‘You reckon that’s a zombie motherfucker?’
‘Can’t quite see what it is. It’s shuffling along, covered head to toe in filth.’
‘I can’t see much either, just got a figure in my sight.’
‘Put it down. Looks like a corpse to me.’
The rifle cracked, the massive bolt sliding backwards, catching open on an empty chamber. The distant figure crumpled as the gunshot’s echo faded.
‘Need a fresh magazine.’
‘Okay. Here you go.’
The magazine clicked as it slid into place. ‘This sucks. Take me back to Baghdad right now.’
‘Reckon we’ll be out of here in a few hours. This place won’t last long. There’s too many of the motherfuckers, and they just won’t stay dead.’
The command centre was half empty. Only those with ‘need to know’ clearance were allowed to join the President of the United States as he viewed the real-time video footage.
‘Heck of a mess, isn’t it Brownie?’
‘Yes Sir. Maybe a hundred thousand were holed up in the city, twenty thousand of them in the Superdome. They’re all walking corpses now.’
The President turned to his Secretary of Defence. ‘What can we do, Donny?’
‘Nuke ’em?’ The bespectacled man laughed. ‘Only joking. We’ve got thermobaric bombs; that’s the best bet. Vaporise those sons of bitches in the streets, and burn anything that’s left.’
‘It needs to be kept top secret with a cordon around the place and the media kept at bay, at all costs.’ The President rubbed his chin. ‘We can blame it on Al Qaeda. Or maybe not, gas explosions might be better.’
‘We need to get one or two of those waking dead creatures alive though.’ The President smiled. ‘Oh dear, or whatever they are, alive or dead. Dead or alive, even.’ He laughed.
A uniformed man spoke up. ‘Mister President, we’ve sent out recon patrols. They’re still out there, searching block by block for any artefacts or isolated corpses. The creatures are throwing themselves at the Superdome for the time being. We’ve got another twelve hours or so before they overwhelm the place and we have to burn it.’
‘Keep ‘em at it. There must be something causing this.’ The President munched on a pretzel. ‘Whatever it is we could really use those in the War on Terror, in Afghanistan, in Iraq.’
He looked at the chaos on the screens, arms thrust in his suit jacket pockets. ‘Just think what they could do …’
THE END
ROCKETS’ RED GLARE
By
Bowie V Ibarra
Calavera City, Texas
Reloj Co.
“Little faggots popping fireworks for the Fourth of July tonight?”
Trevor and Todd’s sole purpose was to drink beer and make people feel miserable at Calavera City Community College. The five people they rolled up on were some of their favourite targets, both in and out of school.
“Don’t you guys have a douchebag meeting tonight or something?”
Geoff was always the first to respond of the five friends. He gave a high-five to his two buddies, Bruce and Lawrence, who were standing next to him when he uttered the response. They immediately began laughing. The laughter was just another way to get under Trevor and Todd’s skin.
“You’re just jealous because we can afford them, asshole,” said Belinda, joining the boys with a barb of her own. Heather, who was standing by Belinda, laughed along with the boys. She knuckle-bumped Belinda.
“You’re the only girl I know, Belinda,” said Todd, “that would settle for a little queer boyfriend like Bruce who doesn’t even have a car.”
“I’ll take personality over having a car any day, asshole,” she said, flipping him the middle finger.
“Why don’t we just go inside your house?” said Todd, indicating her home. “You can see how big my personality is.”
“Fuck off,” she replied as Trevor and Todd chuckled.
Two 5-tonne Army trucks pulled up behind Trevor’s Mustang GT. The bright lights of the first vehicle cut through the early evening. The driver honked.
With the arrogance of a true jerk, Trevor took a long and defiant swig of beer, before saying, “When you girls want to hang out with some real men, call us.” He revved the engine before peeling out in front of the group of friends. The white smoke of burnt rubber filled the air as the car shrieked like a Detroit-born banshee then sped away. With a grumbling clamour, the trucks drove on.
“I should’ve tossed a bottle-rocket in their car,” said Bruce.
“That would’ve been hilarious,” said Heather.
“Speaking of,” said Lawrence, “let’s send another salvo.” He handed four bottle-rockets to his friends and they immediately placed them in their bottles on the sidewalk.
“Try and delay the lighting,” suggested Belinda. “Let’s see if we can get them to pop in one-second intervals.”
“Hey babe, this isn’t the fireworks at the Tower of the Americas in San Antonio, now,” chuckled Bruce.
“Just do it. Ready?”
The friends had their punks lit and ready. “Go.”
They each waited for the person beside them to light their fuse before they lit theirs. As the last of the five friends lit theirs, the first rocket went off. Then the second, third, fourth, and finally the fifth rocket took flight. Like Belinda had planned, they whistled into the sky in a crude, yet coordinated, salvo. They burst in the sky in intervals, and the friends cheered.
