I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Laughter filled the room from every angle. Kitty twisted her head around to take in the space. She was chained to a stage, complete with instruments of rock destruction—guitar, bass, and drums. Standing sentinel at the other end of the room was a bar.

  “What in the hell is this?” Kitty stood; as she did, her arms were stretched to the floor by chains too short to allow her the slightest bit of freedom. “What am I doing here?” she screamed.

  The stranger drew nearer to the stage; splayed across his face was the most serene smile. “Kitty Casket, you are going to sing for me.”

  “Like hell I am.”

  Three glowering men entered the bar and stepped up onto the stage. Kitty drew herself inward in an attempt to become as small as she could. Not one of the men approached her. Instead, they took up instruments and turned to face the stranger in front of the stage.

  The stranger pulled a radio to his mouth and said with blistering confidence, “Bring ‘em in.”

  A deep rumbling sound poured from stage right and left. Kitty snapped her head one way and then the other.

  Large cages were rolled out…one placed on either side of Kitty. The all-too-familiar sound of moaning spilled from within each roll-bar prison. The zombies snapped and swung toward Kitty.

  “How shall I put this kindly,” the stranger muttered, as if to himself. “I know…I can’t.” A wicked grin snaked across his lips. “Here’s the deal, Kitty, either you sing or I release these evil, ugly bastards and, within seconds, they have you infected and ready to turn. All you have to do to prevent that…is sing me a song.”

  “Go to hell, fucking creep,” Kitty spat.

  “Well, now, that just hurts, Kitty. I guess I have no choice but to let slip these dogs of war.” The stranger tapped the talk button on the walkie a few times. “What’s it gonna be, sister? Should I give the go to my minions and have them open the cages? Or will you sing to me with that golden throat of yours?”

  Kitty’s chest heaved a down-beat rhythm to punctuate her sobs. The rage that lined her face smoothed slightly and the stream of tears slowed to a trickle. “Fine.”

  The stranger stood and spun in place as he clapped and laughed. “That’s my girl.” He stopped, facing the stage, with that same generous grin spreading across his lips. “I knew you’d come around.” He held his arms up high and, as he mimicked the motion of a conductor, said, “Come on boys…let’s rock!”

  The drummer counted the band in with a quick four beats of his sticks. Kitty instantly recognized the tune as “Red Sweet Red.” As soon as the intro finished, she sang.

  I’m waking up in bright moonlight

  I’m wide awake, but I’ve never been so tired

  Blinded by its lurid glow

  Coming through my open window

  Kitty’s body remained motionless, save her lips and eyes. She blinked out a steady flow of tears as she took in the stranger doing his best molester mash before the stage. She continued singing, the lyrics a poignant tribute to the scene at hand.

  Desire’s calling me

  I can’t wait to taste its sweet, sweet symphony

  From skin to skin, from blood to blood

  This need is all I got

  I’m wide awake I got rules to break

  It’s well known that I’m a bloodsucker

  When you go to sleep then I start to breathe

  And turn into a child of the night

  The stranger joined in on the song, his voice veering toward painfully flat.

  The moon is up and I am out

  A heartbeat calls my name aloud

  It is in my nature

  Deep in my soul

  There is no recovery

  And there is no cure

  The lanky creeper climbed up on the stage and shimmied his way around Kitty. She did her best to crane her neck as he vanished behind her. Even without eyes on the man, Kitty could sense exactly where he was. She stopped singing and allowed him to take the chorus.

  I’m wide awake I got rules to break

  It’s well known that I’m a bloodsucker

  When you go to sleep then I start to breathe

  And turn into a child of the night

  The stranger grabbed a handful of Kitty’s hair and pulled down hard. “Keep singing, Casket. You don’t want to know what happens to you if you deny me my pleasure.”

  Kitty complied and repeated the chorus solo.

  Desire’s killing me

  I can’t wait to taste its sweet, sweet symphony

  From skin to skin, from blood to blood

  This lust is all I got

  The stranger joined back in for a rousing final refrain, his voice ragged and cracking against the strain of the task.

