by Jack Wallen
When Trinity pulled back, her eyes remained closed and her breath held. In that fragment of time, nothing could possibly be any lovelier. It was, in a word, perfect … she was perfect. All thoughts of conspiracy drained away.
“Shall we?” she asked.
I nodded and slipped out of the studio.
The band was busy at the dining room table playing cards. When I appeared, everyone nodded and grinned.
“Ready to rock?” I asked.
Fists and horns flew into the air.
“Fuck yeah,” shouted Sean.
Burny smacked Sean on the back of the head. “You want those bastards knocking on our door like Jehovah’s Witnesses?”
Sean shook his head. Everyone had a laugh.
Dan stood and dropped his meaty hand onto my shoulder. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
I nodded. “All I have to do is hold my finger on the garage door button when you get back. I think I can manage that.”
Dan clapped his hands together. “Alright dudes, let’s get our shit.”
The band jumped up and filed to the front door. Before the door opened, I grabbed Dan by the arm. “Do you have a working cell phone?” He nodded and pulled it from his front pocket. “What’s the number?” After Dan rattled off his digits, I sent him a text to make sure he had mine. “Text me when you get to the bar, so I know you’re okay. When you’re a block away from the house, text me again and I’ll get the door open.”
Dan nodded and gave the signal to Doug, who stood at the door to head out.
I closed the door behind them and turned back to see Trinity smiling at me.
“What? Were you staring at my ass?” I tried not to blush at the thought of a woman undressing me with her eyes.
“We have the place to ourselves,” Trinity whispered.
The impulses that raced from my brain to my groin burned like molten lava through my system. This woman was a major distraction from the master plan.
But what a distraction she was.
I sucked in a deep breath and said something I thought I’d never say.
“As much as I’d like to re-invent pornography with you at the moment, I need to be ready for those guys.”
Trinity laughed and shimmied her way to me. She leaned in until her breasts pressed against my chest. “You’re one of the good ones, you know that? But fear not, I will have you. One way or another, you will be mine.”
She turned and did her best sex-walk away.
I melted ─ this time from the neck down.
From outside, I heard the sound of the van pulling out of the driveway. The plan was going down. Sometime in the near future, we’d be setting up musical instruments in the studio and pumping live metal to the Zombie Radio Nation.
My nipples grew hard at the thought.
“I’m going to …” I started. My brain was stuck on Trinity’s last words. I had to fight through the muck and mire of lust to regain the thread of thought. “… get back to my studio and have a chat with the nation. Can you stand guard at the window, in case the band returns without calling? I’d hate to leave them hanging.”
Trinity ran her hands through her short, black hair. “You mean like you left me?”
“Ouch,” I hissed. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
Trinity blew me a kiss. “If that’s what you’re into.”
I turned and marched up the stairs before things spiraled into a convulsive mass of hormone twister.
five | battle and war
The Birthday Massacre’s “The Other Side” threatened to force me into a staring contest with my shoes. It was a hard fought battle, but, in the end, I lost. Barely. The song crashed into the dark ether, I took in a deep breath, and made the sweet sexy to Lyndi.
“You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio, your personal soundtrack to the end of the world. My darling darklings, that was everyone’s favorite little goth sister, Chibi, and her band of awesomenauts, The Birthday Massacre. Outside of Bethany Nitshimi, I think Chibi would be my next choice of bride to be. Chibi, if you’re listening out there, please make your way into my life and sing me to sleep every night.”
My whole body sighed. From toes to lips, I shuddered. Before libido and ego crashed and burned, I continued. “Are you out there people? Are. You. Alive? I need to hear from you … need to know there is still a reason for me to continue standing proud on my soap box of love. Besides, the ego of a DJ is inversely parallel to his looks. Wait … did I just insult myself? I believe I did. The question of the moment? Does the Zombie Radio DJ have a face for radio? When I undertake my whirlwind world tour, you will all find out if this DJ missed out on his career as a Hollywood heartthrob, or if a life behind a mic was the right choice. Ah, here we go ─ proof that the living do still exist. I have been sent a missive. Dare I read this secretive memo, from a most top secret agent in the war of love? Oh, my dear Zombie Radio Nation, how could I starve you of your very own words? I cannot, that is how. The letter reads: Dear DJ. You speak of love and of the post-apocalyptic crush you have on the she of shes, Bethany Nitshimi. But did you know there are those of us in your great nation who crush so badly on you we weep that the horde forever prevents us from being in your presence. I listen to your buttery warm voice every night as I drift off to sleep ─ not knowing if I will even wake to see another day. DJ, will you please play “crushcrushcrush” by Paramore for me and dedicate it to yourself? You’ve saved me and so many others. There will never be enough time or words to properly thank you. With every ounce of love I have, Danielle.”
A smile graced my lips like I haven’t felt in a while. The moment felt torn from the pages of my high school yearbook, when I had soft, puppy dog eyes for a blond bombshell of a girl. To this day I could remember the kiss of her soft, perfectly shaped lips. The moment she pulled me on top of her reshaped and redefined my youth.
