Zombie Society - They Live Among Us (10 page)

The assembled flash mob jeered and threw eggs into the small convoy of floats as it proceeded through the center of Boston. A mixture of moaning and human screams provided a verbal backdrop to the rotten garbage and occasional solid projectile that flew their way. The children crouched in the corner of the floats, covering their ears, many crying from the onslaught. How many protesters? Three hundred perhaps? And they’d all followed the convoy from the starting point on Arlington Street and would doubtless stalk them all the way to the Waterfront Park. John recognized several of the human protesters from the Dead Pride event only the week before.

“I just don’t get it.” He shouted through the screams to Kerry. “How can you be in favor of Dead Pride, but against Human Pride?” It was completely hypocritical.

Kerry flinched as a tomato arced over the float to splat harmlessly on the sidewalk. “Just look at them. Do you really think they possess functioning brains? Probably why they get on so well with the dead.” She pointed to one protester, long matted and dreadlocked hair with a piercing through the eyeball. “That guy just screams ‘fuck you society.’”

John noticed how the CCTV cameras followed the convoy’s progress through the city. He pictured some fat, city employee zooming in on their faces, capturing stills for their files, to be marked ‘Enemies of the State.’

John had applied for funding from the city, but was turned down flat. “How can you approve Dead Pride, but not Human Pride?” He asked the clerk.

“Don’t be mortist.” Was the response returned by the selectively tolerant government official.

But being turned down by the city only spurred John on and in the end, Human Pride had to be funded from generous donations and his own pocket.

Indeed, the city had threatened him with court action if he went ahead with the event. Only, John had his own lawyer look into the case and managed to get the city to back off. In the meantime, he’d experienced strange occurrences around his house; men in dark suits and sunglasses loitering across the street, the mail not being delivered, feedback on his cell phone, and what at first he assumed to be raccoons going through the trash. When the bins were overturned for the third time, he began to suspect different. Were strange forces at work, or was John turning paranoid under all his recent stresses?

In the end John could only afford three floats, but still, he had a pretty good turnout. John and Kerry along with many of their friends occupied the ‘Human History’ float. Deciding what to include and what to scrap was an almost impossible task, but in the end they went for the moon landing, renaissance art, the industrial revolution and the motor car. Fitting representations of each onto a single float had been a challenge, but a fun one.

John looked at the half-scale hand-crafted motor car with Henry Ford behind the wheel that Kerry and Shannon had spent all week creating, and then at the red paint that had been thrown over it by the tolerance preaching protesters. John’s hand clenched into a fist. The ragged bunch of humans outnumbered the dead by many, perhaps exacerbated by the fact the dead couldn’t quite keep up the pace.

During Dead Pride, the police had stood at regular intervals to ensure the safety of the crowds and that no trouble from what the media called ‘extremists’ from within the human community occurred. Not that any human protesters against Dead Pride were anywhere to be seen, unlike today. And today, the police were conspicuous by their absence along the route, but, as John looked ahead at the Waterfront Park, a large gathering of them had arranged themselves into a semi-circle.

‘
They’re gonna enclose us
.’ A text came from Finn who was with his friend Declan on the Human Cuisine float in front.

It was obvious what was about to happen. They would kettle in the humans who were trying to enjoy their culture and heritage, arrest them, finger print, iris scan, take their DNA and hold everybody in a cell overnight, along with the muggers, drunkards, drug dealers and assorted human and dead scum alike. In the morning, they’d nicely discourage everybody from holding such events in the future. Meanwhile, Dead Pride would receive ever more funding and publicity, paid for of course, by human tax dollars.

This was America – Land of the free.

Cloak And Dagger

The railway bridge offered welcome respite from the deluge. The rain hammered down, causing water from the ample puddles to splash upwards a few feet from where John stood. He hunched his shoulders against a gust that brought the night rain sideways.

A tall figure approached, umbrella in hand, silhouetted by the street lighting.

John looked around, ensuring he’d not been followed and they’d be alone.

Fergus arrived under the shelter and uselessly shook off water from the umbrella, before closing and propping it against the wall. “John.” He held out his hand, which John clasped and shook.

It’d been a few months since John had seen his friend. After late completion of the Titan Building, contracts had not been forthcoming. The government deal he’d made to build the new National Association for the Advancement of Dead People building had fallen through, as had the building of the new Dead Poverty Law Centre. And due to the wretched economy, few private projects were undergoing.

A train roared overhead, shaking the ground where John and Fergus stood.

