Occupation: A Zombie Apocalypse Theory-Part 3
Zombies invade New Orleans - #areyouinfected
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When the ‘apocalypse’ as it was called occurred, very few saw it coming, and the news reports as to why it occurred in the first place were murky at best. Some say it started in Miami. Some say New York or London, but no one knew for sure. What was paramount was the fact that the world at large was now caught in the grip of something terrible. Something devastating. Something that threatened to change the course of human history as we knew it was now upon us. Human beings were suddenly…changing, turning into mindless scavengers of flesh and blood and killing everything in sight. The media and pop culture had a name for the epidemic sweeping the planet, although few could bring themselves to think that such things could exist beyond the realm of film and television…zombies.
Eventually, word spread of mass riots taking place throughout the world. Bristol, Tottenham, and London were plagued with civil unrest and stories soon followed of a deadly virus spreading. Martial law had been declared. BBC news reports were shoddy and inconclusive at best in those days and the U.S. media fared only marginally better. Soon, rumors began to spread out of Miami of a brutal attack on a homeless man brought on by a drug commonly called ‘bath salts’. Allegedly once the drug entered a person’s system, it infected the internal organs in such a way that the victim would suffer painful convulsions. Coupled with extremely high blood pressure, the victim would become overwrought with extreme rage and inhuman strength. It didn’t take long for the word ‘zombie’ to be uttered in mainstream media after gruesome photos surfaced of the homeless man’s face completely chewed off.
In the months that followed, more mysterious attacks occurred. Fort Lauderdale. Port St. Lucie followed by Jacksonville, parts of Atlanta, and Alabama. Whatever it was that caused this…thing, it was spreading throughout the country fast. As the first rumors spread throughout the Alabama/Mississippi borders, stories began to pop up throughout New Orleans of a possible quarantine. Certain areas of the city designated as high crime zones were cordoned off, for what reason we were not made aware.
What is known was that as a seemingly civilized society, I now witnessed the systematic slaughter and destruction of innocent men, women, and children. Lives were irrevocably ripped apart under the guise of National Security while the city of New Orleans carried on as if the madness and destruction did not exist. Beyond the bright lights and decadence of the Quarter, far beyond the idyllic majesty of St. Charles Avenue, a profound and horrific stench was gripping the land. And now on the heels of both Mardi Gras and the Super Bowl, the powers behind the throne of government continued to lull its citizens to sleep to preserve its tourist-based economy. What caused this madness? What caused this destruction? Was it this ‘bath salt’ excuse that we were being fed, or something far more sinister? A new wave of mental illness? Something in the water? Chemtrails? Lafayette once said, “A hidden hand is guiding the populace.” On this, I agree. On this, I do agree…
***
“Man, will you please turn that thing off and give it a rest for once?” Nicodemus demanded.
Holding the recorder with a slight reluctance, Barabbas finally relented. Documenting their exploits along with the recent developments gave him a slight sense of purpose. Hopefully, at some point in the future, someone would be able to make sense of all this…just in case. The sweaty glass of Don Julio Blanco cheered him up a bit as he took a sip. It was quite refreshing, but not enough to get his mind off what had occurred earlier.
Juan’s Flying Burrito was a home away from home for Barabbas, and also home to some of the sexiest waitresses Magazine St. had to offer. Forget supermodels, actresses, and rock stars. There was something about an old-school Irish Channel woman that drove Southern men naturally accustomed to appreciating such works of art crazy. Forget tanning salons, hair extensions, and breast implants. Real women with real curves, tattoos, and personalities were where it was. Yes, there was nothing like a New Orleans woman. Nothing at all…not for anything in the civilized world. Nicodemus could barely concentrate on his Corona with his attention distracted by the miles of legs prancing under tight skirts and aprons that moved about to and fro.
“How long we’ve been doing this Nic?” Barabbas asked. “Six months?”
“Six months to be exact,” Nicodemus replied. “What you driving at?”
“When was the last time you saw one of those things move like that?” Barabbas asked. “Are you buying this bath salt nonsense?”
“Hey man, it’s Florida,” Nicodemus argued. “Between all the coke freaks and meth addicts, there’s no telling what other kind of poisons they’ve got down there. Anything is possible. I tell you one thing, I’m damn sure in no hurry to go back down there and find out.”
Nicodemus had spent some time down in South Florida a few years back and hated every minute of it. He said he wouldn’t go back even if Jesus Christ was down there signing autographs. With all the stories about Florida in general and now this, Barabbas was inclined to agree.
“What I do know is we need to be more prepared than usual if we’re going to clear more churches and storefronts,” Barabbas said. “No more going out without shotguns, especially after today.”
“Jesus Christ B, how many times am I gonna have to apologize for this?” Nicodemus asked. “I’m bending over backward here. I told you Gabriel will hook us up, no problem.”
