Welcome To Hell.A.

by Stephens, L.

  “It doesn’t look like it to me,” Jake said defiantly.

  “Where are you going to go?” Jennings asked. “You don’t seem like the guy who is going to go save the day.”

  “You’re right,” Jake replied. “I got better things to do than that. I just want to get as far away from the city as possible. Where’s my car?”

  “It’s not your car. Army saw fit to commandeer it. Thank you for your contribution. Besides, there are blockades and a shoot-to-kill order. You would be signing your own death certificate,” Jennings said as he hovered over Jake. “There is an evacuation plan of this base in effect. Your best bet is to stay right here.”

  “We going to fly off into the sunset together?” Jake said with a laugh. “Where we gonna go? The Caribbean? Sounds good to me!”

  “You still think this is all one big fucking joke, don’t you?” Jennings said, looking directly at Jake. “Today is probably going to be the worst day in everyone’s life, everyone except for you of course. Why the fuck is that? Are you one of those guys that get off on other people’s misery? I lost friends and brothers trying to save people like you. Don’t let them die in vain, man.”

  Jake expected a response from Jennings just not such a heartfelt one. He had pushed Jennings far enough, and it had not gone the way he thought it would.

  “That gun you’re hiding is only going to last so long out there,” Jennings said, nodding at the pillow. “So, don’t go wasting any bullets on me.”

  With a loud sigh Jennings got up, and Jake let go of the gun under the pillow and grabbed him by the wrist.

  “You got to help me, man,” Jake said with real conviction. “My girl, I mean my ex-girlfriend, she’s out there because of me. I need to help her. You might not believe me but it’s true.”

  Jennings looked at the hand holding his wrist and then back to Jake. Jake got the message and let go.

  “For the record, I don’t care what you do. Christ, you think I honestly give a fuck what happens to you? You’re fucking scum and you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since I met you,” Jennings said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out something. “If I find out this is the reason you’ve been out in this fucking mess. I’m going to fucking end you!”

  Jennings dropped the small velvet bag of diamonds on Jake’s chest.

  “That’s mine. I didn’t loot that, dude,” Jake said as he sat up. “It’s the reason I’m in this mess but I didn’t loot it.”

  “Whatever, man,” Jennings said shrugging his shoulders. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s worthless, but do what you got to do. I won’t stop you. Just don’t put anyone else in danger.”

  For some strange reason Jake wanted to prove to Jennings that he was true to his word, but he knew that would only send him down into a rabbit hole of lies. Jennings walked to the end of the row of cots and pulled open the flap slash door.

  “You’re going to be on your own out there. Don’t expect me to come save you,” Jennings said and slipped out the room.

  Jake shook his head. He was disappointed in himself. If he was going to survive this, he needed to reset his mentality. He had been subconsciously pretending he was in a movie, where everything was complicated, everyone had an agenda and he always needed to deliver a witty comeback. The only agenda Jennings had from the moment Jake met him, was to do his job, and that job had been to find out more information about the situation and to save lives. He had saved Jake on more than one occasion, and if Jake really thought about it, the only person who had actually gotten Jennings into danger had been him. Jake reached over and checked his phone. He saw a few missed calls from Daryl and a lot of missed calls from his mom, so Jake quickly typed his mom a message and sent it. The message read: “Don’t worry mom, I’m safe. Out of town on business for the weekend. I’ll call you later.”

  She would know he wasn’t out of town on business but a message from him would be enough to allay her fears, especially seeing she didn’t hear from him as much as she should.

  @KillingJake woke up in the zombie apocalypse, again! Met this dude Jennings, he’s probably the best man slash person slash robot I have ever met. #NoHomo #ALittleHomo

  CHAPTER 92: JOY TO THE WORLD

  Images from Joy’s past, the ones you were supposed to see and relive just before your death, were conspicuously absent. There was only black and the sounds of screams. All she could remember was how time had stopped as the garbage truck plowed into the side of the minibus. The guy in the shirt and tie, who by the looks had commandeered the garbage truck, had seen them at the last second and tried to veer around, but it was too late. Joy could see in perfect detail everyone in the minibus instinctively recoil in horror before they even knew what hit them.

