“Well, maybe not vampires, but some people do believe in zombies.”
“Not me,” Gramma said. “But something scared those girls. Ted asked me to check it out. Said he’d call me if anything else turned up. I’ve got an idea, Andy. Wanna help?”
“I sure do.”
“Ted said he’d call me first if the zombies show up again. I came up with something. Ted agreed with my plan so we’ll be camping out tonight in that old flatbed truck he uses to haul palm trees. It was by the fence along Grand Street where the girls claimed to have seen the creatures. If there are any of those deadbeats out tonight, we’ll find them. The zombies, I mean, not the girls.”
“What if they’re really zombies?” Andy asked. “I mean, they could be. Right? I mean, people claim to have seen them some places. Haiti, Africa, places like that.”
Gramma gave him another of her ‘looks.’
“Just kidding,” Andy said. He looked nervously around.
Later that night . . .
Gramma and Andy were lying down in the back of Ted’s old flatbed truck. They were secreted under a tarp with some oleander plants. Both were wearing night goggles and dark clothes.
Andy thought it was comfortable under the tarp and said so.
Gramma thought Andy must be easy to please and said so. She checked the bag of salt she brought along just in case a real zombie turned up. Not that she believed in them, but if she got close enough, she planned to jam the salt into his mouth to kill the walking dead man for good. Still not believing in zombies, she rechecked where the bag of salt was.
Hours passed in the darkness with nothing going on, but a few rodents were scurrying about. They could hear a big one scooting across the top of the tarp.
An owl hooted from somewhere near the garden center office. Another hooted back to it from the woods. The fowl continued their owl conversation for a few minutes before quieting down.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled over and over.
The garden center got quiet.
The sky was overcast, with moonlight waxing and waning as clouds passed in front of it.
Sometime after midnight, giggling girl sounds could be heard coming from the sidewalk area on the other side of the fence.
Gramma kept her head down and motioned for Andy to do the same. She turned on the camera secreted in the front grille of the truck. Moving the lens around, she watched the action on her cell phone.
Three teenage girls were seen walking down Grand Street close to the nursery fence. They giggled and laughed, covering their mouths with their hands.
One screamed when the motion sensor lights came on, glowing the girls’ way from tall lamp posts near the truck.
“Shut up, Lisa. It’s just a light,” Terry said. “You scaredy-cat.”
“Oh. My Gosh. I was so frightened,” Lisa said. “Minnie said she saw zombies here one time. I thought maybe that’s what that was.”
Carol agreed.
“Nobody believes in zombies,” Terry said. “Nobody. Good grief. That’s just on television and in the movies.” She began to walk stiff-legged with her arms out for effect. She snarled and gurgled and lunged at her friends.
They all laughed.
Terry did a zombie booty pop.
They all laughed harder.
The laughter barely subsided when Carol screamed bloody murder. It was the most bloodcurdling scream possible out of such a tiny teenaged girl.
She promptly fainted.
Her friends could hardly take their eyes off of what had frightened Carol, but they scrambled and picked her up. Screaming and scrambling, they carried her away from the fence.
Carol's scream was so loud and intense, even Gramma and Andy were startled.
Gramma turned another camera toward the lighted area and was surprised at the parade heading their way.
A trio of zombie-looking beings were slowly and stiffly marching out of a grouping of dimly lit potted trees, into the glare of the pole lights. They wore Nazi helmets, and around their left forearms were red armbands with black swastikas on a white circle background. Dark red fluid ran down from their twisted gray faces onto dirty, torn uniforms. Black, above-the-calf boots completed their look.
Spying the spectacle in front of the truck, Andy wanted to scream, but stifled it.
Gramma hushed him quiet. She stayed low and texted Ted what was going on.
Ted called the police first, then got in his car for the fast track to his garden center.
Thinking no one was watching, the tallest zombie reached up and snatched a banana from a tree lining the walkway. He peeled it and took a bite.
