I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Todd offered no argument and steadied his blade. The nearby Moaner stumbled forward, danced itself off-balance, and fell into Todd’s knife. The commercial-grade cutlery sliced through the beast’s neck with a pop and a hiss. As the point of the blade reached the other side of the neck, it hit bone and stopped. Todd stomped his booted foot heavily on the ground and forced his weight forward hard enough to break through the vertebrae and sever the spinal column. The Moaner instantly went slack and slipped off of Tom’s knife into a skin sack-heap on the ground.

  “That was too fucking easy,” Billy said.

  “You’re bitching about a win, Billy?” Max questioned.

  “Nah. I was just hoping to get some serious cardio on.”

  “This isn’t a damn game, Bat. This is life, and we’re lucky to be surviving day to day.” Max’s voice rose a notch above anxious.

  Billy lowered his bat level with Max’s accusatory stare. “Dude, you seriously need to relax. I get the name and all, but we’ve gotta make the best of this situation, or the situation will make the best of us.”

  Max drew in uncomfortably close to Billy. “The last band I played in, the frontman was just as cocky as you. He thought himself invincible. I had to watch him being eaten alive by a gang of Moaners. I’d hate to see the same fate befall such a talented guitarist as yourself. Besides, I’ve seen how you and Kitty make with the goo goo. Losing you might send her into an irrevocable downward spiral.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes and stared into the dark pools of Max’s pupils. When he finally spoke, his voice was deeper and calmer than usual. “Thanks. I needed that reminder of what’s really at stake here.”

  Max tilted his head. “I don’t understand. Are you going full snark and ready to crack me in the jaw?”

  Billy shot his hand toward Max. “Nah, man. I’m being totally honest. Thank you.”

  Max reluctantly accepted Billy’s hand and was surprised when he wasn’t blindsided by a bone-shaking sucker-punch.

  Todd interrupted the broment. “You guys wanna get a room inside the Casket?”

  Without giving Todd so much as a glance, Billy flipped him off and then disappeared into the bar. He wound his way back to the kitchen to see Touque standing at the industrial stove. Kitty and Tom leaned against a nearby table, watching the man work. From behind, Billy heard the exit door close.

  “I take it a celebratory burger is needed?” asked Touque.

  “Make that two,” replied Billy.

  “Three,” added Todd.

  “Five,” Max chimed in. Everyone glanced his way. “What? I have a high metabolism. Besides, I’m a drummer…I expend enormous amounts of energy while you guys stand in front of me and take all the glory.”

  Everyone laughed…Tom laughing loudest.

  “You ever play a fucking stand-up bass? The levels of energy I use up during a show eats your lame excuse for cardio any day.”

  Max shook his head. “You have no idea about what you speak, bassist.”

  “Girls!” Kitty shouted. “You’re both pretty.”

  Tom turned to Kitty and bit his lower lip. “You’re just saying that, aren’t you, Kitten?”

  “Am I?” Kitty asked.

  “You’re cruel, Miss Kitty,” said Tom.

  Kitty blew Tom a kiss just as Touque presented a plate before her. On the plate was a delicious-looking burger, garnished with tomato, lettuce, and onions.

  “Where in the bloody hell did you find the fixin’s, Touque?” Kitty asked, her voice drifting into a happy place.

  “Let’s just say I have a secret stash that will never be revealed to mere mortals.”

  Kitty stared down at the plate and drew in a deep breath. She slowly scooped up the burger and drew it near her mouth.

  “Go on, Kitty,” Billy said, patience wearing thin. “You’ve already eaten a few of those things.”

  Kitty glared at Billy. “Yeah, but this will be the first time I’ve knowingly eaten a human.” Kitty glanced up at Touque. “There’s no going back, is there?”

  Touque shook his head.