“You weren’t followed?” John asked, looking beyond Fergus’ shoulder.

He shook his head. “I also left my cell at home, so there’s no way I can be traced.”

John breathed and nodded. How had it come to this? That the only way he could meet with his best friend was under a railway bridge, in the dead of night, after taking precautions. “Why did you want to meet?” John knew the answers already, but he needed to ask anyway.

Fergus looked beyond John’s shoulder, then swiveled his head to check behind. He leaned in and whispered. “It’s time - It’s time we begin some sort of a human resistance.”

John exhaled sharply, “so, you’ve finally come to the realization, huh?” He shook his head, “what kept you so long?” Why could some people see the threat for what it was from the outset, while others, seemingly educated people with common sense could not?

“Yeah, well your brother walking in on your sister’s zombie boyfriend eating her alive kinda puts things in a new perspective, John.” His mouth quivered, but his stare was hard and intentional – He was serious.

John dipped his head. “I was very sorry to hear about that. Kim was a good girl.” He reached out and squeezed Fergus’ shoulder. “What happened?”

Fergus tilted his chin up. “Aidan crippled the little fucker, that’s what happened. Took a baseball bat to its spine, broke its legs, arms, neck.” His head now dipped a touch, shaking from side to side. “Of course there were no media reports of my sister’s murder, but Aidan now faces twenty years and has his face plastered across every news channel in the nation. They’re turning it into some kind of human vendetta story against the poor mort who’d suffered for so long because of human mortism – Such fuckin’ bullshit, man.”

“I know.” It was because of media reports of some evil mortist human, crippling an
upstanding
member of the mort community that had alerted John that Fergus had lost his sister while his brother would doubtless not see the outside of a prison cell for a long time. John had rightly assumed there would be more to the story than the lying media were giving away. How they showed images of the mort in his younger days, as a teenager playing football. The way they described him as an ‘aspiring musician’ who’d been wronged by evil humans. The way the liberal commentators had made out it was the fault of all humans that the dead committed crimes against them. And that humans must further change their ways and be additionally accommodating toward the dead community that nobody wanted to live amongst in the first place.

A gust of wind blew a cold sheet of rain against the two men, the bridge offering poor shelter from the elements. A man, shoulders hunched against the rain strode fast along the sidewalk further up the street. John waited for the man to disappear from earshot. “You weren’t at Human Pride the other week. We needed you.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that, but sometimes…”

“…but sometimes you need to wait until your own sister gets murdered and consumed before you come to your senses and decide to take any action, huh?” John said, cutting him off.

Fergus nodded. “You’re right, I should have seen all this before. I guess I got comfortable.” He paused, “how was Human Pride?”

John laughed, “didn’t you see how the news portrayed us as hate filled mortists for celebrating our culture?” The news had stated that there’d been several arrests made at the
Human Pride event
, leading the viewer to come to the natural conclusion the arrests would be of those celebrating the day and failing to mention the arrests were actually entirely made up of protesters. The cops had only made a move after the scum had rushed one of the floats that carried children.

“Yeah, and the kids?”

John exhaled, “Finn’s cool, doesn’t speak much, typical teenager. Shannon…”

“…I heard about Shannon. A close call. Thank god she didn’t end up like…” he couldn’t say Kim’s name. “You gonna help or what?”

John looked down and kicked at a loose chipping that lay on the ground.

“Right, I get ya.” He turned to leave but then turned back. “So now it’s you who’s not taking any action.”

John opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he watched as Fergus disappeared into the night.

Why? John saw what was happening around him; how every day the nation deteriorated that little bit more. So why was he himself unprepared to do anything about it?

He knew the truth. After two nights in a prison cell, his company on the verge of bankruptcy, feds stalking him wherever he went, his family being targeted, John knew exactly why further action on his part was out of the question - He wanted an easy life.

Privilege

“Before we get into the theme of today’s assembly,” Principal Blitzer said from the podium, “some of you may have noticed that several of your friends are not in attendance today.”

Finn followed the cue from several humans and looked around the hall. There were indeed several empty seats scattered about the assembly, but as usual many of those were of the mort kids. The morts tended to have a terrible attendance record for school in general, but morning assembly often left row after row of unclaimed seats, particularly at the back, where the morts preferred to sit. But today, for reasons unknown, there were many empty seats even at the front.

“It was brought to my attention that during Halloween, several pupils decided to green themselves up and dress as the dead. Not only that, but they ventured out trick or treating and proceeded to mimic the dead.” Blitzer stood with hands on hips, shaking his head, speaking in slow deliberate tones. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you just how mortist this was and as a consequence, I had no option other than to expel all pupils involved.”

