I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  “We’re surviving, Jingo…on our own. Who’s to say we can’t continue on like this? We’d have no one telling us what we can and can’t do, no one insisting we come back with a string of zombie heads to prove our worth and earn our keep.”

  I stroked her jet-black hair. “Where is this coming from?”

  Mikko sat up and stared into the darkness. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across her face. “Do you honestly trust Crowbar?”

  For the first time, words escaped me. Mikko caught on to my hesitation. “You don’t trust him.”

  “Honestly, Mikko, I don’t know. It’s hard to trust adults now. They brought this shitstorm down on us and have yet to do anything about it. This is no different than how it was before chaos struck us dumb. That doesn’t mean Crowbar is using us for some sinister gain. Teenagers are his cash cow. Without us, he’d be dead.”

  “How can you know that, Jingo? Think about it; the man set up a game where kids hunt and kill zombies, lop off their heads, and bring them back and win lame-ass prizes. Have you ever stopped to wonder why the man wants the heads of Moaners and Screamers?”

  “Every day, Mikko. Every damn day.”

  “Then why are your questions ending at that? What about the man’s motivation? Maybe he’s actually a part of the Zero Day Collective, and he’s just setting us all up to either die or serve their master plan.”

  I interrupted. “Which we don’t know as fact. That master plan could just as easily be a rumor started by some jealous punk kid…”

  “Jingo, we heard it on Zombie Radio…from Bethany Nitshimi’s mouth. We’ve also both read Jacob’s book. How much more truth do you have to swallow before you believe? They want absolute control.”

  She had me, dead to rights. Honestly, I never really placed all that much trust in Crowbar and his game. Considering it was the only gig in town, it was a hard one to fight. On top of that, between Mikko and I, it was really easy to tally up the most heads and win the daily grand prize without breaking much of a sweat. That grand prize kept us knee-deep in calories. A full plate, in the middle of the apocalypse, was a rarity.

  Slowly, I nodded. “You’re right, Mikko. It’s just hard to give up such an easy meal plan, ya know?”

  Mikko returned the nod.

  An idea swept through my brain like a kite in a wind storm. Mikko spotted the light blinking on and off above my head and prompted me to speak up.

  I complied.

  “If we just turn our backs on Crowbar’s game, we’re not really doing anything about it. What if, however, we returned to headquarters, worked our way up the food chain, and destroyed the game from within? We could manage to save so many from so much.”

  Mikko’s eyes lit up with passion and thrill. “Or, better yet, we get rid of Crowbar, take over Asylum, and turn it into a refugee camp.”

  I pulled Mikko in for a hug. “That’s brilliant. Our very own Teenage Wasteland.”

  “There’s only one problem with our plan.” Mikko leaned back and bit her lip.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve seen Crowbar, right?”

  I nodded.

  “How do you propose two teenage kids take down that juggernaut?”

  “Even Goliath had his Achilles, Mikko.”

  “You’re mixing metaphors, Jingo.”

  A wall of thought crashed into my exhausted mind. I had to concentrate every ounce of energy I could muster to filter out the noise. Like Matrix glyphs falling into my consciousness, an idea coalesced.

  “The man has one weakness,” I said, and then paused to add a bit of drama to the moment.

  Mikko slugged me for my efforts and picked up my narrative to prove herself as smartass as me: “There’s a woman…a young woman. She’s maybe twenty at the most. He calls her Butterfly and I believe she’s his…girlfriend, I guess. Maybe plaything would be a more accurate title.”

  “Gross,” I said, revulsion getting the best of me. “Crowbar’s, like, fifty years old. He probably goes to bed in dingy tighty whities and a wife-beater. All gut and balls hanging out. No matter how many times I hear about him and Butterfly, it still makes me want to toss a bile salad.”

  “Thanks for that visual, Jingo. Now I gotta poke out my mind’s eye before I vomit my soul to the floor.”

  “Any time, lover.” I winked. “So what’ this plan of yours?”

