A New Normal

Nothing. That's what was left in his brain. A week of managing multiple projects, all in the discussion phase, would do that. He’d spent over half of each day that week in meetings, and his mind was numb. Now even the stop lights irritated him, as if they were all conspiring to keep him from home as long as possible.

He reflected on how quickly his life had returned to normal. Just five years ago, the world was in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. It was exactly like what he’d seen in movies and on TV, but it ended like none of them: the humans had rallied and won. And now, here he was, back at his job he’d had for five years before everything had gone crazy, promoted and just as apathetic about his life as before the pandemic had started.

The car in front of him stopped suddenly. “Christ, what now!” Andy said. He craned his neck to see a long line of brake lights, weaving down the road toward a mass of flashing emergency lights. He leaned back and started the long, slow journey past the accident scene.

Finally clearing the scene, Andy quickly accelerated out of the traffic jam, catching the details in his peripheral vision. A couple mangled cars, one dead victim shambling on the shoulder until an officer could catch her and put her out of her misery. He really didn’t care and despised rubberneckers enough to avoid being one. Thankfully, there was clear sailing all the way home.

Some government representative was droning about always keeping your Cranial Puncture Device nearby. Andy switched off the car as the man was repeating the number for the Death Emergency Response Team for the fourth time. He smiled as he remembered his coworkers laughing at how the federal government managed to name their latest agency after dirt. That broke the fog in his brain for a second, but he still just wanted to get in front of the TV with a beer and zone out for a few hours before going to bed.

“I’m home, Grandma!” Andy called out as he tossed his keys on the table and his briefcase on the floor. He heard her voice coming from the back room and headed that way.

Andy was proud of his house. The back room where his grandmother was sitting hadn’t even existed until he’d built it. That house and his grandmother were the only stable thing he had left from before the breakout. His parents, wife, and daughter were all killed, but somehow the house survived unscathed. Now, he opened the refrigerator he’d bought and grabbed a beer he’d brewed himself from the shelf. He pulled a glass from the cabinets he’d installed and filled it with the cold, amber liquid. Yes, life was pretty good in the post-apocalyptic world.

He went into the back room where he found his grandmother sitting in her rocker, eyes glazed as she stared at the TV. He kissed her on the forehead and lifted the remote from her TV tray. “What a day,” he told her. “I’ve never been so ready for the weekend. Sorry I’m late, by the way. Bad accident.”

He sunk into the couch and let the cushions absorb his weight. As he kicked his feet up, his thumb pressed the volume button. The room filled with the sounds of news anchors providing the latest events of the day.

“A three-car pileup on Highway 27 resulted in four deaths today,” the anchor said. “The drivers and passengers of two cars sustained only minor injuries, but the third vehicle was a pickup truck with six teens in the back. The passengers in the rear of the truck were thrown about 100 feet. Two passengers sustained multiple injuries, and the other four were killed on impact. One of the dead was terminated before she could reanimate, but the other three reanimated before police could arrive at the scene. One of those was on the shoulder and was terminated without incident.” The video that was running showed an officer reaching behind a woman’s head with a silver tube - the famous CPD - and moments later the dead woman collapsed.

“Yeah, I saw that one. Pretty crazy,” Andy said.

“Two of the dead were in a nearby field,” the anchor continued. “And once reanimated, walked into a residential area where they caused some children to panic before the DERT squad caught up with them and ceased their animation.” As she spoke, the video cut to a scene with two zombies staggering down a street. Children’s screams could be heard as officers with DERT stenciled in bright yellow on their backs took aim at the shambling corpses and fired bullets into their brains.

Andy hit mute and picked up his CPD from the coffee table. In his best official voice, he said, “That’s why I always keep mine handy.” He grinned at his grandmother as he presented the device with a flourish. “You never know when a zombie will be there.”

He looked at the cylinder in his hand. It really was an ingenious device. When the craziness started, the writers and producers of zombie franchises were hailed as heroes, as everybody quickly understood that the only way to kill a zombie was to destroy the brain or cut off the head. Initially, the methods were brutal. Whoever was nearby used whatever they had to shoot, smash, or remove the heads of the newly dead. Andy could vividly remember the sight of his wife, daughter, and parents in their coffins, all with various deceptions in place to keep grieving loved ones from seeing what everybody knew: their heads were not attached to their bodies. He still cringed when he saw a woman wearing a scarf.

