I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Trinity stepped in. “I can take care of this.”

  We all stared. Trinity tossed disapproving glances around. “If you must know, before my time as a chef, I was a nurse.”

  “Damn,” Jay said, “I can see you now in white stockings and a mini skirt …”

  Dan punched Jay with his uninjured arm. “Shut up, horn dog.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Trinity punched Jay in the arm … hard. “But thank you, Dan.”

  I retrieved the first aid supplies and Trinity sat about dressing Dan’s wound. Sean and Burny left with Doug to retrieve weapons from the van.

  “So, Dan,” I sat at my desk. “Do you trust Doug to pull this off?”

  Dan winced as Trinity cleaned his wound with alcohol. “He’s our best shot ─ literally and figuratively.” Another wince. “Yeah, I trust him. If he can get line of site on whoever was trying to kill us, they’re good as dead.”

  I nodded. If Dan trusted Doug, there was no reason I shouldn’t.

  “Any chance we have some bullet proof vests?” Doug said as he entered the studio.

  “Dude,” Dan said, “the closest thing we’ve got to bullet proof is whiskey.”

  “I’ll take it,” replied Doug.

  I intervened. “Not if it’ll hinder your shot. Your aim needs to be dead on.”

  Dan nodded. “Man’s right, Dougy. Tell ya what, I’ll save you a bottle for when you return victorious.”

  Doug grinned. “Deal, my brother.”

  Sean returned with a rifle in one hand and a box of ammo in the other. “Here ya go, man. This is your best shot at long range. We’ve got thirteen bullets, so make sure your aim is true.”

  “It was when I went to town on your mom,” Doug joked. Sean shot a hand toward Doug’s crotch. He missed. Doug laughed.

  “Kids, kids,” Dan shouted. “Behave or there’ll be no Disneyworld.”

  Both Doug and Sean spun Dan’s way and flipped him off.

  “What exactly am I witnessing?” Trinity leaned into me and whispered.

  “Family. That’s the best I’ve got,” I replied. “Those guys have been together for over a decade. I’m guessing when they say brother they mean it.”

  Doug grabbed the rifle and the ammo. “Lock and load, old dirty bastards. The 40OzFist way!”

  The other band members shouted in approval. Doug started to leave the room. Before he reached the door, I stopped him and handed over a walkie talkie. “Take this. Keep us up to date.”

  Doug nodded and disappeared down the stairs. Everyone else exchanged worried glances. Not a word was said.

  Trinity broke the heavy silence. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Over the monitors, Queen’s “Another One Bites The Dust” played.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” shouted Dan. “Do you have some sort of connection with the future and enjoy dropping fatalistic irony bombs on those in the vicinity?”

  I raised my hands. “I swear it’s total chance. There’s no hidden meaning or prediction involved.”

  “So long as Justin Bieber or Cher don’t find their way into the queue,” joked Jay.

  Before anyone could so much as moan, the walkie talkie crackled to life with Doug’s voice. “The house behind yours is one story higher with a perfect vantage point. I’m about to go inside now.”

  I nodded. “Good choice, Doug. Get in and get to the roof as quickly and quietly as …”

  “Son of a bitch,” Doug interrupted. “The door’s locked.”

  The sound of cracking and splintering wood crossed the ether between walkie talkies. I started to protest, but Doug beat me to it. “I’m in.”

  We all collectively sighed.

  “The place is huge,” whispered Doug. “Checking the floors to make sure no one is here.”

  We held our breath, no one daring to utter a word for fear of missing out on Doug’s play by play.

  “I think it’s empty. Looking for roof access now.”

  I pressed the talk button. “Doug, the house has a window on the top floor that faces west. You should be able to get to the roof from there.”

  “Found it,” replied Doug. “Stepping out now. Holy shit, I can see the whole neighborhood from here.”

  Again, I pressed the talk button. “Doug, quick … how many zombies are we dealing with?”

  A minute or so passed ─ too long for my liking. “Doug, how many zombies?” I added.

  “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense, Doug?”

  “I,” he paused. “There’s not a damned zombie in sight.”

  That gave me pause. There were always zombies ─ always. I punched the talk button. “Doug, are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent sure, not a damned one. What does that mean?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Either it means 40OzFist scared the fuckers away, or this is the calm before a very bad undead storm.”

  “Okay, I’m in position. I have perfect line of sight to the entire row of houses facing the studio. If that bastard shows himself, he’s dead.”

  “Or herself,” Trinity added. We all glanced her way. “What? Who said it had to be a man? Equal opportunity douchebaggery here.”

  “I have an idea,” Dan whispered. He stood before anyone could stop him.

  “What the hell, Dan?” Burny hissed. “Suffering from that superhero complex again?”

  Dan shot a look to Burny. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Burnout. Trust me, okay?” Dan looked to me. “Slide me the walkie talkie.”

  I complied. Dan immediately spoke to Doug. “Dougy, I’m going to try to draw this guy out into the open. If you see anything don’t hesitate to open fire.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Dan,” replied Doug.

