It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that, if this was the end?
Aaron hunched down in front of Ken.
“You wonder why we have stories and legends about zombies in the first place?”
Ken shook his head. Again, the words didn’t seem to penetrate. He had been choked, burnt, concussed, his back knocked partially out of alignment, two of his fingers cut off. It all threw up a wall that shielded him from comprehension. He had to focus on the words, had to expend more energy than usual on what Aaron had said.
“Because people are weird,” he finally said. “Because Hollywood people and novelists are messed up in the head.” He shrugged. “I dunno.” He aimed a glare at Aaron. “Where’s my family?”
Aaron ignored his question. “Yeah, I thought that, too. Enjoyed a lot of good zombie movies in my day. Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later. Hell, I even liked that Warm Bodies flick. Cried a bit when the dead guy got the girl.” He leaned in a bit. “You notice how half of them have live zombies, half of them have undead ones? Ones that rise from the grave?”
“So?”
“So I don’t think the people who made up all those ideas were really making them up at all.”
In spite of himself, in spite of his need to know what was happening to his family, Ken finally asked the question he knew Aaron was hoping for. “What do you mean?”
“I think those ideas – the ideas of live zombies and dead ones – were… well, put there, for lack of a better word.”
3
That cut through the blur, the fog that had become a constant companion in Ken’s mind.
“Put there?” he said. “What the hell does that mean?”
Again Aaron passed his unmarred hand over his forehead. Again the flashlight scarred the darkness of the freight car.
“I think this is an invasion,” he said. “I’ve seen ‘em before. Been a part of ‘em before.”
Ken shook his head. “What does an invasion have to do with –”
“The most successful invasions start in one of two ways,” Aaron continued, talking over Ken as though he had never spoken. “Either the invading force infiltrates the enemy, taking them over from within, or they attack with overwhelming force and crush them as fast as possible.”
“Shock and awe,” murmured Ken.
“Something like that,” said Aaron. “So what I think is that these zombies, they aren’t the first wave. The first wave happened decades, maybe centuries ago. Ideas that came into our minds, became a part of our subconscious, a part of our stories. The dead rising up, the living becoming hyper-fast monsters who live only to kill.”
Ken shook his head. “You’re saying the zombie stories were some kind of propaganda? Some attempt to win us over to the idea of the walking dead?” He snorted.
Aaron shook his own head. “No, Ken. You ain’t understanding me. I think those ideas came into our heads because these things – the things that caused the zombies – tried to change us before. Maybe they were too weak, or maybe we were too strong. But either way, they couldn’t change us. They could only give us glimpses. Shadows, dreams. Ideas that some of us took and wrote stories about, told legends about. They became part of our stories, and we never realized….”
Ken stared at the cowboy, the once-friend, the once-savior who had become a traitor and kidnapper. “We never realized…?”
“Never realized that the stories weren’t stories. They were intercepted communications. They were the enemy’s first attempt to take us over. To take us, to change us. To kill us and take our place.”
4
Aaron must have seen the disbelief on Ken’s face. Ken didn’t want to give away what was going on inside; was actively trying to mask his feelings. But what Aaron was saying was so incredible, so ridiculous –
(so right, don’t forget that, you know he’s telling the truth)
– that it was impossible for him to keep his feelings locked inside.
The zombies had come to them before?
The movies, the books, the stories were all evidence of previous… what… invasion attempts? Recon missions?
It was all too crazy.
Aaron touched Ken’s shoulder. “I know, it’s nuts. But it fits. The way it all happened at once. The whole world went bonkers in ten minutes, Ken. There was no outbreak, no gradual infection. Just half the world turned, and then turned on the other half in the space of ten minutes.”
Ken nodded in spite of himself. Thinking of the way the things had turned their heads up, mouths open, panting in time. Like they had been on some sort of cosmic remote control. Like they were….
Downloading.
That was it. Like they were receiving information. Instructions, or alterations.