Super Zombie Juice Mega Bomb

by MJ Ware

Chapter 10 – Uninvited Guests for Dinner

  I grabbed the binoculars to get a better look.

  The kid was all decked out with a backpack and some sort of protective face shield, almost like a welder might wear. He dragged a weed sprayer in one hand and an old rake in the other.

  "That kid's in trouble. Just about every zombie in town is on his rear." He seemed to have a plan. Running with purpose, only shooting zombies in his path. He must have had some strong stuff—a trail of flaming zombies lay in his wake.

  "Is he coming this way?"

  "No. I think he's headed east, the bridge maybe?" Dropping the binoculars, I headed down the ladder. "Come on. He'll get cornered at the bridge."

  I felt like a firefighter responding to a call, facing danger to save someone else.

  "Misty, open the garage door. I'll spray any zombies too close, then close it behind me."

  "No way, Nate. I'm coming too."

  "Thought you didn't like my driving? Besides, someone has to stay behind to close the door."

  "We'll open it just enough to get the car out. If any zombies get in we'll clear them out easily enough when we get back."

  I didn't like her plan, not one bit, but that kid didn't have time for us to argue.

  "Fine. Then I'm opening the garage door."

  "Whatever. You're such a chauvinist."

  "Just get in the car." I moved two of the pallets barricading the garage door and opened it just enough to get the Mustang out. The undead didn't seem smart enough to bend down. I just hoped there weren't too many zombie midgets around.

  I threw my Super Soaker in back and hopped in. So excited, I peeled out of the garage; the back-end slipped around as if it was on ice. The peel-out was an accident, but I have to admit it was kinda fun.

  "Where'd he go?" Misty asked.

  "Down one of the main streets, maybe First or Cypress."

  I turned down First Street, lined with old brick and stone buildings, giant pines draped behind them. I was in second gear, diving as fast as I could while still avoiding the zombies.

  "He's not here. Cut over to one of the side streets."

  Pulling down an alley, I turned on Oak Avenue. Sure enough, there was a parade of thirty or more zombies ahead of us.

  "He's gotta be there. Quick, drive through them," Misty said.

  "No way. I'll take it up the sidewalk."

  "Look, there he is." She pointed to an olive-skinned boy bent over his sprayer, pumping, literally, for his life. "Hurry, Nate."

  A tall, muscular zombie advanced on him. It didn't look like the kid could get his sprayer pumped in time.

  "Hit it, Nate."

  "No, no way—not in Dad's Mustang."

  "Hit it, Nate!" She pounded both fists against the dash.

  "No, no!" But I had no choice.

  Thud. Thud.

  "Oh no, oh no," I said as the zombie bounced off the hood and over the roof. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop right in front of the kid.

  Misty swung the door open, swept the mob with her gun—zombies dropped quicker than my grades. She leaned her seat forward. "Jump in."

  She didn't have to say it twice. The kid dove in and we sped off.

  "My dad's going to kill me." I squeezed the steering wheel so hard my knuckles cracked. Sweat ran down my face, I imagined the whole front-end totaled.

  "Hi, I'm Misty. What's your name?" She put out her hand and tossed her hair like she was the official welcoming committee.

  This kid was really huffing and took a second to regain his breath. "My name is Kali. What is vexing your friend, Misty? He seems to be in an inordinate amount of distress."

  "Oh, don't mind him. He's just obsessed with this car because his dad loves it more than him."

  "I see. A most unfortunate situation."

  "Don't listen to her. I'm Nate." I waved in the rear view mirror. He'd taken his mask off. His sharp nose and warm brown eyes complimented his burnt-toast skin.

  "Your rescue was most timely. I am exceedingly appreciative of your efforts."

  "You always talk like that?" I asked. He looked as if he was about to reply. "Don't answer that."

  We easily lost the mob and got back to Walmart, only spotting the occasional zombie as we drove.

  "Looks clear," I said as we rolled into the garage.

  "I see you have constructed a base in this retail establishment. Intriguing."

  I didn't have time for chit-chat; I jumped out to examine the car.

  "We're so lucky, just a broken headlight and turn signal. I don't see any dents, scratches or anything." It would be easy to fix. Dad would never know.

  "Did you hear that?" asked Misty.

  Focused on the car, I had no idea what she was talking about.

  "Yes, I believe the sound originated in the proximity of those tool chests," Kali replied.

  I glanced over at a pair of red chests located in the far corner right as a little kid popped out from behind. He wasn't older than a toddler, really. His thin blond hair stuck up on top. He waved his arms as if to say hi. He looked cute except for his frosted eyes and blood dripping down his lips.

  "Oh dang. It's a baby," Misty said.

  "Yeah, a baby zombie," I said. "Kill it."

  The little kid walked towards us on unsteady feet, smiling like it wanted to be friends. Only it really wanted to eat our flesh. I'd taken off my Super Soaker to drive. I had nothing to shoot with.

  "Someone, shoot that thing!" I screamed.

  "Nate, I don't think I can shoot a baby."

  "It's not a baby, it's a zombie—look at its eyes. Kali, you shoot it. Do it now!"

  I started to dive in the car to retrieve my gun.

  "Please wait. I believe I have an alternative solution." Kali opened his backpack and pulled out a thin rope. "If we can secure this around the midsection we can facilitate its removal without coming in contact with its epidermis."

  "Great idea," said Misty.

  "Oh, this is ridiculous." Part of me felt like punching Kali in the throat, but I went along with his plan anyway.

  Getting the rope around its waist was easy. We held the ends and ran a circle around him. It seemed to think this was a game, and started giggling. Even as it snapped its teeth at us, I started to feel bad for wanting to kill the little undead tyke.

  We pulled the mini-zombie toward the door and opened it just enough to get it out, then used Kali's rake to push the kid out.

  Apparently, it wanted to stay and play, 'cause we could hear it crying and pounding its little fists on the door.

  "Let's put those pallets back and get out of here. I don't know how much of that I can take."

  "No doubt," Misty said.

  "Interesting. Perhaps this is an early childhood necro-sapien trait. An attempt to gain sympathy from humans in order to procure an opportunity to consume their flesh." I glanced over at Misty—she looked at Kali like he was a zombie. I shook my head, glad I wasn't the only one who thought this kid was a little weird.

  "I don't think anyone would be dumb enough to hug it," I said.

  "Come on, Kali, we'll give you the tour," Misty said as we put the last pallet back.

  Misty and I showed him around the place, pretty happy with how we had secured it.

  "Your preparations seem satisfactory. Can you relate to me your efforts to procure assistance?"

  "Umm, we actually hadn't got that far," Misty said.

  "You haven't checked the Citizen's or General Radio bands?"

  "Umm, no," I replied, as if I had any idea what he was talking about.

  "And you haven't attempted to signal airplanes using the international distress signal?"

  "Well, I got half an 'H’."

  "Kali, how old are you?" Misty asked.

  "Nine point eight years."

  "Point eight, huh?" I looked at Misty and snickered.

  "You're very bright for your age," she said.

  "I am, in fact, bright even for someone your age."
>
  I couldn't help thinking that maybe he was saying he was smarter than us, so I decided to change the subject. "Over here is where we've been sleeping." We headed back to the vision center. "I'll grab an air mattress for you."

  "I take it you plan to effect your escape tomorrow then?"

  "Escape? What escape? We're safe here, really safe," Misty said, bobbing her head up and down.

  "I think you are incorrect. According to the emergency broadcasts, an air strike is imminent within seventy-two hours."

  "That could be a slight problem."