I rose and heard another shot. The left side of my abdomen exploded and I fell again. However, I’m not one of the nine percent who have their whole body as a weak spot. Despite the pain, I turned on my back and peered in the direction I heard the shot had come from. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Lenore. She still wore the long black dress from Samedi’s. Smoke rose from the barrel of the gun in her hand. She was standing next to the Baron.
“I’m impressed,” he said, “According to Lenore, that shot should have done you.”
He was right. After all, I belonged to the remaining one percent; the exotics that have their weak spot in some obscure part of the body, in my case, the spleen.
“But since you’re in pain, I must conclude there was a degree of truth to her claim,” he continued.
Again, he was right. That shot did take out my spleen, hence the pain ¾ a zombie only feels pains when its weak spot is damaged. However, thanks to the Army warlocks who magicked my weak spot to my appendix, I was still unlive.
“No matter,” he said, “A few more bullets and I’m sure we’ll hit something vital.”
“Whatever your plan is, Samedi, it won’t work,” I said, still in pain.
“Plan? You sound like a comic book character, Jimmy. And save the bravado, please. I know you came here all by yourself. You have a reputation as something of a maverick in the police department, even though you have that partner of yours, Gills.”
“His name is C.L. Black,” I forced between greeted teeth. Only his friends could call him Gills.
“Whatever. There’s nothing you can do now. The trucks have already left to deliver the flesh. That reporter though, she could have spoiled the whole scheme. I must confess her connections to the Gorgons took me by surprise, but luckily the police saw fit to send their most narrow-minded thananthrophobic detective to investigate the case.”
“What do you mean by trucks?” I asked, ignoring the insults and attempting to stall for time. His colossal arrogance, and perhaps my genuine look of confusion, made him explain the scheme.
“I had the idea several years ago, that’s why I invested in the flesh market — as you may recall, I’m the main importer and distributor of flesh in the city. I was inspired by Romero’s motto: all flesh must be eaten. But the key point here, Jimmy, is whose flesh must be eaten? When I realized that, I contacted some associates of mine overseas. After several years of research, they finally provided me with a mystically engineered flesh that will turn anyone who eats at least an ounce of it into one of us.”
One of you! I thought, but kept to myself.
“Of course, it won’t work on everyone. Other undead, for example, will be immune. That’s a minor problem though, since they represent a small proportion of the population. The important thing is that, once they join our ranks, they will feel our misery. They will know what it’s to be treated as the scum of society, to be…”
“Spare me the propaganda, Samedi,” I said, “I don’t buy you as a hero of the masses. There must be an angle here for you. Say, what tribe are all those people gonna be turned into? Surely not the Quick, or the Problem Solvers. I’d bet good money we are going to see a lot of Dead Joes, or even the Dumb. What else does this mystical flesh do? Make them more susceptible to suggestions?” I knew I had struck a chord when Samedi’s gleeful expression disappeared.
“I knew you were a selfish bastard the day you left us, Jimmy,” Lenore said, “Can’t you see he’s trying to help us all?”
“You’re not fooling me anymore. There must be something for you in this too, beside “happiness for all zombies” and all that crap!” I spat at her. She didn’t like my comment by her reaction. She pointed the gun at me and…
A shot rang. Her hand exploded. Another shot. Samedi’s chest exploded, blood flooding his white suit. Lenore fled and Samedi fell. Gills came running out of the darkness and helped me up. Good thing I had phoned him.
“Gurgle gurgle gurgle?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied.
“Gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle,” he said.
“I don’t care if I don’t look okay, I am! Look, we don’t have time for this. You gotta radio the precinct and tell them about the trucks and the flesh.”
“Gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle?” he asked.
“I’m going after her,” I said, grabbing my gun and limping after Lenore.