Authors: Richard Johnson
Russ pointed
dead ahead and grinned. “That might be the prettiest damned thing I’ve ever
seen.”
“Permission
to come aboard?” someone said from the dark as two flashlights illuminated the
startled women. Of course, the intruders were already standing in the middle of
the water pumping station, so the question was moot.
“Dammit,”
Jackie swore as she stood up quickly and grabbed her crowbar, assuming a
defensive stance. She had insisted on keeping a vigilant watch, and now their
security had been blown by a moment of carelessness.
“Relax
there,” one of the men said reassuringly. “I’m Phil, this is Bobby, and we’re
here to rescue you… if you need rescuing, that is.” Both middle-aged men had
awkward demeanors and were dressed like they just got off the golf course.
“Does anyone have a sweet tooth?” he continued and tossed a handful of
snack-sized candy bars to the women.
They tore
into the treats and breathed a collective, yet guarded, sigh of relief. Someone
had finally come to get them, even if they were dorky. Still, the women had
some questions for the strangers bearing gifts.
“What’s going
on out there?” Padma asked. “Last Sunday we were minding our own business and
then things just went berserk. Is the government getting things under control?”
Phil casually
approached and sat down on an upturned five gallon bucket. He looked like a
younger version of Weird Al Yankovic. “We don’t actually know. It seems that no
place on land is safe. And we haven’t seen anyone from the government other
than some dead sheriff’s deputies at one of the harbors. We’re on our own for
now, which is why we’re out looking for survivors. Trying to pitch in.”
“It’s like
something from a horror movie,” Bobby added. He was still hanging back a little
and fidgeting with his watch. “Kids eating their parents, neighbors killing
each other over bread, no electricity…”
“Then how can
you rescue us?” Padma asked. “We are entirely isolated out here. We should
probably just stay put.”
Phil nodded.
“True, it is isolated, but how much food do you have?” Nobody answered and he
continued, “We’ve got a pretty big houseboat and lots of supplies. Bobby’s wife
and kids and my girlfriend are there as we speak. You’d have to pull your own
weight, but if it’s just the four of you, we have enough room.”
“Yeah, it’s
just us,” Mary said without thinking.
Jackie
cringed inside. “She means it’s just us inside right now. My boyfriend and a
few others are out hunting for supplies and should be back any minute. We’ll
tell them about your offer, though.”
“Is that so?”
Phil said and smiled, revealing a set of horribly crooked teeth that clashed
with his outwardly preppy appearance. “I guess we better get on with it then.”
He stood up and produced a pistol tucked underneath his shirt. “You see, those
things about the houseboat and the wife and kids are true. But the part about
you coming with us, well that part’s bullshit.” He took a step back and cocked
his gun.
Bobby did the
same and it became obvious they were more pirate than nerd. “Toss that crowbar
in the lake. Anyone else that has a weapon should do the same. If I find
anything dangerous on you in a minute, it’s gonna be used against you.”
Mary tossed
her knife into the drink and Bobby proceeded to check the women, lingering
whenever and however he wanted during the search. His breath smelled like an
odd combination of whiskey and stinky cheese, and his body odor was even worse.
Phil seemed
rather pleased with himself for having taken total control of the situation.
“So now we’re gonna be grabbing whatever food you have and we’ll be on our way.
We have mouths to feed, after all.” He pointed to Jackie. “Take Bobby with you
to where you store it. If you’re not back in two minutes then one of your
friends will be wishing you had been.”
Jackie nodded
and took the man to the station’s pantry where she handed over three cans of
baked beans. They walked back to the others and Bobby set the goods down one at
a time on a bench.
Phil took a
look at the cans and fired his pistol at Jackie’s head, missing her by inches.
“You think I’m some kind of idiot? I’m supposed to believe with four grown
women out here all you’ve got to eat is three cans of beans?”
“That’s it,
you can search the whole place if you’d like, but we have no other food,”
Jackie said, contemplating a wild charge at the man. She believed she could
take him with a little luck, and maybe even wrestle the gun away while her
friends tackled Bobby.
