Zombie Leza - Cover

Zombie Leza

Copyright© 2017 by Vincent Berg

8: Getting to Know Leza

Thomas turned to Jefferson as both men surveyed the wide-open avenue stretching out—empty—before them. “You’re sure you want to do this? After all, you were the one ranting about how this was a trick to destroy us.”

“Absolutely,” Jefferson replied, juggling his backpack to ensure it was secure. “This is too valuable of an opportunity to ignore. I’m still not sure what she’s up to, but if she can help us learn how to combat these creatures, then it’s a worthwhile investment, even if it turns out badly in the end.”

“I hate to remind you, if you get killed during this mission, the Collective will be significantly hampered. I’m all for this project, but I’d feel much better if you remained behind, maintaining security during everyone else’s absence.”

Jefferson chuckled. “Thanks for the acknowledgment. Sometimes I wonder how much you value my efforts, since it’s so infrequently requested and you bitch whenever I insist on security protocols. However, out of everyone, I’m the best equipped for this. I’ve spent the longest in the wild, surviving on my wits, and I’m better at defending myself. If things go to hell, I’m more likely to survive. If everything works out, I stand to learn more than anyone else can.”

“I can’t argue that,” Thomas said, observing those waiting outside the Compound’s walls with them, “but I’m nervous risking so many valuable fighters in one shot.”

“Wait, I think I see her,” Red exclaimed, pointing into the distance as a single figure came into view.

Thomas turned, meaning to flag the guards on the gate, but the front door opened and a woman, balancing a large bowl exited, while someone held the door for her. In short order, another two came out, placing the three bowls containing fresh, warm blood against the edge of the stockade. With a glance at the lone figure leading an army of the undead, they scurried back inside, bolting the gate behind them.

“I’m nervous, standing near open containers of blood with so many bloodthirsty savages nearby,” Red observed. “Once they catch a whiff of blood, they’re liable to turn primal and attack.”

“It’s a sign of trust,” Thomas explained. “We debated it. It was felt it conveyed that we trust her control of her ... people,” he continued, still having trouble with the phrase.

“Remember,” Phillip said, leaning over to whisper in Red’s ear, “keep your hands off your knife. Once you pull it, all bets are off.”

Red sighed, dropping his hand and flexing his fingers. “This is just such an agonizing wait.”

When Leza was still a ways off, she paused, waved her arm, halting the zombies arrayed behind her and continued on alone, this time wearing a bright orange dress. She continued singing as she approached. She got close enough to make out their blood offering, and turned, signaling her followers. A group of ten took off at a trot, rushing ahead while she held back. The crew by the gate held their breath, their fingers twitching. The group approached, once again in surprisingly good health for those long dead. Everyone watched as they neared the first bowl. Each bent, sipping a handful of the blood, before standing and trotting back, wiping their crimson drool from their lips. It was a short, effective process. When they were all on their way back, Leza signaled the next crew, who headed in to take their place.

“You’ve got to admit,” Thomas said quietly, “she’s got them incredibly well-trained. I’d never have believed they were capable of such restraint.”

“You’re right,” Red agreed. “I was sure, once they smelled blood, everything would go to hell!”

“Nope,” Jefferson said. “Despite still not trusting her, she clearly knows what she’s doing. There’s no way a human could live among zombies unless they’ve got absolute control of every moment.” He paused. “I suspect her request for the fresh blood was simply a way of showing off her techniques.”

Thomas shook his head. “I can’t believe you won’t let it go already.”

The entire procedure took quite a while, feeding hundreds in groups of ten. Those watching, including most of those within the Compound, weren’t sure whether they all sampled the offering or not, but it was evenly distributed amongst those who did. The last several groups took significantly longer, since they were the least healthy, many missing limbs or badly injured. The last were reduced to licking the bowls, removing the last drops of vital, life-giving fluids.

When they finished, Leza signaled her people, and they turned, wandering off on their own as she advanced. Those observing studied the retreating figures to ensure they didn’t wander into the surrounding woods where they might prove a liability. None did, as they remained an organized collection even without Leza’s direct control.

Leza closed the distance, greeting her welcoming committee.

“I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you’d go through with it. I expected you to remain inside until the bowls were cleaned.”

“It was an impressive display,” Thomas acknowledged. “Your level of control is ... incredible.”

“Not really. It’s amazing what they’re capable of once you get them to think for themselves. It’s a long climb back, but they each possess the potential for rational thought. What’s more, if they consume small amounts of blood over time, they won’t become so frantic they become dangerous.”

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