Rise of the Wobanzi

By Johnica J. Winter

Out of the dense jungles of the Madagascan rainforest comes the tale of a sacred tribal ritual that begets an ancient disease. After Dr. Henry Welshire carries the disease out of Africa, it spreads rapidly throughout the globe. When the infection becomes pandemic in the USA, Zoey Wain, a PhD student studying parasites, rendezvous with a group of friends according to their jokingly-constructed “zombie apocalypse plan”. The undead are no longer a joke as the group battles zombie-like creatures called “wobanzis” to get to a biological field station. Once they arrive at the station, the friends struggle to fortify their new home, procure supplies, and understand the pandemic’s origins. With enough luck and time, Zoey is confident that the team will be able to unlock the mysteries of the wobanzi disease and save what is left of humanity. The question remains as to whether or not this team possesses the luck or the time to save what's left of the world as they know it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Johnica J. Winter
• Release date: Apr 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311983183

Johnica J. Winter

I'm a lover of coffee, tea, good food, and great conversations. I'm a biology nerd with a background in organismal biology and a Ph.D. that was earned by specializing in archaeoparasitology and learning about palynology, taphonomy, decompositional biology, archaeoentomology, archaeoarachnology, and other fun, niche areas. I most often read and write non-fiction, but I have had an interest in creative writing my entire life. I wrote my first novel, Rise of the Wobanzi, by combining my love for parasites with my interest in zombies. I hope to someday finish writing the sequel to this piece, Fall of the Wobanzi, which I started years ago, but haven't finished quite yet. Long term, I'd like to write a trilogy ending with Wobanzi Nation. I've also been working on a collection of poetry that I wrote when I was an angsty teen in high school and on a piece of creative non-fiction about my graduate school experiences. As a first-generation college student, I'm also interested in sharing my experiences with others navigating the often murky waters of academia. Keep your eyes open for future works from me!

Book preview

Rise of the Wobanzi

J. J. Morrow

Original Cover Art by J. D. Hill

Published by J. J. Morrow

Copyright 2013 J. J. Morrow

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311983183

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Characters and places in this ebook are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or places is completely unintentional. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to all those who both inspired me and encouraged me to write it. I have a few special shout outs to people who had direct impacts on the writing of this novel. First and foremost, thank you Kaysi Overby for making me want to participate in NaNoWriMo. Thank you John Janovy, Jr. for challenging me to keep up with your word counts. Both of you have been amazing writing buddies and I hope we will continue to compete with one another in future Novembers for years to come! Thank you J.D. Hill for sketching an amazing cover image. Thank you Airicca Roddy for your hours of editing and seemingly endless patience with my inability to stop tweaking the storylines. Thank you to my sweet puppy Kepler, who laid with me for countless hours as I wrote before he was taken from this world. I miss you, Kepler. You were the best non-human friend I ever had. Thank you to my mother, Tammy Pienaar, who has always been encouraging and supportive of me. Mom, you taught me I could do anything that I set my mind to, which I had to tell myself repeatedly while trying to complete this novel! Finally, thank you to my amazing husband, Matt Morrow for his love, support, and in-depth discussions about what should happen next. You are the best, Liebe! Without all of you, this book would not have ever been written. I am so glad to have each of you in my life! Thanks again, and happy reading!

