Pandemic

03:18 Hrs, September 12th

Unknown location, Northern Desert

A sound woke Vincent up instantly. His eyes darted frantically across the wasteland for the source. There was nothing but rocks, dead plants, and scraps of metal. He laid back down and pretended to sleep, knowing that if anything was truly sneaking up on him he would trick it into movement. He listened intently to the silence for quite some time before sleep overtook him again.

Only seconds after he fell asleep a gunshot echoed through the desert. Vincent jerked to life and saw what looked like a dead zombie only several feet away. Fear overtook logic and he huddled in the corner of his shelter, his gun pointed at the strange zombie. The silence was broken again, this time by approaching footsteps. Another zombie appeared in front of him. Vincent raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

The rifle was jammed.

"Planning on shooting your savior?" It was no zombie, but rather a man holding a pistol.

Vincent was lost for words, a series of emotions struggled for dominance within him. "You're the guy from the Guillotine Squad I'm supposed to meet up with aren't you?"

"Yup. I was the unlucky one. Next time cover your weapons up when you walk through the desert. They won't jam with sand that way. Mark." He held out his hand.

"Vincent." They shook hands. Mark didn't let go. Instead he pulled the teenager to his feet.

"I already know your name. Olivia told me."

"The lady on the radio?"

"The one and only." He motioned towards the horizon. "Let's get moving."

Vincent slung his belongings over his shoulder, then caught another glimpse of the white zombie. "What's wrong with it? It's so pale."

"There's nothing wrong with it. We call them stalkers. A zombie with heightened intelligence. They ambush sleeping people and kill them. They can focus their hearing to magnify a specific sound." Mark shivered slightly. "They listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat to make sure you're asleep."

The thought was unsettling. "But why don't all of them do that if that's when we're most vulnerable?"

Mark hesitated, then drew out a knife and jabbed it into the zombie's gut. He cut a letter "I" into its chest, put away the knife, and put on a pair of gloves. "The reason some are stalkers and some aren't is because the older ones are maturing now." He pulled back the two flaps of white leathery skin carefully, revealing a creature unlike anything Vincent had ever seen.

The closest thing it resembled was a squid, having countless barbed tentacle-like structures protruding from the wide end of a conical head. Razor sharp teeth ran from the tip of the cone to the base on four sides. It was like it had two mouths, one vertical and one horizontal, that intersected at the center. Red eyes stared back at him lifelessly. "What the hell is that thing?"

"It's a premature Adult." He tediously took off the gloves.

"I-I don't get it."

"Let's walk and talk at the same time."

They left the partially submerged truck, Vincent continuously looking back at the creature making sure it was dead.

"Let me start by asking you this." Mark began. "Do you know what it is that infects us?"

He thought for a moment. "A virus or a parasite or something?"

"It's actually a parasite. Do you know what a parasite is?"

"Not really."

"A parasite's an organism that lives in a host, using the host to fill its necessities. Usually fatally. This particular parasite feeds off of human flesh and bone. The parasites that infect a victim will feed and reproduce on large scales until there is nothing left, except for skin. Using an unknown chemical reaction the parasites turn the skin leathery and cause it to grow in thickness. After that an alpha-male is chosen within the hollowed host. Once that occurs the zombie becomes fully functional."

Vincent was confused. "But wait. How does it move if it doesn't have muscles, bones, or nerves?"

"It's a little complicated."

"Dumb it down for me."

"I can try." Mark paused for several seconds. "You know the brown liquid that sprays out when you shoot a zombie?"

"I saw my dad shoot one once."

"All that the liquid consists of are the parasites and the wastes they excrete. The parasites are the liquid. Understand so far?"

"Kind of…I think so."

"What were the things you mentioned again?"

"Muscles, bones, and nerves?"

"Yes! Exactly! They have their own equivalents of those. They have a sort of transmission system that relays information from one parasite to the next all the way to the alpha-male and the other way around. It's just like a nervous system, only a little inferior, that's all."

"But what about bones and muscles?"

"I-" Mark thought for a moment. "Picture a beetle. They have no bones. Just an exoskeleton that holds them together. The skin, because of how thick and hardened it's made, acts as an exoskeleton for the zombie."

"But what about muscle?" This was what Vincent was most curious about.

Mark tried to find a way to explain this phenomenon. "Imagine a water bed. You lay down on one side. What happens?"

"One side shrinks, the other bulges."

"Exactly. One side constricts while the other expands, the exact mechanics of muscles"

Vincent didn't reply. He had trouble accepting these things. They were so different from anything he had been taught at school. He had trouble believing that such a simple creature could bring down mankind in such a short time span. Then another question emerged. "Mark, how come the zombies don't drain out and die when they're shot?"

"How come you don't bleed to death when you're cut? Same situation, similar result. The waste the parasites excrete reacts with the oxygen and forms a scab of sorts. Depending on the size of the wound and the zombie it can heal almost instantly."

"But what happens if the alpha-male is lost in the initial spray of liquid?"

"In regular zombies the alpha-male is replaceable, and will be momentarily immobilized until a new one is chosen. If the alpha-male in a stalker was killed the zombie would die. That's why stalkers, as fragile as they are, only hunt sleeping people."

"Have any of the stalkers matured yet?"

"Yes. But thankfully stalkers need to feed once or twice before maturing into Adults, and there aren't many easy victims left to prey on, so their numbers are pretty low."

This all made sense to Vincent, but one thing was still bugging him. "But then what is Alpha-Prime?"

"That's a whole other story for another time. Just remember to ask me about it tomorrow or something. Just know this. We manufactured our own demise in every way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. We're here. This is the Guillotine Squad."

They approached the encampment quietly, passing several sentries along the way. A few tents were placed inside the camp, but Mark led him towards a group of people sleeping outside. "Get some sleep. We'll need you at 100 percent from now on."

"What am I gonna be doing?"

"Tomorrow. Now get some rest. Everything will be explained then." He walked away, disappearing into a tent.

Vincent stood silently for a minute, then stretched out on the ground to sleep. His dreams were corrupted by the strange creature that dwelled within every zombie, and by the infamous Alpha-Prime creature which was thought to be immortal.