A/N - This story was written for the MadMike's Revenge Smackdown comp. The prompt was to use a couple of contestants from the TV show Survivor as protagonists (don't worry, you don't need to know anything about them or the show) and to write in the zombie genre. Around 3500 words. The premise is that zombies have taken over the world and now view humans as the threat.
"Last item on agenda, Mr Zombident."
"'Bout time. Me hungry. What is item?"
"Humans."
"Humans?"
"Humans."
"Rarrrhh."
"Rarrrhh indeed, Mr Zombident. Rarrrh, indeed."
"Where humans?"
"Unconfirmed report. Island in Pacific."
"Huh. You know that noise that is spelt p, f, f, f, t?"
"Hmm, think so, Mr Zombident."
"Imagine me make that noise."
"Why imagine, Mr Zombident?"
"Me look like me have lips?"
"Sorry, Mr Zombident. So, think report not true?"
"That what me think. No more humans. Only zombies. Report bollocks."
"What bollocks mean, Mr Zombident?"
"Hmm. Me forget. Used to be important, me think. Probably fall off by now. Oh well. Want lunch?"
"That be lovely, Mr Zombident. What we have?"
"Sigh. Tofu-brains again. Almost wish report true. Real brains. Mmmmm...."
****
"This look like nice island, honey. We stop here. Get supplies for yacht. Seagull brains. Maybe turtle brains, if we lucky."
"Hmm, me not know, Rarf. Think it safe?"
"Honey, we already dead. How much safer you want?"
"We living dead, smart guy. Me want stay that way."
"You worry too much, Arrrla. You stay on yacht, me get stuff. Okay?"
"Fine, me stay here and wash hair."
"Uh...which one?"
****
"Drop it, Dan. I'm not going to sleep with you."
"But you said you would, Christina. You said if I was the last man in the world you'd sleep with me. Well, to the best of our knowledge I am the last man in the world. What's the hold-up?"
"Firstly, to the best of our knowledge you're the last man on this island. Just because we haven't heard anything from the outside world for a while doesn't guarantee there's nobody out there. Secondly, what I actually said was that even if you were the last man in the world, I still wouldn't sleep with you."
"Are you sure?"
"Totally sure, Dan."
"So, basically, you're saying you'd forgo sex for the rest of your life rather than sleep with me?"
"Well, duh."
"But I saved you!"
"Dan, I just happened to be in the boat you stole, when the shit hit the fan back on Upolu. I don't think that's quite the same thing."
"But I fought off the zombies that tried to get on board! I crushed skulls, I beheaded 'em, I kicked their asses! I kept you safe."
"Dan, you were keeping yourself safe. I don't think you even realised I was there. Besides, I did my fair share of zombie ass-kicking too. Now run along and take a cold swim. I'm off to do some foraging."
****
Dan stomped along the well-worn path across the island, muttering under his breath. What more did he have to do? Act heroically? Check. Kill zombies? Check. Have a cool beard? Check. Be the last available male with a heartbeat and all appendages still attached? Check, check and check.
Talk about hard to please. But Dan wasn't a quitter. There was only one thing left to do. One last achievement to win Christina over.
He'd just have to save the world.
****
Christina wandered along the shoreline, collecting mussels. The warmth of the late afternoon sun was tempered by a sea-breeze, and the seawater was delightfully cool as it washed around her ankles. If it wasn't for the whole zombie apocalypse thing, she could almost feel happy here.
She slipped another mussel into her bag, and looked out to sea as she stood to stretch her back. She froze mid-stretch. A boat! Shielding her eyes from the sun, she tried to make out some detail. It looked like an expensive pleasure craft, the kind of plaything Hollywood A-listers used to buy with their pocket change.
And there was activity on the deck. Could it be somebody else had survived? After weeks of nothing but bad news on the radio and then months of nothing but incoherent zombie-speak, she'd finally given up. But now, at the sight of the waving figure on the deck, hope surged anew in her heart.
But only for a moment. There was something disturbing about that wave. It lacked fluency. It had a slow awkwardness to it. It was as though the waver was a marionette with too few strings, worked by a drunken puppeteer. Her heart sank. Only one thing moved like that.
A zombie.
Then her heart started to race. What the hell was it waving to?
****
Rarf popped another seagull brain in his mouth as he wandered out of the jungle and on to the beach. Nothing compared to human brains, but these weren't so bad once you got used to them.
