A.K.A. No Time for a Love Story (Book 1): Just Another Day

by Sims, Jacob Louis

  I’m not sure he was dead.

  You see, I swear he was still bleeding, ‘cause he looked pretty fuckin’ juicy, and if someone is still bleeding, that usually means that the blood is still pumping, which would in turn lead to the conclusion that the heart is still beating. Which would, of course, mean that if the blood pumps and the heart beats, then the other organs in the body are working as well. Which would make him alive, to a point. Another thing, for him to moan like he did, he most definitely would have to have had a lungful of air. That shit would not have been possible. No fuckin’ way. So that lead me to believe that he was still alive and breathing, in a diminished capacity, most likely, but still alive. And if he was still kind-of alive, that would probably mean that the other zombies were still alive, too. Kind of.

  Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to dispel the zombie myth that zombies are the “walking dead”. Fuck no! For all intents and purposes, these motherfuckers are as dead as shit. There is no fuckin’ way that I, or anybody else for that matter, could get up and walk around after being skinned alive like that dude was. No way. Hell, I get a fuckin’ paper cut my ass is screaming like a little girl. To have your skin peeled off like that would leave even the strongest dude out for the count, most likely dead from the pain and shock alone. These zombies, however this happened, must have their senses dulled so completely, that even the gravest injuries are like a mosquito bite to them, something so miniscule that it’s not even noticeable.

  So, despite the fact that it looked like these fuckers were still alive and breathing (I could be wrong, I’m no doctor, and I wasn’t gonna get close enough to check), I was still betting on damage to the brain to be the only way to take those bitches down. Case in point was the skinless wonder that was on its way to eat me for dinner. If they could take a grievous injury like that, they’d most likely be able to take gunshots, knife wounds, body-bludgeons, being run over by cars, limbs being ripped off (I did see a zombie with a ragged, bloody stump where it’s left arm should have been, while I was running around), and anything else that you could throw at them. Take out the electrical system, though, and all bets are off, just like in my car. If it works on regular, living people, why not on a zombie?

  Another thing I noticed was that the motherfuckin’ zombie wasn’t slow like in the good zombie movies (although I really dug the 28... Later franchise, with their sprinters); he was moving at a pretty good clip. He was no track star, but he wasn’t dragging his feet like a Romero (God) extra, either. Also, while the dead fuck’s coordination wasn’t the best in the world, he was in good enough control of his limbs that I didn’t want his ass any closer to me than it already was.

  Which made it time for me to get rolling, ‘cause when fuckface let loose that moan, he got the attention of the rest of the meat-bags, and they were all coming my way and it looked like I was next on their menu. So off I ran, again.

  3

  I had just gotten to the alley at the other side of the street when I heard another loud vocalization coming from behind me. This time, it wasn’t from no zombie, unless they could speak and somehow knew my name (which would’ve been pretty fuckin’ freaky); it was from a “living” person, a person that I didn’t think I’d ever see again: my ex, Jamie Sass.

  “Daaaaaaaave!!! Don’t you fuckin’ leave me, you dick!!!,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Jesus Christ, come back and help me, please!!! They’re gonna fucking kill me!!!”.

  She was getting backed up against a wall about ten feet past the wrecked cars (aka the zombies’ buffet), swinging a big-ass stick around while the zombies boxed her in completely, leaving her no means of escape - unless she wanted to run right through them, which would’ve been a bad fuckin’ idea. And since I really didn’t want to see the girl who I was once in love with get gnawed on, I figured I had better get my ass over there and save her. Somehow.

  “You stupid fuckin’ bitch, what the hell are you doing out here?!!! Don’t you know it’s the fuckin’ Zombie Apocalypse?!!!,” I angrily yelled back, as I ran towards her. “Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?!!!”.

  I had no plan, I was running towards at least thirty zombies empty handed, and I really wasn’t sure if I wanted to help her out ‘cause the bitch broke my heart. But there I was anyway, running pell-mell to what was most likely my doom. Maybe it was because of that amazing ass, or the fact that she was so fuckin’ beautiful, I don’t know. Or maybe I just felt like being a hero.

