It's more zombie than you think," she returned. "He died for our sins. And then what happened? Go on."

"He rose from the grave," Trevor monotoned.

"That's right! He died and rose from the grave, undead as can be. Now doesn't that sound like a zombie to you? It certainly does to me! It was a sign of things to come. The zombie lord has blessed us, Trevor. He knew of our arrival all the time. He paved the way for us. Don't you dare mock the name of the zombie lord in my house, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Trevor relented.

"Good," his mentor said.

"Come on, Zell, let's go study," Trevor motioned with his head toward the stairs.

"Hold on a minute," his mentor interrupted. "Trevor, don't forget, you still have your chores to do. Remember, you said you were waiting for Zellner?"

"Oh, right. I forgot," Trevor said, smacking his palm to his head. "You mind helping me, Zell?"

I shook my head. I actually kind of liked Trevor's study. And his mentor thought I wasn't half bad at it, too. Sometimes I wished I had been chosen to be the apprentice of Trevor's mentor instead of mine. But there wasn't anything I could do about that now. My study was human tracking, and that was my future.

"Go suit up," Trevor's mentor said. "You too, Zellner. You can never be too careful."

We nodded and went to the closet to get our gear. Trevor's mentor kept an extra suit for me, since I came to visit Trevor so often and help out. It was really nice of her.

"I shouldn't have let you wait so late," Trevor's mentor sighed. "I'm sure they're starving by now. I should know better. A happy human is a procreative human. That's the first thing any breeding mentor will tell you."

"I know, I know," Trevor called as he slipped on his safety gear.

I pulled my gear, a form fitting rubber suit and gloves and a small round helmet with a see-through pane in front, on and followed Trevor outside of the farmhouse toward the barn in the back.

"And make sure you watch them eat!" his mentor called to us as we went.

Trevor groaned. "Will you feed them, Zell? I'm not cut out for this."

I nodded. I didn't mind. Trevor didn't like it much. He thought humans were really annoying. But I found it kind of interesting. Anyway, there were plenty of worse studies than human breeding.

## 9. HUMAN BREEDING 101

I slid open the barn door, which squealed with displeasure as it normally did. The sound of flies buzzing flooded the interior of the room. I let the chains holding the doors together drop. The room stretched back, barred stalls lining the walls. The humans were in the farthest stall on the right. There were only two on hand right now. They had captured the woman more than a month ago. They had captured the man about a week ago. They were the only humans brought in by our community's trackers in the last two months. The last one found before them was a little boy whose mother had been killed by Stiffs. He was used as fodder. It would take way too long for him to mature to breeding age. We didn't have that kind of time.

Trevor stood just behind me. He waved his hand in front of his face. "Jeez, it stinks in here," he complained.

It was the human's excrement. Zombies didn't defecate or urinate. Our bodies didn't process food because our organs were dead. If we did eat or drink anything besides brains (which wasn't recommended) the stuff just collected inside us until our stomachs eventually burst. Yeah, pretty gross. That's why we mainly stuck to brains. Every month we had to go to a tailor to have our stomachs drained. It was kind of a hassle, but it was better than letting our guts fill up until they exploded.

We weren't used to the smell of feces and urine. Blood and rotting flesh, yes. Feces, not so much.

"You're not exactly a bed of roses yourself," I cracked. "It comes with the territory."

"Not for me it doesn't," Trevor replied. "Take care of it for me, huh? I'll meet you back at the house. I've done enough feedings this week."

I nodded as he handed me the lock to the main door and turned and stepped out of the barn. I breathed out, and then proceeded to creep quietly to the back of the barn, turning to face the humans' stall.

I gazed in through the slats of the cage. The stalls were decent. They were originally designed by humans to hold horses and other large animals, so they were fairly roomy. The floor was carpeted – that was put in especially for the humans – and they had a double bed in one corner, a table in another, by the wall of the cage's door, and a bucket for taking care of any human needs. All in all, there were far worse places to live, especially since the zombie awakening.

The humans sat apart in the same stall. The woman was curled on the bed, a blanket pulled up around her form. She was thin and boney, and had long brown hair. The man sat in the opposite corner, his back pressed against the wall. He had his legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around them. He was average, a little pudgy with a round face, and hairy, with a strong beard. Both humans were naked. We didn't generally dress stock. Clothes got in the way of breeding.

The man shivered. The barn was pretty cold. The last time I was here, Mrs. Kushner had said she expected the humans to get together anytime now. It was the one blanket method. She gave them only one blanket to keep warm with. It meant that if they both wanted to stay warm at the same time, they'd have to share it. Bringing humans together was the first step to initiating breeding. So far, though, it didn't seem like these humans were cooperating. They were still taking turns. Mrs. Kushner said the woman was stubborn.

"Dinner time," I said through the cage.

They were used to the routine by now. They would leave their cups and bowls on the table by the cage door. If they weren't waiting for us on the table when we came, they didn't get fed. They got two meals a day, and an extra cup of water every few hours if they left their cups on the table to be refilled.

I watched the humans carefully. They didn't move. I slowly extended my hand forward through the slats of the cage door and picked up the two cups. Trevor and I were never to open the cage door under any circumstances. Only Mrs. Kushner was allowed to deal with the humans directly. Whenever she did, she would chain them first. The humans would have to put their arms through the slats of the cage and she would chain them together before she entered, to ensure they wouldn't try to attack her or try to escape. She did this every few days to clean out the humans' bucket, clean their stall and wash them down so they didn't get an infection, and give them clean blankets. When she was first captured, the woman resisted for a week and a half before she finally submitted to having her stall cleaned. Her bucket had been overflowing then, she was dirty and dry-mouthed (Mrs. Kushner had taken away her water privileges until she obeyed), and her stall was swarming with flies. Mrs. Kushner took all afternoon to clean the stall thoroughly. When the man came, he obeyed instantly, following the woman's example. Humans were much easier to tame in numbers. They so freely followed each other without question. Alone they were obstinate and shrewd. Together they were mindless and malicious, like Stiffs.

I brought the cups to the closed trough in the back of the barn. I slid open the lid and ducked the cups inside filling them to the top with water. I crept carefully back to the stall and placed each cup on the table, watching to make sure the humans weren't prepping to attack as I did. You always had to watch humans. I followed the same procedure for their bowls, returning to a second trough, which held a sort of food mix that provided nourishment and protein. It was developed in zone G and then moved to all the other towns to feed communities' human stock. Most humans hated the taste of it. I can tell you it didn't smell all too good, but human food was on a low list of our priorities, I guess. It got the job done. That's all that mattered.

I returned to the humans' stall and placed the bowls on the table. I stepped away and watched, waiting for them to get their dishes and start eating. It was Trevor's job to feed the humans every morning and night, but he was usually too anxious to stay around and watch them eat. Mrs. Kushner thought the woman might not be eating her food anymore, because it seemed like she was getting sicker and sicker. That wasn't a good sign. When a human stopped eating, it usually meant they stopped caring, and were no longer viable for breeding. That's when they became fodder.

I waited. The humans didn't move from where they sat. The man looked up toward me, my figure shadowed behind the bars of the stall, and then toward the woman uncertainly.

I cleared my throat. "Time to eat." We weren't really supposed to talk to the humans unless to give them specific instructions. We learned early in school that humans could play mind games to try to gain sympathy. But we had to always remember that only Wakes could be trusted. Humans would do anything to escape.

The woman didn't budge. The man continued to stare at her uncertainly. I cleared my throat again.

"Excuse me," I said. "Uhm, woman? It's time to eat. Can you wake her up?" I looked to the man hopefully.

He looked at me and then back in the woman's direction without speaking.

I waited.

"Go away," the woman's cracked, raspy voice returned.

I considered what to do next. I should have probably gone to tell Mrs. Kushner the humans weren't cooperating. I didn't.

"If you aren't hungry," I began after a few moments of silence, "I'll just take this food back then."

I reached my hands into the bars to pick up the bowls.

"No, no, no, don't do that!" the man shot up from his place in the stall. I recoiled instantly, making sure to keep my distance from him. The last thing we needed was for him to accidentally get infected by me and be zombified.

"The woman has to eat too," I said clearly.

"She will," the man assured.

I exhaled, my breath fogging up the plate of my helmet for a moment. I sucked in air in the direction of the fog to help clear it. "I need to see her."

The man looked to the woman. "Come on," he urged with his head.

The woman didn't respond. She lay on the bed unmoving, facing the wall.

The man went to her and reached for her arm. "If you don't eat then neither of us do," he said.

She swung her arm away from his grasp and moved closer to the wall.

"We'll both starve," the man hissed.

"So starve," she mumbled, staying close to the wall.

The man clenched his fists. He turned from her to face the wall of the cage. "She won't eat," he said. "It's not my fault."

I nodded. I had to tell Mrs. Kushner. I reached into the bars and picked up a bowl. One human, one bowl. That was the rule. I stepped back. "Eat," I instructed.

The man went forward and picked up his bowl, throwing back his head and swallowing the soup down with loud, slurping gulps. He finished the bowl in less than two minutes. I nodded. I returned back to the troughs and dumped the food from the woman's bowl back inside, sealing both containers again. I returned to the stall and dropped her empty bowl inside.

The man stood at the table, drinking from his cup of water. I let the woman's cup stay. Humans needed water. They couldn't live without it. I left the barn, locking the chains to the doors behind me.

Mrs. Kushner was right. The woman was stubborn. I didn't see how she would ever breed. And if she didn't, that meant she was only good for one thing.

I went back to the farmhouse to tell Trevor's mentor the bad news.

## 10. ZOMBIES AFTER DARK

Mrs. Kushner was not pleased. First she scolded Trevor for not watching the humans eat. Second, she berated herself for trusting her apprentice to watch the humans eat. Then she grumbled about the stubbornness of the woman, declaring that she had half a mind to go out there and prep her for fodder herself right then and there. Then she calmed herself, after a brief téte-á-téte with the picture of zombie Jesus that hung on the living room wall, and decided that the thing to do was to have a conversation with the woman in the morning. She would remove the man from the stall after his feeding and determine if the woman was still viable for breeding. In years past she probably wouldn't have been accepted as a breeding candidate in the first place, but the standards were lower now since humans were so much harder to come by. And the woman was young enough that she could be bred for twenty or twenty-five years before being used for fodder. It was a worthy gamble, but so far it hadn't paid off.

Mrs. Kushner put herself to bed early. The distress of the evening's revelation had made her anxious and frazzled. That was good for Trevor and me. We didn't have to wait until curfew to sneak out. After his mentor went upstairs, we waited until we were sure Mrs. Kushner was asleep. Her snores were a dead giveaway. She sounded like a hungry Stiff confronting a group of helpless humans. The sound would be horrid if we weren't zombies ourselves. We were pretty used to the guttural sound of the undead.

We crept out of the farm and began the trek into town. It was a little after 9:00 when we left. The roads were quiet. They always were in this area. Once we got into town there would be a lot more zombies out, especially on a Friday night. Occasionally zombie patrol would come out and check licenses. Any Wake without an Advanced license was immediately escorted back to his mentor. It was best not to draw attention to yourself.

We lurked down the streets into town. Only the sound of flies buzzing and the occasionally howl of a dog could be heard. Zombies didn't generally keep pets. Animals had a tendency to gnaw at us and it was just too inconvenient. Once in a while a stray dog would find its way inside Revenant, though.

The streets were dark. There were no street lamps. Anyway, we didn't need light. The virus that had caused humans to become zombies enhanced us in every way. We had really good vision. We could see things humans couldn't, and that was especially helpful in the dark. It was sort of like seeing things in slow motion. Things the average human eye couldn't recognize we could see clearly. At night it allowed us to differentiate shades of darkness, so that we could see everything. Where humans could only see a black veil of nothing, zombies saw dark layers of buildings and figures. It was actually pretty cool. It's another reason I highly recommend becoming a zombie. The advantages just keep piling up, don't they, Joe?

Buildings were scarce around the farm. Only a few structures dotted the sides of the road we were walking down, most of them abandoned with no Wakes having taken claim of them. It was fifteen minutes until we reached Square 3, the most urban community in zone A. Little buildings sat all around us. Almost everything was closed, but some Wakes still milled around in the city streets, talking. It was still pretty empty. Zone A always was, even in the main part of town. The action was found in zone C. That's where everyone went to escape the monotony of every day zombie life.

Trevor and I usually went there every Friday night. I would head to Trevor's, telling my mentor we would be studying together, and then he and I would sneak out after Trevor's mentor fell asleep. We could usually find something to do keep us entertained for at least one night in zone C, although lately even that had become repetitive. Marching from square 1 to square 3, and riding into zone C every week was beginning to feel like a military drill. I had the routine down cold. I could do Friday nights in my sleep if I wanted to.

We headed for the bus stop. There were a few Wakes hanging around it. Most of them were kids we knew from school. We saw them there a lot of the time, waiting to get to zone C. The bus came every half hour until curfew, and then every hour until morning.

The bus came a little after 9:30. The Wake driving didn't even look at as us as we boarded. He certainly wasn't going to card us. Trevor and I sat in the back of the bus and passed the time by sharing school stories and complaining about our teachers and the schoolwork. We bumped along the road, darkness filling the interior of the bus. It was about forty minutes before we idled into zone C and the bus emptied out. Trevor and I were the last Wakes off the bus. Nobody got on after us. Everyone was going to the action.

The town was alive. The lamps dotting the streets were glowing with electricity. Shops were open, the windows glowing with incandescent light. Wakes littered the streets and great buildings towered over them, stretching into the distance. Zone C hadn't been a major city or anything when humans inhabited it, but it had been the major commerce district for the area. The mall was the biggest building, with two floors and a basement. Trevor and I would check it out, scour the stores inside for new clothes and occasionally a snack. They didn't sell brains – they were too costly and were only provided by the government directly. The rations were delivered weekly, and payment for them was automatically deducted from every mentor's salary. Brains were too essential to survival to sell casually at the mall, but they did serve some decent meals like fried human meat, cooked heart, or kidney steak – things like that. The food was still pretty costly, and it wasn't really necessary, but when your brain was aching from not enough brains, especially after getting fried at the Hub, it would help you feel a little better at least. For the most part, though, it wasn't worth the price considering how little it did to stem a Wake's cravings. It was more comfort food.

Tonight neither of us felt like going to the mall. Trevor was anxious to get to the Hub. I was mostly listless, not in the mood for much of anything. I followed him without any argument. There was a line to get in, stretching out onto the pavement.

"We're gonna be here all night," I complained. The Hub was always packed on Friday night. All the kids from every zone came here.

"Relax," Trevor said. "It won't be that long."

The line moved slowly. It was a little under an hour before we reached the front doors of the Hub. The bouncer at the front carded us. We flashed our fake IDs, which looked nothing like us. We had bought them from a Wake at school last year. We were permitted to enter.

The blaring sound of old hum rock and metal songs reverberated throughout the building's interior. Lights flashed all around us and Wakes were huddled across the floor and against the counter ahead of us and to the right. It was hot and smelly and voices climbed upon voices, mixing with the music. Most of the zombies inside were unlicensed Wakes who had died when they were in their teens. There were very few adult Wakes. The community had to realize that the Hub was used mostly by young Wakes who hadn't graduated yet for partying. I guessed they overlooked it, since there was so little else to do in Revenant.

We shuffled through the undead bodies toward the main bar. The server nearest to us eyed us leerily. "What'll you have?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"What have you got?" Trevor asked. He always asked, as if the selection would change, but the answer was always the same.

"10 creds gets you a spark, 50 a burst, and 100 a full jolt," the server stated blandly.

Trevor slipped his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a star shaped piece of plastic, slapping it onto the tabletop. Creds were made to look like shapes, each shape representing a different denomination – a star was 100 creds, an octagon was 50 creds, a pentagon was 20, a square was 10, a triangle was 5, and a circle was 1. The more edges a cred had, the more it was worth.

"I'll take a full jolt," Trevor said with a smirk.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his sleeve, "are you brain dead? That's your entire allowance for the whole month!" Trevor's mentor was pretty stingy with the allowance she gave him, but mine was even stingier. Still, we were lucky to have mentors who could afford to give their apprentice an allowance at all. Peggy, for instance, wasn't given any allowance, and practically had to beg her mentor for any commodity she desired.

"YODO," he returned with a wink. Then he gestured the server with his finger to proceed.

I shook my head. Trevor definitely wasn't the most responsible Wake. Neither was I, to be honest, but a half hour of oblivion hardly seemed worth my entire month's allowance. The server reached behind the counter and withdrew a long metal prod with two electrodes at the end. He brushed the trigger, sending two quick squiggles of electricity between the conductors. "Ready?" the server asked, lifting the prod toward Trevor's head.

"You kidding? I died ready!" Trevor said.

The server snapped back the trigger and the electricity jolted through Trevor's brain. His eyes rolled to the top of the head, and his head flung back. His body trembled as the server applied the electricity for a full ten seconds before pulling away. Trevor gradually stopped shaking, but his head still hung limp behind him. After a few moments it rolled forward and his mouth fell open, his eyes wide and dilated. He gurgled, attempting to move forward toward the bar. He was dead to the world now.

"Get outta here," the server said, shoving Trevor back and spinning him around. Trevor began to mindlessly amble toward the middle of the floor, moving with deliberate, wobbly steps. He was like a Stiff with brain damage. I watched him for a few minutes before the server said: "What about you?"

I looked to him as he pocketed the creds Trevor had given him. "No thanks," I said. "I'm not in the mood."

"I thought all you kids liked to get fried."

I shrugged. "It's just an escape."

"When you've been a Wake as long as I have, you realize that sometimes that's just what you need," he replied.

I looked to the door of the Hub. "Yeah," I said.

I turned from the server and moved through the bodies of zombies, following Trevor. He was way out of it. He would bump into some Wake who would shove him aside and laugh when he realized he was fried. A lot of the zombies in the Hub got a real kick out of watching fried Wakes stumble around disoriented. Getting fried triggered their cravings, but it also made them weak and confused. Trevor would drop open his mouth and growl, moving forward to bite into a Wake's head, and the Wake would shove him aside with ease and he would stumble backward, nearly falling. He moved with stiff, wobbly steps. He didn't have the strength to close his mouth, let alone bite anyone.

I had gotten fried a couple times, but I never remembered it. It seemed worthless, and the only memories I had came from Trevor or other Wakes that had been sober at the time. Doing mindless things for the sake of doing mindless things just to laugh at the mindlessness of it the next day got old real fast. I hoped there was more to zombie life than that. So far I hadn't found it. Still, there was always hope that things would get better. We were still building something in Revenant, and I believed that if we kept working, eventually we would have all the resources we needed. The danger of roaming Stiffs would be gone, and we would have so many human captives that we would have more brains than we knew what to do with. That day was going to come in time. I believed that. I had to, because I didn't want to believe that zombie life would always be a constant struggle to survive.

Trevor, on the other hand, seemed to thoroughly enjoy his time being fried. He said he never remembered much, but that just being shut down for a while relieved some of the anxiety and stress of everyday zombie life. I guess I could understand that. But I didn't like it. The last thing I wanted was to become more like a Stiff again. That was a fate almost as bad as absolute death.

Trevor bumped into another fried Wake. He jerked back and turned and growled at him. The other Wake growled back. Cries of excitement rose up and a crowd formed around them. Everyone who came to the Hub seemed to love when fried Wakes got into a fight. It was pretty harmless. The Wakes were so disoriented and weak that they could barely do any harm to one another.

The Wake that Trevor had bumped into threw his arms forward weakly, causing Trevor to stumble back. Trevor threw back his head and snarled, then jerked forward to push back. The two became entangled as they weakly tried to push one another away.

"I got 10 creds on the one in the blue shirt!" someone from the crowd cried.

"I'll take the one in the red!" someone else shouted.

They loved to bet on who would be the last Wake standing. Whichever Wake fell down first was the loser.

I rolled my eyes and turned away as the crowd filled in around them, cutting off my view. I decided to let Trevor have his fun. I returned to the bar and sat at a stool, resting my elbows against the counter and my chin against my closed hands. The music was blaring and colored lights flashed, giving me a headache.

"Hey, what's up, Zellner?"

I turned to look across from me. It was a girl from one of my classes. She had long black hair, and ghostly white skin. Her face was caked in makeup, making her look creepily like a clown. "Hey, Marissa," I said unenthusiastically.

"You not into the whole jolting thing?" she asked.

"Not really," I said with a shrug.

"Yeah, me neither. It's all kind of boring, right?"

"Totally!" a girl beside her, one of her friend's, chirped.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"It's all so immature really. We're, like, too good for that kind of stuff."

"Totally!"

I scrunched my face uncertainly. "There's nothing to do in this town," I said.

"Right?"

"It's all the same stuff every day, right?" Marissa said.

"Yeah," I said. "I was just thinking that."

"I wish there was something to do to get out of it. Life as a zombie can be the pits. The real pits!"

"Pitiful!"

"Tell me about it," I said. "It's just the same thing over and over. Like we're just spinning our wheels. Sometimes I wonder --"

"Oh my God!"

My eyes darted back and forth uncertainly at Marissa's interjection.

"Lisa, come on! I have to hit the dance floor! This is my jam!"

She grabbed her friend by the wrist and pulled her away into a crowd of Wakes as the lyrics to an old hum song broke over the speakers. I turned dejectedly back to the bar. It was hopeless.

A few minutes later I slunk out of the Hub and waited for Trevor outside on the street. I leaned against the wall of the Hub away from the crowd with my hands shoved in the pockets of my jacket hoodie. He met me about an hour later. He was still dazed, but mostly recovered. He stumbled up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, man, why'd you leave like that?" he asked.

"Dude, you're so fried," I said.

"Naaaah," he said and didn't speak for a few moments. "I'm fine. Man, it was great! You should have jolted with me. It was a blast!"

"I'm sick of that stuff."

"Ahhhh ... You're just an old corpse in the ground. Undie a little, man!"

"It's just the same stuff, Trev. I'm tired of this town."

"You up for something really crazy?" Trevor asked, putting his hand on my shoulder and leaning in close, like he was delivering a secret.

"Like what?" I asked suspiciously.

"I heard some of the Advanced kids talking back there in the Hub. Big Jake and them. They're going human tracking later tonight."

"Alone?" I asked. That was seriously dangerous.

Trevor nodded his head gravely, then he stopped and closed his eyes, as if the motion had made him dizzy. "You want to crash in? They're meeting in F4."

"I don't know," I shook my head. Zombie students don't start field training until they became Advanced students. Trevor and I were still at the Intermediary level. We didn't have any experience.

"Come on. Your mentor's the lead human tracker. You must have learned something from him. You know some stuff. And we'll be with the Advanced kids. They've done fieldwork."

"They won't even let us go with them," I said doubtfully.

"Sure they will. They won't care. You know Big Jake. Whatever makes things more interesting. Besides, I thought you wanted something fun to do."

He was right about that. I was bored. Going human tracking would be something different, something exciting, and it would get me out of Revenant for the first time in my life.

I wasn't that big on human tracking, though. I knew it was a necessity for zombies to survive, and I had nothing against it personally, no more than I probably had against hunters who had killed animals for me to eat when I was human. Unless I'd been a vegetarian as a human. Wouldn't that be ironic?

For me, though, it wasn't that appealing. I must have killed my share of humans as a Stiff. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have been around long enough to be converted to a Wake. But I don't remember any of it. Since gaining zombie consciousness I haven't killed any humans. I've only eaten the brains supplied to me. And honestly, apart from my cravings, I haven't really felt the desire to. Although, when I become an Advanced student and start fieldwork, I will have to start tracking humans, and learn how to defend myself from them, and kill them if I have to. It's essential zombie training.

It was kind of weird that I had been assigned as the apprentice to the community's lead human tracker. It had something to do with the tests they gave us during preliminary education to make us Wakes. Maybe it was easier for me to answer certain questions that were related to tracking humans. I guess that's it. I was supposed to begin human tracking as my permanent profession after I graduated. I couldn't tell anyone, especially my mentor, that I'd rather do something else. It raised a huge red flag about your viability as a contributing member to zombie society if it turned out that what you were educated for wasn't a skill you were adept at. It was rare that Wakes were allowed to change professions to something else. And I wasn't even sure what that something else would be. All I knew was that it wasn't human tracking. But I didn't know any way to get out of it, either. I was expected to follow in my mentor's footsteps. That's the way zombie life worked. It kind of sucked, but I guess you can't fight the zombie man. Every Wake had a place and a job, and if he couldn't adequately serve that position, then he was just a waste of brain preserves. It was harsh, but that was the current reality. The town could only afford to keep Wakes who could provide a service of need around.

Those rules had been initiated after the civil war. Things had become a lot stricter then, my mentor said, but it was a necessary evil. Survival was the most important thing, and any Wake who couldn't contribute to that was dead weight. Posters were plastered everywhere with Mayor Hillard's long, skeleton face, and his wide, tooth filled smile, with his signature catchphrase: "Living death has a price. What is your contribution?"

If I wanted to continue my zombie afterlife, I would have to become a human tracker, and a damned good one. What better way to practice than to go human tracking?

And I didn't have any other retort for Trevor's argument. There was nothing else to do in Revenant, and I was tired of doing the same thing. Prowling the mall, watching old hum movies, or getting fried at the Hub was no longer a droll distraction from the humdrum of everyday zombie life. Humans were so hard to find, anyway. We probably wouldn't even run into any. It takes skilled human trackers like my mentor to find them and capture them, and nowadays even he was routinely coming up empty.

"Okay, I'll tag along," I relented.

"Thriller!" Trevor cheered, hitting his wrist to mine again. "They said they were gonna meet in a couple hours. You wanna hit the mall while we wait? Or scope out a Stiff match?"

"No," I said. "Let's go back to your house and get our safety gear and some preserves. To be safe."

"Aw, come on, don't be such a scaredy hum!"

"I've never been outside the borders of Revenant before, Trev. I've heard enough horror stories from my mentor to know how dangerous it can be, especially in zone F."

"All right, man, all right. Let's go."

We started down the street back toward the bus stop.

I'm not gonna lie, Joe. I was more than a little nervous. I wasn't sure I was ready for this. But I was just a dumb zombie kid. Dumb zombie kids do dumb zombie things.

Right?

## 11. DUMB ZOMBIE THINGS

We rode the bus back to Mrs. Kushner's farm. The return trip sobered Trevor back up completely, so he was pretty clear headed, but famished, by the time we got back. He had a preserve to snack on to ease his jolt hangover, and we went to work figuring out what to bring with us. Neither of us owned any tracking gear. My mentor said he would get it for me when I began advanced classes and not a moment before. He was really strict like that.

Instead, we packed the safety gear Mrs. Kushner had gotten us for feeding and caring for the humans. It wasn't as good as tracking gear, and it was a lot less mobile, but it was better than nothing. We threw our gear into our backpacks, and Trevor packed a small container of chemical mix, with some brain preserves inside. If you're planning to be out for a while, it's always good to bring some extra brains. The second worst thing that can happen to a Wake, outside of having your brain damaged, is to be away from home without access to any human brains for an extended time. A lot of Wakes have been lost that way, as they eventually skid back to their former Stiff selves and just aimlessly wander off. Becoming a Stiff again is almost as bad as re-dying.

We got everything together and listened for the sound of Mrs. Kushner's dense snoring pulsing through the walls to be sure she was still sleeping soundly before we took off.

We returned to A3 and awaited the bus. We were running behind since we returned to zone A, and Trevor was complaining that Big Jake and them were probably already in zone F by now. I ignored him. It wasn't safe to go tracking without any protective gear, and there was no way I was leaving Revenant without preserves. I'd never left the town boundaries before, and my mentor always brought reserves when he went tracking. It was one of the most important rules of being a human tracker. It wasn't until later that I realized that Trevor was worried about going tracking without the Advanced kids. The trip back had sobered him up completely, and with the loss of his mental haze, his courage had gone with it. He nervously tapped his foot against the street and suggested a few times that we go back to the Hub and forget about tracking.

I pushed aside his worries. Maybe I wasn't much of a human tracker, but I wasn't going back to the Hub or zone C either. I didn't really care about tracking humans. What really mattered to me was getting outside of town and seeing the world outside Revenant. Since the ride back from zone C I had gotten excited about that possibility, and now, even against Trevor's own reluctance, I wasn't ready to throw that away. The more I thought about it, the more ready I was to break out of Revenant, at least for a night.

The bus finally rolled up to the bus stop and we climbed aboard and settled in. F4 was on the south end of Revenant, the fourth community in zone F and the most human-active area in town. On average, the trackers in F4 brought in twice as many humans as the rest of the town did, and three times as many as my community. It was nearer to the forest and some other abandoned towns that still had supplies. Some thought the human safe zone was in that direction, too, but we weren't sure. Nobody had been able to find it yet. Anyway, it was on the other end of town, almost opposite A1, so it was one of the last stops, and it would take us more than an hour to get there. It was going to be a long ride.

The bus stopped at zone C and everyone else that had gotten on the bus up to that point got off. We stayed put. The driver viewed us through the rearview mirror leerily, waiting for us to move. Then he closed the bus doors and went on again.

The bus rolled into F4 after 1:30 that morning. We stepped into the night and looked around. Trevor shivered. Neither of us had ever been this close to the town's border. A rusty gate ran across the opposite side of the street. On the other side was the restricted area. Only fully licensed trackers and gatherers were permitted access outside of the town's gate. Stiffs roamed around freely there, and humans scoured it sporadically and judiciously, looking for resources. It was unguarded and perilous.

The bus driver looked out at us through the opened bus doors. His face was wrinkled and round, and he had dark shadows under his eyes. "You two be careful out here. The next bus isn't for another hour. F4 isn't safe parts. Don't do anything stupid, you hear? That's how we lose good young Wakes."

We nodded dumbly. The bus doors closed with a hiss and the bus rattled away, trailing fumes behind, leaving us in the dark.

"Now what?" I asked, shifting my backpack so it rested more securely over my shoulders.

"I don't know," Trevor answered, gazing around. "I don't see the Advanced kids."

"Do you know where they were gonna meet?" I asked.

Trevor shook his head. "I only heard they were meeting here in F4. I figured they would meet near the bus station."

I turned around in place, scanning the area. "I don't see them anywhere," I finally said. "Maybe they already went out."

Trevor gazed toward the gate. "Probably. What do you want to do? Bolt?"

I shook my head firmly. If my heart beat, it would be beating with excitement. My brain was on fire. It was the most alive I'd felt in a while. I wasn't ready to throw that feeling away.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked uncertainly.

"We came out here to track humans, Trev," I said. "I'm tracking humans."

"We could just go back to the Hub, spend some of your creds," Trevor suggested.

"This was your idea!"

"Well, I was kind of fried at the time. It seemed like a good idea then. Now it seems kind of ... dumb."

I shot him an agitated glance. He had been the one who had convinced me to come. Now he was trying to bail.

"We do the same thing every weekend," I said. "But not tonight."

"I don't know anything about human tracking. It'll be dangerous, Zell."

"Good," I said, dropping my backpack to the ground and unzipping it. "I'm tired of safe. Safe is boring." I began pulling out my safety gear. "Look," I said without looking up. "If you don't want to go out there with me I understand. I'm just tired of doing the same thing in Revenant." I gazed up at him. "I keep thinking, Trev. I keep thinking how I've only been a zombie for a few years. And I'm already bored. And I'm going to be here forever. Forever. I'd rather die again doing something interesting, than be bored back to death. If you want to stay in school, learning the same things and following the same zombie life as your mentor, be my guest. But I need to do something. I can't keep going to school or getting fried or finding a way to fill the time. There's got to be more to life after death than this town. Whatever it is, I'm not going to find it by following the same routine week after week. I need something more than that. I need more."

I pulled out my safety gear and stood, turning from him. He came up behind him and put a hand on my shoulder. "Okay," he grinned, his pale lips parting to reveal his stained teeth. "I'm with you. Let's have some fun."

"Thriller," I whispered, turning to face the gate. I felt a burning in my head. I had died a long time ago and I hadn't yet lived. Tonight it felt like I was for the first time.

Trevor opened his backpack and pulled out his gear, and we both began pulling the rubber suits on over our clothes. It didn't matter if we wouldn't track down any humans tonight. Just getting outside of this stale town was enough. And besides, humans were hard enough to find. It was almost impossible to track down a human with professional tracker groups like those led by my mentor. The only concern was Stiffs, but they were easy to avoid if you kept quiet and didn't make any sudden movements. I think I was more interested in just seeing what it was like outside of Revenant. I had spent my entire zombified life within the boundaries of this little zombie community. I had never seen a Stiff close up, never interacted with a human outside of the caged and tamed ones at Trevor's farm. I had never been in the real world. The only education I had was in school, where the grim pictures of the Stiff-infested world had been recited to me by instructors. I had never experienced anything in my entire conscious death, and I had no idea what was waiting for me outside of this stuffy little zombie town.

Tonight I was going to learn.

## 12. CHASING SHADOWS

The gate rattled as we climbed it and fell to the ground outside it. The grass was dry and wilted under our shoes. We stood. The bus stop was only a few yards behind us, inside the gate, but it suddenly felt like we had left all zombie civilization behind. I squirmed in my safety gear. It was so bulky it made it hard to move. It was meant to protect against humans, but it wasn't designed to shield off zombie attacks. A ravenous Stiff would probably be able to bite right through the rubber material and tear into my skin. Even so, it was better than nothing.

I squinted through the clear shield of the hood that I had over my head. It really made it hard to see. I looked vaguely toward Trevor and he shook his head at me. He pulled off his helmet and let it fall behind him, connected at the neck.

"This won't work," he said. "I can't see anything."

I took off my helmet. "Me either."

"This gear is too bulky, too," Trevor complained, pulling at the rubber fabric.

I put my hand out to him. "Let's leave it on. Just in case. It can't hurt."

He shrugged in response.

"Now what?" I asked.

"You're the human tracker's apprentice," Trevor answered.

I rolled my head to the side, trying to think back on the Guide to Tracking Humans my mentor had made me read over and over again, and had quizzed me on so many times. "The first step is to account for all trackers."

Trevor looked at me with an obvious expression.

"I'm just trying to remember the rules," I told him. "Next we're supposed to set up a perimeter."

"How are we supposed to set up a perimeter when there's only two of us?" he demanded.

"You aren't supposed to go tracking with only two zombies," I replied. "It's dangerous."

Trevor shook his head. "Undie a little, would you?"

"Fine," I said. "After you set up a perimeter you're supposed to start scouring your area with a partner. You're never supposed to be alone when tracking. Stiffs are either avoided or disposed of, depending on how invasive they are."

"It would help if we had some hum catching supplies," Trevor said. "We have to do everything with our hands."

"We probably won't even find a human," I said.

"Good," Trevor replied. "I don't know what we would do if we did."

"If we do, we'll just have to bring it in together," I added. "Our gear will protect us. But if they have a weapon, we don't attack. Even trackers avoid armed humans."

Trevor nodded. "Sure. Okay, let's go. All these rules are giving me a headache."

We went forward down the field carefully. It was quiet and the further we got from the boundary of Revenant, the quieter it got. Even the sound of buzzing flies, which I had become accustomed to my whole life, began to fade. There were no forests and few trees around us. Just a long span of dead grass stretching away from us.

We walked for a long time in silence, creeping down the field. Nothing changed. Our feet crinkled against the brittle grass. Trevor stopped. I looked back at him.

"This is boring," he complained.

My mentor had often told me that human tracking took a lot of perseverance and patience. I was beginning to understand why Trevor was evaluated to be a breeder and not a tracker. We had barely gone ten minutes. Human trackers went hours without finding anything. I went back to him.

"It's not gonna be easy," I whispered. "Human tracking is 1% luck and 99% unluck. That's what my mentor says."

Trevor kicked at the ground. "Maybe we should just go back to the Hub."

I sighed. "We can't give up now. Let's just keep going. At least for a little longer."

"I don't know," Trevor said. "I mean, it's like chasing shadows. There's nothing here."

