Zombies! (Episode 5): Sinners and Saints

by Ivan Turner

  "Shit, dude. Take it outside."

  Shawn stumbled out the door, glad to be back out in the open. He really did have to pee, but he pulled his phone out first and started sending a text message. Hunting zombies. Angus Construction. Hurry! As he hit the send button, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. Instantly, he began concocting stories as to why he was on the phone when he was supposed to be relieving himself. Lodi was not someone he wanted to cross.

  But it wasn't Lodi.

  And it wasn't Everett.

  The zombie was right on top of him, a fifty something guy in a ratty track suit. How had he not smelled it? Then he realized. He hadn't smelled it because the smell was already everywhere. It was in the yard and they'd walked into it without even noticing it.

  Shawn screamed. He screamed the way a frightened child screams, but he did not give in. He whipped the bat around as he staggered back. The sharp point scraped against the zombie's cheek, sending it flying back. Gold chains tinkled out of the front of its shirt as it fell, but it didn't seem to notice. As Shawn retreated, something caught his arm. He tried to bolt but it held on fast. Turning, he saw the rotting teeth of another zombie coming right toward him. He pulled up the bat and used it to defend against the teeth. The zombie's head snapped forward, its throat wrapping around the meat of the bat. Another half an inch and Shawn would have been bitten.

  "Jackpot!" Lodi whooped as he came rushing out of the building, Everett on his tale. Everett had one of the aluminum bats and came right in, crashing it down on the arm the zombie was using to hold Shawn. It took two blows to sever the connection and Shawn fell backward, dropping his phone in the dirt.

  Lodi moved in to grapple with the guy in the gym suit. He didn’t even flinch as he shucked his bag and grabbed the guy in a full nelson. Despite his dangerous lack of experience with a handgun, Lodi was very adept at hand to hand combat with zombies. He kept the zombie’s fingernails and teeth well out of position for scratching and biting. Using his weight and his leverage, he pushed the hapless thing face first into the ground and called out for assistance. Now that Shawn was safe (safer?), Everett pulled off his own pack and pull out a pair of handcuffs. Lodi sat on poor gym suit and twisted his hands behind his back. As they struggled, the thing’s feet kicked and its moaning grew louder and louder. Everett moved in and slipped the cuffs on. Then, together, they rolled the thing over. Lodi was not squeamish about stuffing a rubber ball into its mouth (and saying, eat that, bitch) and then tying some rope tightly around its head to hold the gag in place.

  Meanwhile, Shawn was up and using the pointed bat to hold off the zombie that had assaulted him. He wasn’t fighting it per se, just sort of keeping it at a distance. Every time it came within reach, he shoved the pointy end of the bat directly at it. It didn’t even flinch as the point penetrated the flesh of its arm or its leg or its belly. Shawn had to literally push it back. He so desperately wanted to just lift the bat and cave in the thing’s skull. It took all of his willpower to continue this silly cat and mouse game. Then Lodi was on top of it, struggling it to the ground using the same method he’d used on gym suit.

  “We got more on the way,” Everett said.

  “Sweet!” Lodi cried as he got the second zombie onto the ground and began wrestling a pair of handcuffs onto its wrists all by himself.

  But Everett didn’t share in his optimism. It wasn’t just one or two. As Shawn followed Everett’s gaze, he could see four more clearly and other shadows in the distance.

  “Lodi, we need you,” Shawn said.

  Lodi was done with the cuffs and was working on the gag. Shawn moved closer to Everett, the cold of the night penetrating to his bones. He was shivering from that cold and shaking from the fear. He could hardly hold the bat.

  “Keep it together, man,” Everett whispered to him. “We fight back to back.”

  Two more had materialized out of the mist and another was struggling out of the door of the tall grey building. They could see seven now, but were sure there were more.

  “Lodi, now!” Shawn cried. One of the zombies was close to him and he didn’t even know it. Or at least, Shawn didn’t think so. At the last moment, Lodi turned and took it out at the knees. It wasn’t too terribly difficult. It had been a business woman, apparently dressed for work. How the hell she had died, turned, and wound up at Angus was a mystery never to be solved. She wore a long business skirt which was making it difficult for her to walk. The steady shuffling gait of the undead did not jibe well with feminine Wall Street attire. She fell to the dirt with a thud, her head snapping back and hitting a rock with a wet sounding crunch. Noticing all of the others, Lodi didn’t bother to try and cuff and gag her. He sprang to his feet and pulled his gun.

  “Do you know how to shoot that thing?” Everett asked. “’Cause you sure as hell don’t know how to carry it.”

  Lodi cursed at him.

  Shawn counted eleven zombies now, including the one Lodi had tripped. They were moving in slowly, the nearest one still out of range of his bat. They were spread out a bit in the open space and he was pretty sure he could dodge them all if he chose to run. But he didn’t want to get lost in the yard and he didn’t want to be without Everett and Lodi. So he stood his ground out of fear.

  “There are too many to capture,” Shawn said in case Lodi had other ideas.

