Spies + Zombie Training = Really Big Bonuses (Part 1)

Agent Connors

Time: 13:10

Location: The Viewing Tank Outside of Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

“Let me get this straight: because you are so paranoid about having a zombie apocalypse, you hired someone to create zombies so you can train your agents against them?” I asked my boss, Ms. Director. “Doesn’t that seem like… I don’t know… a bad idea?”

Ms. Director ripped out the check from her checkbook and handed it to Pal. “Yes, why do you ask?”

I turned back to the window wall of the Viewing Tank. On the other side was the complete opposite of the calm, clean, well-lit Viewing Tank. A desolate town with half-standing buildings and poor-lighting hosted a horde of zombies, hiding in between the cracks. Basically, a mini post-apocalyptic world, completely sectioned off from the rest of Earth. A few screams of my colleagues echoed from within. One was particularly high-pitched. “Was that… Agent Justine?” I asked.

“Perhaps?” Ms. Director said.

“Good, she kept stealing all my pens.” I jabbed a thumb at the window as I spun around to face Ms. Director. “God, it must suck to be out there. How many of your agents are you gonna train?”

“Well, all of them actually.”

I laughed. “Man, that’s so crazy, because I’m one of your agents, but I’m in the Viewing Tank instead of out there. Haha. Isn’t that funny? Ms. Director?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she shot Pal a look and he pressed a point on the control table. A glass tube shot up from the floor and locked me in place. I punched the glass, but my hand bounced off harmlessly. Whipping out my gun, I shot it twice. Damn. Bullet proof.

As the tube started sinking into the zombie farm, I called out, “I better get a pay bonus for this!”

Ms. Director held a hand to her ear. “What?”

The ground reached my waist. “I know you can hear me. I can hear you just fine and there’s no such thing as one-way hearing.”

“What?”

The ground crept up my face, I peered up at Ms. Director in my last moment before it swallowed me. “Pay. Bonus.”

Darkness surrounded me for a brief second. A steel door slid open and I could view the zombie farm from my glass tube. A thin fog pooled around me like someone was trying to cover the acres of zombie farm land with one fog machine.

After clearly approaching me in the thin fog, a zombie bit the tube, letting it’s bloody drool roll down the tube. My eyes flickered over the zombie’s ruined clothes—a pen with my organization’s logo on the clip and my name on the side. Agent Justine.

So these zombies were actually managing to kill our agents, huh? I held up my gun as the tube slowly opened up. Bring it on.

Former Agent Justine lunged at me. Guess these zombies were fast. I ducked and rolled out. Kicking her calves, she stumbled into the tube. I shot her once, in the chest. Her rotting hand still reached up towards me. Second bullet, clean through her right eye. Blood splattered aside the tube, and it was no longer see-through.

I gazed out into the stereotypical zombie field-mine. With only my Glock 26, and two clips on me, I headed out.

***

Agent Lincoln

Time: 14:15

Location: Inside of Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

At the crack of dawn, my boss brought me and two dozen other special agents into Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm that he had commissioned with his ex-wife before the divorce when they split their money and secret organization since they had the same paranoid beliefs and loose morals. She was gonna drop off her agents around 13:00 from her rival half of the organization and he didn’t want to be around for that. It’s been about eight hours, I’ve lost track of the other agents. I’m certain the fast-moving zombies got at least a few.

Currently, I’m staked out in the second story of a ‘store’. It really feels like Pal was trying to make it into some kind of store, then kept forgetting which kind it was. On the first floor, there’s cold cuts, skinny jeans, allergy pills, and a car with no keys. The second story is just full of sweaters and desks.

By tying together a few sweaters and stacking some desks, I created a fort along the side of the room with windows outlooking the fake town. I’ve been camped out here since noon and I don’t plan on leaving until cold cuts run out. Or until 20:00. That’s when Mr. Director—my boss—said he’ll be collecting the surviving agents. Pal said something about the zombies becoming ‘____’ during the night—I wasn’t listening, but Mr. Director didn't want any of his agents around for it.

The sun slowly trailed across the sky. Soon.

Without warning, something clashed loudly outside. I raced to the window to see what. I groaned. It was just some idiot that tripped over a group of metal trash cans. They scrambled to their feet, accidentally kicking trash can lids everywhere as more zombies came rushing over. What an idiot.

I squinted. Wait a minute, I know that idiot. That’s—

***

Agent Connors

Time: 14:17

Location: Inside of Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

Oh crap. There’s zombies everywhere doing everything. There’s a zombie to my left. To my right. Inside a dumpster. Behind the dumpster. Petting their pet zombie mouse. Paying off my credit card debt?

I glanced around. None of them were. I shrugged. Worth a try. I somersaulted, picking up a metal trash can lid on the ground. Using it as a shield, I shot a zombie through the eye as another tried to eat me through the shield. I banged it against its head, creating an opening to dash through. Or so I thought.

Another zombie grabbed my shirt, ripping it as I fell to the ground. They piled up, and I crawled into a trash can, sealing it with the lid. The zombies kicked the can as I tried to form a new plan. Nothing.

I groaned as they started to shake the trash can. I better get a fat bonus for this.

***

Agent Lincoln

Time: 14:20

Location: Inside of Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

Should I help her? After a few minutes of uncoordinated attacks, one of the zombies held up a finger, picked up the trash can, jumped on a dumpster, then threw the trash can on the ground creating a huge dent in it.

If I don’t, she’ll probably die. I shrugged and went back to my cold cuts. Oh well.

