1000th post -- zombies and a spaceship (1,500 words loooong)

[Hex]

Sorry it's so long -- mmmm toast.

I'd be grateful for any comments on this. It's very new and there are several bits I'm not sure about. There's a lot of telling (far too much?) and I'm sure I've done awful things with commas (actually I know I have and I tried and tried to find alternatives but once or twice something.... just.... made... me)

Edit -- and there's romance too (sort of) -- so if romance makes you throw up, better get a bucket...



The End

Earth fell in forty days. Very biblical. No horsemen or earthquakes or raining fire, but a flood of the dead who wouldn't stay in the ground.

TV commentators blamed pollution, radiation, mutant bacteria in the poisoned soil, but I'd seen the Risen and they were more than a chemical accident. Evil had taken over the Earth; it was dark and twisted, and fond of the taste of flesh.

#

I passed the Howff every day on my way home. Among tangled grass and roses grown wild, the gravestones commemorated ship builders, threadmakers -- people with unimaginable lives, dead so long ago they didn't seem real.

That last evening I was tired and blank-eyed from staring at a screen all day. I adjusted the strap of my bag where the weight of the laptop pressed on my shoulder, and gazed through the railings.

Something moved by one of the graves, indistinct in the late evening sunshine. As I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, a Risen heaved his torso out of the grass. He was sleek and dark, pulling himself snake-like through the earth. His eyes -- black and glistening -- met mine, and he grinned. His teeth were too big for his mouth, curved and sharp and savage.

I dropped my bag and I ran.

I was lucky. I know now the Risen can outpace a sprinter. But the thing in the Howff was new, still half-mired in earth, and the cemetery was fenced round with high metal railings.

They slowed him enough for me to dash up the pavement and throw myself across the road, my heart pounding in my ears. As I turned the corner I heard screams behind me, abruptly silenced.

I looked back from the top of the hill. Cars, caught at odd angles, blocked the road. In the distance a siren wailed. Nothing moved.

At home I locked the windows and doors, shaking so hard I could barely stand. Everything had changed. Forever. Government reassurances, military confidence -- it all meant nothing.

I called my family, my friends, clasping the phone with both hands so I didn't drop it. I was haunted by those liquid dark eyes, the horrible, sinuous grace; the vision drove me as I bullied and begged my family onto The Nirvana, one of the first wave of ships to leave. As it turned out, the only wave that left in time.

After transmissions from Earth stopped, we continued into unexplored space, looking for somewhere that might support life, somewhere we could start again.

#

We were five years on The Nirvana, breathing recycled air, cocooned in metal. People adjusted -- those who couldn't, died -- and life went back to normal. Or something close to it. I finished my training; Emily got married and had a baby. My nephew started growing up without seeing a bird or a flower that wasn't on a screen.

The banners had said: Space for People, not Possessions! so we'd taken almost nothing, and then everything possibly Risen-contaminated was dumped, meaning everyone, except the crew, had to wear cotton. In the fridge-like depths of The Nirvana, I was colder than I've ever been. The only way to cope was to wear everything all at once. After a couple of weeks the stench of unwashed people and their dirty clothes was terrible. The dry-shower crystals didn't help -- they smelled like carpet shampoo -- harsh and acid, aggressively floral.

The Nirvana hopped through space, stopping whenever scans indicated a potentially habitable planet. Chairman Howard's plan -- building on old exploration strategies -- was to seed us throughout the galaxy, a hundred at a time, reckoning some of us might survive that way, even if most of the planets we chose ultimately turned out inhospitable.

#

"Future Seedpods will be formed for maximum genetic diversity," Howard intoned, his voice echoing around the hangar. There was an awkward silence as we tried to work out what he'd said and whether it mattered.

"Although familial familiarity is uh... comforting, the genetic viability of our descendants is of greater significance."

Emily stared at him, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. I reached over and squeezed her hand. On the other side of the room, Alex Cane the pilot caught my eye. Straight-faced, he winked.

