Collapse, Tales of the Zombie Chronicles

By Mark Clodi

Collapse. It represents the end of one society and the beginning of another. What happens when the zombies come?

The four stories in this volume are set in the ‘Zombie Chronicles’ universe, where the zombies don’t stay mindless, shambling adversaries. Instead they grow smarter, faster and stronger as they feed on the flesh of the living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Clodi
• Release date: Dec 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452484808

Mark Clodi

Mark Clodi (born March 30th, 1969) is the author of many zombie apocalypse novels and short stories. At an early age Mark was hooked on fantasy and the pulp fiction of the 'Golden Age of Science Fiction'. While moving around the mid-west with his parents he continued to feed his frenzied reading by buying fiction at yard sales and utilizing the local libraries. The thought of actually becoming a writer struck him at an early age, but he never followed through on his dream until he was much older and well established in his chosen career as a computer programmer. His writing started one day while trading emails back and forth with Mike Keleman, the co-author of his first book. They started assigning chapter numbers to the emails and the rest, as they say, is history.He lives in a small town smack-dab in the middle of Iowa (U.S.A.) tinkering with story ideas, knocking back the occasional rum and pondering his life choices.

Book preview

The First Zombie

Chapter 1

The radio was on as Doctor Thomas Sentry pulled out of his garage and headed into the lab. Hurricane Zelda is expected to make landfall tomorrow night, crossing the southern tip of Florida and tearing up Cuba again. It has been a heck of a season and the people of south Florida are going into the frying pan after getting out of the fire from Yvonne two weeks ago. Thankfully music replaced the droning weather commentary, some U2 song about global warming.

The good doctor was a middle aged man, just south of forty years old and he looked it. His hairline was receding rapidly and what he had was kept cut short using a set of ancient hair clippers in his own bathroom. Thomas ate sporadically and was skinny, not a healthy thin work was his life blood and pleasure such as fine food and drink were consumed only when meeting with those who had money to fund his project. When he was in the confines of his home he wore gold framed thin glasses, however on days he worked in the clean part of the lab, like today, he work contact lenses that seemed to make his light brown eyes a shade darker. He would almost be handsome; at six feet tall he had the height to be a leading man, were it not for his pale, almost vampiric skin color.

Dr. Sentry grinned to himself, thinking about how he was going to change everything about global warming very soon. If his experiment worked, and he was sure it would, the human race was going to be entering a new phase of its existence. His cell phone rang, playing 'Ring of Fire' by Johnny Cash; he answered it halfway through humming the song in his mind.

Hello?

Dr. Sentry? Where are you? asked Doctor Heather Wilkins, his assistant and second in command at the lab.

On my way in, everything go well last night?, he asked.

Yes doctor, as planned no mutations at all. It is stable Doctor! You know what this means?

We are going to be very rich?

Hm, yes well that too, but the trial can proceed. We've got a volunteer prepped and waiting, Vic Launders. He won the draw of the three of them. He is pretty excited about it too. A chance to outlive his sentence. A chance to start over.

Yes, yes, I can't stand the man myself, but he is the ideal candidate, I admit. He is ready now?

I am only waiting for you Doctor, I thought you deserved to make the injection yourself.

I look forward to it. I will be there in ten minutes; can you wait that long Heather?

Of course, Tom! But hurry!

The Lazarus laboratory (incorporated), had been funding Dr. Sentry's work for nine years, a long wait to get to this point, where human trials could begin. The work was an open secret in the science world, completely funded by private donations to seek out the reasons for and to stop the aging process. The first phase called for three volunteers. The local prison had a wide variety of candidates, so the company had set up some criteria to weed some people out. Unfortunate it was not a coed prison so the volunteers were all men. First the volunteers had to be as non-violent as possible, second they had to have been sentenced to more years in prison than they could conceivably live and they had to agree that they would get no consideration from the program in regards to their volunteer work. These criteria were in addition to not on medications currently and that they had to be in fair or better health.

If the treatment worked they would serve their remaining sentence completely. In Vic's case he was the least violent of the three prisoners, he had assaulted an officer when he was being arrested on securities fraud charges, but he had no prior record. The evidence of his fiduciary malfeasance was overwhelming, he was found guilty of a variety of crimes using money that was supposed to be invested in solid, low interest, low risk funds and that was actually used to fund, among other things, importing drugs from South American companies.

