I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  I’ll take you by your hand

  I know what you think my friend

  With your hungry eyes

  Come closer to me

  But darling, as sweet you are

  Once you’re near you’ll never get far

  It’s over, now, with sticks and stones

  I’m gonna crush your bones

  Your blood on my hands

  Will you ever wake up again?

  Should I sing a lullaby?

  For our last goodbye

  The second the song was complete, Kitty kissed her mannequin partner and let it crash to the floor. She raced around the room and tagged each member of the band. As she touched them, they dropped their lifeless dolls, bowed to Kitty, and continued their dance to the exit.

  three | beer is food

  The truck pulled in close to the entrance and everyone quickly disembarked.

  “Why’s the sign not lit up?” asked Billy. “By my watch, it’s beer o’clock.”

  “You mean oh-drunk-thirty,” Tom added with a chuckle.

  Billy handed Tom a case of booze and shook his head. “Almost funny, Tom. Keep at it, though; maybe someday you can open our act with your witty repartee.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow at Billy. “You’re just fucking with me, right?”

  Billy laughed. “The powers of observation are keen in this one.”

  As the band made their way to the door, it swung open to reveal a beaming Touque. “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Looks like you’ve hit the motherload.”

  “This haul do us for Friday night?” asked Kitty.

  Touque took in the boxes one by one. After a growling harumph, he said, “Might have to water it down a bit, but I think it can be stretched enough.” He held the door as each member made their way back into The Last Casket.

  Once every box had been delivered, Touque started unboxing the bottles and addressed the band. “I have an idea. This chaos is eventually going to drain every bottle of booze on the planet. Should that occur, the riots will tear at the very foundation of humanity. With that in mind, I plan on going old school and brewing my own.” Touque offered up a healthy, toothy grin. “Even have a name for the stuff. What do you think of Kiss & Hell?”

  Kitty punched her fist in the air and squealed a hearty, “Hell yeah!”

  Billy nodded his head. “That, my friend, is a brilliant idea. Might even be worth a song.”

  “Or a whole album of songs,” added Todd before high-fiving Tom.

  Max looked to Touque and asked, “What method of distillation do you plan on using?”

  Touque rubbed his hands together with the slightest bit of menace. “The only one I need…a secret passed down from generation to generation in my family.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Billy added. “Sounds great to me. When do you start mixing this magic brew?”

  “That’s where the slightest bit of bad news comes in.”

  Everyone groaned. Bad news had become a part of everyday life in the apocalypse; even so, having to hear yet another piece of negativity was soul-crushing.

  “I’m going to need a couple of you to go out on another run…this time, with me.”

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Who’s up for it?” Touque asked.

  Billy and Todd both shot their hands into the air. Touque nodded to each and said, “No time like the present. Hit the can, load yer gut, and let’s roll.”

  Both men complied. Within minutes, they were piled into the truck and heading off on yet another supply run.

  “You know what you need, Touque?” asked Billy.

  “I do, I do. We’re looking to score a clean fifty gallon drum, some copper tubing, and a radiator from a car or truck…either one.”

  Billy chuckled. “And that list of junk will brew your magic ale?”

  “It will. It’s the same design as my dad used…which was the same as his dad worked with. It’s not fancy, but it brews like a champ. Just you wait there, Mr. Bat. In a day or two, you’ll be sipping Kiss & Hell like it’s mana from the gods.”

  Todd did his best air guitar before Billy slapped his hands down.

  “Dude, real guitarists don’t air guitar. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

  Todd shrugged off Billy and switched instruments.

  “Air bass?” Billy asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed anything so sad. Do I even know you, Flash?”

  “By the way, boys,” Touque started, “While we’re out, I need to make a quick pit stop to pick up some more meat. It’s been on my ‘dangerously low’ check list for some time now. I don’t think it’s something we should run out of. Agreed?”

  Both Billy and Todd nodded anxiously.

  “If it keeps us in burgers,” Billy said, “you could drive us across the country, and we wouldn’t mind.”

