by Jack Wallen
“What’s going on?” Tuque asked.
“Oh shit,” replied Billy. “The swords all snapped off. You were too close to the wall. The truck is weaponless.”
Without another word, Tuque turned the truck away from the bar and brought it to a stop. He jumped out of the truck, pulled a rifle from behind the driver’s seat, took off toward the building.
“Tuque,” shouted Billy.
“Grab a weapon and shut up.”
Billy jumped out of the truck and turned to look behind the passenger seat. Secreted away from prying eyes was a sword in a scabbard. He pulled it from its casing to hear it sing a song of danger.
“Oh yeah. Let’s go do some damage.”
Billy raced to Tuque’s side, ignoring the questions coming from his fellow band mates under the tarp in the truck bed.
Before Billy could reach the first zombie, Tuque unleashed a storm of bullets. One by one the zombies did their best wacky pop dance to the ground to meet their undead death.
“Billy,” Tuque shouted over the sound of the gun shot. “Go inside and rescue Kitty. Bring her out and get her to the truck.”
The guitarist wasted no time and rushed to the entrance of Z-Pox. When he jerked at the handle, his shoulder almost dislocated.
“Shit.” Billy pounded on the door. “Open it up. It’s Billy. We’re here to save you.”
Nothing.
“Hurry,” Billy bellowed. “There’s not much time.”
The muffled sound of metal sliding against metal preceded one of the doors slowly cracking open. Billy forced the door open and stepped in.
Once inside, Billy found survivors tucked into the shadows of darkness. Bright and frightened eyes met his gaze. The tragedy of the moment hit the young man square across the jaw. Before the drama had its tendrils buried deep within his heart, Billy shouted…
“Everyone out, now!”
Not one soul need be told twice. A mad rush of men and women raced to the exit. Billy stood tall and searched for Kitty. She was nowhere to be found.
“Kitty,” Billy screamed.
No answer.
“Shit. Kitty,” again Billy screamed.
Again no answer.
Instead of continuing his call out, Billy rushed through the bar in a desperate search for his ward. He was met with innocent and tormented souls at every glance.
“Billy,” the familiar voice called out. Billy scanned the vicinity to no avail.
“Billy,” again the voice cried out, “over here.”
This time, Billy was able to locate the voice hiding behind a door. The door, however, was locked. Billy crashed his fist into the old wood of the door.
“Kitty, are you in there?”
“Yes,” came the reply. “Get us out of here.”
Billy stepped back.
“You guys better duck.” Billy shouted just before his foot came into contact and splintered the wood of the door.
A second kick was all the door needed to give up the ghost. Billy pulled at the broken wood until he could step through and into the once secluded room.
Kitty blindsided Billy in a rush of hug.
“Oh my God, Billy, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“We’re all here, Kitty. Time to take you back home.”
Billy turned, just in time to see a moaner reach out, grab his head, and smash it against a metal pipe that ran down the wall. Billy dropped like a sack of hammers.
In that moment, Kitty snapped. Without a single weapon available, she jumped to her feet, raced to the attacking zombie, and kicked its feet from under him. With the grace of a masterful dancer, Kitty spun on her heel and dropped her creeper-covered foot onto the skull of the monster. The crush and crack of bone made a sickening sound that was just barely audible over Kitty’s scream.
Over and over again, Kitty dropped the hammer of her foot down on the head of the moaner. When she was certain the zombie was dead, she grabbed Billy and gave his cheek a slap.
“Wake up.”
Nothing.
“Come on, Billy, you can’t do this to me. I need you here, alive.”
Slowly, Billy came back into the world of the living. The second his eyes cracked open, they went wide and he screamed.
“Kitty, look out!”
Another moaner grabbed Kitty’s hair and yanked her backward with a neck-snapping jerk. The zombie was on top of her before she could call for help. Cold, dead fingers wrapped around her head and slammed it to the ground.
Stars danced in the heavens.
“Kitty,” Mike Machine’s voice rang out.
Another slam.
Another round of dancing stars.
Before the next crushing blow threatened to open Kitty’s skull, she saw a single drumstick pierce the veil of the zombie’s eyeball into the rotten core of its brain. The sack of death dropped its full weight onto Kitty, smacking her head to the pavement to send her into a darkening spiral.
“Crap, what hit me?” Kitty sat up, her hands on her head.
Mike pointed down at the slurpy, pulpy mess on the floor with his drumstick protruding through the eye socket.
“Did you do that?” Kitty asked.
“Yes, Kitty, I did.”
“Mike, you rock.” Kitty stood on wobbly legs and draped an arm over Mike’s shoulder for support. Together they stepped through the bar. Just as they reached the exit, the sound of gunfire greeted them. Before they could duck and cover, a moaner dropped through the entrance and fell, motionless, to the floor.
A second zombie stepped into Z-Pox…only this one didn’t drop. Instead, the beast moaned and raised its arms toward Kitty, Mike, and Billy. Just as the moaner was about to take its first step forward, a shout rang out and the silver tip of a sword appeared through the left eye of the zombie. The undead sack of rot dropped to reveal Tom, a mile-wide grin on his face.