  I’m in a bloodrush

  And you can’t hold me back

  The only thing I want is

  Your sweet, sweet red

  The last notes of the song rang out against the rough-hewn brick walls and tin ceiling of the bar. The stranger squealed with delight. “Holy shit! Kitty Casket, you just made my dreams come true. That was…damn, girl, you are better in person than you are in the studio.”

  Kitty stared at the man, eyes rimmed with rage and lips sealed tight.

  The stranger swooped in and planted a kiss on Kitty’s lips before she had a chance to react.

  “Yowza, those lips are like sugar.” The stranger tilted his head from one side to the next. “Did my voice just echo?” The question was followed by a bout of maniacal laughter. “Oh, my love, we are going to make such sweet fucking music together!”

  eleven | catnapped

  Billy snored…just enough to startle him from sleep. In the deep darkness of the Casket, he rolled over, expecting his arm to drape over the torso of Kitty. When his hand smacked down onto the cold floor, his mind and body were shocked to waking.

  “Kitty?” Billy launched the hushed whisper into the darkness. His query was met with silence. “Fuck. Kitty…” He called louder. “You there?”

  When she didn’t answer, Billy stood and shuffle-stepped his way to the kitchen door. He slammed his hand against the metal of the entrance and, once it opened, slipped his arm into the kitchen and felt along the wall for the light switch.

  The too-bright light dug into his pupils like Freddy Kruger’s fingers. Billy blinked against the sting until his eyes adjusted. The kitchen was empty. He walked toward the rear of the room, his bare feet slapping against the hard tile. When he reached the halfway mark, his right foot connected with an object that rattled across the floor.

  “What the hell?” Billy dropped to his hands and knees.

  Under the stainless steel, industrial-sized table, Billy spotted the object he’d kicked. He stretched his right arm under the table until his fingers touched down on whatever it was.

  The second his eyes took in the familiar jeweled knife, he screamed, “Kitty!”

  Billy’s cry was met with silence. He dashed through the kitchen in a desperate search. Once he’d exhausted every possible hiding place, he called out, “Hey! Everyone…get the fuck in here now!”

  From within the bar, a rumble of moans rose and fell. The muffled sounds of waking too soon spilled under the door.

  Todd Flash entered the kitchen first. “What the fuck, Billy?”

  As an answer, Billy held up the knife.

  “Yeah? So you found a bedazzled knife. Big douching deal. Can I go back to sleep now?”

  The door crashed open again—this time, Max shuffled through. “This better be worth waking me from what was probably the best sex dream I’ve ever had.”

  Billy once again thrust the knife into the air.

  Without saying a word, Max turned and made to exit the kitchen.

  “Kitty’s been kidnapped.”

  Billy’s proclamation sucked the frustration from the room.

  Todd was the first to reply. “What do you mean, she’s been kidnapped?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? The implication is pretty
clear. Someone fucking took her from here…as in Kitty Casket is not in the Casket.”

  “Maybe she’s using the litter box, dude.” Tom spoke through a cavernous yawn.

  Billy raised the knife one final time. “You see this knife?”

  “Yeah, Bat, that’s the third time you’ve made a point to show it to us. Care to finally explain?” Todd snarked.

  “This is the knife that prick pulled on me, right after he attacked Touque,” Billy snapped.

  “Are you certain?” Max questioned.

  “How could I forget a knife like this? Trust me…this is it.”

  “Yeah,” Todd began. “But how does finding that knife equate to Kitty being kidnapped?”

  Billy hesitated.

  “What is it, Billy?” Todd insisted.

  The skin on Billy’s face blanched. “Right before he left, the dude said, ‘You never know what might come up missing.’”

  “So?” Tom prodded.

  “Kitty’s come up missing!” Billy shouted.

  Before anyone could say another word, Touque entered. He was in the process of tying his robe as he approached the young men. “What did you just say, Billy?”