An annoyed-looking zombie grabbed the banana from the tall zombie’s hand and tossed it away.
Tall zombie yelled “Hey, man. What’s up?” and punched annoyed-looking zombie in the arm.
“Focus,” annoyed-looking zombie yelled at him.
“Wait a minute. Real zombies don’t eat bananas,” Andy whispered to Gramma.
“You’re right,” she replied. “They eat brains and flesh and maybe the odd rat or something. Although not preferring animals to humans.”
Andy stared at his Gramma.
Annoyed at such incompetent zombies taking up her time, Gramma jumped from the back of the truck bed. She rushed to the front of the vehicle and stood with her booted feet firmly planted on the grass under pole lights. She guessed she was about fifteen feet in front of the three advancing, gruesome creatures.
The zombies were startled at first to see someone standing there. One of them whispered to the others, “It’s an old woman.”
“Zombies don’t whisper,” Gramma said matter-of-factly. “And shame on you for calling me old. Old is just a state of mind. There’s a fifteen-year-old inside this ‘to-die-for’ body.” She thought a second and said, “Poor choice of words on my part. Sorry.”
They parade of gruesome beings, believing her to be no match for them and sure she would flee in terror, started to walk her way, arms reaching and dangling forward. They groaned and twisted their gray faces and mouths first one way, then another. Red fluid and clots drained from their distorted lips and jaws.
One dragged a leg and cried out in zombie pain.
Another pointed at Gramma and gurgled as if trying to tell her something.
Slowly, the unlikely undead snarled, dragged and staggered closer and closer to the elderly woman.
“Deadly,” Gramma said. “Pun intended.” She held her ground, not moving an inch. She was staring them down―if one could stare down a zombie.
Closer and closer they came.
The tallest one out in front, pulled what looked like a severed lower leg out of his jacket and began gnawing on the foot. He smacked his lips in glee at the taste of the flesh and took another bite. The bleeding body part was flung to the ground where it continued to drip blood onto some lovely plants for sale. He put his arms out in front and lurched forward.
“For zombies, you don’t know much about being a zombie,” Gramma said. “Zombies prefer to eat brains. Although you’ve been known to eat human corpses to stave off the terrible suffering you endure.”
No reply.
When they got to within four feet of Gramma, all three stopped. They looked at each other and didn’t step forward. One by one, they checked out their zombie mates then glanced back at Gramma.
She didn’t budge.
“You’re dead meat if you come any further,” Gramma said. Then she laughed and commented, “I really do crack myself up sometimes.”
The zombies were surprised at the nerve of this old woman blocking their path and talking smack. They looked at her for signs she’d cave in and make a run for it.
Gramma didn’t cave.
The zombies didn’t move.
Just before they could lunge forward, a loud compressed air bang was heard.
A white nylon fiber net shot through the air, propelled from a gun Andy was holding.
“Yay, Andy,” Gramma shouted. She
jumped up and down.
The net landed over the zombies. They struck out and tried to release themselves from the entanglement.
Andy had drawn it tight. He lashed it to the bumper of the flatbed truck.
The harder the fake dead trio pulled, the tighter it got.
Lots of cursing and yelling of threats came forth from the captured, supposedly ‘living dead.’ Some of their props and makeup began to fall off, revealing not genuine zombies, but zombie pretenders
Gramma and Andy observed their catch.
“Psychosis. Hypnosis. Bunko Hokus-Pocus,” Gramma said.
“What you said,” Andy answered.
“They don’t look so scary now, do they?” Gramma asked.
“Not so much.” Andy shook his head back and forth. “No, not at all. Kinda stupid-looking. I knew they weren’t real from the get-go, you know. Yep. I wasn’t fooled. Not me.”
One of the frightened girls, upon seeing the creatures captured, screamed through the fence at them. She looked closer and though she recognized the tallest would-be zombie.