“Casket style,” Tom quipped.
Kitty moaned. “You really need to practice your one liners, Tom.”
Mike, Kitty, and Billy stepped into the Battlefield. The smell of blood and viscera permeated the air and threatened to yank bile and vomit from stomachs.
“How did you manage…”
Mike Machine jumped in to retell the tale of terror as the band climbed into the truck. Tuque waited at the entrance until Lyle made an appearance. The two men stood and chatted for a moment before Tuque returned to the vehicle but stopped short of getting in. His head turned to the left and right just before a sound battered the area.
“What’s that noise?” Kitty asked.
“Screamers,” replied Tuque. “We do not want to be here when they arrive. Mad bastards those.”
“Are we just going to leave all those people behind,” questioned Tom.
“Z-Pox has a secured basement for such purposes.”
“Well, why aren’t we staying?” Todd asked of Tuque.
“We’ll be safer at the Casket. Trust me.”
“What was that all about, Tuque…with Lyle?” Kitty asked.
Tuque shook his head. “Oh it was nothing. Just shoring up the details for the cleanup.”
Another wave of roars sounded from every direction.
“This is not going to be good,” whispered Tuque. He started the truck, slammed it into gear, and punched the gas. As the truck raced off toward The Last Casket, Tuque switched on the radio to drown out the sound of the monsters. To Kitty’s surprise, their song In The End was playing on Zombie Radio. Kitty cranked the volume up as loud as it would go and pounded on the roof.
“Hey guys…it’s us,” she shouted, “we’re on the radio.”
The trucked continued on, Kitty sang along with herself. Tuque offered up a nervous smile, his eyes searching out the blackness for the bogeyman.
thirteen | an epilogue of sorts
Sie werden sich aus den Gräbern erheben
Ja! Sie sterben um für immer zu leben
dass was sie treibt ist die Ewigkeit
so wie dein Blut<
br />
gib acht…
…Blutsauger
Back at the Last Casket, Tuque led the gang through a cellar entrance into the basement.
Billy the Bat looked around and turned to Tuque. “This thing looks like it was straight out of a fifties bomb-shelter video.”
“That’s the point. This baby can survive nearly anything. I have supplies that should last us a few days.”
The room filled with silence. It was Kitty that finally broke the spell.
“Tuque, are those screamers really so bad that we need to stow away in an underground hide out.”
No response was given.
“Tuque?” Kitty prodded. He finally turned to face the young woman; his eyes filled with concern.
“Yes, Kitty, they are that bad. I watched a group of those bastards rip through an entire town, eating and destroying everything in their path. Moaners…we can survive. Screamers? No way. Our only hope is to wait out their passing down here.”
“How will we know when they’re gone?” asked Todd.
Tuque didn’t answer. Instead he stood, walked over to a shelf, grabbed a small device, and turned a dial. The sound of Hell itself poured from the small speaker.
“Oh my God,” whispered Kitty.” What are they?
“Evolution gone horribly awry,” was Tuque’s cold answer.
“How long will we be down here?”
Tuque turned his attention to Mike Machine.
“Until they are gone. They’ll descend upon the area and search for food. When they find nothing, or they eat every piece of living flesh in site, they’ll move on. Until then, we stay put.”
The group fell into silence; the metallic roar continued to spill from the monitor.
“Hey,” Kitty’s voice jarred the group. “Where’s your lady?”
Tuque smiled. “I sent her off on a bit of a mission. Don’t worry, she’ll be back. She always comes back to the Last Casket.”
Everyone stared at Tuque.
He offered a wink.
Another roar spilled from the speaker.
“This seems like the end,” whispered Kitty.
“Oh no,” replied Tuque, “it’s just the beginning.”
Rock on.
The Last Casket
The Last Casket
Kiss & Hell
By Jack Wallen
Copyright © 2015
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.
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.
Edited by
Sara Marian
Beta Readers
Pheebz Jackson
Katie Wooten
Alina Maria Ionescu
Britta Victoria
Proof Readers
Karen Dziegiel
Pheebz Jackson
Giles Batchelor
All lyrics (minus the “Zombie King”) written (and copyrighted) by Kitty In A Casket and printed with permission.
The members of Kitty In A Casket appear in The Last Casket series with permission.
Once again I must raise a devil-horn salute to the members of Kitty In A Casket for making The Last Casket series possible. As a long-time fan of their music, it is truly an honor to be able to bring them to life on the printed page. This book was released simultaneously with KIAC’s album of the same name – Kiss & Hell. I highly recommend you buy and wear it out as you read words that follow.
With that said…let’s rock.
prologue | kiss kiss you’re dead
Kitty stared across the table, her cards held close. She whispered to Billy, hoping to trip his concentration, “It started out like a story ‘bout Wonderland. Any given moment, hell could rise from the darkness and threaten to take you down.”
Billy glared and said, “We are the cats and demons protecting and rocking The Last Casket.”