Warmth flooded the sides of my neck, my cheeks. I closed my eyes and my treacherous brain immediately presented me with an image of Alex piloting the ship: his long body reflecting the criss-cross lights of the control zone; his every move judged, precise, beautiful, and his face, normally so alive and wicked, turned meditative and solemn with concentration.

And, of course, that intriguingly tight suit.

My eyes snapped open.

Alex was still watching me. The corner of his mouth curved. Danger and excitement shot through me, burning like vodka.

I frowned at him and turned back to the podium. Howard talked for another hour. I didn't hear anything he said.

#

Fortunately, Simon had been listening.

Sitting beside Emily in the warm half dark of their tiny cabin, with Jamie asleep against his shoulder, he said,

"He meant he's going to start splitting up families when they're choosing people to land."

Emily grabbed my hand and squeezed. "But why?"

"Inbreeding," Simon said. "He doesn't want first cousins having babies in case they pass on dodgy genes."

"So we'll be split from Iz? But we're the only family she has left."

Emily's grip tightened on my hand. It hurt, but I appreciated the gesture. Mum and Dad, and all the cousins, had already been assigned to Seedpods, had already landed and been left behind.

"I'd think so," Simon said gently. "Howard won't want to risk Jamie having a baby with Isabel's daughter."

"But that's mad -- Iz doesn't have a daughter, she's not even--"

Emily swallowed the rest of the sentence, but I knew what she'd been going to say. Her own reaction to losing Earth had been to marry and have a baby. She couldn't understand how I was all of twenty-four and still single.

Simon rubbed his hand down Jamie's back and winked at me. "I wouldn't worry, Em. Alex Cane's been asking all sorts of questions."

I shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal bench.

"But that's even worse," Emily said. "You know what pilots are like. They're all obsessed with the ship. Why can't you meet someone nice, Iz? Someone normal?"

#

Dining Hour 1. I was eating my nutrients shaped as toast. Again.

I'd been 1656 days in space and I'd eaten this meal each morning. Why hadn't I learned to choose porridge? Not that it tasted different, but it was far easier to swallow. I moved the dry mass around my mouth, trying to bring myself to chew, and -- in case anyone was watching me -- stared in the direction of the latest desensitisation film. A group of Risen, huge on the wallscreen, tore themselves out of the earth. The scene switched and they were ripping into something meat-like, once-human. Blood spattered the camera lens, mercifully obscuring details.

Just as the film looped and the Risen started clawing through the earth again, Alex slid onto the bench opposite me. I swallowed the mouthful of not-toast and its jagged edges scraped my throat. What was he doing here? Pilots didn't eat in the dining hall. They had a private room where, the stories said, there was fruit from the hydro labs, and sometimes even eggs.

"I heard a rumour about you, Isabel Drake."

He knew my name. This wasn't just a weird coincidence then. I picked up my cup and drank. Too hot too hot. At least burning my tongue distracted me from Alex Cane and his wicked smile.

He turned his spoon over and looked at it. Desensitisation images flashed reflections across the metal. He shook his head.

"Doesn't seem to be true." His voice, deep and amused, invited me to laugh.

"What doesn't?" I asked, drawn in spite of myself.

"I heard you were an angel so you didn't have a reflection. The spoon disagrees."

I crushed down a treacherous smile. Bloody pilot -- so confident he didn't even bother with a decent come-on.

"That's the worst line I've ever heard. Does it usually work?"

He smiled back, calm and arrogant. "More than you'd think."

I turned the spoon; it reflected him in smears of copper and blue. "Look, you're upside down. What does that mean?"

His eyes were very bright. "Perhaps I'm not an angel either."

"Did anyone think you were?" I got to my feet. My hip nudged the table and tea slopped onto the dull metal. How did he make every movement look graceful? Why couldn't I even stand without bumping something?

I walked away, leaving tea seeping into the remains of my breakfast. When I looked back from the doorway, he was watching me. Above him on the wall the Risen lunged again and again, casting red light across his face.

 

[ctg]

It moves so fast from one place to another that I felt getting a bit lost in between. What story you're trying to tell? An escape from earth, a search of new home planet, romance between the protagonist and the pilot, what?