  “That it will,” Touque replied. “Do be aware that we’ll be heading directly into a part of town less than welcoming to new faces.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Billy chanted. “What exactly do you mean by less than welcoming?”

  “Hard to predict,” responded Touque.

  “Give it a go,” Billy insisted.

  “My last supplier, as you may remember, was another bar owner. He was partially responsible for the area being overrun by Screamers.”

  “We were there, remember?” asked Billy with a full-on snark.

  “I do, Mr. Bat. After that little incident, the whole lot of my suppliers have formed a pseudo-union…so any unfamiliar face is treated with extreme caution and distrust. You must earn that trust, and do so very quickly. These suppliers know and respect me. I cannot afford to let slip their trust.”

  “What are you saying, Touque?” Todd asked.

  Touque gave Billy and Todd a stare-down they’d never forget. “When we reach my supplier, the two of you will have to stow yourselves away.”

  Billy nodded. “Whatever you need, man.”

  With that, Touque punched the gas, and the old truck lurched forward. Billy reached out for the radio. Touque grabbed his hand. “You sure you wanna do that?”

  “Listen to some music? Of course I am.”

  “You know damn well it’s not always music that bounces those speakers on their framework.”

  “You mean commercials?” Todd asked.

  Touque shook his head slowly.

  “Then what?” Todd added.

  Billy ignored the warning, jerked his hand free, and powered on the radio. An all-too-familiar voice sounded off.

  You’re listening to WZMB, Zombie Radio; your personal sound…track, to the end of the world. That was The Devin Townsend Project and his massively epic prog rock anthem…“Kingdom”. Listen, my loverly ladies and gentlefreaks, we are all living in a kingdom of our own design. Whether that kingdom is within the mind or within the blanket fort you’ve constructed in your basement…there we dwell. Hopefully you’ve all surrounded yourselves with those sufferable lovelies that bring even the slightest bit of joy to the apocalypse. If not, my friends…you’re doing all of this wrong. Should that be the case, I highly recommend you making a fast exit from your current situation and seeking out those freaks which you can hang your hat on. Otherwise, you’ll lose your mind…that I promise. Of course, if you happen to be wondering if your DJ is advocating that people should bail on their current situation, simply because they cannot wave their freak flag hard and high enough to warrant the USDRA of funk…think again, my sweets. What I’m truly saying is that you’re all going to have to bite the bullet and get the fuck along. Otherwise, the meat of our souls is raw and we cannot hope to survive this punch to the throat. Don’t get me wrong, I want each and every one of you to stand up and shout to the heavens how proud you are that you’ve survived the nightmare and done so in pure freakish style. But for the moment, let’s all set aside our differences, grab a guitar, and play a rousing rendition of Koom by fucking yah. And no, Zombie Radio Nation, I do not plan on segueing into that ‘70s party favor of a song
. In fact, I’m going to play you a fun little romper stomper from the nineties by that quirk-pop band, They Might Be Giants. The song is called “How Can I Sing Like A Girl”. Let’s all dance like everyone’s watching and expecting something straight out of a William S. Burroughs novel. What does that mean? How in the hell should I know…just dance, my monkeys, just dance.

  The song shot out of the speakers with surprising force. Billy turned it up and thrashed about in the cab. Before Todd could join him, Touque turned off the radio and sucked the fun from the moment.

  Billy glared at Touque and shook his head. “Why do you hate joy, Touque?”

  “Because, at the moment, joy and life are mutually exclusive. Trust me, once this virus is cured, I’ll be joying it up and down the street like you boys have never before witnessed. I’ll spread so much glee it’ll probably make you sick.”

  Billy tossed a sidelong glance at Todd. “Did that just make you a little sick?”

  Todd responded with, “It made me die a bit inside.”

  The truck came to a slow halt. Touque nodded toward the windshield at a dilapidated shed of a building, mostly rust, weathered cement, and wire.

  Billy stared ahead. “What? I don’t see anything. Where’s the warehouse…or whatever is supposed to be holding all your supplies?”