  Either way, there I was.

  “I hope we live through this!!!,” I yelled as I approached the wrecked cars, “ ‘cause you’re gonna owe me big time, babe!!!”

  Maybe god is real, or there is some sort of sentient being watching down on us, helping us out in our times of need, or maybe the stars aligned and shit, ‘cause when I got beside that wreck, something made me slow down and look in a window of one of the cars. There, in a beam of sunlight (no shit) were the two things that had been on my mind continuously since I realized what was going down: a 30-pack of Busch, and a baseball bat - a worthy weapon to bash in zombie skulls with. Halle-fuckin’-lujah!!! I yanked out that bat, snagged a beer from the case, pounded it, and ran on, feeling better than I had all motherfuckin’ day.

  I didn’t see how it happened, but Jamie had gotten herself outta the ring of zombies and made it onto the roof of an SUV that was parked at the curb further down the street. She was holding her own pretty well, smacking the zombies in their heads with that big stick when they tried climbing up after her. I just hoped that she didn’t get bit, ‘cause that would’ve sucked in more ways than one. Plus, that whole saving her business would’ve been a complete waste of time, risking my life for a chick that was basically dead on her feet.

  “Hurry the fuck up, Dave!!!,” she screamed as she brought her stick down on the head of a female zombie - that looked a lot like the crazy lady I always saw picking up garbage from the street - and cracked them both.

  “All right, all right, I’m here!!!,” I hollered up at her as I got to the zombie-enclosed SUV, bringing my bat up against a zombies head in a home-run swing. I’m talking a 400 feet down the middle home-run at Wrigley Field, now, not one of those left or right field runs. That dudes head literally blew the fuck up! It was awesome!!!

  From then on, it got pretty messy.

  I quickly smacked the zombie to the right of squishy-head in a pretty fuckin’ powerful backswing, knocking it to the ground, and then took out the knees of a few of the zombies to my immediate left and right, making them fall to the ground as well. Before they could try and get up, I smashed their heads to pulp, and got doused in brains and blood. Another zombie, a little pip-squeek, nerdy looking dude, tried coming at me while I was preoccupied, but I saw him in my peripheral vision and lunged up at him and drove the barrel of the bat up under his chin, breaking his jaw and spraying his teeth everywhere. I then drove him like a battering ram into a small group of zombies that had given up on Jamie, thinking (if they did?) that I was an easier meal. I juked and jived my way between the fucks I had just knocked down, pounded their heads and faces in, broke their necks, did all kinds of nasty shit to them, and then moved on to the rest.

  By the time I was done, I was covered from head to toe in fucking zombie gore. It was fuckin’ disgusting. I’m really surprised I didn’t puke again. Seriously. I fuckin’ stunk like shit. Shit on top of shit, since I had shit my pants not too long before. Scratch that victory fuck I was thinking about while I destroyed those zombies. I just hoped that none of that shit got in my mouth or eyes, ‘cause that most likely would’ve meant death for my ass. But again, who really knows?

  “Oh my god, Dave, thank you so much,” Jamie said as she climbed down from the SUV. “You fuckin’ saved my life, baby, I wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t shown up.”

  I could tell she wanted to hug me, and maybe give me a BJ (wishful thinking, of course), but she played it smart and kept her distance. I was really regretting getting my ass so fuckin’ nasty, ‘cause I was r
eady to throw down right there in the street. That battle got my blood pumping, and I was fully torqued, if ya know what I mean. Too bad, so sad.

  “Hey, it’s no problem, really. I definitely didn’t what to see you get eaten. I’ve already seen too many people get ate already, so I did what I had to do,” I replied, breathing heavily. “What I want to know, is just what the fuck you are doing out here in the first place?”

  “Probably the same thing you’re doing out here, Dave. I didn’t know anything was happening. Once I realized, which didn’t take long at all, I figured I’d try and get to your place, because your crazy ass has all those guns there. I thought I’d be safe with you. Some asshole t-boned me a half an hour ago, and that’s why I was walking there.”