"Just a little longer," I said. "It's a process." We were here. I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to go back to the Hub or zone C or zone A or my regular zombie life. Not without really trying.

Trevor shrugged absently. I motioned for him to follow me and we began down the field again. Trevor had become impatient with discreet methods of human tracking and had begun talking idly. He was walking casually through the field like he was going to a zombie picnic, and at one point he picked up a stick and started smacking at the nearby bushes as we passed. It was becoming impossible to take our mission seriously.

"Maybe being a tracker isn't more exciting than breeding," Trevor complained.

I wanted to punch him in the nose. This had been his idea. Now he was just goofing off like he always did. Sometimes the kid was so annoying. I stopped moving forward and stood erect, my back cracking as I did. I twisted my neck to stretch it, snapping my head back and forth.

"Let's just go back," Trevor said. "I thought leaving Revenant would be fun. But it's even more boring out here than it is in zone A!"

I thought about it. A loud cracking interrupted us. It came from across the field, over the hill. We heard shouting. Trevor's eyes bulged.

"Come on!" he cried, and hurried forward.

I tried to grab him to stop him. The last thing you were supposed to do when tracking humans was to run blindly into a situation. But we weren't tracking humans anymore. We were just a couple of zombie kids looking to find something interesting again. I sprinted after him.

We raced across the field until we came to a slope. Trevor stopped there and gazed down. I came behind him and matched his gaze.

"It's the kids from the Advanced class," Trevor whispered.

Six zombie kids were gathered around at the bottom of the slope, a few yards in front of us. "Get it!" one yelled. It looked like they were wrestling. They seemed to be pushing against each other, and arms were swinging now and then. We could hear them grunting and swearing under their breaths.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

Then the students below began to break away from each other.

"Get down," Trevor whispered, and pulled me to a crouching position on the slope.

Among them, bound by wires around the wrists and waist, and a snare connected to a long metal handle secured tightly to its neck, stood a Stiff. It was digging its feet into the ground, trying to move forward, but the students held it securely, its arms stretched off to the side, so that it couldn't advance. It was thin, with a tattered black coat and belted pants and drooping, pale skin. The Stiff was slobbering over itself, its jaw hanging open as it tried to bite at the air. Stiffs always attacked with their teeth first. It made them more vulnerable, but they didn't know any better.

"Woowee, it's a big one!" I heard Big Jake call. He held the handle to the snare that was cinched around the Stiff's neck.

"Looks kind of scrawny to me," one of the kids returned.

"It's the most action we've gotten all night," Big Jake shot back. "From my eyes, it's as big as a mountain."

"Should we bring it in?" another kid asked.

"Are you nuts?" Big Jake cried. "And announce to everyone, including our mentors, that we were out human tracking alone. That's real smart, Eddie."

"Well, I was just thinking," Eddie offered back.

"I doubt that," Big Jake huffed.

"What do we do with it?" another kid asked.

"Look, we've got enough Wakes in Revenant anyway, and not enough brains to go around as it is. They wouldn't educate it anyway, and the Stockade's a packed house, too," Big Jake replied. "We do what we've been taught to do with dead weight. If it ain't worth bringing back, and it ain't worth the trouble to have it around ..." Big Jake reached into his pocket and withdrew a pocketknife. He flicked open the blade. "We dispose of it."

With his other hand he tugged on the handle to jerk the Stiff forward. "Bring it down," he commanded.

The other kids holding the wires obeyed, drawing the Stiff to the ground by force onto its stomach. It thrashed wildly with its legs and tried desperately to lift its arms over its head, all the while digging its mouth into the ground and swallowing piles of dirt mechanically.

Big Jake moved toward the Stiff and crouched down, digging his knee into the back of its neck. Big Jake's nickname was not a pretense. He was wide-bodied and thick, with big arms and a neck that was bigger than his head. Physically, he was a perfect human tracker. That's probably why they decided to make him a Wake. His skin was deep purple, almost black in color. He had taken longer than normal to reawaken, and his body had gone through some of the later stages of death before he reanimated as a Stiff, one of the results being a darker skin color that was more droopy and waxy. The skin on his face looked like it was hanging off his skull, as if it had been imagined by Salvador Dalí.

Big Jake sat on the back of the Stiff, pushing its chin into the ground so that its mouth was clinched shut. A Stiff never felt as useless as when you prevented it from being able to bite. It began kicking its legs even more wildly, trying to force itself up, but the pressure of Big Jake's weight wasn't letting it go anywhere. Stiffs are a lot stronger than humans, but not stronger than Wakes. We have brains and brawn, Joe – the total package.

Big Jake let go of the handle connected to the snare fitted around the Stiff's neck and raised his switchblade over his head. His eyes narrowed. He held the knife in both hands over the Stiff's head. I knew what was coming next. The only way to truly kill a Stiff. Destroy the brain. Stick and twist. Big Jake drove the knife into the top of the Stiff's skull in one motion, a dull crack sounding as it broke through the bone. Zombies' skin was tough, but our bones had the same density as humans'. As long as you had enough force behind it, it wasn't too hard to break through. But that's why humans had a lot of trouble taking out zombies with hand-held weapons. They weren't strong enough to break through the skin with one hit. Projectiles like guns or arrows were much more effective.

Big Jake twisted the knife in the Stiff's skull, just as he had been taught. This helped insure that the Stiff was completely dead and not just brain damaged. Even a Stiff that only knew how to bite could prove dangerous, and we didn't like to leave any of our predecessors even partially undead. It wasn't humane. We were all Stiffs at one time, after all.

The Stiff went limp. Big Jake slowly raised himself off of it. It didn't move. Its head rolled to one side and its arms and legs hung out at its sides, spread out from its body, like it was making a snow angel in the dirt. Big Jake held his pocketknife up to his eyes and viewed it, dark blood glistening on the steel against the light of the moon and stars.

"My first kill," he said aloud. He deftly flicked the blade back into the handle and put the knife back in his pocket. He puffed out his chest proudly. "It's no human, but it's something," he said without looking back.

"Stiffs are a dime a dozen," another kid said.

Big Jake shot him an angry look. "I didn't see any others, did you?"

No one replied at first.

"But we see them all the time when we do field work," another kid finally offered.

"And we're only allowed to observe," Big Jake answered. "Just be glad you got some action for once. We're ahead of the curve. The other kids won't have their first hands-on experience until next semester."

"Let's go find another one," Eddie excitedly suggested.

Big Jake shook his head. "Don't you know anything, brain-dead? One death will attract a horde. And hordes don't attract humans. Let's get outta here."

"Where to?"

"Let's hit the Hub again," Big Jake said. "We need to celebrate."

"Great! Let's get fried!" Eddie shot back with a hyena-like laugh.

Big Jake waved them forward and they began back toward Revenant, leaving the Stiff where it lay on the ground. After the noise of the Advanced kids' voices faded, Trevor and I stood. If I were still alive my heart would have been pounding. My brain was on fire, though. I had never seen a Stiff up close, let alone seen one killed. It was disturbing and thrilling. I think I liked it.

"Come on," Trevor shouted, and hurried down the grassy slope.

"Trevor, hold on!" I said, but couldn't stop him. I went after him.

We came to the Stiff's body. Blood was staining the dirt and grass under its head. Even though zombies don't produce new blood cells, we retain whatever blood was in our body when we died. Most of it gets recycled and fed to the brain to keep it active. The rest of our body is filled with bile and other bodily fluids, though blood still is relatively present in our muscles, organs, and other tissues.

The Stiff's mouth hung open and it stared coldly upward, like it was looking directly at us. Trevor crouched down and viewed the Stiff carefully. He put his hand to the wound in the back of its head, moving his finger around and feeling everything. The blood-stained skin, the fractured skull, the punctured brain. Everything.

"Thriller," he mumbled in a harsh whisper.

"Trevor, let's go," I said. Big Jake was right. It wasn't safe to stay around a dead Stiff for long.

"Look at it," Trevor said. "It's nothing. Gone. Dead. Really dead." He looked up at me. "I almost forgot that death really existed. Absolute death, I mean. Not our death. Not living death. I almost forgot. It's kind of scary, isn't it, Zell? We can die. We can still die."

I nodded silently. We weren't invulnerable. Stiffs were dying proof of that.

"Come on, Trevor," I said. "Let's go."

He nodded quietly but didn't move. I took his arm in my hand and urged him to stand. He obeyed after a few minutes.

"Let's go home," I said. "I've had enough tracking for one night."

"Sure," Trevor said hesitantly. "That was pretty thriller, Zell. Thanks for making me come."

I nodded. "Maybe we can come out again next week. Maybe we can try to take out a Stiff ourselves."

"I don't know," Trevor said doubtfully.

"It beats going to the Hub again," I replied. I was excited. For once, I couldn't wait until next weekend. We could gather some tracking equipment from my mentor and make a real go of it then. We wouldn't have really been able to take out a Stiff tonight, not without weapons. But if we prepared, maybe we could have our first kill too. It was exhilarating. I couldn't wait.

We turned and began heading in the same direction as the Advanced kids.

"Rrrrrrrrr."

We stopped. Trevor looked around uncertainly. Then we saw them. They were glowing dots in the blackness, their eyes orbs of light. Then they appeared from the dark, like shadows. From out of nowhere. Like they always did. They smelled the blood. That's the only thing that drew them by smell. Blood. Wakes could smell it too. We could smell it from miles away. That rusty, tangy smell was like sex for the nostrils. They came quickly. They aren't as slow as you might think. Especially if they had died within a few weeks. Then they're fast. And dangerous. Really dangerous.

The Stiffs came upon us suddenly. First one. Then two more. And four more. And they were a forming a line closing in on us. A horde. All around us, growling and gurgling and moving forward quickly, partially dragging their feet while running. Their jaws snapped madly with a sharp chomping sound. Their yellow eyes glowed in the gloom.

Trevor and I stepped back from the prone body of the Stiff. The horde was filing toward us like a band of prisoners on a death march with no alternative but to continue forward. And they were hungry. They were always hungry. And they were everywhere. Their shadows suffocated us.

And then, the Stiffs were on us.

## 13. REVENGE OF THE STIFFS

"Run," I said, too softly to be audible. "Run!" I forced the word through my throat.

We turned and raced across the field, slipping through the bodies of the enclosing mob of living dead. The Stiffs gave chase. They were mindless. They had come for blood, but once they saw us, knew we were there, they were drawn to us. Stiffs tended to have a one-track mind, focusing only on the most recent thing to pervade their senses. The lifeless Stiff was less than an afterthought – it was a nonthought.

"Don't stop," I said. That was feasible. Another benefit of being a zombie is that you never got tired. You didn't have to breathe, so you never ran out of breath. As long as your body was in working condition, and your brain was active, you could keep going forever.

The horde wasn't far behind us. Two or three had bumped into each other and started tearing themselves apart. That happened. Stiffs usually didn't attack each other unless they had the smell of blood on or near them. They didn't attack Wakes for the same reason. Even humans were left alone. They were only really dangerous when they smelled blood, or became aware that a living, animate creature was nearby. Then they attacked with all their force, mindlessly and viciously and without relent.

More had started to gather. They heard the other Stiffs. They smelled the blood. They would see the horde. Any that had been around, hidden in the brush or some yards off wandering mindlessly unseen, would join quickly. It would only get worse. Hordes attracted hordes. That was another lesson of the Guide to Tracking Humans. I was learning a lot of lessons today. If tonight's tracking expedition had been a test, I'd be failing.

A Stiff lurched at me from the side. I blocked its arm with mine as it threw its head forward. I elbowed it under its jaw and its head snapped back. I shoved it away and kept running.

"There's too many," I said to Trevor.

Trevor shook his head. "What do we do?"

"Split up," I said. "We have to separate them or they'll just keep coming."

"Then what?"

"Keep running. Until you lose them, or they lose you. Meet me back at the bus station. Be careful. Okay?"

Trevor nodded. I pointed for him to go the left. He held up his arm as we ran. I connected mine to his. Then we split. I dashed off to the right at full speed. I glanced behind me. The Stiffs had separated. A few had gotten confused and began wrestling with each other. About six were following me now. It was better odds. But I had to get away from them or more would just jump in.

A copse appeared before me. More Stiffs could be within. At night Stiffs tended to rest, and they gathered in dense areas like forests. I could be running into a more grim situation. But it would be easier to lose them with some cover. I sprinted quickly ahead, shoving away a Stiff that was closing in. I dove into the brush and veered off, weaving between tree trunks. I was making a lot of noise, snapping twigs and rustling through bushes. I didn't care. I needed to get as far away from the Stiffs as I could, so they couldn't find me.

I ran past a tree, bouncing off it with my hands as I passed and moving in the opposite direction. I glided over the grass and brush. I could still hear the Stiffs growling behind me, but it was growing fainter. They were having a hard time keeping track of me. Once they lost sight of me it would be over.

I jumped over a log. I was jerked to the ground, falling face first into a pile of brittle leaves. My head was dazed as I spun onto my back and gazed ahead. A thick, pale hand was clinched around my ankle. The Stiff that had been lying on the ground, dormant, had been reanimated by the noise of my escape through the woods. It sat on one elbow with its legs sprawled off at opposite angles and was slowly pulling its upper body up. It had been there for a while, all but dead from brain deprivation. Its eyes rolled up toward me, blood shot and blank. The skin on its face was tight, its eyes sunken in, and maggots crawled in and around its face, through torn pieces of flesh. This Stiff was on its last legs. It held my ankle tightly as it drew itself closer to me.

I struggled to break free of its grip. It was impossible. I'd have to break my ankle to get free. The Stiff's jaw hung open as it slowly began to snap it open and closed, saliva pouring out around its lips. Its tongue hung limply out of its mouth, and it began biting into it, piercing it until it bit so hard that it severed it in its jaw and it fell off. The Stiff didn't seem to mind. Its long angular face continued to stare at me as it moved forward, dragging itself slowly and mechanically toward me as its body forced itself to work again.

The Stiff's face is still drilled into my memory, moonlight splashed across it as it pulled itself out of the shadows of the trees. I had never seen an undead Stiff this close before. It was so much like us. This Stiff with its pale dead skin and lust for blood and brains was just a lobotomized version of myself. If I hadn't been chosen by the town's government to be educated, this Stiff would be me. And in another world, maybe this Stiff could have taken my place in town, enjoying the benefits of human intelligence the way I did. So many little experiences and decisions had separated us, placing me in Revenant and it in these woods, none of which either of us had any influence over. This Stiff had been me, once. We were the same, but I was somehow better, more deserving than it was. And I had no problem distinguishing myself from it, because I had been granted these privileges and it hadn't. As it gazed at me fixedly with its cold, blank eyes, I thought to myself that living death was a hell of a thing.

I tried to back up, but it held me close. I couldn't get free. I grunted, my hands grabbing at dead leaves and dirt as I tried to find something to defend myself with. The Stiff crawled toward me. Its free hand fell on my leg and it began digging its fingers in. I kicked its hand away with my free leg and then raised it and shoved my foot as hard as I could into the Stiff's face. Its nose was shattered and half of its face was smashed to one side. The maggots scattered. It slowly turned its head to face me and began crawling toward me again. It hadn't loosened its grip on my ankle at all.

It began to stand, raising itself onto its knees and then shakily onto its feet, and stumbled toward me. It snapped its jaws in the direction of my head. It knew what it wanted. Brains. It wouldn't keep it undead. But it didn't know that. It didn't know anything.

I raised my free leg and kicked at it again, this time in the chest. The Stiff buckled backward and fell on one leg. It began to rise again. I threw my leg again into its chest and it flew backward, but not before reaching with its other hand and grabbing my other ankle. It held itself up, using my legs as an anchor. It turned its head toward me again, snapping its jaw. I tried to wrestle my legs free, but I couldn't. Its grasp was like a vise, crushing my ankles. It began to drag my body toward it.

I panicked. I was dead. This Stiff was going to completely devour me. I clinched my eyes shut and waited for absolute death.

Then I threw myself forward, hands to the ground, and launched myself up with all my strength. I flew up and my head sailed right toward the Stiff's jaws. I screamed huskily as the Stiff dropped open its mouth to devour my face.

I threw my hands in front of me and shoved them into the Stiff's mouth. It tried to bite down with all its force. I pulled my hands apart, keeping the Stiff's mouth from snapping shut. It held me in the air by my legs as I hovered over it in a half sitting position.

I stared into its glossy eyes. They quivered back at me, unblinking. I groaned and pulled at the Stiff's jaws with all my strength. Its head snapped back and the muscles holding its jaw together snapped apart with a thick wet crack. The Stiff was thrown back.

I landed over it, the Stiff's hands still clenched to my ankles. I reached down and pried its fingers off, snapping the bones of its fingers with a swift jerk and pulling my ankles away.

I stepped away from the Stiff's body. Its eyes gazed at me. It head wiggled slightly as it tried to open its jaw, which was no longer attached. It was still undead.

I didn't care. I didn't have the time or the means to put it out of its misery. The horde of Stiffs had caught up, drawn by the sounds of our struggle and were just behind me, moving between trunks of trees toward me, dark figures slinking forward against black pillars. I had to get out of there. I dashed off.

I weaved between tree trunks, splashing through leaves that scraped at my tough skin. A creek bed appeared a few yards before me. It was empty. Dried up. I glanced behind me. The horde was farther back now. I was probably just a black flit against the other dark objects in the forest, if they even still had sight of me at all.

I jutted between two more trees and headed straight for the creek. As I came to the edge I stopped and leaned, down, placing my hands on the ground to support me as I slid down the side of the dirt wall of the empty creek and lowered myself into it.

I pressed myself against the dirt wall, my hands curling around the soft soil. I put my head back and rested it behind me. I listened, waiting for the horde. I didn't know if any had seen the direction I had headed. Hopefully, if I kept hidden long enough, they would just keep moving forward until the wave was past me and I could head back to Revenant. The Stiffs were still groaning around me in the distance, barreling through twigs and bushes without any regard. I shook my head. They were hopeless.

I dropped my head and looked to my right. Something stared back at me. I blinked. My eyes went wide. A human. A girl, maybe a couple years younger than I had been when I died. She was blonde with shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes. She was thin and dirty in jeans, a jacket, and a tank top, and a heavy bag strapped to her back. She stared at me with round eyes and a gaping mouth. She was pressed to the dirt wall a few feet away from me. Her chest was moving up and down so quickly it looked like it was about to explode. Her head quivered and her mouth twisted open to scream.

I jumped at her, putting my hand over her mouth to silence her. She tried to break away, but I held her securely with my other arm and pushed her against the dirt mound.

"Shut up," I hissed. This dumb hum was going to get us both killed.

I waited, holding her close so she couldn't move. She was wiry and young, physically incapable of fighting off one Stiff let alone a horde. These types of humans never left the safe zone. I wondered what she was doing here.

I had never seen a human my age before. She was like a more colorful version of myself. She smelled different, not like the hums at Trevor's barn. She smelled like dirt and sweat. She smelled alive. She was different. She wasn't dead like everyone else I knew. She didn't have the rich, dank smell I was so used to in Revenant. When she breathed, it was to sustain life, and didn't require any effort to draw the air in and expand her lungs, as with zombies. Each breath seemed so important, and the deep, rhythmic, panicked sound of drawing in air through her nostrils and expelling it was odd and terrifying. I had never breathed so hard in my death, because I had never needed to. I was so used to the austerity and stillness of being undead. The human was something else.

I heard a noise above us. A Stiff was making its way toward the creek. I looked up to the black sky and waited. Then it fell in. A few feet away. It walked right into the creek bed, tumbled in, and smacked against the far wall a few feet from us. So dumb it couldn't even avoid falling through a hole in the ground. The wonders that zombie school can do. It gradually pulled itself up and began looking around, its head swaying randomly on its neck. The girl tried to scream again and I pressed my hand into her mouth harder. If we didn't move, it wouldn't know to attack us. We were clean. No blood. It didn't know we were even there.

It looked around dazedly, its head swiveling back and forth. Its jaw hung open. It began walking, stepping lightly through the creek in our direction, its feet squishing against the soft soil. The girl tried to break away. I held her fast. That was the best way to draw a Stiff's attention. At a close range like this, with no open space to get to, it would catch her with ease. The girl kept struggling to get away and I held her tightly. There was no way she could escape. I was too strong.

The Stiff ambled past us. Its movements were slow and ginger. It was lost and uncertain, like it had forgotten why it had been running and what it was doing in the first place. Stiff's had very short memories. One step followed the other slowly as it began to move away from us, its long, bony arms swaying mechanically with each footfall. Its head jerked from side to side as it walked, and as it moved past us its eyes locked directly on us. The girl froze. Its head tilted to the side and its jaw hung open, drool dribbling down its chin. It uttered a low, throaty grunt and its head swung back to the other side and it kept walking. The girl exhaled, and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my clammy palm. It was different from mine. My breath was frosty. Everything about being dead was cold, really.

I waited until the Stiff was a few feet ahead of us. Then I held up the bone of my finger toward the human and stepped lightly forward after it. It was safer to incapacitate it. Killing it wasn't an option. I didn't have any tools and if I smashed its skull, the blood would just attract the Stiff horde again. I snuck carefully up behind it and quickly snapped its neck, breaking its head from the spinal chord. The Stiff collapsed in a heap. Once the spinal chord was disconnected, it no longer had control of its body. It snapped its jaws wildly as its head hung loosely from its neck. It was fairly harmless now. It would die eventually.

Now to worry about the human girl. I wasn't sure what do with her. I couldn't let her go. Revenant needed humans. Especially ones viable for breeding. I couldn't just eat her brains for myself. She was a much-needed resource for our town, and especially my community. That left only one option. I would have to bring her in. I brushed my hands together and turned to face her. She screamed and lunged at me, a knife in her hand. My eyes bulged and before I could react, she thrust the knife with all her strength into me.

## 14. DEAD WEIGHT

The knife barely pierced my skin. I was surprised it did as much damage as it had done. It hung limply from the tip out of the section between my chest and my right shoulder blade. The girl was already running down the empty creak bed, to where I wasn't sure. I tugged the knife out. It was a tiny, rusty gold-plated dagger that looked like it was actually meant to be used as a letter opener. The wound could hardly be considered a paper cut. I slipped the knife into the belt of my safety gear and ran after the human.

I caught up to her quickly. She wasn't very fast. It made me wonder how she had survived out here in Stiffsville. She screamed as I grabbed her and I instantly put my hand over her mouth to stifle her.

"Do you want to get us both killed?" I demanded through a harsh whisper. "Stiffs're all over the place. You wanna attract another horde?"

She continued to struggle in my grasp.

"Listen, if you don't calm down then I'll kill you myself," I said bluntly. "I'm not going to get killed by a bunch of Stiffs because of one dumb, squirmy human. Understand?"

She tried to jerk free again.

"Look, if I wanted to kill you I would have already," I said. "Don't make me have to."

The girl slowly began to calm down. She stopped struggling and stood still, rigid and blank-faced.

I slowly removed my hand from her mouth, holding her securely with the other. She didn't move. She didn't scream.

"Good," I said in a whisper. "Be quiet, or they'll kill us both."

She stared forward at me, her eyes so wide it looked like her eyelids had been pulled up over them and inside her head. Her mouth was clenched shut and she shivered uncontrollably in my grasp. Zombies tended to have that effect on humans.

"You can talk," she breathed the words wispily.

I rolled my eyes and looked away from her. I had to figure out exactly what I was going to do now. I couldn't let her go. I was a student of human tracking. The most important rule was to never let a human go once found unless your or another Wake's life is threatened. But how was I going to get her back to Revenant? I could force her back to the edge of town, but I couldn't bring a human on the bus. I'd need to find the nearest human tracker and put her in his hands. Still, our community needed humans. To give her up to another community wouldn't do us any good. But I couldn't drag her all the way back to zone A on my own. Even with Trevor's help it would be difficult.

Trevor. I had forgotten all about him. I hoped he was okay. We were supposed to meet at the bus station again once we were safe. That was the only thing to do. I'd bring her back with me and then I and Trevor could figure out what to do with her, if he was still undead. Maybe we could bring her back to zone A together.

I waited a few more minutes, holding the trembling human closely, listening. The commotion of growling and trampling Stiffs had faded and only the chirping of crickets could be heard in the darkness, the occasional scampering of a forest animal accompanying it.

"The horde's gone," I said quietly. "I think it's safe now. Come on."

I took her wrist in my hand and turned toward the dirt wall. I pulled myself up and out with my free hand, holding firmly to the human as I did. I sat up on my feet and pulled the girl out of the creek bed and stood. She collapsed on the ground before me, letting her head hang down and the short strands of blonde, dirty hair fall around her face. She was filthy and weak. She couldn't survive in this world. She should be dead or a zombie. I could feel her pulse against my fingers through her wrist as I held her. It was thumping quickly, over and over, pounding at my empty fingertips, echoing inside me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from tearing into her head and devouring her brain. But that's one of the reasons I was in school, to curb my cravings. So I let her recover. We needed her alive in Revenant. But I couldn't help feel that she would be better off if I ended it all and ate her brain right then. I gazed at her sorrowfully. I felt bad for humans. They were fragile, useless things. It made me suddenly very proud to be a zombie, and not to be one of them. It made me glad that we were able to do good, by putting these human things out of their misery, and help the world evolve. Thank goodness for the zombie awakening. Who knows what these impotent mortals would have done to themselves if we hadn't come along?

I gave her a few minutes, then I pulled her up to her feet. "Let's go," I said.

She stumbled after me, stepping drearily along behind me as I paced through the forest, trying to retrace my steps. She barely resisted. She didn't have any choice. Once in a while she would test me by trying to pull her hand away, but my grip was always firm. Otherwise, she allowed herself to be dragged along. She didn't scream. She didn't complain. She didn't beg. I thought it was kind of brave, until I realized that she had all but given up, then she seemed weak again.

I fumbled around in the darkness of the forest for a while, lost. I didn't have the best sense of direction. Trevor was better at that. I tried to make my way back the way I had come, but it was hard to figure out which way that was, being that I was had been chased by a horde of Stiffs and hadn't really had the chance to observe my surroundings. Eventually, though, I made my way out of the forest and into the clearing. I had managed to avoid any encounters with straggling Stiffs that hadn't been awakened. Most of them had herded off deeper into the forest, anyway.

It was easier to find my way back now. Soon I came to the field where the Stiffs first came upon us. They were gone now. So was most of the Stiff's body that the Advanced kids had disposed of. Only pieces of rotted, torn flesh and bones remained. Its skull was shattered. There wasn't a morsel of brain left inside. There never was. Stiffs scrape it clean like a hungry beggar given a bowl of soup to eat for the first time in weeks. The stringy, spongy bits of flesh, scattered about the ground, only remained because they were too stupid to know they were there. They are dumb. If it doesn't move, or it doesn't smell of recently spilled blood, they don't know there's still something left to eat. The chunks that were torn away from the body in the frenzy got left for the forest creatures. Pieces of skeleton, lined with muscle fragments that couldn't be gnawed away, lay in a pile on a stretch of bloody dirt and crimson-stained grass. There was almost nothing left of the Stiff.

The girl vomited. I forgot that humans aren't used to this. She fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath. I shook my head. She was dead weight. If the Stiffs returned, I would have to abandon her to them. She would drag me down with her. I kicked aside a piece of splintered bone as I waited for her to recollect herself. She sobbed inside her throat, half-choking on her own regurgitation. She was disgusting.

"Are you done yet?" I asked impatiently.

She gurgled something back at me that no intelligent creature, human or zombie, could feign to understand.

"It's dead," I said. "There's no reason to be scared of it."

She shot me a nasty look, like she was trying to bore a bullet into my head with the barrel of her eye sockets. Her eyes were dry, and green, vomity drool trickled down her chin. She hadn't been crying. She had been doing something else. I hadn't learned a word for it yet, if there was one in the human language. She wiped the drool form her mouth with the sleeve of her free arm and swallowed loudly.

"This is what they did to my brother," she whispered hoarsely.

She hadn't been alone.

"It's what they always do," I replied evenly. "Come on. Before they come back for seconds."

I drew her to her feet and pulled her with me. She held herself close with her free arm, her head hanging. She was alone. The person she had come out into the forest with, her brother, was dead. This world was no longer a place for humans. Honestly, humanity just didn't make sense anymore. I was doing her a favor by bringing her to Revenant.

We traveled in silence the rest of the way. She no longer tried to pull away. It was sad. But it was for the best. She had nothing to go back to. None of them did. The world belonged to Wakes now. Humans were the food source. We were the livelihood. Ironic, considering we were technically dead.

The air was cold and heavy. I could tell because my skin was tingling in a way it didn't when it was warm. It didn't feel bad. It just felt kind of weird. I didn't really feel pain anymore. The human girl was shuddering, moving slowly and with labored steps. She seemed exhausted. I wouldn't be able to take her very far into town without letting her rest. I didn't have time for that, though. I would have to carry her. Why did humans have to get tired? It was so annoying.

I stopped walking. The human hadn't seen it, but it was obvious to me. A few yards ahead, outlined against the shadows of the night was a pack of Stiffs, moving with feet dragging in aimless circles. They were in an infinite cycle. One Stiff randomly followed another Stiff's sluggish movements, which followed another's, which followed the first's. They would mindlessly follow each other until something drew one's attention, or they went comatose from not feeding. Being a Stiff did not lend itself to a very meaningful existence.

I put my hand in front of the human's face to stop her. I lowered my head a few inches to whisper into her ear. "Three Stiffs dead ahead. If we walk slowly we can go around them and they won't even notice us. Just stay to the side of the road and don't make any sudden movements or noise."

She nodded numbly.

I drew her behind me, stepping along the edge of the road where the mound rose. I kept my eyes glued to the Stiffs. They didn't even utter a grunt in our direction as we passed. They were completely oblivious to anything outside of their game of follow-the-leader. They really weren't even worth the trouble of killing, even though it was really the humane thing to do if they weren't going to be educated - absolute death was better than a meaningless one. But for now it was safer to let them be.

"Hey, dum-dums! Over here!"

My eyes swelled. I snapped my head to gaze back at the girl. She flung her free arm forward, unleashing a hail of stones from her hand. They rained on the Stiff pack and one turned in our direction and began to move laboriously toward us. It had a wide chest and shoulders, and was missing half an arm.

"What are you doing?" I demanded in a harsh whisper.

The girl flailed her free hand wildly in the air. "Over here!" she called.

"Hey!" I shook her wrist. "Knock it off!"

She grinned insidiously at me. "Here come your friends."

I stared awestruck at her. Then I spun away and faced the Stiffs as they began racing toward us. "Holy hell," I muttered. I tossed the human aside as the Stiffs fell on me.

## 15. BAD BLOOD

I grabbed the first Stiff by the arm as it threw itself at me, and putting my other hand to the back of its head, I tossed it as hard as I could away from me and toward the ground. It pitched forward straight into the dirt, sprawling out awkwardly just a few feet from the girl, who was lying on her back, propped up on her elbows. The Stiff raised its head off the ground and its dark, filmy eyes met the girl's. Don't scream, I thought.

"Aaaaaaahhhh!" The girl's cry was ear piercing. I sighed roughly as the Stiff began crawling toward her.

I broke forward, slipping past the other two advancing Stiffs, and grabbed the Stiff that kneeled on the ground by the shoulders, lifting it up and tossing it back. "Idiot!" I hissed at her. "It wouldn't have known you were there if you had kept quiet!"

Her face was sallow and she blinked over and over, unspeaking.

I turned away from her as the three Stiffs converged on me. The one that I had thrown to the ground pushed itself against me, driving my body against the slope behind me and partially pinning my right arm under the weight of my body. My head smacked dully against a boulder implanted in the ground. If I wasn't a zombie, the force likely would have cracked my skull. Pinning my shoulders to the mound with both forearms, it extended its head forward, its mouth opening wider than should be possible, as the two Stiffs behind it pushed into us and reached their arms out, fingers bent like claws, to tear into me. The girl was so still that the Stiffs no longer even remembered she was there. If I hadn't tossed her aside, they would have gone after both of us. I had no idea why I had protected her. I should have used her as live bait, but for some reason, I didn't want her to die.

I drove my left forearm around the nearest Stiff's arm and into its neck to hold its head back. It snapped its jaws mercilessly at me, snarling and sputtering as it pushed its head forward, extending its neck as far as it would go. I tried to pull my other arm out from under my body, but I could barely nudge it against the force of the Stiff holding me down. I gazed to my left, looking for the human. She was standing, watching the Stiffs piling on top of me. Then she ran. She sprinted away in the direction I had been leading her. The Stiffs never turned from me as she faded into the darkness and I was left alone against the onslaught of undead louts.

The other Stiffs' hands were reaching out toward me, pressing against my face and neck and chest. They curled their fingers to dig into my skin. I tried desperately to free my arm from beneath me. The Stiff on top of me was edging its head across my forearm, growling with wrath. My arm was starting to come loose, centimeter by centimeter. I tried to raise my body as far as I could off of the hill, but I was pressed securely to it by the weight of the Stiffs. I grunted with effort.

The Stiff on top of me bent its head forward, its jaw hanging open. Spit was coating its chin and it made a sound like it was choking. It made a final stretch of its neck and bit down with all its strength into my bicep. I screamed deeply as its teeth bore into my flesh. Only a Stiff could have pierced through my skin and the material of my safety gear so easily. Dark, thick blood began to ooze from the wound, bubbling out slowly and dripping thick and heavy from my arm. With a burst of energy I tore my other arm free and locked my hand onto the top of the Stiff's skull. I pulled it with all my might, lifting the Stiff's head away from me and forcing it to release my arm from its mouth. My blood stained its lips and teeth. As I pulled its head away, it turned and looked straightaway at me. It made a low, gargling noise as it stared at me. It had tasted my blood. It wouldn't rest until it had devoured all of me.

If Trevor hadn't most likely been massacred by a herd of bloodhungry Stiffs, I would be really mad at him right now for dragging me out to track humans tonight in the first place.

I reached for my belt with my other hand and withdrew the letter opener I had taken off the human. I thrust it forward into the Stiff's head with all my strength. It made a sick, dull noise as it struck, piercing the skin, but not the skull. The Stiff gazed at me with unyielding eyes. It hadn't taken any heed of my attack. I thrust the knife forward again. I heard the thick, brittle sound of its skull cracking against the blade's force. I drove the knife through once more, jamming it into its brain, the Stiff's blood pouring out over my hands. I twisted the letter opener and the Stiff's body went limp against me. I pushed the weight of its body off of me and toward the other two Stiffs, drawing the knife from its head and pushing the Stiffs away. I held the body up toward them, holding the Stiff by its shirt collar and allowing its head to dip back. The two Stiffs immediately began tearing into the dead Stiffs head. I allowed the Stiff's body to fall away from me and onto the ground. The two Stiffs surrounded it and began tearing mindlessly into its flesh.

I slowly rose and stepped carefully around the occupied Stiffs. It was like I wasn't even there anymore. They were only concerned with the meal that was before them. As I stepped away from them I returned the letter opener to my belt and put my hand over my wound. Thick blood was coating my arm. The gloves of both my hands were stained with the blood of the Stiff. Others would be in the area soon. They would smell my blood quickly. They wouldn't stop until they found me. I had to get out of Stiff territory and back to Revenant.

I walked quickly away as the Stiffs tore into corpse before them. Then, when I was a safe distance past them, I sprinted forward. I couldn't believe that I had let the girl escape. I hadn't been careful. Hadn't kept my eye on her. Trusted her too much. That's one of the most important things they teach you in zombie school, Joe. Never trust a human. Now I knew why.

I ran as fast as I could. I didn't stop. I couldn't. Any delay and the Stiffs could catch up to me. In ten minutes I had reached the gate surrounding Revenant. As I came up to it I saw that the human girl was climbing down the other side. As she fell to the ground in town, she gazed forward at me with frightened eyes. She spun around and began to run.