  Kitty opened wide, shoved a giant portion of burger into her mouth, and bit down. When the juices poured over her taste buds, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she chewed as if she were experiencing every joyous moment of her life at once. “Damn, that’s good human,” Kitty whispered. When she opened her eyes, she winked at Billy and swallowed.

  six | three stooges

  Night held powerful sway over everyone within the Casket. After the meal, everyone retired to the bar to cuddle up with whatever helped them through the night. In the case of Kitty, it was Billy. Max had his anthology of various existential essays. Todd and Tom sat hunched over a laptop…its glowing white screen casting eerie shadows across the room. The two men were busy working on editing their most recent video footage.

  “This is going to be fucking rad,” Todd whispered.

  “The crowd’ll love seeing the video playing back during the live song.” Tom shot up a devil horn salute and then added a few special effects to a series of frames.

  While the two band members focused all their efforts on creating the multimedia extravaganza for the next Kitty In A Casket show, a much darker art was being practiced outside the sanctity of The Last Casket.

  “This is a joke, right, Touque?” the first of two strangers whispered after spitting a brown rainbow of tobacco juice into the shadows.

  “No, Jake, it isn’t. It’s the logical step. Vic is charging too damn much for the stuff.”

  The second stranger shook his head. “There’s a reason for those prices. It’s spelled d a n g e r. You get anywhere near a Moaner or Screamer, and you willingly risk your life. I don’t know if I’m ready to go bareback with fate just yet.”

  Touque crossed his arms over his chest. “I have never known you to shrink away from any fight, Casey.”

  “When the damned odds were stacked so far against me as to guarantee a loss, sure. But that’s not the case here, now is it?”

  “I’m not asking you to rush into a goddamn undead flash mob, guys. All you have to do is drive around, locate a lone zombie, give it the long kiss goodbye, and bring the corpse to me.”

  “And then what?” Jake asked. “I don’t remember seeing an industrial-grade microwave on the premises. How are you going to nuke the meat?”

  Touque’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You deliver the goods, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Casey spat another arc of muddy saliva. “I know that tone of voice, Touque. What gives?”

  Touque offered a throaty croak before speaking in a barely audible whisper. “I happen to know of a commercial-grade microwave that is ideal for our task. I’ve already rigged up a special solar panel array that’ll power the sum’ bitch with juice to spare. All I have to do is procure the oven…which I plan to do tonight.”

  Casey and Jake stood in silence for a long moment. Jake pulled a pouch of tobacco from his back pocket and shoved a massive plug between his gums and cheek.

  “You can’t do that alone, Touque. It’s too dangerous,” Jake said.

  “Do what?” asked Touque.

  “Don’t go dumb on us now. We’ve gone to battle together too many times to let you go tilting at deadly windmills alone.”

  Casey stared at Jake, one eyebrow arching skyward. “What the fuck did you just say, Mr. Shakespeare?”

  Touque glanced at Jake and nodded. “Fine. I’ll take you boys with me. You can begin the hunt for meat tomorrow.”

  m/

  The old truck slowed to a silent stop a block away from McVic’s. The tick and pop of the cooling engine punctuated the constant buzz and chirp of the surrounding nocturnal population.

  “Fuck me,” Jake hissed. “That dude is crazy. If he catches us trying to hork his microwave, there’s no tellin’ what kind of mad bastard shit’ll befall us.”

  Casey glared at Jake. “Do I know you?”

  “What?” Jake asked.

  “Where did you
come up with this vocabulary? You gettin’ ready for a spelling bee?”

  Jake slammed his beefy fist into Casey’s shoulder.

  “Dammit, what was that for, Jake?”

  “For bein’ a douche. You understand that word, yeah?”

  Casey nodded as he grasped his throbbing shoulder.

  “Enough,” Touque hissed. “If we’re going to get this job done, we can’t fuck around. We have to get in, get the hardware, and get out…all in under ten minutes.”

  “Why ten minutes? You gotta hot date?” Jake asked.

  “I’ve been casing Vic’s place for a while now, to ascertain his habits. From what I gather, his sleeping quarters are actually in a building behind the restaurant. Once we break in, if we can get out in under ten minutes, there’s no way Vic’ll be able to wake up, arm himself, and make it to the shop before we have the oven loaded in the truck and hauling ass into the cover of night.”

  “Any alarms to speak of?” Casey asked.