  “Well, you got pretty fucking lucky, Jamie, that’s for sure,” I said to her. While I had been quiet as possible as I was bashing zombie heads in, I must’ve been seen, because there was a good number more coming towards us from down the street. “I’d love to stand here and catch up with ya… really, it’s been a while… but I think we’d better get moving. We’re starting to draw a crowd.”

  “Okay… are we going to your place, or are you going someplace else?” she asked, “because it looked like you were headed away from, not towards your apartment.”

  “Yeah, I was headed for the cop-shop, hoping to get my hands on a gun. I kinda had to run away from my place. There was some zombies blocking the door up, but they’re probably gone by now. We’ll go there. And you’re right, I had no clue as to what was going on. Let’s bounce.”

  I led her back to the wrecked cars so I could grab the thirty-pack (priorities, baby!), and figured we’d go back the same way I came. I found a back pack in the car, dumped it, and emptied the case of beer into that (keeping two out for the road) while she kept a lookout with the bat, so we both could have our hands free if we ran into any more action. I put the pack on after it was filled up, because I figured it’d be easier for me to carry it than her. You know, ‘cause she’s a girl. I also found another baseball bat in the backseat of another of the cars, so we both had ourselves some protection.

  After we finished our beers we made our way back to the alley with our bats at the ready, just in case we ran into any company. Right when we turned the corner into the alley, that company came a-calling.

  “Holy shit, Dave!!! They’re everywhere!!!,” Jamie yelled, as we both quickly backed up.

  “Jesus Christ, this shit was clear ten minutes ago!!!,” I said, dejectedly. “Fuck!!!”

  That motherfucker was packed wall-to-wall. It was sick! They weren’t packed in there like sardines, but it was pretty fuckin’ close. There was no fuckin’ way we were gonna be able to fight our way through that shit, so we turned and ran down Gooding, only the opposite way from the car wreck, since by now there was a shit-ton of zombies coming from that direction as well. The way we were headed wasn’t crystal clear either, but the zombies weren’t nearly as thick as from the other ways, and it looked like we’d be able to swing our way through.

  It was like a scene from “Braveheart” or something - the both of us running, screaming at the top of our lungs as we made our way towards the enemy; meeting with a loud crunch as we swung and drove our bats into skull after skull of the undead; blood and brains and gore flying and spraying through the air in a chunky, red mist; arms and legs and heads and necks and backs getting broke as we hammered, hammered, hammered, and pounded our way out from the midst of the undead menace. It was amazing… it was epic… it was glorious… I had a massive erection. Again. Jamie even yelled, “Oh my god, Dave, I’m fucking creamy!!!” Uhhhhh, that’s right!!!

  Unfortunately, even though we were both tired as shit and dripping gore, we didn’t have the time to rest for even a minute to catch our breath and try to brush some of that nasty shit off ourselves. The two packs that we ran from were right on our asses, co-mingled into a huge fucking horde. At least a few neighborhoods worth of the motherfucker’s, it looked like. It was mind-boggling that there could be so many of them. It made me wonder if there was anybody left alive. We looked at each other, nodded and smiled that we were okay, then continued on down the street. No time for chit-chat.

  To get back to my apartment and the relative safety that it promised (due to the weapons, its elevated position, as it was on the second floor, and the only way to it being the stairway that could be easily secured), we ran down the rest of Gooding Street, then hooked it left on Second for a block, then took another left onto Wright, ran down that to First, then once we got on First we sprinted to my stairwell door and to safety. No problemo.

  Only it didn’t go down like that. I really, really wish it would have, god do I ever, but it didn’t. Not at all. At least not for the both of us.

  4

  We got to the intersection of Gooding and Second and hooked it left, only to run into another group of zombies. This time it wasn’t a very big group, just around six or so that was spread pretty far apart, but we were very fucking tired after that battle. So instead of swinging our way through the fuckers, we just kinda walked and jogged in between them, taking it slow, pushing them back with the bats if they got too close. No sweat, literally. The horde wasn’t gonna catch up to us, no matter how much faster than movie zombies (the good movies, at least) they were, and this group we were walking through weren’t no thang atall. It looked like we were gonna make it home-free from that point, even though we still had a little ways to go.