  Lodi did not have other ideas. But he hadn’t lost his sense of business. This could be a very profitable hunt if they played it right. Several of the zombies were well out of range. If he capped the closest ones, they could move in on one or two and get them trussed up before having to deal with the bulk. He singled out the most raggedy of the bunch and took aim.

  Blam!

  Blam!

  Blam!

  Lodi could shoot. Even though he didn’t know how to cover his corners, Lodi was good with the gun. When you're involved in a drive-by or a gang shoot-out, you only need to know how to aim (and sometimes not even that). Each shot found the head of a zombie. Putting the gun away, he spun Shawn and reached into his backpack.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re gonna get the clown and the kid.”

  “Are you kidding?” Shawn complained. “There’s no time.”

  Lodi smacked him in the back of the head. “What did you think this would be like, Shawn? We ain’t here for sport. Move quickly and do what I tell you.”

  Shawn had no choice. The three dead zombies had been replaced by five new ones in the distance. This was getting out of hand. Where were they all coming from? Had the world ended since their meeting in front of the convenience store? Shawn listened for the sirens in the distance, but heard only the moaning of the wind joined by the moaning of the dead. Then Lodi was talking to him and he had to listen. He was giving Everett similar instructions. Shawn was to take the kid, trip him up with the bat. Swing, but don’t break the legs. Everett had the clown.

  The kid was maybe fourteen years old. He wore a nice pair of jeans that looked pretty intact. There was a graffiti logo on the front that Shawn didn’t recognize. The hooded sweatshirt he wore was chewed up pretty badly. The tatters of brown stained cloth covered any wounds but Shawn imagined that the damage to the kid’s midsection was pretty extensive. He wondered if this kid had been on a hunt in the yard when this had happened to him.

  The clown was an actual clown. He was wearing a pair of bright orange trousers and rainbow suspenders. The clown makeup had run badly but was still identifiable. Everett was sure that he’d been a happy clown but the sagging paint made him look like a sad clown. That was okay. Zombie clowns had a right to be sad. The wig was long gone, revealing an unpainted bald head.

  Shawn and Everett moved together, swinging their bats and taking out the legs of the zombies. Everett was accurate, probably having done it before. The clown fell backwards to the dirt. Shawn didn’t know whether to swing like a baseball player or try to hook the kid behind the legs. His final product was sort of a weak cross between the two and
was completely ineffective. The kid sidestepped the attack and moved in for the kill. Shawn stumbled, withdrawing the pointed bat and jabbing it forward like a piston. It caught the kid in the shoulder just as the dead fingers of its other hand were about to close on Shawn’s shirt. There was enough force behind the blow to push it back. Seeing an advantage, Shawn sprang forward and brought the bat around. It collided with the kid’s chest and the kid stumbled back several paces. This time, Shawn knew what to do. He went in, pushing the bat between his victim’s legs and sweeping it out to the left. The kid’s left leg pulled away from his right and he went over to the ground. The timing was good, too. Everett was there with the handcuffs, securing their quarry.

  While he did that, Shawn pushed forward. The time he had taken with the kid had allowed a beefy homeless guy to get within range. If he’d retreated it would have been able to attack Everett. For this battle, Shawn dispensed with all finesse. He charged the thing with the bat held out in front of him and punctured its midsection. The attack reminded him of his battle with his first zombie, the first zombie, on the streets a few blocks from his school. Yanking the bat away from his victim, he swung it around and hit the guy squarely in the head. The bat was much more effective than the metal pipe had been those few months ago. The zombie’s skull caved in and its nose exploded in a bubble of black blood. Shawn jumped away from the shower, crying out in disgust.

  Everett was finished with the kid and he and Shawn retreated back toward Lodi. While waiting for them, Lodi had managed to secure the business woman and had pulled out his pistol again. He commended them for their good work. Six zombies meant six hundred dollars apiece. Not bad for a night’s work. If he took out the bulk of those coming on to them with his gun, they could probably capture a couple of more.

  He took aim and a scream filled the night.

  They waited a moment in silence, just watching the zombies approach.

  “That was Brian,” Shawn said.

  Lodi nodded. Then he started shooting. He waited for them to get pretty close and emptied a clip, making most of his shots count. The zombies dropped as they approached. Ejecting the used clip, he expertly reloaded the weapon and started shooting again. When all was said and done, fifteen zombies lay motionless on the ground and two were left standing. Lodi moved in quickly, barking orders at Shawn and Everett.

  “We ain’t safe, here,” Everett complained. “Those shots are gonna bring more of them.”

  “How many more can there be?” Lodi said, tackling one zombie and wrestling it onto its back. “Give me a hand here.”

  This time Shawn moved in, letting Everett fend off the other zombie. He got the handcuffs onto the wrists of the zombie, having to snap the left bracelet tight over the exposed bone. Lodi was sweating despite the cold and Shawn could smell him. He rolled the zombie and stuffed a rubber ball into its mouth. Then he tied it up tight and went to help Everett. Looking up and around, Shawn spotted more movement.

