He paused. The groaning grew louder. It sounded almost like speech. A word, repeated, muffled by rotting flesh: “Index.”
Entry #113: [Pending]. Symptoms: Climbing ability. Intelligence: Unknown. Threat: …
Dr. Aris Thorne didn't slay zombies. He filed them. For the past eleven months, since the Great Rising, he had been the chief architect of the Zombie Index , a living (if one could call it that) document that aimed to bring order to the apocalypse. The Index was the Consolidated Undead Catalog, Version 4.7, stored in the hardened servers of what was left of the Centers for Disease Control. It was a dry, terrifying, and utterly essential bible for the survivors of the Fall. index of zombie
Category: Delta. Subclass: Reactive. Symptoms: Partial laryngeal regeneration. Emits a 110dB subsonic pulse when agitated. The pulse attracts all Alphas within a 400m radius. Threat Level: Extreme. Disposal: High-caliber, distance engagement only. Do not engage within 50m.
Category: Omega. Subclass: Cognizant. Symptoms: Minimal necrosis. Retains 60-80% of pre-mortem cognitive function. Capable of tool use, ambush tactics, and avoidance of common deterrents. Displays emotional mimicry. Threat Level: Unpredictable. Note: Does not respond to standard cranial breach. Target must be incinerated. He paused
Reproduction rate of the undead. Current estimate: 1.4. For every one zombie neutralized, 1.4 new hosts are infected. Net population growth: +40% weekly.
A soft groan echoed from the ventilation shaft. Aris didn’t reach for his gun. He reached for his keyboard. A new variant, perhaps. Another line of data. A word, repeated, muffled by rotting flesh: “Index
Aris scrolled to the most recent addition.
Aris’s finger traced the screen. The Walkers were the baseline, the rotting hordes that filled the highways and suburban lawns. They were the index against which all other horrors were measured. But the Index had grown fat with new entries.