“Respect the soldiers,” a voice behind them said. The friends turned around. They knew who it was. It was Mr. Fuentes, who had rolled up on his bike. Or, as students at Calavera City Community College knew him, he was Pete the Nutty Professor. “Respect the soldiers on the Fourth of July. They are with God now. They died so you could live here in freedom.”
“Guy’s nuttier than squirrel turds,” whispered Bruce.
“Leave him alone,” said Heather. “He’s just old.”
“And annoying,” said Geoff, lighting a small string of Black Cat fireworks. As the fuse lit, Geoff yelled out, “Hey, Nutty Professor, here’s to the soldiers!”
Before his friends could stop him, Geoff tossed the firecrackers at the old man. The old man gasped as the fireworks crackled on the ground around him. Cringing, he got back on his bike and rode away.
“Respect the soldiers, you little bastards. Respect the soldiers,” he said as he disappeared down the road.
It wasn’t quite like watching a guy in an old western dance around the ground as a villain was shooting at his feet, but it was still pretty funny.
As the others laughed, Heather snapped, “Geoff, that was mean.” She hit his arm, but struggled to contain a chuckle of her own.
“You thought it was funny,” said Geoff.
“It was funny,” said Bruce.
“He’s always talking religion,” said Bruce. “So, like my mom says, if he was mad at us, he should forgive us.”
“I forgive you,” said Belinda, walking up to her man. Her hands held in a pantomime of religious fervour, she added, “I forgive you.”
The five laughed again and dug out more fireworks to set off.
As the friends laughed, Trevor and Todd were plotting against them.
“Hey, check it out,” said Trevor, indicating Deputy Jacobs at the Whataburger. “It’s the Sheriff.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Todd said, lowering his beer. “If he sees us drinking, we’re done for.”
“Don’t worry, it’s Deputy Jacobs,” said Trevor. “He’s my brother-in-law remember. He owes me a favour, too.” Trevor finished his beer and threw the empty can into the back seat before driving to the restaurant. He pulled into the parking lot and pulled up right beside the deputy’s vehicle. “Watch,” said Trevor, stepping out of the car and walking to his lawman-in-law.
In the car, Deputy Jacobs was eating a triple-cheeseburger as Trevor knocked on the window. Diced onions and a dribble of sauce had fallen onto his distended belly, an
d the deputy made no effort to wipe them off as he rolled down the window.
“Trevor,” said the deputy, as he chewed. “What are you up to?”
“Well, brother, I just wanted to report some lawbreakers to you.”
The deputy stuffed several French fries into his mouth, before saying, “What do you got?” A gruesome blend of bread, melded with ketchup, fries and meat sloshed around his mouth as he spoke. Mustard oozed down his chin.
“There’s a group of kids popping fireworks just two blocks down. There’s a restriction on using fireworks in the city limits, right?”
“That’s right.” A small piece of lettuce dangled on his moustache.
As if on cue, a Roman candle lit up the sky, over where Trevor was indicating.
“Well, as you can see,” said Trevor, smiling and showing off his crooked teeth, “those kids are clearly flouting the law.”
Deputy Jacobs took another big bite of the burger and said, “I’ll be right over there, Trev. Thanks for the tip.”
“Anything for my brother,” said Trevor, giving a thumbs up.
The deputy cocked his eyebrow and added, “Have you been drinking?”
“Brother,” said Trevor, slyly. “I don’t drink and drive.”
Trevor returned to the Mustang and cracked open another Natural Light, toasting his in-law. Todd shrugged and returned the toast as they pulled out of the lot.
Deputy Jacobs finished off his burger and fries. He wasn’t in any hurry.
“Man, those were awesome,” said Bruce, craning his neck to stare up into the clear evening sky.
“We got the heavy duty Roman Candles,” said Heather, rummaging in the bag.
“And we haven’t even pulled out the mortars yet,” said Belinda, smiling.
“Ya’ll got mortars?” asked Geoff. “I want to light one of those suckers.”
“We have to finish with the mortars,” said Lawrence. “Always go with the big finish last.”
“True, true,” said Belinda. With a wink, she added, “Right, Bruce? Big finish?”
Bruce smiled. “Oh, yeah. Big finish.”
“You guys are so gross,” said Heather, laughing.
“Big explosion, right Bruce.”
Bruce blushed. “Oh, yeah.”
“You guys are nasty,” said Lawrence.
They set off another series of fireworks, ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘ahh-ing’ at each display.
Another car pulled up at the mouth of the street. At first, they ignored it. But when the overhead red and blue lights flashed, they realised who it was.
“We are just outside the city limits, aren’t we?” asked Geoff.
“Err, not quite,” said Belinda, cringing. “I think it’s the next block over.”
The police car was heading right for them.
“Quick,” said Belinda. “Into my house.”
The five friends grabbed the remaining fireworks and ran into Belinda’s house. They slammed the door as the car reached the house.
