Episode 3.3

The children had gathered in a little herd around the girl who'd fallen off the shelf. They glanced at Joe when he came in the Walmart, then in unison turned their backs to him.

Joe decided he'd deal with them later. He started combing the aisles for the notebook when he felt a tap on his arm. One of the boys was holding the notebook out to him.

"You can have this if you promise to never come back."

"Fair," Joe said, and took the notebook. The boy started to walk away, but Joe couldn't just leave it at that. "Who takes care of you?"

"Hm?"

"Is there an adult who looks after all of you kids?"

"Yeah Jacy. But she's not here right now."

"Where is she?"

"She's going to drop off the zombies we captured. She does it at the end of each week. She trades them for food."

"...She trades live zombies for food?"

"Yeah. Enough to feed all of us."

"Who does she trade them to? The military?"

The kid shook his head vigorously. "The military's bad. She trades them to Lotus Corp."

Joe thought there was something familiar about that name, but he couldn't put his finger on what. "Why do they want zombies?"

The kid shrugged. "Jacy takes a few kids with her every time, and I went with her once, and she said not to ask, cuz it would be rude. Please leave now."

"Alright, I'll leave. Don't kill any zombies that you catch anymore, alright?"

The kid scuffed his foot on the ground. "I don't like killing zombies. More zombies alive means more food. Sometimes we hafta kill them, though. Like Jacy tells us to kill the ones we catch while she's away, because she doesn't want us to get hurt. But I don't like it when we have to do that. But some kids do. They have family who was bit. And they don't want to get bit, because they have family who was bit. And because of…" his voice trailed off into a whisper. "Quentin."

"Who's Quentin?" Joe asked.

The chattering of the other children fell dead silent. Everyone in that Walmart seemed to, in unison, turn and stare into Joe's soul. The kid in front of Joe scurried away, disappearing behind an old cardboard display.

Joe gulped.

"He's out in the gardening section," said a little girl, malice dripping from every spoken letter. "Would you like to go see him?"

Joe moved toward the door as fast as he could while still giving the appearance of walking. He slipped out and ran, all the way across the parking lot. The kids didn't follow him.

Joe put his hands on his knees as exhaustion passed over him like a shadow. The repeated stresses of the day compounded upon each other, weighing him down like concrete shoes.

Then came the curiosity, sprouting up in him like a beanstalk. Who was Quentin? Why was Jacy trading zombies to Lotus Corp? Where had he heard about Lotus Corp before?

Then he remembered. He had overheard Mary and Grayson mentioning Lotus Corp.

That was the magic that made the beanstalk of his curiosity shoot into the sky. "I'll just take a little peek into the gardening section," he thought to himself. "Information is always useful in the apocalypse. It'd be stupid not to look."

He went back across the parking lot, stepping lightly and approaching from the side of the building. The gardening section was outdoors, walled off by thick concrete and roofed with iron bars. There was a heavy barred gate leading into it, which was locked tight. Looking in through the gate, the gardening section seemed to be the only part of the Walmart that hadn't been stripped bare of supplies. The plants had grown out of their pots, and though they hadn't taken over yet, they were well on their way. Vines snaked across the concrete floor, leaves littered every corner, and roots curled around metal and concrete.

There didn't seem to be anything moving in there. Joe peered in further.

His ears picked up the faintest sound; breathing, rhythmic and quiet, just to the right of the gate and out of his view.

"That must be Quentin," he thought. "Maybe I can see him if I un--"

In a flash the zombie was in Joe's face, spraying blood as it snarled against the bars, its sunken eyes wild and its skin almost dust. Joe flung himself backwards. The zombie thrust its hands through the bars, grabbing hold of Joe's shirt. He struggled. He tried to pry the zombie's fingers apart. It dragged him closer. He could feel its breath, stinking and cold.

Joe looked around frantically for anything that could help him. He spotted something on the front of the zombie's neck. It looked like a little metal disc, broken and scratched, embedded into the zombie's skin.

Joe had to take the chance. He swung his fist forward, as hard as he could, into the zombie's neck.

The device shocked them both when Joe's fist hit it. The zombie convulsed, his grip loosening. Joe spasmed, and fell backward.

They both got up. The zombie continued to growl and reach through the gate, but Joe was a safe distance away now.

It occurred to Joe the strangeness of the event that just occured. A zombie had attacked him. Zombies never attacked him.

"Hey, are you okay?" Joe asked the snarling mess clawing at the asphalt. It didn't respond, just continued its fruitless effort to do...whatever it was doing.

The attack seemed like the machinations of an intelligent creature, yet this zombie still acted like the fungus had full control. Joe peered at the device in its neck; its plastic casing had been broken open by his punch, and now tiny wires and circuit boards protruded from within. Joe glanced down at the ground, where bits of the plastic casing were strewn about. There was something printed on the backs of the shards...Joe gathered up the pieces he could and rearranged them like a puzzle. They became a logo, the silhouette of a golden flower.

Lotus corp? It seemed likely.

So Lotus Corp was making devices that did…something...to zombies. Made them more aggressive maybe? But why would they want to do that?

He gathered the plastic pieces off of the asphalt and put them in his jean pocket. Maybe Freckle would have some insight on the mystery.

Joe entered the Taco Bell, the dust swirling around his feet. Light streamed through the windows into a corpse of a building; quiet, dirty, and completely devoid of life.

"Hello? Freckle?" Joe called. The only answer was the echo.

He felt his heart sink into his stomach.