  “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Lodi and Everett finished up before any others were even close enough to be seen properly. As he got up, Lodi grabbed something off the ground.

  “This your phone?” he asked, looking at the object in his hand. Something must have locked up when it had fallen because the screen was still lit. “What the hell’s this? Who’s Heron and why you tellin’ him where we are? Jesus, Shawn, the money’s no good if you split it too…” The light seemed to go on in Lodi’s eyes. He tossed the phone at Shawn and Shawn caught it. “Heron’s that zombie cop. I seen him on the television. Why do you have his number, Shawn?”

  Shawn didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, not knowing whether to be more terrified of Lodi or the approaching zombies.

  “Did you rat us out?”

  “I was in trouble, Lodi. I made a deal.”

  “You made a deal with a cop?”

  "I was in jail!"

  Lodi laughed. Shawn didn't know what to make of it and Everett just stood by watching the two of them with this look on his face like he was a rabbit that didn't know whether or not to bolt. When Lodi finally stopped laughing, his demeanor altered completely. He went deathly serious and he stared at Shawn through the cold moonlight.

  "You fuckin' fag."

  Shawn was taken aback. "What did you call me?"

  Lodi laughed again, this time just a short burst. "You're a fag. What, you think I didn't know?"

  Uh oh. Lodi wasn't just putting him down. He knew about Marcus. He knew.

  "You all think Lodi's dumb as a box a' hair," he said, drawing out the gun and shooting down an approaching zombie. "But when all the boys is wonderin' where Shawn's got to all the time, Lodi's figgerin' it out. I said I bet you had yourself a secret bitch who didn't want you hangin' out with a bunch a losers like us. So I figgered to fix it and followed you. Lord was I surprised when I found out you was the bitch."

  Shawn's neck burned. "Shut up, Lodi."

  "Oh, you a big shot, now!" Lodi capped another zombie, ever aware of them despite his tirade. Shawn had collapsed into a world of embarrassment and rage. There could have been a thousand zombies closing in on them and he'd never have noticed. Even Everett was far more captivated by the drama than the horror.

  "Let me tell you somethin', Shawn," Lodi continued. "When I found out, I thought, no big deal. Right? You put it wherever you want and it ain't none of Lodi's business. But the best part ain't even been said yet. This hunt that we're on is all for the fights. I got this gig because I went to fight a coupla times up there in the Bronx an' the boss made me the offer." Suddenly his accent changed. He became very proper, almost British. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the gentleman in charge was none other than Shawn's gentleman."

  And now Shawn's vision blurred. Lodi was lying, of course. Sure he knew about Marcus, but he was just saying that last part to get under his skin. Marcus was on the straight and narrow. He was successful, held a good job. Why would he be involved in something with zombies? Especially after what had happened with Shawn.

  "You're a liar, Lodi. You don't know anything."

  But Lodi was enjoying himself too much. "Whatchoo think, Shawn? Marcus gonna be pissed when he finds out you called the cops on us? Maybe I should just solve his problem for him. After all, bitches like you are a dime a dozen."

  Shawn took two steps forward and swung the bat. The thickest part, just below the point, impacted with Lodi's gun hand. Three bones cracked and the gun went to the ground. Lodi wasn't laughing anymore. But he wasn't exactly crying. Lodi had been fighting for years and while many of the other impressions people had about him may have been engineered, the one that was fact was that he was tough as nails.

  Everett made a move to intercept and then decided against it. He had long since learned not to mess with Lodi and Shawn was wild. Not to mention the fact that the cops were probably on their way. No, Everett quickly got his bearings and took off. For him it was a wasted night. Blood, gore, and cold. Horrible, frightening work. And nothing to show for it. But at least he would get to go home.

  Lodi ducked Shawn's next swing and came up under the bat, grabbing Shawn by the arm. Lodi was strong and he was a good fighter, but Shawn was two years older and manic. Not bothering with the hand grabbing his arm, he reached out with his own free hand and squeezed Lodi's broken one. Lodi screamed in pain and rage. The agony sapped the strength from him. Shawn struggled free of his grip and tripped him up. As they fought, two more zombies approached. Lodi tried to spin Shawn into their general direction, but all he managed to do was give Shawn decent momentum to bring the bat around again. This time, he connected with Lodi's head and felt the skull give way. Lodi went down like a sack of dirt. Turning quickly on the two zombies, Shawn finished them off as well.

  Now he heard the sirens. Heron was coming.

  Breathing steam into the night air, he crept over to where Lodi lay. There was blood coming from his ears and his mouth. If he wasn't dead yet, he soon would be. Shawn had never kill
ed anyone before. Oh wait, that wasn't true. He’d killed Larry Koplowitz. No. Larry was already dead. Then he'd killed Allison Ciccio. Bitten but not dead. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he was a murderer. Well if that was the case, then maybe a night at the fights was just what he needed. And when he got there, maybe he would be a murderer just one more time.