  “We get Butterfly out of Asylum, convince Crowbar she’s been captured by some lunatic, and wait for him to take off on a rescue mission.”

  Mikko nodded slowly. “It could work. But what happens once he’s gone?”

  “That’s act two of the plan,” I answered.

  “So?”

  “You’re in charge of act two.”

  Another slug…same spot. The girl’s got impeccable aim. “You’re the mastermind, dumb ass.”

  “I see what you did there. Nice backhand to your compliment.”

  Mikko leaned in and landed a sweet kiss on my cheek. “Act two, please.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

  “It’s part of my charm.”

  “Fine. Act the second. We trap Butterfly in one of the abandoned warehouses near Asylum, along with a few dozen Moaners. When Crowbar goes in for the rescue, we lock him inside and let the zombies do that job.”

  “What happens if Crowbar takes the zombies out, rescues the fair princess, and returns to Asylum, aware that someone set him up?”

  “Act three, then.”

  “Good enough for Shakespeare,” Mikko interrupted.

  “We gather a small army of sympathizers, armed to the tits…”

  Yet another slug.

  “Teeth. Crap, Mikko, when did you become such a prude?”

  She lobbed a Cheshire grin at me. “Do continue, master story teller.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, captive audience, I shall. We gather a small army of sympathizers, armed to the teeth, and take him down when he returns.”

  Mikko applauded. “Excellent well, my liege.” She caught the look of disbelief on my face. “No, seriously Jingo, that’s a great plan. All we have to do is get our asses back to Asylum and put it into action.”

  My mouth was overtaken by an impromptu urge to yawn. “Yeah, about that…I vote we return tomorrow. I’m exhausted at the moment. Besides, we can’t return empty-handed. We can collect a few heads and show up before the dinner bell rings.”

  “Good call, Jingo. I say we go crazy and break our record for biggest collection. Impress Crowbar with our skills to make gaining access to his inner sanctum a bit easier.”

  It was my turn to lean in and offer a kiss. “You’re as brilliant as you are beautiful.”

  “And you better never forget it, dahling.”

  I lowered my head to the floor and blew out the candle. Mikko nestled into me and pulled my arm over her.

  “I love you, Jingo.”

  I kissed her cheek softly.

  “I love you, Mikko.”

  four | number one take out

  I woke. Mikko lay in the same position as she was when we drifted off. The dregs of a horrific nightmare faded from memory, and my breath and pulse slowed to normal. I was the bitch to my bad dreams. Every moment I spent sleeping, the same scenes haunted me. Every person who’d been a part of my life had turned into one of the undead nation. They came at me from every angle…moaning, screaming, swinging rotting fingers toward me.

  The highlight of the dreamscape was Mikko…all sour milk eyes, blood-caked lips and teeth. She swung out, grabbing for whatever her festering palms could latch onto. Once she finally managed to twist her fingers into my hair, she pulled me toward her warm, gaping maw. This time, however, there was no delicate kiss awaiting my longing lips. Instead, a pair of clacking teeth threatened to dig deep into the meat of my neck.

  No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape Mikko’s grip, and eventually succumbed to her self-same fate.

  I had been undone and remade.

  Every freaki
n’ time, that was the dream. It didn’t matter if I drifted off to slumberland with a wicked smile on my face or not. That nightmare always waited, ready to pounce.

  “What time is it?” Mikko moaned.

  I kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Time for you to get a watch.”

  “Ha ha, douche wrapper. Seriously, what time is it?”

  “It’s who gives a shit o’clock, apocalypse time.”

  “What’s apocalypse time?” asked Mikko.

  “Time for you to stop giving a crap about anything but me and survival.”

  “Done,” Mikko agreed, and turned over with a great grin on her face.

  “That’s what I want waking me up for the rest of my life.”

  “You mean horror breath?”

  “It’s like smelling salts.”

  Mikko unleashed a Godzilla-like breath.

  “Good God, girl, that’s bitter sweets you’re nailing me with.”

  She laughed and sat up with a stretch. “Don’t expect me to brush my teeth before coffee.”