But there was
no time for heroics as Phil pointed his pistol at Padma. “I’m gonna count to
three, and if someone doesn’t tell me where the rest of the food is, I’m gonna
blow her damned brains out. One. Two. Thr—”
“Fine, I’ll
take you to the food,” Jackie said. “Will you leave us then?”
“We’ll leave
when we get what we came for.”
Jackie took
Phil across the bridge to the outdated and abandoned second pumping station.
Inside the old building was a large hole that had previously been the water
intake section. Jackie grabbed a rope that dangled into the lake and pulled a
fishing net out. It was crammed with canned goods of all types.
“Jackpot,”
Phil said. “My wife’s gonna give me a big hug when I show up with this stuff.”
He took the bounty back to the others while holding Jackie at gunpoint.
“Nice grab,”
Bobby said and gave him a fist bump.
Jackie
pressed her luck. “That’s it. You have everything you came for.”
Phil looked
into her furious brown eyes. “No… not everything.”
“What’s are
you getting at?”
“There’s just
a little matter of punishment for not telling the truth,” Phil said as his
geeky face hardened.
The lust in
Bobby’s eyes was undeniable. “I always wanted a harem. Nice little selection
here too. Very exotic.”
These men had
been invisible their entire lives, and now they had a chance to correct all
their old grievances, real and imagined, against the finer sex. “Sweetheart,
the next time a man with a gun asks you for something, give it to him,” Phil
said to Jackie. Then he looked at each girl for an uncomfortable moment before
settling on Mary. “You. You’re not as pretty as the others, but at least you
have some damned makeup on.”
“All tarted
up for a night out on the town,” Bobby added with a snicker.
“Would have
been nice if you other tramps put forth some effort. Maybe next time. Grab her
and let’s go,” Phil said and pointed to their boat, a small charter fishing
vessel they had commandeered during the outbreak.
Jen had
remained quiet the entire time, but chose this moment to step forward. The
reason was simple: she knew Mary was a virgin. So, feeling guilty about her own
actions and acting against all better judgment, she decided to intervene. And
to do that she had to place her life and body in the hands of two men drunk on
newly found power.
“You don’t
want her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but I’ll curl your toes in. That’s
a fact.” It was ridiculous, but she had made up her mind.
Phil smirked.
“Fine. Hop in.”
Jen climbed
aboard the boat without a struggle as her friends begged her not to go. At
least she had made the decision, Jen unconvincingly told herself. It was little
comfort once the ordeal began.
There was no
rescue attempt launched and no sudden arrival of do-gooders as the boat slipped
away from the artificial island. Instead, the jackals circled the station about
a hundred yards out, close enough that Jen’s screams for help easily carried to
those left behind. And they could do nothing for her.
Padma and
Mary trembled with anger and sorrow while Jackie stayed focused on the task at
hand, searching for any type of weapon she could find. But there was nothing
useful around. They were defenseless.
The psychos
returned after half an hour of sadistic torture, and Phil tossed Jen, used and
abused, onto the concrete floor. Then he addressed the women as they tended to
their unconscious friend. “We’ll be back. And you better have fish waiting for
us or someone else is getting the special treatment. Hell, who am I kidding?
Somebody’s getting the treatment regardless. But without any fish, it’s gonna
be worse.”
Bobby gave
them a wink and untied the boat. “Well… bye.”
And so the
boat left with the two men, one a teacher and the other a janitor, laughing
heartily. Soon they would reach loved ones waiting for them with bated breath
and smiling faces, eager for stories of adventure and the promise of
life-giving food.
A large man
named Kyle walked through an Illinois forest with nothing particular on his
mind and no agenda to speak of. This day, like many days lately, had been
rather uneventful. That is, until a screaming child caught his meager attention.
He quietly turned and moved in the direction of the screams with haste. Only it
wasn’t benevolence or curiosity driving him on. Kyle was infected. And he was
one dangerous son of a bitch.
