Bookshelf Battle

In the election of 2016, the unthinkable happened. Republican billionaire Vincenzo “Vinny” Stugotz of New York made an alliance with Democratic Senator Mildred Pierce, a California lawyer prone to speaking in legalese, to form the first dual party ticket in modern history.

Their deal? They agreed to change positions every four years. Stugotz took the first go around as President with Mildred as VP. In 2020, they were to switch and let Mildred take the helm while Stugotz played second fiddle. Ultimately, they figured this would lead to them both having their hooks sunk into the presidency until 2032.

With nice sounding political promises to work together and heal a divided nation, the Stugotz/Pierce ticket won by a landslide against Democratic and Republican politicians who cried that it was outright blasphemy for members of opposing parties to do anything other than go on live TV and accuse each other of breathing fire, kicking babies and being the second comings of Hitler, all while average Americans sucked it up and accepted no one was ever going to solve any of their problems.

For a month, it seemed like America had turned a corner and that a brighter, more positive future was on the horizon.

But soon, it became crystal clear that Stugotz and Pierce were not going to be able to agree on anything.

It was certainly clear to General Merrick as he sat in the White House Situation Room, as he and other high ranking military men and security advisors sat back and waited for Stugotz and Pierce to resolve their latest bru ha ha.

“So we’re talking zombies, is that it?” Stugotz asked as he ran a comb through his long, luxurious, gravity defying, jet black pompadour. “Because let me tell you, no one would be better at defeating zombies than me, OK? We’re going to go after those zombies big time, you hear me? Big time. They won’t know what hit them. If you’re dead, then under a Stugotz administration, you’ve got to stay dead. No ifs ands or butts, not even some candy and coconuts, capiche?”

Mildred chimed in. “No Vinny, you right-wing fascist…”

“Don’t you ‘right-wing fascist’ me, you feminazi liberal commie,” Stugotz replied. “Go shave your armpits.”

“Look,” Mildred said. “All I’m trying to say is that before we go all crazy and blow up all the zombies, maybe we should just try to see things from the zombies’ point of view. Maybe the zombies aren’t so bad once you get to know them.”

“They’re criminals,” Stugotz said as he pounded his fist on the conference table. “Criminal zombies who won’t stop until all of our brains are devoured.”

“That’s a rather broad brush, isn’t it?” Mildred asked. “Surely there are some zombies who just end up getting confused. I would imagine there are many undead Americans who just want to keep bumping into walls until they figure out how to walk around them that don’t pose a threat to anyone.”

“Keep living in your fantasy world, pinko,” Stugotz said.

“Fine,” Mildred said. “And you can keep being a hateful, closed minded, rabid zombaphobe.”

Sitting next to Merrick was National Security Agency analyst Allan Carver.

“Are they always like this?” Merrick whispered.

“Worse,” Carver whispered back. “This is one of their good days.”

Merrick cleared his throat. “Mister President, Madame Vice-President, if I may…”

“Right,” Stugotz said. “The floor is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merrick said “I’d first like to remind everyone that the debate over what to do with the quote unquote ‘zombies’ is premature due to the fact that there are no reports at this time of zombies being spotted in public.”

“Chop their ugly zombie heads off if you do see any,” Stugotz said.

“No,” Mildred said. “Herd the zombies into a nice holding area and then sign them up for free brain deliveries courtesy of the U.S. government.”

“Oh holy shit, Milly,” Stugotz said. “And where are you going to get the brains?”

“I’m sure if we think about it there are vast brain resources available,” Mildred said. “Goat brains. Sheep brains. Cow brains. Perhaps we can convince people to donate their brains to the hungry zombie cause when they die.”

“Yeah,” Stugotz scoffed. “Like that isn’t going to cost the taxpayer a pretty penny. Build a wall, make the zombies pay for it and bada bing, bada boom, problem solved.”

Merrick cleared his throat to remind his bosses that he was still there. “As I was saying, there are no reports of actual zombies roaming the streets, so I believe it would be prudent to focus on the information we have at this time.”

The general pointed a remote control at the humongous monitor that lined the wall and pushed a button. A paused video featuring the Heretic appeared.

“As we’re all aware,” Merrick said. “The Heretic released a video to the press demanding that the public implore world leaders to give in to the Day Zero cult’s demands.”

“Screw the Heretic,” Stugotz said. “Find him, lock him up, and attach a car battery to his nut sack for the rest of his life.”

Mildred clutched her pearls. “Let’s give him a break. He probably had a rough childhood.”

“Here now is the video that the Heretic sent to the leaders of every nation in the world,” Merrick said as he pushed play.

“Leaders of the world,” the Heretic said. “Your policies driven the masses to lives of crime, fighting over scraps while you all live high off the hog. You support factories that poison our water and pollute our air, all the while encouraging non-stop, reckless consumerism amongst the masses. Instead of talking your problems out, you build bombs capable of leveling entire cities to threaten one another with. Man was not supposed to live this way.”

The screen switched to footage of a cage, where a young, frightened man grabbed the bars and cried for help.