“Is that you Jose? It is, isn’t it? I’ll get you for scaring us like that. You no good #%+!@#$.”
“I’m shocked. I’m stunned. Such language coming from a pretty, teen girl,” Gramma said. “Young lady, I know you’re upset these fellas tried to scare you, but we’ll have no more swearing from you.”
She quieted down. Her lips quivered.
There was wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from the net.
“And you zombie wannabes, hush, too,” Gramma said. “What can it mean for the future of our country with such bad language oozing from the mouths of you young folks? Oh, and you three smell really bad. You’re not wearing deodorant, are you? Hey, are you three related to Fernando?”
“What?” one of them said. “We smell bad? You see three zombies in a net and all you can say is we smell bad? And who’s Fernando?”
"Never mind about that loser. Here's some Gramma advice. You may want to give up the performance arts. You're obviously not gifted in it. Perhaps you may want to try anime. Yes, I can definitely see you three involved in anime."
"Career advice from a grandmother?" one of them said. "And what do you know about anime?"
"Think about it. Well, now I see I have three more teens to add to those I'll have to follow up on. You can join Mugger Mikey in my program for wayward teens. It's free. You'll like it. Your grandparents will be thrilled when you become law-abiding citizens, too."
Police sirens were heard in the background.
Back at Gramma’s House
“So the pretend zombies were scaring people and getting the bulk of the police across town to the garden center, while the zombie’s gang buddies were breaking into expensive homes in gated communities on the other side of town. They were stealing money and anything else worth taking,” Gramma said. “They kept Savage busy with some tasty meals and even managed to get away with some expensive plants while they were at it. Ted was a bit disappointed that Savage could be bought off like that.”
“It worked the first night and they were having fun with it. Figured they’d do it a couple more times until the police caught on to them,” Andy said. “They especially enjoyed the girls screaming in terror. They were having a blast while stealing everything they could.”
“They won’t be pulling anymore pranks like that for a while. Someone will be keeping a close eye on them,” Gramma said.
“How’d ya’ know they weren’t real zombies, Gramma?” Lola asked.
Gramma gave her ‘The Look.’
Chapter 14
The Amish Mafia
“Ten children,” Andy said. “Are you sure you heard them right? They have ten children?”
“Yep. These Amish parents, Philip and Sarah, are young enough so they could have more, you know,” Gramma said.
Andy had no reply to that.
“I first met their grandparents, Jacob Yoder and his wife Becky, about 40 or more years ago. They’ve had this farm in Union County since they moved here from Bird-in-Hand near Lancaster. Lovely people. Kindhearted. Philip contacted me about a problem he was having. Something’s happened to scare him and Sarah, and they want us to look into it. So here we are.”
“Where do we begin?”
“You’ll do some stakeout work and I’ll do my part. Jacob and Becky gave us the okay to do what we must do to solve their family’s problems. We start right now. You’ll be spending the night in Philip’s barn in case anyone turns up on their property without the Yoders’ permission. I’m going to the house to hear what happened from Philip and Sarah.”
“Why would anyone think they can harass this family?” Andy said. “What do they hope to gain?”
“What every harasser wants, Andy. Power. They think they can bully the Yoders, but they didn’t count on this family having connections. Bullies always try to push around those they believe are the weakest. That’s where we come in.”
Philip met Gramma at the door.
“It’s good to see you again. Come in, Gramma,” Philip said. “You remember my wife Sarah?”
“Yes, I remember both of you well. So glad to see you again, but sorry it’s under these circumstances,” Gramma said. “I want you to tell me exactly what’s been going on.”
“I’ll speak in English instead of the Dutch we normally speak around the house. I know you understand Pennsylvania Dutch, but it’ll flow better for you if I speak English.” He tapped his High German Bible. “I try to be a Godly person and live in peace with everyone, but this problem is making that difficult for me.” His hands were trembling. “My wife is pregnant and she doesn’t need this stress, either.”
