Books of the Dead (Book 8): The Living Dead Girl

by Spears, R. J.

  The rational mind doesn’t like illogical activities or actions. It likes regular and predictable patterns. Patterns were good and manageable. Things that happened outside those parameters were anomalies that lived outside the grooves of regular patterns. In ways, the rational mind tries to take those ‘square peg’ things that were outside the normal and explainable and tries to smooth down the sharp edges. It would do whatever it had to get whatever square thing it saw to fit into that proverbial round hole. Or, at least, make the square an oval.

  Basically, the rational mind doesn’t like weird and crazy shit.

  Survival took precedence, and whatever had happened slipped into the backs of our minds because we had a very real challenge ahead of us. We were running out of food and water. It wasn’t dire yet, but it was only a matter of time before we had to do something or else we’d get very, very thin. While that might appeal to runway models, it wasn’t the way to go as a long term survival strategy.

  Alex called an ‘all-team’ meeting in a small conference room just outside the lab where Doctor M and Lori were doing their experiments on Naveen. The longer these experiments went on, the more and more Doctor M began to remind me of a mad scientist. At times, he was almost exuberant with the challenge of replicating his vaccine, but on other occasions, he was inconsolable with self-doubt. Lori remained his steadfast cheerleader, but I didn’t know how. There were moments that Doctor M’s arrogance made me want to punch him in the face, but I came to feel sorry for him during the times when he fell into the pits of despair.

  “We just have to nut up and do it,” Alex said as she stood beside the table with one leg up on a chair.

  “There could be hundreds of zombies on one and two,” Richard said. “Do you think they’ll just let you pass through them to the back dock?”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy,” Alex said. “But we have a month’s worth of food and water left up here. We might make it two months at half-rations starting today.”

  “We go down there, and we’ll just be feeding them, and we will be the food,” Richard said.

  “You’re not hearing me, ass for brains,” Alex said, leaning toward Richard who was seated. “We will die without food. We do not have a choice.”

  “It’s hopeless,” Brother Ed said from the other side of the table wearing a hangdog expression. “We can’t take on all those zombies. It’s just a lost cause.”

  In our face off with Colonel Kilgore and his soldiers, Brother Ed had been seriously injured and, from a clinical definition, had died. At least for almost two minutes, but Richard had resuscitated Brother Ed.

  You’d think anyone would be happy to remain in the land of the living, but Brother Ed isn’t a normal person.

  “Now, Brother Ed, it’s not hopeless,” Kara said, reaching out a hand to pat his arm.

  “It is, and I shouldn’t be here,” Brother Ed said and the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have increased in their depth.

  You see, he had been given a prophecy (his one and only) from God that he would die in a final battle with our enemy. With that death, he would be released from this cesspool of a world into heaven. (Brother Ed called it a cesspool. I think it’s more of a sewer.) But this isn’t how it went down, so he was none too happy about having to stick around on this mortal coil. It had gotten so bad that there was little doubt he was morosely depressed to such an extent that we almost had to force him to eat. (That did allow more food for us, but we couldn’t just let him starve. Could we?)

  “Brother Ed, you are here, and I know you…” (I paused searching for kind words instead of just saying he needed to get over himself) “you have your reservations about that, but life goes on. It’s time to get back on the horse and realize that you are here for a purpose.”

  He looked me square in the eyes and asked, “And what is that?”

  Kara saved me a moment later because I really didn’t know why any of us were here. There so many times, our lives in this shitty excuse for a world came across like an absurd joke. What I did know was there was some big cosmic chess game going on between the forces of good and evil. And we were caught up in it. No, we were not Kings or Queens. We were lowly pawns and almost disposable as far as I could tell.

  Yeah, believe me, it was that epic, but I was never all that tactful and articulate. I just wanted to give him a swift kick in the ass.

  “Brother Ed,” Kara said, her voice full of compassion and understanding, “you are here because God wants you to be. You are here because He needs you. You have a purpose higher than yourself, but it may not be clear yet.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be,” Brother Ed said as he slumped in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

  “How long is this pity party going to go on with you, Mister Ed?” Alex asked, giving Brother Ed a hot stare while knowing he hated being called Mister.

  Brother Ed started to lean forward, and his mouth opened to say something, but that’s when Naveen spoke up.

  “Brother Ed, I’m so glad you are still with us,” she said as she sat across the table from him, beaming out a smile. “I know how hard it must be for you. When the zombie bit me, I fully expected to die, and I was terrified, but Doctor M’s vaccine protected me, just as Richard’s medical skills helped you. You may need more time to find your true purpose again, but I think you know, deep down, that it is still there.”

  Alex looked at me and mouthed the words ‘Boo-hoo.’

  I knew she was only moments from saying them aloud, so being the leader of my own little zombie refugee gang, I reached down deep and decided to let loose with a little plan that had been percolating inside my head. “I’ve been thinking about our dilemma,” I said. “As you may know, when that massive zombie horde swept through the area, it seemed to sweep up, maybe fifty percent of the zombies here. Now, that still leaves a shit ton of them, but it’s the cards we’ve been dealt. The ones between us and the food and water are what stand between us and long-term survival here. So, we have to deal with them.”