  Touque’s voice caught Billy off guard. He jumped and then spun on his heels, fists ready to fly. When he spotted Touque, his hands lowered back to his side.

  “I said…Kitty’s come up missing.”

  Touque’s voice brought a level of calm floating down on the moment. “Are you certain? Have you checked the entire building?”

  Billy shook his head sharply.

  “Well, then, I suggest we search for her before jumping to possibly erroneous conclusions.”

  The gang agreed and split up to search every visible and not-so-visible inch of the Casket. Shouts rang out through the building—cat calls of a different nature.

  “Nothing,” Billy said as he returned to the kitchen. Touque shook his head to confirm his search had turned up nothing as well.

  “She’s gone,” Touque said softly. “We know who took her, we just don’t know where.”

  “What do we do?” Max asked.

  “We get out there and find her,” Billy insisted.

  “Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?” Todd asked.

  “It sure as shit beats doing nothing,” answered Billy. “I don’t care if I have to go on my own, I’m going to find Kitty.”

  Billy hurried toward the door, desperation fueling his stride.

  “Wait.” Touque’s voice stopped Billy in his tracks. “I’ll go as well.”

  Before Billy and Touque could head out, the whole gang had decided to ride along. They opted for the newly repaired Kitty Mobile. With the help of the loudspeaker, they could more easily call out for Kitty—should such desperate means be necessary.

  The van sliced through the hot desert night; a wall of dust rose behind them.

  Touque glanced over at Billy, who was busy at the wheel. “What are we looking for, Billy?”

  “A tall, skinny bastard…”

  “I know what the man looks like…and intimately, I might add. Remember how he kissed my jaw with a right hook?”

  “Right,” Billy answered. “He drove off in a Bondo-covered Chevy, dual exhausts. The engine was misfiring on the third cylinder.”

  “Yes,” Touque whispered.

  “Yes, what?” Tom leaned forward and asked.

  “I’ve seen that car…plenty of times. I believe I know where to find that son of a bitch.” Touque pointed forward, his index finger nearly tapping the inside of the windshield. “Two miles straight ahead, Billy. You’ll come to a ‘T’ and hang a left. Another two or three miles, and a small theatre will be on the right. We should see that car parked there.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Billy held up a fist. Touque shrugged and shook his head.

  “Damn, Touque, get with the times,” Billy hissed.

  “No, Billy, I believe it’d be more apropos if the times got with me.”

  “Can’t argue with you on that one, Touque,” Billy said, right before punching the gas into the floorboard. The Kitty Mobile lurched forward and rumbled its powerful music into the cooling night air.

  twelve | mud

  Kitty had already dived into the next song as the band did their best to cover Kitty In A Casket. The sauce was weak. Kitty pulled every trick from her bag of cool to bring the band up to her level. A phrase here, a bar there…it almost worked. In the end, their horror was no match for her punk.

  The stranger was still shaking his bony ass back and forth between the two caged zombies. His rhythm was off by a drunken mile, and his dancing skills were pathetic at best. Enthusiasm, however, he had aplenty.

  “Oh, shit yeah, girl, you can sing to me any day of the year, and I will be your slave for life.”

  Kitty stopped, mid-verse, and spoke into the mic…her voice layered with cynicism and rage. She shook the chains that bound her hands. “You might need to look up the term slave, because I seem to be the one in chains, Alice.”

  The stranger guffawed and waved off the accusation. “Sister, you are loving every moment of this.”

  One by one, the musicians fell silent.

  “Is that what you think?” Kitty asked. “Because I seem to feel nothing but hate seeping from every pore on my body. If you believe that is love, I’d be interested in knowing your definition of hatred.”

  The stranger grew immediately stiff as he pulled a pistol from his lower back. He brought the pistol to bear on Kitty. “This, dearest darling, is my definition of hatred. It’s quite clear. You fuck with me, you learn all about every permutation of the word.” He drew in just a fraction too close. Kitty could smell his hot breath and the sour musk of his flesh. The stranger leaned in for another kiss, his greasy, snail-like lips puckered and ready.