  “Blasphemy,” I said, and took the hint. We always traveled with enough instant coffee to get us by for a few days—long enough to scrounge for the real deal. Before cracking open our stash, I scavenged through the Number One Take Out kitchen for some black gold.

  Tucked away in a can marked ‘Kohi’ was at least a half pound of unground beans, black as night and ready to fire us up for the morning. There was only one problem…no power, no grinder. It was time to channel my inner Zombie Response Team and make do. I found a plastic baggie and scooped out enough beans for two cups into the sealable pouch. With a rolling pin, I crushed the beans until they were a fine powder. Grounds ready, I turned on the tap and crossed my fingers for hot water.

  “Crap,” I hissed as the water refused to warm even the slightest.

  Square one and I were becoming besties.

  Back to the scavenging.

  Stashed away in a closet, I found chafing dishes, warming trays, and a box of Sterno cans.

  “Mikko,” I called out victoriously. She missed the celebratory tones and rushed back, assuming I was under attack. When she arrived, I held up the box and smiled.

  “What the hell, Jingo? You scared the shit out of me.”

  I shook the box. “Look.”

  “Yay, it’s a box. If I were a cat, I’d jump in it and take over the internet. Big deal.”

  “No, dingleberry, what’s inside.”

  I tilted the box so she could get a glimpse within.

  Her eyes went wide and she squealed with delight. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Hot coffee coming up.”

  “If you weren’t already mine, Jingo, I’d claim you here and now.”

  I wrapped my arm around Mikko’s waist, pulled her to me, and sealed our lips together. When I pulled away, I offered a simple whisper. “Claimed.”

  “Now make my coffee, damn it.” Mikko winked and walked away.

  Like the pig my gender embodied, I stared as she sauntered out of the kitchen. Once the door shut behind her, I turned my attention back to the coffee. The setup was simple—a Sterno can burning under an old-time coffee pot. I wanted to conserve as much of the flammable material as possible, so I made sure there was only enough water in the pot for two cups.

  I watched the setup carefully. The second the first bubbles emerged from the bottom of the water, I capped the Sterno and poured the water over the makeshift filter.

  The smell was intoxicating. It took Mikko no time to return to the kitchen. No words were necessary. I poured the liquid love into mugs; we clinked the stoneware together and took our first sips.

  “Oh, sweet jeebus, Jingo, that’s good stuff.”

  I made a satisfied “Ahhh” sound and took another sip.

  Mikko swallowed another gulp and asked, “Please tell me we can pack this stuff?”

  “I don’t care if I have to toss out my clean underpants, I’ll make room in my backpack.”

  We finished the coffee, stuffed every item of value into our packs, located the longest, sharpest knives we could find, and slipped through the door of Number One Take Out.

  Mikko glanced my way. “What’s the plan, Stan?”

  “We head back toward Asylum and take out a few beasties along the way.” I scanned the area for the nearest street sign and pointed. We walked the distance and then stopped. “Twenty-fifth and Oak. That means we’ve got about five or six miles of walking ahead of us.”

  Mikko huffed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I answered with a shake of the head.

  “You’ll carry me, right?”

  Again, I shook my head.

  “What kind of boyfriend are you?”

  Before I could answer, a chorus of moans filtered into our space.

  I sighed. “It’s too early for this crap.”

  Instinctively, Mikko spun around and put her back to mine.

  “That’s not going to work out here, Meeks. In this case, we need to gain the upper hand, find them, and drop the hammer before they know what hit them. Maybe we’ll get lucky and collect a day’s worth of heads on our first excursion. Then we can head straight for Asylum and tuck ourselves away to prepare for the main event.”

  Mikko patted me on the back. “Always the optimist, Jingo.”

  “Don’t knock it, Mikko. That optimism has managed to get us pretty far.”

  “Not even Spock could argue with that logic.”

  The moans returned.