The exceptional thing in his case was that he did not lose any money for his clients, they all made the safe, stable, rate of return he had guaranteed them. Vic, on the other hand, made hundreds of millions, he was too successful and that is how he was caught. Sentenced to almost one hundred and twenty years of non-consecutive time in prison the man had jumped at the opportunity to live forever. The rumors that Vic had some money stashed away were all too true as well, he had shunted close to fifty million dollars into Doctor Sentry's private accounts (all well hidden) to assure himself a place in the top three candidates. This small complication could probably be traced back to Vic if the man wanted to do so, but if he did he would be revealing that he did indeed hide money away when he had denied it at his trial.

'Such is the price of doing business these days', thought Thomas, who planned on using the money to continue his efforts if his funding were ever cut. Making sure Vic was the number one candidate took almost no effort on Thomas's part, while it was a risk, if the man died, it also would not be a terrible blow either. If Vic died during the testing the money he had given Sentry would have complication removed from it, if he lived the experiment would be a success. A win either way.

Ten minutes later he pulled past the security guards at the front gate and into the parking garage at the lab. Working every day for the past two and a half years, driving from his garage to the company garage had made the good doctor pale; he could not even remember the last time he had gone outside for anything other than a perfunctory trip across the parking lot to go into a grocery store. Dr. Sentry had a maid who used a food allowance to buy most things, but she came down firmly on the side of natural foods, so periodically the doctor had to visit the store himself to buy a secret stash of junk food and real coffee and non-organic cream. If the maid had not been so accommodating in dealing with Dr. Sentry's physical needs he would have replaced her. Now it seemed like too much bother to interview and seduce another maid to take her place.

As he got out of his car and headed towards the employee entrance of the secured building he passed another guard station.

Good morning Doctor Sentry. said Gabe the head of security who had been here the last seven years. Gabe was an older man, in his mid-fifties; he had no weight on him except for a small beer belly. Gabe's head had less hair than that of the good doctor, and his was a silver gray color too. The man squinted a bit when he read, but wore no glasses, only a crisp, clean uniform with a massive looking pistol in a holster on his belt.

G'morning Gabe! Thomas called as he moved by, Gotta big day ahead of me in the lab, it should be earth shattering, if all goes as planned.

Glad to hear it, let me know when you need an old fart like me to test on. Gabe said. Gabe, having risen to the head of security knew what the goal of the company was, even if he didn't understand how it was supposed to come about.

Will do Gabe, I think I am close.

Good. And good luck today too.

Although he did not believe luck would play a role in today's test, he nodded jovially at the guard. Gabe was a big believer in luck and the man could have been a professor of ancient Egyptian civilizations, had he chosen to be. The man could speak for hours, or semesters, about the long dead deities and seemed fascinated in particular about their creation myths. The Egyptian Og-doad was his specialty within the overarching myths and culture. Sentry had made the mistake of thinking the security guard just had a cursory knowledge of the subject, so he had boned up on trivia about the field and started a conversation with Gabe one day. That day turned into a night of drinking and philosophizing in Thomas's office, with both men coming away with a profound respect for the other. Gabe was no doctor, at least not of medicine, however he should have been a professor and the mere bachelor's degree he held in anthropology was far beneath his actual knowledge in the field.

Thomas went through the second door as Gabe buzzed it open and was met there by Heather; she had a clip board in her hand and was, in Thomas eyes, giddy. She was hopping from foot to foot, rocking back and forth excitedly.

Doctor Wilkins suffered that curse of most middle aged woman; she was losing the battle of the bulge. Her sandy blond hair was also thinning already and she wore it long and usually kept it tied back behind her head and out of the way. With her sharp blue eyes and almost perfect height of five foot six she had probably been a knockout in her early twenties. Thomas, as wrapped up in his work as he was, didn't know if she were married, had kids or virtually anything else about her except that she was an exceptional researcher, not just his right hand, but his right arm. The thought of asking about her outside life had never occurred to Dr. Sentry.