I had no choice. This could be one of those oddly defining moments ─ not just for me, but for Danielle. If my accepting her crushy overtures was the difference in her surviving or not ─ then damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.
I spoke gently. “Danielle, I cannot begin to tell how deeply touched I am. I will not only play your song but I send a kiss and a wish out to you that we may, one day, meet. When we do, Danielle, it will be a glorious collision of awesome when our hearts and lips meet. Here it is, Danielle, “crushcrushcrush” by Paramore.”
As the first notes of the song rang out, my phone buzzed. A single text read Loading gear now. I opted not to take any chances and queued up as many crush-worthy songs as I had available. The playlist should buy me plenty of time to bring the boys home.
I stepped out of the studio to see Trinity seated near the door. She smiled up at me. There was something strangely innocent about her stare ─ as if fear forced a regression to childhood. When she stood, the innocence melted away and was replaced by pure, unfettered sexuality.
“I could listen to you recite the phonebook,” she said.
I laughed.
She replied, “No, seriously. I’m not trying to get you into bed.”
Another laugh.
“Okay, maybe I am trying to get you into bed. Can you blame me?”
My overly inflated ego was about to get the best of me. Before I could open my mouth and ruin the moment, I leaned forward, kissed Trinity on the cheek, and marched downward.
“Did you just cock block me with a friend kiss?” she asked.
I opted to stay silent.
“Oh, you’re good. Are you sure you’re not a woman; because you just played that like a master of the double-x chromosome.”
Still, I rode the song of silence.
“Are you gay?” she asked.
“If I were, you’d still be my type,” I offered.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Trinity replied.
I reached the front door and pulled a curtain aside. “Son of a bitch,” I hissed.
“What?”
“There’s a fucking
gang of zombies out there.”
Trinity joined me at the door and glanced through the opposite window.
“They look like hipsters.” Trinity looked my way. “I fucking hate hipsters.”
“Regardless of their tragic choice of social classification, they can’t be here when the band returns. We open that garage door and those ironic douchetwats could amble inside.”
Trinity grinned wide and maniacal. “Then it’s time to take up arms and go to battle.”
“You up for it?” I asked.
“DJ, I”m always up for a good fight.”
“That makes one of us,” I replied.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe inside.”
I started to protest, she silenced me with her hand. “Sorry, DJ. What you do is way too important to risk your life. The world needs you ─ not me.”
“Sorry, but I’m not ─”
Trinity slapped her hand over my mouth. “If you say one damn thing about me being a woman, I’ll beat you down so fast, you’ll feel like a tampon that was shoved up your ass.”
I peeled her fingers back. “What I was going to say was that I won’t sit back while a friend risks their life. If one of us goes out there, we both go out there.”
She stared at me for a long while and finally nodded. “I’m okay with that. You’ve got more balls than I expected.”
Trinity grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. As we kissed, she sucked the air from my lungs. For a brief second, I was certain panic would whisk me away. She took in another breath, only this time breathing through me. Our lungs gave and received, as if the organs themselves were making love.
She pulled away and smiled. “Let’s go kick some zombie ass.”
She ran into the kitchen and returned with a pair of knives. When she handed me a cleaver, I shook my head.
“You’re kidding, right?” I handed the knife back and went to the entryway closet. When the door opened, her eyes nearly shot out of their sockets.
“Shit. You’ve been holding out on me.” Trinity sidled up to the entryway and peered inside. “I’ll take the bow. You won’t believe how accurate I am with one.”
I handed her my best compound and a quiver of arrows. For myself, I grabbed a four foot metal pike. Guns were always the last option and knives required too little distance for my taste. Before I turned to exit the closet, I donned a pair of goggles and a breather.
“Seriously?” Trinity asked. “Going ϋber apocalyptic on me are you?”
I pointed to the goggles. “Back splash. I take no chances.”
We exited the house. I pulled the door closed silently.
In the street, five moaners swayed to some unheard rhythm. Trinity crept across the yard, shouldered the bow, and climbed the nearest tree. I watched her knock an arrow, draw the bow back, and unleash hatred on one of the moaners. The zombie dropped. When the corpse hit the cement, its head opened and unleashed a rain of gore.
The remaining zombies continued their undead slow dance. Trinity readied another arrow … and slipped from her perch. She landed on the ground with enough noise to draw the attention of the remaining moaners.
It was my turn to leap into action. I raced toward the undead bastards at full speed. Just before striking distance, I lowered the pike and sent the pointy end through the skull of the nearest of the walking dead.
The celebration of my kill was cut short because physics hates me. The moaner dropped with the spike still piercing its skull. The momentum of the fall took me down. I couldn’t get enough leverage to remove the pike before the downed zombie’s friends converged on me.
“Fuck!” I shouted as one of the bastards lowered its clacking maw toward my face. Just as it was about to clamp down on my forehead, it was sent back to the grave by a single arrow through the temples. It rolled off, just before a dollop of thick, brown blood slopped from the pointy end of the arrow. I rolled back to standing and pulled the pike from the skull of the downed moaner with a loud slurp. I spun around, the pike singing a deadly song above my head, and readied myself for attack.