  Kitty leaned back and, without warning, slammed her forehead into his. The stranger reeled back, dazed, and stumbled off the lip of the stage.

  The band members rushed Kitty. The guitarist reached for her arms; before he could gain purchase on Kitty’s flesh, she snapped at him with clacking jaws.

  “Roll out the third cage!” the stranger shouted from the floor. “It’s time Miss Kitty knows how serious we are about this new situation.”

  Kitty’s muscles locked up in fear.

  “Yeah, that’s right, girlie…we gonna take the crazy up to eleven now,” the stranger said as he stood, his eyes wide and his smile Cheshire.

  Two of the musicians rolled on the third cage. Kitty relaxed slightly when she noticed it was empty.

  “Load the bitch up!” the stranger bellowed.

  The Moaners in the other cages lunged at the metal bars of their confinement as the men walked by. The empty cage was parked behind Kitty. One man grabbed her roughly by the shoulders as the other unlocked the shackles. When the metal bracelets clanked to the floor, Kitty struggled against the man’s powerful grip. The second her legs were free, she swung her right foot up to connect with the second man’s face. The musician’s head snapped back, launching his body off the ground and into the stranger.

  “You goddamn morons!” the stranger shouted. “Get that woman in the cage and proceed with the fucking plan!”

  The first musician strong-armed Kitty into the cage and slammed the door shut. The second man managed to get back to his feet with a pained moan, his hands rubbing his bloody nose and bruising eye.

  “Fucking cu–” the bloody man started.

  “Now, now, Jonas. We don’t use such language in front of ladies. Especially ones who just kicked your sorry ass!”

  Jonas turned on the stranger and opened his mouth to speak. Before a single word escaped, the stranger pulled a gun and fired off three rounds into the man’s face.

  Jonas dropped to his knees, stuttered an unintelligible string of meaningless drivel, and planted his dead face into the stage floor.

  “Well, that just blows a herd of pygmy goats,” the stranger shouted. “Now I’ll have to find
a new bass player.” The stranger approached Kitty’s cage, foul intention twinkling in his eyes. “Maybe I should just hijack…what the fuck was his name…oh yeah, Tom Mooner. He’s a stand-up bass kinda guy.” The stranger unleashed a laugh to shame a pack of hyaenas. “See what I did there, Kitty Cat-sket?” Another bout of laughter exploded from the man’s mouth. “Shit, I am full-on hilarious tonight! Maybe I’ll open for your new act with a bit of stand-up.”

  “What do you mean…my new act?” Kitty asked.

  The stranger drew in dangerously close to Kitty’s cage. “Didn’t I tell you, pumpkin? You’re the star act for my new club. Every night, you’re going to rock this town inside out and upside down. The locals here are going to pay a pretty shiny penny to see live music from an international recording star like you.”

  Kitty slammed her open palms against the metal bars. “No way in hell am I singing for you. No fucking way!”

  “My dear, misguided girl…please don’t act like you have a choice!” By the time the stranger completed his sentence, he was screaming, full tilt. A spaghetti-work of veins strained against the flesh of his neck and forehead. He turned to his remaining lackeys. “Get that useless bag of filth off the stage and chain those Moaners up as I instructed.”

  The drummer grabbed Jonas by the arms and pulled him off the stage. His head slammed against the tile floor in a loud, sickening crack. The guitarist reached into one of the Moaner cages and grabbed the arms of the beast to restrain it. The drummer hopped back up on the stage, unlocked the cage of the restrained zombie, and attached a length of chain to its neck. He then attached the other end of the chain to a metal loop in the stage floor to bind and ground the dead.

  “Go.” The drummer nodded to the guitarist, who released the Moaner. Both men jumped back and raced to the cage of the second Moaner to repeat the process.

  Kitty’s cage was wheeled into position equidistant to each Moaner and locked into place. Both zombies could reach just into the cage containing Kitty, but no farther. Should Kitty lean out of center, one of the beasts would snatch her up, and the end of Kitty would be nigh.