  Dan slid the walkie talkie back. He took in a deep breath and stood in the center of the shattered window. Before anyone could protest, Dan pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “All you undead mother fuckers wanna party? We all wanna party like it’s twenty ninety-nine, bitches!”

  A shot rang out. Dan winced, but not in pain. “Shit, that was close.” He ducked down below the window and turned to face us. “Bullet hit the wall about five inches from the window.”

  I punched the talk button on the radio. “Anything?”

  Doug was silent.

  “Doug,” I called out a second time. “Did you see anything?”

  “No,” Doug answered. “But I saw a small puff of smoke from one of the lower windows. If Dan can lure them into shooting one more time, I think I can nail their ass.”

  I tossed a sideways glance at Dan. He nodded and started the countdown from three. I relayed the count to Doug. “Three. Two. One.”

  Dan stood in the window and shouted. “How can you kill and call it freedom, you stake claim to the war on terror and your first strike is shock and awe. You work so hard to reduce our rights and you say you’re keeping us free, you bend the laws and spy on us, you look like the terrorist to me.”

  Another shot rang out, this time a puff of blood hit the air. Before Dan could hit the floor, a second shot sounded. This time, no bullet struck home.

  “Fuck,” Dan cried.

  Trinity was on him immediately. “Shit,” she turned to face me. “He’s hit. There’s no exit wound, which means the bullet is still in his shoulder. I have to get it out or he’s going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “Am I gonna fuckin’ die?” begged Dan.

  “No, ya big girl,” joked Trinity. “But you’re going to be in a hell of a lot of pain until I can dig that bullet from your beefy shoulder. It’s a good thing it didn’t hit your dome or the bullet would have ricocheted off and nailed one of us.”

  Dan struggled to laugh and then winced in pain.

  “What do you need?” I asked Trinity.

  “A full-blown medical kit,” she replied.

  The radio crackled to life. “I think I got the bastard.�
��

  I snatched up the walkie talkie. “How do you know?”

  “Well,” Doug paused. “He just fell through the window onto the ground. He’s not moving and there’s a gun on the ground in front of him. I’m coming home.”

  “Doug,” Dan nodded with a grin. “Told ya he was good.”

  Dan’s eyes blinked closed as he passed out from pain.

  twelve | the right call

  I sat and stared at the email – a missive from the she of shes, Bethany Nitshimi. It was short and sweet.

  Need Richard Gerand. Can you help?

  At first, the answer escaped me. I had a good idea where Gerand was. But what could I do? Cavalry wasn’t in my nature. I was voice and not much more.

  As I pondered the possibilities, Dan silently made his way into the studio and nodded my way. I returned the nod just as the idea hit me.

  40OzFist. They were young, tough, and could probably use something to pull their focus from boredom. Idle hands, as it were.

  I queued up a second song, pulled my headphones off and stood. Dan had already stepped into the recording studio and was busy digging through a pile of cables.

  “Dude,” Dan moaned, “I can’t find my fucking spare mic. I know I brought it in from the van.”

  The second his head turned my way, I took advantage of the moment.

  “I have a mission for you and the band. It could be really dangerous, but if you’re up for saving the world …”

  Dan hopped to his feet and crossed his arms over his beefy chest. “Danger is my middle name.” He laughed. “Actually, it’s not. And don’t ask me what my middle name is … I’d have to kill you.” Again he laughed. “I’m just fucking with you. What’s up?”

  I took in a deep breath and paused to question my motivation. Was I doing the right thing? Or was I taking the cowards way out. What followed would be monumental – convincing a group of young men to take on a mission that could easily end in a bad case of death. “There’s someone out there with the cure for the virus.”

  Before I could continue, Dan’s eyes drew wide and his mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding me?”

  I shook my head. “Not even remotely. His name is Richard Gerand. He has a past … a rather dubious one at that … but he swears he has something that would not only help prevent the virus from spreading, but could serve as a weapon against those monsters.”

  Dan stepped in close. “So, what do you need us for?”

  Now came the hard part. “I know where he is … sort of … and Bethany has reached out to me to help find him and bring him to her.”

  “So you want me and band to venture out there in the great disaster, find your needle in that haystack, and deliver it to the savior?”

  I nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  Silence. Dan and I stared at one another for a good thirty seconds. I finally broke in. “You don’t have …”

  “We’ll do it,” Dan interrupted.

  My hand shot up to his shoulder. “Seriously, you don’t have to. This could be a suicide mission.”

  Dan smiled. “Look, man, we love what you’ve got going and the fact that you’ve invited us in to be your in house rock stars. But hell, what does that say about us as human beings if we have an opportunity to save mankind and we play our Get Out Of Jail Free card to avoid pissing our pants in fear? That’s now what we’re about. You’re doing your part to help,” he paused, “now it’s our turn. You point us in the right direction and we’ll deliver the package.” Dan laughed and held up his devil horns. “That’s bad ass … like I’m part of some FBI crime show.”