“Please!” the hostage said. “I don’t know who these people are! They just kidnapped me and dragged me here and…oh…oh God.”

A green gas filled the room. The man grabbed his throat and choked, hacked, and wheezed until he finally fell down.

“Sweet merciful crap,” Stugotz said as he watched.

Seconds later, the young man slowly stood up. His eyes were blank. He moved like a mindless automaton.

“As you can see,” the Heretic said in a voiceover, “I am, thanks to incompetent security at one of America’s many black sites, now in possession of the X48 virus, which means I now have the power to fill the world with as many zombies as I please. One whiff and a subject is zombified. Once infected, zombies are able to infect others by biting them so this is all about to get very interesting, isn’t it?”

The zombified man grabbed the bars and furiously bashed his head against them as he growled and snarled.

“Of course,” the Heretic said as his shadow returned to the screen. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Resign from office. Order your armies to stand down. Scuttle your weapons of mass destruction. Shutter all businesses and demolish all structures so that the trees and plants can heal the badly damaged ozone layer and humans are left to revert to the innocent creatures they were always intended to be. For at the end of the day, we all know the chief architects of division amongst the people are you, the leaders of the world who control their citizens as if they are puppets. This will be your only warning. Comply within twenty-four hours or enjoy the zombies.”

Merrick shut off the video.

“Holy shit,” a panicked Mildred said. “Give him whatever he wants!”

“What?” Stugotz said as he made the universally recognized ‘I’m jerking off because what you’re saying is boring me’ gesture. “General, find this guy and shoot him in the face with a nuclear warhead. Nuke him. Nuke his whole family. Nuke all his brothers and sisters and cousins. Nuke his third grade teacher. Nuke his Goddamn cat, dog, hamster, and goldfish. Nuke everyone who has ever spoken a single word to this asshole.”

“I’ve got Phalanx Company working on it as we speak,” Merrick said. “They are, without a doubt, the best of the best.”

“General,” Mildred said. “Is what he said, true? Are we responsible for making this virus?”

Merrick sighed. “I’m afraid so, Ma’am.”

The general punched a button on his remote and a virtual image of a perfectly chiseled muscle man appeared on screen.

“Ten years ago,” Merrick said. “Certain forces in our government saw the writing was on the wall, that Americans were tired of constant wars, and people weren’t as accepting of the idea of a military draft as they used to be. Thus, a desire to create a new army of indestructible, super soldiers was born.”

Merrick hit a button and an image of Professor Goldthwaite popped up. “Ten years ago, Professor Abner Goldthwaite, once a renowned lecturer in the field of neuroscience, became a laughingstock when he published a paper claiming that through a combination of the right chemicals, proteins, bacteria and assorted enzymes, he had created an indestructible rat.”

“I remember that guy on TV,” Mildred said.

“Yes,” Merrick said. “He followed up his paper with videos in which he set the rat on fire, pounded it with a hammer, and even ran over it with his car and yet in each instance, the rat kept on scurrying along. Critics just assumed Abner had used special effects to make the rat look like he wasn’t hurt and thus, Abner became a pariah amongst his fellow scientists, mocked for being a shameless attention seeker.”

“Ahh,” Stugotz said. “So let me guess. You idiots hired him.”

“His rat was the real deal,” Merrick said. “And we hoped Goldthwaite’s research would lead to civilian applications. After all, super soldiers would be great, but super people would be even better. End the ability to cause physical harm to someone and you’ve ended all crime and all wars. Allow humans to live forever and they end up with unlimited time to seek out their hopes and dreams.”

“Dreams, schmeams,” Stugotz said. “It all got cocked up, didn’t it?”

Merrick pushed a button and twenty minutes’ worth of footage of Abner gassing human test subjects only for them to become hideous zombies played.

“Since 2007, Goldthwaite has made forty-eight separate attempts to construct a chemical agent that could turn humans indestructible,” Merrick said. “Alas, what worked in a rat only turns humans into mindless brain chomping bastards.”

“Well good luck with the court martial, dip stick,” Stugotz said as he popped a mint into his mouth.

“Me?” Merrick said. “I was ordered to start this program by one president and instructed to keep it going by another president.”

“I’m the president now and I don’t know a damn thing about this,” Stugotz said. “Mildred, do you know anything about this?”

Mildred coughed. “Ahem. I can categorically state that I do not recall whether or not I may or possibly may not be aware about any information regarding American involvement with the production of a zombifying virus. Further, if I could recall, it would be likely that I could not affirmatively state whether or not I recall due to concerns of national security.”

“God damn, Mildred,” Stugotz said. “You straight up lawyered the ever loving shit out of that one. High five.”

President and Vice-President slapped their hands together. Merrick shook his head.

“Oh great,” Merrick said. “So now you two finally agree on something?”

“Yup,” Mildred said. “If this fiasco gets out of hand…”

“…then its your ass that’s going to be getting it with no vaseline a la Ice Cube’s greatest hits, my friend,” Stugotz said.

Merrick grunted disapprovingly. “Story of my life.”