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Out of Africa

Chapter 2: Cupcakes and Coffee

Chapter 3: Burning to Live

Chapter 4: Fantasy of Lights

Chapter 5: The Unleashing

Chapter 6: The Onset

Chapter 7: The Australian Arrival

Chapter 8: Patient Love

Chapter 9: Catalyst to Biotic Crisis

Chapter 10: Adie Get Your Guns

Chapter 11: Regulatory Feedback

Chapter 12: Rendezvous

Chapter 13: The Mother-Load

Chapter 14: Let the Compass Lead the Way

Chapter 15: Ricochet

Chapter 16: Field Station Sanctuary

Chapter 17: Disrupting Homeostasis

Chapter 18: Stranger By Day

Chapter 19: Vectors Bite

Chapter 20: Renewed Sanguinity

About the Author

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Prologue

Stories of human history have been passed down from one generation to the next long before we ever developed the capability to write them down. Over time, these stories naturally began melting into the primordial ooze that would foster the growth of many of our contemporary legends. But there’s a thing about legends. They aren’t simply the imaginative concoctions of novelists and screenwriters … no, they are so much more than that. The blossoms of legends are grown from the seeds of truth, sown carefully and deeply. They germinate. They bring forth young life putting down roots that inundate our societies. They grow taller and taller, getting further and further from their modest little seedling origins. They form associations with other truths, as well as exaggerations, creating a living jungle of cultural traditions. It is not often that the truth of legends is revealed by accidental discovery. Perhaps the thrill of such revelation is what drove Dr. Henry Welshire to leave his lovely home in Melbourne to explore the sweltering jungles of Madagascar.

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Chapter 1: Out of Africa

Henry stroked his graying beard as the jeep bounced along the unpaved trail. Doing field work in Africa over the course of the past 25 years of his life had caused his skin to wrinkle prematurely. A tall, thin man of 52, he had the appearance of a man in his late 60s or early 70s. Being an anthropologist, he didn’t mind looking like he had been doing this longer than he actually had been. Looking older gave him more credibility and made students much more afraid of him. Henry was much more concerned with commanding attention whilst walking into a room than youthful appearance.

They had been riding along this rocky road for a few hours now. He had forgotten how much he hated riding in jeeps. To keep his mind off of how uncomfortable the constant jarring was, he started thinking about his journey into this area. On the flight into the town of Santsova, he had been mesmerized by the beauty of the region. The vast carpet of treetops, he had seen peering out of his window, housed pockets of jagged limestone formations with occasional blotches of green popping up between the rocks forming a patchwork of landscape that had been simply breathtaking.

It will not be long Dr. Welshire. We are almost to the meeting spot, Daniel said without taking his eyes off of the road as the jeep trundled violently down the unpaved path. Daniel was the driver Henry had hired for this once-in-a-lifetime journey. He was a tall, thin, city man born far from where Henry was headed in the heart of the Bingsty de Temba National Park in western Madagascar. Daniel had agreed to take them as far as the jeep could go before the terrain became too rough for it to pass.

They would be meeting a group of men who had discovered the lost villagers while caving in the vastly unexplored karst regions of the island. Henry looked over his shoulder to see Tiffany angrily rolling her eyes as she tried in futile desperation to send out a final text message before they got any deeper into the jungle. She was a larger young lady with straw-colored hair that she had tied back, hidden under a trucker-style ball cap. She wore a hot pink spaghetti-strapped tank top in the hopes of getting more of a tan while working in the jungle. Her skin glistened in the African sun due to copious amounts of tanning oil before they jumped in the topless jeep with their supplies for the next few weeks.

Something more interesting than the scenery? Henry inquired with his right hand wrapped around one of the jeep’s roll bars as he turned to face her.

Nah, Tiffany blurted out as she smacked her now-flavorless bubble gum. I just wanted Kenny to know that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to him for a while.

You mean you didn’t tell him that you’d be out of a calling area before you left the country? Poor guy … he probably thought you liked him too. He chuckled turning back to face the road.

I just didn’t think about it. Hopefully he will figure it out, she retorted. Figure out that I’ll be out of reach that is, not figure out that I like him! He knows that! she added nervously.

Tiffany and Kenny had been dating off and on for the past few years. She knew she could do better, but Kenny worked hard to keep her happy. He showered her with expensive gifts, and she had yet to find someone that she had strong feelings for, so she figured she might as well stay with him until something better came along.

The self-absorbed graduate student began searching through her pack in search of a more resourceful means of self-entertainment as the professor leaned back and began listening to the sounds of the world around him. This was not his first time doing field work. After all, he is one of the world’s foremost experts on tribal African cultures, but most of his work has been dealing with people of the savannahs like the Maasai people of Kenya or the nomadic Hadzabe Bushmen. He’d never laid eyes upon the profusion of flora emanating from the seemingly endless jungle that lay before him on this island.