Today is going to be the day. I know it. Heather said.

Of course, it is not like we haven't put our time in, is it?

The sacrifices are worth it. Everlasting life, it will make the last eight years look like nothing. Especially when we are a thousand years old. What will eight years be to us then?

Of course there will be other complications; eternal life is not necessarily one free from disease or hardship. We will have more time to deal with those problems, I hope. Let’s get cleaned up and I will meet you in room one in five minutes.

Thomas Sentry moved into the men's room that led into the clean room, while Heather moved into the women's room to do the same thing. Despite having showered and shaved at home he followed procedure to the letter and again stripped naked, washed completely with an anti-bacterial soap, then slathered on an alcohol based sterile gel before stepping into the second half of the room to have it rinsed off by a separate water supply and then be blown dry by hundred and twenty degree heat. Finally he moved to the clothing room and picked up his gowns and his internal security badge to wear before stepping into the clean room. Once there he waited only a few moments for Heather to come out and join him. Once they were in the lab proper they moved down the hall to room one, where Vic was already prepped and ready.

Chapter 2

Hiya docs! Vic said to them as they entered room one. The man was Caucasian, stood about five foot ten inches tall and was fit, not just thin. His skin was still somehow brown, as if he had just come in from the beach. His hands stood out due to his long fingers, perfect for making transfers using a keyboard and computer. The top of his head sported a choppy prison haircut that didn't do his glossy brown hair justice. His almond colored eyes seemed to size up everyone he met, getting there measure instantly. The man always seemed to be looking for angles, for edges, ways to turn any situation to his advantage.

The room he was in was square with a single door leading into the hallway in the clean section. There were large rectangular windows set into two walls, one was towards the clean room side, looking into the hallway, the other opened into the main part of the building into an observation room, which was currently crowded with assistants and other people who had helped get the project to this point. Curtains hung on both walls in front of the windows and in both cases they were fully opened, allowing view into and out of the room.

Vic was, by requirement, handcuffed to the stainless steel bed and his ever present guard was there as well. The bed had to be custom made and sterilized after the decision to use prisoners had been finalized. That was one of the pains of dealing with Vic 'Half Billion' Launders, the state required he be handcuffed and supervised at all times. The office had three cells, the equivalent of solitary confinement cells, one for each prisoner. The cells were not in the clean section of the building and the clinic was actually certified as a private prison with a head count of three. This had meant the addition of several employees just to keep watch on the prisoners and to see for their care; however this was far better than having to wait for transportation to and from the prison every day. Vic had already served six months of his sentence at Lazarus offices, the man's only comments about the arrangement were to say the food was better and he liked having a cable television to himself.

Thomas moved up to Vic's side and said, So today is the big day? Are you ready?

I was ready three months ago. I know you have to keep asking me, but I am ready, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Good. said Thomas, I do need to remind you that you can cancel this volunteer duty at any time up to my injecting you with the formula..., looking at a monitor he read off the series number out loud, series thirteen point two four three 'F' six 'A'. Do you agree to be injected with this drug for experimental reasons? Understanding that the consequences could range from absolutely nothing on one extreme to your death on the other?

Yes, I do. Get on with it doc. said Vic.

Formalities Vic, we have to follow procedure.

I understand that, what is next then?

The injection.

Vic nodded. Finally! Should I be lying down?

However you can relax the best. Now, as I have explained in prepping you for this procedure, you may not notice any effect from the treatment right away, it could be days or even weeks or months before we can tell scientifically that something has happened. It might be longer before we know what has happened, if the experiment was success or not.

I know. I understand that. said Vic as he hopped up on to the table and adjusted his gown over his legs. He waved at the other researchers and then lay back on the table. Heather moved forward and raised one armrest on the side and prepped Vic's arm, although technically already sterilized, she went through the motions again and then presented Thomas with a clean arm.

Heather had prepared the syringe before Thomas arrived that morning, almost as soon as she had known the culture of bio-medicine was functioning as designed. Thomas picked up the syringe and approached Vic's arm.

Ready? he asked one last time.

Do it. Vic said.

Thomas found a vein and injected the medicine into Vic's body. Stepping back, he asked, Any reactions?

