flock of ducks heading south. Jack had never been farther south than he was right now, but the stiff winds prompted some thoughts about sunny beaches in Florida.
Don spoke:
“Jack, with government, it always starts as something small; an alleged act of sympathy and compassion in the name of some noble cause. But when you plant an evil seed—and you water it—it grows like a weed and spreads as fast as a forest fire.”
“How can a mindless thing be evil?”
Don almost gaped as his statement.
“Anything that takes a human life without fear or remorse is evil, Jack, especially when it eats them. What did they teach you in college, anyway?”
“I’m just looking at it from the zombie’s point of view.”
Don laughed out loud as he held his hand to his head and said, “Their point of view? They don’t have a point of view. They don’t have a mind.”
His uncle was becoming winded as he spoke, and he began waving his arm overhead. Jack’s heart jumped in his chest.
“Uncle Don!? Uncle Don, are you alright? Is it a heart attack?”
Oliver, the bodyguard, was at his uncle’s side and holding out a small plastic canister. Don grabbed the inhaler and sucked the mist into his mouth.
“Is there anything I can do?” Jack said as he scooted over closer. His own heart was thumping behind his temples. He had never seen his uncle in such bad shape before. His uncle took another puff and waved him off. Then a fit of coughing followed. “Do something, Oliver!”
“He’s fine. It’s just an asthma attack. Just give him a few seconds. What did you say to him, anyway?”
Jack wasn’t paying Oliver any mind, though; his thoughts were only on his uncle.
“I’m fine,” Don managed to croak out. “I’m okay; it happens. Thanks, Oliver,” he said, handing the man back the inhaler.
“Shouldn’t you keep that in your pocket?” Jack suggested.
“No,” Don grinned, “I like to live dangerously. Now where were we? Oh I remember. Hey Oliver, Jack was just telling me about the zombies’ point … of … view. Care to listen in?”
Oliver glared at Jack, shook his grim face in disgust, and walked away. Jack began to feel uneasy.
“Ah … he probably wouldn’t understand, seeing how zombies killed his wife and children. You see, it’s going to be very hard to convince someone that a zombie had a good reason to do that.”
Jack felt himself shrinking underneath the twinkling gaze of his uncle. He was only reiterating what he had learned from the zombie psychology courses he took in college and from the training he had received from the WHS. He felt like a fool at the moment as he looked away from his uncle.
“Sorry, Uncle Don. I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you okay now?” he said, finding the courage to look back. He’s getting old, but I’ve got to be tougher than him. Shake it off. He’s weak.
“Of course, and so is Oliver. Now, honestly Jack, do you really think that zombies can actually do good things? I’m not talking about with our help. I’m talking about doing good things of their own free will?
“I suppose not. But, they’re making progress. Maybe. The XT Formula is allowing us to do some amazing things.”
Don huffed, coughed a little more, and took another drink of coffee.
“Well, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been hearing about things with the XT and —”
“You have? When?” Jack said, sounding disappointed.
“Easy now, I’ve only heard that you’ve been overseeing some breakthroughs. I don’t know what they are because I wanted to hear it from you first. That’s why we’re here. Now show me what you got.”
Jack was excited. It was something like the first time he took his favorite toy, Buzz Lightyear, to school for show and tell. His nimble fingers were quick at work when an image emerged. It was a view of a room full of zombies that panned back and forth in a quirky pattern. It seemed as if the person holding the camera wasn’t really paying
Don spoke:
“Jack, with government, it always starts as something small; an alleged act of sympathy and compassion in the name of some noble cause. But when you plant an evil seed—and you water it—it grows like a weed and spreads as fast as a forest fire.”
“How can a mindless thing be evil?”
Don almost gaped as his statement.
“Anything that takes a human life without fear or remorse is evil, Jack, especially when it eats them. What did they teach you in college, anyway?”
“I’m just looking at it from the zombie’s point of view.”
Don laughed out loud as he held his hand to his head and said, “Their point of view? They don’t have a point of view. They don’t have a mind.”
His uncle was becoming winded as he spoke, and he began waving his arm overhead. Jack’s heart jumped in his chest.
“Uncle Don!? Uncle Don, are you alright? Is it a heart attack?”
Oliver, the bodyguard, was at his uncle’s side and holding out a small plastic canister. Don grabbed the inhaler and sucked the mist into his mouth.
“Is there anything I can do?” Jack said as he scooted over closer. His own heart was thumping behind his temples. He had never seen his uncle in such bad shape before. His uncle took another puff and waved him off. Then a fit of coughing followed. “Do something, Oliver!”
“He’s fine. It’s just an asthma attack. Just give him a few seconds. What did you say to him, anyway?”
Jack wasn’t paying Oliver any mind, though; his thoughts were only on his uncle.
“I’m fine,” Don managed to croak out. “I’m okay; it happens. Thanks, Oliver,” he said, handing the man back the inhaler.
“Shouldn’t you keep that in your pocket?” Jack suggested.
“No,” Don grinned, “I like to live dangerously. Now where were we? Oh I remember. Hey Oliver, Jack was just telling me about the zombies’ point … of … view. Care to listen in?”
Oliver glared at Jack, shook his grim face in disgust, and walked away. Jack began to feel uneasy.
“Ah … he probably wouldn’t understand, seeing how zombies killed his wife and children. You see, it’s going to be very hard to convince someone that a zombie had a good reason to do that.”
Jack felt himself shrinking underneath the twinkling gaze of his uncle. He was only reiterating what he had learned from the zombie psychology courses he took in college and from the training he had received from the WHS. He felt like a fool at the moment as he looked away from his uncle.
“Sorry, Uncle Don. I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you okay now?” he said, finding the courage to look back. He’s getting old, but I’ve got to be tougher than him. Shake it off. He’s weak.
“Of course, and so is Oliver. Now, honestly Jack, do you really think that zombies can actually do good things? I’m not talking about with our help. I’m talking about doing good things of their own free will?
“I suppose not. But, they’re making progress. Maybe. The XT Formula is allowing us to do some amazing things.”
Don huffed, coughed a little more, and took another drink of coffee.
“Well, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been hearing about things with the XT and —”
“You have? When?” Jack said, sounding disappointed.
“Easy now, I’ve only heard that you’ve been overseeing some breakthroughs. I don’t know what they are because I wanted to hear it from you first. That’s why we’re here. Now show me what you got.”
Jack was excited. It was something like the first time he took his favorite toy, Buzz Lightyear, to school for show and tell. His nimble fingers were quick at work when an image emerged. It was a view of a room full of zombies that panned back and forth in a quirky pattern. It seemed as if the person holding the camera wasn’t really paying
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