Henry smiled as he spotted a few lianas emerging from the canopy while the jeep bumped up and down over the jungle floor. He began admiring how subtly the terrain was changing. He knew they must be getting close to the famous stone forests. He had read a great book about the flora and fauna of the stone forest before he arrived. He had recommended the book to Tiffany. He wished he knew if she had actually read it … almost as much as he wished he had had a different grad student volunteer to come along with him for this journey. Perhaps asking for a student to be interested in such a ground-breaking study was too much for this new batch of technology-dependent protégés.

The doctor wished he could have read up on the people he would soon be encountering. Then again, part of the thrill with studying a culture that has managed to fly under the radar for the entirety of contemporary civilization’s existence is the lack of references, resources, or experts to consult. As far as this trip was concerned, he was the expert. He would be the one blazing the literary trail regarding this tribe when he returned to his peaceful beachfront balcony. He couldn’t wait to indulge in his little writing ritual of enjoying a vegemite sandwich with a hot cup of Sumatra coffee. He imagined himself seated in his favorite chair on his balcony sipping his earthy coffee, enjoying a cigarette, and watching the waves roll onto the otherwise placid shoreline.

Henry became lost in his thoughts while the jeep began to slow down as it approached the trail’s end surrounded on either side by limestone needles towering over the forest canopy and into the heavens. Two rather athletic looking men were waiting near what Henry assumed was the footpath they would be taking into the stone forest. As the vehicle approached, Daniel began calling to the men in a language that the doctor had not yet managed to master. The jeep came to a jarring stop, and one of the men walked over to Henry.

The man was sweaty from standing in the heat for who knows how long awaiting their arrival. His dark skin gleamed with sweat similar to the way Tiffany’s skin had displayed her tanning oil. He was a rather lanky man, but he did not seem to be at all under-fed. His hair was a puff of kinks that he didn’t seem to care to keep well groomed. He grinned excitedly as he approached to shake the hand of the professor.

Dr. Welshire, we…are…happy…you are…here. His accent was thick, but his words were deliberate and clear. My name…is Andry. I will show you…to…the village. This is my brother, Haja. The other man smiled and nodded as he approached Henry to shake his hand.

Henry forced a smile hoping it didn’t seem in fabricated. These men would be his translators … if you can call them that. They had discovered the tribe of people that the media was dubbing as the mole-rat clan because of their unfamiliar way of life. These men had also been the first to communicate with the villagers, mostly in the form of gestures. They were making great headway towards more verbal communication, but the language itself was still poorly understood.

From what little they had been able to understand, the members of the mole-rat clan call themselves Mobeshians, which as far as anyone can tell meant protectors. Such a defensively named tribe could easily become agitated at the presence of so many outsiders prodding them with questions about who they were, and how they’ve managed to live underground for so long without being detected by, literally, anyone. The two men began to unload the Austrailians’ packs full of notebooks, medicines, MREs, and other supplies. Henry was glad to be able to take a quick smoke break with Tiffany while the Malagasy men labored. It was the first time he was able to smoke since landing on this continent. He thanked Daniel for getting them to Andry and his brother before sending the jeep lumbering back to civilization.

The humidity seemed to quadruple in its thickness as the team made their way towards the remote village. As it became increasingly difficult to breathe, Henry began to wish he had been able to kick his smoking habit. His son, Alan, had been trying to get him to stop for years, but Henry didn’t really see it as a bad habit so much as he saw it as a social habit. He had come to love the pairing of a good, earthy, Indonesian coffee with a freshly packed cigarette. There were few things that he enjoyed so thoroughly, but in the sweltering heat of that moment, he wished that this social habit was more of a social history.

Haja and Andry hacked away the more stubborn vegetation as they pushed deeper into the clammy abyss. Henry guessed that Haja was the younger brother based on appearance and how they treated one another. Haja seemed to be in better physical shape. He wore a white shirt that was probably a little small for his size, so his well-defined muscles carved a place out of the fabric. He didn’t speak as much as Andry, but when he did speak, it was usually in a soft, deep, gentle voice.