As I cut into my cold cut, it occurred to me: if I didn’t save her, I’d just run into some other agent from my organization’s rival. It’d probably be Agent Justine. I stabbed my cold cut. Ugh, I hate that girl. She always steals my pens and is terrible at witty banter.

Alright, I’ll save Agent Connors.

Jumping onto a strategically placed, comically large box of sweaters on the ground outside my fort’s window, I crouched and prepared for my assault. With a combat knife in each of my hands, I attacked.

Three zombies went down in three slashes. One grabbed at my arm, but I spun around and cut through its arm like warm butter. I high-kicked it in the face, stabbing it in the eye with a retractable knife peeking out of the tip of my boot. After it fell on the ground, limp, I relaxed. They were all taken care of.

Two swift knocks to the metal trash can’s lid and smug ‘Hello, is anyone in there?’ later, Agent Connors crawled out with a face as red as a tomato. “I didn’t need your help, you know.” She brushed off her outfit, holding her nose high.

I cracked a grin. “Oh yeah? Because a couple of zombies had you trapped in a trash can. You know, they may be brain dead, but you’ve never had a brain.”

Agent Connors raised her gun and just as I thought she was about to shoot me, she shot past my shoulder, taking out a zombie clean in the eye, twenty yards away. “I didn’t need a brain to kill a zombie,” she said as she blew on the hot gun barrel. Confusion crossed her face. “Wait a minute—”

I threw my hands up in the air. “You said it—not me.”

Her lips curled into an irritated snarl. “Listen, babe, I can kill zombies better than you and faster than you because I’m better than you and quicker than you. What do you use? Medieval knives? Meanwhile I’m packing the heat.”

I read my lucky knife’s handle. “This was made in 1999.”

“Olllllllldddddd.”

“That’s not old.”

“Psst. It so is. I’m not even that old.”

“You’re—you’re not?”

“Duh, I’m nineteen.”

“Nineteen? Oh my gosh, you’re a baby.”

“What? What are you, like thirty?”

“Thirty? Why I never—”

She smirked. “Yeah, you’re definitely at least thirty.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

She flicked her hand at me, brushing it off. “Whatever you sa—what a minute, were you given that knife when you were one?”

“Yeah, why?”

Agent Connors sputtered a little. “Wha-why? Because then you were the baby. A baby can’t kill people.”

I rubbed my hands across my face, exasperated. In the shadows, a few zombies crept closer, trying to sneak up on us. “Okay, you know what? We’re getting nowhere and zombies are coming. Let’s settle this with a little competition. Our bosses are going to get us out at eight, but let’s see who can kill the most zombies before then. Starting… now.” 

***

Agent Connors

Time: 19:56

Location: Inside of Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

My bullet blew through two zombies heads in a straight line. “That’s one hundred and fifty-seven,” I called out, eyeing Agent Lincoln in the corner.

While he stabbed another, I crouched next to my kill—another former agent—and took what ammo I could from it. It was the way to get enough bullets to win. I stuck my hands into its bloody blazer, rotting guts squishing against my hand. I gagged, wishing this wasn’t so disgusting. “That’s one hundred and fifty-eight for me,” Agent Lincoln echoes back. A zombie dropped at his foot.

I cursed. Glaring at me, the sun had almost disappeared under the horizon. It would be night soon, and our bosses would come to collect us any minute. I swiveled around us. Dammit. There were no zombies around. And Agent Lincoln was winning.

With a smug smile on his face, he strolled over, “Well, it looks like I won.” He pointed at the sun. “You’re out of time. And zombies.”

I huffed. No way I was letting his smug ass win. I just needed one more.

There.

From inside the mini, fake forest to my right came a rustling sound. A zombie. I shoved a new clip into my gun. “We’ll see about that.”

I sprinted into the forest, letting the branches scratch me. Where was that sound?

A voice cracked over my ear piece—Ms. Director. “All surviving agents, please return to the Entrance Tubes at this time—“

I ripped it out of my ear and into my pocket. This was no time for distractions. Thick, green bushes surrounded me as I stood in a small clearing. Above me, the tree tops covered the sky. My breathing slowed as my pupils dilated, adjusting to the darkness. Where was it?

The rustling got louder to my left. I shot into the bush twice. No reaction. Damn.

Picking up a hefty, long branch, I poked the bush. No reaction. The rustling stopped.

Where did it go? After fiddling with the branch and bush for another minute, it became clear the zombie wasn’t in it. I plowed through the bush to see where it went. One the other side, the forest ended. In its place was a ten foot high chain fence with barbed wire that surrounded the entire zombie farm.

At least it was supposed to, but there was a giant, zombie sized hole in it.

Oh, shit.

***

Agent Lincoln

Time: 20:02

Location: By the Entrance Tubes at Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm

The sun was almost set and the Entrance Tubes were twenty feet from me. This whole play-pretend-but-still-could-actually-die apocalypse was finally going to be behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as I jogged over to it. Huh. Agent Connors wasn’t here yet. I shrugged. Not my problem.

I stood by the tubes, waiting for them to open. They never did. Instead, fifty-foot metal walls shot up from the ground, encasing the entire farm.

If they had walls that big this entire time, why didn’t they use them?

The Entrance Tubes retracted, empty, into the Viewing Tank. “Wait!” I shouted.

Behind me, Agent Connors jogged up to me. “So, I have some bad news…”

“Attention. Attention. Pal’s Friendly Zombie Farm is now on total lockdown. No one is permitted into or out of the farm until further notice.”

The sunset blacked out as the horizon swallowed the sun. A deep growling came from the night’s shadows. Well, shit.