It was the last segment of the tape that made me realize I was an endangered species, and it appeared that the Red staters were working very hard to change that status to extinct. It was then that my interrogator began to make major inroads into what passed for my morale. I carefully examined every frame of that tape as it showed the destruction of literally dozens upon dozens of Mariah class zombies, as well as perhaps half a dozen of the Elijah class. They had gotten the process down to a standard routine, which was the most disconcerting information I gleaned from this display. It was obvious from the various backgrounds that this was not one large killing plant, but numerous small stations where the demolition of my kind had taken place.

Each zombie was fettered with what appeared to be stainless steel restraints. All were in some state of consciousness, many relatively unscathed considering the type of combat in which they had been involved. Initially each zombie was decapitated and the severed head thrown into a pile located some distance from where the processing of the bodies took place, thus preventing any possibility of reconstitution or reanimation. The bodies were ground up in machines traditionally used for stump grinding, this entire Red state area once having been covered in pine and other smaller sized trees. The ground up bodies were then transported to a trench filled with some type of chemical bath that dissolved the remains. This is turn was pumped into tanker trucks and the mixture poured into quicksand bogs, which completed the process of decommissioning the zombie. I had to admit that it was quite efficient and most effective.

The commander was quite candid about what happened in general to the zombie heads. About half of them were made safe by eliminating the optical, auditory and speaking capabilities, rendering them "deaf, dumb and blind" as he so succinctly described the process. These were given as awards or trophies to Red state troops who had distinguished themselves in battle. A few went to the main museum located in Jackson, the Red state capital city, and the rest were destroyed in crematoriums, the ashes sent to other quicksand bogs for ultimate disposal. I had to admit some type of reaction when the screen showed my body, hanging from hooks on what looked to be some kind of conveyor belt. My interrogator laughed as he watched my eyes zero in on my former body. Then he said something that did a bit more than just surprise me.

"What you are witnessing is in all probablility the last zombie of its class and perhaps all classes. When it is destroyed, the zombie army, such as it was, will have been totally obliterated. You are the last of your kind. It is for this reason that I have been empowered by our new leadership in Jackson to make you a very generous offer that will allow you to continue to exist for a rather long time, likely a number of years at the least."

"In all candor I must admit that I am dead set against this order that has come directly from our new leader, the widow of the man who led us to this final victory. It is tragic that at the moment of his greatest triumph, he should be snatched away from us as the result of some minor deviation that was initiated during his cloning, and over the decades finally ended his brilliant reign as our maximum leader. Related to this event is the fact that our clone armies, which were the backbone of our military success, also were heir to the same deviation, but in their case, because of the lack of quality control, it proceeded at a pace that was well over ten times more rapid than what took Bush 5 from us."

"The lack of a functional clone army has severely hampered our military efforts in the other theaters of operation and will put even more pressure on our homeland population to continue to support the activities of the Army of Freedom. Thus what it boils down to these days is morale. That is where you come in. In exchange for allowing you to continue to function, you will act as a focal point for improving national honor and pride. This will be achieved by putting you on a tour that will allow the various population centers the chance to witness what you are and vent their anger and frustration as they watch you suffer the torments of the damned. For in truth, you are truly damned to remain functioning under the most dire of situations. In a sense you are the last of the undead from either side, but that is a thought that I will only share with you."

I had to admit that this was tremendous amount of information to digest and attempt to sort in order to determine what my response to this bargain should be. It did not take more than a few seconds to come to the conclusion that cooperation with this human was the optimal path to take if I wanted to continue to fulfill my prime objective, which was to eliminate Red state people. I had no reason to doubt the truth of what he said. The last month or so there had been a tremendous reduction in encounters with the enemy and based on the information provided by Elijah 47, out efforts to overcome the Red state militias was not at all successful. Indeed I might very well be the last of my kind and thus it was imperative I remain functioning in hopes that at some time in the future I could once more return to action. All that remained was to hear the human's terms and the restraints that would be placed upon me. They were quick in coming once he knew I was in agreement with his offer.

"In your new capacity, there will be almost constant travel. This is the one area of our new leadership's plan that concerns me the greatest. To reduce the chances of you escaping and returning to your original state as a terrorist, I will have two things done to you. You will receive an implant which will send a signal that can be picked up by our network surveillance system in case you somehow manage to escape. To further reduce this possibility, a small but deadly charge of plastic explosive will be surgically buried in your brain. This can be set off from a distance of approximately half a mile."

I could see by his body language and the tone of his voice, that he was quite pleased with himself. I did nothing to make him think otherwise. It would take some serious study of the problem in order to develop an exit strategy. I felt that time was my ally and thus the better my performance as a morale building tool, the better my chances for extended survival.

He then revealed to me his strategy for making certain that I did not escape during the time that would be spent doing from one city to another. After each appearance, which invariably would result in my decapitation as part of the morale building event, my body would be transported in an independent carrier that would always be separated from my head by a distance of at least one mile, guaranteeing that there could be no way for me to reanimate or reconstitute myself except when it was necessary to be prepared for my next appearance.

His next revelation was almost laughable to me, but my logic could appreciate the importance of such cosmetic considerations. I would now be capable of emitting all variety of shreiks, screams, pleadings and the like thanks to a small broadcasting system implanted in my throat area. My other new capability was being able to "bleed" by means of a small pump that could supply a reasonable facsimile of blood from various ports located in my torso. The irony was that we zombies had no feelings and no blood supply. How else could the audience believe or imagine that I was suffering the torments of the damned if they could not hear and see some manifestation of what I was enduring?