I'm saying these because the story is going in some many directions at once, and there's hardly a time for the reader to savour the details and really get the idea of where you're heading with this. The thing I felt with this is that you can use the zombies or in this case ghouls (ones coming out from the grave) as a backstory, while you progress through your romantic notes in the ship's cafeteria. I also would like to know more about the ships and why they're called the nirvana, and the reason of why they're able to scan for habitable planets, when the humankind couldn't even escape to orbit or use moon or mars or the asteroid belt to expand their perimeter.

So many holes, so little time, but you know me, I can be completely wrong.

 

[Glitch]

Congrats on 1000 posts.

I found it interesting. Starting off serious, then adding a bit of humour. Was that the intention?

"But that's even worse," Emily said. "You know what pilots are like. They're all obsessed with the ship. Why can't you meet someone nice, Iz? Someone normal?" - made me chuckle.

I'm no good with commas either, so I won't go there.

You didn't confirm the main character until about half way through. I had first assumed a male POV. The line about Alex made me waver on that, but as the other character (Emily) was female I still wasn't sure. "Isabel's daughter" - I assumed this was referencing the POV character and thus changed my mental image accordingly.

There were a few too many assumptions I had to make as a reader for the piece to flow smoothly from the start. I was a little confused by Howff and Risen, but as the story progressed I assumed Howff was a place and Risen referred to your zombies.

Now for some reason I'm feeling like a bit peckish, fancy some toast!

 

[Jo Zebedee]

I like it and am impressed at how many more details have gone in between earlier drafts and this - like the unwashed clothes yeurgh.
I think you have a lot of room to put things in once you decide on the structure that best suits it. And I like the romance - its bound to happen.
I agree with ctg there's loads of room here to expand the story, play with flashbacks and what notzm good stuff

 

[Warren_Paul]

Grammar wise nothing stood out and glared at me, so that's good. Now for the story, which I like. I can see why you were talking about flashbacks, a lot is skipped, and that's an understatement.

unless you plan to bring the zombies back, I feel there needs to be a bit more with them maybe, that beginning bit was a little too rushed I think. And as has already been mentioned, I think we should know a bit more about the PoV character back then, as we don't really get to know Isabel much until they are being split into the 'seedpods'.

I did like where the story was going, just took a while to figure out it was more about the relationships on the ship - or at least one in particular - than the zombies or relocating to another planet.

 

[Hex]

Mmm. Thanks all. Now it's up, it seems blindingly obvious that the bit on earth could be a flashback or ought to be longer.

Once upon a time (ie: last summer), when this was (half) a short story ALL of this was an infodump in one (fairly short) paragraph or assumed in the subsequent relationships.

I should've made sure the viewpoint character was introduced right at the start. That seems to be a regular oversight for me!

@ctg -- I'm trying to tell all those stories, just maybe a bit too squished together.

@ Glitch -- yes -- it's supposed to be a mix of seriousness and humour -- one of the things I wasn't sure about (but I like -- hard to tell a zombies in space story without some sort of humour)

@WP -- the Risen come back, but mainly as public information films. So the stuff on earth is returned to, just not in real time... Clearly the start needs to be longer or shorter. Hmm

 

[David Evil Overlord]

Just my impressions and opinions. Please take with mandatory grain of salt.

I do like the story. It does seem a little rushed at the start, and throwing away perfectly good zombies after a brief cameo appearance does seem quite wasteful. I think you should do more with the zombie apocalypse. There just ain't enough zombies!

I really expect the Risen to appear later in the story. And not just on film. You even leave the possibility open by dumping anything that might be Risen-contaminated...but did they get all of it?

I admit I stumbled at the word "Howff", until the next sentence mentioned it was full of gravestones. So, obviously a cemetery.

I don't see a ship-builder having an unimaginable life, not when the POV character is about to embark upon a long journey in a ship. A different kind of ship, a different kind of journey. Still, it just didn't seem to fit -- unless it was some subtle humour you were aiming for? Otherwise I would suggest you lose the ship-builder by turning him into a corset-maker or a slave-trader.