The mosquitos and midges swarmed overhead as the team passed a few stagnant ponds. After a few hours and far too many water breaks for the doctor’s liking, they finally began to see what appeared as small straw mattresses weaved into the forest floor all around them. They came to a small group of trees with tremendously extensive buttressed roots extending among and around one another in a nearly crescent-shaped manner. Another of the strange mattress-looking straw pallets was situated at the center of this natural wonder. Andry called out in an unfamiliar collection of words and the pallet slowly rose up to reveal a painted hand that extended from a person donning a loin cloth made of fur and a necklace of small stones and sharp teeth. The man emerged and welcomed the team with a smile and large handful of looped fibers which were fashioned with a single small rock bead. He presented a loop to each person in the cohort, draping the necklaces over their heads, then poking them first on the left cheek, and then on the right cheek of their faces. It seemed that the villagers were receptive to the idea of outsiders despite the rumors of hostility. Henry was relieved at this discovery and began picturing himself receiving his impending Pulitzer Prize.

The Mobesian man was not nearly as dark-skinned as the men who had discovered the villagers. His skin was pasty, almost gray in color. His eyes had a greenish-gray hue to them and seemed somewhat sunken. He wore shoes made of animal hide, with fur lining the inside. He had raffia cuffs around his elbows, and his hair was long and thick. It had been divided into multiple braids and adorned with what looked like tiny snail shells. He appeared as a man wearing dreadlocks, though the braids were not frayed and appeared to have been recently fixed.

He beckoned the team to follow him into the underground tunnel. The Malagasy men waited patiently as the Australians grabbed another cigarette, and then everyone loaded up their gear before turning to follow the Mobesian man.

As they approached the mouth of the tunnel, Henry switched on his headlamp and placed it over his wide-brimmed hat. He turned to see Tiffany fishing for hers just before he crossed the threshold into the underground tunnel. Tiffany fiddled with her device for a bit before finally getting the light to come on and stay on. She strapped the light onto her head and hurried to catch up with the others.

The limestone walls and ceilings of the tunnel were studded with unfamiliar logs serving as support beams. The villager picked up a glowing bundle that was affixed to a staff from a holding device carved into the tunnel wall. He blew on the bundle gently and the torch began to burn a little more brightly as they entered a small corridor that lay ahead. Henry couldn’t help being anxious to learn what was beyond that corridor and what amazingly intricate and mysterious world awaited their arrival.

After a few minutes of walking, the team came to cavernous chamber. The ceilings were lined with thick, black, bat guano and the temperature had dropped a good five degrees or so as they entered the cave. The sounds of dripping water bounced about the dank chamber softly but with great frequency. In the center of the chamber there existed a monstrous crack in the surface of the ground. They were walking closer and closer towards the shadowy outline of a make-shift rope and log style swinging bridge. As they began crossing, the pit below the bridge appeared bottomless in the flickers of the torchlight.

Look! Tiffany exclaimed tightly grasping the rope railing on either side as the bridge swayed with their every step. The canyon under the bridge is so deep!

That must be why their village doesn’t flooding during the rainy season, said Henry almost losing his balance as he grabbed the unstable rope rails. I was wondering how they managed excess water penetration living underground.

After crossing the bridge, the team entered another corridor. Their guide led them through a series of chambers and passageways for the better part of an hour. Henry wondered if the guide was purposefully meandering through tunnels to keep them from being able to enter the city without a guide or if the Mobesians truly lived this far away from the surface. Tiffany was doing her best not to fall behind. She knew that there would be lots of walking on this trip, but she wasn’t quite prepared to spend this much time walking. She wished she had brought warmer clothes; her shoulders trembled in the cold, dank caverns. Haja approached her with a light jacket he had pulled from his pack.

Miss. This keep shoulders from shaking, he said offering her the jacket.