I quickly scampered up the gate. My fingers were slick with blood, and I was careful not to let them slip as they curled around the mesh of the gate as I climbed to the top and jumped down on the other side. I darted after the girl and caught up to her with ease. I grabbed her by the sleeve of her jacket and held her firmly. "What the hell is the matter with you?" I demanded.

"Let me go!" she cried, trying to pull herself free.

"You could have gotten us both killed!" I cried.

"So?" she demanded, still struggling to break free.

She had no respect for life. She didn't deserve it. I tugged at her arm to get her to stop squirming. "That's enough. You're coming with me."

She tried to push against my chest to get free. It was no use. She struggled for a few minutes as a group of Stiffs noisily began to gather behind us, pressing up against the gate and rattling it loudly. They had smelled my blood and caught up to me. But they couldn't make it over the gate. They were too stupid to figure out how to climb it.

"Look," I said, pulling the human forward so she could look at the Stiffs gathered at the gate. "You either go with me or you go with them. There's no other option. You choose."

I pushed her forward toward the gate. The Stiffs curled their fingers around the mesh, pushing their faces against the gate and trying to bite at the metal wire. The human stood motionless for a few minutes longer, standing lifelessly where she was, pale and limp. If you didn't know any better, you would have guessed she was the zombie and I was the human. It was funny how human Wakes had become and how dead the humans had become. Not funny ha-ha. More funny hmmm.

She stood motionless, breathing shallowly. It was beginning to irritate me. She was such a useless lump of flesh. Her brother was dead and she was faced with the choice of living or being fed to a bunch of hungry Stiffs. None of that stirred her. It had deadened her. That's why zombies are superior to humans, Joe. Against adversity and turmoil, humans die. Zombies live. It's really that simple. It's evolution. Survival of the fittest. We live, we survive. That's why zombies inherited the earth. Don't let anybody tell you anything different.

I sighed. "Let's go," I said.

I pulled the girl forward and she followed me thoughtlessly. I couldn't see the bus stop. I hadn't gone back the exact way I had come. But the bus stop shouldn't be too far away. I led the human in the direction I thought it should be. My blood was still oozing slowly down my arm, and I didn't have anything to wrap it with. At least I was safe in Revenant for now. I was worried for a while I was going in the wrong direction, but then the bus stop thankfully appeared in the distance. The girl was staggering now, so I had to support most of her weight as I brought us to the bus station. Trevor wasn't there. I dropped her on the bench and sat down beside her, holding her wrist firmly in my hand. She drifted onto her side and lay on her back, her eyes closed. I shook my head. I was keeping her alive against every instinct inside me that said to kill this human and devour her brain, for the good of Revenant. I hoped it was worth it.

I waited. Trevor would come soon. I hoped. My brain was thumping. All the night's activity had intensified my hunger, and Trevor had all the brain preserves in his backpack. I hoped I could hold out until he arrived.

The human girl's brain was very, very tempting.

And I was famished.

## 16. MY PET HUMAN

Twenty minutes later Trevor still hadn't arrived. I was worried. What if he hadn't made it? What if the Stiff horde had caught him? Then he was dead. I couldn't think about that. Even if I tried to go back and find him, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, and that meant letting the human go and putting myself at risk against a bunch of blood-hungry Stiffs. It was suicide. I had to get back to zone A with the human and try to explain myself. I was going to be in so much trouble. But I didn't have a choice. I had screwed up enough for one night.

We couldn't take the bus. No one else could know about the human. We'd have to travel on foot, even if it took all night. The human was still lying with her eyes closed, breathing lightly. Her mouth hung open and her face looked out toward the night. I had to get her up and out of her despair. I jostled her with the hand that held her wrist. She stirred briefly. I shook her again, harder.

"Get up," I whispered. "Come on. We have to go. We can't stay out here all night."

She turned over in place and dropped her head onto the bench. She groaned.

"Come on," I urged again, pulling at her arm.

"Just leave me," she mumbled, her words melting together.

"I can't do that," I said sternly. "You don't have a choice. You're coming with me whether you want to or not."

She sat up and turned to face me. Her eyes were heavy and the color was drained from her face. "Bite me." She said it without a hint of malice or displeasure.

"You better be careful what you say to a zombie. I might just take you up on that," I replied with a smirk.

She glared at me. Then she lashed out with her free hand, pounding on my arm to try to force me to release her.

"Ooh. Ow. Stop. You might break it," I said in a monotone. "Okay, seriously, knock it off. You're starting to annoy me." I batted her arm away.

She began to sob as she desperately tried to pull her arm out of my grasp. "Why are you doing this to me?" she moaned.

I groaned. First aggression, now emotion. Humans would try anything to save their skin. I stood and jerked her to her feet. "Let's go. I'm tired and I want to go home."

She dropped her head dejectedly. I pulled her forward and she stumbled after me clumsily. "I'm not opposed to dragging you," I said.

She relented. I drew her along and she walked in silence behind me. She didn't try to get away. She didn't so much as make a sound. She shuffled behind me obediently. I began to think that this must be what it was like to have a pet. My own human that I walked around on a leash. She followed me for a while as I tried to make my way through zone E to zone C. I had never really gone to this part of Revenant, so the area wasn't familiar to me, but I knew you could cut across zone E to zone C and from there I knew how to make my way back to zone A. It would probably take a few hours to walk back. But I didn't have much of a choice with my human tagalong.

Zone E was bigger than I realized, and I got lost a few times. We had walked for about a half hour when I paused at a street bench to let the girl rest again. There were no Wakes around. Everything was quiet. Only the center of zone C would really have anybody out at this hour. As long as we avoided any patrollers we would be fine. I told the girl we would rest for a few minutes and then we'd have to go again. She was despondent. She ignored me completely, turning away and staring off into the darkness.

"I just want to die," she said after a few moments of silence.

"That's the difference between us," I said. "That's why zombies are taking over the world. That's why we're surviving and you're dying. We want to live more."

"No," she said without looking back at me. "You just want to die less."

I shrugged. "Semantics."

"If you're going to kill me," she said, "do it now. I'm tired. My family's dead. I'll never make it back to the others alone. And I don't even want to go back."

"I'm not going to kill you," I told her.

She turned to look at me. Her eyes were flooded. "Please don't make me become one of you. Please. I'd rather be dead. Please don't turn me into a zombie."

"You don't have what it takes to be a Wake," I responded coldly. Humans are so weak, Joe. They hold onto their useless human existence with their frail, vulnerable bodies until their last breath, while zombies live on forever. The world keeps turning and humans keep dying. That's the way it's always been. They never change. They never evolve. They deserved to die. The zombie awakening was as much a mercy genocide as it was evolution. Humans are just waiting to die. That's the way it's always been, way before zombies. We're just cutting back the wait.

She was sobbing inwardly, making little hiccuping noises as she tried to contain herself. It was pathetic. "Come on," I said. I began forward again and she allowed herself to be led resignedly, like a lamb to slaughter.

We went down the dark street. The zone was deserted. There weren't any lights anywhere. The human must have felt blind. As we progressed forward, a silhouette became visible against the moonlight. It was one of the largest buildings in Revenant. It stood on the borders of zones E and F. I had forgotten it was so near the bus station. The human froze at the sound of stifled moans and grunts. The Stiffs were out again. They always came out at night, searching for prey. They wandered the grounds mindlessly, unable to figure out how to climb the gate, the only thing confining them to their afterlife prison.

The Stockade. It even sent chills down Wakes' spines.

"What is it?" the human asked nervously.

"Hell for zombies," I said. "Come on. It's better not to let the Stiffs see us. It'll get them all riled up."

I began pulling her along, away from the building. I stopped. I heard footfalls. Something was following us. I put my finger to my pale blue lips to request silence from the girl. I could hear growling. One of the Stiffs had escaped. I let go of the human's arm to defend myself and spun around. A pair of yellow glowing eyes stared back at me. The creature attacked.

It was a full-grown german shepherd, one of the dogs that had somehow found its way into the boundaries of Revenant. It leaped at me, snapping its jaws rabidly, slobber trailing from its lips like a scarf billowing in the wind. I was caught off guard as the dog dug its teeth into my ankle. It didn't hurt, but I could feel the pressure as it bit in. I tried to shake it off, but the mutt had its jaws clenched tight against my skin.

"Dumb dog," I mumbled as I reached down to pry it away.

It instantly let go and snapped at my hands. I recoiled. I didn't want it to do any more cosmetic damage than it had already. My mentor would not be happy to foot the bill for an even bigger repair job. It snapped its jaws at me wildly, barking over and over again loudly.

"Shut up," I hissed at it. I tried to reach out and smack it away, but the dog lunged at me again. I pulled back and it continued snapping at me, its front legs extended out before it rigidly and its back arched downward. I moved my hand across the dog's eyes and it followed it with its head, snarling madly. Then I quickly reached out with my other hand and smacked the dog away. It rolled down the street, came to its feet whimpering, and quickly scampered off in the opposite direction.

I sighed with annoyance and kneeled to inspect the damage to my ankle. There were slight indents where the dog had bitten down, but it hadn't even broken the skin. It was another time I was glad to be a zombie. A human would have had his flesh pierced through. I stood and turned to face the girl. "Stupid stray dogs get in here sometimes," I said to the darkness.

The girls was gone.

I quickly scanned the area, snapping my head back and forth. The rattling metal gave her away. I sprinted toward the gate surrounding the Stockade. The girl was scurrying up it, almost at the top.

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing?" I demanded.

She didn't respond.

"Hey!" I cried. "Are you crazy? There's nothing but Stiffs in there!"

She paused at the top of the gate and glared down at me. "I'd rather take my chances with them than with you!"

"Are you insane? They'll kill you!"

"Good. I want to die," she shot back. "At the very least I don't want to go wherever you're taking me. I don't want to become whatever you want me to become. I'll take my chances with the zombies!"

Then she threw her leg over the barbed wire at the top of the gate and awkwardly pulled herself over. Somehow she managed to maneuver around the barbed wire to avoid being cut.

"Hey!" I shook the gate. "They'll kill you! Don't be stupid!"

She didn't obey. She climbed down the gate quickly. About halfway down she slipped and fell to the ground inside the compound. A couple of Stiffs reacted to the noise, lifting their heads and looking in the general direction of the girl.

"Hey!" I shook the gate again.

She stood slowly. She turned and looked back at me with empty eyes. My hands were curled around the mesh of the gate and I gazed at her with horror and fascination. The girl was committing suicide right before my eyes. It was the most absurd thing I had ever seen. Only humans were capable of willfully throwing away the only thing that mattered. They didn't deserve life. They didn't understand how precious it was. If they did, then they would understand why zombies held onto it so stubbornly, even in death.

The human turned and ran away from the gate, toward the entrance of the Stockade. The front doors were never locked. It wasn't necessary. The Stiffs were allowed to roam the grounds outside the prison as much they liked. It didn't hurt anything. They couldn't figure out how to get over the fence, and they only wandered about mindlessly. It at least allowed some of them to stay limber and avoid the onset of rigor mortis, in case their parts needed to be used for patch jobs for Wakes.

A few Stiffs gave notice as she hurried across the compound and ran through the main door. A couple of Stiffs began to follow her, moving slowly. Stiffs only moved with urgency when they were sure they had seen or smelled something. Otherwise, they kind of just followed little sounds or movements languidly.

I couldn't believe it. The human girl had just escaped into a building housing the most Stiffs gathered in one place in all the world. It was insane. She was dead.

I turned from the gate. I didn't know what to do. I should probably go back to the bus stop and return to zone A and tell my mentor in the morning what had happened. Maybe Trevor would be waiting for me.

The groaning of the Stiffs drew me back to the Stockade. I turned and watched as the Stiffs ambled around the compound. Then a Stiff rammed the gate. I jarred back with surprise. It clenched its fingers around the mesh and growled at me. Stiffs began to surround the gate all around. I gazed at my bite wound, still slowly bleeding, though not as much as before. It was dense, having only oxygen and no heartbeat to circulate it.

I couldn't go in after her, even if I wanted to. The Stiffs would devour me in a second. I couldn't avoid them in the condition I was in. I gazed ahead at the looming figure of the Stockade. The girl was lost. The Stiffs would find her and kill her and eat her brain, and there was nothing I could do about it. I stepped away from the gate. She was lost and I was tired and bleeding all over myself.

I was ready to go home.

## 17. BACK TO SQUARE 1

I made my way back to the bus stop. I no longer had any reason to try to make the long trek back to zone A on foot. Trevor wasn't there. I started feeling dejected. What if Trevor really had been killed by those Stiffs? What would I tell his mentor? What would I tell mine? Putting another Wake or yourself in jeopardy was cause for expulsion. Expulsion meant you didn't graduate. And if you didn't graduate and get your Advanced license, you weren't a fully accredited Wake. That meant you weren't Wake material, and you were sentenced to the Stockade. I'd rather be dead than to be left in that prison to rot as a Stiff. I couldn't let that happen, even if I had to lie my way out of it. I still didn't know how to explain my damaged arm, and I didn't have the energy to think about it at the moment. I just wanted to rest my exhausted brain.

My wound had stopped bleeding, but the blood was covering the sleeve of my gear down to the glove. I tried to wipe it away, but it was useless. It really made me wish that my mentor had bought me some hum tracking gear. The safety gear Trevor and I had was only designed to protect humans from breaking our skin and getting infected, and not from protecting Wakes against Stiffs.

While I waited for the bus, I changed out of my safety gear, shoving it into my backpack and returning the letter opener to my belt, just in case I needed it. I didn't look so suspicious, since all the blood from my confrontations with the Stiffs had mostly stained my suit. Only my bicep was really bloody, and I could mostly cover that with the torn sleeve of my shirt.

The bus didn't come for about twenty-five minutes. I was exhausted and my brain was screaming to be fed. I felt like I was going to die again. As the bus pulled in front of me, the breaks squealing as if in pain, I forced myself to rise, the effort excruciatingly enormous. I staggered to the bus as the doors drew open with a gasp. I pulled myself gingerly up the steps, holding my injured arm so that my hand covered my wound. The bus driver eyed me with suspicion as I shuffled past him, but didn't say anything. It was a different driver than had dropped me and Trevor off.

I made my way to the rear of the bus, sitting in the farthest seat in the back. If the driver could smell the blood on me (and I didn't see how he couldn't) he didn't say anything. Maybe he was used to picking up Wakes in all sorts of various conditions. There were plenty of fights that took place at the Hub. Maybe he thought I was just at the worst end of a typical Wake altercation.

He shut the bus doors and we drove off through the empty streets. After a few minutes we rolled down a street past the Stockade, just a block away from us. I gazed out toward it. Things seemed calm. I couldn't make out any Stiffs near the gate. They had probably returned to their veg state once I was gone and the smell of my blood had abated.

I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes, allowing myself to rest. I didn't have the energy to do anything else.

I stepped out onto the streets of A3 about an hour later. There weren't many stops and no Wakes had gotten on since we left F4. I was thankful for that. I wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize or explain myself. The bus roared away from me, leaving me standing alone at the bus stop.

I began walking down the street, back to A1. I needed some brain food in the worst way. I could barely think straight. My head ached as if my brain had been squeezed dry like an orange and left to rot in my empty bowl of a skull. I couldn't return to my mentor's. Not without getting cleaned up first. The blood from my wound had coated my upper arm, giving it a pasty red tint. I needed to get it cleaned and bandaged, and once I had rested, I could figure out what to tell my mentor in the morning. I only had one place to go.

About twenty minutes later I was dragging myself up the grassy hill that led to Trevor's mentor's farm. I couldn't wake her up and ask her for help cleaning and bandaging my wound. I was in no condition to deal with those hysterics. And I had no false hope that Trevor was somehow still undead. If he hadn't made it out of the field and back to Revenant, then he was Stiff-food. As much as I hated to believe it, my friend Trevor was dead. I had no idea what I would tell his mentor. Somehow "it wasn't my idea" didn't seem like it would do me any favors.

I came toward the driveway leading to Mrs. Kushner's farmhouse. I couldn't think anymore. I just had to get my wound cleaned, dressed, and get home and deal with everything in the morning.

Something reached out and grabbed my shoulder from behind. I gasped and spun around, breaking away and getting ready to attack whatever had lashed out at me in the darkness.

"Hey, chill, man, it's me," a voice whispered harshly.

I narrowed my eyes at the figure. Trevor. He wasn't dead. The Stiffs hadn't gotten him.

"For the love of brains," I muttered. "I thought you were a Stiff!"

"What the hell happened to you?" Trevor asked, gawking at my sleeve, soaked with dark blood and clinging to my arm.

"I had a bad night," I replied. "What about you? I thought you were dead!"

"So did I. You weren't there when the bus came. I thought the Stiffs had gotten you. Most of them had taken off in your direction. I wanted to go after you, but I thought if you hadn't made it out, you were probably already Stiff bait."

"Don't worry. I thought the same thing about you."

"Did the Stiffs get you?"

"It's a long story. I need to get cleaned up. And I need some skull candy in the worst way. Help me."

Trevor nodded. I moved toward the farmhouse. He grabbed my wrist. "Not in there. We might wake up my mentor. The barn."

I nodded wearily and Trevor led me back to the barn. We went to the rear, near the humans' stalls and I sat on a wooden stool that rested in the corner. Trevor had a little bit of medical training since looking after humans required you to tend to their health.

"You really screwed yourself up, Zell. It's gonna cost your mentor a good amount of creds to get you patched up."

"If I don't end up in the Stockade," I rejoined.

"Let me see your arm."

I extended my left arm to him and he peeled back the blood-dried sleeve to look at the wound.

"That Stiff really dug in. They're gonna have to suture it. You're gonna have to go with the Frankenstein look for this arm."

Since zombies' skin cells no longer grew, any damage done was permanent and could not heal. I would have to get the wound stitched and leave it that way. It was a pretty badass look, but also kind of annoying.

"Can we at least wrap it?" I asked.

Trevor nodded. "I'll get some gauze. Sit tight."

I leaned forward on the stool, resting my elbows on my legs. I felt horrible. Somehow knowing Trevor had survived without a scratch made me feel worse. I was the only Wake stupid enough to get himself this messed up on a routine human tracking drill. Still, I was the only one who had actually seen a human. Not even the Advanced kids had done that. Of course, I was also the only one who let a human trick him into almost getting killed by a horde of Stiffs and then proceeded to let her escape. It was better if I focused on the success of finding a stray human.

"You look dead," a raspy voice said.

I gazed up toward the humans' stall. The woman, her blanket wrapped around her and falling over her shoulders, stood with her face pressed against the bars. The man was sleeping in a corner of their cell behind her, snoring under her words. She was looking down at me, her eyes fixed and her face stone. I looked away from her. I wasn't supposed to talk to the humans. That was the first rule of human breeding, and Mrs. Kushner had drilled it into my head a thousand times. At the moment, though, I didn't care. "I am dead."

I didn't know why I chose to respond, to have a conversation with the confined human. My mind was empty, and all I could think of was the girl, and how she had thrown herself into a building full of Stiffs to get away from me. Just as the woman refused to eat, both humans were committing willful suicide before me. Maybe I was just trying to understand how they could so easily devalue life.

"It's karma," she said. "You monsters are going to get your comeuppance."

I chortled in my throat. "I don't believe in that."

"I'm sure not. If I was a bloodthirsty monster I wouldn't either. How else could I live with myself?"

"We aren't monsters," I said. "Not any more than you are."

She scoffed loudly. "You're abominations. God's wrath. You're the punishment we endure for our sins. You're the revelation. The death of all that is and ever was."

I shook my head wearily. "You and Mrs. Kushner would have a hell of a debate. But you're barking up the wrong tree, lady. We're better than you. That's why we're taking over the world. We're the top of the food chain. It just happens to be that you're our food source. It's nothing personal. Just nature. That's why it's called natural selection."

"You know so much about the ideas that we invented," she said with a scowl. "But you have no idea what you really are."

"We're not really that different from you. We're just a little deader. I used to be you once. Now I'm better. Stronger. Immortal. If I did believe in God – which I don't – I would say that he was on our side. He improved humans, took away their weaknesses and the fear of death. Humans are the predecessors to the new race. You're just the monkeys that weren't clever enough to figure out how to build a fire."

"God help us if you're the future of this world," she said evenly.

"I wouldn't count on it," I retorted.

She dipped her head to the side and sighed. "What are you going to do with us?"

I looked up at her. I could see her naked body under the blanket. She was bone-thin and pasty, a walking skeleton. She was not very appetizing. "They're probably going to use you for fodder."

"What?" she uttered with shock. "What does that mean?"

"We'll eat you," I said simply.

Her eyes went wide and her skin blanched to match the color of her eyeballs. "Then why torture me like this? Why lock me away? For fun?"

I laughed. "No. They wanted you to breed."

"Breed?" she gasped, aghast.

"Yes," I said. "If you had bred with the man, we would have kept you alive for years. Humans are a valuable commodity nowadays. We need to get as many as we can by whatever means we can."

"That's horrible!"

"That's life. It's the way it is. Anyway, you've given up. Stopped eating. That means you have no will to live, right?"

She shook her head imperceptibly. "I don't know. I don't know. I was just tired of letting you monsters kick me around. I wanted out. I didn't know you were trying to get me to ... This is sick!"

"It doesn't matter," I said, closing my eyes and putting my hand to my temple to massage my throbbing head. "You aren't cooperating, so you're better as a food source than you are for breeding. Sorry. That's just the way it is. If you hadn't been so stubborn, you could have lived for years."

"In this cell."

"It's not so bad. It's a roof over your head, food, water. Plenty of hums are worse off."

"Being forced to have sex against my will and bring a child into this world only to have it taken from me and used to feed you creatures?" she added incredulously.

"Yeah. It could be worse."

"How?" she demanded.

"You could be dead."

"I'd rather be."

"Not if you knew what death was like."

"And you do?"

"Yes," I said.

"I mean real death. Not whatever the hell you things are."

"So do I. I was dead once. I was killed. And I became a Stiff. I was really dead then. No thought. No reason."

"You remember being –"

"No. I don't. That's what death is. It's nothing. Emptiness. Your mind is empty. You're nothing. Just a shell. If you had any idea what death really is, you'd be grateful for the chance we're offering you to live."

The human rolled her eyes. "Thank you so much for taking away my dignity and my life and treating me like cattle."

"It's better than the alternative."

She scrunched her face. "If I don't eat. If I don't go along with you and do what you say. You're going to eat me?"

"Your brain," I said. "The other stuff isn't important. It doesn't keep us going. The Stiffs only eat it because they don't know the difference. They smell blood, feel flesh and muscle and organs, and it seems like a brain. It's just instinct. We know better than to fill our stomachs unnecessarily. But we'll use the rest of you the best we can. Your organs probably for Stiff bait for the trackers, your bones for weapons. Stuff like that."

"That's terrible."

I shrugged. "Not really. You only think so because it's your hide that's being skinned."

"But I'm intelligent! I'm human! How can you – I'm a living, thinking being."

"It's not personal," I repeated. "It's just the way it is. You used to do the same thing to cows and chickens and pigs. And they had brains just like you do. So don't try to get all preachy on me. You needed to eat them to survive and you didn't make any bones about it. Well, we need you. And that's just the way it is."

The woman dropped her head against a bar of the cell. She was sobbing. "I don't want to die," she mumbled.

"None of us do," I replied. It was a tricky business, this living. In a perfect world, everyone would live without having to kill anyone else. But that wasn't the way the world worked. And if God existed – and he didn't – then he had made it that way, and he had intended for us to kill each other in order to survive. And that being the case, what kind of God was he? It was sick. It's a sick world. And God had made it that way. What a bastard. It was better – and might I add more logical – to believe that a sick, twisted prick like that didn't exist. The world was too screwed up for Gods and saviors.

The woman turned her eyes up toward me. "I think I'm ready to eat now."

I looked up. My face was stretched long and my eyes were spread open, unblinking. I shook away my surprise and nodded my head slowly. She didn't want to die. That meant living as long as you could, under whatever circumstances you had to. It made sense. It always had to me. It was the first lesson they taught you in zombie school – the importance of survival over everything else. I was just surprised she had realized it. Maybe there was hope for humans after all.

I stood and went to the front of the barn. I picked up the empty bowl I had left there earlier that evening and filled it with the human feed. I carried it back to the stall.

"Stand back," I said.

The woman shook her head. "Please," she moaned. "I'm so tired. And hungry."

I sighed. Keeping my eyes pinned to her face, I slowly pushed my arm through the slats of the cage and dropped the bowl onto the tabletop. I pulled away quickly and the woman drew her blanket with one hand around her form as if suddenly embarrassed.

"Don't worry," I said sardonically, "you aren't my type. I like a girl with a little more meat on her bones."

She shot me an icy glare.

"Go on," I said. "If you want to eat, eat."

She shuffled her hands inside the blanket. Then, holding the blanket closed with one hand, she reached out to the bowl and scooped out a handful of feed. She began nibbling it from her hand slowly. I sat back on my stool and watched her carefully as she slowly ate the cold stew out of the bowl. Maybe I was a better breeder than a tracker after all. Hopefully my success with the woman would earn me some grace tomorrow when I offered some sort of excuse for what had happened to my arm.

Trevor returned a few minutes later, carrying a roll of gauze and a pail of water. "This is all I have," he said as he came to me.

With a washcloth he drew from inside the pail he cleaned my wound and my arm, which was caked with thick, dried blood. Then he wrapped my arm. At least it would help absorb any blood that did ooze out until I got it patched.

"Your mentor is gonna flip," he said as he finished securing the bandage.

"I know," I sighed.

"This was just all the Stiffs? How'd you even get out of the horde if you were bit? You know what they say. Once bitten ..."

"Twice died. I know. It's a long story. I'll tell you everything in the morning."

He nodded. He reached into his pocket and drew out a piece of brain. "This should tide you over until then."

I gladly slurped it down. My brain felt calmer already, like it had laid down to rest after having done jumping jacks all night. "Thanks," I said.

"Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I'll take the floor."

He began leading me back to the farmhouse, and I paused and gazed back at the woman as she silently ate from the bowl I had given her. I frowned, thinking of the girl and how she had been willing to sacrifice her life rather than become a zombie, like me. Humans can be so dumb. They don't even realize that living isn't about whether your heart beats or your cells still multiply. It's all in the mind. If they could see that, then they would realize becoming a Wake is the best thing that could ever happen to you. They had no idea what it meant to be alive.

I turned and followed Trevor out of the barn.

I guess it's true. You don't know what you've got until its gone. No wonder life meant so much to zombies.

## 18. CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS

"Get up," a voice whispered at me. I turned over in bed. I felt totally incapable of drawing myself out of bed even if I wanted to, which I didn't. If I could, I would have stayed in bed all day, hiding my troubles under the covers with me. Actually, that sounded like a good idea. I pulled the blanket up over my head.

Someone shook me. Over and over, until I had no choice but to peer out from my bastion of blankets and confront the assailant. "What?" I asked drearily as I opened one eye to gaze upward. Trevor was standing over me, shaking me, a terrified look on his face.

"Something happened," he said.

"What?" I asked again, indifferently.

"Come on," he said.

"Why?"

"Stop asking questions," he snapped.

"What time is it?"

"Get up!" he asserted. "Hurry!"

I slowly pulled myself out of bed. My energy was drained. My brain still felt like mush. And my arm was still stiff and difficult to move. The problem with being dead is that your body isn't all that cooperative. It doesn't repair itself. It doesn't get better. I wouldn't feel halfway decent until I got to see a tailor – if my mentor was willing to spend the credits to get me fixed up.

I needed some brains. There had been so much going on last night. My brain had been firing on all cylinders. The more you used it, the more brains you needed to eat to recharge it. My mind felt dull and empty and it was hard to concentrate. I wanted to tell Trevor that I needed another snack first, but he seemed really impatient. He was standing by his bedroom door, looking out, then glancing back in at me every few moments as if to hurry me up.

I threw my legs over the bedside and pushed myself up unsteadily. "What's going on?" I spoke hoarsely.

"Didn't I tell you to stop asking questions?" he demanded.

"Okay, jeez. What's got your cadaver in such a rot?"

"We've got a problem," he said. "Let's go."

He flew out of the bedroom and I stumbled listlessly after him. I examined the bandage on my arm as I went down the hall. It was caked in dried blood, but it wasn't that much. The wound was pretty deep, but it shouldn't cause any mobility issues once it was repaired. The damage was mostly cosmetic. At least I could be thankful for that.

Trevor bounded downstairs and I took ginger steps behind him. The least he could do is wait for me after the horrible night I had because of his Stiff-brained idea to go human tracking.

I came to the bottom of the stairway as Trevor opened the front door and gestured me forward with a few quick bounces of his hand. He vanished through the doorway as I made my way across the floor and out the door. Trevor was rushing across the field toward the barn. The sky was still dark. The sun hadn't peeked over the horizon yet. It felt like I hadn't slept for even a minute. I dragged myself after him, trying to will myself to move quickly, and caught up to him after he had thrown open the barn doors and entered. He was standing at the back of the barn near the humans' stall. His hands were on top of his head, fingers strung through his curly hair. His eyes were closed and he was shaking his dipped head.

I didn't understand. "What's wrong?" I asked as I shuffled down the hall of the barn toward him.

Snarls and growls answered me. It was coming from inside the humans' stall. I cocked up one eyebrow curiously as I came nearer to Trevor. I stepped around him and peered into the stall.

A thin, white, naked figure crouched over a flesh-torn body, peeling off bloody pieces of muscle and meat and shoving it into its mouth ravenously. I shook my head, confounded.

"What happened?" I cried, my voice getting high and shrieky.

"How the hell should I know?" Trevor bellowed. "I thought you would know!"

"Me? Why?"

"You were the only one with them last night," Trevor returned. "You fed them before we left to go human tracking!"

I shook my head again, numbly. It didn't make sense. How did the woman become a Stiff? She wasn't even infected. And how could she be dead? She was just alive last night. I had just talked to her. Just convinced her to live.

"I don't know," I offered meagerly. "How could she have died? She just ate last night!"

Trevor glared at me suspiciously. "I thought you told my mentor she wasn't eating. I got hell for that last night, you know."

I put my hand up. "Right, she wasn't. I mean last night, after I got back, when you went to get the bandages."

"You spoke to the human?"

My head bobbed up and down, like a buoy on a gentle ocean's current. "I told her," I said. "I told her she was probably going to be used for fodder if she didn't eat."

"Are you out of your mind?" Trevor demanded. "You know we aren't supposed to talk to humans! Even professional breeders don't unless they have to! You can't just start chatting with them like it's high tea!"

"I know," I sighed with exasperation. "I wasn't thinking. My head was messed up last night. Still is. I don't know. I wasn't thinking."

Trevor tossed my justification aside with a flip of his hand. "You know better," he snarled.

"It doesn't matter! That doesn't explain why she's dead now! Or a Stiff!"

"What else happened?" Trevor asked, his eyes blades that were cutting directly into me.

I rolled my eyes up and let my mouth hang open. "I convinced her to eat. She didn't want to die. Even if she was going to be bred. I made her understand that it was better to live under any circumstances than to be dead."

"She ate?"

I nodded. "I fed her. I gave her a bowl of feed. I watched her eat it. I made sure."

"What else?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "That's it, I swear!"

"Well, something happened! For the love of brains, I'm gonna be in so much trouble! Two humans down the drain and we can't even salvage their brains for rations! I have to tell my mentor."

Trevor charged out of the barn. I stayed. I didn't think I had the energy to go after him anyway, and my feet didn't seem to want to obey my brain. I gazed into the humans' stall. The woman, now a mindless Stiff, continued to greedily feed her face, peeling away the man's flesh. He was dead. His face was gone, only shredded pieces of skin and blood left matted over his caved-in skull. His upper body was only a skeleton with loose pieces of flesh and muscle hanging off it, and the zombified woman was working on his lower half, pulling him apart and devouring his muscles and the organs within. Her bony face was red, smeared with the man's blood, and the redness covered her entire upper-half, shoulders, arms, breasts, and stomach, so that from the top up she looked like she had laid in the sun for so long that her skin had been burned beyond recognition.

Trevor's mentor entered a few minutes later. She was flabbergasted. Then she was furious. She gave Trevor the business, and he had no means to defend himself. I had no answers for her either. She somewhat recorded my bandaged arm, but she seemed too overwhelmed by the loss of the humans she had been entrusted with to care for to really be concerned about me. She stomped off to deliver the message to my mentor that a Stiff needed to be wrangled. It was the perfect capper to everything. My mentor, with his vigilant eye, would interrogate me about everything, from the freshly awakened Stiff to my damaged arm, and in my state, I didn't have the wherewithal to defend myself.

I was Stiff-bait.

It was a few hours before my mentor arrived. Sending messages through Revenant was not easy. We didn't have any working telephones. We only had couriers. The good thing was that there was at least one on every block, and a lot of them had apprentices to handle the simple message delivering. One of the kids from school probably got to carry the message to my mentor that he was wanted at the Kushner farm. He would have just gotten in from his night of tracking to find that I was not there. I wasn't sure what he would do. He could easily have me expelled on his suspicions alone. I really didn't know how much my mentor liked me, or how much he thought I was worth sticking his neck out for. Probably not much.

I stayed in the barn with Trevor, keeping an eye on the Stiff and the body of the man. I sat down on the stool again to rest and Trevor paced up and down the barn's hallway nervously. My mentor entered. He was dressed in his tracking gear and held a handled snare like the Advanced kids had been using last night. He marched down the barn toward us. He looked at Trevor, then he eyed me up and down. He didn't say a word. He turned and looked into the stall.

"What a mess," he murmured. He turned and looked to Trevor. "Open the cage."

Trevor didn't hesitate. He went straight toward the stall and unlocked the cage, pulling the door open for my mentor.

"Stay back," my mentor instructed, and he slipped inside the stall.

It only took a few moments. The Stiff didn't even look up from the body it was devouring. My mentor quietly and effortlessly slipped the loop around its neck and tightened it. He paused to crouch and pick something off the floor before he left, and just like that, he forced the Stiff to its feet and drew it out of the stall. Despite its efforts, it could not break free. It clung to the bars of the cage for a few moments, but my mentor drew out a baton belted to his side and cracked its fingers, forcing it to let go.

He held the Stiff before us for a few minutes as he analyzed it. It was weird seeing the woman as a Stiff now, when just last night she was a living, breathing, intelligent human. Her face hadn't changed. Even her body was pretty much the same, gaunt and pale. Her stomach was a little rounder, probably because she had stuffed herself full of the man's flesh and innards all night. It was a punch in the jaw, gazing at this naked, gangly creature drenched in blood and clawing with broken fingers in my and Trevor's direction, desperate, and with only one intention: to feed. She was nothing like she was before. Becoming a Stiff was just as good as dying. I had always thought it was so cruel to leave these things undead. If we didn't decide to educate them, then it was better to put them out of their misery. Most likely, though, she would be transported to the Stockade. I kind of felt bad. I had condemned her to a fate worse than death, and I didn't even know how.

"She killed herself," my mentor stated evenly.

Trevor gazed uncertainly at him. "How do you know?"

"Look at her wrists," my mentor said.

Trevor and I looked as her arms flailed. We could now see what my mentor had. There were gashes in her wrists. She had slit them during the night.

"How?" Trevor demanded. "There's nothing in the stall she could cut herself with. We make sure there isn't!"

My mentor extended his other hand toward us. It was holding a knife. A pretty dull, harmless knife, but if one was determined, they could cut through skin and veins after a few minutes with it. The knife was covered in blood. In fact, it looked more like a letter opener than a knife.

My eyes bulged. I felt around the belt of my pants. It was gone. Shit. The human had stolen it off me. She had seen it on me and had wanted me to get close enough so she could grab it. And use it to commit suicide.

I dropped my head. Tricked by two humans in one night. I was an idiot. I deserved to go to the Stockade. All my schooling, and I was still as dumb as a Stiff.

"She got a hold of this," my mentor said.