The first thing he saw was Arrrla waving to him. The second thing he saw was the human standing at the edge of the water, looking out at the boat.
He spat out the seagull brain. Time for a real meal.
"Raaarrrhhhgghhh!"
****
Dan sat in his secret lab and looked out over the ocean. Strictly speaking, he was sitting in a cave, but he liked to call it his lab. After all, he did do sciencey stuff there.
The section of ocean overlooked by the cave included the island's natural harbour, which by some quirk of the local currents had proved to be a collection point for a host of ocean craft of all shapes and sizes. Most had been empty when they washed ashore.
Some had not.
They had killed almost all the zombie arrivals, but unbeknownst to Christina, he had secreted a few away, and these now moaned and shambled around the wooden cage he'd constructed at the rear of the cave. They were his guinea pigs. His lab rats. His ticket to Christina's heart. And hopefully, to other bits.
Dan was not by nature what you would call smart. In fact, he was by nature what you would call an idiot. But he was a motivated idiot. And given that among the beached vessels were a US Navy destroyer and a National Geographic research ship, he was a motivated idiot with some impressive tech at his disposal. Not to mention a complete lack of ethical oversight.
He had read everything about the zombie plague he could get his hands on. Then he kept on rereading until at least some of it made sense. Although not much had been discovered before civilisation had crumbled, there were some useful tidbits, and being a practical sort, Dan decided to expand upon this limited body of knowledge via the only method available to him.
Experimentation.
He'd zapped zombies, he'd injected zombies, he'd dissected zombies, he'd infected zombies, he'd connected zombies and he'd blown up zombies. It had been a messy process, but slowly and surely he'd learned new things. Like how to scrape zombie off the ceiling.
But he had discovered promising areas of research as well. Some of the fruits of this hard-won knowledge adorned the cave. In one corner stood the tortured corpse of his first attempt at zombie-plant hybridisation, its mouth forever frozen in a rictus of outrage. As far as labour-fruits went, this one was probably at the rotten banana end of the spectrum, but for a postal worker who had never finished high school, Dan felt it represented an achievement of sorts.
In another corner, caged zombie rats nibbled on grain rather than on each other's brains. Switching off the I-want-to-eat-your-skull-candy gene had been a major breakthrough, albeit one he had not yet managed to replicate in full-size zombies.
Pulling up a chair to his work-station (big rock), Dan cranked up some Foreigner on his iPhone—he found a little bit of 80s soft rock rattling his brainbox helped him think. With renewed determination and continued sexual frustration, he set to work.
****
Just to be sure, Christina gave the zombie's head a final crack with the rock she'd picked up to defend herself. With a satisfying wet crunch, its skull gave way and its brains, along with whatever passed for its consciousness, leaked into the sand.
She was intrigued to discover that the zombie had been carrying a rudimentary bag, which was behaviour she'd never seen before. Nudging it open with her toe, she was somewhat less intrigued to find it contained several dozen of what appeared to be tiny brains.
She pondered this for a moment, before shrugging. It was weird, but then so was the world these days. She went back to her foraging.
****
Several weeks later, Arrrla sailed into San Francisco harbour. She moored the yacht, shuffle-marched along the jetty, stormed into the customs office at a furious limp, punched the customs zombie right in the face, and—yelling as loudly as her decomposed lungs would allow—demanded, "Get me zombident on phone, now!"
****
"Excuse me, Mr Zombident. Appear report not bollocks. More human seen. Kill zombie."
"But zombie already dead."
"Living dead, Mr Zombident. Human make zombie deading dead. Wife pissed."
"Ah, me see. Troubling. Hmm."
"What we do, Mr Zombident?"
"You not know what "hmm" mean?"
"Um, mean want more tofu-brains?"
"It mean me thinking! Only tofu-brains here in your head. No can get good help, these days."
"Not tofu, Mr Zombident—liver."
"Huh?"
"Me put liver in head, Mr Zombident. Keep falling out of body."
"Hmm. Explain a lot. Anyway, call out zombie navy."
"Uh, we no have zombie navy, Mr Zombident."
"We got zombie army?"
"Yes, Mr Zombident."
"We got boats?"
"Yes, Mr Zombident."
"Put together—what we got?"
"Ah, me see. Clever, Mr Zombident."
"That why me zombident and you liver-for-brains."
****
Dan raced across the island. "Christina! Christina! I did it!" Breathless, he pounded into the campsite they'd established at the edge of the jungle.