No, nothing. Just like I was giving blood or getting a vaccination. No big deal at all.

Through the glass the muffles of a cheer was heard.

Looks like the geek squad is happy. turning towards them Vic gave them a halfhearted wave, Here I go a brave pioneer into worlds unknown, and you all made it possible, so you have my thanks. And you too doc, I know this is your baby.

'The man was a manipulator, no doubt he would have thanked his executioner before entering the gas chamber.' thought Thomas.

Heart rate increased. Heather called out.

Just the excitement of the big day, I bet. said Thomas.

They both watched as Vic's heart rate shot up, soon the man was laying back on the bed, with beads of sweat coming off of his forehead.

Doc, I ain't complaining, but I am not feeling so great right now.

Just relax Vic, an elevated heart rate does not mean much. Heather prepare the antidote. said Thomas.

Yes doctor Sentry. Heather said, her tone unreadable.

There is an antidote? asked Vic.

Of course. Thomas lied, You don't think we want something bad to happen to you. The treatment and the chemical to stop its progress were developed at the same time. This was not a literal truth, the 'antidote', in theory could only stop further changes from being made, it could not reverse any damage caused up until it was used.

So I am going to be okay?

Yes Vic, you are going to be fine.

Heart rate backing down. Heather droned tonelessly.

See? Just nerves. You sit tight and think happy thoughts. There is no pain, right?

No. I feel a little uncomfortable. More tired than anything.

You feel tired? Vic the treatment is fundamentally changing the way your body works, I think you will feel a little tired, at the very least. Now we are not going anywhere, today is all about monitoring you and getting your feedback on what is happening to you, so keep talking, okay?

Vic's guard shifted his feet, giving Thomas a strange look with his eyes above his surgical mask. That look spoke volumes. Vic had gotten to the guard. Somehow. The man subverted everyone around him, as Thomas could well attest to. Thomas would have to investigate the link later, to find out what deal the two had made, no doubt it was some sort of safety measure to make sure Thomas didn't get away free and clear in the event of Vic's death. People like Vic did things like that, or so Thomas suspected, another thing he should have anticipated. The guards name was Gabe, if Thomas remembered correctly, something personal could tell him.

Other than the brief heart racing right after the injection Vic seemed fine through the morning. At lunch they had to bring Vic out of the clean area, it was not possible to stay in the sterilized environment for too long, human needs required breaks for defecation and eating, needs even Doctor Sentry was not immune to. Heather had departed to her office to get a few hours of sleep mid-morning, once Vic's heart rate had dropped back to normal. She was not due to return until six that evening, Thomas knew he would see her before then, just as he knew he would not be going home that evening either.

Vic's lunch was simple, plain even, however an hour after eating it, he vomited it all up. There was no nausea preceding the event, he just leaned over and threw up onto the floor of his room. Thomas called for some broth and crackers to be brought in and checked the man's vital statistics against those they had taken from him over the last few months. They were low. Nowhere near dangerously low, but lower than expected. The afternoon passed and Vic kept down the small amount of broth and crackers he had been given. True to form Heather showed up by four and Thomas took a brief break around that time to take care of his own food needs from the company kitchens. Most of the fellow researchers had gone home by four thirty, four of the crew had been scheduled late to help with monitoring or clean up as the evening warranted.

Vic ate little of the meal brought to him by the staff; however he kept what he did eat down. His vital signs continued their slow decline and eventually Thomas was beckoned out into the hallway by Heather to discuss the situation.

He is degrading mentally. Heather began without preamble.

I have noticed, he cannot carry on a conversation anymore. The 'antidote' would do him no good now, the damage is done. Heather knew this, but for once in his life Dr Sentry was at a loss of words.

Heather noted the uncharacteristic blurb and said, I know that doctor, but if his vital signs keep dropping he is going to die. We have to plan for that.

How do we plan for that? If the subject dies the state will yank the others back, the work of years will be down the drain, it will be the loss of....everything we have worked for.

Vic had no documented health problems. Could there be something we missed? A heart condition perhaps? Heather began.

Grasping at the straw she was insinuating Thomas said, Perhaps. Can we do this?

