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Zombietown, part 1

21/10/2009

Her body lay lifeless on the street. Even in its current mangled state, I could see she had been a beautiful woman. Her gray scaly skin contrasted strikingly with her black skirt and green blouse, even though they were soaked with blood. Some of her hair had been pulled out, but there were enough snakes left to show she cared about her appearance. Her left arm was missing, apparently bitten off. Not surprising, since we were half a block from Zombietown.

Zombietown. I had sworn I’d never go back to Zombietown again. I had left all that misery behind me. I wasn’t one of them anymore.

“Gurgle.” Gills, my partner, broke my reverie. A good thing too. I didn’t want to waste time thinking about Zombietown.

We walked towards the head forensics guy, Digger.

“So, Digger, what’s the score?” I asked.

“Valadares, Gills. Well, I only have preliminary data, but I’m pretty sure it was a shambler.” He meant a zombie. Like me. No, not like me. I wasn’t one of them anymore. Nobody outside Zombietown calls them zombies. It’s always “shambler”, or “deadmeat”, or “brainjunkie,” or a dozen other nicknames.

“Can you give us a tribe?” I asked. Even though most people think of zombies as just one big, stupid, lurching, flesh-eating group, in truth there are several tribes.

“I’m a ghoul, Valadares, not a psychic. I’ll need to run a few tests back at the lab,” he said, rising to face us. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his glasses. “Anyway, what’s the rush? She wasn’t anybody special. The officers found her purse. Her name was Medea Boid, a reporter with the Dusk Diary. Have you heard of her? Me neither. So it’s not like we’re going to be pressured to solve this case. She probably went in there looking for some shambling action and things got a little out of control.

“Relax, Valadares. It’s Zombietown.”

He was right, of course. Nobody gave a damn about what happened in Zombietown, least of all me. I had sworn I’d never go back to Zombietown again.

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