  “Joy! Are you there!?” Max’s disembodied voice said.

  His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, but she didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was close. Joy wondered if she was dead and in hell, his voice forever inside her head, her final punishment. Feelings of urgency swept over her like a torrent. Joy’s instincts were telling her she was vulnerable, and adrenaline started pumping throughout her body. She opened her eyes. The sky above was clear. It could be just another day in L.A. judging by her view. She couldn’t feel any pain, but she knew sometimes shock could mask injuries so she decided to move slowly, and propped herself up using her elbows.

  “Oh, I lost my heel,” Joy said to herself as she looked down at her feet.

  Joy had been thrown from the minibus and was lying in the middle of the street. The smoldering wreckage of the minibus lay in two barely recognizable parts, thirty feet away from her. She knew there would have to be a price for surviving such a Michael Bay-esque car crash, but to her surprise, she felt fine, well as fine as one could be in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Joy sat up farther and inspected her upper body. Besides a couple scuff marks, there was barely any indication she had even been in an accident.

  The garbage truck was gone. The driver had more than likely decided his life was more important than any of the survivors and kept going. That was the standard operating procedure in every Mad Max type scenario. Suddenly, there was movement and Joy sat perfectly still. She had failed to notice in the wreckage there were two zombies, feasting on the unconscious bodies of the inhabitants of the minibus who hadn’t been as lucky as her. Joy assumed her unconscious state probably saved her from attack, but that didn’t matter now. There were zombies around, and there were about to be whole lot more of them once these newly infected woke from their death naps.

  “Please help me,” a woman being feasted on said to Joy.

  The woman wasn’t instantly recognizable, but with all the craziness in the minibus Joy didn’t feel bad that she hadn’t noticed her. The woman was dead anyway. Even if she had medical training, Joy couldn’t have helped her. The woman was missing the bottom half of her body.

  “I’m sorry,” Joy whispered to her.

  The woman didn’t even hear Joy’s sentiment. Her eyes glazed over and she died. That was the trigger for Joy to start sobbing. She knew this was all her fault and she finally needed to own it. Apologizing to half of an already-dead corpse that was being feasted upon wasn’t much of a psychological breakthrough, but it was a start. The zombie eating the woman suddenly stopped and looked in Joy’s direction and bared its teeth. Joy froze, the end had come and it was going to be grizzly.

  “Jennifer!” screamed a voice. “Where are you?”

  Joy couldn’t see anyone, but whoever it was, they had just saved her life. The zombie that was about to come for her lost interest immediately, and ran off in search of the voice bringing the other zombie with him.

  “Miss Tannen, Miss Tannen!” cable guy said as he scampered over to her. “You’re okay!”

  “What?” Joy said, trying to get hold of herself. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Joy deftly patted at the corners of her eyes with the cuffs of her suit jacket to make sure she hadn’t smeared her makeup with her tears.
It seemed to have worked, as cable guy didn’t look at her differently. For some reason, maintaining face was the most important thing right now, and Joy had just suffered a major relapse.

  “It was crazy! You landed on top of me!” cable guy said as he squatted in front of her. “I woke up and we were on the ground. My back is all scraped and bruised but I’m okay.”

  Cable guy pointed both his thumbs to his shoulders to indicate his back, but it kind of looked like something Fonzie would do.

  “Oh wow, we’ll have to get that looked at,” Joy said, trying to not spook him. “Can you help me up?”

  Cable guy was frozen in place with his thumbs pointed at his shoulders, like someone had pointed a remote control at him and pressed the pause button.

  “What?” cable guy said, snapping out of his trance. “Oh sure! My bad!”

