A week after Cero was partnered with Francesca, they received their first mission: hunting Rheal. Cero was unsurprised about this, because he knew that two weeks ago, Rheal had attacked a clothing factory in Queens Drive. At that time, Cero was detained because he had been suspected for cooperating with Rheal but, fortunately for him, all suspicions faded when Rheal murdered a general messenger four days later. That was a shock basically because general messengers ranked higher than he was. They managed the whole messenger population while the messengers themselves, managed the entire zombie population.
So here he was, three weeks later, in Eastbourne. Formerly a coastal suburb, the whole town was transformed into a mass producing metropolis. The whole town was run by zombies that were under the control by the local general messenger. Hundreds worked within factories stacked against each other. They were situated near the mountain, while as the shores were composed of scattered private apartments, retail shops and pubs.
At the end of their first week, Cero found his housekeeper on the entrance of a garment factory. A zombie with the body of an elderly woman, she had her right eye gouged out. There were twelve others surrounding her, all shared the same fate. He passed them, noticing a small group of messengers. They began to carry the bodies to the nearest morgue, to replace the parasites that were taken away. He knew that each of these zombies possessed a parasitic-like organ inside their eye that allowed a messenger like himself to control them.
Cero expected it from Rheal. With the seventy percent of the whole region populated by zombies, he swore that she’ll have one hell of a feast, but not everything is as simple as what it seemed. He understood that lesson when he was interrogated as to why he had not taken Rheal’s fake death seriously. The whole entanglement was partly his fault, and the situation would worsen if he wouldn’t place a new parasite into the zombies. There was no way that he would stand in front of the board council to explain why he had let out a miniature Dawn of the Dead into Eastbourne.
Cero turned his gaze inside the factory. The zombies, possibly fifty of them, that weren't attacked continued sewing. Each one worked on a particular design of garment, working twenty hours non-stop. From Rheal's attack, some of them began to slow, while a few paused for brief seconds.
“Cero!” he looked up at a general messenger on a platform two floors up. Cero can tell by the six fleshy wings that were stretched out from his back. He wore a blue suits with a tie decorated with a logo of the band, ACDC. “When will you actually work and catch your bloody partner? The production in Eastbourne had decreased by 5% thanks to her. If you don't commit to your mission, I will have you detained! I trust that you remember solitary confinement!”
“No worries,” He waved back, puffing a ring of smoke. “We'll catch her in no time. Francesca's back home doing research, and I'm here checking the recent attack. Based on the attack, I was right that the attacks had decreased. This noon, there was another attack and the number of bodies were three more than this one.”
“That doesn't prove anything! I'll sue your ass off if our zombies are constantly being attacked. We don't want the Ruin's reputation to be destroyed again! Don't forget that most of the zombies are the bodies of those who died from the outbreak thirty years ago -”
“But we provide 30% of the total economy of the entire country.” Cero interrupted, placing both hands on his pocket. “The rest of the public may complain their ass off, but we're cleaning our reputation with this mass production. As for Rheal, don't worry. You can trust me, sir. I know Rheal unlike anyone else. ”
“I hope that you don't lag again. I was pissed when it was reported that you spent three days shopping.”
“Hey, hey, I'm innocent in that one. That was my partner's idea. She was and is still a noob in our special...”
“And you obeyed her!” The general messenger snarled angrily. “You’re supposed to be the leader not an escort! Had you forgotten that you had been a given a chance to redeem yourself, Cero! It was just out of pity that we decided against public execution because you were her partner for ten years. Now get out of here and catch Rheal!”
'What about the interview?”
“I'll take care of it!”
Cero stiffened as the messenger walked off, shutting the door loudly behind him. Cero couldn’t argue against him. He was a general messenger, he thought, a rank second closest to the city mayor, Cancabrina. Cero puffed a ring of smoke from his mouth. He noticed something glittering under his housekeeper's clothes. He looked around briefly. There were five to ten messengers that were busy lifting the corpses to a truck. If the corpses wouldn’t get their annual parasite, they would either disintegrate or turn into monsters. Cero would be glad for the former to happen, but he was gladder that none of them saw him ripping out the necklace from her neck.
Cero placed the jewellery under his overcoat. It was rare to find a zombie with jewellery. Before the zombies were used as workers, they had been stripped of their clothes, and any jewellery was taken away. But that does not mean that each check was thorough. Whether the necklace well hidden or that someone must have placed it on the zombie didn’t matter since this would easily cost a fortune. He walked out of the factory, grinning to himself before spreading his wings from his back and headed back to his apartment.
“Welcome back,” Francesca greeted him along with the smell of fresh sizzling bacon. Cero shut the door behind him. He took off his overcoat, placing the knickknacks on a porcelain container, facing her. She wore a red singlet and pink jeans decorated with puppies. Her hair was tied in a bun. Francesca looked back at him raising a spatula to the air.
“I'm cooking bacon for dinner.” she said raising a spatula to the air.
“Suit yourself.” Cero replied, as he dragged himself to a zebra stripped sofa, resting his legs on a coffee table. “I found the body of our housekeeper. It seemed Rheal had dinner as well. She had six zombies for breakfast, sixteen at lunch and thirteen for dinner.”