  Touque continued staring. “I never said there was a warehouse. Nope…this is all we need. Besides, if what we need doesn’t exist inside that building, we can always disassemble the building for scrap and make what we need. Personally, I’d rather leave that for the pros…so let’s hope what we need is within those walls.”

  The three men exited the truck and slowly approached the cracked and broken entrance of the building. Touque raised his hand to stop Billy and Todd from approaching. From his boot, Touque withdrew a polished bowie knife; a glint of sun bounced off the shining steel as he raised it into an attack position. Touque reached out with his free hand and grabbed the doorknob. With a slow-motion turn, the latching mechanism clicked, and the door swung free on B-movie hinges.

  “Shit, Touque,” Billy whispered. “That fucking door’ll wake the dead.”

  Touque turned to Billy, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “No more than your voice. Keep it quiet, will ya?”

  Billy nodded and, without warning, punched Todd in the shoulder.

  “What the fuck, Billy?” Todd said, his voice above and beyond a whisper.

  Touque shot a glare Todd’s way.

  “Sorry,” Todd whispered.

  Touque unclipped a flashlight from his belt and shot its beam into the darkness ahead. The blueish-white light caught a wall of dust to bring life to the blackened depths of the unknown. “Watch your step, boys.”

  As one, the three men entered the building, the fall of each boot dampened by a carpeted floor. Touque’s light sliced through the room to reveal a hoarder’s paradise.

  “Son of a bitch,” Billy whispered. “It’s like Fred Sanford’s junk yard in here.”

  “You big dummy.” Todd suppressed a giggle.

  “Focus,” Touque hissed. “The longer we’re stuck in here, the more dangerous it’ll be. We need to get in and out like ninjas.”

  “Dude, you should have told us to bring lights. It’d have made this dumpster dive a hell of a lot easier.”

  “Always prepared,” Todd whispered as he brought to life an LED beam of his own. He sent the light cutting through the shimmering, dusty darkness.

  “Good,” Touque said curtly. “You two head off and find us some copper tubing. I’ll dig up a barrel. If you happen to see anything else that might do us some good, grab it.” Before Touque headed off on his own, he turned to Billy and Todd. “Be discriminating. We cannot drag every useful scrap of junk we see out of here.”

  Billy and Todd nodded in agreement before disappearing into the void.

  “Sometimes Touque creeps me out more than the damn zombies,” Todd whispered.

  “He’s harmless, dude. Besides, without him, we’d be out on the streets,” Billy replied. “Hey, shine the light over there.”

  “Over where, douche? I can’t see where you’re pointing.”

  Billy grabbed Todd’s arm and aimed it at two o’clock. “There.”

  “What is it?” asked Todd.

  Together, they inched their way toward the target.

  Todd moaned. “An old pressboard guitar case? We’re trying to find shit we can use, Billy.”

  “You never know what could be in that thing,” replied Billy.

  “Probably an old, crusty, dime-store six-string with a single pickup and plastic tuning knobs.”

  Billy snapped his fingers for Todd to shine the light square on the case. He unclipped the latches and, after drawing in a deep breath, flipped the lid open.

  The light bounced off the satin cherry sunburst finish within. Etched on the headstock, in an all-too-familiar font, was the word Gibson. Between the tuning pegs read Les Paul.

  “T-todd,” Billy stumbled over the name. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Todd leaned in to inspect the instrument…afraid to touch it. “Goddamn it, Billy…it is.”

  “Nineteen fifty-nine Gibson Les Paul. Solid Indian rosewood fingerboard, custom Bucker pickups, maple and mahogany body and neck…this thing is worth, what, twelve grand?”

  With shaky hands, Billy reached out toward the guitar. When his fingers touched the neck, a stuttered breath slipped past his lips. “I can’t believe I’m about to hold one of the most coveted guitars in history.” Billy lifted the instrument from the case and ceremoniously held the guitar before him. “Excalibur! She is mine. I’ve had wet dreams about this baby, and it took the damned apocalypse for it to come true.” Cautiously, Billy returned the guitar to its case, snapped it shut, and snatched it from its resting place. “I can die a happy man.”