I drew back to send the business end of the metal pole through another skull. At the same time I sent the pike home, an arrow narrowly missed the bastard, zipping past my own head.
“Shit, girl, these bastards don’t need your help killing me,” I shouted.
“Sorry,” Trinity replied.
I quickly removed the pike from the zombie’s throat and called out, “Kill the last bastard and we’ll be square.”
My phone buzzed. I snatched it from my pocket and glanced down at the text. “Shit, they’re a block away. I have to open the garage door.”
Trinity knocked an arrow. “I got this.”
I raced back to the house and dashed to the garage. I fingered the button and the door growled to life. Trinity appeared in the opening, bow in hand and a smile on her face.
“That felt good,” Trinity bragged.
“I suppose,” I replied. “It certainly felt good to survive.”
Trinity sauntered into the garage. “You mean it didn’t make you want me even more than you already do?”
Before I could answer, the van pulled into the drive. Trinity made her way into the house. I waited for the van to enter and lowered the door behind it. In celebration, I tossed up dual devil horns toward the van. Dan stepped out with a rock and roll grin spread across his face.
“Mission accomplished, mother fucker,” he shouted and returned the metal-fueled gesture. The rest of the band exited the van and immediately began unloading the gear.
“Lead the way, DJ,” insisted Doug.
I led the band up to the adjacent studio and gave them space. Trinity and I watched the setup from the Zombie Radio control room.
“Dude, you kicked ass out there,” Trinity whispered in my ear.
“All in the name of survival,” I replied.
What I didn’t happen to mention was my veins still ran cold with fear. It didn’t matter how many times I went to battle, I wasn’t cut out for war.
six | scripted reality
The band was ready. I was ready. The world was ready to rock.
Or so I assumed.
My assumption was based solely on the pretension that the soundtrack of the apocalypse was made of metal. What other type of music could power the end of the world?
The sound check was perfect. The band lived up to their name ─ like a leaden hammer ready to punch evil in the chest.
It was time to introduce the world to 40OzFist. With headphones securely in place, I offered a thumbs-up to the band, and leaned into my mic. I drew in a breath of fresh air and let the silky madness dance from my lips.
“You’re listening to … everyone, say it with me … WZMB, Zombie Radio, your personal soundtrack, to the end of the world. Ah yes, my lovelies, was it good for you? It was so fucking good for me, I think I’ll have another.” I sighed and paused. “Do we need a smoke break after Avatar’s “Let It Burn”? Or should we just lube up for another round? I say it’s time for something very, very, very special. Ladies and gentlepants, I am proud to bring you a Zombie Radio exclusive. That’s right, my boils and goils, I have the pleasure of introducing a band so metal, they might melt the very fabric of time and space before all is said and done. Everyone, raise your devil horns high, but don’t turn it up to eleven ─ unless you know, with absolute certainty, that the zombie horde is well out of hearing range.”
I held my hand up high so Dan could see me count down from five.
“Straight from Milwaukee, Wisconsin …”
Four.
Give it up for … “
Three.
“40 … ”
Two.
“Ounce … ”
One.
“Fist.”
The band launched into “Scripted Reality”. The song was loud and proud and had both Trinity and I banging our heads as if the outside world simply had vanished. In that moment, there was no Zero Day Collective, no z
ombies, no grey ash … there was only glorious music.
I glanced over to Trinity. The grin on her face was a masterwork of joy and beauty. She paused her head banging, blew me a kiss, and picked up where she left off.
I checked out the Zombie Radio Twitter feed to see various incarnations of devil horns fly by.
The nation was loving the Fist.
Trinity reached over and intertwined our fingers. She looked at me, glanced down at our locked hands, and asked, “Too much?”
I shook my head and said, “Not enough.”
Trinity grinned wide and slowly nodded.
My subtext landed softly.
The song ended and I went back to Lyndi, took in a deep breath, and spoke.
“Zombie Radio Nation, you and I … we just made beautiful history together. Mark this day on the now-defunct calendars as the day the human race collectively punched a mighty fist high to rise against the machine of Zero Day hate. Are you with me? Come on, people, you know that crunching, grinding sound makes you want to …”
I paused to toss a glance toward Trinity.
“… grab whoever is next to you and make hot monkey love.”
Trinity placed her hand on my thigh and slowly inched it upwards, toward my crotch. The second her hand touched down on my business, my voice shot up a few notes. Her laughter clearly registered on my mic.
“Yes, my lovelies, that was the laughter of a woman. In fact, it might well be the woman that will benefit most from my hearing 40OzFist live. But let’s not discuss the possibility of DJ coitus.”
Laughter filled the room. It took me a moment before I realized what caused Trinity’s outbreak.
“That’s right, dear listeners, you’re listening to DJ Coitus.” I pulled back from the mic to laugh. “And with that, my darling dears, I am going to drop another spank-worthy tune on you. What does “Animal” by Nine Inch Nails do to you? Does it make you want to fuck me like an animal? Do you want to feel me from the inside? You may thank me later.”
I sent the song into the ether and cranked the monitors in the studio. Before I turned to Trinity, I queued up a good amount of sex-fueled songs to help the nation get their groove on.
