Authors: Richard Johnson
The ragtag
band huddled together near the truck and asked the man question after question,
eager to find out exactly what had happened. For his part, President Childers
was happy to oblige, and relished the chance to set the record straight. He
told them of the initial outbreak, the nuclear exchange, and the abandonment of
their men overseas.
“And the
Chinese troops?” Trent asked. “How did they get here?”
“The initial
wave caught us unaware because they were pre-positioned in Canada – and even
more outrageous, some of our own cities. Chinese Special Forces and saboteurs
had very specific orders, and during the chaos of the infection, carried them
out to a T.”
“My God,”
Mary said.
“The Chinese
called it The Perfect Day, and they modeled it after the sneak attack in Hue,
Vietnam.”
“I was in
Viet—”
“Shut the
fuck up, Russ,” Trent said.
“Anyway,
they’d been studying our weaknesses for years and knew everything about us.
They had sniper teams take out half of congress on the first day. But that
wasn’t even the worst of it. Local government, sheriff’s departments, power
plant workers… talk about a decapitation strike. And of course, the way they
captured cities was horrible. The Rape of Nanking had nothing on the fall of
Los Angeles. They marched people right into the sea to save bullets.”
“Chicago
wasn’t exactly a picnic either, buddy,” Trent said.
“Of that I
have no doubt.”
“Why did they
do it?” Mary said. “I just don’t understand. It’s not like we attacked them. We
didn’t… right? I never really followed the news.”
Childers
leaned forward. “We didn’t attack them first, and we still don’t know what
precipitated this heinous act. I suppose it’s possible they never actually got
over the Opium Wars. The Chinese psyche is a very delicate thing, and their
culture keeps grudges for a long time.”
“Opium Wars,
huh?” Trent said, taking a much keener interest in the conversation. “Now
there’s a war I could get behind.”
“I do know
the invasion had been planned for some time, and even Mexico was in on it. When
our escort plane landed as a decoy, they blew it up on the tarmac. We’ve been
hiding out ever since, going from one Podunk to the next as our numbers
dwindled. It seems the plane’s lack of proper maintenance finally caught up
with us, not to mention the fact that the runway here was way too small.”
“Do you have
any idea what caused it? The virus or whatever it is that’s turning people
into—”
“Zombies,”
Russ said emphatically, interrupting Padma.
President
Childers nodded. “We had trouble finding out for weeks until an isolated
research center got back to us. You’re right that it is a virus. What’s
interesting is what the virus does. You see, it shuts down an area of the brain
called the claustrum, and thereby disables consciousness. Chinese scientists
made some type of artificial chromosome and attached it to—”
“Boring!”
Russ interrupted again.
Flummoxed,
the president decided story time was over and retreated to a separate picnic
table to gather his thoughts. The night wore on, and one by one the members of
the group dozed off while the president kept a watchful eye on Russ. When
Jackie ultimately went into the cab to sleep, Russ was left on watch since he
no longer had the urge or need to sleep. Plus he felt like drinking some more.
He always did.
President
Childers called the former truck driver over and immediately began to grill
Russ about his “situation.” Of course, this was a topic Russ loved to
pontificate about, so as the liquor flowed freely, so too did the conversation.
Russ talked
about his truck driving, his ex-wives, and how he became infected. The
president was especially interested in all of the super duper powers Russ
picked up after said infection, particularly his ability to travel unnoticed by
other zombified individuals.
A plan soon
formed in President Childers’s head and he had just a few more questions to
ask. “You said you’ve travelled the entire country. Did your wanderings ever
take you through Wyoming?”
“Sure did. I
know Wyoming like the back of my nuts,” Russ said and took a swig of the
rapidly disappearing Everclear. “Used to haul freight through it for years,
back before my license got yanked.”
“Then you’re
probably familiar with the Yellowstone Lake area?”
“Like the
front of my nuts,” Russ said. “Caught a shitload of cutthroat trout there. Out
of season. That’s just how I roll.”
“If I get you
close, can you help me find the West Thumb spot?”
“Yep.”
“Excellent.
That’s where we’re headed. Just the two of us. We’ll fly out immediately.”
“For what?”
Russ asked.
The president
looked him square in the eye. “Russell, your country needs you.” He pointed to
the truck. “They need you. We’re gonna end this war.”
“But why
can’t my friends come with?” Russ asked.
“We require a
light footprint. And your special… talents are just what’s required to get the
job done.”
The speech
tugged perfectly on Russ’s patriotic heartstrings and played into his delusions
of grandeur at the same time. “Sir, let’s fucking do it.” He saluted the
president and then walked over by his friends to say a quiet goodbye.
Russ found
Padma sleeping in the front seat and put his hand softly to the window, peering
at the dark-skinned beauty for a moment. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that
I’ll say good night until tonight becomes tomorrow.” Russ put his head down and
walked away, his eyes clouding over. “Kinda liked her.”