Relaxing in a hammock, Christina looked up from the battered copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy she was rereading for about the zillionth time—the boats that had washed ashore had sadly only provided a limit array of works of fiction. Not for the first time, the sight of Dan's sweating, apopletic face made her wish for her own Sub-Etha Sen-O-Matic. Hitchhiking to another planet often seemed like an appealing option, these days.
"What did you do, Dan?"
It took a minute or two of wheezing before he was able to form coherent words. "I've found the cure, Christina! I've cured a zombie! I can save the world!"
She rolled her eyes. "Did you find some wacky-baccy on that last boat to wash ashore? You know we agreed to share that kind of thing."
"I'm deadly serious. I've been doing experiments for months now, and I've finally cracked it. Come and see!"
****
"You sure you want come to island, Mr Zombident?"
"Yes. Me Commander-in-Chief. Plus, me feel like break from Brownhouse."
"Erm. Mean Whitehouse?"
"Me know what me mean. You seen this place lately? Zombies no clean so good."
"But what if not safe, Mr Zombident?"
"Me help build New Zombie Order. Take over world. Think can handle little island and couple humans."
"Me have idea, Mr Zombident."
"Sigh. This be good. What idea?"
"Do a Trump. Build wall. Keep humans in."
"Build wall?"
"Yes, Mr Zombident."
"Around island?"
"Yes, Mr Zombident."
"Island surrounded by ocean. How we build wall in ocean? Liver-for-brains!"
"Oh, that right. Sorry, Mr Zombident."
****
Despite herself, Christina was impressed by Dan's secret science cave. Computers hummed. Flasks bubbled. Centrifuges whirred. She was less impressed by the cage full of zombies.
"Dan, what the hell? You keep these things alive?"
"Well, technically they're dead."
"Don't get smart with me, Dan."
"Sorry, sorry. Look, just follow me." He led Christina past the zombies and through a narrow passageway, deeper into the cave. An eerie red light flickered ahead of them, and before long the passageway opened out onto a ledge at the edge of a vast underground cavern, dimly lit by the flames of a handful of torches.
"This is where I keep my test subjects," said Dan. "The results of some experiments have been a little...unpredictable. So for safety's sake I keep 'em in here until I know how things have turned out."
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Christina was disturbed to see the piles of detritus covering the floor of the cavern consisted almost entirely of decomposing body parts.
Dan saw the direction of her gaze. "Er, yeah. Most of 'em didn't turn out too well."
Movement on the floor of the cavern drew Christina's attention. Standing knee-deep in the human offal, a single figure stood with arms akimbo, clutching a human spine in one hand. It threw back its head and howled.
Christina was aghast. "What the hell is that?"
Dan smiled proudly. "That's my first ever successful test subject. The first ever zombie to be returned to human form. Isn't he great?"
The figure began munching on the spine, salivating profusely and pausing on occasion for a hysterical giggle.
"That thing is a human?"
Dan nodded. "Oh yeah. I've sedated him and run tests. He's got a heartbeat and everything. He's batshit crazy of course, but that's just a minor complication."
"A minor complication?"
"Yeah, I can probably fix that. So, what do you think of good old Dan now? Pretty impressive, huh?"
"I'm going to finish my book." Without a backwards glance, Christina turned and left.
Dan was crestfallen, but only for a moment. Gritting his teeth in determination, he headed back to the lab.
****
"Good morning. Me Admiral Snaarj. Soon be at island. Me give briefing. Listen up, mens."
"Raaarrggh!"
"Sorry. Listen up mens and ladies."
"Raaarrgghh!"
"Fine, fine. Ladies and mens and zombies of non-specific gender. Happy now?"
"Mehggh."
"OK, here battle plan. When land on island, everyone off boat. Find humans. First wave shamble towards humans. Say, "Raarrggh." Try to eat brains. If first wave get dead, second wave do same thing. If second wave get dead, third wave do same thing. Ecksetera."
"Admiral, you a master tactician."
"Thank you, Mr Zombident."
****
"Christina! Christina! I did it!"
Dozing in her hammock, Christina cocked a sleepy eye at Dan. "Did what? If it's another psychotic madman, I think I prefer the zombies."
"No! I turned a zombie into a sane person! I just had to tweak the formula a bit. It was actually you that gave me the idea, with that crack about the wacky-baccy. I had a stash, purely for scientific purposes of course, and I added a bit to the mix. Voila! Non-psychotic ex-zombies. Come and see."