"Where did she get that?" Trevor cried.

I sighed. There was no lie I could invent that could save me. Even if I pleaded ignorance (and believe me, my mentor wouldn't buy it for a second) all of the blame would fall on Trevor, who had been responsible for feeding the humans last night. I wasn't about to let my best friend take the fall for my actions. Time to confess. "She must have stolen it from me."

My mentor stared at me. His face was blank, conveying no emotion or sign of disapproval. It was scary. "How?"

I told him. I told him how I had talked to her, and fed her, and how she must have stolen it from me when I wasn't paying attention.

"And where did you get the knife from, Zellner?" my mentor asked.

"Well," I started, my brain rummaging for an answer. "I found it. By the roadside. I was going to keep it."

My mentor stared at me ominously, his eye scanning my face. He didn't blink. I swallowed my apprehension like a rock down my throat. "The truth, Zellner," he instructed. "Have enough respect for this situation and myself to offer that. I won't ask again."

I sighed again. Whatever lies I had concocted before I fell asleep last night clattered to the floor by my ankles, undisclosed. None of them explained the knife, and even if I had a lie on hand that did, my mentor would see right through it with his penetrating eye. The truth was the only weapon I had left to defend myself with. I told him everything. How I had gone human tracking on my own. How I had been chased by Stiffs. How I had met the human, and tried to bring her into Revenant. How she had tried to escape by getting the Stiffs to attack me. How I had barely made it back in one piece. I left Trevor out of it. There was no sense in condemning us both, and all the major transgressions I had committed on my own. My mentor's expression never changed. It remained stone, cold, unrevealing. It was like staring into a deep, black well. There was nothing there. It was hollow and empty.

"What happened to the human?" he asked calmly.

I swallowed. I couldn't tell him that she had escaped into Revenant. That the last time I saw her she was still alive. That would mean sending a party into the Stockade after her. That would mean telling everybody what I had done. That would mean expulsion. "She's dead," I said.

"The Stiffs killed her?" Trevor asked suddenly.

I nodded eagerly. It was probably true. And probably true was enough to convince my mentor. A half-truth was harder for him to spot than a non-truth.

My mentor shook his head solemnly. "You infected her," he said quietly. "The blood from the knife. It introduced the virus into her blood stream. She must have bled out slowly, and we know how quickly the infection spreads. I'm not surprised. It must have taken her a while to cut through with this dull blade." He gazed carefully at the rusty knife and shook his head.

I gazed at the knife blankly. He was right. The blood that was on the knife had infected her. She had stolen it off me when I had gotten close to feed her and she had used it to kill herself to escape this world, unaware that doing so would turn her into a Stiff. Then she had eaten the only other human we had in zone A and devoured his brain, the only resource that Wakes truly considered of value.

I swore under my breath as I took in all of the crimes I had committed last night: illegal human tracking, letting a human into Revenant boundaries, infecting a human, being responsible for the loss of two stocks of human and rendering their brains unusable. Any one of those crimes could lead to expulsion. Together, I didn't see any way I could avoid being sent to the Stockade.

I waited for my mentor to drop the hammer.

"I am very disappointed in you, Zellner," he spoke gravely. "Very disappointed."

Then he turned and led the Stiff out of the barn.

## 19. ZOMBIE PROBATION

Life in Revenant was not kind to me during the following week. My mentor placed me on voluntary probation. Voluntary because he feared that if he reported my transgressions to the council that Mayor Hillard would have me expelled. Zombie crimes were being met with harsher punishments these days, and Wakes had been banished from town or condemned to the Stockade for lesser crimes over the last few months. Basically, if I broke my probation, my mentor would report everything that had happened. For the rest of the school year I was expected to go to school, come home directly afterwards, and stay in studying the rest of the evening. I wasn't to go out into town, not to zone C or anywhere in zone A, and I wasn't even allowed to visit Trevor and his mentor. His mentor, learning that I had been responsible for the loss of the two humans, had all but banned me from the Kushner farm anyway. She had been forced to report the human deaths, but my mentor at least convinced her to cover up my involvement, blaming it on poor health and an illness that hadn't been detected previously that had weakened and killed them both. My mentor took care of the woman, transferring her to the Stockade and salvaging the man's remains for Stiff bait, claiming to Mayor Hillard's administration that the bodies had been too diseased to have any better use.

My mentor had been strict before. Now he was a tyrant. I was expected to check in with him whenever I changed rooms in the house, reporting my reasons. I couldn't even sneak a morsel of brain from the kitchen without him jumping on me. It was unbearable. I felt like a prisoner. But I didn't have a choice. My fate was in his hands, and if I wanted to continue my living death, I had to do as he said. I did my best to be a good zombie, and even though I was bored out of my mind, studying and having nothing but homework to entertain me, I kept myself locked up in the house.

Luckily, my mentor was merciful enough to spend the credits to have me fixed up by a tailor. The story was that I, eager to begin human tracking, had followed my mentor one night and had been attacked by a Stiff. My mentor had saved me, but not before some decent damage had been inflicted. It was still a crime, but at least it happened in my zone, where my mentor had lawful jurisdiction. He convinced the tailor to keep the information under his hat, with the understanding that zombie boys will be zombie boys, and that I had learned my lesson.

The wound on my arm had been sutured with thick metal clamps, two lines going down parallel to each other on my left bicep. Regular stitches were not strong enough to hold the dense skin together. Wearing a short-sleeve shirt covered it up pretty well, and after it had been mended it didn't really bother me much once I got used to it. Most of the flesh hadn't been lost, so it closed pretty well. It was more an aesthetic injury than anything else, and honestly it did look pretty cool.

My mentor spent every evening before he went tracking instilling the responsibility of human tracking in me. He went over every rule, explaining why it was so important to never track alone, and especially without any experience. Anytime I attempted to speak back or defend myself he would raise his hand showing three fingers. Three. The number of humans I had lost that night by not following the rules of human tracking. The number of humans I was directly responsible for losing. "Learn, don't instruct," he would say then. And I would shut my mouth and let him continue.

Sometimes I wondered why my mentor had gone out of his way to protect me, why he hadn't reported me and had me thrown in the Stockade with the Stiffs. Sometimes I think he wondered the same thing. Another Stiff would be brought in to take my place eventually, and it seemed to me like he had always thought I was not the best apprentice. This had been his chance to start over. But he had protected me. Whatever bad blood there was between us, even for him treating me like a slave because of it, I had to be grateful to him for that. Whatever his reasoning was. And believe me, Joe, I had no idea what it was.

School was pretty much the same. I tried to stay low and not bring much attention to myself. I didn't need Mr. Melbourne sending another message to my mentor on top of everything else. Plus, I didn't want anyone to see that I had been patched. I didn't want to have to try to explain that to anyone. I wasn't the best of liars.

"You still confined to hard labor?" Trevor asked me that Friday after school had ended. All week I had blown him off, telling him I was grounded until further notice. I told him to head to zone C alone and find something to do, but he didn't think he would have much fun by himself.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I can't go anywhere, Trev."

"Can't you sneak out?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not going to."

"You've turned into a real drag since that night," Trevor replied.

"I screwed up. Bad. I could be dead right now. Or worse, a Stiff. If I screw up again, I will be. I just have to wait this out."

"Come on, man, your mentor's not gonna report you. He may be tough, but he's not like that. Besides, a night at the Hub is harmless."

"Maybe, but I can't risk it. Why don't you find someone else to go with you?"

He knocked absently on the locker he was leaning against. "Nah, I don't want to hang out with those oafs anyway. Maybe you can come to my place for a while."

"Your mentor won't even let me step foot on the farm. Not after I cost our community the only human stock we had. I'm still sorry about that by the way."

He shrugged. "It's my fault for having you do my work for me anyway. My mentor has been hounding me since then, making me show her the procedures step by step every day. Thanks for not telling her it was my idea to go tracking that night, or that I was there."

"No reason both of us should get into trouble," I said passively.

"Anyway, you got a wicked cool scar to show for it. Let me see it again."

I gave him an annoyed look. Then I parted my pale lips and grinned wickedly. I turned my left side to him and slid up my sleeve. The pale blue skin was cinched together by metal clamps, a little bruised, and the skin was rough and fractured around the edges. It was too cool.

"Thriller," Trevor said, running his finger along the ridges of the sutures.

I folded my sleeve back over it. "Relax. I don't want anyone to know."

"Man, I'd be showing it off to everyone."

"I don't want to have to try to explain."

He nodded with understanding. "So I guess you're gonna be in social purgatory for a while."

"Looks like it. It could be worse."

"How?"

"I could be in zombie purgatory," I replied.

I went straight home after school. I rode the bus with Trevor until we reached our stop in square 1 and then walked the rest of the way home after seeing him to the farm. My mentor had forbidden me from riding my skateboard, and riding the bus was faster than walking.

My mentor checked his pocket watch as I shuffled past the living room. He was always checking it when I came home, making sure I wasn't late, making sure I knew he was paying attention and keeping an eye on me. It was getting annoying, but I guess I had earned it.

"Zellner," I heard him call after me.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm going straight upstairs to do my homework."

"I want to talk to you," his voice returned.

I cringed. The last thing I wanted was a conversation with my mentor. He hadn't said much to me beyond lectures on proper human tracking protocol after he told me that he was going to have me patched, and that he would do his best to protect me from expulsion. I was smart enough to stay quiet and behave. After all the ways I had screwed up, the less I heard from my mentor, the better.

I stepped into the living room. "Yes, sir?"

"Have a seat, Zellner."

I swallowed. I sat in the seat across from him, the coffee table separating us. My mentor removed his glasses, folding in the temples and sliding them in his front pocket. His eyes were closed and his head was lowered in reflection. I squirmed in my seat. I couldn't handle the anticipation. If he was going to have me locked away in the Stockade, then I'd want him to just tell me and get it over with.

He opened his eyes, his good eye gazing fixedly at me, and the blank depth opposite it somehow gazing even more relentlessly.

"Zellner," he began. "I've been thinking about this for a while. And I wanted to ask you first. Do you want to be a human tracker?"

The question caught me off guard. I blinked repeatedly, trying to elicit an answer, but finding myself unable to do so.

My mentor leaned forward. "What I mean is, are you prepared to do the hard work and do you have the discipline to be a human tracker? Not to go out and break the rules by going to another zone where maybe there is more activity, but you don't have jurisdiction in, and look for trouble. That's not what a human tracker is."

"I know," I replied.

"You don't seem to know. After everything I've taught you and tried to instill in you, you do something like this. What you've done is cause for expulsion, Zellner."

"I know."

"If I chose to report this, you would be exiled from Revenant, sentenced to the Stockade."

"I know."

"Is that all you have to say, Zellner?"

"I don't know what else to say."

My mentor sighed. "You still don't understand, Zellner."

"Understand what?"

"That there are consequences for your actions. That these things are serious. It worries me, Zellner. There are certain rules and laws in place for a reason. Because before they were in place it led to bedlam, and almost destroyed this town. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I said sheepishly.

"But you don't really understand it. In theory, yes, but not in practice. No, not in practice. That's pretty obvious," he mumbled to himself. He looked up at me. "Mayor Hillard is having a demonstration tomorrow. You've never seen one of the mayor's demonstrations, have you?"

I shook my head. I had heard about them, but I was usually in school, or had better things to do, like hanging out with Trevor. I wasn't that interested in listening to one of the zombie man's longwinded speeches.

"I think we should attend, you and I," my mentor said. "I think it would be a good experience for you."

I shrugged mildly.

"Tomorrow," he said simply. "I think it will be enlightening."

It wasn't an invitation I could deny. I waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. "Sir?" He gazed up at me. "Why didn't you report me? To the council and Mayor Hillard?"

He twisted the face to one side in contemplation. "Because I haven't given up on you. Not yet. There's something there. It's up to you to cultivate it. I can only do my best to put you in the right direction. Even though you broke the rules, there was no malice, no attempt to usurp or destroy. You just have to realize that there are consequences to breaking these rules. Tomorrow."

I nodded numbly.

"Go on upstairs and study, Zellner."

I hesitated, wanting to say something more.

"Zellner," he said sternly. "That was not a request."

I sighed with frustration. I stood and sulked out of the room.

Zombie probation sucked.

## 20. THE ZOMBIE MAN

My mentor woke me after dawn, shortly after he had returned from his human tracking expedition. I wasn't accustomed to waking up early on weekends, and I stirred myself to consciousness languidly and sullenly. The mayor's demonstration would be that morning, at the town square in zone C. I dressed slowly and met my mentor in the living room, after feeding on my morning brain morsel. I felt a little more alert afterward, and my mentor quickly hustled me off toward the bus station. We rode the bus silently, my mentor sitting rigid and reading from his weekly copy of the Zombie Times. The bus arrived in zone C and he hurried me off toward the town square.

It looked different during the day. It was mild and austere, and the buildings weren't nearly as inviting without the soft electric glow sheltering them at night. The buildings' facades faded into the background of the white sky, making them ordinary and dull looking. At night zone C smelled of freshly fried meat and electricity and vigorous death. This morning it smelled only like rotting flesh.

The zone's streets and sidewalks were a bustle of activity, Wakes streaming up and down them, attired in suit, ties and other business wear. All business was conducted here, since it was the only zone with power, and the government offices were at the far end of the zone. Zone C was the central area of Revenant, surrounded on all sides by the seven other zones that had been sectioned off after the town was founded. Each zone had a community leader who reported back to the mayor and was responsible for maintaining the peace, safety, and production of the area.

We arrived at the town square as they were finishing setting up the stage. To the right of the stage was a large crate that looked almost like a garage, with a big door that flipped open, and at the front of the stage was a podium and microphone, with two speakers set up at each edge. Wakes had already begun to assemble before the stage, and my mentor pulled me through the throng to try to get me closer to the front. I didn't know much about the mayor's demonstrations and I had never really bothered to learn. Politics were boring, and as far as I was concerned, had little consequence on a teenage zombie like me.

There were several minutes of aimless chatter and milling around before a woman who looked like she had lived a relatively short life before she had been zombified approached the podium. Her straight blonde hair ran behind her shoulders and gave life to her otherwise gray countenance. She tapped on the microphone, eliciting a pierce of feedback through the speakers. The young zombie woman cleared her throat and spoke clearly into the microphone. "Thank you ladies and gentlezombies for coming out today. Mayor Hillard will be here shortly to present today's demonstration. In the meantime, I'll recap some of the town affairs. Human acquisitions are down again this week. It's a troubling trend, one we acknowledge. We are working with our lead human trackers to remedy the situation as best we can. Until then we will have to continue to lean more heavily on our rations, of which we assure you there are plenty of. On a more positive note, the human breeding programs are flourishing. Zone F in particular has had an upswing, with as many as five new births this month and counting. That is a new record, by the way. Other zones should take note, especially A and H. That takes care of business." She glanced behind her, placing her hand over the microphone. She turned back at the crowd with a grin. "As punctual as ever. Ladies and gentlezombies, without further ado, may I present Mayor Hillard."

The mayor ambled up the rear steps of the stage, making his appearance to a respectful round of applause. His face appeared as it did in the posters I had seen plastered on the walls of buildings near the Hub or the mall, or occasionally when I glimpsed the weekly edition of the Zombie Times, which was always concluded with a brief article written by the mayor himself containing his weekly thoughts. He was much lankier than I had thought, though, tall and skeletal. He wore a brown suit, jacket unbuttoned with a vest, black tie, and suspenders underneath, a red flower pinned to his lapel. His skin was white and his head was bald. The mayor's only noticeable disfigurement was the flesh that had been torn from his lips, revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth at all times. He always appeared to be smiling, and even more so when he turned the edges of his mouth upward. I think that's one of the things that made him so trustworthy and likeable.

He approached the podium as the woman stepped away. He raised his hands for silence, and as the applause died, he began speaking. "I'd like to offer my appreciation to each and every Wake who came out here today," he boomed, his voice jovial and pleasant. "These aren't the best of times to be living dead, I admit that. But we have to remember that we are the pioneers. We are building something. And the wonderful thing about being dead is that there is no end. One day we will be able to reap what we have sown in these days. It is only a matter of time. And you have to admit, it's a hell of a lot better than being out there!" He pointed behind him, at the unknown world that was beyond the gates of Revenant. A scattering of cheers responded. "We've been graced with a second chance at life. Call it God, or a miracle, or science, whatever you like. We are dead, and yet we are still alive. And we can think. That's the greatest gift of all. Because without that, we'd be just like the Stiffs. We'd be nothing. How grateful I am to be a Wake. It's not a gift I take lightly. And it's not one I plan to forfeit.

"In order to survive, we must work together and do what is in the best interest of the community. Living death has a price. We have all been brought to this town and educated to serve a purpose, to pay a price. If any of us fails in that, the town suffers. If the town suffers, we all suffer. If the town dies, we die. We all have been brought here to make a contribution to help our people prosper and survive. I am here to remind you of the importance of that contribution, and what it means to forsake it. I know you need not be reminded of what's at stake. Your existence, my existence, depends on you making your contribution faithfully and sufficiently. One misguided Wake can turn this town to shambles. Such dissension will not be tolerated."

He paused momentarily to scan the crowd, allowing his words to sink in. Then he continued:

"I know many of you read in last week's Times about the human sympathizers who were arrested last week. Attempting to free a captive human, claiming unethical treatment. Unethical! I tell you what's unethical. Putting the zombies of my town at risk. The only thing that keeps us undead is the brain tissue of living human beings. Now that's a fact. And if you have any opposition to that, maybe zombie life just isn't cut out for you. And if that's the case, there's the door. We offer you safety within our town's gates, but you aren't prisoners. You can leave at any time, and see how far human sympathies take you out there, among the Stiffs. If you believe that eating human brains is unethical, this isn't the place for you. You're not meant to be among the living dead. Just the dead.

"Your actions have repercussions. You have to understand that. You can choose living death or death. Your actions choose for you. We each have a price to pay, a consequence and a debt for living death. If you fail in that, you forfeit that right. We brought you into this life, educated you, gave you intelligence. And if we must, we can choose to take it away. That is the law of this town. Dissenters will not be tolerated. There is no place for that in this town. I won't stand for it. Under any circumstances.

"Now, Virginia, if you please," the mayor said, turning to the woman. "Open the box."

The woman nodded as she came down the stage and approached the crate. She threw a switch on the side of the compartment and the giant door on the front slowly slid open, screeching as it did. I swallowed in my dry throat and gazed into the emptiness behind the door. A hush had fallen over the crowd. It was so quiet and tranquil.

I heard the rattling of chains first, then the low, vicious grunts and growls. A figure emerged from the crate, stepping rigidly out into the light. It was a Stiff, wearing a white-collared shirt and necktie, hair slicked back and jaws snapping at the air. Another appeared behind it, dressed similarly. Both were chained around their wrists and ankles and moved with onerous steps. Their faces were pale, fresh. They hadn't been Stiffs for long. Their clothes were clean, shirts neatly tucked in, as if ready to go to work that morning.

"Jared Laning and Robert Hargrave," the mayor announced into the microphone. "Your human sympathizers."

A purl of gasps swept forward through the crowd. I shifted uneasily where I stood. The Stiffs lurched forward, lunging at the collected group of Wakes before the stage. Everyone flinched back. The Stiffs were held firm by their chains, not allowing them to advance more than a few feet from the crate they had been stored in. The Stiffs thrust themselves forward, throwing out their chests as far as they could, the chains pulling their hands and feet behind them, to snap their mouths ravenously at the crowd.

"These are the faces of dissension," the mayor continued. "Now you don't have to follow the rules, but if you don't, you don't have any place in this town. That's your choice. Living death or death. They made their choice. We must all stick together and do what we were brought here to do in order for this town to survive. I hope that's understood."

The inarticulate rumble of the two former Wakes, allowed to skid to become Stiffs again, answered him as they jerked forward with all their strength to attack the crowd. The Stiffs bumped into each other, and one growled with anger and bit into the side of the face of the other, scraping away a layer of its skin with its teeth. The two Stiffs were then snapping at each other, locked in battle with only their teeth as weapons.

"Well, I suppose they'll make good candidates for one of our nightly Stiff matches anyway!" the mayor quipped.

The crowd laughed lightheartedly. I stared ahead at the Stiffs, unmoved by the mayor's humor. There was nothing left of what they had been. Their intelligence and free will had been taken from them, and everyone was fine with this. Because they had disobeyed. Because they had not towed the line. Because they hadn't done what they were awakened to do.

"Reel them in," the mayor instructed.

The woman obeyed, cranking on another handle on the side of the crate which drew the chains back inside. The Stiffs were forced backward and fell to the ground in a heap, still snapping at each other as their bodies were drawn into the box and the door slowly fell shut before them.

My mentor gazed down at me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "I hope the mayor's demonstration has been enlightening, Zellner."

"Yeah," I uttered, nearly imperceptibly. There were rules and laws in Revenant. And you couldn't fight the zombie man.

## 21. BREAKING IN

"The Stiff was huge! I mean gigantic! You should have seen him!"

"Bigger than you?"

"What do you think?"

"And you brought him down all by yourself?"

"Practically. I'm telling you, man, there's nothing like it! My first kill. I shoved the knife into its head and twisted it, and it was dead meat. One lame Stiff."

"Man, that's something else."

Big Jake puffed out his chest proudly. He parted his black lips, grinning. "It was nothing."

I slammed my locker door, allowing the reverberation against the metal to echo through the hallway. Big Jake and his captivated crony stared back at me for a moment. I picked up my backpack and turned away from them, stomping down the hall. Big Jake had been on about that story all week, and each time he rehashed it, the Stiff got bigger, his involvement became more prominent, and the kill became more monumental. It was sickening. I kept replaying the events of that night in my head, counting and recounting the number of Stiffs I had disposed of. One in the forest. The one in the creek bed. One on the way back to Revenant. Not to mention the countless number that I had escaped from. And I had done it on my own. Big Jake had taken down one Stiff, with five Advanced kids holding it down. For all his bluster, anybody could have done what Big Jake had done. I had seen real action, fighting for my life against hordes of Stiffs. And Big Jake was acting like what he had done was the most amazing thing in the world. And I couldn't even brag about my exploits without risking expulsion.

School days were becoming almost as unbearable as my home confinement.

"Hey, why so terminal?" Trevor met me as I tramped down the hallway.

"Big Jake and his big mouth," I muttered, shifting the strap of my backpack up on my shoulder.

"I know, man, he's been on about that Stiff he snuffed all week. I wanted to say something so many times. All he did was stick its brain. Any corpse with brain activity could have done that."

"Tell me about it," I answered as we stepped out of the school's main doors. "I took out three Stiffs that night, and I didn't have anyone helping me either."

"Hey, you never did tell me all the gory details. I didn't want to ask since you seemed so bummed."

"Yeah."

"Come on, man. Spill. I've been undying to hear about it. What happened with this human?"

"She was hiding out from the Stiffs like me," I replied. "I tried to bring her into Revenant."

"Thriller. Man, I would have just left her for Stiff-bait. I guess you are more cut out for human tracking than I am."

I shook my head. "Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"I let her escape," I replied. "Into town."

Trevor's eyes went wide. "But you got her. Right?"

I shook my head again and looked away. "She's still out there. If my mentor finds out that I let her escape. If something happens, I'm Stiff bait. They'll make me a Stiff. Lock me in the Stockade. What kind of human tracker does that?"

"Hey, come on. Your first night out you took out how many Stiffs? And you even found a human. That's more than Big Jake and the Advanced kids can say. That's gotta mean something."

"I don't know about that. Finding that human almost got me killed. She brought some Stiff roamers on me. That's how I ended up with my Frankenstein arm."

"Listen, just forget it," Trevor said. "She's gone. If she's in town, they'll catch her."

"Except then she'll go to another zone, another community," I replied. "That was my catch, Trev. I let her escape. And what if she tells them. About how she got there."

"Got where?"

"The Stockade!" I snapped. "That's where she hid. That's how she got away. I couldn't go after her. My wound was drawing every Stiff inside to me like I was ringing a dinner bell."

"Wow. That's insane. That human's Stiff bait," Trevor said.

"I don't know," I replied. "I've been thinking about it all week."

"What do you mean? There's no way she could survive in the Stockade, Zell. It's Stiff city! They probably ate her alive."

"Not if she didn't draw attention to herself. She could still survive."

"Zell, this isn't a human scavenger we're talking about. It's a little girl, with nothing to defend herself with. Get real, man. A pack of Stiffs nearly killed you. Think what that horde in the Stockade will do to her."

"She's resourceful," I answered. "It wasn't the Stiffs that almost killed me, Trev, it was her. She's smart."

"Oh, jeez. Don't tell my your turning into a hum sympathizer now."

I lashed out at him, pushing him against the side of the school building with a thud and pressing my hands into his shoulders. "Don't say that," I hissed.

"Hey, lighten up," Trevor said, pushing my arms away from him. "Maybe she was smart, but that doesn't mean much. I don't care how smart she is. Even if she managed to avoid every Stiff in there, it's been more than a week. No food or water for a week. Face it, Zell, she's dead."

"She had a backpack. Maybe she had supplies. Food and water. She could still be alive."

"You're crazy, man. Just let it go."

"I can't. It's my fault. I lost the human. I let her get away. And I lost the other humans at the farm. If she's still alive, and I could bring her in, maybe that would somehow make up for it. And it would prove that I have a contribution to make."

"A contribution? What are you talking about?"

"A contribution to the town! To show that I belong here. This is what I was brought here for, what I was awakened for. If I want to stay, I have to prove to my mentor that I belong here, that I'm not dead weight. If I bring her back to zone A alive, my mentor would see that."

"Don't be Stiff-brained." Trevor turned to walk away from me.

I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back toward me. "Hey, I'm serious. I really screwed up. I need to make up for it. If I don't, I'm as good as dead."

"How? Even if the human is still alive, even if she's been hiding out in the Stockade for the last week – what are you gonna do? Break into the Stockade, search the entire prison until you find her, and bring her back to my farm?"

I smirked. "Exactly."

Trevor tilted his head to the side like it had fallen off the hinges of his neck. "You're starting to scare me, Zell."

"Yeah, well, I'm a little scared myself. This isn't gonna be easy."

"Knock it off, man. You're being ridiculous. You can't go into the Stockade. That's where Stiffs go to rot. Nobody comes out. Not humans. Not Wakes. Nobody. You can't. It's not worth it."

"It is if she's still alive."

"Even if she's alive it's not worth it. Man, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

"No, I'm not. Not if I'm careful. And if you help me."

Trevor pulled away from me. He pointed his finger at my face. "Now you're being ridiculous. There's no way I'm going into the Stockade. I like being undead, thanks."

"You don't have to go into the Stockade. I have a plan. If I get the human out, I won't be able to bring her back to your farm alone on foot. It's too risky and it's too long of a walk. She might get away again."

"Then how? You can't just bring her on the bus."

"Your mentor has a cargo van, right? They've used it transport humans to other farms or the shambles after they've been dressed."

"I'm not allowed to use it."

"You've driven it before."

"My mentor taught me how to operate it, but I've never actually driven. It's supposed to be used sparingly. Gas costs too much creds."

"I'll pay you back for whatever gas you use."

"With what?"

"Never mind. My mentor will pay you. Anyway, a human is worth more than the creds it costs for gas anyway."

"That's assuming the human isn't already dead. This is ridiculous, Zell. It won't work."

"Yes, it will. If you'll help me. Come on, man. You owe me for getting me into this mess in the first place. It was your idea to go human tracking."

"I think you paid me back with what happened on the farm."

"That's what I'm trying to make up for. Come on, man, help me out. You wanted to go human tracking. Now we might actually have a chance to bring in a human for our community."

Trevor ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the top of his head, his eyes closed. He opened his eyes and gazed up at me. "If my mentor finds out I'll be grounded for the rest of my death."

I grinned. "You're the best, Trev."

He rolled his eyes at me. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tonight," I said. "After curfew. I'll meet you at the farm."

"If your mentor finds out that you're breaking curfew you'll be dead."

"He won't find out. At least not until we get the human."

"If we get the human."

"Don't worry. Anyway, I'll meet you at the farm. Then we'll get the van and drive it to the Stockade. I'll sneak in and find the human and you wait outside for me."

"Man, I don't like it," Trevor said. "If you don't make it out, what do I do?"

"I'll make it out. Just have the van waiting for me so we can bring the human back to the farm."

"This is insane. No zombie in his right mind would break into the Stockade."

"I guess that says something about us." I lifted my arm up toward him.

He shook his head. Then he connected his arm with mine. "Just don't go getting yourself killed."

That night I prepared for my undertaking. I was nervous. I knew it was a dumb idea. If I told my mentor about the human, he would probably inform the head of zone A's human tracking commission what had happened. My mentor didn't have jurisdiction over the Stockade, so zone F's trackers would have to take care of it. They would probably infiltrate the Stockade and find her with relative ease and safety if she was still alive. But that would mean that the tracking commission would have to be told what had happened. They'd know what I had done, and they would tell the council. The mayor would condemn me to become a Stiff, just like the human sympathizers.

I could just leave her. Assume she was dead, or would be soon enough and pretend like it hadn't happened. Just go about my zombie life and let the human die. That would be the easy answer. But we needed humans. And I had cost us the only ones our community had. I had to make amends for that somehow. And the human I had found was smart and resourceful. She'd be great stock. She might even make a good Wake. She was smart enough. She'd probably be a good human tracker.

The only other option was to bring her in myself. And that's what I was going to do. I had been thinking about it for the last week. And listening to Big Jake talk up his big Stiff kill all week made me more determined to go through with it. Stiffs were harmless if you didn't draw attention to yourself. I just had to be careful and I would make it out without so much as one Stiff grunting in my direction. I just hoped she was still alive.

I waited awhile after my mentor left. Then I grabbed my backpack and skated off to Mrs. Kushner's farm. Trevor was waiting for me in the field. He tossed my safety gear at me. The left arm was still torn where the Stiff had bitten into it a week ago, but Trevor had cleaned the dried blood off for me. I quickly stuffed the gear into my backpack and Trevor led me around to the cargo van, a plain white van with a long, empty rear, parked in the driveway. He opened the driver's door and sat down. Holding the car key in his hand, he slipped it into the ignition.

"Luckily my mentor's a heavy sleeper," he said. "I swear she could sleep through a Stiff stampede."

He turned the key and the engine groaned. He turned it again and it sputtered for a minute again before it finally roared to life.

"Come on," he whispered. "Before I change my mind."

I rushed to the passenger's seat and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. Trevor carefully shifted the gear to reverse. "I've never done this before," he offered. Then he carefully brought the van down the driveway, ambling slowly down the hill. He struggled to keep the car straight using the side mirrors, and we started to get so far off the road that I got out and directed him. After a while we were able to pull it out into the street.

I climbed back into the van. I glared at Trevor and he shrugged modestly. He put the van into drive and we began forward slowly. "Just go the same way the bus did," I said.

"I don't know if I remember the way," he said.

"We'll figure it out."

It took us much longer than it should have. We got lost a few times and I had to get out and ask for directions, claiming I had gone to zone C and gotten off at the wrong stop and gotten lost, and needed directions back to zone F. Eventually, though, we found our way to zone F's bus stop, where we had gotten off a week before to go human tracking. From there I was able to guide Trevor to the Stockade. It was a rough ride. Trevor was not a good driver. He got better as we went, but he was jerky and tentative, and laid on the breaks too much every time he needed to make a turn. I tried not to complain too much. After all, he was helping me when he didn't have to, and I wouldn't be able to do this without him.

Finally we drifted up to the front gate of the Stockade. He shut off the car's engine and we climbed out. A few Stiffs had roamed toward the gate when we pulled up, hearing the car's engine, but had wandered off again after the noise of the engine was silenced. We threw open the back doors of the van, ready for the human to be coralled inside as soon as I got her out of the Stockade.

We gazed ahead at the large prison compound. It was a sprawling building that stretched off in both directions for blocks, wide and gray. A tower sat near the entrance, overlooking the high-standing gate. It was made of thick concrete and stood two stories high.

"Ready?" Trevor asked me. His face was stern, his skin glowing against the light of the moon and stars.

I nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Be careful."

He raised his arm toward me and I connected mine with it.

I turned and faced the gate surrounding the Stockade. I drew in a breath, my dead lungs expanding as I did. It was time.

I was breaking into the Stockade.

## 22. WELCOME TO ZOMBIE HELL

I kneeled at my backpack and pulled out my safety gear. I quickly dressed myself in it as Trevor hovered near me. The plan was simple. Get in the Stockade and quietly search the grounds for the human or her remains. I would move through the building carefully and undetected by the Stiffs. If I avoided any sudden movements they wouldn't even register that I was there. Once the girl was found, I would use some ether gathered from my mentor's tracking supplies to knock her out and safely carry her across the grounds and over the gate.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I gave Trevor a thumbs up and scrambled quickly up the gate, taking care not to get caught in the swirling barbed wire on the top, and lowered myself as quietly as possible to the ground inside the compound. The Stiffs had drifted from the gate once the noise from the van had ceased. I moved slowly across the compound so that I didn't attract any of the roamers' attention.

I slipped inside the main door without any Stiff's awareness. A hallway stood before me. On either side ahead was a door. About a dozen Stiffs wandered the corridor, occasionally bumping into a wall and jolting back a few steps, only to turn and continue their aimless ramble. Sometimes a Stiff would stumble into another Stiff. They would grunt at each other, stare each other up and down, determine that the other was not an animate being, and turn and continue on. It wouldn't take much effort on my part to avoid an attack, but in the darkness, with her very hum 20/20 vision, I wasn't sure the girl would have found it so easy.

I went forward slowly, examining the floor for any signs of the human's remains as I went, pausing at the first door I passed to glance in through the window. It looked like an old laundry room, a line of washers and dryers extending from the far wall and turned over wheeled laundry carts littering the floor. No Stiffs seemed to be inside the room. I slipped in quietly and began creeping around, carefully exploring the room to see if the human had holed up in it. The walls were chipped and the room smelled musty. I checked every washer and every cart. The human was nowhere to be found. I slipped back out into the main hallway.

I shuffled by a heavyset Stiff in a plaid hunter's jacket and jeans. Its head, fitted with a cap, hung to one side as it stumbled awkwardly past me, like it was having trouble lifting its legs. It seemed like it would topple over with each movement. I sidled past it and it barely grunted in my general direction as I went. I moved to the next door in the hall and peered into the window. It was a cafeteria. Dozens of Stiffs were inside, pacing the large room, bumping into each other or overturned tables, grunting and moaning. The tiled floor was faded, cracked, and moldy. The walls were gray, with windows set high above the floor, where the second floor would be, and splattered with dried blood. If she had gone in there she was as good as dead. I certainly wasn't going to risk my life to bring her out.

I left the door and came to the end of the hall. It went off in two directions. One led to an opened gateway and the other to another hall. I went down the hall, finding other rooms to explore, including a library, exercise room, visitor's room, and a chapel. I inspected them all. Only the library had any Stiffs inside, so I avoided it. The rest were too small and weren't inviting to roaming Stiffs. The exercise room and the visitor's area showed no signs of her dwelling. I entered the chapel. For humans it was a safe place, a haven. It would be a good choice for her. There were no Stiffs inside. I walked quietly toward the front of the room, past lines of pews, which housed a figure of Jesus on a cross at the head, near a preacher's podium. The figure's head, covered in thorns, drooped to one side, and it looked sad and defeated. It looked so much like a human. The inscription read:

"And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.

Luke 23:46"

I wondered if this meant that when he died, Jesus had given his spirit to Heaven, leaving his body soulless. And when he reawakened, if that meant his soul was no longer with him, and if that meant that zombies no longer had souls, too. Then I laughed. I laughed louder than I should have, and my laughter echoed back at me within the little empty desolate chapel. I silenced myself, managing to swallow my laughter into a choke. A few Stiff grunts answered me, but for the most part it hadn't attracted any unwanted attention. I hadn't been able to help it. Because I didn't believe in that. I didn't believe in any of it. Not Jesus or zombie Jesus, not souls, not Heaven. I reminded myself that I was in zombie Hell. Not even zombie Jesus himself could save me.

