Odd Jobs for the Undead - A Zombie For Hire Story

Chapter 17

The zombie on the table shifted his focus from me to Sherwood. His lips curled back in a wide grimace, revealing a partial set of gnashing teeth. A low groan started deep in his throat and grew louder as the working of his jaw became more violent.

I walked around the table, putting the zombie between me and the WexlerPharma COO. Sherwood was standing just inside the door flanked on both sides by security guards in black suits. None of them seemed remotely disturbed by the zombie on the table or the fact that I'd found it.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" asked Sherwood.

"What?"

She gestured at the table.

"No matter what we do to them, no matter what body parts we remove, as long as the deep structures in the brain remain intact, the zombie continues to function."

"So what are you doing to them?" I asked.

Sherwood smiled, the kind you see parents making at ignorant or uninformed children.

"We're studying them, of course."

"Yeah, but why?"

The zombies in the cage behind me were picking up on their companion's distress and beginning to groan as well. I looked over my shoulder and the entire mass of them were pushing up against the chain link fence. Rotting fingers poked out through the holes and the faces of the zombies closest to the humans were being mashed into the links by the zombies behind them, all trying to get to the fresh meat.

"Lets continue this conversation somewhere else, shall we?" Sherwood asked politely. "If we stay much longer those poor creatures will get riled up."

She may want to go somewhere else, but I felt far safer here, among my people, than in any other room in WexlerPharma.

"Why are you studying them?" I persisted.

Sherwood's smile slipped a little.

"We want to turn them into you," she said finally.

"Those zombies are as much like me as apes are to you," I said. "But why would you even want to make them like me?"

"Perhaps I was overstating things a bit," Sherwood said. "What we're trying to do is curb their need to eat people. We're also trying to raise their IQ a bit. Imagine the possibilities of a work force that doesn't need rest, money, or food. That can do the most hazardous work with no safety concerns. We could make a fortune just using them to clear mine fields."

"That sounds a lot like my job description," I noted. "Are you trying to put me out of work?"

Sherwood shrugged.

"We did come up with the idea independently, but lets just say you made us think bigger."

The collective zombie moaning was getting louder by the second now. I looked again at the fence. The links were being stretched to their limit by the amassed weight of the hoard pushing on the barrier. The areas between fence poles bulged out from the pressure. I looked briefly at the gate. It was reinforced with extra poles and was probably the strongest point in the fence, but the latch holding the door shut wasn't locked. It didn't need to be. The apparatus was too complex for a young child, or a zombie, to figure out, and no human was going to open the gate without protection.

"And why bring me here?" I asked, turning back to Sherwood.

"We were stuck," she answered. "Twenty million dollars invested and we couldn't figure out how to make new, smarter zombies. And we couldn't figure out how to make naturally occurring ones more productive. I hoped we might learn something out from you."