This will work. Heather said referring to the treatment, I know it will work. We have to salvage what we can and move on. I won't waste another decade of my life to rebuild when we can continue. I won't and I don't think we have to.

Thomas thought about what she was saying, then nodded, Would a review support that finding?

Absolutely. It is a blind spot in the tests we administered. Something we didn't think to test for and the drug had an...unforeseeable reaction with his condition. Had we known we would have accounted for it, or used another subject.

Doctor Sentry's eyes widened as he mentally went over the procedures they had used to screen candidates. Doctor Wilkins had left the 'hole' in their screening on purpose, no doubt for just such an occasion as this one. You! he began, his temper rising, the 'hole' could be the first of many and without strict control they had a more difficult time predicting the outcome of the treatment. You did this on purpose!

Shush Doctor. I have no idea what you are talking about. It is only now, that I realize I...we, should have been more cognizant of what the medications could do to someone with a possible heart condition. Her eyes held the look of innocent, Now that I have said the words you will need to repeat to review board I suggest you do things, first alter the formula so it will not kill our subjects and second show a little god damned gratitude that I am as dedicated to this project as you are.

But the holes you left in the screening are there! They are holes! The test subjects could react wildly to the...

Heather raised her index finger and placed it over Doctor Sentry's lips, pressing them closed. It was the first time since he shook her hand at her interview that they had touched. By necessity that is the case. You are not so foolish to actually believe that such a condition would cause the failure of our procedure are you? Or are you telling me that your formula will leave out a large minority of the people of the world who will be clamoring for it?

Thomas, felt the air go out of his argument, what Heather said was true; an existing heart condition would have very little impact on any part of the procedure's process. They could slant it that way and continue the research after one explainable failure or he could move his operations elsewhere and start using the money Vic gave him. Although he had no particular attachment to money, he was loathe to spend his own until he absolutely needed to. He nodded his head, Okay, we do it your way. Someone has to be accountable for the oversight.

Yes, someone high up, this is not a problem an assistant could be held for. I do not trust anyone except myself to carry this out correctly. It will be me Thomas.

You could be revoked.

Not with your support and a letter attempting to accept the blame for this poor man's death yourself.

It will work.

I know it will. Now go to bed and let me watch this man die. Think of phase two and what needs to be done to prevent this from happening again. Heather left him standing alone in the hallway as she went back in to stand at Vic's side along with the second shift security officer.

Chapter 3

Wake up Thomas! a voice called him, Doctor, wake up!

Doctor Sentry was napping on the cot in his office and the persistent voice would not quite down, finally he began to awaken. Heather was beside him; she was leaning over his body, but was not touching him.

Wake up doctor! There has been a complication. she said.

Yes? he asked sleepily, What is it?

Vic's vital signs are dropping; I believe you should attend him.

I am awake. I will be there in a moment. Thomas said.

Heather nodded silently and backed away from him. Hurry.

Thomas quickly got up, straightened his lab coat and slipped on his shoes. He went into the hall and Heather was waiting for him.

We discussed this, right?

"All a

Reviews for Collapse, Tales of the Zombie Chronicles

[cmwilson101 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Collapse, Tales of the Zombie Chronicles, is an anthology of short stories highlighting individuals and their response to the collapse of the world as we know it. Contender, the final story in the book, is my favorite (and I think the best) of all of Mark Clodi's Zombie Chronicles stories. It centers around a young boy, Hon, who somehow manages to survive the zombies, and despite great loss, begins to care about the tough Southern men who have taken him in. Gorgeous, evocative story, and I hope that the author will tell us more about Hon's life. If you are not familiar with the Zombie Chronicles, the blurb for the series says..."The ‘Zombie Chronicles’ universe, where the zombies don’t stay mindless, shambling adversaries. Instead they grow smarter, faster and stronger as they feed on the flesh of the living."...and to that statement I would add, "And where zombie-fighting humans begin to suspect that they, too, are changing as they struggle to survive in this bleak world."Author Mark Clodi distinguished The Zombie Chronicles by coming up with the very novel idea that Romero-type zombies could learn and grow as they feed. The human survivors in the Zombie Chronicles world therefore have to content with both types of zombies as they try to survive. This makes for some great stories.