  “Oh, man, I am fucking tired of this shit, Dave!” Jamie said, “We’re almost there, right? That moaning is driving me insane!”

  “Yeah, we just gotta take a left up there, run a block, then we’re home, baby,” I replied. “We’ll be locked up tight, with guns and food and shit, and we can both take a long, hot shower and get this nasty filth off us.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait! I can smell myself, and it’s making me want to puke!” she said, with a wonderful smile on her face, her white teeth standing out from the red on her face. “You know, I always wanted to shower with you, Dave. Looks like now I’ll get my chance, ‘cause you’re going to need help getting that shit off you… and so will I.”

  “Now that’s something I can’t wait for! Oh, yeah! We’ll have to take an extra long shower, ‘cause after we clean this shit off, we’re gonna get dirty again. Real dirty!”

  We both laughed at that; it was a nice moment. Even covered in blood and gore, with chunks of brain on her forehead and in her hair, she was still a beautiful sight, smiling over at me. I’ll try and remember her like that.

  5

  It was strange; if it was a stunt in a film, it would have been a thing of beauty, timed to perfection, executed with precision and grace. If I saw it on TV or a DVD, I would’ve been amazed by it, maybe even played it in slo-mo to fully appreciate it. As it was, in the real world, it was a horrible, disastrous, fatal fluke, one that I would give anything to somehow undo. Anything.

  I was about six feet behind Jamie, admiring her derriere, when we approached the intersection of Second and Wright. The way directly ahead of us looked clear, as did the parking lot to our right, but the view to the left (homeward) was blocked by a combination of the Public Works building, a tree, and a big-ass van (one of those that child molesters are partial to) that was parked at the curb. There were various other cars and trucks parked behind that, as well, all the way down to First street, making it a little hard to see if there were any zombies. Just because you can’t see them walking around doesn’t mean they’re not there.

  Right when Jamie got even with the front bumper of the van, a jacked-up Ford truck went flying by towards First, doing at least sixty miles an hour. At the same exact time, I heard a car flying down First towards Wright, and saw it try and take the corner at a very high speed, going into a slide (I was still a good six feet behind Jamie, so I had a clear view down the sidewalk in front of the Public Works building, and I was also able to see a little through the car’s windows).

  This on
ly took seconds.

  Just as the car got perfectly side-ways in its slide into Wright, the truck slammed into the drivers’ side of it, in a perfectly-centered t-bone. The fuckin’ truck didn’t even try and slow down. I swear, the fucker driving it never even tapped the brake pedal. The car went flying over the truck, propelled by its momentum, in a furious barrel-roll, bouncing, bouncing, rolling and bouncing towards us, to where Jamie was about to walk out.

  I saw what was going to happen, yelled for her to stop, and ran for her and dove, hoping that I would at least be able to get a hold of her shirt or something so she wouldn’t pass the van. She took only one step past the van before she stopped. Just one, and turned towards me to see what I was yelling about. That one step was one step too far. I had just gotten a handful of her shirt and started to pull her back when the car slammed into the van and rolled right over her and kept on rolling. She didn’t even see it coming, it happened so quick. It was crazy… I could see the kids inside the car screaming as it rolled by, and I was screaming right along with them.

  I dropped to my knees beside her crumpled and broken body and cried for the first time in I don’t know how long. I honestly can’t remember the last time I cried. I didn’t think I was able to anymore. I don’t know how long I sat there by her, holding her hand, but when I came to the horde we had left behind earlier was nearly on top of me. I got to my feet, put the scrap of her shirt in my pocket, collected my bat, told her that I still cared about her and would miss her, and ran towards First Street and home.

  6

  When I got to First Street I had two big surprises waiting for me: one that I really didn’t want at all, and one that I was very glad to have, even though I was very surprised to have had it.