An unnamed Macedonian column built by the legendary conqueror Alexander the Great was visited many times by Soviet Special Forces during their own war of occupation. Five miles from the monument, one unit discovered the ancient remains of what is believed to be Hellenic Army barracks. Among other artifacts, there was a small bronze vase. Its inlaid pictures show: (1) one man biting another; (2) the victim lying on his deathbed; (3) the victim rising up again; and back to (1) biting another man. The circular nature of this vase, as well as the pictures themselves, could be evidence of an undead outbreak either witnessed by Alexander or related to him by one of the local tribes.
During the Qin Dynasty, all books not relating to practical concerns such as agriculture or construction were ordered burned by the emperor to guard against “dangerous thought.” Whether accounts of zombie attacks perished in the flames will never be known. This obscure section of a medical manuscript, preserved in the wall of an executed Chinese scholar, might be proof of such attacks:
The only treatment for victims of the Eternal Waking Nightmare is complete dismemberment followed by fire. The patient must be bodily restrained, his mouth filled with straw then bound securely. All limbs and organs must be removed, avoiding contact with any bodily fluids. All must be burned to ash then scattered at least twelve li in all directions. No other remedy will suffice as the sickness has no cure… the desire for human meat, unquenchable… If victims are encountered in numbers, with no hopes of restraining them, immediate decapitation must be used… the Shaolin spade being the swiftest weapon for this task.
There is no mention of the “Eternal Waking Nightmare” victims as actually being dead. Only the section about craving the flesh of the healthy, and the actual “treatment,” suggest a presence of zombies in ancient China.
121 A.D., FANUM COCIDI, CALEDONIA (SCOTLAND)
Although the source of the outbreak is unknown, its events are well-documented. The local barbarian chieftains, believing the undead to be simply insane, sent more than 3,000 warriors to “end this mad uprising.” The result: More than 600 warriors were devoured, the rest wounded and eventually transformed into walking dead. A Roman merchant named Sextus Sempronios Tubero, who was traveling through this province at the time, witnessed the battle. Although not realizing that the walking dead were just that, Tubero was observant enough to notice that only the decapitated zombies ceased to be a threat. Barely escaping with his life, Tubero reported his findings to Marcus Lucius Terentius, commander of the nearest military garrison in Roman Britannia. Less than a day away were well over 9,000 zombies. Following the stream of refugees, these ghouls continued to migrate south, moving steadily toward Roman territory. Terentius had only one cohort (480 men) at his disposal. Reinforcements were three weeks away. Terentius first ordered the digging of two seven-foot-deep, inwardly narrowing ditches that eventually straightened to form a straight, mile-long corridor. The result looked similar to a funnel opening into the north. The bottoms of both trenches were then filled withbitumen liquidum (crude oiclass="underline" common for heating lamps in this part of Britannia). As the zombies approached, the oil was ignited. All ghouls falling into the trench were trapped in its deep confines and incinerated. The remainder were forced into the funnel, where no more than 300 could stand abreast. Terentius ordered his men to draw swords, raise shields, and advance on the enemy. After a nine-hour battle, every zombie had been decapitated, the still-snapping heads rolled into the ditches for cremation. Roman casualties numbered 150 dead, no wounded (the legionnaires killed any bitten comrade).
Ramifications from this outbreak were both immediately and historically important. Emperor Hadrian ordered all information regarding the outbreak to be compiled in one comprehensive work. This manual not only detailed a zombie’s behavioral pattern and instructions on efficient methods of disposal, it recommended overwhelming numerical force “to deal with the inevitable panic of the general populace.” A copy of this document, known simply as “Army Order XXXVII,” was distributed to every legion throughout the empire. For this reason, outbreaks in areas under Roman rule never reached critical numbers again and were therefore never reported in detail. It is also believed that this first outbreak prompted the building of “Hadrian’s Wall,” a structure that effectively isolated Northern Caledonia from the rest of the island. This is a textbook Class 3 outbreak, and easily the largest on record.
140-41 A.D., THAMUGADI, NUMIDIA (ALGERIA)
Six small outbreaks among desert nomads were recorded by Lucius Valerius Strabo, Roman governor of the province. All outbreaks were crushed by two cohorts from the III Augusta Legionary base. Total zombies dispatched: 134. Roman casualties: 5. Other than the official report, a private journal entry by an army engineer records a significant discovery:
A local family remained imprisoned in their home for at least twelve days while the savage creatures scratched and clawed fruitlessly at their bolted doors and windows. After we dispatched the filth and rescued the family, their manner looked near to insane. From what we could gather, the wails of the beasts, day after day, night after night, proved to be a merciless form of torture.
This is the first known recognition of psychological damage caused by a zombie attack. All six incidents, given their chronological proximity, make a credible case for one or more ghouls from earlier attacks “surviving” long enough to re-infect a population.
156 A.D., CASTRA REGINA, GERMANIA (SOUTHERN GERMANY)
An attack by seventeen zombies left a prominent cleric infected. The Roman commander, recognizing the signs of a newly turned zombie, ordered his troops to destroy the former holy man. Local citizens became enraged, and a riot ensued. Total zombies dispatched: 10, including the holy man. Roman casualties: 17, all from the riot. Civilians killed by Roman crackdown: 198.
177 A.D., NAMELESS SETTLEMENT NEAR TOLOSA, AQUITANIA (SW FRANCE)
A personal letter, written by a traveling merchant to his brother in Capua, describes the assailant:
He came from the wood, a man stinking of rot. His gray skin bore many wounds, from which flowed no blood. Upon seeing the screaming child, his body seemed to shake with excitement. His head turned in her direction; his mouth opened in a howling moan… Darius, the old legionary veteran, approached… pushing the terrified mother aside, he grabbed the child with one arm, and brought his gladius around with the other. The creature’s head fell to its feet, and rolled downhill before the rest of his body followed… Darius insisted they wear leather coverings as they pitched the body into the fire… the head, still moving in a disgusting bite, was fed to the flames.
This passage should be taken as the typical Roman attitude toward the living dead: no fear, no superstition, just another problem requiring a practical solution. This was the last record of an attack during the Roman Empire. Subsequent outbreaks were neither combated with such efficiency nor recorded with such clarity.