“That’s from
‘Romeo and Juliet,’” the president said. “I’m impressed.”
Russ nodded.
“Yeah, I have the porno version memorized.”
There was an
awkward pause as the president questioned his own sanity. He got over it. “Um,
let’s go.”
*
*
*
The next
morning it quickly became clear that the group had shrunk by two members and
one airplane. Trent and Marquell went ballistic while the women searched for
clues. It didn’t take them long to find one.
A note was
written on the picnic table in what was most likely Russ’s blood. Padma read
the message aloud, shrinking in embarrassment with each line.
Padmay,
It is with
great sorrow that I must inform you I have been called to serve a higher
purpose (have to save the world and stuff). I know we didn’t have a lot of time
together, but I feel fortunate to have met you even under such dire
circumstances. And although Indian food always gave me the shits, I found you
to be one tasty treat. See you in the afterlife. Oh, and the prez says whatever
you do, don’t cross the Mississippi.
Russ
Kaminsky,
Zombie
Samurai
“He spelled
your name wrong,” Jackie said as Padma continued to stare at the note, oddly
moved by the Civil War-sounding letter.
“So what do
we do now?” Mary said. “They took the only plane we had the keys for.”
Jackie
pointed to the semi. “I suppose we try and locate some diesel and then load up
the ol’ ‘Flaming Cowboy’ again. I know the roads aren’t safe, but at this point
we don’t have other options. Does anyone know how to drive that thing?”
Negative. “Okay, so then we’ll have to learn.”
Suddenly,
Trent got very, very mad. “Hey, where’s the coke?”
Charlie and
the group awoke to the sound of crows squawking in unison as the tiniest bit of
sunlight crept through the mausoleum windows. Surprisingly, every one of them
had achieved a good night’s sleep. Maybe the alcohol had something to do with
it, or even the threat of imminent death combined with being surrounded by
solid walls for once. If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well get a
good night’s sleep.
Whatever
reason it was, the gang rubbed the sleep from their eyes and gathered up their
rudimentary weapons. On the other side of the door were several hundred
infected townsfolk with nothing to do but wait.
Vlad swished
the last of the bottle of vodka like mouthwash and then swallowed it with a
grin. “Breakfast of champions.”
“Gross,”
Smokey said and spit on the floor, his own mouth tasting of cheap vodka from
the previous night.
“Not Vlad’s
fault you drink like bunch of Czech schoolgirls.”
Smokey
shrugged. “Is that an insult or a compliment? I’m still having a hard time
telling what’s what with you.”
Charlie decided
there was no point waiting around now that they were well rested, and decided
to give an impromptu pep talk. “We’ve made it too far just to die like this. I
have to believe it’s for some reason.”
“Agreed,”
Katya said.
“Which means
we’re gonna bust right on out of here. Rob, Vlad, and myself will lead the way
and everyone else make a break for it, right into the forest. If you get split
up, head straight west. He looked to Rob and clarified. “Which is the
opposite of the sun right now. I know there’s a river ahead like five or ten
miles, so wait for the others there. But don’t wait long.” They moved the steel
caskets from the door and paused while Charlie looked at each group member in
the eyes, maybe for the last time. “We can do this. Ready?”
They nodded
in unison and the crew prepared to sally forth from the doorway in one last
valiant charge, with Vlad getting a chance at that magnificent death he had
sought for so long.
Rob pulled
the door open, bounded out… and fell down with a crash. He had tripped on a
pile of badly burned bodies that had been resting against the mausoleum. Lots
and lots of dead bodies, with Pong’s corpse amongst them.
It seemed the
flaming zombies had ignited the surrounding forest, killing the rest of the mob
with the one-two punch of fire and smoke inhalation. The creatures simply
weren’t smart enough to flee the path of the flames, and as they had crowded
together outside the mausoleum, they all died where they stood. Every last one
of them.
“You see,”
Katya said. “Someone is looking out for us.”
Charlie
pointed to Pong’s body. “We should bury him and be on our way. It’s the right
thing to do.”
“We can use
my shovel,” Katya said.
For once,
Left-Nut had a good idea. “How about we put him in one of those coffins in the
mausoleum? It might be a tight fit, and he’ll have some company, but it will
save a lot of time.” Everyone agreed, and they set about making it happen.
Minutes
later, Seung Sahn, also known affectionately as Pong, a nineteen-year-old
soldier born and raised six thousand miles away in the industrial city of
Chongjin, was laid to rest. He would share eternity with a pig-tailed
seventeen-year-old girl from the prairie, killed by a fever long ago. Neither
had ever had the chance to grow up or fall in love, but both would never be
alone again.