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

  “Couldn’t possibly be more sure,” Dan replied. He turned and stepped towards the door. Before he walked out, he tossed a look over his shoulder. “I’ll let the guys know. You write down the information we need and we’ll head out.”

  Dan slipped into the stairwell. The chorus of Alice In Chains’ “The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here” punched me in the gut. The heavy guitar and kick drum made me question sending them into the heart of this very dark madness.

  *

  The van pulled away. From behind, Trinity’s arms snaked around my waist. “It’s the right call,” her voice tickled my ear. “They can handle this.” She spun me around. “Besides, the last people the Zero Day Collective will suspect would be a group of guys in a metal band. Right?”

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way.” I landed a kiss on her luscious lips. “Thank you.”

  My phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket to see a text from Dan. It read, New gig is gonna rock. We’d decided to communicate, through text messaging, as if the mission was just another concert in another state.

  I turned back to the window, punched my own devil horn into the air and whispered, “Rock on, 40OzFist, rock on.”

  thirteen | epilogue

  “You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio, your personal soundtrack … to the end of the world. That was Coal Chamber and “Loco”. Allow that little ditty to sink in. As the overwhelming urge to run your fingers through your hair is squelched by the straight jacket fashion you’ve donned for the apocalypse ─ you realize just how fucking crazy everything has become. That’s right, me loco, you loco … we loco, bitches. In the span of but a few hours I had front row tickets to a 40OzFist show, then I got to watch their singer get shot and guitarist go full on sniper and end the life of a terrorist. That’s almost laughable. Not, Dan getting shot or Doug taking a life, but the idea that terrorism still has a place in this world. How do you terrorize those already in terror? The only thing we have to live for now is life itself. We, the human creature, have been stripped down to the barest essentials. We stand naked before fate, ready to pull the trigger of a gun pointed in a random direction. No one knows who will live and who will die. But I can promise you this one thing, Zombie Radio Nation ─ my children, my darling dolls ─ I will be among the living so that I may serve as your guiding light to freedom. But lo, followers of the buttery voice of time and dimension, I am not alone. With me are the disciples of the new world order. Dan, Sean, Jay, Doug, Burney ─ 40OzFist. My metal prophets. And at my right hand, the deadly and delicious Trinity. Know this, Zero Day Collective, we are the way and the road to survival goes through us.”

  I paused to take Trinity’s hand. She gave a squeeze and leaned down to kiss my neck. I gazed through the window into the studio to see Dan and company ready to rip. I smiled and gave a nod. Dan tossed devil horns into the air and stuck out his tongue.

  “Ladies and gentlefunk of the Zombie Radio Nation, it is again my pleasure to bring to you the only metal band brave enough to stand against the apocalypse.”

  I held up my hand to Dan and started the silent countdown from three.

  “Turn this mother fucking broadcast up to eleven …”

  Two.

  “… and raise your forty ounce fists high …”

  One.

  “… for 40OzFist.”

  Go.

  As soon as the rush of metal pummeled the soundproof glass, I flipped the switch to feed the Obliterator loop to the external speakers. Trinity snatched up my spare headphones and placed them over her ears. She then stood in front of me and gyrated her hips to the rhythm of the song. She lowered herself down onto my lap, but continued her gyrations. Before I could get situated, her tongue was exploring the inner workings of my mouth. Everything around me disappeared. For that very second, there was only metal and lust.

  I was very much okay with that.

  The Last Casket

  By Jack Wallen

  Copyright 2014 by Jack Wallen

  PUBLISHED BY: AUTUMNAL PRESS

  This book is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise noted, names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously (unless otherwise noted). Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental (unless otherwise noted).

  All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without express permission from the author. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  A generous thank you to the members of the band and their representation for permission to include them in my vision of the apocalypse.

  To the members of Kitty in a Casket, I toss a rockin’ devil horn salute:

  Kitty Casket

  Billy the Bat

  Tom Mooner

  Todd Flash

  Mike Machine

  Your music helped rock my imagination to inspire yet another journey with the I Zombie series.

  To all my fans, I love you to death.

  Please help support Kitty in a Casket and other indie bands by purchasing their music and attending their amazing shows. As Shakespeare once said, “If music be the food of life, play on!”

  Edited, poked, preened, and cleaned by:

  Heather Rick

  Clarie C. Riley

  Thea Gregory

  Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?

  one | a hell of a show

  Everything has changed

  Standing here alone again

  It’s time for my revenge

  You put me in this casket

  But this won’t stop me

  You need to burn in hell

  No need to run away

  I will find you anyway

  …Bride of the Monster

  Wham! The crunch of the heavy Ibanez ARZ-Series guitar against the back of the zombie’s skull sent a screeching feedback through the Blackstar Club 50s speaker head. The sound momentarily stopped the undead bar fight.

  “Kitty,” Todd Flash shouted. “Run.”

  Kitty Casket was at the lip of the stage, surrounded by zombies, mic in hand and ready to crush any skull to get within striking range.