I turned and left the chapel. The human girl wasn't in any of the rooms. There was only one room I hadn't looked in yet. The infirmary. I peered inside the window of the door. There were no Stiffs inside. I slipped in. I began searching the room, passing a line of sick beds that rested against the far wall. The room stunk like feces. I passed a cabinet and went to the closet. I pressed myself against the wall and, jiggling the doorknob, opened the closet door carefully. I looked in.

The human sat with her back pressed against the far wall, curled up in a ball with her hands over her chest, breathing shallowly. Her face was dirty and pale and she looked much thinner. Her backpack sat across from her. Empty food cans and glass water bottles were scattered about the room. Most of them were filled with urine. There were more in her backpack, filled with fresh water. She had been prepared to be lost for a long time. The girl looked defeated and helpless, and gazed at me with sorrowful, frightened eyes. I put my hand out to her. She screamed. It was a high-pitched ear-ringing scream.

"Hey, shut up!" I hissed at her, and reached to grab her.

"No, no, no!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Heeeeeeeeelp!"

I grabbed her wrist and tweaked it. "Knock if off!" I commanded. I dropped my pack on the floor and rummaged through it, cursing softly as I tried to find the glass bottle of ether. It was buried at the bottom of the pack and I was having trouble drawing it out with one hand.

Thump! I turned and looked out the doorway. A Stiff had bumped into the front door and thrown it open against its weight. I hadn't closed it behind me. Two more Stiffs piled in behind it.

"Shit," I muttered. I ducked back toward the closet door and pulled it shut behind me.

"What are you— "

"Shut up!" I said in a harsh whisper. I grabbed her arms and shook her. "Those things heard you! Listen, you're coming with me. We won't hurt you or make you one of us." I turned from her and reached into my pack, pushing a few items aside to grab a hold of the bottle and draw out the ether. "Hold still," I said, uncorking the bottle and moving it toward her.

"No!" she screeched and lunged away from me and toward the corner to grab one of the bottles that she had left scattered there. She picked up a glass filled with yellow liquid and with a grunt she tossed it at me with both hands. I threw my arm over my face and the bottle crashed into the bottle of ether I held, causing both to shatter and urine and ether to splash over me. Blinking, I spit out a mix of urine and bittersweet chemical from my mouth. Glaring at the girl with rage, I tossed aside the broken cap of the ether bottle. This wasn't going as smoothly as I had hoped.

I pushed my arm against her chest and shoved her against the far wall. "Keep quiet!" I commanded in a harsh whisper. "Or the Stiffs will kill us both!"

She didn't speak. There was no window on the closet door. We were in the dark. We waited. I heard a thump against the door. The doorknob jiggled. They were trying to get in. But they didn't know how to open the door. They didn't even know it was a door. They wouldn't break it down unless they were sure we were in here. We were safe. Eventually they would go away.

I crept up toward the door and put my ear to the wood to listen.

"Are they gone?" the girl whispered.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't think so. Not yet."

"Good," she said.

"What?"

I turned to look back at her, but she had sprinted forward, grabbing the doorknob and yanking open the door. She screamed loudly and ducked behind it. My eyes bulged as I watched her as if in slow motion. She was incorrigible. She had kept herself alive all week, trapped in the Stockade with the Stiffs, only to now willingly throw her life away rather than go with me. It didn't make any sense. It was safer where I was taking her. We weren't mindless like the Stiffs. How could she rather die with them than live with us? The girl was incomprehensible.

I stared out into the hospital room and saw three Stiffs turn to look at me, toward the noise. They began forward toward the closet. I backed away against the wall. The front Stiff came, snapping its jaws wildly. Its grunts were low and vicious. I struck out at the bottom of its jaw with the palm of my hand, knocking its head back and causing it to stumble backward. Then I charged forward, barreling into its body and knocking the other two Stiffs aside as I rammed it into the far wall across from the closet, smashing in its skull against the concrete. The Stiff's body lay motionless. The other two Stiffs slowly drew themselves up and converged on me.

I struck one in the face and shoved the other away. The human quickly emerged from the closet and made a dash for the infirmary's main exit. A Stiff met her in the doorway. The commotion was attracting them all. She gasped and fell backward as the Stiff snapped its jaws at her and reached out to tear into her head.

I snapped a Stiff's neck and grabbed the other Stiff around throat. It reached out with both hands to dig its fingers into my chest. I could feel my skin threatening to break under its grip. I cried out and pushed the Stiff with all my strength, throwing it across the room. It collided with the Stiff that had gone after the human, and the two crumbled against the wall. The impact had disabled them both. I went to the infirmary's doors and looked out. A sea of Stiffs was pouring down the hall toward us like water released from a dam. I slammed the door shut and hurried to the girl. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her across the room. I pulled her under one of the sick beds and held her close, putting my hand to her mouth.

"Stay down and shut up!" I commanded.

The front door pounded and shuddered. The Stiffs wouldn't let up now. They could smell blood. The hinges of the door began to splinter away against the rhythmic hammering. Finally, the door was broken away from the frame and collapsed forward. The Stiffs clambered in.

Feet shuffled and dragged before us. A Stiff bumped into the bed we were under, knocking it slightly, the frame vibrating around us. Its foot stepped a few inches from my face as it staggered by. The girl tried to break free, but I held her tight. She would be dead if she tried to escape now. The Stiffs weren't looking for us. Her screams had attracted them, but it was the blood they wanted.

Soon they were falling upon the bodies of the four Stiffs I had taken out. More than a dozen gathered around each body, tearing into the skin and pulling out the dripping, gooey innards, feasting on the organs voraciously. Their faces and hands were stained in deep red and they grunted wildly as they tore the bodies apart.

Now was our chance. I didn't speak. Grasping the human's wrist, I slid out from under the bed and drew her across the room. The Stiffs were too engaged with their potluck of corpses to even notice us slip by them and out the infirmary's doors. The hall was empty. I led the human down it, dragging her around the corner through the other hall that led to the prison's main door.

"We have to get out of here now!" I whispered hastily. "These Stiffs smell blood! It's only gonna make them more aggressive!"

The human tried to yank her arm free of my grip. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" she hissed.

"You don't have a choice," I shot back. "You're dead without me."

"I'd rather be!" she retorted angrily.

"Shut up!" I commanded. "You want to attract more Stiffs? Let's just get out of here!"

"No!" she shrilled. "I'm not going any-aaaahhh!"

The human cried out as a dormant Stiff, sitting against the wall, reached up, grabbed her leg, and dug its teeth into her skin with all its strength. Blood poured out around its face and teeth from the girl's calf. I released the human and struck out at the Stiff twice, forcing it to release its mouth from her. It jerked back, falling against the wall, then slowly struggled to stand. It must have been sitting in the hallway for a long time. It was nearly comatose from not having fed, but the struggle in the infirmary and the girl's cries must have awakened it. I slammed my fist into its skull, crushing it against the wall. The Stiffs would be on the human in an instant. The smell of her blood would attract them. Those that weren't feeding in the infirmary would be on her quickly.

I turned to grab the girl. She was rushing in the opposite direction, hobbling on her good leg down the hall toward the opened gate ahead. She was leaving a faint trail of blood behind her, like breadcrumbs for the Stiffs to follow. I groaned. She was heading toward the cells. I looked away from her, down the hall that led to the main exit. Stiffs were coming through the door now and the hall was beginning to fill up as they moved toward us. They could smell her. They wanted her blood. There was no going back the way I had come. I turned and raced toward the opened gate.

A long, dark corridor stretched before me. Cells lined the walls on each side, most of them opened, some even broken off their hinges, but a few locked shut. They were rusted and corroded, and the floor was dull, flat, and hard. Stiffs wandered about the length of the hallway, which stretched far back until it reached a wall. There was nowhere to go in this room. Stiffs were everywhere, plodding forward toward the human. It was a dead end.

The girl sprinted ahead, favoring her good leg as she went. She dashed between the bodies of two Stiffs as they reached clumsily to grab her and headed straight for the staircase. It led up to the second floor of the cells. There were no Stiffs up there. Stiffs didn't know how to climb stairs. They just tripped over the steps if they tried and fell. Take that as a helpful hint if you're ever face-to-face with an uneducated zombie, Joe. Find stairs.

I followed her. I raced ahead as Stiffs began surrounding me. I dodged them as bony, wan fingers reached out to grab me, scratching at my skin. The noise of snarling and roaring Stiffs was incredible. It echoed off the walls, a cacophony of hollow, guttural tumult.

I came to the staircase and stamped up it, my footsteps ringing. The Stiffs piled in after me, falling upon themselves as the first's foot met a step and tripped. They fell upon each other in a great heap, extending their arms forward and desperately trying to reach out toward us. I stopped as I reached the top of the staircase. Dozens of Stiffs were gathered at the base of the stairs. Some were starting to crawl over the bodies of the others. They would find a way up. They would crawl up the stairs if they had to. Nothing will separate a Stiff from its feed. That fact is the genesis of zombie education.

I hurried down the metal walkway, my feet clanging sharply under me as I went. The girl was rushing down it some yards ahead of me, trailing blood behind. But she had nowhere to go. The walkway ended at the wall, and any opening only led to cells. She was trapped. So was I. In all likelihood we were both dead.

I was catching up to the girl quickly. I was a lot faster than her. She was racing ahead, glancing at each cell as she passed. Then she stopped, spun ninety degrees to face the wall, and charged into one of the cells. She was cornered. I dashed ahead and turned into the cell after her, ready to grab her.

It was empty.

A hole was broken through the wall. I hadn't noticed it before. I guess no one thought to try to repair it since Stiffs never went upstairs anyway, and if they did, they still couldn't escape the gate surrounding the compound. I went to the opening and stuck my head out. The girl was sidling outside along an edge.

"What the hell are you doing?" I called to her against the frantically whipping wind. We were on the second floor, but it seemed a lot higher to me.

"Getting out of here!" she cried without looking back.

The Stiffs that were still outside the prison were now starting to move toward the human. They could smell her now that she was in the open. Their heads turned upward and their jaws began snapping rhythmically.

"Wait!" I called to her.

She continued to move along the edge. She stopped when she came to the end of the building. What was she thinking? Stiffs were all over the place.

Then she jumped. She landed on top of a metal wire cage, sprawling forward. She lay there for a moment, putting her hand to her leg to try to stop the bleeding without any result. The Stiffs surrounded her all around and began shaking the cage violently. She stood unsteadily, frozen in place where she was. I sighed. She was trapped. Humans could be so stupid sometimes, jumping right into the worst possible situation without even thinking.

I stepped through the hole and began edging out toward her. As I came to the end of the building she snapped her head up to look up at me. The wind was raging at me as I stood above her, gazing down, wailing in my ears.

"Stay where you are!" she cried over the driving wind. "Or I'll jump!"

I grimaced at her. If I didn't know any better, I would say that this human girl had a death wish. For whatever reason, she felt like death at the hands of a horde of Stiffs was a suitable alternative to going with me. Just like the woman at the farm. Maybe she wasn't as smart as I thought.

I took in a deep breath. Then I threw myself over the ledge and landed on the gate behind her. The metal wire vibrated beneath us as I struck. I reached out to grab her arm but the human had started running the moment I had jumped. She came to the edge of the gate and without hesitation threw herself over.

I hurried over to the edge of the gate and peered down into the darkness. She rolled off ahead of the Stiffs. As she stumbled to her feet, the Stiffs about-faced in unison and fell on her. I groaned.

Then I launched myself over the gate and landed on the ground just before the horde. I threw myself into them and grabbed at the human. I dragged myself backward, pulling her out with me, pale, undead hands splaying in every direction. Her clothes were ripped, her jacket shredded and her shirt torn from the collar past the sleeve, revealing her stomach and bra-covered chest. She was scratched all across her arms and she was covered in blood on her right side.

"Run," I told her, and shoved her forward. She darted toward the gate surrounding the compound, dragging her injured leg behind her.

I spun and began walking backward quickly. I dug into my backpack and drew out the pouch I had taken from the basement of my mentor's house. It was filled with rotting, bloody Stiff remains – Stiff bait. I tore open the bag, releasing the smell, and flung the pieces of dead flesh at the horde. Instantly they began to gravitate toward it. Most at the front kneeled over at once and started picking at the ground at the pieces that had fallen at their feet. This slowed up all the other Stiffs behind, causing them to lose their footing and making them unable to advance.

I spun and dashed toward the gate. That would keep them occupied for a few minutes. I made it just after the girl had started to clamber up it, the way she had when she first escaped into the Stockade. I followed, pulling myself up after her. A moment later, the Stiffs banged into the gate below me, smashing into it. Their arms reached up to grab my leg, but I managed to pull myself up away from them before they could get a good grasp on it.

The Stiffs were shaking the gate with all their strength. I had to keep focused and pay attention to what I was doing so I didn't let them shake me free. The girl slipped once, and skidded down the gate, but I managed to reach out with my free arm and push her against the gate long enough for her to regain her footing and continue on. The girl managed to make it to the top of the gate ahead of me and began struggling to pull herself over. The barbed wire scraped against her skin and she cried out with pain as it dug into her. I climbed to her opposite side and quickly helped her get over the top, lifting her body away from the barbed wire and positioning her over the other side of the gate. She tried to climb down on the other side, but she was in too much of a hurry and she fumbled, her fingers too wet with blood to hold on. She fell onto the street outside the Stockade, landing on her legs and falling onto her backside. I hurried to move myself over the top of the gate as she endeavored to draw herself up off the pavement.

I scattered down that gate as she began running with labored steps down the street, panting as she went. I didn't have a chance to catch up to her. Trevor darted out from the front of the van and wrapped her up in his arms. She struggled futilely to break free, crying wildly. He dragged her to the back of the van.

"What the hell happened in there?" he cried as he lifted her, legs flailing in every direction, and tried to dump her in the van.

I waved my hand at him, discarding his question. The sound of a Stiff throwing itself against the gate jarred me. I whipped my head in the direction of the noise. A thin, bony Stiff was pressed against the gate, its eyes glaring into mine as it widened its mouth and pushed its tongue through an opening in the mesh. It tried gnawing on the metal unsuccessfully, grinding its teeth. Its body was blood-covered, its long, stringy hair red with blood, and its long, thin, blood-died fingers curled around the metal links as the creature pressed its naked, skeletal body against the metal barrier. It was the woman from the farm, the one I had infected. She stared at me with her cold, lifeless eyes and I stared back. It clawed at the gate, its hands limply moving upward as if mimicking the way we had climbed it. She was empty now, as good as dead, and I felt a sudden urge to reach out and drive one of the blades I had brought with me into her skull and end her meaningless death. My hand blindly reached into my pack to clench the blade. The Stiff's blank, merciless face gazed back at me, and it felt only right that I put an end to its mindless existence.

"Zell! Hey, come on!" The sound of Trevor's cries drew me away from the Stiff. I turned my gaze from it and hurried to the van, leaving the blade in my pack. Trevor was holding the girl as she struggled, trying to lift her and throw her into the van. I helped, pinning her arms and helping him toss her inside. The human immediately attempted to jump out of the van, but I rushed at her, pushing her back in and climbing in after her. I reached out for the doors.

"Drive," I told Trevor. "Get us back to zone A. Fast. She's bleeding pretty bad. She might not last the trip."

Then I drew the doors of the van closed behind me, shutting myself and the human together inside.

## 23. COLD HANDS

I sat back against the wall of the van near the doors. The human curled up on the opposite side, near the front. After a few minutes the van's engine groaned lazily to life and we were bumping along, away from the Stockade. The sounds of grunting, rabid Stiffs fell away quickly. A thin line of blood trickled from where I sat to the human, who had her injured leg pulled up to her, hands pressed tightly to the area where she had been bitten.

I began undressing from my safety gear, tossing aside the rubber suit, gloves, and boots. Taking my backpack, I crouched with my knees bent and moved forward. "Here, let me look."

"Stay away!" she hissed, pushing against the wall of the van.

"I just want to help."

"I don't want your help, you monster."

I rolled my eyes and I sidled across from her and dropped my backpack in front of me to pull out some gauze Trevor and I had packed in it before we left. "We have to put pressure on it or you'll just bleed out and die before we get there."

"Good," she shot back. "I want to die."

"Is that why you hid in the Stockade for a week, eating cans of food, drinking water? Because you wanted to die?"

Her head dropped and her shadowed face stared menacingly at me. "I'd rather die than be at your mercy."

"Fine. Then I hope you enjoy being a brain-dead Stiff."

She jerked her head back with surprise. "What are you talking about?"

I edged up across from her and pointed at her leg. "You've been infected. If you die you'll become a zombie."

Her eyes widened.

"They'll throw you in the Stockade with all the other Stiffs. To rot. Forever."

She swiveled her head back and forth.

"Still want to die?" I asked.

"But you'll eat my brain. All the zombies do. Then I'll be dead. Just do it and get it over with."

"No. You're infected. Infected brains are as useless as Stiff's brains, or inactive brains to us. They can't be preserved and only have any effect if eaten while you're still alive. There would be no point to eating your brain unless we didn't have any preserves left in the community."

"Then what do you want from me? If you don't want my brain, then why do you want me? Why have you been following me? Why did you come after me?"

I shrugged. I didn't have an answer for her. Not one that would satisfy her. I crept slowly toward her, being careful to keep my balance as the van bounced along unsteadily. I sat down across from her and she slunk against the opposite wall.

"Let me see your leg," I instructed.

She recoiled.

"Do you want to be a Stiff or do you want to stay alive? Those are your only two options now."

She looked sideways at me, then slowly extended her leg. I began rolling up the leg of her jeans.

She gazed perplexedly at me for a few moments in silence, her eyes questioning me without words. "What are you?" she asked as I began examining the wound on her leg. The wound wasn't as deep as I had thought, and she hadn't lost any sizable amounts of flesh.

"I'm a zombie," I replied. "You're lucky. The Stiff that bit you was out of it. It had just reanimated. It didn't have all its strength. If we stop the bleeding, we'll be able to clean and patch you up. I don't think you've lost too much blood. It looked a lot worse than it is."

She shook her head. "You're not like the others. You can talk. That's impossible. I thought all zombies were dumb. How can you talk?"

"I learned," I said. "We all did. Don't you know anything about zombies?"

"We thought you were just a myth," she replied. "A story a couple of the scavengers made up to try to scare us, or that maybe they had gone crazy. Talkers. We didn't think you could be real."

"Now you know better," I replied.

"Why don't you try to kill me?" she asked. "Like the other zombies. It's all they do. They try to kill us. They eat us."

"We aren't like the Stiffs," I replied vaguely.

"Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?"

"I couldn't leave you there," I answered as I unwound the gauze.

"Why not?"

I put my hands to her leg to wrap the bandage around it. She withdrew it instantly, like a reflex action. "Your hands are so cold."

I examined my hands, the backs then the palms. Pale, tight blue skin masked the bones underneath, giving them the appearance of ice. I reached for her leg and drew it back toward me. "They always are."

"What did you mean when you said infected brains are useless?" she asked as I spread out the gauze and began winding it around her leg, the soft fabric absorbing the blood coating it, gripping to her skin like a magnet.

"Only living human brains work," I answered carelessly.

"What do you mean work?"

"Only living human brains keep us undead," I replied. "If we don't eat them regularly we die. We don't hate humans or have anything against them. It's biology."

"And you're okay with that?"

"We do what needs to be done to survive," I said. "That's all. Humans have killed to survive throughout history. Animals daily. Other humans in war. It's no different than what we do. It's out of necessity. Not malice." I lifted my head to gaze at her. "Look, I'm just a zombie looking to get by. I like being alive, or undead, whatever you want to call it. I have a good life. If I die right now, it's over. Everything. There's nothing after this. Just emptiness."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been dead. I've been a Stiff. If there was life after death, aside from zombies, then zombies wouldn't exist. They couldn't exist. If you think death is going to bring you to some big cloudy sanctuary in the sky, I feel bad for you. Because there's nothing. Death is emptiness. So you'd better hold onto life in whatever form you have it for as long as you can."

"That's kind of cynical."

"It's reality. Don't tell me you believe in God after all you've seen in this world."

She dropped her head. "I don't know. I used to. I guess I don't anymore. My father used to tell my brother and I to keep faith and not give up. He always believed even after the Outbreak. Even after the zombies killed my mother. He kept us going. Now he's gone. And my brother. I'm all alone. I don't know what to do anymore."

"Keep living. It's better than the alternative. And who knows? Maybe they'll decide to make you a Wake."

"A what?"

"A talker," I explained.

"I'd rather die."

"You will. But you'll be undead. Look, I admit that being a Stiff is almost worse than death. It's not being alive. It's just ... walking death. But being one of us, that's living death. It's awesome. It's a second chance."

"But you have to kill people," she replied. "Eat their brains. It's horrible."

"It's life," I said simply. I bound the gauze taut around her leg and secured it, making the human wince. I had wrapped it a few times around for extra cushion. It wouldn't stop the bleeding, but it would serve its purpose until we reached Mrs. Kushner's farm. She would take care of everything from there. I finished dressing the bandage and pulled away from her. "That should be okay for now."

"What about your family?" she asked, pulling her torn shirt closed as she crossed her arms and sat against the front wall of the van.

"I don't have one."

"I mean before you died. Your mother and father. What happened to them?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anything about my human life."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's terrible."

"It's not a big deal."

"It should be."

"I'm doing fine without them."

"Maybe if you remembered you'd feel differently."

"About what?"

"About yourself. About being a zombie. Maybe if you remembered what it was like to be human, you would see how horrifying your existence is."

"Maybe if you tried being a zombie, you'd see how cool it is," I rejoined.

"I'll pass," she replied.

"So you'd rather just die?"

"Everyone dies."

"We don't. The part of us that matters doesn't. Our brain doesn't. We live forever."

"Forever is a long time."

I shrugged indifferently. "Yeah."

"I don't know what I would do with myself if I knew I was going to live that long. I think I'd want to die."

"Not if you knew what death was."

She dropped her head and remained silent for a few moments. Then she looked up to me and asked: "Do you really remember it? Being dead?"

"It's like an old memory from a long time ago. I can't really remember it, but I feel it sometimes, like déjà vu, when something familiar hits you, but you can't really remember where it came from or what it was, but you just know that it was something that your mind held onto from long ago. A memory that it wanted to forget, but couldn't, and every now and then it creeps back on you."

"What's it like?" she asked seriously.

"I don't know. I can't describe it. It's ... empty. It's lonelier than you've ever felt. It's like being the last person alive in the whole world, except the world doesn't exist. It's like being in a coffin, buried under the weight of nothing. It's like wanting to speak but you have no tongue, or wanting to touch but you have no hands, or wanting to think but there's nothing to think. It's like you're gone and you don't even know it. It's ignorance. That's how I would describe it. Death is ignorance. That's why becoming a zombie is a miracle. It saves us from death, from ignorance. It lets us think and be again. It's a miracle."

The human dropped her head back against the wall of the van. "It sounds like hell."

I nodded. Death was hell. Cognizance was the only salvation.

She went silent for a few minutes, her eyes closed and head dropped back. For a moment I thought she had fallen asleep or passed out from exhaustion. Then she started to laugh. The sound echoed through the interior of the van, attacking me. She threw her head forward and giggled more, until she finally restrained herself, breathing in deeply to stifle her outburst of laughter. She gazed up at me, a peculiar smile pursing on her face.

"This is so weird," she spoke in a whisper. "I'm talking to a zombie! My brother would be in hysterics right now. We used to joke about talkers, what we would say to them. Like, Hey, how are you? Then my brother, being a talker, would reply, Well, aside from the fact that I desperately would like to eat your brains, I'm fine. Mind if I have a nibble, my dear? I'm famished! Very proper with a British accent like that. Somehow making a zombie British made it that much funnier. He would think this was the funniest thing in the world right now. I wish he was still here."

"I'm sorry," I offered.

"No you aren't. You'd have killed my brother the same as the zombies did."

"Yes I am. I may be a zombie, but I'm not heartless."

"You're dead. Your skin is all blue and ugly. And you stink. You need a shower."

"You don't exactly smell like a bed of roses yourself, lady. Locking yourself in a room full of piss and shit for a week isn't exactly the recipe for a fragrant perfume."

"I was just trying to survive."

"I thought you wanted to die."

"No. I want to live. Just by my own rules. Not yours."

"Why didn't you leave? The Stockade. Why did you stay?"

"I tried once. That's when I found the hole in that cell upstairs. I was too scared to try at night when it was too dark, and during the day they're all awake. I bumped into one when I was trying to get out the front doors and it almost killed me. I was barely able to get back to my closet and hide. I didn't know what to do."

"What were you doing in the forest in the first place? Humans never let kids leave the safe zone. The youngest we've ever found was an older teenager."

"My brother and I were looking for our dad. He was a scavenger for our group. He and a few others had been attacked by zombies. The ones who made it back didn't know if he had survived or not. No one was going to go back for him. So my brother and I did."

"That was stupid."

"We didn't have any other choice. He was all we had."

"Did you find him?"

"No. We got lost, and stumbled into a bunch of zombies. I hid. But my brother tried to take them out. To protect me. I stayed quiet and hidden and watched as they surrounded him and killed him. I saw them tear him apart while he was still alive. I can still see his flesh being torn from his body, and his screams. I can still hear his screams. And I just watched. I wanted to die then. I still do when I think about it."

"I'm sorry. Stiffs are merciless. They don't know any better. Their instincts make them attack anything that even appears living. We aren't like that."

"I don't know what you are," she replied.

"We're pretty much the same as you. We're just trying to survive in this world the same as you are."

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"We're going to keep you," I replied.

"Why? If my brain is no good now that I'm infected, what good am I to you?"

"You know things."

"What do you mean?"

"About humans. And the safe zone."

"So you're going to interrogate me?"

"We're going to see if you can help us. Or be useful to us. Humans don't grow on trees."

"You'll have to kill me before I tell you anything," she replied, the edge returning to her face.

"Maybe we will. And then you can become one of us."

She shook her head slowly, as if it required more energy than she had to offer to swing her head from side to side. "No. You can't do that."

"Maybe you should rest," I suggested.

"What's your name," the human interjected.

"Why?"

"I want to know. Do you have a name?"

"Yes," I replied. "It's Zellner. My name is Zellner."

"Zellner. Okay. My name is Morgan."

"Okay," I said uncertainly.

"I'm not an animal, Zellner. Even if you want me to be."

"I don't understand."

"You said that we're pretty much the same. Humans and zombies. Talkers, anyway. I just want you to know the name of the person you are going to do this to. I just want you to know my name."

"Okay," I said unevenly.

"I'm tired."

She rolled onto her side with her front facing the wall. She pulled in her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Goodnight, Zellner."

I spread my legs in front of me and rested my elbows on me knees, allowing my head to sink. "Goodnight, Morgan," I mumbled.

And the van rumbled quietly on.

## 24. LORD OF THE FLIES

The back doors to the van opened, spreading dense moonlight over us. Morgan stirred. I raised my head slowly to gaze forward.

"We're here," Trevor whispered from the mouth of the van.

"Finally," I grumbled. He had stopped a few times on the way back to ask for directions and I had been getting restless cooped up in the back with the girl.

I pulled myself up from the floor of the van, my stiff joints creaking as I did. I moved to Morgan and shook her gently, then harder, until she turned over and looked up at me.

"We're here," I said. "Come on."

I took her arm and hauled her up. She followed me wearily as I led her to the back of the van. Trevor stayed close as I climbed gingerly out of the van and then helped Morgan step down onto the grass outside his mentor's driveway.

"How is she?" he asked, looking Morgan up and down.

"She's okay."

"Was she bitten?"

I nodded.

Trevor sighed. "Then she's bad stock. What's my mentor gonna do with her?"

"She's taken in bad stock before," I pointed out.

"Yeah, and the last time caused her such a headache that she vowed never to do it again. Man, I don't know."

"Let's let her decide then. Come on, let's bring her to the barn."

Trevor consented. He took her other arm and we led Morgan to the barn. We put her in the nearest stall to the front door. Mrs. Kushner had cleaned out the other humans' stall, but it didn't seem right to put Morgan in there after what had happened last week.

"It stinks in here," she complained as we closed the door to the stall and locked it. "And it's freezing."

"We'll get you some blankets," I said. I turned to Trevor. "Go wake up your mentor and tell her to come here."

"Why do I have to be the one to tell her? I don't even know what to say!" Trevor groused.

"Then just tell her to come here and it's important. I'll explain everything. And bring some blankets with you," I instructed him.

"This whole thing is bad news all around. If I get expelled because of this ..."

"You won't. It was my idea. I'll take the fall," I answered.

Trevor, looking unconvinced, turned and left the barn. I exhaled, keeping my back to the stall and gazing out through the doorway at the black sky. I began counting the stars.

"This is disgusting," Morgan moaned behind me.

"Well, it ain't the Ritz," I returned.

"The Ritz?" Morgan asked quizzically.

"I heard it in an old hum movie once," I replied.

"A hum movie?"

"Human movie."

"I've never seen a movie before in my life. My father used to tell me about them. He used to act them out for us, like he was putting on a one man show."

"Boy, you really are deprived."

"My father said that after the Outbreak, the zombies infested all the towns. Most people who got out didn't manage to bring much with them. Most people didn't get out."

I shrugged nonchalantly, my shoulders silently asking: "What can you do?"

"You don't seem to care much about humans," Morgan said with chagrin.

"I'm a zombie, in case you haven't noticed."

"You used to be human. Don't you ever wonder about your past life?"

"No."

"Who you were?"

"No."

"I guess that makes it easier."

"What?"

"Is that your name? Your real name? Zellner? Or did you make it up? You don't even remember your real name, do you?"

"It was my last name as a human. I had an ID card on me when I was zombified."

"So there is still something human left of you."

"I'm not human," I said forcefully.

"You were."

"Not anymore." I turned away from her and looked back out toward the field. Trevor was walking toward the barn, Mrs. Kushner behind him in a ratty white bathrobe. He led her into the barn, handing me a worn blanket as he passed me. She stopped as she stepped through the doorway and gazed at me analytically.

"What are you doing here, Zellner?" she asked.

I swallowed. "Mrs. Kushner, I found a human."

"What are you talking about, young zombie?" she demanded.

I pointed toward the stall. She looked leerily past my hand toward the pen. Morgan sat against the far wall, knees curled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Her head was lowered and resting against her forearms.

"Sweet zombie Jesus!" Mrs. Kushner croaked. "Where on earth did this human come from?"

"I tracked her," I replied. "Last week when I went human tracking, she had escaped and hid in the Stockade. I went back tonight and found her and brought her back."

She looked at me with frantic eyes. "Don't you lie to me, zombie child! Tell me the truth. Where did this human come from?"

"That is the truth, Mrs. Kushner," I said flatly. "I'm sorry, but she got bit by a Stiff at the Stockade. She's infected. She needs to be cleaned and patched."

Trevor's mentor shook her head with slow, steady pulses, then faster, until she he was whipping it back and forth. "Zombie child, you are in very deep trouble. Trevor, get me some water and bring some antibiotics from the house." She turned to look at me. "Just wait until your mentor hears about this."

I didn't have to wait long. After Trevor's mentor finished cleaning the girl's wound and tending to the scratches on her arms, she sewed it up and gave her some human feed with antibiotics mixed in to prevent an infection. We had lots of human drugs from the former town's local hospital, and since they were useless to zombies, we could conserve them for occasionally treating ill humans. Mrs. Kushner opted to keep me at the farm for the rest of the night and then send a message to my mentor in the morning when he returned from tracking regarding the events which had transpired.

I was awake with the sun. I hadn't slept much the rest of the night. I was too anxious. I kept trying to figure out how my mentor would react. In one imagining, he was thrilled at what a sound human tracker I had proved to be, and how impressed he was with me bringing back a human to our community on my own. In another, he was furious at me for having disobeyed him, and determined to report my crimes and have me expelled. Neither idea seemed to fit reality, but I couldn't wrap my head around anything but the possibility of the two extremes. By the time the morning light flooded into Trevor's bedroom window, I was ready to be thankful if only my mentor would elect not to report the incident and allow me to stay in school. Quietly I was still hoping he would forgive my mistakes from last week and realize that I had a contribution to make to Revenant. Very quietly.

Mrs. Kushner called me downstairs a bit after dawn. My mentor was waiting in the living room for me. I paused on the steps and gazed forward at him expectantly. He gazed back at me with the same expectant expression. His pale face was damp, his hair scraggly, and his eyelids were puffy. He looked deader than usual.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"It was a long night," he replied solemnly, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. He replaced them on his nose and looked up at me. "Let's take a walk, Zellner," he finally said.

I moved clumsily down the stairs and followed him out of the farmhouse. He led me through the open grass field of the Kushner farm. Early morning gnats hovered around us, suffocating us as we passed. The morning was cool, the sun staring at us from across the sky and making everything dense and airy at the same time. Our feet kicked up slick blades of grass as we walked. My mentor's hands were shoved in his pants pockets and he looked ahead as I walked by his side, my head down, waiting for his judgment.

"Zellner, what you did was a very stupid thing," he said finally.

"I just wanted to make up for what happened last week," I offered meagerly.

"By doing the same thing."

"By bringing in a human," I corrected him.

"Are you under the impression that the only thing that matters is results?" my mentor asked. "That as long as we get what we need, the ends justify the means."

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"We have rules when it comes to human tracking. We have them in place for a reason. What's the most important rule?"

I tilted my head to the side. He had bored it into my head so many times that it was impossible for me to forget. "A human must be brought in under any circumstances unless to do so would endanger the life or livelihood of a Wake."

"Do you understand what that means?"

"It means you should always do whatever you can to bring in a human when you find one. I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have let her get away in the first place, but I tried!"

He put his opened hand up to my face. "No, Zellner. You don't understand. After all this time you still don't understand. That's what troubles me the most."

I sighed with frustration. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't mean that you should always bring in a human when one is found. It means that you should only bring in a human when it is safe to do so. Such as when you are trained to do so, or when you have a group of other trackers to help you. We never bring in humans alone. Under any circumstances. Especially without field training. I thought I made this clear last week. And then you went and did the same thing."

"I didn't know what else to do. If I told you the truth, that the human had survived, you would have to report it to the council. Then I knew I would be expelled. It was the only way I could think of to get the human back here without ending up as a Stiff. And I thought it might show you that I had a contribution to make. That I was capable of being a human tracker."

"Zellner, I never thought you weren't capable of being a human tracker. I just didn't know if you had the right mentality. And if that's what you were trying to prove last night, then you certainly did."

I beamed up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Yes. You proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you don't."

My face dropped. "What?"

"Tracking isn't about bravery, or strength, or the best laid plans of mice and zombies. It's about responsibility. Do you understand? It's about being responsible for yourself, for your group, for your community, and for the town. And you didn't do any of those things last night."

"But I brought in the human!" I objected.

"And you got her infected. An infected human is nearly as useless as a Stiff. And you could have gotten yourself killed in the process."

"I could handle it."

"That isn't the point, Zellner. Your recklessness can't be overlooked. It put yourself in danger. It put Trevor in danger. It risked the viability of the human. And above all, it put the town at risk."

"How did it –"

"The Stockade is dangerous. The most dangerous place inside Revenant. There's a reason only authorized Wakes are given access to it. You can't let Stiffs have too much interaction with intelligent beings. That's when they become dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"Zellner, a Stiff escaped from the Stockade last night. It ran amuck across the town."

"What?" The word was barely audible, already a whisper in my throat before I ever uttered it. "That's impossible!"

"The Stiff from Mrs. Kushner's farm," my mentor continued. "The one you inadvertently infected. It climbed the gate and it escaped."