Once
remembered for his perpetual smile and gentle demeanor, now he was consumed by
hunger and anger, but mostly hunger. The family man and practical joker had
been transformed into an unintentional face-eating flesh-ripping terror.
Looming six-foot-six and tipping the scales at a ripped two-thirty, Kyle had
become an outlier of the deadly variety. The college basketball star and
successful business executive had been impressive in life. As a killer, he was
even more so.
If anyone was
keeping track of stats – and nobody was – Kyle would be ranking somewhere near
the top of North America when it came to murders, mayhem, and overall zombie
badass-itude. He could rip doors off hinges, snatch a person from halfway up a
tree and chase down all but the swiftest of men. He’d overran one small town
all by himself, wandering into the back of a town-hall meeting, unnoticed until
it was too late, and the panic spiral had begun.
Still, a
zombie can’t be blamed for its appetite any more than a lion or shark, even one
as prolific as Kyle. And so it was that Kyle’s desires and keen sense of
hearing brought him directly face to face with a lovable burnout called Smokey.
Smokey had
been singing his favorite Grateful Dead song (off-key) in an unsuccessful bid
to calm the kid down. He stopped in his tracks. “Heya man,” Smokey said at the
sight of Kyle before realizing it was a zombie peering at him from the
undergrowth. But when Kyle burst from the bushes like a fox after a hare, there
was no question about his intentions.
Contending
with the squirming and screaming child, Smokey backpedaled and turned to flee,
ducking under a low hanging branch at the last second. Kyle didn’t see it and
wouldn’t have cared if he did, and the solid oak bough cracked him good,
tearing a chunk of his scalp off in the process. The violent collision slowed him
down, but not by much, and soon the muscle-bound monster bounded after his
target with renewed vigor. Long legs brought him closer to his prey with every
single step, and the noisy child was literally putting him into a frenzy.
Years of
toking up while watching cartoons on Adult Swim hadn’t left Smokey in prime
running shape, but being on the menu was one hell of a motivator. Luckily for
him the chase had started when he was almost back to the convent, and before
long the walled compound was in sight.
“Open the
gate!” Smokey managed to shout between gasps for precious, precious air.
At long last,
little Todd finally stopped crying and began to giggle as he bounced around on
Smokey’s shoulder, thinking it was some sort of game rather than a mad race for
their lives.
Sister
Katherine was hard of hearing and down to her last eye, the other having been
replaced by a crudely painted glass prosthetic. Even so, she’d remained an
integral member of the convent, carrying out her duties cheerfully and
proficiently. Her one job at the moment was to wait for the return of Charlie
and company. So when Smokey came screaming and running across the field at such
a rapid pace, she rushed to act. Unfortunately, Sister Katherine’s rushing was
actually quite slow, and her arthritic fingers, crippled by years of
hand-sewing Rosary baubles, could only move so fast.
The stress of
the situation caused her to get flustered, and so she stopped in the process of
unlocking the gate to say a short prayer. Smokey was almost at the gate now and
Kyle was less than a stone’s throw behind him. The nun resumed her task with
shaking and weak hands. She grasped the latch. It wouldn’t move.
Smokey
reached the gate and saw the woman fumbling with the latch. He grasped
underneath Todd’s arms and prepared to chuck him over the eight-foot fence,
realizing it was better than the alternative. “Sorry, buddy,” he said and began
to throw the child, but then the gate opened.
Smokey
stopped mid-toss and tumbled onto the ground inside the compound. He spun
around and shut the gate as Sister Katherine locked the latch, and the
hard-charging zombie slammed into it. Todd was still laughing.
A winded
Smokey looked to the nun. “I really need to stop smoking pot. Do you know how
to bake brownies?”
Of course,
the nun had taken a vow of silence and didn’t answer. She patted the child on
the head, pointed Smokey towards the front door, and turned to face Kyle. Then
Sister Katherine fell to her knees, praying for the zombie’s salvation.
Smokey rolled
his eyes and walked inside the convent where the Mother Superior was waiting.