  “Are you going to keep flapping your gums or are you going to come out with this brilliant plan or not?” Alex asked as she crossed her arms and gave me a challenging stare.

  Before I showed up, she had been the leader of the hospital crew, even though Doctor M claimed he was. Except for the experiments, Alex gave the orders, even though Richard seemed to like to needle her at times.

  My presence there caused a ripple in the power structure, and it was clear that Alex did not like it.

  “Well, as everyone knows, each floor has stairwells on each end of the building. My thought is that we can draw the zombies to one end of the floor and let them congregate. Then we can come to the other side of the building and draw a few away from the group. That way we can take them out a few at a time, instead of wading into them and taking our chances.”

  “That seems like a dumbass plan to me,” Alex said. “That means going at them, up close and personal. Who’s drawing them away and who’s doing the hand-to-hand work?”

  “Well, Brother Ed is still recovering, so he’s out,” I said, but then I looked over to him. “Unless you want in on the fun?”

  He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. A part of me was glad he deferred. The old Brother Ed would have joined us in a minute. This new depressed and defeated Brother Ed wasn’t worth taking into any battle. In fact, he’d probably just get taken down or get one of us killed.

  “That leaves Richard and Kara as the bait and you and me as the killing crew,” I said, looking directly at Alex.

  “Oh, fucking great,” Alex said.

  “I sure as hell don’t like the sound of being bait,” Richard said. “What the hell does that mean, anyway?”

  “If all goes as planned, you won’t be in any danger,” I said, trying to sell it.

  “I’m not sure I like any of this,” Alex said.

  “I’m not sure I do either, but it’s this or slowly starving to death. Unless you have a better plan?” I
asked.

  She started to open her mouth, but slowly closed it. Then she asked, “Can I bring my guns and other toys?”

  “You can, but sadly, you can only use them as a last resort,” I said. “We can’t have any loud sounds that will draw more than we can handle hand-to-hand or else it defeats the purpose.”

  “Well, isn’t that just peachy,” she said.

  Chapter 5

  The Clearing Party

  There are things you see that you wish you could unsee. There are things that you don’t see that you wished you could.

  Well, this is the story that had both of these. There was something I didn’t see that I wished I had seen. I was equally glad I was not there to see it because it would have broken my heart. As it stands, what happened crushed it anyway, whether I was there or not.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  Pork chop, pork chop, easy greasy, we can kill zombies easy, easy. (It was a cheer the cheerleaders used to chant at my high school. Only they didn’t mention anything about zombies. Yeah, it was dumb, but they were hot, so they pulled it off.)

  By the way, I didn’t say this cheer aloud. I only thought of it in my head.

  ‘On paper,’ as they say, the plan was simple, but the execution was a whole different story.

  Kara and Richard were positioned just outside the north stairwell on the third floor. It was their job to draw as many zombies as they could to their door. That would entail yelling, banging, and otherwise taunting the zombies into the stairwell. We were also hopeful that they attracted the attention of zombies on the first floor, too. We weren’t greedy. We’d take as many as we could because Richard and Kara would be standing behind the safety of the sturdy, metal door.

  Their job required patience and stamina because these shamblers didn’t move all that quickly. Plus the zombies didn’t have all that going for them in the smarts area, so some of them couldn’t be persuaded to move.

  Or they were too clever for our ruse. Most likely not, though. They were probably just too damn dumb to move.

  Once Kara and Richard had as many as they could draw their way, Alex and I would be at the south stairwell waiting. We would let a controlled group of zombies in and then would dispatch them. That meant our job required equal amounts of courage and stupidity. Alex brought the bravery, and I brought the stupidity. It just came naturally to me.

  At some point, we’d reduce the size of the group enough so we could make our way down the stairs. Then we could find some way to either block any more from entering the building or make a desperate run for whatever supplies we could grab. The latter was less optimal, but we’d take what we could get then regroup for a new plan.

  “The herd is thinning,” Alex said as she peered through the square window that was at about head height in the door.

  “How many do you see?” I asked, trying to get a look through the window, but her rather large head blocked my view.

  “Well, let me see,” she said. “This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef--”

  I cut her off. “That’s not helpful.”

  “A handful,” she said. “We can manage them. I think.”

  She shifted her head, and I saw at least eight of them in view on the landing or the steps leading down the stairwell. I could see a few of them trickling down the stairs to see what the commotion was coming from the other side of the building. This proved our little plan was, indeed, working. All of Kara and Richard’s yelling was pulling them down and across the building.

  Luck had shined upon us as there was a set of doors blocking the zombies from getting any further up the stairwell after the second floor. So, at least, we only had to watch down the stairs.

  “You ready?” Alex asked

  “No,” I said.

  She turned and gave me the hairy eyeball. “We can’t wait here all night, princess?”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Even though I’ve done this quite a few times before, it’s still a bit nerve rattling.”