With a sigh, Christina swung out of the hammock. She had finished her book, so why not?
Once back at the cave, Dan pointed proudly at the zombie cage. Although it now no longer appeared to be a zombie cage. Standing inside, dressed in ragged clothes and smiling at Christina, were a man and a woman.
"Dan, who are these people?"
"Originally? No idea. They don't know, either. They're human again, but it seems as though all of their old memories are gone. I call 'em Gerry and Karin. Guys, this is Christina."
"Oh boy, it sure is nice to meet you," said Gerry.
"Likewise," added Karin. "It's really swell."
"Er, nice to meet you two as well." She pulled Dan aside. "Why do they talk like they escaped from the set of The Brady Bunch?"
Dan shrugged. "Dunno. It's early days in the field of post-zombification psychoanalysis. It beats being insane."
"Fair enough. Dan, I can't believe you pulled this off. Can we change some more back?"
He shook his head. "These were my last two specimens. We'll have to wait for some more to wash ashore."
Christina looked out to sea, hoping to see a boat somewhere. "Oh shit. Dan, I don't think more specimens are going to be a problem."
He turned to look as well. A veritable flotilla of craft was approaching the island; a motley assortment of fishing trawlers, pleasure craft and ex-naval vessels. Crammed on the deck of each and every one of them, from gunwale to gunwale, were hundreds of zombies.
****
"You want give speech, Mr Zombident? Rally troops before battle?"
"Is Zombie-pope Catholic?"
"Erm. Me not know, Mr Zombident. Want me ask someone?"
"Sigh. Wish eye muscles still work."
"Why that, Mr Zombident?"
"So can roll eyes. Of course me give speech!"
"Okay, Mr Zombident. Me tell troops. Attention! All zombie quiet! No moaning! Zombident give speech now!"
"Greetings, mens."
"Raaargghh!"
"Sorry. Greetings, zombies. Lend me ears. No, not like that. Stop pulling ears off! Just listen. Today we fight for United States of Zombie. We fight for all zombie-kind. They may take our lives, but we zombies, so who care? Me know you make USZ proud. We take world from humans. They no take it back. Attack!"
****
"Dan, you cannot be serious."
"It's the only way, Christina. Believe me, I should know."
"You're telling me you made your zombie-cure into a suppository?"
"Yep. The rear end of a zombie is the only place with enough structural integrity to take it. It can't be a tablet because their digestive systems don't really work, injections are no good without a functioning vascular system, and their lungs are too full of holes for aerosol delivery. It's the only way. But don't worry, I've developed a remote delivery system."
"Dan, that's a curved stick. With a fork duct-taped to the end."
"Yep, and I've got four of them ready. Let's go."
"Four?"
"Yep, one each for you, me, Gerry and Karin," replied Dan, distributing the sticks and bags of suppositories.
"Gerry and Karin are going to fight zombies as well?"
"Oh boy, we sure are," enthused Gerry.
"You betcha," confirmed Karin. "I'm ever so keen to ram some sticks right up those nasty zombies' bottoms. But only because it will be good for them, of course."
Christina shook her head. So this was what the human race had come to. "Fine." She attached a zombie-cure to the fork on the end of her stick. "Let's do this thing."
****
As far as battles went, there were probably more epic examples throughout history. But it was doubtful there had ever been any of greater importance. The future of humanity was at stake. Not to mention on a stake.
The only four humans in existence made their way to the beach, arriving just as the first wave of zombies waded ashore. Despite the extremity of the situation, Dan felt a surge of pride wash through him. He was no longer a chubby, sexually frustrated, middle-aged postal-worker. He was a warrior. He was a defender of the human race. He was awesomeness made flesh. He felt moved to make a speech.
"C'mon, everyone! Let's go shove our sticks right up those zombies' butts!" And with those stirring words, he charged into battle.
Despite their vast numerical superiority, the zombies were handicapped by their slow, awkward movements, and at first the battle went well for the humans. Darting in and among the advancing ranks, they shoved zombie-cures home left, right and especially centre, leaving the recipients twitching and spasming on the beach as their transformation back to humanity kicked in.
But eventually, the weight of numbers began to tell against the humans. Gerry was the first to go, having snapped his stick after a particularly deep delivery. Karin was next, caught from behind by a giant, shambling zombie while she was busy apologising to the recipient of her latest cure. They both disappeared under heaving masses of the living dead.
