Dumb Shit: “Check, check…okay….sounds good. Are you ready Mr. Earhart?”
Earhart: “You wanna get yer fingers outta my face, son?”
Dumb Shit: “Well, uhm, y’see my hand’s modified, I, uh – god, your eye is really weird – I,mmm… modified it over the summer to be an all-purpose-media device; microphone and additional plugs in the fingers, audio and text editing in my palm, full control on my backhand. I installed stage lighting into my synth-retinas here in my right eye, next to the video recording apps in my temple It’s really – OW! GEEZ, you didn’t have to yank it off like that! It hurt!”
Earhart: “A lot, I hope. Now, you only need one microphone as far as I’m concerned, so I’ll just fix it up to my liking.
“There we go.
“Test, 1, 2…You hear me?”
Dumb Shit: “Loud and clear. The middle finger works quite well as a microphone. You don’t have to direct it straight at me all the time though.”
Earhart: “Oh, but I feel I do. I really, really do.
“Now, you wanted to know about the evolution of these new zombies, zat right?
Dumb Shit: “Yes, sir. Nowadays, they look almost like any human alive, some have passed right through crowds and cities and were not spotted until it was too late. They started attacking people for their flesh; when did it all change?”
Earhart: “It was probably about twelve years ago. I was with a group of the South Texas population making their way through Missouri. They had requested our expertise in fortifying their villages.
The zombie population was dwindling. They weren’t scarce by any means, I’m just sayin’ the length of time between encounters with zombie packs were getting longer. There was no doubt in my mind that the zombie population was definitely dwindling.
“You five-knuckle-shuffle with this all-purpose-media-device, son?
Dumb Shit: “What?”
Earhart: “Crank the shaft? Turbine the engine? Launch the red rocket?”
Dumb Shit: “……uuuuhhh”
Earhart: “Oh, Jesus; nevermind. Anyways, we’d been hearing tales from other wanderers that there had been a shift in the zombies’ genetics; that they were now reproducing on their own. I chalked it up to the typical grapevine syndrome – somebody says something and by the time it passes between a few dozen people and three states the story was nothing like the original – but that didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna keep an open mind. “
Dumb Shit: “Sir, I realize my microphone finger extends, but could you please not use the rest of my hand to scratch your groin?....awww, what is that? ”
Earhart: “Oh, shit; forgot it wasn’t mine. Now, we were about twenty miles from the Eldon camp when we ran into a small zombie tribe, about five of’em, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t see it for my own eyes.
“Y’see, four of’em came at us. Two of’em were the old, slow kind. One of’em was a speedster, but still stupid; no tactics. The fourth was another slow one, but this one tried circling around us for a better vantage point. Of course none of’em were a challenge, we picked’em off quickly, cleanly.
“The fifth one….fifth one was a woman. She was missing half a face, missing an arm, and one of her legs just below the knee. She’s wriggling and rolling around on the ground. None of us can figure out what’s wrong with her. She finally stops, she’s on her back. He stomach begins expanding until it tears wide open, and out comes this tiny, fully functioning - - I don’t even wanna call it a baby, but it was a baby zombie, not a zombie baby – that’s something different. This was a baby zombie.
Dumb Shit: “Your math doesn't add up, but what do you mean by fully functioning?”
Earhart: “This thing WAS the fifth! Dumb Shit! Walking; not perfectly, but it had enough sense and intelligence for muscle control. While it’s stumbling about we’re all in shock not noticing the mother trying to shove her guts back into her stomach. She does so, gets up off the ground and charges right at us. Nearly bit Bilo, but Sara was able to put a shotgun shell in the thing’s skull before then.
“Once momma was down, we set out to catch the kid, wound up snagging him with our trap-nets. Looked ungodly, it did. Gray mushy skin felt like thick jelly; already had teeth too.
“Wipe that I-just-saw-and-elephant-dick-look off yer face son; it’s only teeth on a newborn zombie. Natural selection, whaddya expect?
“Don’t you be giving me that look yer givin’ me now, I’ll yank that retinal-recorder outta yer socket and globally broadcast the biggest ass-whoppin yer sad, techno-pussy generation’s ever seen.
“That was my first encounter. Had many more through the years, but seeing as how zombies had become a mainstay in the natural order of things, they began to evolve. It wasn’t just women birthing these things, men were too. “
Dum Shit: “Zombie men and zombie women, correct?”
Earhart: “………..
“You sure you came outta yer mother’s vagina, boy? You sure she didn’t shit you out, cause only a dumb-shit would ask that question. Or maybe, just maybe she shit you out of her vagina. You were meant to be a turd but her body got mixed up and sent you through meiosis and thus was born the first ever turd baby named Dumb Shit.
“Yes. Zombie men and zombie women, and the more intact the surrogate zombie was the better condition the baby came out. And, I mean they were new and improved. They grew quickly, they felt no pain, they didn’t have to breathe; they were now thinking, flesh-eating machines.
“Society was still able to make progress, we have towns back, regular communities, businesses going again, but with the zombie evolution – it’s like living with fear of communist spies again, only instead of giving secrets to the Kremlin, these invaders will eat your face.
“That’s all I got for you fer today. Here’s yer hand back. It thinks yer number one, heh heh.”
Dumb Shit: “Well, thank you sir….ow….uh, your insight is very valuable. Again, thank you…uh…this is going to make for a great article in the science magazine. Your contributions certainly be remembered and honored in the future.
Earhart: “I don’t give a fuck. You drink beer, Dumb Shit?”
Dumb Shit: “Well, no, yuh see the alcohol isn’t good for my body modifications and….”
END SIGNAL