White Trash Zombie Apocalypse (White Trash Zombie 3)

A brief flash of disappointment touched his face, though it didn’t seem to be “Crap, I’m not getting my way,” and was more like “Darn, it would’ve been really nice to have that.” But he smiled and gave me an understanding nod. “Certainly. Not a problem.” He moved to a side door and unlocked it. “Come on in and see Kang.”

I followed, relieved that he wasn’t pushing the issue.

The chilly temperature and small size of the room reminded me of walking into the morgue cooler, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. A half dozen vats like oversized stainless steel crock pots lined a counter against the far wall, each with a white index card taped to the front.

Dr. Nikas twisted a knob on the wall near the door and increased the light level a bit. “They do best in low light,” he said, moving to the vat second from the left. “This is John Kang. You can look in through the glass lid, but remember that though he looks really bad, his brain is fully encapsulated by the parasite and is stable.” He paused, considering. “‘Hibernating’ might be a way of looking at it. Using minimal resources.”

Upon approach, I saw that the index card on the vat read “John Kang” in flowing handwriting that I had no doubt belonged to Dr. Nikas. Something about that personal touch gave me the feeling that he really cared about these heads as individuals and not simply as test subjects. Curiosity burning, I peered through the glass. Sure enough, it was Kang. Despite the head looking like a horror movie prop suspended in some sort of clear gel, I vaguely recognized his features. Like mummy wrappings, strips of cloth bound the stump of his neck, and his skin, though not falling apart in decay, was dark, ugly grey, and shriveled like a raisin.

“That is so gross. And cool,” I breathed.

Dr. Nikas smiled broadly. “Yes, I wholeheartedly agree on both counts,” he said. “I’m currently analyzing research data that may well solve my puzzle of the regrowth medium as well as boost our alternative brains research.”

I tore my gaze from the gruesome sight, looked over at him. “Alternative brains? You mean fake brains like Dr. Charish and Sofia were working on?”

“All of their data fed my research,” he said, nodding. A shadow of deep concern passed over his face. “I am close—so very close. But in light of some recent information, I am deeply troubled that Saberton may be near as well.”

I pushed away from Kang’s vat and moved to another. “Well what would be so bad about that?” I asked. “I mean, I know they’re assholes,” I paused, “serious major fucking assholes, but as long as someone develops an alternative, it’s all good, right?”

“Oh god, no,” Dr. Nikas replied, a hint of alarm in his voice. “Any non-zombie group developing them first would be bad. Saberton developing them first would be disastrous.” He shook his head. “A brains alternative is the holy grail for zombies—a salvation, the freedom to choose not to eat…people,” he continued. “In the hands of those who hold no love for our kind, it would be a means of control and manipulation.” He exhaled, ran a hand over his hair. “Saberton could use that to their advantage against us, and if they have a brains alternative, and we don’t, we’re, well, screwed.”

“But wouldn’t we still be able to get brains the old-fashioned way?” I asked. “I mean, the way we do now, at morgues and funeral homes?”

His eyes met mine. “Not if, or rather not when they go public with what we are—and who we are,” he said. “We manage to feed our people well with the network in place now. Enough people die to meet our needs.” His mouth pursed. “Yet do you think the public would allow any of us to work in the morgues and funeral homes, knowing that the brains of their loved ones would become our dinner? And that’s putting aside what the majority reaction would be to the knowledge that there are monsters in their midst.”

A shiver ran through me. I’d seen enough redneck prejudice to know exactly what the outcome would be. “Well, that sucks.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed, then gave me a faint smile. “Come on,” he said, heading for the door. “It’s freezing in here, and the conversation topic doesn’t help.”

He dimmed the light before exiting with me into the warmer hallway. “Fortunately I’ve made some breakthroughs with respect to conducting research on non-zombie test subjects. Which is important since it doesn’t risk crippling or disrupting the parasite in a true zombie.”

“That’s what happened to Philip!” I said, smugly pleased that I’d guessed correctly back when Charish messed him up. I even told Philip so at the time, but he was too busy trying to kill me to listen.

Dr. Nikas nodded. “Experimental food combined with parasite stimulants. A very ugly cocktail for a zombie. Long-term effects on the parasite.”

“What does that mean for the two he made?” I asked. “Tim Bell and Roland. I, uh, ran into them at the Gourmet Gala.” I made a sour face as I remembered that fun encounter. “Bell was screwed up and confused,” I continued. “At one point he grabbed cake instead of brains, and then it got ugly.”

“I don’t know, Angel,” he said, looking sincerely troubled. “I’ve never seen a case like it, and I don’t have much to go on other than Brian’s report of the incident. Bizarre, erratic behavior. I would need to run tests on them.”

I bit my lower lip as I thought. “You know, I had to maul the hell out of Philip to turn him,” I said, remembering how horribly natural it had felt. “The whole thing took a while—maybe fifteen minutes at least, and Marcus told me that’s the way it is supposed to be.” Dr. Nikas gave a nod of agreement, and I went on. “But Philip turned those two in a couple of minutes with one or two deep bites. Did it have something to do with the parasite stimulant Charish gave him along with the fake brains?”

Dr. Nikas smiled. “Exactly what I concluded based on what I knew. I am quite certain their parasite is crippled.” Then he exhaled, smile fading. “Impulsive creation of zombies, especially damaged ones, is not good for our kind. Very risky on many levels. Those two are poster children for why I don’t test alternative brains on true zombies.”

That reminded me of Dr. Nikas’s earlier comment about breakthroughs using non-zombie test subjects. “Wait. You have regular humans eat fake brains?” I made an eeeeew face.

“Oh, heavens no,” he said, and made just as much of an eeeeew face. “At least I would never do that. There is a way to cause a regular human to adopt various aspects of the zombie biochemistry, mimicking zombie traits for short periods without actual introduction of the parasite. Quite fascinating really. I have a small number of volunteers from our people with whom I work. Some employees, some family members of zombies.”

“That’s pretty damn nice of them to volunteer for a study that won’t directly benefit them,” I said.

“It is,” he agreed. “But they all truly believe it’s for everyone’s benefit to find an acceptable alternate for brains.”

Made sense. I could totally see myself volunteering if it was my dad who was the zombie.

“However,” he added, “it’s important that they be monitored closely, since it can be dangerous to mimic the parasite activity for too long. It limits our work somewhat, but I would have it no other way.”

Yep, I definitely liked Dr. Nikas.

We re-entered the main lab area, and I continued to shamelessly gawk at everything. Maybe after I got my GED I could start taking some college classes in biology or something like that? I mean, why the hell not? I needed to start looking beyond the next decade or so.