Back to back, zombies all around, Dan and Christina desperately fought on, the press of the undead becoming so tight they could barely move their aching arms enough to deliver more cures.
Then, miraculously, just when all seemed lost, reinforcements arrived. The first of the cured zombies waded into the fray, wielding rocks or sticks or whatever weapons they could get their hands on. For a time the battle hung in the balance, but in the end the increasing number of humans turned the tide, and it became a zombie rout.
****
"Hmm, look like we lose, Mr Zombident."
"Oh, you genius, no doubt."
"What we do now?"
"Hmm. Throw admiral overboard. Go back USZ. Find new tactics. Me think maybe armoured undies. This war not over."
****
Surrounded by rejoicing, transformed humans, Dan and Christina embraced.
"Thank you, Dan. You've saved humanity."
This is it, thought Dan in exultation. My time has come. "Gee, thanks Christina. Say, what are you doing tonight?"
She blushed. "Um, sorry Dan. Karin's back in human form, and she and I are planning a little get-together this evening."
Dan's jaw dropped. "You mean..?"
"Yes, Dan. See you later."
Crestfallen once more, Dan watched her disappear into the crowd. Turning around, he spotted a regenerated Gerry a little way down the beach, and was somewhat shocked to realise the ex-zombie was winking at him.
After a moment's thought, he shrugged and set off down the beach. If the zombie apocalypse had taught him one thing, it was that he was good at experimentation.
A/N: The following is an optional prequel to this story, written for a bonus round.
"OK, what first item on agenda?"
"Let me see, Mr Zombident. It be Zombie doctors."
"Zombie doctors? What up their butts?"
"Complain they have no work, Mr Zombident."
"Why that?"
"All zombie dead, Mr Zombident. Not get flu or herpes or run over by train. Hmm, actually they do get last one. But then they just be short zombies. Zombies no get sick, so zombies no need doctor."
"Hmm. OK, me know. Put all zombie doctor in zombie army."
"What if zombie doctor no want to go in zombie army, Mr Zombident?"
"Easy. We give them choice. Go in zombie army. Or go in mulcher."
"OK, me just write that down. Ready for next item, Mr Zombident?"
"Hit me."
"OK, Mr Zombident."
"Ow!"
"How that, Mr Zombident?"
"Dumbhead! Me mean hit me with item. Not chair!"
"Oh, me see. Sorry, Mr Zombident. Easy mistake to make. Second item is zombie nurses."
"Sigh. Me can guess. They complain they no have work?
"No, Mr Zombident. They complain zombie doctors get best car-parks."
"Oh. Me not expecting that one. Oh well. All zombie doctor in zombie army now, so problem go away."
"Ah, clever. You great politician, Mr Zombident. Fix two items with one solution. And mulcher."
"Yes, me pretty good, alright. What next item?"
"Let's see, Mr Zombident. Third item is zombie funeral directors."
"Sigh. It no easy being zombident."
A/N: The following is a second optional prequel, also for a bonus round.
"Dan, I don't know why you bother with that thing. It's been nothing but zombies for weeks."
"Well Christina, you never know. We made it, so maybe somebody else did. And maybe they've got a radio. And maybe they're broadcasting, looking for other survivors like us. We'll never know unless we listen."
Static greeted Dan when he switched on the radio, but a little tuning soon located a signal.
"-ing to too Zombie FM. All zombie, all night, all day. That All You Zombies by Hooters. They have new album out soon. Called All Us Zombies. Next up be Zombie by Cranberries and after that Shake it Off by Taylor Swift. Nah, me just joking. After that be Rob Zombie with Dragula-"
Shaking his head, Dan kept tuning.
"-save, save! Shuffle on down to Crazy Carghl's Discount Warehouse! We be overstocked. Ragged shirts – we got 'em. Ragged pants – we got 'em. Tofu-brains, just like real thing – we got 'em. You no buy better-"
More tuning.
"-back to Zombie Talk. Next caller be Wrahhf. Me pronounce that right?"
"Meerhgh."
"Whatevs. What you think of zombident policy? Put all zombie-doctor in zombie-army?"
"Me think 'bout time."
"'Bout time zombie-doctor do something useful?"
"No. 'Bout time me get good car-park. Stupid zombie-doctor."
Dan switched off the radio. "Hey, Christina. Are you busy at the moment?"
"Forget it, Dan."
He briefly considered trying the radio again, but couldn't be bothered. "I think I'll go for a walk."
"Whatevs."