She grabbed Todd and handed him over to the scarred nun who promptly whisked
the now-sleeping child upstairs. “Where are your friends?” Mother Agnes asked.
“No clue. We
got separated and… I just don’t know.” He pulled the bag of supplies from
around his shoulder and set it down. “Charlie and Rob have been in some tight
spots before. They might turn up.”
“And the
child?”
“He was an
orphan we picked up. I have some diapers and toys for him. Not sure what you’re
gonna do about milk and stuff.”
“We have a
cow and the finest fruits and vegetables around,” she said, then smiled. “I
have to say, I am impressed. That kind of selfless act is a bit surprising from
a group that includes your friend Matthew.”
“Mathew? Oh,
you mean Left-Nut… I mean Lefty. Was he giving you shi—?”
“He has been
a bit challenging. At first I thought it was his injury giving him fits, or the
painkillers. But after conversing with the man I am confident he’s absolutely as
advertised. But back to the child.”
“Todd.”
“He will be
well cared for here. Obviously you’ll leave him behind when you move on.”
Smokey nodded
as he thought about Todd’s wailing. It would be safer for everyone involved if
the child stayed with the gentle flock. Not to mention the crying was getting
on his nerves. He remembered the monster from outside. “Oh, and there’s one
more thing. A huge cannibal, zombie, cavity creep – or whatever you want to
call it – is outside. One of the nuns is out there with him right now. You
should get her inside. These things, they need more than prayers.”
“More than
prayers? There’s no such thing, and prayers might be exactly what these
creatures need. Certainly, the one who gave life to all could restore it to
those that have passed, if that is his will.”
Smokey was
about to delve into one of his favorite topics. “Sorry, but we’re not talking
about undead zombies here. This is a whole different ball of wax. They’re—”
“You
might be an expert on zompies, but I happen to know a bit about the scripture.
And this situation is hardly novel.”
As Mother
Agnes pontificated on the various finer points of scripture while Smokey’s eyes
glazed over, Sister Katherine was putting those points into practice. She
silently introduced herself to the man on the other side of the fence, then
fell to her knees once more and closed her eye. If there was one thing the
eighty-five-year-old could still do as well as any younger person, it was pray.
And so she prayed for Kyle the zombie six ways to Sunday. She really gave it to
him, hitting all the high notes as well as some lesser-known quotes she’d saved
for a special occasion. Minutes later, Sister Katherine opened her eye,
confident the prayers had been answered. Kyle was standing right next to her.
In an instant
he was upon her, savagely taking hold and tearing into her withered and papery
flesh. Lost in her prayers and hard of hearing, Sister Katherine had not
noticed Kyle jumping onto the top of the fence and scampering over, and it cost
the kindly woman her life.
Kyle plucked
Katherine’s fake eyeball from its socket and chewed with gusto, shattering
teeth and shredding his mouth to a prickly, bloody mush. And he enjoyed every
second of it, having no idea the gore was of his own making. Soon, the nun
stood up and followed him to the front door, no longer bothered by her sore
joints and crippling arthritis.
Sister
Francesca, a shy nun from El Salvador, was just going outside to tend to the
vegetable garden and didn’t even see them approaching. They latched on and
feasted in earnest while Francesca opened her mouth in a silent scream. Having
dutifully followed her oath of silence for eight years, her vocal cords were
not strong enough to register above a whisper, and so the rest of the convent
carried on about their business, unaware of the foxes in the henhouse.
The next
unlucky lady to enter the buzz saw was Sister Martha, a wheelchair-bound nun
that was in the midst of wheeling herself towards the kitchen for dish detail.
She saw the bloody mess and frantically tried to turn her chair around, tipping
it over in the process. Several bites later and she too was added to the ranks
of the infected.
It was at
this point in time that Left-Nut came hobbling into the entryway looking for
more painkillers. “Are those douche nozzles back with my stuff? These pills are
starting to wear off and—” he stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the growing
puddle of blood on the marble floor. That’s when Sister Martha started crawling
after him with murder on the mind. “Jesus Christ!” he screamed and hopped away
towards the kitchen on one foot, barely keeping ahead of her slobbering mouth.