Meanwhile,
Vladimir checked over the townsfolk and found several that were still
technically alive, despite being horribly disfigured. So Vlad pulled a rusty
axe from a nearby tree stump and put them out of their misery with gruesome
efficiency. The Bulgarian whistled as he worked, and didn’t break a sweat.
*
*
*
“Okay,
pledge, on to the next lesson,” Left-Nut said to Sam. “Let me tell you about
why I love fat chicks so much. It comes down to body temperature regulation.
They’re warm in the winter and shady in the summer. Then you have your chanky
girls. Those are the chunky slash skanky hybrids I told you about. It’s a
killer combo for sure.”
The boy was
the last one willing to walk by Left-Nut at this point. Because of this he had
become a captive audience over the past several hours as they plodded along yet
another deserted country road.
There was
only so much Rob could listen to. “Just leave him alone. He shouldn’t be
hearing your garbage.”
“Garbage?
Someone has to carry on my traditions after I’m gone. There’s a lot of wisdom
contained underneath this crown of whiteness.”
“Yeah, you’re
a real national treasure,” Rob said.
“Left-Nut’s a
jerk. Left-Nut’s always whacking off. Left-Nut banged Gay Mike,” Left-Nut said
mockingly.
“Dude, all
those things are true,” Smokey said.
Left-Nut
huffed. “Regardless, I’m sick of being everybody’s butt-monkey. I get no
respect.”
“Reft-Nut
cranky,” Ping said, putting a few of the English words he knew to good use.
“Suck it,
Ping. With teeth like that I bet you could eat corn through a picket fence.”
“Leave
him out of this,” Smokey said. “He doesn’t even know what you’re saying. And I
wouldn’t be making fun of anyone’s appearance if I looked like a Benjamin
Button version of Don Flamenco.”
“Hey, you
know I got struck by lightning. Low blow.”
But now
Smokey was on a roll. “Guess who else only had one ball? Hitler.”
“Going Godwin
on me?” Left-Nut said, feigning indignance. “But seriously, why am I always the
pivot man in the circle-jerk?”
“Guys drop
it,” Charlie said from up ahead. They were fewer than twenty miles from home
and he was running low on energy and patience. The closer they got to their
destination, the farther away it seemed.
“This is an A
B conversation so… shut the fuck up,” Left-Nut said with a crappy Captain Kirk
impersonation. Like usual, he seemed to be enjoying the confrontation.
But Charlie
was not. He stopped walking, turned, and got into his friend’s face. “Fine. I’m
sick of this shit. This is like the third time we’ve had this conversation so
I’m just gonna lay it on the table. You are completely and utterly worthless.
All you are is a mouth that whines, talks shit, complains, and eats. You don’t fight,
you don’t scout, and you don’t cook. No, all you do is bitch and annoy.”
Charlie turned to the others. “Am I right? Anyone want to speak up for him?”
They spoke up all right, but not in his defense. “See, the tribe has spoken.”
“Like I give
two shits,” Left-Nut said softly. “A tribe of fuckin’ losers.”
“Okay then,
if you’re so keen to pass on your knowledge, let’s tell Sam about what you did
on senior night.”
“That’s not
necessa—”
“Oh, but it
is,” Charlie said and looked to Sam. “The other football team had a player with
downs, and both teams worked out a deal beforehand to let him score at the end
of the game.” He pointed at Left-Nut, who was shrinking before their eyes. “But
this dickweed sacks the kid and returns the fumble for a touchdown as the clock
expired. Spiked the football, moonwalked, and it was game over.”
And then
Left-Nut exploded. “Fuck him, I regret nothing! That was my last chance to
score a touchdown, too!”
“And that’s
why you don’t take his advice on anything,” Charlie said and retook his
position at the front of the caravan.
Left-Nut was
silent for the rest of the day, and it was clear Charlie’s comments had struck
a nerve.
*
*
*
The next
morning, Charlie had everyone up and moving before the sun even rose. He was
cheerful, there was a spring in his step, and he was cautiously optimistic
about what the coming day would bring.
An hour later
the others caught his spirit as they came upon row after row of blueberry
bushes. The field had been left to nature, but what the birds and deer had left
behind could have fed an entire army. Or a dozen Big Robs.
“These are
better than I remember,” he said after stuffing the umpteenth monster handful
into his mouth. “We used to work here during the summer,” he said to Katya and
then continued to gorge, his beard stained blue from excess juices. “Best job
ever. I ate so many blueberries one time my poop turned blue for a week.”
“Cool story,
bro,” Left-Nut said.
Rob answered
with a blast of blueberries to Left-Nut’s face, and soon everyone else was
tossing the tart berries in all directions as an all-out food fight erupted.
Even Left-Nut joined in and soon the trials of the day before were but a
memory.