Not sure how many people are actually needed to form a viable colony. I did see something about it, possibly on the forum for Analog SF magazine (said forum has not yet risen from the grave, so I can't check). I don't think one hundred people is enough, though. IIRC, it was something like 1,000 - 5,000. Don't quote me on that, though.

I like the chemistry developing between Isabel and Alex. He comes across as a little too self-confident, a man who never had a woman resist his charms before. This makes Isabel a challenge, but will he see her as more than that?

Finally, I want to know what happens next. And that, I think, is the best thing a reader can say about what you have written.

 

[Hex]

Hmm. 'Howff' not good (sorry, springs, should've changed it!) It's a cemetery in Dundee... and I had it in mind when I wrote the walking-home-from-work bit. I will maybe not name it. Good point about the ship-builder -- I sort of visualised ships with bendy bits of wood and ship building isn't done much in Scotland any more -- but it's a throwaway remark.

More zombies, you say? I think I can manage that

ps: issue of viable colony sizes does come back. Promise.

 

[The Judge]

Congratulations on the 1,000th!

I've read this very quickly but nothing immediately hit me grammar-wise. However, I agree that there's too much happening in too short a time and you're trying to tell too many stories, for my taste at any rate. Why do you need the scene about the Howff at all? If it's a vital plot point (and not just because this is what leads her onto the ship since that could have arisen in dozens of other ways) obviously keep it, but I think you need to integrate it better. Otherwise it could go, leaving you to focus on what is important, presumably the (soon-to-be-abusive ) relationship between our heroine and the dangerous vodka-like man.

Er... I know zombies and reality don't go hand-in-hand, but nothing about the situation seemed realistic. People are rising from the dead all over earth and she walks straight past a cemetary? No one thinks to get the bulldozers in and burn every last corpse? Instead, within 40 days they have constructed a fleet of ships sufficient to lift thousands of people into space to start new colonies? (If there was mention of any colonisation project having been started already, as opposed to exploration, I missed it.) We have an apparently unremarkable woman who can bully and beg her way onto one of these few ships for herself and her apparently unremarkable family -- you don't say how old her parents are, but why would the authorities clutter up what is in effect a giant life boat with her mother, a woman who must be approaching 40 and therefore towards the end of her reproductive life, unless she has other skills which are vital for a colony?

I know you don't world-build unless it's necessary, and this is obviously meant to be a fun piece, but it only needs a couple of lines to make it hang together a little more in terms of reality.

 

[Hex]

Thank you!

Not that I like to admit it, but I have done more world-building (or, well, thinking about the background) than appears here. I didn't want to weigh the front end of the story down with explanatory things -- but I think I need a bit more. Or less. But I'm leaning towards more. Hmm.

 

[HareBrain]

Ah, I come back home ready to post my thoughts and find the Judge has somehow stolen most of them.

With me, too, believability was a big problem here, and that stopped me engaging with the story at all, which I think is a first for one of yours. Almost all TJ's points struck me, as well as the fact that the commentators' "explanations" were surely so nonsensical that they would never have been suggested, and that the army would at very least have surrounded every cemetary with heavy weapons and/or concreted them all over and/or exhumed and completely destroyed every corpse (of which there would surely be very few with enough material substance left on their bones to create a Risen -- aren't most people cremated these days?) But then I've never liked zombie stories, so I'm not the target readership here. The style is, as usual, good.

I wondered if these comments were worth posting (since I really don't like zombie stories) but you might find them mildly helpful as suggestions of things to think about. Congrats on the thousand posts anyway!

 

[Hex]

Mmm. I want to say: bear with me. It's all going somewhere, I promise. But I mustn't since it has to work on its own terms.

I will attempt more detail. Or possibly less. Thank you for the thoughts

 

[The Judge]

I'm not sure if I'm reading too much into your comments, Hex, but if for instance this is all a blind -- eg the zombies aren't real but are a govt conspiracy to scare people into leaving Earth because of overpopulation -- then you have to hint at something being wrong in the early stages. You know the gun over the mantlepiece thing, where it has to be fired in the third act? Well, the corollary of that is the gun that's fired in the third act has to be shown over the mantlepiece in the first. The same would hold good if this is all some kind of play-acting, or all a dream -- you must give clues to the denouement otherwise the readers will feel cheated.