Gabriel was a family friend who had looked out for Barabbas and Nicodemus since their junior high school years. An admirable man, one of those few old-school types left in the neighborhood who was also a remarkable musician. From his humble beginnings as a trumpet player in the historic Treme area, Gabriel rose to national fame and prominence. Years later, a tragic twist of fate left him a bitter and lonely shell of his former self, forever living in the past and nearly senile. When the apocalypse hit, Gabriel took to stockpiling arms and personally looking out for Barabbas and Nicodemus as if they were his sons. With all the rampant violence in the city, he was led to believe that the weapons were for protection. For years before the slaughter, New Orleans had an extremely violent history. Once dubbed ‘the murder capital’, the city was slowly eating itself away from the inside. With its police department and many figures in political circles corrupt, the citizens of the city were often forced to defend themselves by any means necessary. Considering the events of the past few months, the ruse worked on Gabriel. Pretty long in the tooth in his golden years, the old man rarely suspected a thing.
Mapping out areas of the city where the most zombie activity occurred, the duo along with many others in the city took it upon themselves to stake out and destroy any zombies lurking about. Abandoned churches, stripped-down storefronts, and other closed-down grocery stores were usually prime targets where zombies could be found in droves. There was one glaring exception though. No one, no matter who they were, was ever allowed in the designated ‘high crime zones’ which were the former neighborhoods known as the Calliope, St. Bernard, Melpomine, St. Thomas, and Magnolia Housing Projects. These housing developments, the Magnolia especially, were some of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city’s history. Now they were strictly quarantined areas. No one got the full story, but everyone had his or her suspicions. There was only a matter of time before the truth would come out. As for the kills, some teams went out, destroyed a few ‘nests’ as they were called before nightfall, and would later celebrate a ‘good days’ kill’ at a local club or strip bar. It was a little too surreal for Barabbas’ taste. Here they were, makeshift vigilantes, knocking off former family members, friends, and the like for sport and having beers and laughs later. Some teams even compared scores of how many kills they made, if one could consider such a thing a sport. The ultimate goal of this systematic purging of sorts was to never allow the infected entities to spill out into the other parts of the city. It was quite scary actually. Years ago, the citizens of New Orleans never dreamed that a major storm would ever break its levees and change the course of its history. Yet here we were years later, and it seemed as though a storm of a more tragic nature was now upon us. Not sufficient with destroying mere homes and other buildings, this storm seemed intent on destroying our very souls. Ernest Hemingway once said, “The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for.” In these dark days that were now upon us, it certainly did not seem so. With the very nature of humanity itself degenerating to such a disastrous state, at times it was uncertain as to who the real threat was, them or us.
Nicodemus’ constant ramblings fell on deaf ears as Barabbas’ attention was distracted by news reports blaring from the television screen. In the past few months, controversy arose over a supposed ‘miracle drug’ known as Viractyn. With all the political debates heating over healthcare in America, thousands were protesting in the streets of Detroit, Chicago, and New York over this very issue. Viractyn was notoriously expensive; a drug that many Americans could not afford and was not covered by most insurance policies. Only the wealthy could afford it, and this sparked increased demonstrations throughout the country over the plight of ‘the 99%’ as it were.
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” Nicodemus demanded. “Still thinking about earlier? Or is Caroline back on the brain again?”
Caroline. The name alone snapped Barabbas out of his dogmatic musings with a vigor that straightened him in his seat. Caroline Devereaux, the oldest child of the Devereaux clan had been a close friend of Barabbas’ since high school. Now a brilliant doctor, the flame that existed between the two of them could never be fully extinguished. When word spread several years ago of the two of them dating, Joseph Devereaux made it his mission in life to put a stop to the union real quick. Needless to say, the Devereaux family was fiercely conservative and didn’t take too kindly to the idea of their daughter consorting with the likes of Barabbas. Nevertheless, the romance persisted, with the two of them falling madly in love. Realizing that such a union would come to an end eventually, both decided to make the most of it at all costs. The mere mention of her name was enough to paint a radiant smile across Barabbas’ face as Nicodemus went on and on about her…and at that moment, in she walked. Like a brilliant ray of sunshine piercing the darkest of storm clouds, she lit up the room as she made a beeline for their table. Her beautiful brown eyes shielded behind a pair of glasses and that hourglass figure hidden behind a set of meager scrubs couldn’t stop Barabbas from fantasizing about what it always felt like to feel her skin against his as they devoured each other for hours throughout the night. Even to this day, he still remembered vividly that first kiss; that first taste of her divine flesh.
Of all the Mexican joints in all the cities in the entire world…she walks into mine.
“Well well, speak of the devil and she bares her bony ass,” Nicodemus quipped. Quickly met with a middle finger, Caroline made a beeline over to Barabbas, greeting him with a passionate kiss.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to make it,” he said.
“I needed to see you, both of you,” Caroline said urgently. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Okay, so talk,” Nicodemus replied.
The sudden hesitation in Caroline’s demeanor clued Barabbas into the fact that something wasn’t right. Caroline was usually the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. Something just wasn’t right.
“Not here,” she said. “Let’s go to Gabriel’s. There’s something you both need to hear.”
***
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