Charlie
launched a bunch of berries at Katya, who promptly dodged and fired some back,
nailing him in the face. She laughed vigorously at the high jinx and Charlie
noticed for the first time just how attractive she was, burned face and all.
Katya had the heart-shaped face, defined lips, and striking cheekbones common
amongst Ukrainian women, but she also had an inner splendor that matched.
Charlie pushed such thoughts aside and filled his pockets with the delicious
bounty before ordering everyone onwards.
The surprise
breakfast had been fun, but they were now less than a mile from his parents’
house. With a possible family reunion so tantalizingly close, Charlie could
barely keep from running ahead on his own. As the dawn peaked above the eastern
horizon, he dared to believe a happy ending was possible. And then he saw his
old asshole neighbors.
The Johnson
boys, A.J and B.J., were in the middle of the road, shooting pigeons off a
telephone wire and laughing hysterically. “The cables line ‘em up real good,”
the older one said and adjusted his Red Sox hat.
“Won’t be fun
picking the buckshot out,” B.J. said.
“Exactly,
that’s why you’ll be doing it,” A.J. answered, then turned to greet the
newcomers. “Get the fuck off my land!”
“I’ll handle
this,” Charlie said as he approached his childhood neighbors with Vlad and
Smokey flanking him. The men before them were bullies, loudmouths, and
perennial d-bags – so pretty much exactly the type of person Charlie was used
to dealing with.
“We’re just
passing through, Andrew. No need for hostilities.”
“Charlie
Campbell, in the flesh. Glad to see you’re balder than Vin Diesel’s balls.”
“Nice to see
you too, buddy.”
A.J. was far
from finished. “Nice beards on the rest of you dingleberries. What, are you
guys hipsters now?”
“And they’re
dressed for Halloween,” B.J. said, piping up like the toady he’d always been.
Charlie
stifled an angry response that disparaged both Bill Buckner and A.J.’s mother.
“Razors… have been a little tough to come by. But that’s not important. Like I
said, we’re just passing through.”
“I’d need
sheep shears to man-scape at this point,” Left-Nut said to nobody in
particular.
Charlie tried
to pass, but A.J. moved to block him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re
going, Romeo?”
Now Charlie’s
temperature was starting to rise. “I’m going home. Now the sooner you get out
of the way, the sooner you can get back to your Duck Dynasty reach around or
whatever it is you’re doing out here.”
“Now you did
it,” B.J. said as his brother’s face turned red.
“You and I
have unfinished business, Charlie.”
“Which is?”
A.J.
bristled, and he raised his shotgun ever so slightly. “Like you don’t know. You
stole my girlfriend, asshole.”
The
conversation had turned from bizarre to ridiculous, and Charlie clenched his
fists tightly. “Oh for fucks’ sake, that was like fifteen years ago. I had a
full head of hair and I liked Limp Bizkit back then, too. Times have changed.”
“Now you’re
saying you did it all for the nookie? Trying to rub my face in it, city boy?”
“No, what’s
wrong with you, man?”
B.J. laughed
nervously and raised his own shotgun. “Bend over and lube up those bungholes,
boys, you’re about to get plowed.”
Then it was
Vlad’s turn to chuckle. “Very bold, but only making noise. Like way rooster is
king of barn until brought to chopping block.”
A.J. looked
at Vlad with a scowl, but then his face brightened as he recognized the former
world champion. “Holy shit, it’s the Dragon!” He moved closer. “Man, I gotta
shake your hand. That was priceless when you kicked Big Rob’s ass. Fat bastard
had it coming. He knocked me and B.J. out at a cookout one time.”
“He did have
it coming,” Vlad answered. And then it happened. Quickly. Vlad’s knife sliced
through A.J.’s throat like hot butter and found its way into B.J.’s heart in
one graceful motion.
The two
brothers looked at each other in confusion before collapsing upon one another
in a final embrace. It was quiet except for the sound of blood streaming onto
the pavement, puddling around a dead pigeon.
Charlie’s jaw
dropped. “Jesus Christ, I used to play hide and seek with those guys. You’re
like a goddamned Michael Myers or something.”
“Is Austin
Powers, right?”
“No, the
killer, you dumbfuck,” Charlie said, still trying to process the violence as
the others ran up to them.
“Never heard
of him.” Vlad pulled the blade from the dead man’s chest and then wiped it
clean on the B.J.’s acid-washed cutoff jean shorts.
Charlie
looked at the bodies and shook his head. It was clear Vlad was too much of a
loose cannon, and he had to go. “You know this just isn’t—”
He stopped
midsentence as something caught his eye. Charlie bent over and picked the
shotgun up as his heart sank like a stone. There was a familiar inscription
engraved on the side plate – an inscription from his mother to his father. The
two dead men were instantly forgotten as Charlie sprinted towards home. So
close, and yet so far away.