Kitty replied, her voice still a whisper. “We were bad-ass and cool enough to survive the nightmare.”
Billy continued, “Everyone loves Kitty In A Casket.”
“If not, they’d be shown the fucking door,” Kitty responded.
“I fold,” Billy said, his voice pure disappointment. He tossed his cards to the table. The members of Kitty in a Casket were long overdue for a break from performing at Touque’s bar and apocalyptic refuge, The Last Casket. It wasn’t always easy being the band to beat in the middle of a nightmare landscape.
Kitty squealed with delight. “Oh, hell yeah, Baby the Bat. You see this pile of candy bars? It’s all Kitty’s now. Meow. Come to mama, sweet treats.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on Billy’s forehead as the door to the bar crashed open.
Mike Machine stumbled in, his hands covering his mouth and blood spewing from between his fingers. He briefly removed his hands and cried out in agony.
“Holy shit, Mike!” Kitty bounded to his side. “What the hell happened?”
Mike removed his hands a second time. His lips were ruined, the meat clinging for dear life by a thread of flesh. When he spoke, his words were mangled, but intelligible.
“I kissed her. I thought she was just in costume for the show.”
“Who, Mike?” Tom demanded.
Mike cried out again. Another fountain of blood slipped the seal of his fingers. He stumbled with a moan. Kitty went to aid the drummer before Billy grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Don’t,” Billy whispered into Kitty’s ear.
Kitty jerked her arm away. “Can’t you see he’s…”
“A zombie!” Mike shouted. “I kissed a zombie! I thought we were playing a game of Kiss and…hell!” A gush of blood splashed from Mike’s mouth.
“Oh, fuck!” Todd Flash jumped onto the stage.
Kitty held up her hand and approached Mike. “It’s gonna be okay, Mike.”
“The fuck it is.” Mike’s voice trembled. “The bitch bit through my lips. That means one goddamn thing, Kitty…one goddamn thing!”
Kitty drew in closer, her steps and stance cautious. “What’s that, Mike?”
“I’m infected, that’s what!” Mike cried out in fear. “Son of a bitch.”
Billy stepped in and spoke with authority. “Dude, you gotta go. We can’t have you hanging out here, waiting for you to start rockin’ the zombie stomp.”
Mike hung his head in defeat and nodded. “I know, Billy. I know.” Mike took a step toward Billy before falling to his knees, screaming for mercy.
Tom scrambled for his stand-up bass and released the bat he’d mounted to the back side…just in case. The Louisville Slugger hummed a dangerous tune as he swung it before him. “Get the fuck out, Mike, or I’ll bash your pre-zombie skull in.”
“Christ, Tom,” Kitty spat. “Too soon.”
The band glared at Tom. He raised his hands and asked, “What?”
Mike cried out again; this time a guttural moan rose from the depth of his bowels. He grabbed his stomach and folded in half. “It hurts.”
Billy snatched the weapon from Tom and approached Mike, bat first. He knelt beside his friend and whispered in his ear. “Mike, you understand what’s happening?”
Mike hesitantly nodded.
Billy continued. “You know you’ve gotta go, right?”
Nothing.
“Don’t do this, Mike. You’re only making it harder on us all.”
Slowly, Mike acknowledged his understanding. He stood on shaking legs, cried out in pain, and approached the stage. Kitty, Tom, and Todd scrambled out of his way. He reached his drums and grabbed his sticks with tremblin
g hands. When he turned back to face the band, the blood on his face was streaked with tears.
Without another word, Mike stumbled out of The Last Casket, Kitty’s sobs his only soundtrack.
one | max van angst
666 Hours later
The screen flickered to life, black and white video dancing on the dingy white sheet strung across the back wall. The film? Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. Max Schreck stood in the doorway…an iconic pose that would fill the heart of any generation with dread. The actor glided across the screen as if carried by the wings of a million bats.
“This movie sucks,” Todd Flash shouted.
“What?” squealed Kitty. “This is history. You’re watching one of the first and greatest horror films ever made.”
“Are we watching the same movie, Kitty? Because what I’m seeing is a piece of melodramatic sludge.”
Pillows rained down from above. Todd snatched one and tossed it back at his attacker. “Throw the whole damn couch if you like, the film still sucks.”
Without warning, the lights sprang to life. Touque, the bar owner and the band’s ex-Canadian patron saint, stepped in front of the makeshift screen, his hands on his head. “How can you possibly have an ounce of disdain for this film? Nosferatu was so far ahead of its time…in every way.”
“Wrong.” Todd Flash stood, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Explain yourself,” Touque challenged.
“Although I agree the film’s visuals are freakin’ spectacular—given the time period, there is something fundamentally wrong with Murnau’s vision. Even with the nightmarish imagery, the effect is completely ruined by the cheesy music.”
Touque tossed his hands in the air.
“Hear me out, Touque-man,” Todd insisted. “Imagine that same film scored by, say, Giacchino or Christopher Young. That film would be hall of fame material.”