The zombie apocalypse everybody had feared ended up not being as apocalyptic as Hollywood had imagined. In the end, only a few hundred people had died worldwide, as police and military forces quickly suppressed the shambling “hordes”. Andy was one of the very few people in the world to experience the level of loss he had from the outbreak.

Within days, the government had established DERT under the Department of Homeland Security. Zombies weren’t killing everyone, but something had happened and every person had a 75 percent chance of reanimating after death. DERT released several PSAs about the importance of understanding that when someone died, they were dead, and it was the responsibility of each citizen to ensure every dead person remained dead and didn’t become a threat. Two weeks later, they began distributing CPDs. The handy device made the act of “post-mortem termination” clean and easy. You simply placed the device at the base of the skull and pressed a button. A spring-loaded bolt punctured flesh and bone, then whirring blades shredded the brain. Andy didn’t exactly know how it worked, but it worked well. Unfortunately they also resulted in a significant tax hike that had set up many politicians with plenty of fodder for the next election.

“Our tax dollars hard at work,” he said wryly. His grandmother grunted her agreement. He looked over, his eyes softening as he looked at her sitting limply in her chair. The stroke she’d suffered a month ago had left her unable to walk or talk. She only stayed in the chair by virtue of the straps he’d wrapped around her. “I know, Grandma,” he said. “They have all this money to throw at a gadget to make killing the dead easier, but they can’t figure out how to make you better.” A tear escaped his eye and started coursing down his cheek. “But don’t worry, I won’t be taking you back to that quack again. Do you know he actually was trying to show me how to use this stupid thing on you?” He tossed the CPD onto the table with a curse. “He said it was only a matter of time before the stroke killed you. He said brain function would cease.” He thought back to the night he’d brought her home from the hospital. At one point, she looked so panicked, unable to comprehend what was going on. Then, a peace entered her eyes. For a moment, he thought she’d died, but then life returned and she was back. She was still held back by the consequences of her stroke, but she was alive at least.

Andy awoke with a start. He’d dozed off and was dreaming about the moment his family had died. He was haunted by the look in his father’s eyes as he told Andy to watch after his grandmother. It was the only thing that mattered he had said. Andy had promised to take care of her, and he had kept that promise. He looked over to his grandmother, still in her rocker, still transfixed on the TV. He went over and gently kissed her forehead. Her skin was cool under his lips, but she looked up towards him and made a gurgling sound in reply.

“Time for bed, Grandma,” he said, smiling. He reached down and loosened the strap around her chest, then the one around her waist. As he bent to pick her up, he heard a pounding at the door.

“Just a minute!” he called, and bent back down. But the pounding repeated, more intense this time. He gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be right back,” he said to his grandmother. Her lips curled in what he assumed was an attempt at a smile as he turned and went to the front door.

“Mr. Andrew Bell?” the man outside the front door asked. He flashed a badge with DERT emblazoned across the top. The two uniformed officers behind him said nothing and merely stood, looking as official as possible.

Andy nodded.

“We’ve received reports of unmanaged zombies in the area. Do you mind if we come in for a few minutes? We’re canvassing the area to see if anyone has seen anything.”

“I...haven’t really seen anything,” Andy replied.

“Do you mind if we come in anyway?” the man said. “Sometimes little things people see can help us. Friends acting different, patterns of walk…” his voice trailed off as he stared over Andy’s shoulder.

Andy turned around. His grandmother was there. Somehow, she had managed to get up and work her way into the front entryway. She shambled towards Andy, a puzzled look in her eyes.

“I got this sir,” one of the officers said, and pushed past Andy, moving towards his grandmother. Time slowed down. Hands grasped his forearms, pulling them behind his back. He felt handcuffs on his wrists.

“Andrew Bell,” a voice said from a great distance. The officer’s hand went to his belt, removing a silver cylinder. “You’re under arrest for failure to properly terminate the animated corpse of Frances Bell,” the voice continued. Andy tried to pull away, tried to scream, but his body felt like it was submerged in syrup. He saw the officer bring the cylinder behind his grandmother’s head. “You have the right to remain silent.” He didn’t want to remain silent, but he couldn’t manage to force any sound from his throat.

Finally, a single word escaped his tightening throat: “NOOOOOO!” He watched in horror as a button was pressed on the cylinder at the base of his grandmother’s skull. A look of bafflement seemed to spread across her face.

“Mr. Bell, please understand she’s not feeling anything,” that voice said again, this time with a touch of compassion. “She’s been dead for some time.”

Andy knew the voice was wrong. He knew he could see the life in her eyes. He knew he could see the puzzlement in them now, which changed to horror, then… nothing.