"No way!" I shot back. "Stiffs can't climb gates! They don't know how. They're too stupid!" He was making it up. He was lying. To try to have something else to pin on me. To make me feel guilty for what I had done. But I wasn't going to buy it.

"It learned, Zellner. It learned."

"Stiffs can't learn," I retorted.

My mentor looked at me as if what I had said was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. And it probably was. "We're undying proof that isn't true."

"But how could it –"

"You've taken Zombiology, haven't you? Maybe you should have concentrated more in class."

I didn't reply. I had barely passed with a C. It wasn't my strong suit.

"Stiffs tend to retain vestigial traces of humanity in their brains," my mentor explained. "That's what makes zombie education possible in the first place. And the more recently a Stiff has been reanimated, the more they are capable of learning. That one was only a week in. You taught her how to climb the gate. You reminded her how. And she learned."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"I'm aware of that."

"Did you get it?"

"It rambled all the way to Zone C. Everyone was called in to try to capture it. It killed one of the town's zombies. A Wake from Zone D."

My face was stone. I couldn't move it even to express surprise.

"He was one of the first Wakes to encounter it, and he tried to stop it, but he wasn't trained for it. It had bitten into his jugular, then severed his head. We managed to dispose of it before it could damage his brain, but it was too late. There's no patch job for decapitation. We did the only humane thing."

Stick and twist.

"It was a gruesome night," my mentor said. "A tragedy all around. No one could figure out how the Stiff had escaped, until I got the message from Mrs. Kushner about what had happened with you. Zellner, this is unforgivable."

"But I didn't mean to hurt anyone! I only wanted to set things right!"

"By putting the entire town at risk. Whatever good you thought you were doing by breaking in there and bringing back the human, it was completely mitigated by the severe risk involved."

I threw my head to the heavens. "I'm sorry. I didn't think –"

"I know. That's the problem, Zellner. You're a Wake. The thing that divides us from the Stiffs is the fact that we think. And that's what I expect of you. It's what I expected."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked with an edge to my voice. I was tired of being chewed out. Whatever silent hopes I had of being rewarded for my courage and being canny in bringing in the human had been gnawed away like a corpse's flesh in a field of Stiffs.

My mentor stopped walking and turned to face me. "There is nothing more you need to say, Zellner. I just wanted to explain to you my reasoning."

"Your reasoning?" I looked up to him, his figure shadowed against the light of the morning sun. His shadow falling across me made me feel dwarfed and cold.

"For reporting you," he replied. "Zellner, you've left me no choice. Before you were responsible for the loss of human stock. That's a terrible crime in of itself, but one that isn't unforgivable. But now your reckless actions have cost the life of a Wake. You put the entire town at risk. I have to report this to the Mayor Hillard and the council."

I had no words to offer in rebuttal. My tongue was glued inside my mouth, and it felt like it was filled with thick cotton. My mentor turned from me and looked out toward the thin blue sky.

"I'm sorry, Zellner. We have to go to the council this afternoon. The Mayor will decide your fate. I hope you understand. You've left me no choice. Let's go."

He turned and went down the grassy hill. I didn't follow him immediately. I thought very hard about running, but I didn't know what good that would do me. The gnats continued to hover around me, tickling at my dull skin. I didn't move. I didn't move for a long time. I watched the little white bugs darting in the light before my eyes, like blurry snowflakes, and it was like they were dancing, and they wanted me to dance with them. But they weren't. They just wanted to gnaw at the dead flesh of my body.

## 25. DAMNED

My mentor drove me in his Jeep convertible. He usually only used it for tracking, but I guess he didn't feel comfortable using public transportation to bring me to my death sentence. That sort of thing required a little more privacy.

I went with him without resistance. I didn't have much of a choice. If I ran, the patrollers would find me eventually and then I would definitely be condemned to the Stockade. If I was lucky – very lucky – the Mayor would allow me to stay in the town, maybe performing some of Revenant's less dignified tasks as punishment. It was my only hope, and at least this way I had a chance to defend myself.

We drove into zone C and arrived at the Mayor's office, the town's former courthouse, in the early afternoon. My mentor guided me up the steps, past the giant pillars and through the doors of the building. We waited for nearly a half hour before we were escorted by a government patroller into the courtroom. The room was nearly empty, the lines of seats we passed vacant, and the seats where a jury would sit also empty. Six Wakes stood at the head of the courtroom – the council of Revenant, appointed by the Mayor, and Mayor Hillard himself, sitting at the front of the courtroom behind the judge's large table, dressed as he had been the first time I had seen him in an unbuttoned suit jacket. He nodded silently at us as we entered and stood before him.

Mayor Hillard smiled down at me – at least it appeared that he was smiling. It always did. "I have reviewed the details of this case as presented by Mr. Barton. Needless to say, I am quite concerned. You've broken many of our laws, Mr. Olander. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

I took in a deep breath. I had been gathering the words I would present to the Mayor during the drive to zone C. I hoped I could articulate them properly. The things in my head never exited my mind the same as when they were in it. "I made a mistake. A lot of them," I admitted. "But I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I just wanted to prove myself. That I had something to give to this town. That I had a contribution to make. Even with all my mistakes I think I showed that in some way, Mayor Hillard."

"I see," the Mayor said, gazing thoughtfully at me. "I've taken that into consideration already. Have you anything else to add?"

I stood motionless. I didn't have any other words to defend myself with.

"If I may," my mentor said, stepping forward. I looked up at him with shock.

The Mayor looked to my mentor. "Yes, Mr. Barton. Your opinion is always well-regarded with me."

"Zellner has committed a terrible crime. He should not be excused from that," my mentor said sternly. "But his intent was right. He only wanted to help this town survive. And in my mind, those are the kind of Wakes we need. Those are the kind of Wakes that will help this town thrive. He deserves punishment. A severe punishment. But he has so much potential, Mr. Mayor. He deserves a second chance."

"Living death was his second chance," the Mayor answered. "How many chances has he earned?" He shook his head. "By my count, your apprentice is out of second chances, Mr. Barton."

"He didn't intend to cause this," my mentor replied.

"The best laid plans of mice and zombies, Mr. Barton. This town doesn't survive on good intentions. It survives on actions. A good Wake is dead. Should I ignore it because of good intentions? What example would I be setting for other dissenters?"

"I'm not a dissenter!" I interjected.

The Mayor raised the palm of his hand toward me. "Quiet," he instructed. "You broke the laws of this town. That is dissension. It would have been wise for you to understand that a long time ago, Mr. Olander." He turned to look at my mentor. "These crimes cannot be buried in the ground, Mr. Barton. I cannot show clemency to your apprentice. If I tolerate in any way such acts, it could lead to bedlam. I hope you understand my perspective." He looked again toward me. "Mr. Olander, you have left me no choice but to rescind all rights granted to you as a Wake, and sentence you to imprisonment in the Stockade."

I didn't react. I couldn't. I was dead.

"Mr. Mayor!" my mentor objected. "Please. He has committed a terrible crime, but not with the intent to flaunt the laws of this town."

"He cannot go unpunished," the Mayor said simply. "He has no place in this town, Mr. Barton."

"I understand," my mentor said. "But he has not earned the same fate as other dissenters, as human sympathizers. Not in my estimation."

"And what, in your estimation, has he earned, Mr. Barton?"

"Exile," my mentor answered. "That is at least an opportunity for him. Not with us. Not in Revenant. But it's not a death sentence."

The Mayor considered my mentor's words. He looked from him to me and back again. "I see," the mayor said, and looked at me once more. "It is only because of the respect I have for your former mentor that I grant you this small mercy. Zellner Olander, you are henceforth stripped of all rights given to you as a Wake, and exiled from Revenant. Should you ever return, your living death will instantly be terminated. Is that understood?"

I didn't offer any comprehension. My mentor presented it for me. "Understood," he said.

"Twenty-four hours," the Mayor spoke. "Mr. Olander must be out of Revenant in twenty-four hours time. Should he be found in this town afterward, his living death will be terminated. Whatever resources you are willing to lend him in his exile is up to you, Mr. Barton. Tomorrow at this time, the patrollers will arrive at your home to escort Mr. Olander out of town."

"Yes, understood," my mentor said. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Thank you for your leniency."

The mayor glared back at him. "Don't make me regret it." He stood. "The matter is settled. The accused is dismissed."

The hearing was over. I was banished from Revenant.

I sat in Trevor's room on the floor, my hands pressed to my face. After we had returned to zone A, I asked my mayor to drop me off at Trevor's so I could say goodbye. He would return that evening to pick me up and get me ready for my exile, promising that he would give me a few resources and whatever brain rations I had left for the week. I couldn't be mad at him. He had done everything he could to protect me, and had fought with the Mayor to prevent me from being sentenced to the Stockade. I understood now why he had been so hard on me. He was trying to prevent this, and I had let him down.

"You don't know how bad things are in this town," he had said to me on the drive home. "There are things I've kept from you, that the Mayor has kept from everyone, because it could cause anarchy if it got out. Rations are getting very low. We might not have enough to last the year. He has been harsher and harsher in his verdicts. We don't have enough rations to sustain the town. If something doesn't happen soon, we may be facing a self-imposed genocide. I knew he would be strict in his decision. I was hoping he would see that you were a Wake worth keeping for the town's future. I'm sorry."

It didn't help, but I understood better why the Mayor couldn't be more lenient. I had given him a clear reason for having me dumped without anyone in town questioning the decision. I only wished I had realized how bad things were. Maybe I should have paid more attention to zombie politics.

Now I was exiled from Revenant forever. Even with the rest of this week's brain rations, I wouldn't last long outside the town. Eventually I would skid back to my former Stiff self. It was better than being locked in the Stockade, though. At least it was a chance. Even if it was a small one. I was grateful that my mentor had at least earned me that.

Trevor entered and threw himself on his bed. He sat up and gazed at me.

"I'm sorry, man," he offered.

I peeked up at him between the gaps in my fingers. Condolences weren't going to do me any good. "Are you in trouble?" I asked.

"Yes," he said simply. "Not as much as you though. My mentor's thinking of having me transferred. She doesn't know if she can handle my 'wild ways.'"

"I'm sorry. Did you tell her it was all my idea?"

"Yeah. She says I still went along with it and I have to answer for that. I don't think she'll transfer me. Transfer is a big X for any Wake who hasn't graduated. But she'll probably never let me live this down."

"I really thought it would work," I replied. "I thought my mentor would be impressed. That I would prove myself to him. I never thought I could be exiled."

"Me either. I thought that only happened to human sympathizers. Not zombie kids like us. I knew you might get in trouble, but nothing like that. Especially since you brought in the human. I mean, that takes some major zombie balls! No one goes into the Stockade alone and comes out."

I grinned. "It was pretty thriller wasn't it?"

"Hell yeah it was!" Trevor shot back.

"Well, at least I got some action in Revenant," I said.

"Man, I feel like this is all my fault. If I hadn't convinced you to go tracking none of this would have happened."

I brushed aside his culpability with a flick of my hand. "It was my call. I tried to bring the human in. I guess I had more to prove than I realized."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I guess wait for my mentor to come back tonight and get ready for my exile. At least I have a chance to survive."

"Good luck," Trevor said without sincerity. "No one survives outside of Revenant. It's nothing but Stiffs out there. I can't believe the Mayor would just have you dumped like that."

"Yeah, well, I gave him a reason to," I replied.

"I know. But I thought stuff like that only happened to dissenters, not zombie kids like us."

I sighed. Trevor had no idea. My mentor had told me how the five Wakes that had been dumped this month hadn't been human sympathizers as the Mayor's administration had claimed; it was because their positions no longer suited the needs of the community. Three of them were teachers, two from our school. There weren't enough students anymore to justify so many educators, my mentor explained. The other two, the ones that had been shown at the demonstration my mentor had taken me to in zone C, were human analysts. That was almost a dead profession in Revenant now. A living, uninfected human was considered good stock nowadays. The safest profession in Revenant anymore was courier. Everyone had the need to deliver messages speedily across town. It was also the profession that required the least skill and ability. Sometimes death wasn't fair.

"Everyone's at risk of being dumped nowadays," I told him.

Trevor shook his head. "I'm sorry, man."

"Maybe I should make a break for it," I suggested. "Try to find a home that's willing to hide me and keep me safe."

"Maybe," Trevor hummed in reply. "There aren't a lot of Wakes that do that anymore, especially since the government started distributing brain rations."

"Maybe your mentor –" I began.

He shook his head at my thought. "She'd never do that, Zell. And we don't have enough brain rations for you. I wish I could help, man. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

I nodded my understanding. I was asking too much of Trevor, and I had already gotten him in enough trouble anyway. "Without rations I'll skid anyway. What's the difference if I do it here or out there?"

"Maybe it's better to go straight to the Stockade. Get it over with," Trevor mused seriously.

"I'm dead either way."

Trevor nodded solemnly. "Damned if you do. Damned if you don't."

I huffed out and threw myself up off the floor. I turned to leave his bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"Are you gonna run for it? If you are let me know. I'll help you."

"Thanks, Trev, but I just need to be alone and think right now. I don't know what to do."

"Okay," Trevor said doubtfully.

"I'll be back," I promised as I stepped out of his bedroom. But I didn't know if I would.

I traipsed down the stairs and hurried to the front door. "Don't wander too far, young zombie," Mrs. Kushner called from the kitchen. It was like she could see through walls. "Don't go doing something stupid."

She let me go, though. Maybe she thought doing something stupid was the better thing to do.

I walked across the long, grassy field, kicking up the dust of dandelions as I went. The sun was off in the distance now, and it was a warm, clear late afternoon. My last day before I was exiled from Revenant forever was a beautiful one. I wasn't in the mood to appreciate it.

I didn't know what to do. If I stayed and went through with my exile, I'd eventually skid back to being a Stiff and either be left to roam or ultimately be killed. I couldn't stay in Revenant. That wasn't an option. Even if there had once been Wakes who had set up safe houses for those who had been dumped to try to protect them and keep them undead, rations were too tight now. Only enough was afforded by the Mayor to survive each individual Wake. To give up your share to someone else now put yourself at risk of skidding. Nobody took that risk nowadays. And if I was caught, it meant instant death.

I kicked at some dirt as I came to the path leading up to the barn. Stay or run. Either way I was going to die. It just depended how I wanted to.

I found myself following the trail up the hill to the barn. The doors were chained shut, as was protocol when a human was being held inside. I put in the numbers for the combination lock and slid it off, pulling the clinking chains out and dropping them in a pile of twining metal on the ground. I drew open the heavy barn door, the hinges screeching, and stepped inside, leaving it open to allow the sun to pour in and accord some more light.

I paused before Morgan's stall. She was half-sitting up on the single bed inside, propped up by her elbows and looking at me. She wore the same clothes from the night before with a blanket wrapped around her upper body in place of her torn shirt, which likely hadn't been returned to her.

"How do you feel?" I asked quietly.

"Terrific," she mumbled, falling back against the bed. "Is this my first interrogation?"

"No," I said.

"Then what do you want?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you here?"

"I really don't know."

"Then leave me alone," she said, and turned back onto her side.

I started to turn to leave. But I didn't. We weren't supposed to talk to humans. They were manipulative and would say anything to get free. I looked back into her stall. "I don't want to die."

"I guess it's lucky you're a zombie," she said, her voice flat.

"They're going to exile me."

"What?"

"I have to leave town. Forever. The Mayor wasn't happy I brought you in. I broke the laws of the town. I'm going to die out there."

She turned in bed and looked up at me with a perplexed expression. "Why? I thought you needed humans to survive."

I shrugged. "I'm still in school. I'm not supposed to be tracking."

"That explains why you sucked so bad at it."

"Hey!"

She grinned wickedly. "I did get away. That was pretty good, wasn't it?"

"You almost got away from a Wake who had never gone tracking before in his death. That's not much of an accomplishment. And I did capture you again. I went into the Stockade and brought you out. That's pretty good, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "If I could survive for a week in there, then you surviving for an hour doesn't say much."

"Maybe not," I admitted.

"Are they really going to kill you?"

"No. But without brain rations I'll just revert back to being a Stiff. We don't kill Wakes unless we have to. We just let them become not Wakes."

"Sounds like the same thing to me."

"It is. It's just technically different."

"Well, that sucks for you."

"Yeah."

"What's so bad about being exiled? At least you have a chance to survive."

"I won't last. I need brains to stay a Wake. Without them I'll skid and become like a regular zombie again. I won't last more than three days. And that's a fate worse than death."

Morgan sat up in bed. "Zellner. Can I trust you?"

"No," I said simply.

"What if I told you I could help you stay alive?"

"I'd say you're lying." Humans always lied when they saw an opportunity to escape.

"Fine. Then die, Mr. I Want To Live Forever."

I sighed. "Tell me."

She stood and came to the bars of the stall. I took a step back.

She looked at me strangely. "I don't bite."

"Sorry. We aren't supposed to be too close to humans." I took a step forward again. It didn't matter. She was already infected and she couldn't hurt me.

She wrapped her hands around the bars of the stall and looked out toward me. Her face was bright against the sunlight streaming through the barn doors, her light freckles announcing themselves against her skin. Her hair was frizzy and all over the place.

"There are a lot of humans at my camp," Morgan said.

"The human safe zone? Well, yeah."

"I can take you there."

I lowered my brow at her. "Sure. But you wouldn't. That would be stupid."

"Listen," she hissed. "You're already dead here, right? We lose a lot of humans every week. From illness or lack of clean water. We're really low on supplies and we don't have any medicines left. I can show you where we bury them. It's a smorgasbord of brains. Really."

"Only living human brains keep us undead," I objected.

"There must be some leeway. After they die, I mean."

There was. Between ten and fifteen minutes before the brain had no effect at all when we ate them. My expression didn't change.

"You can survive like that."

"If the humans found me they would kill me. I may be a zombie, but I'm no match for a horde of angry humans. And I suppose they have weapons."

She nodded. "Yeah. Some. But not a lot. And they don't keep guard. They won't find out. You'll be safe. Anyway, it's better than any alternative you have of trying to survive on your own out there."

"What's in it for you?"

"You lead me back to my camp safely, protect me from the zombies."

"I thought you wanted to die."

"I did," she admitted. "But you were right. It's better to stay alive as long as possible. And I'd rather be alive with humans than alive here under lock and key, being watched over and questioned."

"I won't last long out there without preserves," I said. "How far is it?"

"My brother and I had been out for a few days," she replied. "I'm not sure exactly how long. I lost track. At least three."

"I'll skid by then."

"But we were lost. And we were looking for our father. We were trying to cover as much of the forest as we could. I know how to get back because I know the way we went. I have a really good sense of direction. Trust me."

"I can't."

"What other choice do you have?"

"If I skid I'll turn into one of them. A Stiff."

She nodded. "Okay. Can't you bring some extra brains or something?"

I sighed. "Maybe. If Trevor helps me. I don't know. This is crazy."

"Would you rather die?"

I turned my head to the side and considered it.

"Can I trust you, Morgan?" I asked.

"No," she said simply. "Not any more than I can trust you."

She extended her hand through the bars. "But it's all we have right now. It's the only chance either of us has."

I squished my face to the side. Then I extended my hand and shook hers.

"Tonight," I said. "If I decide to do this I'll come tonight."

"Okay," she said, smirking. "See you tonight, Zellner."

I released her hand and turned away from her. The human and I had a deal.

## 26. ZOMBIE ON THE RUN

"Are you really gonna do this, Zell?"

I stepped past Trevor and moved into his mentor's kitchen. He followed me uncertainly. "I think I have to."

"What if it's a trick? You can't trust humans."

"I don't trust her. But it's my only chance."

"I can't help you get out."

"I know."

"My mentor would have me expelled."

"I know."

"So what do you want me to do?"

I grabbed Mrs. Kushner's chem dish, poured the contents into a container, and dropped it in my backpack. It would give me a few extra days, maybe a week if I rationed it right. I pulled the hood of my safety gear over my head, threw my backpack over my shoulder and put a hand on Trevor's shoulder.

"Try to stop me."

"What?" Trevor asked quizzically as I sidled past him.

"Your mentor needs to know that you didn't just let me run off with the human," I said. "Give me five minutes, then go upstairs and get your mentor and tell her that you saw me go into the barn and you think something's up. And try to stop me."

"I can't, man," Trevor objected. "I can't do that to you."

"You have to. It's okay. By the time you get out there I'll have her in the van and we'll be gone."

I raised my arm in front of his face. Trevor shook his head sadly, then connected his to mine.

"See you around, Zell," he said hoarsely.

"See ya', Trev," I replied, then turned and broke for the front door of the farmhouse. I was afraid to look back, so I stared forward, my sights set on the barn, dark and foreboding against the dull evening sky. I sprinted to the front doors and unlocked the chains, throwing open the barn door and rushing inside. I stepped in front of the stall and fumbled to unlock the door.

Morgan sat up inside the stall. "Is this happening?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling off the lock and tossing it away. "We have to go. Now."

I pulled open the stall's barred door and gestured her forward. She hopped up, smiling, her blanket still wrapped around her. "Leave it," I said.

"I don't have a shirt," she objected.

I reached for my backpack and pulled out a balled-up shirt and tossed it at her. It was one of those short-sleeved shirts that had longer sleeves made from the material of thermal wear sewn onto it. It was Trevor's, but he didn't wear it that much anymore.

"I've got an extra jacket, too, but that's it," I said. "How's your leg?"

"Okay," she said as she tossed away the blanket and pulled the shirt over her head. "It's a little sore but I can move it like normal. I'll deal."

I nodded my silent understanding and turned away from her. I opened the water and feed bins and began filling some containers with the contents. One was a pencil case Trevor never used, another a larger bottle that had been filled with human medicine, and a couple of storage containers Mrs. Kushner used for keeping extra bandages and towels. We didn't keep a lot of containers with lids, mostly because we didn't need to preserve anything that way. I threw the filled containers into my backpack, hopeful that would be enough to keep Morgan alive until we reached the human safe zone.

"Come on," I said, zipping up my backpack. I grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the barn, dragging her through the field toward the front of the house where Mrs. Kushner's van was. It had been low on gas when we had gotten back last night. I didn't know how far it would take us, but it was better than trying to go on foot. Most of the Wakes in town would be in hysterics if they knew a human was on the loose.

We sprinted to the driveway and I threw open the driver's door. "Get in," I said. "Hurry."

She climbed in and I went after her. She shifted to the passenger's seat as I closed the door behind us and put the key in the ignition and revved the van into action, the engine sputtering as I did. I glanced out my window. Trevor was rushing out of the farmhouse and Mrs. Kushner was just behind him, a terrified look on her face. I winked at Trevor, then shifted the van into gear like I had seen him do last night and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. The van's tires squealed in the dirt, then the car lurched forward and bumped wildly down the driveway. Morgan and I bounced in our seats and the van rocked dangerously. I could hear Mrs. Kushner wailing behind us as I swerved the van out of the driveway and down the paved street, the vehicle swaying dangerously to one side.

"Oh my God, where did you learn to drive?" Morgan spat as she reached for her seatbelt and snapped it over her.

"I didn't," I said, pulling off my hood so I could see better.

"Oh great," she mumbled.

"It's better than walking."

"Not if we die. Slow down."

I let up off the gas a little, trying to get used to it. The car jerked forward and Morgan gave me a vicious stare. Trevor said you were supposed to use one foot for both the gas pedal and the brakes, but I couldn't get out of the habit of using a separate foot for each. I let up off the brake pedal and tried to coast smoothly. There weren't any traffic lights, but vehicles, when used, which wasn't often, were supposed to slow down at every intersection to look for oncoming traffic. I failed to do so, finding it too difficult, and coasted through every crossroad.

"You drive like a maniac," Morgan grumbled.

"You think you could do any better?" I demanded.

"We don't have the luxury of motor vehicles at camp," she replied cynically. "It's nice to see zombies are getting good use of them."

"We don't use them a lot," I said. "Only for long trips across town or transporting stock."

"Do you know where you're going?"

"Kind of. I remember some stuff. Not everything."

"How can you even see anything? It's pitch black!"

"Zombies have way better vision than hums. We can see really well at night."

"There's no end to the wonders of being undead, is there?" she asked scornfully.

"The advantages just keep piling up, don't they?"

She shook her head and looked away from me.

"You know, you'd have made a good Wake," I said as I coasted down the street path.

She looked sideways at me. "Well, I'm sure you were a good human before you were killed and turned into this."

"Maybe," I said.

"Don't you ever think about it? Your life before you became a zombie."

"No. I like being a zombie. I never gave much thought to what it was like to be a human, any more than you give thought to what it was like to be a fetus. That was just what happened before my real life began."

"If you say so," she replied. "Where are we going?"

"Zone F, near the bus station I took you to last week. It's across town, but that's the only way we'll figure out how to get back to the human safe zone. We always believed that it was nearest to that part of Revenant, but no humans would ever confirm it. But the activity level of both Stiffs and humans had always been a lot more there than anywhere else, so it made sense. We could never figure out where the humans were hiding themselves, though."

"Our camp is pretty secure," Morgan said vaguely. "We have a few zombies that wander by but they don't really bother us."

"They won't unless they see a lot of movement or smell blood," I replied.

She nodded. "Yeah, we figured that out. One time there was an accident and one of our members got cut pretty bad. Then a couple zombies attacked us, but we managed to take them out. That's one of the reason we bury the bodies away from the camp. The smell lingers and it attracts zombies."

"That's smart," I said.

"We've learned from experience."

We drove along in silence for a while. I tried to remember how Trevor had come last night, which turns he had made and how he had gotten back on track after he had gotten lost and had to creep out into the night to ask for directions. Morgan gazed out her window, squinting into the darkness at the buildings we passed as we drove through Revenant.

"This is a nice town."

"Thanks."

"My father said most of the bigger towns and cities in the area had been overrun with zombies. It's not safe to go in them. We only go into smaller towns, but even those have zombies now."

"Revenant had been infested with Stiffs too. The Wakes who founded it managed to drive them out, then built a perimeter to keep them from getting in."

"A town for zombies. That is the craziest thing I've ever heard of."

"It's better than wandering from place to place. It's nice to be settled down. You can build a life. This area used to have a lot of human camps around it."

"I know," Morgan said. "We used to meet to exchange resources, food, guns, ammo, clothes, water ... everything. Then the camps started getting smaller and people started moving on."

"Why did you guys stay?"

"I guess we were afraid to leave. We were settled in. Nobody wanted to go back on the road. And we still felt safe. And since we're the only camp in the area, all the resources from the smaller towns or that we get by hunting go directly to us. There's no competition, except from the zombies. But they aren't very good hunters anyway."

"They're too dumb to catch anything small and fast. Humans are the perfect prey, though."

"I thought you said that you need to eat humans to survive."

"Their brains. Yes, we do."

"But if all the camps have left this area, how are you going to make it? There's nothing left."

"We'll find a way. We always have. We have some breeding programs going on. And we've got rations still."

"Breeding? You breed humans?"

"Yeah. My friend Trevor is training to be a human breeder. It's kind of hard to get them together, but loneliness and fear can be pretty powerful motivators. They can make a human want to breed with anything."

"Gross."

"That's humans."

She shrugged. "I guess sex can make you feel alive. Like blood is still flowing through you, and you're still capable of feeling pleasure."

"I wouldn't know," I said flatly.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I mean, I didn't know you've never had sex."

"Zombies can't breed."

"There's more reasons for having sex than to breed," Morgan replied with a laugh.

"Such as?"

"Pleasure. Fun. Excitement. To feel your heart beating faster than it's ever beat. To feel sensations inside yourself that you've never felt."

"I've never felt my heart beat," I said.

"You just don't remember it."

"I mean as a zombie."

"Maybe you've had sex. When you were a human. You look like you were pretty cute before you died."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Are you blushing? Oh my God, you totally are! I made a zombie blush!"

"No," I said, turning my burning face from her. There was still enough blood in the skin around my face for that involuntary human reaction. Even in living death, I couldn't shed every semblance of humanity.

"Too bad you aren't alive," she said. "It seems like you used to be a nice guy."

"I am a nice guy," I replied. "I did stick my neck out to save you. You'd have been eaten alive in the Stockade or that forest if it wasn't for me."

"Maybe."

"I was trying to keep you alive. You were trying to kill me."

"No I wasn't," she said sharply. "I just wanted to get away from you. You scared me. You still do."

"Why?"

"Because you're dead. It isn't right. It's creepy. I mean, I guess you do seem like a nice guy. For a zombie. Anyway, you're the only friend I have now. Even if you do eat brains."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," I smirked.

"No thanks," she said. "If only you could remember what it was like to be human."

"It doesn't matter. What happened to me when I was human isn't important."

"Can zombies even have sex?" Morgan asked. "I mean, because you don't really have much blood, right? So can you even, you know, get it up?"

I gave her an unappreciative stare. "Sex is a hum thing," I returned. "Love, romance, that's all stuff humans invented."

She gazed at me with blank, wide eyes, her head tilted at an angle.

"What?" I asked.

"I feel so sad for you," she said.

"Why?"

"You aren't just not living. You're not human anymore. You don't even know what you've lost. It's like you've been ... been ... lobotomized."

"Maybe all those human things you think are so important aren't really," I suggested. "You don't need them."

"Maybe not. But I wouldn't want to not have them," she said. "Because then what kind of life would that be? It would be so boring."

I gazed at her uncertainly. I couldn't figure out if she was right. I knew I didn't want to die, but would I be happier if I was alive? Yeah, Morgan was vulnerable, and weak, and so manipulative. But she could also feel her heart beat, and the warmth of the sun on her skin, and she could have sex. I've heard that's pretty awesome. Maybe life is better when you're alive. Maybe that's why Revenant had bored me so much. Escaping from this town with this vibrant, living human girl was the most alive I had felt in my entire death. Maybe there was something to this living thing Morgan kept going on about.

She rested her head against her window and closed her eyes. I looked over at her, examining her soft, white freckled skin and the short strands of strawberry blonde hair that fell over her face. I watched her stomach moving in and out rhythmically, in a way mine never did, because my lungs were dead, and I didn't need to breathe.

It made me wonder what it was like to breathe, to truly breathe naturally and not to suck in air forcibly through my dead lungs. It made me wonder what it was like to feel pain, or pleasure, or to have sex. I wondered if it was worth it. Mortality. I wondered if it was worth it to be human.

Then I got tired of thinking about it and returned my focus to finding my way back to Zone F. After all, I was a zombie, and that was hum stuff. I had so much more going for me, if only I could keep myself undead.

## 27. WORSE THINGS

The van sputtered to a stop near the boundary of Zone D. I put it into park and told Morgan we'd have to walk the rest of the way. It wasn't that far, maybe an hour away on foot, and I had a better idea of where I was going now. I had only gotten off track a few times along the way, but managed to get going the right way again without having to stop for directions. I knew it wouldn't be long before messages were sent to each zone that I had run off with a human. If I was on my own no one would care too much, but removing a living human from the town's borders was cause for immediate disposal, even if she was infected.

Shouldering my backpack, I led Morgan down empty alleyways and lonely streets. It was a bit after curfew, so there weren't many Wakes out, and I made sure to avoid any that were. From a distance we would just appear to be two Wakes about town.

"How's your leg holding up?" I whispered into the darkness.

"It's okay," she replied. "It's still a little sore, but it's not that bad."

I nodded. She didn't seem to be favoring her other leg. Mrs. Kushner had done a good job patching it. I was thankful for that. We couldn't afford any delays, especially once we left the town borders. A delay with Stiffs involved usually meant absolute death.

I kept my eyes open for patrollers as we went. As we were making our way through zone E, I glimpsed a couple down the street from us and I quickly led Morgan to an old building, some human store that hadn't been reoccupied after Wakes took over and rebuilt the town. There were a lot of abandoned buildings like that, broken down structures that no longer had any use in the world. I pulled her through the open doorway and we pressed against the wall near a window. I peeked out, watching as the patrollers shuffled past, glancing around.

"None here," one of the patrollers was saying.

"Can't believe a human got out. Doesn't surprise me it came from zone A, though. That place doesn't have any good security."

"They said a Wake sprung it."

"I didn't hear that."

"I guess your courier didn't have as much information as mine. Come on. Keep looking."

They disappeared down the street. I waited a few minutes, then crept out of the building, pulling Morgan behind me. "We have to be careful," I whispered. "They've already gotten the message out to the patrollers about what happened. We have to get out of here as soon as possible."

We continued on, keeping a lookout for any pedestrian Wakes. There weren't enough patrollers to really scour the whole town, and a lot of them probably hadn't gotten the message yet. Most likely only the off-duty ones were contacted and sent out. The others might not get the message until they reported back to their headquarters. That made it easier to escape.

A couple hours later, we finally arrived at the zone F bus station, where Trevor and I had gotten off a week ago to go human tracking. Thankfully no one was waiting for the bus. I hurried ahead, Morgan trailing behind me. We reached the gate and I began climbing, gesturing for her to follow. I came to the top and looked down at her. She was moving gingerly, wincing as she did.

"What's wrong?" I called in a whisper to her.

"My leg hurts when I stretch it that much," she returned.

I lifted my head to the sky in silent prayer to the God of zombies. Humans.

I climbed back down and wrapped my arm around her, allowing her to move using only her uninjured leg and arms, and half-carried her up the gate. I helped lift her over the top then brought her back down to the other side, allowing her to step carefully to the bottom before I stepped onto the ground next to her.

"I think I ripped some of my stitches," she said.

I rolled up the sleeve of her pants and looked. Two of the stitches had popped out and a little bit of blood was staining the wound. I sighed with frustration. I removed my backpack and slipped out one of the containers I had filled with water. I pulled Morgan down so we were both crouching before it and dipped my hand in to cup some water. I splashed it on the wound and Morgan breathed in through her teeth, making a hissing sound.

"Sorry," I said. I didn't have much experience with caring for humans. I knew next to nothing about physical pain. "We can't go into the forest with you smelling like blood, even a little. The Stiffs will be all over us."

"It'll keep bleeding," she said. "Can you re-stitch it?"

"No. I didn't bring any medical supplies. I even forgot to bring bandages."

"That was stupid."

"I forgot about your wound, and I had a lot on my mind," I returned with annoyance. "Here." I reached through the neck of my safety gear and felt for the cotton shirt underneath. I ripped at the collar and tore out a long piece of fabric. Taking her leg, I wrapped it tightly around the open part of her wound, securing it tightly in a knot, Morgan scrunching her face in pain the whole time. "Hopefully the pressure will stop it from bleeding. Let's go."

She rolled her pants leg down again and we moved toward the brush, going the way Trevor and I had last week, staying on the top of the hill. More Stiffs would be found in the valley.

"You're going to have to lead us through the forest," I said. "You sure you know where to go?"

"I think," she said. "It's really dark. All we have to do is find the river, though."

"The river?"

"Yeah, the dried-up river bed where I was hiding when you first found me. It'll lead us through the forest. I can find my way back from there. Everyone in our camp knows that if you go into the forest and get lost, follow the river to get back to camp. My brother thought if we followed the river back through the forest we might backtrack to wherever our dad was and find him. As long as we stay near the river we'll be fine."

I nodded. That would have to do. It was the best roadmap we had anyway. We went forward. I kept Morgan behind me, holding her arm, allowing her to direct me when necessary. It was better if I was in front. If we were attacked by Stiffs I could retain a lot more damage than she could. It didn't take us long to reach the forest and the empty creek bed. We stayed near its edge, never going more than a few yards away from it as we traveled.

We walked for a few hours before Morgan started to complain about being tired. She had hardly slept at all the night I brought her in, and none at all before I arrived tonight. My head was starting to ache too. There was too much activity and I hadn't wanted to eat any of the preserves until I needed them. Trevor had allowed me to take his and his mentor's remaining supply for the week. Mrs. Kushner would have to write a report to the council that they had been stolen and request more, or maybe my mentor would share my preserves with them. Trevor promised me they would be okay.

I brought Morgan to a clearing in the forest and we sat against a large boulder. I gave her a container each of water and feed, and I took a morsel of long, gray, spongy brain and swallowed it. She viewed me with horror as I did.

