The System

“Huh,” was all Grant could think to say. He wished she wouldn’t. He wished she would just enjoy seeing everyone again. “Will you tell her that I said that…”

“I’ll stop you right there,” Scott interrupted. “You have to know Lucy well enough now to know that telling her something won’t change what she thinks.” He leaned against the counter. “This is a huge adjustment and there’s no easy way to explain—” Scott motioned around the room in a sweeping gesture.

Grant let the chain rise and fall and hit the metal bed. It clunk-clunk-clunked in the small room. Then he let his eyes scan the small room; all the vials and science equipment.

“Hey, I have a question…it’s embarrassing,” Grant said after a moment.

“I don’t do embarrassing,” Scott answered quickly and turned to walk away. “I’d send an assistant in…but I’m afraid it’s just me and you, kid. So, sorry. I’m sorry. Never could do any of that stuff even with my own kids—”

“No—” Grant called to him, backpedaling. “No. Not like, you know, physically embarrassing. Or personal…no…nothing like that. I wanted to ask about…” he paused and then decided just to say it. “Zombies?”

“Zombies.”

“Yeah, you know, the undead. Flesh-eating dead people.”

“I know what zombies are,” Scott answered. “What do you want to know about them?”

“Can they happen? In real life?”

Scott took a tentative step back toward Grant and tilted his head to the side, regarding Grant with equal parts amusement and concern. “You want to know if zombies are real?”

“Could be real. It’s just…you’re a scientist and all. You study viruses, right?”

After a delay, Scott nodded.

“Mythologically speaking a virus is one way zombies happen. Virus. Zombies. And so, could all of the people who died of the virus…just…you know…”

Scott laughed and the sheer volume of it scared Grant into silence. He stopped talking and looked at the man sidelong. All of the pictures at the King house showed him with a reserved smile—never showing his teeth—his arms wrapped around Maxine, who always looked a few years older than him. The patriarch of the King brood mastered photographic stoicism. But here, he seemed lively and jovial; endearing even, and Grant did not know how to marry the Scott King he expected and the Scott King standing before him. He waited until Scott was done laughing and then looked at him, unblinking.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said and he held up a finger. Then he grabbed a chair from the corner and dragged it over to Grant’s bedside. Sitting across from Grant, crossing one leg and leaning over, Scott smiled. “Okay. No. The bodies killed by the virus are dead. Gone.”

“Okay,” Grant answered, waiting with baited breath to see if Mr. King would indulge him.

“If you’re asking whether or not zombies are scientifically disproven, however, then I can’t answer no. I don’t have empirical evidence, but there is some anecdotal evidence that might support zombies.”

“English,” Grant replied.

“I haven’t seen any. Don’t expect to. Research suggests…maybe.”

“Maybe.” Grant smiled.

Scott leaned in a bit further. “We’re not talking about an army of the undead. That’s impossible. Once people are dead, they are, in fact, dead. But there are medicines that can simulate death and chemicals that can cause a zombie-like reaction. People have been known, anecdotally, to die and then have vague recollections of their behavior for an extended period of time. But those are not real deaths…they are chemically simulated deaths.”

“That’s not the same,” Grant said and he felt a bit let down. He was hoping Lucy’s father could answer this question for him once and for all.

“Maybe not a Hollywood version of zombies, but if someone was close to death and spent time in a zombie-like state? And perhaps that state had lowered inhibitions or hallucinations? Well, then, that is quite remarkable.”

“Would those zombies like brains?”

“No way of knowing,” Scott replied. “Seems a trial would be needed to measure a chemically simulated zombie’s desire for human flesh.”

Grant smiled. “Awesome.”

“We wondered if the virus we were creating would in fact create a zombie-like phenomenon,” Scott revealed in a whisper. “If the virus damaged part of the brain, but left vital organs working and functioning. But that wasn’t our desire. And, ultimately, none of our test subjects succumbed in that fashion, which is good.”

“You wanted to kill people. Done and done.”

Spoken plainly, Scott bristled. He frowned and tapped his hand against the metal bedframe.  Then he lifted his head and nodded. “Yes. We did.”

“You’re very honest,” Grant replied.

“When discussing science, I appreciate the truth. Other things? Not so much. I appreciate the good white lies, the social niceties. By nature I’m inclined to lie…but honesty is a precept of our new world. I’m getting used to it.” Scott clapped his hands and then put them in front of him. His forehead glistened.

Grant tried to force a smile: honest murders, such a relief. “Okay…what happens to me? Since we’re being so truthful.”

The question took Scott off guard and he leaned back in his chair. He glanced to the door and then to a small camera in the corner of the room. For a few seconds, he was gone in some faraway place, and then he looked right at Grant and shook his head.

“We pla

“For?” Grant raised his eyebrows.

“How to…go forward.”

Grant understood. He just wanted to hear Scott say it. It meant something to be told firsthand and not treated like an imbecile. “Spell it out for me, Mr. King,” Grant said. “I’ve been through a lot in my life. I can handle whatever you say.”

“If we know how you lived…we can figure out what could possibly help you…expire. You in the collective sense. You, as in, people like you. Assuming I discover that there’s an explanation. Maybe you really are some singular miracle. Either way…if there are others like you, it would be our intention to…”

“Kill us.”

Scott nodded once.

“Right,” Grant picked at the threads on his pants. “I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll run tests and experiments…and ultimately, one of them will kill me.”

Scott exhaled through his nose in a short burst and looked at Grant. “You are just one person. It would help if I had a room of people like you…only then would my data mean anything. For now, I will settle with seeing if I can find any markers or indicators that would appear to give you immunity. After that…I honestly don’t know.”

Grant handled his sentence thoughtfully. “Do I have to stay like this?” he motioned to the shackles.

“I can see about getting you permanently settled in a room.”

“Honest and humane. I like your style,” Grant tried to muster a smile, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “So,” he said after a moment, “no zombies from the virus…but maybe zombies sometime.”

“What’s your fascination with zombies, kid?” Scott asked as he stood up and moved his chair back to the corner of the room.

“No reason,” he replied. “Just a childhood fascination, I guess.” But as Scott unearthed the vial of his blood from his coat and placed it in a tray and began making a list of experiments to run on Grant, he knew why he was drawn to the creatures. They were tenacious and unrelenting. Even after claimed by death, they didn’t stay dead. He’d been drawn to zombies before the virus—their gruesome affect, his confidence in surviving them. Grant knew that if zombies attacked, he could help save the world from destruction. Only, the world had fallen into destruction anyway and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.