A Zombie History Lesson (Disney's ZOMBIES)

Lesson 2: The First Zombie

(I'm finally coming back to the history lesson fic! I'm continuing this now as a series of one-shots explaining my headcanons about zombism and zombie culture, all from the point of view of my zombiesona, Lizzy (who you can see in my icon~)

If you read my other fics, and maybe fist-it-out and krut09's fics too, you will have noticed we use phrases like "oh, my Z", "for Z's sake" etc. I did explain this in an A/N at some point but if you haven't seen that, I will explain again: the production designer of ZOMBIES, Mark Hofeling, says on his website that the mural painted on the elevator doors in the power plant shows "the genesis of the first zombie, Z". I thought this was a really interesting concept so started the whole "oh, my Z" thing from there and I've been gradually building up this idea of who exactly Z was. Here is his story...)

Someone had to be the first.

When the accident at Seabrook Energy Plant happened, the first person to inhale the toxic fumes, and thus the first person to go through the long and agonising process of mutation, was a man whose old identity is gone. No-one knows if he was the one to spill the lime soda, but I suppose that doesn't really matter, does it? He was the first zombie, that's what we're talking about here. His heartrate was already dropping by the time the evacuation began and when he was found, it seemed like it was too late to save him. The paramedics and police officers all expected him to die within the hour, but he survived long past that.

He would try to grab at them as they restrained him and dragged him to an ambulance, eyes staring blankly, teeth gnashing and the colour draining fast from this skin. He was snarling and growling; his brain functions were the next thing to go and all that he had left were his most feral instincts. Then some time after, while he was being transported to the hospital, his growls turned into groans and wails and screeches of pain. Though it shouldn't have been possible with the lack of blood flowing through most of his body, his arms and legs were moving in completely inhuman ways, muscles around his joints weakened to the point they could practically disintegrate if you weren't careful, but tightening and growing exceedingly stronger pretty much everywhere else. His veins bulged, empty and black, and dark redness circled his eyes.

The man was beyond any level of comprehension now. He could no longer speak with his facial muscles burning and nothing even closely resembling language left in his mind. His humanity was deteriorating fast. The other victims of the accident had been left where they were – it was far too dangerous to bring more of them in and besides, there wasn't any way to reverse the mutation. At least, not yet. That was why they took him. He was stripped of his human name, he wasn't going to remember it anyway, and he was completely severed from his past life. Now, he was just Z.

Contrary to popular belief, by the way, that initial isn't for "zombie"; it stands for "zero", as in "patient zero". The first to be infected, which... is not the right word for this situation. But it's the term they chose nonetheless. Patient zero. The one it started with.

Z was also the first test subject. They needed to learn everything they could about the mutation from him and what they could do, if anything, to either cure the zombie plague, or exterminate them. This was when the barrier was built, to keep the remaining zombies contained while the humans experimented on Z. Every time they confirmed something worked on Z, they went into Zombie Town to capture others and test it out on them as well. He was put into the electric chair. He wore the first shock collar that would eventually pave the way for the Z-band technology. He gained back his mind, his sentience and his reasoning. But he never remembered his human name.

Now that he had a personality again, he wanted out. And with how inexperienced and ignorant the newly formed zombie patrol still was, it wasn't hard to fool them into thinking he was still too dangerous to fight. He was lucky they didn't have the means to sedate the zombies yet, and it wasn't too difficult for him to escape and find his way back to Zombie Town. The guards he found at the barrier assumed he had broken out from inside and he didn't resist when they forced him through the gate. Now, he was with his people.

When the zombies who had been taken to containment before recognised him, they welcomed him. They taught him to speak in the language they were developing and asked him what he knew about the humans' experiments and what they had planned for them. The patrol returned again, now looking for the previous test subjects to observe their progress, but also looking for the escaped patient zero. Z was an asset to the zombies, though, and they kept him hidden from the humans for as long as they could. He gave what reassurance he could to his people, both those who had already gone before and those being taken for the first time to be given shock collars. The zombies started to see him as something of a leader. He was experienced and after going through the experiments, he was further along in his process of regaining his humanity than any of them. And besides, he was the first zombie.

So many of them had forgotten their human names, even now, and the few who did felt so disconnected from their pasts. To show their solidarity and loyalty to Z, and to their building community as a whole, every zombie chose a new name. Each family picked a name they felt connected them to their new identities, and every individual zombie chose a first name that included a "Z" somewhere in it. Z was touched.

It wasn't long before they had to let him go. He'd need to be given the new devices that were being built to replace the shock collars which would eventually become the Z-bands. He went willingly and calmly, knowing it was necessary, and the zombies couldn't help being awed by how gracefully he accepted it. He knew better than any of them what sort of things could happen in zombie containment, and yet he did it. Because in the end, it could benefit his people. If it could end up giving them even a touch of their humanity back, it was worth whatever he would be put through.

The other zombies who had been gathered up by the patrol this time looked to Z for comfort and guidance on how containment would treat them. He taught them everything they needed to know and they trusted him completely. And thankfully, this time, the patrol released him again afterwards along with the rest of the zombies. He would be sent back when it came time for another update, but now, he had a home in Zombie Town.

We learned about ourselves – about zombies – from Z. Including that it was possible for a zombie to die.

It was the first ever zombie rights protest and everyone who was able to marched from their homes, the crowd building and building as they made their way through the slums, towards the main gate of the barrier where most of the patrol's guards stood, and at the front, leading them all, was Z. He had totally and completely accepted the role they had offered him as their leader and he was prepared to lay it all on the line for his people.

The patrol were going to try to force him back into containment again. It had been quite some time by now since the last experiments were conducted – their technology had progressed to the point that all zombies could function virtually the same as humans – and they demanded that he return to his old cell to continue once more.

The zombies protected him, or at least they tried to. They tried to reason with the patrol, stating their requests for equal rights to the humans, which turned into insisting. Then people were shouting. Zombies were arrested, and that led to arguing, fighting, rioting.

In all the chaos, Z was taken from them.

There was a new test waiting for him; thus far, they had been trying to control and "tame" the zombies but now, there was a push for an actual cure.

The question was what could possibly cure zombism? Could anything? The fact that it was a mutation was still under debate at this time so anything could happen. The first potential cure the patrol's scientists proposed: limes. If a mixture of lime soda and radiation had caused the outbreak in the first place, who was to say pure lime couldn't have some effect on zombies? And it did. Exactly the opposite effect they had hoped for. A short while after they had force-fed nothing more than lime juice to Z, he was regressing. It was like when they first found him in the Seabrook Energy Plant, feral and deranged, and his collar wasn't doing anything to stop it.

He was restrained but no matter what they did, no matter how strong the electromagnetic pulses or electric shocks they fed into him, there was no chance of him turning back. In the end, they had to kill him.

Every zombie mourned. We still mourn. Every year, on the anniversary of Z's death, we observe a day of remembrance. We uphold the naming tradition in his honour. And we talk about him as if he was a saint.

Because to the first zombies, to our parents and grandparents, he was.