  Silence.

  “Touque?” Jake prodded. “Don’t do this to us, Touque. Are there any alarms?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t had the opportunity to put that question to test. I’m guessing not. But…”

  The all-too-familiar sound of the undead broke the gentle rhythm of nature. Touque immediately fell into silence…his hand snaked behind him and retrieved a machete.

  “Jake, Casey…I hope you came armed.”

  From under the truck’s bench seat, Jake pulled out a short-handled ax. Casey reached for his lower back, his hand coming up for air gripping a small but deadly-looking pistol. Touque raised his hand and dropped it down on the weapon.

  “Sorry, Casey. We can’t fire guns at the moment. The second you shoot a single zombie, we’ll be surrounded by the undead. Besides, we have to act in stealth mode or risk unleashing the big bad on us.”

  “Vic,” all three men whispered.

  Touque reached behind the bench seat, brought forth a second machete, and handed it over to Casey. “Think you can handle this?”

  “Are you kidding?” Casey bragged wildly. “It’s a freakin’ knife. I’ve used one almost every day of my life.”

  “If you say so,” Touque agreed, and relinquished the blade over to Casey.

  “Christ, Touque, that’s a heavy-ass knife.” Casey responded to the weight in his hand.

  Jake suppressed a laugh. “For pansies like you, of course it is.”

  Touque wrapped his fingers around the door release and slowly tugged. With a muffled pop and a dangerous squeal, the door opened. “Kill with silent efficiency, men.”

  Jake and Casey nodded and slipped into the night. Each man stood with his back facing the truck, taking in the situation.

  There were five Moaners, all of which had picked up either scent or sound of the walking buffet and shambled their way toward the men.

  Blades were raised and ready. No one moved until the fight was up close and personal.

  Jake was the first to attack, his ax dropping, with deadly accuracy, into the skull of the nearest Moaner. The crunch and splash of bone and blood sounded a battle cry for all involved. The second the first zombie dropped, all hell broke loose. Touque slashed his way through the first meat-sack to lunge his way forward, his machete taking chunk after chunk of festering meat away from the standing cesspool.

  “Holy mother of Vaporub, the smell,” Touque whispered, just loud enough for his compatriots to hear. Over the continued moaning and hacking, the sound of vomiting could be heard.

  On the other side of the truck, Casey hurled a chunky soup onto the approaching zombie. The tan sludge spattered his torn clothing and dripped randomly to the ground. Before another bile slurpy met the back of his lips, Casey swung the sharp side of his knife into the neck of the zombie.

  Thick, brown ooze spilled slowly from the open wound. Without thinking, Casey dropped the hammer again…and again…and again. After seven whacks, the head dropped to the left. Instead of swinging the blade again, Casey landed a right hook into the side of the head. The sound of snapping bone was enough to push the bile over the edge.

  Head and vomit hit the ground simultaneously. The Moaner’s body dropped, its right shoulder knocking the head into a roll that landed directly under the foot of the next zombie. The standing Moaner placed his weight down and the head spun in place, causing the creature to lose what little balance he had. The zombie dropped, his head cracking loudly on the uneven pavement. Casey took advantage of the Three Stooges moment and windmilled his machete into the neck of the fallen monster. A single blow divorced the head from the neck, and the Moaner was no more.

  Casey stood and checked on Touque and Jake, their faces covered with the paint and spatter of battle. Casey blinked as blood dripped from his lashes.

  Touque nodded and turned to make his way toward McVic’s. Jake and Casey followed suit, not a word spoken among them.

  The door stood before the trio. They exchanged glances, and Touque clasped his fingers around the handle and gave it a cautious twist.

  Locked.

  Jake immediately gestured for the men to step aside and knelt before the door. “Light,” he whispered. Touque complied and shined an LED beam over the working area. Jake withdrew a pair of lock picks from his pocket and set out to best the clockwork of the lock.

  Less than thirty seconds ticked by before a soft click announced to the men that they could successfully enter the building.

  Jake stood, returned his tools, and moved aside so that Touque could take the honor of point.