  Cable guy bent down and roughly pulled Joy to her feet, and she prepared to find out if her spine was fractured or a blood vessel had burst in her brain, but nothing happened. She patted herself down again, looking and feeling for the slightest injury, but found nothing but lies and regret. Joy looked up from her inspection to see cable guy looking at her blankly.

  “Thank you,” Joy said. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

  “I’m Henry,” Henry said, offering his hand to her with a weird “Nice to meet you” smile.

  “Nice to meet you, Henry,” Joy said while she looked around the carnage of the intersection. “I think we should try and get out of here, don’t you?”

  Henry kept shaking Joy’s hand.

  “I think you’re right,” Henry said as Joy pulled her hand away from his continuing shake.

  “Is there anyone?” Joy said trying to be delicate.

  “Alive?” Henry said with strange enthusiasm. “Oh, no. There were a few pineapples over here but I couldn’t fit them in my car.”

  “You have a car?” Joy said, confused. “Wait, what?”

  Oh, here we go, she thought, brain injury. She had been waiting for it, and there it was. Well it’s been a good run, she mused.

  “Well, do you want to show me to your car?” Joy asked, focusing on each word to make sure she said them right.

  Henry smiled at her. His face was goofy. She feared she was losing her mind, but there something not right about him either. A small part of her was beginning to think Henry was just a figment of her imagination and that she was actually dead. Henry’s eyes went dry in an instant, all life drained out of him. His face was white as snow.

  “Henry?” Joy whispered.

  Henry swayed, then fell forward in a heap at Joy’s feet. The back of his head was missing, replaced with chunks of bone and gore. Joy recoiled and shielded her eyes from the misery that was Henry, and guilt washed over her. Turned out she wasn’t going mental. It was Henry the whole time, but now she was alive and everybody she had come into contact with was dead. Joy got her bearings. She could only imagine what she looked like: a titan of industry, a leader of men, a woman standing in the middle of the zombie apocalypse wearing one high heel.

  Every muscle tensed in her body as a guttural growl filled her ears, but thanks to her instincts and her high school self-defense classes, she managed to stick out an arm to create distance between them before the growl could turn into heated breath on her neck. He wasn’t able to take bite out of her, but he knocked her off her feet. All the wind in her body exploded out of her as they landed on the ground, her back taking the force of the impact. His blood-soaked teeth came closer with every lunge as she tried to hold him at arm’s length, each time he got closer and closer.

  “Get the fuck off me, Roger!” Joy screamed. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing!”

  She knew that it was pointless but worth a try at least. Even as a zombie, Roger was still trying to fuck her. Her back ached and air was hard to come by. She knew this was only going to go one way. With her energy fading, it was time to accept what life had brought her and accept what she had brought to herself. This was sweet, sweet payback for all the blind eyes that she had turned and all that she had been accomplice to. This moment right now was her paying the piper or whoever the fuck was sending the invoice, most likely Karma.

  Joy put up a valiant effort, but as he sank his teeth into the inside of her left arm, she knew it was over. The pain was like nothing else. She could feel each individual tooth tearing through skin, muscle, arteries and then latching onto the bone. In one last valiant effort she tried to use her legs, but his weight had her trapped. Those lunges with her personal trainer counted for absolutely nothing. There was a barely audible pop as Zombie Roger thrashed his head around, grinding his teeth mercilessly as he tore most of her arm free from her body. She couldn’t scream, there was no air in her. The silence in the moment was surreal, and then she caught her breath.

  Like a dog with a bone, Zombie Roger hovered over her with her limp arm hanging from his mouth. Joy looked away from the gruesome sight, and then Max was standing there in front of a helicopter, its blades whirling dust and garbage around the intersection. She smiled. He was there to save her and all was forgiven.

  “Joy! Are you there!?” Max said in a distant voice. “Joy! Are you there!?”

  The sun glinted off the shattered screen of the phone that was lying a couple feet from where Joy had fought and lost her life. Joy hated herself in that moment. The fucking asshole had given her hope, a shitty hope where he was the knight in shining armor.