“My mom’s coming back soon, so we can’t stay here. Out the back,” said Belinda. They quickly followed her out the back door and into the back yard.
“What now?” asked Lawrence.
“Just follow me,” she said, walking through the back gate into an adjacent alley. Beside the alley was a crude barrier that they bypassed to head into a dry concrete waterway. They followed Belinda under a nearby bridge.
They waited expectantly, awaiting their pursuer.
“So,” said Heather, “what are we doing here?”
“Let’s give panzon a little time to lose interest, eh?” said Belinda. “Then let’s go to the cemetery and pop more fireworks.”
“Oh, no,” said Heather, shaking her head vehemently. “I hate that place! What with all those dead people.”
“They’re dead, Heather,” said Lawrence with a sigh. “They died in wars a long time ago.”
“In wars?” asked Heather.
“It’s the military cemetery, not the public one. They’re not going to bother us.”
“Dead soldiers tell no tales,” said Geoff with a chuckle. “I wonder if they still have their weapons.”
“Shut up,” said Belinda, rolling her eyes. “They don’t bury soldiers with their weapons.”
“I suppose a military cemetery would be the perfect place to shoot more fireworks, though,” conceded Heather.
“It’s outside the city limits, too,” said Bruce.
“Just let this marinate,” said Belinda. “We’ll head in and have some fun in just a few. Tubby shouldn’t be too long.”
The five friends spent the next few minutes talking about school and gossip, until Belinda decided that it was time to go.
By the time they set off out of the dry waterway, full darkness had set in. A half moon shone high in the night sky.
As they walked, Lawrence said, “Hey, did you guys hear the rumour that there’s a secret military base under the cemetery?”
“What?” said Geoff, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Lawrence continued. “The government sponsored renovations on the cemetery in the early ’80s. There was loads of tunnelling – they sealed off the whole area. It took like three years before the construction crews left.”
“It’s true,” said Bruce as the five entered the cemetery. “My dad told me about it once.”
“I heard there was a UFO base under it,” said Belinda.
“It was that they made them, not an actual base,” said Lawrence. “And I heard it, too. They might be hiding one.”
“Or two,” said Belinda.
They took the main road through the five acre cemetery. Hundreds of headstones were interspersed with groomed lawns and mature trees. They decided to head to the rear of the cemetery where they had less chance of being disturbed.
As the kids began setting up their fireworks, Trevor and Todd waited in their car a hundred yards from the entrance to the cemetery. When the coast was clear, snuck up to the iron gates and drew them closed.
“Gimme the chain,” said Trevor, snatching it from Todd. It was a simple bike security chain, but it would do the trick.
As Trevor locked it, they both sniggered.
“This is going to be great,” said Trevor, heading back to the car.
“Hell yeah,” said Todd. “I’m gonna make those little pricks beg.”
They returned to the Mustang and cracked open two more beers. They could see the fireworks in the distance, dazzling in the black sky.
The friends might have wildly speculated what was below them, and, although there were not UFOs under the cemetery, there was a government-sponsored biological weapons laboratory. No one knows what caused the explosion, but the consequences were devastating.
A deadly experimental bio-toxin filtered up through the ground, through coffins, and to their decaying inhabitants. There were hundreds of graves in the vicinity of the blast.
The ground had shuddered under the group’s feet. They all fell silent, glancing nervously at each other.
“Did you feel that?” asked Heather, hoping that it was just her imagination.
“Yeah,” said Geoff. “Like the ground moved, right?”
The others nodded in agreement and strained their ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary. The cemetery was bathed in silence.
“What do you think?” asked Lawrence to no one in particular.
“Earthquake?” Belinda suggested.
Heather laughed nervously. “Yeah, that’s it. Just a little tremor.”
Shrugging, Geoff said, “Forget it. Let’s get some more fireworks.”
Glad for the distraction, they continued with their firework display. As they set off another salvo, a new scent filled the air that wasn’t sulphurous.
“Who farted?” said Geoff, wafting a hand in front of his nose.
“I did,” said Bruce, chuckling.
“Cochino,” said Belinda, cringing.
Frowning, Heather said, “I smell it, too.”<
br />
“Whoever smelt it, dealt it,” laughed Geoff.
“Forget that,” said Belinda, lighting a Bouncing Betty. “Check this out.”
As the fuse sparked to life, she tossed it into the air. It blazed in a circle, gliding. The spark of the firecracker spun the firework in the air before gliding down to the ground where it exploded.
As it exploded another underground tremor rocked the cemetery.
Holding onto a tree, Geoff said, “Holy crap! What did you light?”
“Just a Bouncing Betty,” said Belinda, holding onto Bruce’s arm.
“Check it out, guys,” said Heather. “There’s, like, fumes coming out of the ground.”
As they looked on, delicate plumes of green gas danced into the air, swirling across the grass and between headstones.
“What … is that?” asked Heather.
Holiday of the Dead Page 22