  “You suck, Bat,” Todd hissed.

  “I saw it first, brother. Rules of the road.”

  “You still suck.”

  “Although that may be true, I’ll do so while playing a vintage, no…the vintage…Les Paul.”

  “Dibs on next,” Todd said succinctly, and continued on, shining his beam across the spans of the room. “What are we supposed to be looking for?”

  “Copper tubing,” replied Billy.

  “And where are we supposed to find…” Todd’s LED beam swept the walls and then glanced off the ceiling. “Hello nurse,” Todd chimed. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Todd’s light shone on a long run of copper-colored tubing.

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would there be a sprinkler system in this trash dump?” asked Billy.

  “Because at one time…” Touque’s voice rose out of nowhere. Todd squealed in horror and swung his free hand out in a right hook. His meaty fist careened just shy of Touque’s jaw.

  “Shit. Sorry,” Todd said, nervously. “You were saying?”

  Touque shook his head. “You can’t let your nerves get the best of you, young man. Had that flashlight been a gun, I’d probably be bleeding out about now.” Touque turned his beam up to the pipes running along the ceiling. “At one time, this was a recording studio. You’ll probably find…” Touque caught sight of case in Billy’s hand. “I see you already have.”

  Billy grinned and nodded.

  “I knew the previous owner of that guitar. He passed out a few times at the Casket. Always tipped well, but never said a whole hell of a lot. When you’re as skilled an artist as he was, words are practically irrelevant.” Touque fell silent, as if lost in a memory. With a shake of his head, he returned from his reverie. “As I was saying…this building housed a lot of expensive equipment, so it needed sprinklers. Understand, that was way before the days of halon gas systems that could extinguish flames without dousing electronics with water.” Touque reached up and tugged at one of the lines. “Good catch. I’ve got just the tool to break enough of this pipe free. I’ll be right back.”

  Touque turned to leave.

  “Where you
going?” demanded Todd, his voice quivering with nerves.

  “To the truck,” Touque called out over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a second…don’t soil your panties, Mr. Flash.”

  Billy patted Todd on the back. “You’ve gotta stop setting yourself up like that, man. He’ll burn you every time.”

  “Dammit. I thought Canadians were polite to a fault.” Todd pouted.

  “Shine your light over…” Billy stopped himself short, grabbed Todd’s arm, and pointed it to the wall on the other side of the room, “…there.”

  The beam bounced off a large window.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Todd asked.

  Billy shoved his way past Todd and practically threw himself up against the glass wall. “Holy shit, Flash. Touque was right, this was a studio…and a damn fine one at that.”

  Todd made his way to Billy’s side and shined the light into the control room. “Jesus jams,” Todd hissed. “That’s a fucking Solid State Logic XL. Old-school sound with modern-day logic. Why is that baby wasting away in here?”

  “Right, then,” Touque’s voice interrupted the moment. “Could one of you help me over here?”

  The two men glared at one another until Billy sucked it up and turned from the control room window with a pout and sulk.

  “Whatcha need, T-man?”

  “First, I need you to never call me that again. I find it disrespectful to my name and an overstatement of the obvious.”

  Billy nodded.

  “Second, I need you to stand here and grab hold of this pipe. When I cut the other end, I don’t want it clattering to the ground and calling the undead scourge our way.”

  Billy reached above his head and managed to comfortably wrap his fingers around the pipe Touque was about to cut.

  “Here we go,” Touque warned Billy.

  The jaws of the tool bit through the copper pipe. Billy misjudged the weight of the pipe, and the free end dropped like a fifty-pound kettle-bell. The crash-down echoed through the building with angry intent.

  “Son of a bitch,” Touque hissed. “That’s going to set us back a bit.”

  “What do we do?” Billy asked.

  Todd’s light bounced through the darkness until he was standing next to Touque. “You idiots just rang the damn dinner bell. We better haul ass.”