Hearing the
commotion, Smokey and Mother Agnes ran in from the adjoining room and found
themselves face to face with Kyle and his growing posse of nightmare nuns.
“Not this
fucking guy again,” Smokey said as Agnes pulled him into a tiny bathroom,
shutting the door before the others could reach them. Their safety was
short-lived, however, as bodies began slamming into the wooden door with great
force.
Smokey looked
around the small room for a weapon and settled for the porcelain lid from the
toilet tank. “What? It’s either this or the plunger,” Smokey said as the door
continued to shake from the naughty nuns.
“You won’t
need either,” Mother Agnes said and pointed to the frosted glass window before
pushing the panel open. “Sometimes, when God closes a door, he opens a wind—”
Kyle’s long
arms shot through the opening and yanked Mother Agnes outside in a violent
split second. Her zombie converting experiment was over before it began, and
now she was on the other team, clamoring for warm sustenance.
Not waiting
for Kyle to grab him as well, Smokey decided to take his chances with the
hungry nuns instead. He opened the door and shoved one-eyed Katherine back
before slamming the lid down on Sister Francesca’s head, shattering it into
hundreds of pieces.
Smokey ran
past them and bounded up the stairs with the twin terrors in hot pursuit. Where
he was going he had no clue, but sticking around wasn’t an option anymore.
Luckily for
him, Sam appeared at the top of the landing and fired his rifle off, dropping
both nuns after missing several times.
“Sweet
shooting, partner,” Smokey said and grinned. But the expression soon faded as
the tall zombie responsible for the bloodbath wandered back through the front
door, somehow hungrier than ever.
Sam pulled
the trigger and realized he was out of ammo. “Uh oh.”
Kyle sprinted
up the stairs and chased the two down a long hallway where they found
themselves in front of a locked bedroom. They pounded on the door until it
opened up, finding the disfigured nun and Todd inside. They shut the door in a
hurry, and once more Kyle was left banging on the other side.
Sam and
Smokey braced the door with a small bed and waited to see if it would hold. It
did, but that didn’t stop the zombie on the other side from breaking his hands
while hitting it repeatedly. Little Toddy began screaming again, which caused
the assault on the door to intensify.
The nun,
Sister Katya from Ukraine, tenderly rocked the child back and forth. But he
just kept screaming, and Smokey’s head began to spin as if he’d taken too many
of Julio’s magic mushrooms. His friends were most likely dead, he’d gotten a
bunch of nuns killed, and they appeared to be trapped. For once, Smokey
was devoid of brilliant ideas, and he was scared.
A bloody hand
punched through the door and Smokey grabbed a pillow to try to push it back
through. A second hand punched through and Sam smacked at it with his empty
rifle. Another swing and the beast would be inside.
TATATATATATAT
!
Machine gun fire rattled down the hallway and the probing arms went limp as
blood swiftly streamed underneath the door. Zombie Kyle was no longer hungry.
The survivors
heard voices talking excitedly in a strange tongue, and Smokey’s heart sank. He
had heard that language days earlier, coming from members of the invading army.
Smokey and the others were just as trapped as before, maybe even worse.
Smokey
grabbed the rifle from Sam. “Sorry, but you should sit this one out. They might
spare the women and children, if you’re lucky.”
“What about
you?”
Smokey
ignored the question and looked to Katya. “Put a word in for me with the big
guy.” Of course, like the other nuns, she couldn’t talk. He took a deep breath
and turned the handle, prepared to go out in a blaze of glory, much like Uncle
Russ had.
“All clear?”
asked a familiar voice.
Smokey opened
the door, not to a hail of gunfire, but to the smiling faces of Rob and Charlie
standing with the two North Korean soldiers from the forest. He stepped over
the dead body and greeted his friends with a round of hugs before nodding to
the Koreans. “Sup dudes?” They nodded back, albeit with little emotion, and
walked away to continue securing the sprawling complex.