“That's a little sad.” Francesca hummed to herself, moving her hips side to side. Cero gazed at her. They could always order a zombie cook to make them dinner, but Francesca seemed satisfied to cook. He took out a cigarette from his breast pocket, and tucked it between his lips. It has been more than month since Rheal had faked her own death.
A lot had happened, mostly aggressively against him from the accusation by the general council to his partnership with Francesca. It hadn’t been fault. He had predicted that Rheal’s time had arrived and obeyed her to leave her alone, unknowingly faking her death on the process. Yet, his obedience hadn’t worked well and this mission was the only way to redeem himself but no matter how hard-seriously hard- he tried, he had not made any significant clues of her whereabouts, even the parasite of a deceased general messenger was not detected. Cero was simply at awe how determined Rheal was to avoid capture.
“You hungry,” Cero looked up abruptly at Francesca who offered him a toasted bacon with melted cheese, tomato and chilli sauce. He thanked her, scooting to the side for her.
“You know what; I think we should take a break.” Francesca stretched her long tan legs to the coffee table. “After a week in Eastbourne, we should take a day off, go shopping, go to the beach, or hang out with the local messengers that often hang out in the pubs by Marine Parade.
Cero wiped the sauce from his mouth, staring at her briefly. He wondered if she did what he told her. Definitely not, probably, she was always the unreliable partner, who unlike Rheal was never serious with anything. A newcomer from Kingston, Cero always wondered why the council had chosen her as his partner. She could have been labelled as useless if she didn't have the strange ability of coming up with excellent ideas without a moment of thinking.
“Hey Cero...,” she continued as she rested an elbow on his shoulder. “...How about we head to the vineyard near Pencarrow head?”
“That far...” He swallowed. “...there's a vineyard at Pencarrow?”
“Sure, don't you know? When we went to the pub last night, I had been chatting with a local messenger who witnesses a messenger hanging around the Orongorongo River.”
“That guy was drunk.”
“Maybe, but what if he's right? Rheal might be there. We can't risk losing an opportunity like this.” Francesca faced him, licking the sauce from her slender fingers. “Should we go to the vineyard tomorrow? I heard that there's a small village that sells excellent Pinot Noir wine.”
“You know what I think,” He took a cigarette, pressing himself against the sofa. “I think that you should thank me. It was my idea that we should go to the pub last night. It was my idea that we should have something else rather than your bacon. I am pissed off of having bacon every night. You're just lucky that I can't cook, Francesca! So in essence, your idea is my idea. I am the precursor of all your ideas!”
There was a pause.
“Besides...” Cero broke the silence. “...what about the corpses? After Rheal had attacked them, we need to place a new parasite unless we want to eat zombie brains for dinner. The local general messenger is no longer putting parasites into inactive zombies. It's our responsibility to call the nearest messenger management office.”
“No worries,” Francesca answered, voice seemed to shake. “I had sent an email to them. We don't want Cancibrana's control over this area to weaken right? If that happens, then this place would be a ghost town. It's a shame since Eastbourne provides quality jewellery and the finest clothes around for a casual price of $ 8.99. Even the French love it they even went to our region for a tour.”
“Did they see our zombies?”
“No way, Cero, you know that foreigners aren’t allowed to see our zombies not even our own country men. They all thought that the people who were infected were dead. Just imagine the controversy if our secret leaks to the general public.”
Cero grunted to himself placing both arms behind his neck as Francesca excused herself. She grabbed both their plates before heading to the kitchen. He placed a cigarette by his lips. She felt a little for her but there was nothing else he could do. He had let her make the decisions during their first three weeks and it went disastrous. The council found out of her shopping spree, and he was reprimanded for not being serious with the mission. He was punished for twelve hours in solitary confinement, while Francesca was simply scolded.
“You want some? It'll be a good drink for tonight's show.” Francesca returned, holding a Chardonnay wine bottle, and two wine glasses.
“What's on?” He exhaled.
“Glee,” She smiled, taking out the remote beside the cushions. “You want to give Glee a try, Cero? I promised that it’s a good show.”
“What, with all the happy singing and melodrama? I don't think so. You should try watching murder shows for a while. That will help in our mission. I saw a few episodes of C.S.I, and I swear that I felt my detective nerves tingling. I'll plan to watch Bones, homicide report and that new show, Castle. Remember Francesca, we are here to solve, not to dance to silly music.”
“So you won't watch?” Francesca poured her wine glass to the rim.
“All I want is a good night sleep. We're going to the vineyard tomorrow, just as I had planned. We need as much time as possible to search for her, and don't expect me to carry your luggage again. I did that last time, and I had to visit the doctor after a week of back pain.” He pushed himself to his feet. He took out the cigarette from his mouth, and rubbed it against the ashtray. “Other than that, I'll see you tomorrow. You can cook your bacon, if you want.”
“Good night,” Francesca said. He looked back at her, simmering her wine glass just as the opening music of Glee entered his ears. He shivered as he grabbed his overcoat followed by the porcelain container that contained the diamond necklace, before he headed to the third floor.
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