Tiffany was somewhat repulsed by the idea of wearing some sweaty man’s jacket, but she was really cold. She took the jacket and thanked him with a short and slightly sarcastic-sounding, Thanks. Even by the light of her headlamp she could see Haja was pleased with himself but nervous. He tried to start up a conversation with her.

Um, Miss Tiffany … what you think of here? he asked speaking slowly as he wasn’t confident of his English-speaking capabilities.

Tiffany looked at the bald man’s chiseled chest. Even if he did have a great body, she wasn’t interested, and she had no intention of seeming as if she was. She glanced back at his face and flashed Haja a look of arrogant dismissal. Sooooo obvious. I really don’t care to talk to you, but I appreciate the jacket, she stated smugly before prancing forward to walk alongside the professor.

Haja stopped and stood stunned for a moment. Andry chuckled as he patted his not-so-smooth brother’s back. At least she like the jacket, he teased in their native tongue. Haja shrugged his shoulders. He was just trying to be nice.

Finally, the group entered a corridor that led into the main part of the city. As the team stepped into the enormous underground cavern, their eyes adjusted to the new abundance of light provided by the glow of torches posted along the city’s walls and outside of all the buildings. The efficiency of the walking paths throughout the interior of this vast open chamber was rivaled only by the beauty of the stalactites and stalagmites that busted from the ceiling and ground around the paths. A small river meandered its way through the mud-hut buildings. A few isolated ponds were scattered about the chamber, some of which had a faint blue glow to them.

Andry, who had been whispering with the villager throughout much of the trek turned to Henry and said, The leader is called Tomgop. I think he says the necklaces are gifts for all visitors, and you get more rocks if you are trusted. Henry signaled to Tiffany for her to make sure to write up notes about Tomgop and the gifts when they got to their quarters.

Henry looked up to see a statue carved from a large cave pillar that depicted unfamiliar faces in an almost totem-pole sort of way. The meandering river branched around this centralized structure to meet itself on the other side of the column. He stopped the team to ask Tomgop about the statue. Through the combined efforts of Henry, Haja, and Andry, the team learned from Tomgop that the Mobesians worshipped many gods; all of whom worked together to balance the natural world. Henry approached the statue and was drawn to a grotesque looking face at the bottom of the column. The teeth appeared gnarled, the eyes were carved without pupils unlike the other carvings, and the face seemed more sunken … almost resembling a skull rather than a face. The forehead of each had a symbol in their centers … this one was round with lines radiating outwards. Henry wondered if this was a sun-god of some sort.

Dr. Welshire, I’m really tired. And hungry. Can we come by to look at this tomorrow? asked Henry’s disinterested graduate student.

After giving Tiffany a glacial stare of disapproval, Henry picked up his pack and mumbled, I suppose it will still be here tomorrow.

Tomgop led the group towards a small, rectangular building constructed of wood, raffia, and mud. He pulled back what Henry thought might be a group of lemur skins sewn together that was draped over a log affixed to the sides of the entryway. Tomgop herded the travelers inside and motioned for the team to stay as he exited the hut. The modest house was strewn with the hides of local animals, making the ground rather soft and much warmer than the cold cave floor itself. Near the back of the house, which was opposite the entrance, a fireplace had been carved out of the cave wall. Additional hides were laid on top of five straw-like mattresses on the west side of the building. The east side of the building had a series of shelves carved out of the wooden beams. Upon the shelves were a few homemade pots, baskets, and an assortment of tools made from twigs, rocks, and fragmented bones.

Tomgop returned few moments later with a steaming platter the size of a large pizza. The platter held a few different jungle fruits, a large fillet of a fish that had been dusted with a variety of coarse seasonings and appeared to have been charred over an open flame, and chunks of boiled roots of an unknown plant which had also been dusted with the coarse seasonings. The platter was rimmed with small, off-white balls that looked similar to tapioca. He sat the platter in the center of the room, and smiled motioning for them to come and eat.

Henry was pleasantly surprised by the flavors he encountered. Having done much work with tribal people, he expected foods to be simple, somewhat bland even, when working in the field. The