  Touque stepped into the building, machete in his right hand, LED in his left. He pointed the light directly ahead of them and nodded. “Our target is through that door.”

  Silently, the men crept through the room, following Touque’s beam of light. When they reached the door, Touque took hold of the handle and gave it a turn. On silent hinges, the door opened. Touque tossed aside caution and entered without disrupting the shadows with the beam of light. Instead, he scanned the room until the oven in question glimmered in the radiant glow of the LED.

  “Fancy meeting you here, Touque.” Vic’s voice broke the spell of silence. “I bet you don’t need a cup of tea warmed up, do you?”

  Touque spun on his heels and cast his light toward the voice. Vic sat in a chair, a pistol in his lap. Vic stood and approached. “You see now, Touque, I’m really disappointed in you. I thought for sure you knew how to play the game. All you had to do was be my monkey, and I’d supply you with all the bananas you could possibly need. But it turns out you just have to act on free will and take what doesn’t belong to you.” Vic waved his pistol in the air. “I know, I know…you’re probably thinking Didn’t Vic take what didn’t belong to him? Why, yes I did, Touque. Why? Because only the strong survive now, and I had to prove my strength. Guess what, big guy…” Vic finally offered up a deep, throaty laugh. “I’m the only one here with a gun…so I win.”

  Before another word was spoken, a single shot rang violently against the steel and concrete walls of McVic’s. All eyes were on Vic; it was assumed the shot originated from his gun. Instead of the usual smug look on the man’s face, his eyes, cheeks, and mouth had gone slack.

  A stain of blood spread across his chest. Vic dropped his weapon and then crumpled to the floor.

  “Guns don’t kill people…guns in the hands of good shooters kill people.” Casey grinned as he shoved his pistol back into the waist of his pants.

  A shiny bead of sweat rose on Touque’s forehead. “Come on. We’ve got to move quickly.”

  “Why?” asked Casey. “Vic’s dead now. What resistance is there to face?”

  Touque stepped up close and personal with Casey. “First of all, the sound of that gunshot will draw a most unwanted attention our way. Second, the smell of fresh blood is one of the fastest ways to draw the attention of the undead. Either way, the horde will be shambling toward us now. On top of that, who knows how many of Vic’s men are nearby.”

  Not another wo
rd was spoken. Touque pointed to a counter-top on which stood a small appliance.

  “That?” Jake rebuffed the sight. “We just killed a gang of Moaners and a living human for a standard microwave oven? I thought we were coming to get some giant walk-in piece of cuisinal technology.”

  “No such thing, boys. This is all we need—a commercial-grade, three-phase convection microwave oven. This is the only thing capable of nullifying the Mengele Virus in ground zombeef.”

  Casey approached the thirty-by-thirty stainless steel cube. “Isn’t it going to take forever to nuke enough meat to make a difference?”

  Touque gave the oven a pat. “This baby can render five pounds of our product harmless in sixty seconds. That, my friends, is why we’re here, and it’s the only one of its kind within a hundred-mile radius.”

  Casey made to snatch up the oven, but Touque swatted his arms away.

  “I got this. You get the door and, Jake…make sure the route to the truck is clear. We cannot afford to lose this oven for any reason…undead or not.”

  The three stooges made their way back to the truck to load up and head out. As they pulled back onto the main road, the cloud of dust behind them perfectly camouflaged the rusted Chevy from view.

  seven | the birth of song

  The light of dawn spilled over the roof of The Last Casket. Situated on a lawn chair, legs propped up on a wooden crate, Billy the Bat strummed softly on a well-worn acoustic guitar. He’d come to the roof in search of his muse.

  It found him, in the strangest form.

  Off in the distance, still within clear sight, a woman was being mauled by a lone Moaner. Her cries for help wafted gently on the wind…a macabre punctuation to the apocalyptic soundtrack.

  Billy knew he couldn’t save the woman. Not only was she too far off, she was too far gone. All he could do was hope undead inspiration might happen his way and he could honor her death in song.

  I’m your nightmare

  Your worst nightmare

  I will be there when you sleep