Gramma congratulated Sarah on the coming baby. She sat at the Yoders’ table, sipping hot coffee with them while they shared their story of intimidation and threats against their family and property.
“This all started about a month ago when Billy Brady moved into the farm adjoining ours on the north side. Prior to that, no one had lived there for years. Billy and his friends drink a lot and cause damage to my property when they’re out in their big trucks. I think they’re using drugs on our property, too. They drive down our field along Buffalo Creek and cross through a shallow spot in the water, onto their property. It’s a short cut they use instead of going down their lane, which is longer.”
“Have they asked your permission to drive on your land?” Gramma asked.
“Het. Sorry. I mean, no. They’ve never come to the house for anything. The only time we see them is when they’re driving around on our property. When we’re outside working, we sometimes find them swimming in the creek which we don’t mind. It’s just they use our property to get to the swimming hole instead of getting there on their own land which borders the creek. After we’ve spent weeks plowing the fields and planting, they sometimes drive their big trucks in the fields, around and around in circles, spinning their wheels. It ruins all our hard work, not to mention the cost of the seeds and plants. Recently, they destroyed an acre of corn rows with their trucks.”
“That’s terrible,” Gramma said. “That’s a lot of work and expense, and then you have to go do it again. With your using horses and a plow and the short planting seasons in Pennsylvania, that can set you back.”
“Exactly. I knew you’d understand. That’s not the worst, though. Last Monday, I confronted them along the creek. They were spinning their wheels in the fields, then they set up a little camp and had a small fire going while they were swimming. I told them they were costing me time and money and I was worried about my children getting hurt. My little ones like to go to the creek for a swim, too. I’ve had to forbid them from it for fear Billy and his friends will do something to them.”
“Have they threatened you or your family, Philip?” Gramma asked.
“That last time I saw them and asked them not to come onto my land, Billy pulled a gun and threatened to shoot me. He threatened to shoot my cows and burn down my barn. I think he an
d his friends were doing drugs that day, because they looked wilder than usual. They called me a long-haired, uneducated weirdo.”
“Tell her what else happened, Philip,” Sarah said.
Philip turned his reddened face away. His hands started shaking.
“Philip. Tell her. She needs to know,” Sarah said. She turned her attention to Gramma. “It’s why he called you. They pushed him too far.”
“Take your time, Philip. When you’re ready, tell me what else they did,” Gramma said. She touched his arm and nodded her head.
After a couple minutes, Philip stopped shaking and relayed the ordeal.
“When I told them I would go to the police if they didn’t stop coming onto our property, Billy and his friends grabbed me. They tied me up and hooked the rope to the back of their truck bumper. After driving a few circles around the field with me being dragged behind in the muddy field, they got out of the truck and dumped beer on me. When they stopped and untied me, I was mud and beer from head to toe. And I had a few cuts, too, from some stone in the field.”
“Did you go to the police?” Gramma asked through clenched jaws. “This needs to be reported.”
“You know we don’t deal with the police much. We like to take care of things ourselves. We try to follow the laws, and we expect our neighbors to do the same. I went in peace to Billy more than once to try to settle this. So I did what I had to do. I told him I was sending John his way.”
“Who’s John?” Gramma asked, although she was sure she knew who he represented.
“He’s our county’s Amish mafia go-to. I don’t like to use them, but sometimes in cases like this, we have to. It might even mean we’d be shunned if we used their services.”
“I thought so. Did you contact John?”
“No. When I talked to my father and grandfather about this, they suggested I get in touch with you first. So here we are.”
“I’m glad you did that, Philip. I brought someone with me, and the two of us will see what we can do. My associate’s name is Andy. He’s set up in your barn now, keeping watch on what’s going on. I’ll get back to you when I have something to report. In the meantime, don’t approach Billy or any of his friends. We’ll do all the contacting.”
The Amazing Adventures of Gramma Page 11