If on the other hand there are good and plain reasons for the points HB and I have raised, eg the zombies don't need physical remains, they breed out of the soil itself, or her mother is someone important, or has important skills, then a line mentioning that in the opening is all that's needed. You certainly don't want to dump masses of info, but I think you have to give enough to answer questions which will be raised.

 

[Hex]

Thanks

It's not a blind. I'm (sadly) not that clever.

There are reasons for what happens, although they may not be very good ones. Except for the zombie things making do with skeletal remains, which hadn't really occurred to me and I'd sort of left to pollution and soil and -- it's-really-magic-anyway in a lazy sort of way.

I'll see if I can start things on the ship and then perhaps I can fudge the zombie-generation question a little further.

 

[David Evil Overlord]

IIRC, one of Larry Niven's short stories had zombies. Corpses were infected by some sort of alien fungus or mould or something, which made use of the freshly-dead animal to move around and spread the spores. If that meant biting and infecting the living, that was good, too. I think the fungus could only keep the risen corpse moving for one night, though.

There is also supposed to be some sort of fungus here on earth that does something similar to ants.

http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=fungus-makes-zombie-ants

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/...fungus-new-species-fungi-bugs-science-brazil/

Mutate that so it affects humans, and you might just have your Risen.

P.S. I don't think you can generate zombies with fudge.

 

[David Evil Overlord]

Er... I know zombies and reality don't go hand-in-hand, but nothing about the situation seemed realistic. People are rising from the dead all over earth and she walks straight past a cemetary? No one thinks to get the bulldozers in and burn every last corpse?

I think that, by the time the police and the army realise these people reporting outbreaks of zombies are not just drunk, drugged, deluded or pranksters, the zombies will all be out of the cemeteries, meeting people, and eating people. Too late then to call in the bulldozers.

And people would still walk past cemeteries, at least until they saw the zombies were really real. And then, for many, it would be too late.

I can also see it would be easier to build some sort of zombie-proof building than a spaceship. Something with high, stone walls. Something with a bridge you could draw up, so zombies couldn't just walk in and make themselves at home. Something like a castle. Any ideas?

But, if the spaceships were already built before the zombie outbreak, then that's a completely different kettle of animated decaying meat. Two different survival strategies at once are better than putting all your eggs in one basket.

 

[Hex]

I was thinking that this is pretty early on in the infestation and people don't know what's going on yet -- that no one who actually reports a zombie attack is going to be believed at first -- because how stupid is that? A few months ago, someone asked Dundee city council what their response would be in case of a zombie attack and they replied patiently and humorously but obviously they didn't take it seriously.

I'd thought the spaceships might be tourist ships and the owners had jumped on the unsettling rumours of something amiss in central asia, and offered a sort of gimmicky 'holiday from risk!' so people would orbit the earth, where they were safe, and then -- while in orbit -- the severity of what was happening on Earth would start to become more obvious.

Anyway, I am considering....

 

[The Judge]

I understood

Government reassurances, military confidence -- it all meant nothing.

to mean that the govt had been reassuring them there was nothing to fear -- which would only happen if the govt knew there was a problem. (Govt denials always come first even if a problem is known about...) And if the govt knew that, then they would already have started some kind of cemetary-isolation exercise if only by way of public reassurance.

But again, all it needs is a sentence or two to make it clear, eg something like "The first attacks had been reported on the news only the night before. I'd thought they were a hoax."

 

[Hex]

Yes, I can see how it would be understood to say that (since, in fact, that's what it says...)

I've written eight new starts -- a couple with more detail on earth, a couple in the queue to the spaceship, and a couple on the ship. Nothing has completely worked yet. I'm having issues with overarching logic too, so it's all fun.

I may need to go back to the idea of generating zombies from fudge.

 

[Glitch]

I've written eight new starts

I find a good exercise when I'm having a trouble with the start is to go back before the event. Try writing Isabel's life a day or so before the zombies show up. The true beginning often presents itself.