"That's so gross," she murmured.

"It's not your brain," I rejoined defensively.

"Why do you have to eat brains?"

"I don't know. I guess it's nature. Dogs eat cats. Cats eat birds. Birds eat worms. Worms eat the dead. The dead eat brains. Don't ask me why. We just do."

Morgan turned away from me and scooped out a handful of feed and slurped it up. "This stuff tastes like crap."

"We don't make it to taste good. It's got nutrients and stuff. That's all that matters."

She drank a handful of water and handed the containers back to me. "I never thought I'd be happy to go back to eating uncooked canned beans."

"You ready to start again?"

"I need to sleep. I'm dead on my feet."

I looked at her with an expression that said "Are you serious?"

"Sorry. Bad phrasing. You know what I mean."

"One of us has to stay awake at all times," I said. "It's too dangerous otherwise."

"So? You're dead. You don't need sleep."

"The less I sleep the more I use my brain. The more I use my brain the faster I skid and the more brains I need to eat. The sooner we get to the human safe zone the better."

"Give me a few hours," Morgan replied. "Then we'll start again."

"Fine," I said.

"Where can I sleep?"

I swept my hand above the ground. "It's no barn, but it'll have to do."

"I don't know if I can sleep on the dirt," Morgan replied.

"If you can't sleep on the dirt then you aren't tired enough," I said.

She frowned. Then she crouched down and rolled onto her back, folding her arms over her chest and resting her head on the dirt. "This is awful. There's probably bugs everywhere."

"Go to sleep," I said.

She closed her eyes and went silent. I sat on the rock and leaned forward. After a few minutes I could hear Morgan snoring lightly. She began tossing in her sleep. I dropped my backpack to the ground and pulled out the jacket I had packed for her. I stood and, leaning over her, draped it over her body.

"Night, Morgan," I said. I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. Here I was in a forest surrounded by Stiffs with Wake patrollers scouring the town I had been exiled from so they could bring me in and dispose of me. Still, I couldn't get over the suspicion that this human was going to be the death of me.

We moved on slowly through the rest of the night until dawn. I had allowed Morgan sleep for a while longer before I awoke her. She was still sluggish and we didn't make as much progress as I would have liked. She would stop every half hour or so to sit down and rest her eyes and have a handful of water. I was afraid that she would deplete all the provisions I had managed to bring long before we got to the safe zone.

As the light of the sun emerged over the horizon, glinting speckles of radiance through the gaps between leaves and branches, we stopped to rest again, and I had another morsel of brain against my better judgment. I could have probably gone longer without it, but my head was spinning and I couldn't concentrate the way I wanted to.

"We have to be more careful now," I said. "The light stirs the Stiffs from their sleep."

"I know that," Morgan said grumpily. "Why do you think we send scavengers out at night? During the day there's too many zombies."

"Why don't you get some more sleep," I suggested.

"Now you want me to sleep? When it's morning?"

"It's safer to travel at night. And you aren't very pleasant when you're tired. I'll keep watch for a few hours and we'll start again in the afternoon."

I let Morgan rest, but she wasn't able to fall into a full sleep. Stiffs were out and about, wandering aimlessly through the forest, bumping into trees, and occasionally each other, often resulting in a Stiff battle to the death. The moans, growls, and snarls were more frequent and intense, and it was almost impossible to ignore. They would rise a few feet behind us and carry on for a while, then off to the side, or in front of us, never completely ceasing, so there were always the cries of the dead assaulting us. Occasionally a Stiff would wander into the clearing Morgan and I had occupied and I would have to slowly and quietly turn it around from us so it headed back into the forest without being disturbed.

The Stiffs started to come more frequently, sometimes coming two or three at a time into the clearing to surround us, so that it was becoming a task to turn them all around and get them to leave without disturbing them. Even then they would try several times to return to us before leaving the clearing, and it wasn't long until I realized why. I could smell the blood as well as they could. I woke Morgan up and had her roll up the leg of her pants to check her wound while she slurped up a bit more feed and a handful of water to bolster her strength. I lifted the makeshift bandage I had tied around her leg and examined the piercing underneath.

"It's not really bleeding that much," I said. "It shouldn't be attracting the Stiffs like this."

Morgan frowned at me, biting at her lower lip.

"What?" I asked.

"I think I'm starting my period."

"What?"

"My period," she said in a harsh whisper. "I think it started last night."

"Your what? What's that?"

"Oh my God, don't you know anything?"

I looked at her with a bewildered expression.

"You're the most clueless zombie I've ever met, I swear. It's something girls do every month. They bleed." She motioned with her eyes. "Down there."

I looked sidelong in the direction she was indicating. "That's disgusting."

She slapped me hard across the chest.

I shoved her arm aside. "This isn't good. The Stiffs will be all over us."

"Give me some more fabric," she instructed.

"They'll still smell it," I said.

"I'd still rather not be bleeding all over myself, thanks," she replied.

I tore some more fabric from the shirt under my safety gear and handed it to her. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched her expectantly.

"Can you give me some privacy please?" she said harshly, putting her hands on her hips.

I rolled my eyes. "Is this really the time for modesty?"

She pointed with her finger ahead of me. Throwing my arms up, I turned and stepped away to the edge of the clearing. I waited a few minutes until she gave me the okay and I returned as she was re-belting her pants. "The flow isn't that bad," she said.

"You're a walking Stiff magnet," I said. "Your crotch is an advertisement for good eats."

She slapped me hard across the chest again.

"Seriously though. They're going to keep following us. The smell isn't that bad right now, so they've only got a vague sense of it. But if it gets worse, they're going to come after us."

"I'll have to keep it clean."

"That's a waste of water."

"Not if it keeps us alive. Come on, let's go."

I returned the feed and water containers to my backpack and we started again, returning to the dried out gully. We traveled most of the day, stopping every hour or so for Morgan to check and clean herself if necessary. Stiffs started following us as we passed, like we were the grand marshals of a zombie parade. We managed to keep them away, though, and Morgan's scent wasn't strong enough to incite them into full attack. In the evening Morgan had me give her a new piece of cloth and tossed the other one. We stopped to rest and she had some more feed and water, and I had another morsel of brain. I was going through them much faster than I wanted to.

We decided to rest until night, when the Stiffs would start to become dormant again. Only a few of the fresher ones would stay on their feet, and their senses wouldn't be as strong as during the day.

When darkness fell we started again. The number of Stiffs had gradually receded and we were left relatively undisturbed as we made our way through the forest that second night.

"When will it stop?" I whispered to her as we crept through the brush and between trees.

"Maybe a week. Hopefully less," she said.

"That long? Every month? Sounds like hell."

She gave me an agitated look.

"Makes me glad to be dead," I answered her unspoken retort.

"You're a guy so you never had to worry about it even when you were alive," she said. "Don't they teach you anything about humans?"

"They might have taught Trevor since he's training to be a breeder. I'm not required to take any human biology classes," I said.

"You sound pretty ignorant."

"I don't know a lot about humans," I admitted. "But I never really needed to know either. The only humans I ever saw were at Mrs. Kushner's farm and I wasn't allowed to speak to them. I would just feed them sometimes for Trevor. Most Wakes go their whole lives without ever seeing a real human face to face."

"I guess that makes it easier."

"What?"

"To be a zombie. They keep humans away from you so you don't question what you were or what you've become. They only show you what you are, the world you have. You know what they say: Ignorance is bliss. Sounds like the zombie motto."

"You don't know anything," I shot back. "They keep humans away from us because they're manipulative. They'll say anything to get free, then they'll kill you without even thinking twice."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. But I don't really have a choice. I'm outcast from Revenant. This is the only chance I have to survive."

"Is that what they teach you? That it's better to be alive no matter what?"

"No," I said. "They don't teach that. I came to that conclusion myself."

"Why?"

"Because I've seen Stiffs. I see what they are. And I never want to become that again. And that's death. It's wandering, aimless. No control. When I'm a Wake I have control. I can make my own choices. When you're dead there is no choice. You're just empty. I won't let myself become that. Not if I can help it."

"There are worse things."

"Like what?"

"Maybe you'll find out one day," Morgan replied. "For a zombie you're very sheltered, Zellner. Maybe you're lucky. But if you had seen half the things I have, you'd know that there are worse things than death."

"I can't believe that."

She pulled on my arm and I stopped walking. "What?" I turned to look back at her.

She pointed ahead a few feet into the forest. A body lay crumpled on the ground before a tall, gnarled beech tree, its arm thrown lifelessly over its head.

"It's just a Stiff," I said.

"Wait," she hissed. "Maybe he's alive."

"Nobody's alive out here," I said.

She pulled away, but I held her wrist tightly. "Let go!" she commanded.

"No," I said. "Come on. We don't have time for this."

"Let go!" she cried again, shrilly and loudly.

"Hey, shut up!" I barked at her.

"I think that's my dad!"

She pulled to break free again and I relented, releasing her arm. She ran to the tree and bent down over the body. She shook it. "Dad?" she said.

I stepped up behind her, watching carefully.

She gingerly lifted his arm away from his head, revealing a long face with a small nose and strong chin. "Dad!" she cried.

His eyes were closed and his head was tilted to the side, buried in the ground.

She shook him again. "Dad, get up! Dad!"

I touched the back of her shoulder. "He's dead."

"No," she shook her head. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. "Please. Dad, wake up! Wake up!" She shook his body again, hard.

"Morgan, stop," I said sternly. "He's gone. You're drawing attention to us."

"Please!" she begged, shaking his shoulder with as much force as she could muster. She fell on top of his body, arms clutching his shoulders and head pressed to them. "Please don't die," she whispered, hugging him close.

His eyes opened drowsily. They turned toward Morgan, fixing on her. She sat up, gazing down at him. "Dad?"

A light gasp escaped his lips.

"Dad!" She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and hugged him tight. "You're alive! You're alive!"

He turned his face toward her and lifted his hand to brush it through her hair. She touched the side of his face lightly, feeling his pale skin. Then he clenched his hand around the back of her head. Morgan scrunched her face. "Ow. Dad, you're hurting me. Dad. Dad!"

He began forcing her head toward him, and he turned his head to face her straight on. The half of his face that had been buried in the dirt was missing, nothing but skull, blood, and shredded skin masking it. Her father's jaw fell open and he gurgled voraciously as he slowly lifted his mouth toward her to devour her brain.

## 28. LOSSES

"He's a Stiff!" I called, and lunged for Morgan.

I grabbed her shoulder with one hand and caught the Stiff's hand that was wrapped around her head with the other. I peeled it off, freeing her, and tossed Morgan behind me. She fell in a heap of dried leaves, twigs, and dirt. The Stiff, becoming fully reanimated, jerked toward me, throwing its upper body forward. I leaped away but found myself being drawn back. The Stiff was clenching my hand. It had secured it with a fierce grip when I had pried it off of Morgan's head. I tugged to break free, but the Stiff held fast. Garbled groans and grunts were beginning to rumble through the foliage. The Stiffs were being drawn by the noise.

"Morgan, get out of here!" I cried back to her.

She slowly brought herself to her feet, stumbling as she did.

"They're coming!" I called. "Hurry! Go!"

Morgan gazed forward at me as I struggled with the Stiff that had been her father for a few moments. She sprinted toward us and stopped as she came to the Stiff. It was slowly climbing onto its knees, pulling itself erect.

She looked to me. "Please kill him," she said airily. "Don't let him stay like this."

I nodded once, firmly.

Then she looked to the Stiff, its eyes fixated on me as it attempted to rise.

"Goodbye, daddy," she said, blinking a trickle of tears from her eyes. Then she sprinted out of the clearing and into the brush away from us.

Once she had disappeared, I turned my attention to the Stiff. It towered over me, reaching with its free hand toward my chest. I pulled back my free hand and struck it in the face as hard as I could. The Stiff sprawled back, but didn't release my hand. Its upper body bent back at a weird angle and it stumbled, using my weight to help hold itself up. It slowly straightened itself, and I could see that my punch had dislocated its jaw. It hung off to the side, making it difficult for the Stiff to open and close its mouth. It moved toward me again.

This time I swung the arm of the hand it held behind me so that I thrust the Stiff into the tree across from us. It collided with a sick thunk, and the Stiff collapsed, its legs giving out underneath it. I had probably injured its spine. It sat with its back against the tree and head tilted back, inching its mouth opened and closed. I tore its fingers off of my hand and tossed away its arm. I turned to see a horde of Stiffs closing in on me, surrounding me in a circle.

I made to break from them before they could trap me, but then I stopped. I gazed back at Morgan's father. The Stiff was still undead, trying to pick itself up despite the fact that its bottom legs didn't work. It was clawing at the trunk of the tree behind it trying to rise. I sighed. I couldn't leave it like that. It had once been alive – alive with thought. Now it was nothing. Like Morgan said, it was like it had been lobotomized. All of its humanity was gone. And no one was going to give it back. I had to do the humane thing. It was funny how killing something could be humane. It was funny that a zombie was standing in the middle of group of hungry Stiffs worrying about being humane. I wasn't human. Not anymore. I was the living dead. But still there was humanity in me. Beneath the surface of my cold, pale flesh the vestiges of humanity swirled within. They were in all of us, humans, Stiffs, and Wakes. In some more dormant than others. But they were there. I was a zombie, just like this Stiff. But I was human, too, like Morgan. I was both, and neither. Maybe those labels didn't matter. Maybe all that mattered was doing what was right. Call it humanity. I call it a choice.

I glanced around the ground and finally found a sharp, heavy stone lying in the brush. I picked it up, cupping it in my hands, and turned back to the Stiff. I cried out and lunged at it, thrusting the pointed end of the rock into its skull with a loud crack. I drove it through a second time, this time breaking the skin and some of the skull. I thrust it in once more, piercing the brain. Then I lifted the rock over my head in both hands and brought it down with all my strength, impelling it into the Stiff's brain, splitting it apart inside the skull.

The Stiff went limp, its arms falling dead at its side. I stood, letting the rock drop and roll away on the ground. Morgan's father was dead. It was the right thing to do.

I looked at my hands. They were stained in the Stiff's blood. I spun around. The Stiffs had encompassed me, pressing against each other so there weren't any gaps in between them. I backed up against the tree, pressing my back flat against it. I was trapped. Their hands reached out for me, a sea of pale, white fingers accompanied by a cacophony of snarls.

I breathed in, preparing for the onslaught.

I threw my hand behind me, digging my fingers into the surface of the tree and spun around the trunk. I jumped and threw my other arm up to break my fingers into the brittle pieces of the bark. Quickly I pulled myself up, scrambling up the tree trunk. The Stiffs besieged the tree, their chests pressing against it with a heavy force and their hands reaching up toward me. I kept climbing until I reached a sturdy branch and managed to crawl out to it. I looked down. Most of the Stiffs had disregarded me once they smelled the blood of Morgan's father's corpse. They were crouched around the body, tearing into it and feasting. A few were still reaching out toward the tree. They had probably been veged for a while and didn't have strong enough senses yet to be drawn to the smell of blood. They were only focused on my movements.

I edged out on the branch, extending my arm against the trunk of the tree to balance myself. The majority of the Stiffs in the area were now drawn to Morgan's father's body. They wouldn't give me a second look. I braced myself, then leaped forward as far as I could. As I reached the ground I tucked myself in and rolled sideways away from the horde. I glanced back. The Stiffs that were still focused on the tree turned their attention to me, but there were only four of them now. They made a mad dash for me. I reached for my backpack which had been thrown away from me when I rolled and, tossing it over my shoulder, made a run for it.

I felt myself suddenly pulled back, and my backpack was torn off and away from me. I managed to link the pack's handle in the crevice of my arm before it could be pulled away. I stared back and saw one of the Stiffs had both hands clenched around the felt pack. It was snarling and pulling at the pack, snapping its jaws at it. It must have been able to smell the brain morsels inside now that it was so near. The other three Stiffs from the tree began falling on us.

I grabbed the back of the backpack in my hands and pulled it forward, trying to pry it out of the Stiff's hands. It roared with anger and pulled back with such fury that it tore the backpack in half, shredding the fabric and spilling the contents across the ground. The containers of feed and water broke open and spilled over the ground. Only one case of water stayed closed as it bounced away. The container of chem mix crashed to the ground, snapping open and throwing the morsels out of it. I clenched my eyes shut and swore.

Three of the Stiffs immediately dove on the brain cortexes, digging ravenously in the dirt.

"Perfect," I grumbled.

The other Stiff that had followed me from the tree continued after me, more drawn to the blood on my hands than the scent of brain pieces. I contemplated fighting the four Stiffs in order to retrieve the brain morsels before they devoured them, but it was hopeless. The chem mix had been dumped from the container anyway. I had no way to preserve them.

Instead, I reached for the container of water that hadn't been lost and grabbed it. Then I spun around and darted ahead, sprinting through the forest in the direction I had seen Morgan run, leaving the Stiffs in the clearing behind me. I began calling her name in a loud whisper. It wouldn't take me long to catch up to her.

A few minutes later a figure darted out from the brush across from me. I shoved my forearm into it, knocking it to the ground, and its body slid away from me.

"It's me!" Morgan gulped.

I hurried up to her. She held her chest where I had struck out at her. "Sorry," I said.

She swallowed hard, then turned from me and vomited. She looked back at me wearily. "That really hurt."

"Sorry," I said again. "Come on. We have to find a clearing. We can't stop here."

I drew her to her feet and we dashed through the forest hand in hand. I slowed my steps to match her pace, wishing she were capable of moving faster. She was panting and exhaling loudly. It was almost ten minutes before we found a suitable clearing, and I allowed Morgan to rest on a fallen tree trunk. She threw herself back, leaning on her elbows, and stared up at the black sky, swallowing in gasps of air.

I kneeled beside her, taking the water container I still held and resting it on the tree trunk.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice faint and wispy.

"I lost my backpack," I replied. "This was all I could save." I opened the container. "Here, pour some on my hands."

Morgan sat up slowly. "That's all the water we have?"

"Yes," I said. "Hurry."

She hesitated.

"My hands are covered in Stiff blood. They'll be on us all night if I don't get rid of it."

She relented, cupping her hands into the water container and pouring a handful of water over mine. I rinsed them together, removing as much of the blood from them as I could.

"There's only half of the container left," she said.

"That's all we have," I said. "How far away do you think we are?"

"I don't know," she said. "Could be a day. Could be a few days. I don't know how much ground my brother and I actually covered."

"Have a drink and then we have to start again. We don't have time to rest anymore. You're out of food and so am I."

Morgan nodded and slurped up a handful of water. When she finished she closed the lid to the container and looked at me. "Did you kill him?"

I looked away from her and nodded. "I disposed of it."

She nodded silently, then she shook her head, dropping her face into her hands and sobbing lightly. I slowly slid up next to her on the log and placed my hand on her back. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

The girl suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me around the waist and burying her head in the rubber of my protective suit. "Why is it like this?" she mumbled into my abdomen. She gazed up at me. "Why does it have to be so horrible?"

I looked down at her, sympathy masking my face. "I didn't make the rules," I replied evenly. I stroked her blonde hair, combing my pale hand through it, and let her emote for a few minutes more. I wasn't used to tears and grief. Zombies can't cry. Zombies don't pass away. Maybe that was one of the reasons it was so easy to forget there was humanity in me. The tears and grief showed only within. On the outside there was only death.

Morgan slowly pulled away from me, composing herself. "Thank you."

I looked away from her. "Come on. We have to keep moving."

"Zellner," she said, grabbing the sleeve of my safety gear. "Promise me something."

"What?" I asked.

"If we don't make it, and I die ... Promise me you won't let me become one of those things. Promise me you'll kill me."

I gazed toward her, searching her eyes.

"We could have made you a Wake," I said. "You could have lived forever."

"Promise me," she asserted again.

"I promise," I said.

"Okay," she said, picking up the container of water and standing. "Let's go."

My head was swimming. The confrontation with the Stiffs had drained me, and I needed some brain food badly. I felt unsteady, and sometimes I would trip over my feet. Then I would become aware again of what I was doing and be able to refocus. I was like an exhausted human trying desperately to stay awake. My mind kept dozing off. Morgan said I became sort of blank-faced then. My eyes were opened, but they were empty, and I would just stare ahead unblinking, dead to the world.

Morgan herself was getting drowsy and she started to complain of hunger pains. We had been walking all night, only stopping occasionally for Morgan to clean herself of any blood or alternate to a clean piece of fabric. There wasn't much of my shirt left.

"I need something to eat," she said, as dawn neared.

"No you don't," I said. "You can go longer without eating."

"I don't think I can make it."

I gave her a cross look. I probably only had a day left before I started to skid. The activity from being chased by the Stiffs had put me in much worse shape and I already had gone at least twelve hours without any brains. The recommended amount of brain morsels a day without vigorous activity was one – with activity, two. I couldn't afford anymore Stiff attacks.

"Can we at least rest?" she asked me.

"The sun will be up soon," I said. "That means dawn of the dead."

"I need some water," she said.

I sighed. "Fine." At the next clearing we stopped and I let her drink two handfuls of water and sleep for two hours while I kept watch. I had to concentrate to keep from zoning out, and when I felt like I couldn't keep my mind from dazing anymore, I awoke her and we started again.

We traveled all day, moving quietly through the forest, avoiding Stiffs as much as possible. For the most part we didn't draw much attention to ourselves.

"Isn't this forest ever going to end?" I begged.

"My father said it was one of the few undeveloped areas around. This river that ran through here before it dried up used to carry the sewer water out of the city."

"That's nice," I said, finding it difficult to grasp her words.

By evening my brain was mush. I could barely think straight, and I was answering Morgan's questions with elongated "mmmmmhmmmms" and "huhhhh-uhhhhs." She kept feeding me questions to keep me alert. I told her it would help keep me from skidding. Shortly after the sun set, it started to drizzle, dusting us in water. Within a half hour it had turned to a heavy pour, and both of us began to feel miserable. Morgan huddled up in the coat I had brought her, putting up the hood, and I flipped up my helmet to block the cascade from drenching me.

"We need to rest," she said.

"I can't," I sputtered. "If I stop moving my brain will really veg out."

"Oh my God, look!"

I rotated slowly in place, my body swaying slightly as I did, and looked to where Morgan had skipped off to. She stood at a post, her hands pressed to the surface, staring down at it.

"What is it?" I asked slowly.

"This is the marker for the trail going along the Westwood Canal. That means we're close," she said. "The forest isn't that much farther out, and our camp is probably only a few hours from there."

"Great," I said, neither gratitude nor relief in my voice. I didn't have the energy for emotions.

"When we get near our camp you should go ahead first," she said without looking back.

"Isn't it guarded?" I asked uncertainly.

"No," she said simply.

"How do you prevent attacks?"

She shrugged, looking sideways without looking at me. "Zombies don't go in the camp. It will be safer if you go first."

"Why?"

"Well ..." she said hesitantly. "The camp is safe, but sometimes zombies go near it. You should go first to make sure it's safe, then I can follow. The center of camp is secure, so we don't really guard it."

"You sure?" I asked idly.

"Yeah," she replied. "It'll be fine. Anyway, once we're inside I can show you where we keep the bodies and you can try to wait out a death, I guess. But you can't kill anyone, even if they're sick. Or I'll have you killed. Okay?"

"Sure," I mumbled. I didn't really have a choice. I didn't think I had the energy to kill anything anyway.

Morgan nodded once. "Come on! We're almost home free!" Then she spun around and dashed ahead of me into the brush, disappearing behind a cascade of rain.

"Morgan," I said flatly. "Wait for me." I walked with labored steps after her, finding the energy it would take to even attempt to run excruciating.

My feet dragged over loose twigs and leaves and I felt like I was going to collapse from exhaustion. A high, piercing shriek drilled into my head and snapped me into consciousness. "Morgan," I spoke in a breathless tone.

I pulled my legs forward, forcing myself to run as much as I could. My legs locked as I did, like I was limping, but my pace quickened as I dove into the brush and pushed forward with uneven steps. I broke into a small clearing to find Morgan with her back pressed to the ground and a Stiff on top of her, pinning her shoulders down. I tried to move to protect her, but my feet didn't respond, as if trapped in quicksand.

The Stiff snarled and thrust its head into her chest, ripping into Morgan's flesh and tearing a bloody chunk of skin out of the left side of her shoulder. Morgan screamed in agony and I stood motionless as the Stiff devoured her flesh, and fresh blood stained the dirt beneath them.

## 29. LIFE AND DEATH

"No!" I uttered, my voice strained and weak.

I forced myself to move. I dragged myself toward Morgan and, bending down, I wrapped my arms around the Stiff and threw it back with all my strength. The Stiff's body was flung through the air, sailing through the thicket behind, consumed by leaves and branches and brush. I kneeled down, gazing carefully at Morgan as blood bubbled from her shoulder and made the color of the dirt burn beneath her. Her head was thrust back, her mouth open, and she was breathing hard.

I pressed my hands into her shoulder, leaning on it as hard as I could. The groans of Stiffs rose around me. Her blood was redolent.

I gazed down at my blood-stained hands and licked my lips. It took all my effort to prevent myself from biting into the wound myself.

"We can't stay here," I said harshly. Blood was churning up over my hands like a geyser.

Morgan's face was frigid and her eyes were round and full of fear. "I'm going to die," she wheezed.

"It's not that bad," I huffed. "If we can stop the bleeding ..."

"We can't stop the bleeding," she mumbled.

"It's not that deep," I uttered, my words blending together.

Leaves rustled. I turned to see Stiffs emerging from the brush, stepping through into the clearing. One, then two, three, four, five ... more and more began piling in.

"We have to go," I said.

"I can't," Morgan said lightly.

"Put your hands here," I said, grabbing her wrists and pushing her hands onto the area the Stiff had bitten into. It wasn't a big wound and it hadn't punctured anything vital. If we could get to the human safe zone she could survive.

I drew in a deep breath, inflating my lifeless lungs, summoning all of my remaining strength. I slipped my arms under Morgan's body and stood, my legs buckling under the weight briefly before I forced myself erect. I groaned. It felt like I was lifting a full-capacity bus. I stumbled forward, forcing myself to make long strides. I began moving more quickly, pumping my legs as fast as they would go, and I dashed through the clearing, swerving between the bodies of two Stiffs and receding into the brush.

I don't remember much of what happened then. It's all a giant blur of rain and leaves and snarls and darkness now. When I emerged from the forest my vision was shaky and little colored specks were flitting before my eyes. The creek bed, now slowly filling with water from the rain, extended before us a few yards away. Empty streets, littered with abandoned cars, surrounded us. A small wooden bridge extended over the river ahead. I made my way toward it, stepping carefully down the slope. I paused as I reached the ridge of the river and glanced back. Through the torrents of rain I could see the Stiffs emerging from the forest and spreading out in a disorderly fashion. I leaped into the base of the river, splashing down on two feet and sprawling forward. I dragged Morgan under the bridge and rested her against the side of the dirt wall.

Her hands were still pressed to her shoulder, watery streams of blood washing over them. I collapsed next to her, pulling off the hood of my safety gear and dropping my head against the wall behind me. I was exhausted and felt like if I tried to move anymore, my entire body would fall to pieces.

"The rain's diluting the scent f'your blood," I wheezed, my words bleeding together. "The Stiffs won't be'ble to track us."

Morgan didn't reply. She curled in close and leaned off to the side. Drawing as much energy as I could, I slowly peeled off the top layer of my safety gear and pulled off my shirt, revealing my pale blue chest. I ripped the fabric apart, then bent over Morgan and began tying it around her, wrapping her wound and cinching it to help stop the bleeding.

"Later tonight, when the rain stops, we'll move'n to'th' safe zone," I said wearily.

"We have to follow the river," she said quietly.

"S'it safe?" I asked absently.

She nodded silently. "It hurts," she said quietly.

"Ts'a flesh a wound," I drawled, my speech slurred. "It didn't bite deep. You'll be okay."

She nodded lifelessly, and turned her head to the side.

"Try to stay awake," I mumbled. "Just rest ..."

She nodded listlessly again, her eyes closed. I put my arms around her as if to protect her, but in all honesty I had barely enough energy to hold her. I didn't want her to die. I didn't want her to become a zombie. I didn't want to have to kill her. She wasn't like the other humans. At least not the ones I had been taught about. She was so much like me. It was just buried within, beneath the glow of life that radiated from her person. After everything we had been through, this human was my friend, and I didn't want her to die.

I stared up at the base of the bridge. My mind was a haze. I'd need to get to the human burial site first thing. I could barely keep focus and I was having trouble speaking clearly. I didn't feel like I could stay awake much longer.

I dropped my head to the side and gazed out into the rain, looking up at the ground above. Stiffs wandered about the streets. Hopefully none would accidentally stumble into the creek bed. I didn't have the energy to fight them off anymore. I turned my gaze to the black night's sky, watching it through the cascade of rain making it look like an old hum movie with film scratches and flickers flashing across it. The sky was empty. The sound of the steady pour of rain rattling softly around me drowsed me into a dull inertia. I closed my eyes and inexorably drifted into unconsciousness.

## 30. AWAKENINGS

I languidly opened my eyes shortly after dawn. I could hear the soft static sound of sprinkling rain around me. My head felt better. Sleeping must have given it enough rest to recharge. I felt like I had a lot more energy now. I would need it if I was going to bring Morgan to the human safe zone.

I was sprawled over at a weird angle inside a pool of muddy water that filled the creek bed. I must have been in a very sound sleep, because I couldn't remember anything from after we settled under the bridge last night, not even my dreams. The Stiffs must have left us alone, the rain washing away whatever smell of blood there was.

There wasn't any time to waste. We'd have to move now and get to the human safe zone before the rain let up completely, or the Stiffs would be on us again. I could smell the blood myself, pungent and acute. The smell was so strong, and I realized that Morgan must have been bleeding worse now.

I was lying over her, our bodies wrapped up and twisted together. I slowly pushed myself up. I craned my neck to the sky to stretch it and noticed that my jaw was hanging open, and my mouth and chin were wet. There was something in my mouth and I was chewing it rhythmically. I had been since I awoke, I realized. I stopped. The rusty taste of blood was on my tongue, making me salivate. I swallowed slowly, allowing the spongy substance in my mouth to slide down my throat. Brains.

I sat up slowly and drew my hands to my face. They were coated in splatters of red and were trembling. I gazed downward at Morgan. She lay motionless next to me. I reached out to touch her face. Then I cupped my hand under her head and lifted it. The top of her head was cracked open, her skull fractured and the inside ravaged. Blood smeared her face and neck, her clothes and body, and her light hair was stained red. Appalled, I pulled my hand away and allowed her head to drop, making a sick squishing sound as it fell into the moist ground.

I hadn't fallen asleep. I had skidded. I had become a Stiff. And during the night I had cracked open her skull and eaten her brain. Morgan was dead.

I shifted away from her body. I slowly pulled myself up, using the dirt wall behind me to help me balance. I stood over her remains. Her white skin was stained with redness, making her freckles look like mosquito bites. Her face was twisted in a dull, frightened expression, what I imagined the look of betrayal to be. She could never revive. Her brain was gone. She was dead. Forever. And I had killed her.

"I'm sorry, Morgan," I mumbled lightly.

I threw my head back and gazed at the top of the bridge that stretched over us, and non-existent tears demanded to be released from the ducts of my dry eyes. I dropped my head and my stomach convulsed. I didn't know what I was. Was I a monster? Was I human? Was I alive? Or dead? Or none of it? I was born a human. I died and became a zombie. And I was taught to be human again. What did that make me? I was alive – or at least still awake – and Morgan wasn't. Was I deserving of life more than she was because I wanted it more? Because I was willing to do more to hold onto it? Did it even matter? There was no God or zombie God looking out for me or for Morgan.

She would have made a good Wake. But I had to go and eat her brain. Life wasn't fair, and neither was death. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I took a moment to compose myself and regain my strength and mobility, then I set to work.

I dragged Morgan's body out from under the bridge and laid it in the moist dirt. I turned to the dirt wall across from me and carefully climbed out of the creek bed, my feet splashing against the thin layer of water beneath me. I felt much stronger and more alert, like the first night after Morgan and I had left. I looked around. Some Stiffs were still milling around the streets, but most had probably returned to the forest. More would be out soon, though, with morning arriving.

I went along the edge of the forest and found a bush of white baby's breath flowers. I picked a few off by the stems and climbed back down into the riverbed. I laid the flowers over Morgan's body, then bent down and carefully began smearing mud over her body and clothes, until it looked like she was caked in clumps of chocolate pudding. The smell of the dirt would help mask the smell of blood and keep the Stiffs away. Maybe it was a waste of time, but it had only taken about fifteen minutes, and it seemed like Morgan deserved something of a proper burial, even if she was just a human. After all, we were all human once, in some way. And she had been my friend. Sure it was never meant to be. Like the Montagues and the Cupulets, zombies and humans don't play well together. But when you took away the labels, and ignored the savory smell of her liveliness, or the dank rot of my corpse, Wakes and humans were pretty much the same. In a world where zombies don't eat human brains, Morgan and I could have been best friends. But that wasn't the world I lived in. And I didn't want to die ever again.

Even so, somehow that little weak strong mortal human girl had become my friend. I had actually cared for her, and I wished she hadn't died. She deserved to die with someone remembering her, even if it was a zombie.

I bent over her body and touched the top of her face, and for a moment, I hoped that God existed, and that there was a life after death, aside from zombies.

I stood over her and considered my next move. My face and body was slick with moisture, and I was alone, far from the only home I had ever known, and only a day or two away from absolute death. Morning would be arriving soon, and the Stiffs would gather. I could never go back. I had only one option left if I wanted to survive. I couldn't let myself have devoured Morgan's brain for nothing. For her sake, I had to survive.

I left Morgan's body and found a rain puddle and began washing the blood from my hands and face and chest. I pulled the upper half of my safety gear back on, nodded a final goodbye to Morgan, and climbed back out of the creek. I was alone, but Morgan had led me out of the forest and told me where to go. She had said the safe zone was only a couple hours from the forest. It was my only hope. If I was lucky, I would find it.

I did as Morgan had said the night before and followed the river. Eating Morgan's brain had bought me a day or two, but unless I found the safe zone, I was doomed to life as a Stiff.

I walked listlessly. As the sun rose over the horizon, Stiffs began to awaken and emerge from wherever they had been resting. They left me alone though. They didn't even register my existence as I shuffled languidly by. I had never been this far from Revenant. It was weird seeing a town so empty and abandoned. The cars were rusted and stripped of paint, relics from a world lost long ago. Debris was scattered all over. Birds chirped merrily, oblivious to it all. Soon the creek bed became wider and opened up into a cement channel. Power lines stretched across on the opposite side of the bank from me. Within a couple hours there appeared in the distance three tunnels where the channel came to an end.

I paused in my steps to read a warning sign indicating that the channel was used to collect sewage overflow and transport it to a processing facility. I rested for a few moments here, on top of an overpass near the sign, waiting to regain my energy before I began progressing again. As I did, a Stiff appeared a few yards away from me, emerging from a collection of trees opposite the channel. It moved groggily forward, toward the tunnels. I watched it with curiosity.

Then there came a thick, muffled sound, and instantly the Stiff's head jerked back and it collapsed in a heap on the ground. Thick blood began to ooze from its head, darkening the ground underneath it. I gasped. I crouched low behind the gate running along the overpass and stayed put. After a few moments two human men appeared, walking slowly from a platform near the tunnels until they reached the body of the Stiff. They were tall and slightly emaciated, though it looked like they had been well-built at one time. They wore tired jeans and ratty flannel button-up shirts. Their faces were scruffy, hair disheveled, and they looked very worn down and somewhat unhealthy. The hums at Mrs. Kushner farm looked far better taken care of.

The leader had a rifle strapped to his back and in his hand he held a small pistol. The other had a rifle in hand and pistol holstered to his belt.

"Another one for the pile," the leader croaked. "That's four this morning already! You're way behind, Kent!"