Various ecstatic groans drifted over from the back five or six rows. This wasn’t fair. Finn had chosen not to participate in Halloween due to the increasing crime spree around his neighborhood, but they’d received several knocks on the door from the dead who were trick or treating and many were dressed as humans. Mortimer Jones had been one of those morts who’d knocked on the door and gone away with a few dollars in change. He’d worn a suit and tie with smart shoes. He’d even used makeup to make his skin appear more human. How was that for a double standard? Even now Mortimer sat three rows back wearing the same damn makeup, yet Blitzer didn’t expel him. Where was the consistency?

“You should all know,” Blitzer continued, “that they will have permanent black marks against their names and this will hinder their ability to get into a good college or find meaningful employment in the future.” He raised a finger and drew it across the entire front of the assembly. “Let this be a lesson to all those who think about being mortist in the future.”

Declan nudged Finn in the side. “What did I tell you? Fuckin’ zombies, man. Humans made this country and pretty soon we’re all gonna end up disenfranchised. Just watch.”

Finn turned back to face the front. He was slowly coming around to the idea that the dead were slowly gaining more and more power and always at the expense and detriment of humans and that living standards were becoming almost unbearable for many. But it hadn’t yet reached the point where Finn felt comfortable talking about such things – Unlike Declan and his dad. But there was no denying that authority figures were parroting one thing, but Finn’s eyes and ears were taking in a completely different message. “We’re not gonna become disenfranchised.” Finn told Declan, not quite believing his own words.

“Whatever.”

“Today we’ll be discussing the concept of
human privilege
.” Blitzer continued. “Can anybody tell me what human privilege is?”

A flurry of snapping jaws and clashing teeth emanated from behind. “Humans be mortist!” One of the morts drooled the words.

“Correct! Well done Mortinez.” Blitzer beamed at the entire back section then scowled as he returned his glare to the humans up front. “Because you are human, you will naturally find it easier to secure a place at college, particularly a prestigious college. This is because your fellow humans are all mortist and look favorably upon their own whilst discriminating against the dead.” He continued, “because you are human, you will find getting a job, particularly a good job far easier than your dead friends in this very same room. You are much more likely to climb the career ladder at a faster pace than those who happen to be dead. Once again, this is because of mortism and humans discriminating against the dead in favor of their own.”

Finn had always assumed humans progressed better within society because of their obvious higher intelligence. Who in their right mind would hire a dead guy before a human for say a job as an air traffic controller? And he’d always thought they progressed up the career ladder faster due to a better work ethic. Finn saw every day how the mort kids struggled to keep up with the human kids, would spend class time on their cell phones, ogling humans, starting fights and generally not giving a damn about English lit, science and geography. But there was Principal Blitzer saying it was all down to human privilege and mortism and not the fact that humans simply knuckled down and got on with things.

Once again, Finn realized he was being told one thing by so-called authority figures but was seeing and hearing something completely different.

“You humans should all check your privilege and think about giving up your college place and future careers to lend a hand to a struggling member of the dead community.” Blitzer paced about the stage now he was in full flow and had resorted to full animated hand gestures.

Declan raised a hand.

“Whoa, what’re you doing?” Finn tried to pull him down, but Blitzer was already pointing at him.

“You have a question?”

Declan stood as several hundred eyes, living and dead fixed on him. “It’s a great idea Principal Blitzer, I think I’m in agreement with you. But I think you should set us all an example and give up your lofty position for a poor dead guy who’s always worked really hard but struggled to become principal solely due to the fact he’s, um, dead.” Declan nodded to Blitzer. “Will you show us all the way and step down to allow a mort to take your place?” Declan sat and nudged Finn again with his elbow.

Silence for a few seconds.

Then the silence protracted for longer.

Blitzer pursed his lips, trying to find something to say.

He raised a finger as if he was about to say something, then when the words failed him, his hand returned to his side.

His mouth twitched, then his eyebrows.

How much time had gone?

“You be mortist.” One of the morts finally said from the back, causing Finn to turn around and look. At least three morts drooled at the necks of humans in front.

“That’s right – I’m sure you’re probably a mortist.” Blitzer finally spoke as he wiped a handkerchief across his forehead. “The very fact you’re even in such a high achieving school as Wellesley High is because of your human privilege. If you were dead then you’d be in one of the inner city dead ghetto schools.”

*