  “I’m here, Max!” Joy screamed. “Listen to me, die!”

  Her screams were dark and real. They weren’t short, they weren’t weak—they were her last contribution to the world. It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t a metaphor for her life. It was brutal. It was death and her last echo on Earth. Zombies had taken over, debris was everywhere, and the random street she had never been to before was where she died, covered in blood and without a friend in the world. As she breathed her last breath, there was only one thought running through her mind, “There’s no room for pussies in a world filled with dicks.”

  CHAPTER 93: GET TO THE CHOPPER

  Max held his head in his hands, looking through his fingers at the cellphone that sat on his desk. Two or three minutes had passed since he had ended the phone call with Joy. He hadn’t had much choice. He had heard her die, just like she wanted. There were no tears; his eyes were wide and dry. He thought listening to quite possibly the love of his life die a grizzly death while screaming his name would have prompted some reaction, but alas, no.

  “Mr. Michaelson?” Donald said as he walked into the room. “You have a call on line one.”

  Max looked up at Donald, his eyes lighting up. He grabbed the handset and put it to his ear.

  “Joy!” Max said excitedly. “Joy, can you hear me?”

  “Sir,” Donald said as he reached the desk.

  “What?” Max said, putting his hand over the receiver.

  “It’s not Miss Tannen, sir. It’s Randall,” Donald said as he hovered over Max.

  Max closed his eyes and nodded solemnly and pressed the blinking light on the phone. He had gotten ahead himself in front of Donald. He was planning on ending their relationship anyway. This just forced the point.

  “Randall, where are you?” Max said in a serious tone. “I have been waiting for you for two hours now. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Donald turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Max said, pointing a finger at Donald.

  Like a robot, Donald turned back to the desk and resumed his statuesque position.

  “What the fuck do you mean, Randall?” Max said into the phone. “We are nowhere near downtown. Get that fucking helicopter here right now.”

  Max scooted the chair in and rested his elbows on the desk.

  “Is the car ready?” Max said, looking up at Donald.

  “Yes, sir,” Donald answered.

  “What if we go to Santa Monica airport?” Max said into the receiver.

  Max’s face was visibly
getting redder and veins were becoming more present in his forehead and neck.

  “Fuck!” Max screamed. “Van Nuys? Camarillo? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck do I pay you for?”

  Max’s knuckles were turning white as he squeezed the handset tighter and tighter. Suddenly, Max sprang to his feet and smashed the handset against the desk until it broke down into small pieces of plastic and wiring in his hand. Max looked at the remnants of the phone and then let them fall to the floor and sat back in his chair, catching his breath and staring at Donald. Throughout the display of anger and destruction Donald barely blinked, let alone moved.

  “Do you want me to get the car, sir?” Donald asked.

  “Shut the fuck up for a moment,” Max snapped. “Just let me think.”

  Max closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. He took a few deep breaths and looked up. Normal color had returned to his face, and he seemed relaxed and calm.

  “Make sure the perimeter is secure,” Max said evenly. “We’re going to go to Plan B.”

  “Yes, sir,” Donald said before he walked out of the room.

  Max watched him go. He was going to miss him, but in the new world he had created, there was going to be no room for anyone who knew his weaknesses or his secrets.

  The bottle of The Macallan 21 on his desk caught Max’s attention. It was half empty and it wasn’t even decanted. Even he was letting the zombie apocalypse get the better of him. The self-medication had come in shorter intervals as the day had progressed and the situation had become more and more dire. With the situation now beyond repair, he poured another healthy glass straight from the bottle and dropped a few small ice cubes in the glass.

  “Donald!” Max yelled. “Get me some more fucking ice, you worthless piece of shit!”

  Max chuckled to himself. He was drunk, drunk on scotch and drunk on power. The death of Joy was nothing to him. She was just another body on the pile that he stood upon.