"Stop bragging and dump it already, before you attract a horde," the other man said.

"There was another one coming up this way, down by the sign," the first man said. "Why don't you go see if it's still there? That would at least give you one!"

I swallowed, clenching my hands around the mesh of the gate.

The second man waved off the first. "It's gone now. Anyway, it wasn't on my side. All the zombies come from the south."

"Excuses, excuses," the first man mumbled, then grabbed the fallen Stiff's arm and dragged it toward the trees.

The second man shook his head and turned around, heading back to the platform near the tunnels. "Hurry up," he said.

I quietly followed the first man into the trees, keeping a distance. I peered through the leaves as the man drew the Stiff's body across the grass into a yard. There, before an abandoned house was a pile of at least twenty Stiff bodies. Two undead Stiffs were on the pile, picking at the flesh of the others. The man lifted the Stiff's body in his hand and tossed it onto the pile. The undead Stiffs didn't even notice his arrival.

The man circled around the heap to the first undead Stiff. It was bent over the dead bodies, peeling at skin and muscle, and feeding its face greedily. The man held his pistol up to the Stiff's head and fired. It made a soft, dull sound and the Stiff collapsed. He circled around to the second Stiff and repeated the same procedure.

"Damn vermin," the man muttered. "Go back to Hell."

He slowly revolved around, holding his pistol out and I ducked back into the brush. Satisfied, the man turned and left. I waited a few moments before I emerged and approached the pile of Stiff bodies.

The tunnels were the human safe zone. They had guards and silent weapons to protect themselves from the Stiffs. And if I had even gotten a few steps closer, I would have been shot and added to the pile. If I had led, as Morgan suggested, I would have been killed.

I groaned.

That's why zombies can never trust humans, Joe.

At that moment I doubted there was even a burial ground, and if there was, that I would stay conscious long enough for a human to die in order to get its brain. I couldn't trust anything that Morgan had said. Everything she had done had been to get back here. She had never wanted me to survive. How could she? I was a zombie. She was a human. The two could never coexist. I clenched my jaw, my expression uneven. Just like everyone else, Morgan had only been thinking of herself. She could never have cared about me anymore than a sheep could care for a wolf. I don't know why I had expected or come to believe anything different. She was only human, after all.

The anger of her betrayal burned in my head as if some heavy outside force was weighing down on my brain. Humans. You can't live with them. You can't live without them.

I sat down across from the pile of Stiffs and dropped my head. I was trapped. I didn't know what to do. Trying to infiltrate the human safe zone with the way it was guarded was suicide. I could never return to Revenant. I had no preserves and nowhere to go.

I was the only Wake in Revenant who knew where the safe zone was and I was going to die with that knowledge.

I snapped open my eyes and gazed forward.

I could never have survived in the human safe zone. Morgan wouldn't have allowed me to. But she had led me to it. She had shown what no other Wake had ever seen.

There was hope. I wasn't dead yet.

They didn't deserve life. They hadn't earned it the way we had. Because we fought for it. Every day. Morgan would rather die than live with me in Revenant. But I wasn't going to die. Because I would always fight against it. That was the difference between her and me. The will to survive. Humans were weak, and zombies were the superior species. We deserved life. Not them. I deserved it more than Morgan because I wanted it more. And I would earn it.

I was a human tracker. And I had found the human safe zone.

I had to get back to Revenant.

## 31. ALMOST HOME

I hurried back the way I had come. I waited until I was a good distance from the sewer tunnels before I returned to the river and then I began running. Without the human to slow me down I could make much faster progress. I didn't know if I would last the whole trip, but with Morgan it had only taken me a little more than two days to reach the human safe zone. I could probably make it in at least half the time on my own, and if I avoided any confrontations I wouldn't skid as fast as I had.

I didn't have much of a plan in mind. But if I could convince Mayor Hillard that I knew where the safe zone was, he wouldn't kill me. He couldn't. Finding it was too important to the survival of Revenant.

I made it back to the bridge quickly. About a dozen Stiffs were wandering about the streets there. My footsteps drew their attention and they began to slowly meander after me. As I crossed the bridge I paused. I gazed down over the railing at Morgan's mud-covered body, lying peacefully where I had left it, covered in little white flowers. She seemed so innocent and helpless, like an angel dropped in the mud.

"Bitch," I muttered, and continued on.

I came to the edge of the forest and stopped. Dozens of Stiffs were wandering about the trees. The sun was bright in the sky, making the Stiffs fully awake and active. It would have been better to wait until night, but I couldn't. I didn't have that kind of time to spare. The other Stiffs were just behind me, walking with hurried steps.

I flipped the hood of my safety gear on, secured it, and then rushed forward. I dove between the bodies of two Stiffs and threw myself into the brush. Quickly the Stiffs were on me, giving chase. It was pointless to try to stay quiet. The slower I went the longer it would take me to get back, and during the day the Stiffs would still follow me, attracted by every twig snap and shuffle of leaves. I had to move as fast as possible, and having a horde of Stiffs on me could only help.

I broke through the forest, keeping close to the creek bed which was a quarter full of water now. Stiffs would appear from the trees suddenly. One would leap out at me, and if it wasn't for my safety gear would probably have pierced my skin. I was able to shove it aside without being deterred too much and I would continue on, repeating the same procedure for any other Stiffs that emerged and threw themselves on me.

At one point I was nearly taken down, as one Stiff caught me off guard and another that had been chasing me caught up to us. I managed to force the struggle to the edge of the creek bed and dumped one of the Stiffs inside. The other pinned me to the ground, shoving my head into the soft dirt while my hands reached out around its throat to prevent it from biting down.

My mind felt like it was going to explode then, and I all but wanted to give in and allow the Stiff to devour my brain. Then I thought of Morgan, and how she had betrayed me. How she had been setting me up the entire time to be killed by the humans guarding her home, and how she had manipulated me into caring for her, and to feel sorry for her. I remembered her arms around my waist and the soft embrace of her body against mine, and how all I had wanted to do at that moment was protect her. It was all a lie. My mind pulsed with the heat of her betrayal, and at my stupidity for caring for a deceitful, selfish human like her. I was glad that I had eaten her brain, and I wished that I had done so the first night I had encountered her, so that I would never have had to feel that betrayal.

My anger bolstered me, and I felt my strength return. I reached out blindly behind me with one hand, finally feeling for a log. I grabbed it and swung, knocking the Stiff off me. Then I stood and thrust the log into its head, again and again, until finally the skull cracked and the log splintered to pieces. I took a piece of the wood and jammed it through the skull, making sure to pierce the brain, and twisted. The other Stiffs were on us then, and I stood, picking up the Stiff's body, and tossed it at them. They were on the body like a pack of wild dogs, and I had no trouble escaping as dozens of them began falling upon the corpse, like a tide of the dead. That bought me a few minutes without a single Stiff attacking me, and I ran as fast as I could, rancor on my heels, giving chase the rest of the way.

The rest of the time I managed to avoid any further confrontations. Any other Stiffs that appeared I was able to toss aside without much trouble and keep running. The creek became my best friend as I manage to throw Stiff after Stiff into it, making it impossible for them to come after me. They would give chase, but being stuck down below in the creek bed and without having any idea of how to climb out, they couldn't reach me.

Evening came and the attacks became less frequent. It was welcome, as I felt myself starting to slow down. I was becoming weary by then and my arms and legs were starting to become stiff and heavy. I continued on as fast as I could manage despite my brain screaming at me that it needed rest. My vision was becoming blurred and after a while my focus ebbed and I couldn't remember what I was doing. I was running on instinct by the time I finally emerged from the forest, well after the moon had risen. I kept moving, afraid that if I stopped I would collapse and never make it back to Revenant.

I was practically dragging myself by the time I reached the gate surrounding my former town. I threw myself against it, exhausted, and clenched my fingers around the mesh. My brain felt like it was on fire, and my entire body was quaking. I didn't rest long. I couldn't. I carefully pulled myself over the gate, making much more noise than I wanted to. I had been out of Revenant for only three days, but it felt like an afterlifetime Hopefully the town had given up on finding me.

I fell down on the other side of the gate. I slowly drew myself up and leaned against the metal wire wall again to regain my balance. I felt incredibly dizzy. After a few minutes I began to slowly hobble away as Stiffs began to gather behind me, pressing up against the gate that separated us. I had to get back to square 1. There was only one person I could talk to who would hear me out, and that was my only chance to stay undead. But I couldn't walk back. My mind was shot. I was on the verge of shutting down and I needed rest. I stumbled to the bus stop and fell down on the bench. I pulled back the helmet of my safety gear and leaned back, waiting for the bus to arrive.

I did everything I could to keep myself from falling asleep. I knew if I did, I would probably skid, and I would never come out of it. I had to stay awake. I kept the thought of Morgan's betrayal in mind, her sad, desperate face gazing up at me, begging me to protect her, replaying it over and over again to try to keep my senses alive and aflame, like a never-ending film reel. When I felt like surrendering, and allowing the blackness of unconsciousness to envelop me, the thought of Morgan's betrayal stirred me to cognizance. I tried desperately to keep my eyes open. Even then, I felt myself drifting away, and I had to snap my brain back into action. It was more than a half hour before the bus arrived. I shuffled lifelessly onto it and fell onto the first seat, not having the energy to go any farther.

"Rough night?" the bus driver asked as he closed the bus doors and started the vehicle forward.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I said quietly, resting my head against the window and allowing the vibration to massage my aching head.

I was almost home.

I got off the bus at square 3 and made the trek back to square 1. I had almost lost consciousness a few times on the bus, but I had managed to snap out of it. Now I was dragging myself forward in a fog, my head tilted to the side as if too heavy for my neck to lift. I could feel myself beginning to skid. I was losing my ability to reason, and the thoughts of brains pervaded my mind, so every sound or movement I registered made me want to attack. I was desperate for even anything resembling a brain to soothe the pain in my head. Only the thought of Morgan's fear and anguish as I greedily devoured her brain gave me any life, filling the emptiness of my brain with the heaviness of vengeance.

I passed Trevor's mentor's farm. I could have gone there. Trevor would have protected me. But it wasn't safe. I couldn't trust his mentor and if she found out about me she would probably lock me up in the barn to skid until the authorities arrived. There was only one person I could rely on.

Morning was on the horizon as I came to my house, the sky purple and yellow, bathing the town in a dim brilliance. I fell against the front door and fumbled clumsily to turn the knob. Eventually I was able to slide open the door and I fell inward, collapsing on the wood floor. I crawled languidly toward the kitchen. I wasn't sure if my mentor was home. Sometimes he came back early, before dawn, if there weren't any signs of humans around. I didn't care. I just needed to get some brains before I passed out and skidded. Then I could explain everything to him. He would understand. He was a human tracker, like me. If he believed that I knew where the human safe zone was, he wouldn't let me die. He would put the good of the town first.

I slipped through the kitchen door and desperately pulled myself up, using the oven, which we almost never used, to help balance myself. I made a lot of noise, banging against the metal as I did. I drew myself carefully toward the chem dish, which contained three morsels of brain cortex. It was making me salivate. I pulled myself to the counter it sat on and reached out for it.

An arm came down and grabbed my wrist. I was spun around to gaze up at the face of my mentor.

"Zellner!" he said in a booming voice.

"Need t'eat," I mumbled, finding the words difficult to pronounce.

"I can't allow that," my mentor said. "You've been expelled. You stole the human and took it out of town. The Mayor wants you dead on sight. I can't protect you anymore, Zellner. I have to bring you in."

He pulled me forward forcibly.

"Wait," I said, trying to grab onto something, but not finding the strength to wrap my fingers around anything.

"I'm sorry, Zellner," my mentor was saying, but his voice was a haze in my head. A ringing edged his words, making them nearly inaudible. "You stole a human. It had to be reported. The council was unanimous in your condemnation. You shouldn't have come back. I don't know how you survived as long as you did. I'm sure you used the human for rations. We know you took the Kushner's rations. These are inexcusable crimes. I had so much hope for you at one time, Zellner. Now you've become this degenerate. You're a liability to the entire town. I'm sorry, son, but you can't be allowed to stay. Not everyone is cut out to be a Wake."

He was dragging me to the front door. I flailed my legs, but they barely moved, knocking lightly against the walls and tables and pounding softly at the floor as we passed.

My mentor wrapped his arms under mine and lifted me. He opened the front door and began to pull me out.

"The safe zone!" I cried, as boldly as I could.

He continued to drag me out of the house.

"I know where it is," I said distinctly, focusing on my words.

My mentor stopped. "What?"

I looked up at him, my neck limp and my head tilted back. "I know where the human safe zone is," I muttered, and closed my eyes. I was skidding. I felt myself losing consciousness.

My mentor grabbed my face in his hands and shook it. "What? Zellner! What did you say?"

I felt his words drifting away. I felt everything drifting away. Everything went dark and empty and life fell away into nothingness.

My eyes slowly opened. Morning light was pouring in from the windows over my face. I was in my room. Not much had changed. The old hum posters I had hung up were still there, and my crumpled clothes still littered the floor. I was lying on my bed. I sat up on my forearms and lifted my head. My brain still hurt, but not as much as before. The sweet bitter taste of brains lingered in my mouth. I looked toward my doorway. My mentor stood in it. He held a long bowie knife, one hand holding the handle, the other clenching the blade.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked as I regained my senses.

"No," my mentor said. "Not unless I have to."

He strode forward toward me and sat in a chair near the edge of my bed. "Were you telling the truth?"

I stared blankly at him.

"About the human safe zone," he continued. "Do you know where it is?"

I didn't speak. I was finding it difficult to voice the words.

"Zellner!" He suddenly reached out for me and grabbed the collar of my safety gear. "This is supremely important. This could save you! This could save the town!"

"Since when do you care about me?" I said, struggling to break from his grip. Who could I trust anymore? Humans? Wakes? They were all as untrustworthy as the Stiffs. It seemed like the only person I could count on this world was myself.

He released me and turned away. "I never didn't. But everything you did was so dangerous. I couldn't sweep it under the rug. I couldn't keep giving you chances. I did everything to protect you, Zellner. But you defied me. Once you stole the human, it was too dangerous to have you in Revenant. I was going out on a limb to protect you before, and you proved me wrong each and every time. I couldn't keep waiting for you to grow up. One bad zombie could destroy the whole town. It's nearly happened before."

His words were meaningless to me. Even when he had stood up for me he had known that I was as good as dead. If he had wanted to protect me, then why did he tell the Mayor? He knew that Hillard would never let me live. "It's true," I spoke firmly. "I know where the safe zone is."

"Where?" my mentor demanded.

"I won't say. Not until I know that I'm safe."

"I'll get the council to revoke the exile. And the expulsion," my mentor stated. "On the terms that we find the safe zone."

"I'll tell you," I said. "If I can come with you."

"What?"

"To the safe zone. To help capture it."

"It's too dangerous."

"Listen, I've killed I don't know how many Stiffs. I've lived in the forest for three days on my own and I'm the only one is the whole damn town that has ever even seen the safe zone! It's dangerous. But it's not too dangerous. If it was, I'd be dead. I'm a human tracker, sir. And I want to be a part of this."

My mentor adjusted the frames of his glasses on his nose. He cleared his throat. "Fine," he said.

"And I get to stay as your apprentice," I said. "I get to keep tracking humans."

My mentor gazed at me. Then he nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. "Very well, Zellner. Very well."

He reached behind him and placed the knife on the dresser. He stood over my bed and looked down at me. He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay, Zellner."

I pulled away from him. I couldn't trust him, or the humans, or the Mayor, or anyone in this town. I pulled myself off of my bed and stepped away from him. "Are we doing this or what?" I said, my back to him.

My mentor didn't respond directly. A few moments passed, and he cleared his throat. "Right, yes. Let's get ready. We've got a big day ahead. Get cleaned up, have another morsel. We have to speak to the Mayor first and get everything straightened out with the council. It's time to capture the human safe zone."

## 32. SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

We rolled to a stop outside the forest. We had to drive around the outskirts and come back around until we reached the river again. We began to idle over the wooden bridge, one vehicle at a time.

My mentor had taken me to the Mayor's office in zone C straightaway after I had gotten cleaned, dressed and had another brain snack. An emergency hearing was called, the situation was explained, and my mentor vouched for me, stating that I was not willing to divulge the location of the safe zone without immunity from exile and without being readmitted to school. The Mayor was less than thrilled to see me back in Revenant and still a Wake. He and the council conferred and after returning, grudgingly accepted the terms.

"If it turns out you are misleading me in anyway," the Mayor had said, "I will not only have you killed, but your mentor, your friend, and his mentor, as well. I hope you understand the gravity of the situation, Mr. Olander. One more mistake, and you will never be a Wake again."

I didn't respond. I didn't need to. The Mayor's threats no longer had any effect on me. As long as I was living in this town I would be at risk. Everyone would be, as long as Mayor Hillard ran things with an iron fist. But I had no choice. I had nowhere else to go, and he was in charge. I had learned a while ago that you can't fight the zombie man.

It was decided that an emergency human tracking expedition would be enacted the next day. A plan was quickly developed after I had surrendered the details of where and what the safe zone was. I wasn't sure if I agreed with the tactics of the campaign, but I wasn't really in a position to argue. Most of the town's vehicles were collected and all the available human trackers were brought in for the mission.

We had a few delivery trucks in town that we had brought along. My mentor drove one of them that rambled ahead as the lead. I sat with him on the passenger's side. A couple of other human trackers stood in the cab with us. My mentor drew the truck ahead first, circling a long way around to keep a distance from the guards at the sewer tunnels and coming around to the opposite side of them.

The plan was pretty simple. The first step was to take out the guards. Two human trackers from our truck, suited up in the most advanced tracking gear, which was like SWAT armor and helmets that had been salvaged by our town, went ahead, moving carefully toward the platform where the guards were. My mentor and I watched carefully from the truck as they slowly progressed like lionesses stalking prey, my mentor gazing through a pair of binoculars. The two guards were positioned against each other with rifles, gazing in opposite directions. It would be difficult to sneak up on them. Fortunately, our human trackers were well trained. They crept through the trees and moved silently over the platform above the sewer tunnels. A few minutes later they flew through the copse and attacked the two guards, lassoing them around their necks and quickly disarming them without allowing them to fire a shot from their weapons. It was amazing. These guys really knew how to track humans.

Once the humans were disabled, the trackers signaled the okay to my mentor and he idled the truck forward. He slowly and as quietly as possible drove the truck into the channel, down the cement slopes, positioning it with the back facing the tunnels. The truck scraped and squealed as it dropped into the channel, but it wasn't too loud. My mentor put it in park and he and I got out. We went to the back and unlatched the bay of the delivery truck.

"Ready?" my mentor looked at me.

I clenched the bag close to my chest and nodded.

He threw open the door to the bay and it flew up, rattling loudly. The Stiffs inside immediately turned toward the noise. There were dozens of them, collected from inside the Stockade before we departed.

"Go, Zellner!" my mentor instructed.

I ripped open the bag and held it out in front of me. The Stiffs began to pile forward over each other, leaping out of the truck and chasing after me. I sprinted ahead toward the tunnels and tossed the bag of Stiff bait inside, then pressed to the side of the wall and stood still. The Stiffs went after the bait without hesitation, pouring into the tunnels of the human safe zone.

The other trucks began to pull up along either side of the sewer tunnels and the human trackers emerged, swarming toward the concrete channel. The plan was going perfectly. Use the Stiffs from the Stockade to disorder and disarm the humans and to draw them out of the sewer, and then capture them.

Snarls and human cries of panic echoed out toward us. It was only a few moments before the first set of humans dashed through the tunnels into the channel, racing wildly with terror and bewilderment. The human trackers were quick, lassoing them with their stick snares and drawing them to the trucks to throw them inside. Others caught them by hand and simply tossed them into a truck. Whether they were infected or not didn't matter. The more humans captured the better.

The humans were attempting to escape from the channel, scrambling up the angled cement walls, but the trackers were experts, chasing most of them down and drawing them to the trucks, and many waited at the top of the channel for any that did manage to break out. It was exhilarating. I stood and watched with astonishment.

"Zellner!" my mentor said. He held out a handled snare to me. "Go on, son! We need all the help we can get."

The humans were drawing their weapons, guns and knives, to try to defend themselves, but the tracking gear helped protect us and we overpowered them pretty fast. The humans were mostly confused and frightened, trying to flee from the Stiffs as the trackers converged on them.

A boy, a few years younger than me, sprinted toward me. I clenched the rod in my hand. I flicked the handle and caught the boy around his neck, tightening the noose instantly. He fell in a clump on the ground and cried out. I put my foot to his chest and ordered: "Hey, shut up!" But he didn't. He kept crying and crying. I shook my head and drew him forward. The boy wouldn't stand, instead allowing himself to be dragged across the pavement. I drew him to the truck and, picking him up, unleashed the snare, and tossed him in. The boy instantly attempted to scramble out and as he did my mentor, having just thrown in a hum catch of his own, caught him with one arm and with the other deftly drove a knife from his belt into each leg. The boy screeched in agony, grabbing helplessly at his injured legs. I observed this action with unease.

"It's better to disable them so they can't run off," my mentor explained quickly, tossing the boy back inside the truck. He held the knife out to me. "Go on, Zellner, take it. This is what you were awakened for."

I nodded dully and accepted the knife. My mentor nodded once firmly at me and then spun around and sprinted back into the melee. I turned and walked slowly across the pavement. Humans sprinted all around me in a frenzy, crying out and shrieking in horror. I felt dazed. I couldn't figure out if what we were doing was right. I knew we had no choice. I knew it was the only way to survive. But I didn't know if it was right. It seemed so inhumane. The vapid sound of my unbeating heart hummed in my ears. I suddenly felt like I was in a dream or a nightmare.

A girl about my age when I had died sprinted toward me. Her face etched in my vision and memory. She had long black hair that flailed behind her, and her long, thin face was stretched in an expression of terror and bewilderment. I didn't think. I reacted to instinct. I rushed forward and drove my shoulder into her, knocking her onto the pavement. She collapsed lifelessly as I approached her with mechanic steps and kneeled over her body. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at me, her face agony. "Please! Please don't! Don't hurt me!" she cried, holding her open palms over her face. She seemed so desperate. "I'll do whatever you want! Please!" Humans would say anything to escape.

I bent down over her and carefully studied her face. She looked so innocent, so scared, so weak. She reminded me so much of Morgan. The look of abject, pleading terror mirrored the expression I had seen splashed over Morgan's countenance so many countless times. It was like something that humans had taught each other, as if that look could rescue them from any fate. She was like all the humans. Her face spoke to who she was better than her words. She was so weak and fragile. She was just like Morgan. She wasn't meant to survive. I clenched my jaw and drove a knife into each of her legs, slicing into her flesh. Blood began pouring out and she screamed shrilly. I dragged her across the pavement by her shirt and tossed her into the truck with the rest of the human stock.

It went on. We caught, disabled, and captured human after human from the sewer tunnels. Legs were slashed by knife and sword, and backs broken by wooden clubs, as the humans were disabled enough to survive the return trip with their brains fully functional. Those that didn't emerge were left to face off with the Stiffs in the confines of the sewer. Those that were smart and quick enough to flee the tunnels were captured by the human trackers. A few managed to escape, scattering off into the forest or the streets. It wasn't worth it to go after them. The Stiffs mainly stayed in the sewers. Any that stumbled out were quickly disposed of. A few Wakes were damaged. Our gear was strong, but there were plenty of projectiles being fired by the rabid humans. There weren't any casualties though. We had planned too well for that.

Within an hour hundreds of humans had been captured and corralled inside the trucks. It was incredible. It was the most humans I had ever seen in one place. When it was finished, only the Wakes who had come on the mission remained standing. The Stiffs were either dead or chasing frantic humans down sewer passages. The gray walls and floor were splashed with blood, and only a few bodies, including a small percentage of human casualties who had been too much of a threat, littered the ground of the cement channel. The only living things left were us. The Wakes. We were the only ones left standing when the hunt was complete. The trackers locked up the trucks against the wailing and moaning of the humans and began congratulating each other.

My mentor embraced me around my shoulders. "Well done, Zellner!" he cried. "Very well done!"

I nodded dumbly. I gazed at my trembling hand, clenching the bloody blade I had accepted from my mentor. These humans would be our fodder, the source of our continued existence. We had been just like them once, a long time ago, and in some ways we were still like them. Dead and alive were just labels, and yet the difference between them were so significant. We were stronger. We deserved life more than they did. We had earned it. I had earned it.

For a moment I felt guilty, and I knew none of what had just happened was anything to be proud of. It wasn't right. But that was just a word. It didn't mean anything. Morgan's right ended with my death. Righteousness was in the eye of the beholder. There was no right or wrong. There was only choice. And I had made mine. I was alive.

"We did it, Zellner!" my mentor cheered. "You did it."

I did it. The human safe zone had been captured. The humans had been driven out and secured. And Revenant's human famine was ended. We had captured them. The zombie race had prevailed.

We would survive.

## ZOMBILOGUE

"I have to say it. Today is a glorious day to be a zombie!" Mayor Hillard crowed before the assembled crowd in the center of zone C.

Applause and an uproar of delight followed his opening statement. I stood to his right on the wooden stage that had been set up for the occasion, my mentor on his opposite side, gazing out at the mass of Wakes that had gathered for the celebration.

Jubilation had spread through the town once it had been revealed that we had finally captured the human safe zone. A week later we were commemorating the occasion. The council had been true to their word, and when it got out that I was the one who had discovered the human safe zone and about everything I had gone through, I had sort of become a local celebrity. Even Mrs. Kushner forgave me with relative ease. She had more humans on her farm than she knew what to do with, and was trying to petition the council to bring in another apprentice to join Trevor to help her with the load.

Trevor was excited to see me back and undead. He had thought for sure I hadn't made it, and even if I had, that he would never see me again. He wanted to know all the details of what had happened and I had to regale him and the other kids from school several times with the entire story. It was pretty thriller. I wasn't used to being the popular kid in town. But I tried not to let the fame go to my head. I could have just as easily been dead right now if things hadn't gone exactly right. As it was, I was sort of thought of as the zombie kid who saved Revenant. Things were so much worse than the council had let on, and it was really lucky that I had found the location of the safe zone when I had. If I hadn't, I don't know what would have happened to the town.

"Thanks to this, shall we say, headstrong young zombie from zone A," Mayor Hillard continued, motioning toward me without looking, his eyes still locked on the crowd and his mouth glutted with a toothy smile, "we were able to pull off the most successful human tracking expedition in our town's history, no doubt served by the experience and aptitude of the Wake leading it, Bill Barton."

Another roar of applause. My mentor nodded once in recognition, and I opted for the less humble approach, raising my hands into the sky as if to absorb the collective adulation, a sloppy grin pasted to my face.

"With the capture of the human safe zone, Revenant has secured its future for a long time to come," Mayor Hillard announced, again to a bevy of applause. He waited for the crowd to quiet. "But that doesn't mean that we should get complacent. Human brains are still a rare commodity in this day and age, and until we have a firm, time-tested method of replenishing them, rations is still the name of the game."

The crowd looked a little disconcerted with this message. Why shouldn't they? They had been living on rations when the town had less than fifty humans corralled for breeding. Now it was brimming with hundreds of them. Somehow, without saying it, Mayor Hillard had given the impression that capturing the human safe zone would solve all the town's problems. But they had no idea how bad things had really been, and how few rations were left before I discovered the safe zone. Mayor Hillard was content to leave them in the dark, and what choice did I have but to keep quiet myself? If I caused any sort of dissension, he would quickly have me sentenced to the Stockade, and I was pretty sure I had used up my allotment of luck for the rest of my death.

"I thought having the human safe zone meant we didn't need rations!" a voice shot from the crowd. A cheer of agreement rose up around him.

"You said everything would change when we found the safe zone!" another voice, and another wave of support.

Mayor Hillard raised his hands to the crowd, spreading his long, thin fingers and pressing his palms flat against the air as if to hold back the umbrage. "Now, now. My dear Wakes of Revenant, nothing comes all at once, and we must be patient. Until the breeding programs have been fully established and we have a steady supply of fodder being produced we cannot afford to surrender the current system."

A low mumble of uncertainty responded.

"Now, it's as I've always said," Mayor Hillard announced, pressing the tips of his fingers together. "Living death has a price. And we all have a contribution to make. We must continue to serve one another and not be divided. Division leads to mutiny and mutiny to anarchy! We must be united, Wakes of Revenant! We cannot falter. Not when we are on the precipice of prosperity!"

A murmur of doubt, followed by slow ripple of applause, and then cheers of adulation. The Mayor grinned widely. It was amazing how his words could change so much without changing anything at all.

"I thank each and every Wake for coming out today. Please enjoy the flesh food we have provided free of charge, and enjoy yourselves! I promise you – change is coming in Revenant! If we stay united and work together we will survive. Revenant will survive!"

The crowd applauded voraciously again, and slowly began to disperse as Mayor Hillard vacated the stage. My mentor shook hands with him, congratulating him on a well-delivered speech. They spoke for a few moments before the Mayor descended the steps of the stage. I approached my mentor from behind as he gazed forward toward the crowd.

"We don't have enough humans to give up rationing, do we?" I asked seriously.

He turned and gazed questioningly at me. "What do you mean, Zellner?"

"We can't change human biology," I replied. "It's going to be a year before breeding the humans we captured will even produce any fodder, isn't it? That's how long it takes humans to give birth."

"I didn't think you knew anything about human biology," my mentor said.

"Trevor told me," I admitted. "It'll be almost a year before the new stock even starts producing. And there are more Wakes in town then there are humans. I mean, I'm no mathematics apprentice, but it doesn't add up, does it? In a year we'll have maybe one new hum for every two we have now. That's, what? A week's supply of brains for the entire town? Maybe two? And the rations we had before we captured the safe zone wouldn't have lasted us through the year. That was your estimate. We don't have enough time to get the breeding program going before we use up the rest of the town's rations. Do we?"

My mentor sighed. "Finally using that brain of yours," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Things aren't as bad as you make them."

"Well, they sure as hell aren't as good as the Mayor makes them!" I shot back.

My mentor bobbed his head to the side. "Perhaps not. But we've been here before, and we survived, one way or the other. We will again."

"How?" I demanded. It didn't seem possible. There were too many zombies, too few humans, and not enough time to even things out. We were supposed to be the dominant race. We were supposed to be the ones deserving of life. Why did it seem like we were the ones scraping and clawing to survive? The truth was that without humans, zombies couldn't exist. We needed them, not the other way around.

"I'm sure Mayor Hillard will be able to give you a more suitable answer," my mentor said, extending his hand in the Mayor's direction. "After all, I'm just a human tracker. That's my contribution. Government and leadership, that's his."

My mentor stepped away from me and bounced down the steps of the stage. I exhaled, glaring in the direction of the Mayor. What answers did he have for me? Everything he said was a lie, or at the best, a half-truth. Everything I had been taught in zombie school had been with the intent to manipulate me and to make me believe what he wanted me to believe. Humans are evil, zombies are the new dominant race. The truth was much more complex than that. That was the truth that we wanted to believe, just as the truth the humans wanted to believe was that they would survive. It was the truth that any race, any person, wants to believe. I will survive. The real truth was something else, and Mayor Hillard knew it.

I bounded toward the Mayor, interrupting a conversation with one of his constituents. He looked toward me with a surprised expression. "Zellner! What can I do for you, my boy?"

"I want to know the truth," I said, picking my words carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"We aren't going to survive, are we?"

He gazed at me quizzically. "Of course we are! Thanks to you, and your mentor. You're a real hero!"

He went to pat me on the back and I quickly swerved away, tossing aside his hand with the flick of my arm. He looked at me sternly. "We don't have enough rations," I said plainly. "They don't know that, but I do," I said in a harsh whisper.

Mayor Hillard laughed lightly and turned from me, asking the civilian Wake to give him a few moments. He obliged, taking his leave. The Mayor turned to look at me once more, his teeth clenched and his face stern. "We have enough to survive," he said, the geniality suddenly erased from his tone, replaced with a heavy austerity.

"Not long enough," I replied.

"There are ways of making them last, Zellner. We've done it before."

"How?"

"That is being decided still," the Mayor replied. "You will know when the other Revenant citizens do, don't worry."

"You're so full of shit," I seethed.

He glared at me. Then his arm darted out and he grasped me tightly around the side of my neck, clenching his hand firmly around it. "Don't test me, Zellner," he said sternly, his smile ever-present as always. "You should be in the Stockade at this moment. You were given a reprieve, and you were fortunate that it worked out. But I will not have any more dissension in my town. Break the laws of this town again, and I will not hesitate to revoke the rights given to you as a citizen of Revenant. Is that understood?"

He slowly released his grip from my neck. I swallowed as imperceptibly as possible. "What happens when the rations run out?" I asked carefully.

"I won't allow that to happen. I promise you."

"There's not enough for everyone," I said. "You know that."

"Never mind, Zellner. That's not your concern. We will survive. It's my job to see to that. Your contribution is education. Learning your craft. Do you understand? You see to that. I'll take care of the town. I will do whatever it takes to ensure its survival. Living death has its price."

He stood erect and turned from me. He paused and glanced back. "Tread carefully, Zellner. You know the perils this town faces better than most. If you want to survive, I suggest very strongly that you tread carefully. Dissension will not be tolerated."

He stepped lightly away from me. I stared ahead blankly, uncertainly. I didn't know much about anything then. I didn't know if it was right to kill and eat humans. I didn't know if zombies deserved life. I didn't know if Revenant would even last the year. But I knew I wanted to survive. That's all I knew.

"Yo, Zell! Come on!" Trevor called to me across the square. I turned to look in his direction. He was standing at a long buffet table, scooping up the various meals the government had provided to its citizens to celebrate the capture of the human safe zone. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the school kids and adults were having a great time, sharing stories and enjoying the flesh food. Trevor waved me over and I approached slowly, sidling up next to him. As I did, he offered me a hum-burger, and I bit ravenously into it, enjoying the taste of blood on my lips and tongue.

"Man, this is the life, huh, Zell?" Trevor asked as he picked up a fried finger from his plate and began to nibble on it around the bone. "This is how zombie life is supposed to be!"

I nodded my unspoken consent dumbly. This was zombie life as it was intended. This is how I had thought things would be once the human safe zone was captured. I think that's how all the Wakes in town thought it would be. I guess the Mayor thought one day of it was enough to make us forget that he had promised us forever. He was probably right.

"Things are going to be a lot different now, huh, Zell?" Trevor asked as he finished the last finger on his plate.

I stared knowingly at him. I contemplated telling him the truth, but Trevor could never keep a secret, and the last thing I wanted to do was put him in danger of being committed to the Stockade. It was better he didn't know. Maybe it was better that none of them knew, and at that moment, I wished I didn't either. Everyone looked so happy and excited, like they didn't have a care in the world. They were so certain of their future. "Yeah," I replied finally.

"Come on, man, let's go play some flag football. Big Jake and them are starting a game," Trevor said, dropping his plate on the table. He turned to dart away, then he turned back to look at me. He extended his arm for me to connect mine with. "You coming?"

I wasn't much in the mood for games, to be honest.

"You'd better go ahead, Zellner," my mentor said, a few paces ahead of us in line at the buffet. "School starts up again next week. You won't have much time for games with all that studying you'll be doing."

I sighed. I didn't want to think about school right now. I didn't want to think about anything. I was a teenage zombie. It wasn't my job to worry about rations and survival. That wasn't my contribution, and quite frankly, I didn't want it to be. Zombies, humans, rations, life, death – that was all way over my head. I didn't want to think of any of that. I connected my arm with Trevor's. "Thriller!" he cheered, and we ran out toward the park together.

I didn't want to think about anything at the moment. Not school, the town, the Mayor, or Morgan.

With the radiance of the sun warming my cold, dead skin, and the taste of fresh blood and warm flesh in my mouth, I was just grateful to be living dead.