  I held my hand up to stop Mikko.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  I answered softly. “The moans didn’t move. That means…”

  “They’re standing still. Yeah, I picked up on that, Jingo. I think a monkey could have solved that riddle.”

  She winked.

  “You could get away with murder. You know that?”

  “It’s the apocalypse, Jingo. Anyone can get away with anything at any moment.”

  Another round of moans sounded off. Mikko took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. “What do you suppose we do with this new intel?”

  I considered the options. After the moans rose and fell a third time, I was able to call their location. I had no idea how accurate my estimation was, but knew it to be ballpark enough to get us there.

  I pointed and whispered, “Two o’clock.”

  Mikko turned to face the correct direction and nodded. She held her knife high enough to be ready, but not in such a way that it would hinder a dash toward destiny.

  Without getting on our mark, we sprinted into the heart of a very dangerous darkness, unsure of what truly lay before us.

  My heart and mind raced faster than my feet could carry me. This was the moment I hated most about the apocalypse…the thrill of an unknown that could end with our lives extinguished. The only thing that managed to dissolve that fear was the game. With the slightest bit of trickery, I could twist the narrative and any given moment of life-threatening danger could become just another inning in the game of death.

  Batter up, bitches.

  We stormed into an intersection filled with a maze of abandoned vehicles. Cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, bicycles…all of which had been left to rust and rot.

  Standing dead center was a horde of zombies. They swayed back and forth like chorus members in an off-off Broadway musical adaptation of “Waiting For Godot”. Each of them stared upward, their useless eyes missing out on a gorgeous blue and white sky.

  I quickly scanned the area for anything that could give us the upper hand. There was nothing obvious. I leaned in and whispered to Mikko, “You feeling like a little divide and conquer?”

  Mikko took in the situation before replying. “It’s our only option; so yeah, I’m up for it. Which side you want me to take?”

  “You stay here. If this goes sideways, head back to Number One and wait for me there.”

  “Always the gentleman, Jingo.”

  I landed a quick kiss on Mikko’s
cheek. “That’ll be my new nickname. Gentleman Jingo.”

  “Only if you wear a bow tie and a fedora.”

  I winked. “Deal. But you’ll have to show me how to tie one.”

  Mikko shook her head and whispered, “Effing nerd. Get your ass over there so we can take down some Moaners.”

  Without hesitation, I slipped away, skirting the perimeter of the area. Once in place, opposite Mikko, I punched my fist up in the air once, twice, three times. On the third motion, Mikko shouted at the top of her lungs, “Hey, you dirty bastards!”

  I immediately followed up with, “Get your slimy bung holes over here!” The gathering horde turned one way and then the next. Precisely as planned, half of the Moaners schlepped off toward Mikko, and the other half toward me.

  Mikko shouted, “Come on, clown bait!”

  “You need to work on your trash talk, girl,” I replied at the top of my lungs.

  “I got yer trash talk right here!” Mikko raised her knife into air and gave it a shake.

  The Moaners continued to weave through the maze, slack-jawed and mopey-eyed. I dropped into my best Bruce Lee stance and waited.

  “I see you’re bringing sexy back!” Mikko shouted with a laugh.

  “Who are you kidding, girlfriend? Have you once seen this without its sexy?” I waved my hands in front of me.

  Mikko retorted, “I’d hit that.”

  With a nod to the gods of perfect timing, one of the Moaners reached Mikko just as she swung out; her fist connected beautifully with its jaw. Being the slim and trim, ninety-pounds-when-wet girl that she was, the roundhouse packed no punch.

  The knife, however, did. With a perfectly placed thrust, the blade of the weapon slipped into the mouth of the Moaner to sever the spinal cord. The zombie dropped without so much as a complaint.

  My turn. One of the undead crew drew in close enough that my blade could reach into and through the eye socket.

  “Another one down,” I called out.

  In my moment of celebration, one of the Moaners grabbed my left calf and jerked. I dropped, unceremoniously, onto the hood of the car. Both knife and wind were knocked away. My lungs gasped for air and my hands grasped for steel. The weapon was nowhere to be found.