  “Well, I’ve never done it,” she said. “So, I’m scared shitless.”

  “You’ve never killed zombies before?”

  “No, I’ve killed a lot of them, but I just shot them,” she said as she looked at the floor. “I’ve never gone hand-to-hand with them before.”

  “Oh,” I said. It wasn’t the most inspiring thing I had ever said, but I rallied. “Don’t worry. You can be the opener.”

  “What?”

  “You can open the door, and I can do the bashing,” I said as I held my baseball bat aloft.

  “I don’t think things are going to be as easy as you’re saying,” she said.

  “Are you saying I’m an optimist?”

  “No, maybe just a little mentally challenged.”

  The walkie-talkie sounded from my jacket pocket. “What’s going on down there?” Richard’s voice asked over the tiny speaker. “We have a shit ton of zombies here looking in the window at us.”

  I retrieved the walkie-talkie and pressed the talk button. “Ahhh, my plan is coming to fruition,” I said, trying to put on my best Bond villain’s voice.

  “What?” Richard asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s what we want to happen.”

  “What’s your status?” Richard asked.

  “We have a handful looking in the door at us. So, we’re getting ready to invite them in for a little party,” I said.

  “Well, keep us posted,” Richard said then he added, “Kara says she’s worried about you.”

  “You tell her I got this,” I said. “Easy peasy.”

  “You tell her,” Richard said. There was a clicking sound, and the next thing I knew, Kara’s voice came from the speaker.

  “Joel, please be careful,” Kara said, and it was easy to hear the strain in her voice.

  “Aren’t I always?” I responded.

  “No,” she said. “You’re usually reckless to the point of stupidity.”

  Alex leaned in close to me and said, “She said you’re stupid.”

  “Hey, I get the job done, and I’m still walking and talking, aren’t I?”

  “Barely,” Kara said. “And God has been watching out for you the whole time.”

  “Yes, He has,” I said, but I left out that part where God was the one that kept forcing me into these precarious positions by making me go on these ‘holy missions.’

  “Please, Joel,” she said.

  “I will be careful,” I said.

  “Love you, Joel,” she said.

  For some reason, I felt my face flush.

  “She says she luvee, loves you,” Alex said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, isn’t that nice.” That’s when she punched me in the arm. It wasn’t a hard knock, but there was some force behind it. “Are we going to start killing zombies, or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,” I said. “I’m on an important call.”

  “Joel?” Kara asked, sounding a little strained.

  I pivoted my body away from Alex and brought the walkie talkie up close to my mouth, pressed the talk button, and said, “I love you, too, babe. And I’ll be as careful as I can. Now, I have to go. Alex is getting impatient.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Kara said.

  “Man, she says that a lot,” Alex said. “Your track record for doing smart things must not be very good.”

  “Gotta go, babe,” I said and stuffed the walkie-talkie back into my pocket. “Let’s do this.”

  “So, dramatic,” Alex said. “Next thing, you’ll say is, ‘It’s on like Donkey Kong.’”

  “You’re just stalling,” I said. “Get by the door, open it, and stand behind it.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and saluted. She turned toward the door and blew out a long breath of air. She paused, then reached out and grabbed the door handle but just held it.

  I knew what she was going through. There had been so many times in the past where fear nearly froze
me.

  “You can do this,” I said.

  She looked back to me and asked, “But can you? I mean, really?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Believe me. I’ve done it many times before.”

  She said, “Okay.”

  I could see that her knuckles were nearly white from gripping the doorknob so hard. I watched her nod her head once, and then she whipped the door open and stepped to the side.

  Four zombies stood on the landing like they belonged there. I rarely ascribed emotional human qualities to their expressions, but they looked utterly surprised.

  Well, maybe not. Their shriveled little brains might have needed time to take the scene in.

  I finally said, “You coming in or not?

  That set them in motion. Two nasty looking deaders started for the door, emitting their typical moans and groans. This time, I was sure they really seemed excited. Maybe just a little, but so was I.

  I pulled up my baseball bat, gripping the handle a little too tight. I knew I was ignoring the voice of my high school baseball coach, telling me not to overgrip. It was game time.

  A broad shouldered and pot-bellied zombie took the lead and came through the door first, heading right at me. I decided I needed to get the killing started and, instead of holding back, I stepped forward, uncorking with a go-for-the fences swing.

  My bat connected with the side of the dead thing’s head with a resounding ping. The creature came off his feet and slammed down to the floor, never to move again.

  His partner, a woman in a badly soiled nurse’s uniform, surged toward me, maybe a little more quickly than I wanted.

  I was forced to go with a backswing which didn’t have the force of the first blow. So, instead of going for the head, I ducked down and swept the bat across the zombie’s legs. This worked as intended, and the zombie flopped onto the floor on its back.

  It flailed its arms up at me, but by that time I had the bat pulled back over my head. I brought it down in a terrific and terrible tomahawk chop, obliterating the deader’s face.