I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Nicco blinked his eyes against my hot breath. Tears welled and splashed down on his cheeks. Neither of us spoke a word—it wasn’t necessary. The moment was shared and the moment passed.

  “What do we do with the body?”

  The second Nicco asked the question, a monstrous pounding rattled the door in its frame.

  “We can’t dump it outside,” I responded.

  Nicco carefully set his camera down and walked to the head of dead Creepy. He grabbed the man’s arms and hauled him back into the closet. Nicco stepped over Creepy and exited the closet, pulling the door shut behind him. He steepled his fingers in front of his face and blinked. “We tell no one about what happened. I don’t want to be labeled a killer. Period. As far as we know, Creepy Pants made his way into the horde so they could return him to the mother ship.”

  Nervous laughter spilled from our lips.

  “Dude was one crazy mother.” Nicco nodded as he spoke.

  The pounding on the door returned. The sound jarred both of us from our Creepshow reverie.

  Nicco asked, “What should we do now?”

  “What are our choices?” I responded.

  Nicco said, “We have to return to Asylum. It’s the only way we’re going to expose Crowbar.”

  A body slammed into the door. “Only one problem…” I pointed out the obvious.

  “Minor details,” Nicco added.

  “We should get back upstairs before anyone starts to worry.”

  “Starts?” Nicco voiced my own innermost fear of the moment.

  “What do we tell them?” I asked.

  Nicco shook his head. “I vote nothing.”

  “I’d happily second that, but Mikko won’t buy our silence. She’s too intuitive.”

  “Damn girls.”

  “Yeah…what’s a guy to do?”

  “Are we not men?” I quoted one of my dad’s favorite bands. Nicco tilted his head as if to stand clueless against the greatest pop reference of all time.

  “I don’t get it,” Nicco said.

  “And you never will. Come on.” I took the stairs at a sprint, all the while wondering what, exactly, I would tell everyone. What I really wanted to do was forget what just happened and return to what was supposed to be the best years of my life. Happiness. It’d been so long since I’d experienced life without tragedy and death. Yes, death was rampant in the new world order, and was usually preceded by a moan or a scream…like the sex I was supposed to be having after the prom I never got to attend.

  Damn apocalypse.

  I hit the landing and stopped to catch my breath. Rushing into the group breathing like I’d just run a marathon would do me no good.

  Nicco caught up and stopped beside me. “What’s the plan?”

  I considered, weighed, and chewed on every idea my exhausted brain could conjure. As the possibilities shot through the fleshy folds of my gray matter, something floated to the surface.

  I turned and glanced out the nearest window. The undead flash mob was still growing. “We have to figure out what’s drawing those bastards to this building.”

  Nicco joined me at the window and then had a physical reaction to an apparent ah ha moment. “I need to get to the roof.”

  “If you tell me it’s to film…”

  “Why else would I go to the roof? You think I’m going to miss out on the chance to get some seriously golden stock footage? I could use this scene for…”

  I sighed. It was the only logical reaction I could muster. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m going with you.”

  “Hell, the damn Pope can go with, for all I care. Come on. We have to find an access point.”

  At the end of the hall was a door. Behind the door was a ladder that led to a crawl space. Navigating the tight space was tough…and hot.

  “Holy crap, Jingo, what’s the smell?”

  The stink of rot permeated the too-warm attic room. The foul stench was overpowering. I pulled the neck of my shirt over my mouth before I started tasting hate.

  “I’m gonna barf,” Nicco said, just before he spewed a rainbow onto the wood planks at his feet. I expected to smell bile, but whatever Nicco’s stomach chucked held no sway over the festering aroma wafting into my nose.

  “There.” I pointed with every ounce of hope I had.

  A window stood before us. I rushed past Nicco, carefully avoiding the spillage, and made my way to the dirty glass. I rubbed my palm across the thick layer of dust and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  It was my turn to hurl. The splash-down spattered everything within a five foot radius.

  “Son of a…” Nicco started before I silenced him with an open palm.

  I swallowed the hot and sour human soup, took in a deep gulp of air, and spoke with a vomit-ragged voice. “I know what’s attracting the zombies.”

  Nicco attempted to stretch around me to get a look out the window. I stopped him. “You don’t want to see what’s out there. No matter what you do, that cannot be unseen.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not a wuss like…”

  The second Nicco’s gaze fell on the roof, he popped again. After wiping the sick from his lips, he said, “It’s covered in…”

  “Death. I know.”

  “That’s what’s…”

  “Attracting the Moaners. I know.”

  “What the hell are we gonna do, Jingo?”

  I paused. It was a pause I hated with every fiber of my being because it clearly meant I had no idea what to do.

  Nicco answered the question on his own. “We have to burn it all.”

  I waved my hands between us. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We can’t do that. The roof is covered in bodies. You burn that much flesh and the building will catch fire. With all those zombies surrounding us, we’d never escape that inferno.”

  “You have a better idea?” Nicco huffed.

  “Yeah, not dying.”

  Nicco glanced through the window and back to me. “And how do you suggest we manage that?”

  I turned back to the window and did something completely unexpected.

  “Why are you opening that damn thing? You’ll let the…”

  Before he could complete the proclamation, the window slammed open and the wave of rot washed over us. Thankfully, I was fresh out of bile. I drew in a deep breath, held it, and stuck my head out the window. A quick glance was all I needed. I pulled back into the room, dropped the window, and exhaled. “The far side of the roof is near enough to the next building that we can either jump or find something to use as a bridge. We get to the other building, sneak out a back door, and run for our lives.”

  Nicco laughed. Not the reaction I had expected.

  “You’re kidding, right? You want us to walk through that cesspool of rotting human meat to the other side of the roof, and then jump onto another roof?”

  I nodded.

  “Tell me, Jingo, which part of your plan sucks the most?”

  “Okay, I admit it’s not the most ideal…”

  “Ideal? Are you crazy? It’s insane.”

  “Fine, Nicco. If you want to stay in this death trap and wait for the Grim Reaper to knock down the door, you’re welcome to it. I, on the other hand, am going to get Mikko and save our asses. One way or another, I’m getting out of this alive. Feel free to film our exit.”

  >^<

  “There’s got to be a better way,” Fay said, her voice filled with desperation.

  I shook my head.

  “Oi, grow some bollocks. It’s all part of the bloody game,” Frenzy interjected.

  Mikko nodded and wriggled under my arm. She stood as close to me as she possibly could without slicing open my torso and crawling in like I was so much Tauntaun. “I’m game.”

  “The whole roof?” Kubrick asked.

  Nicco turned his camera around and played back the short piece of footage he had taken while peering out the window. Kubrick nearly lost what little he’d put into his stomach.

  “Oh, great Christ,” Kubrick moaned. “I don�
�t know if…”

  “I’m going. I can’t stay here and listen to the chorus of the damned wailing for us to come out and play for one second more. I’d rather fall to my death than stay here much longer.”

  Nicco threw up his arms. “I can’t believe you. It’s a suicide mission.”

  Frenzy stepped to my side. “All part of the game, mate. You know I’m in.”

  I stared long and hard at Nicco before speaking. “There are a lot of really young kids at Asylum who depend upon us. We don’t have a choice.”

  Nicco shook his head against my words. I decided to take a shot at his ego.

  “Consider this. You want to be remembered for your work behind the camera?”

  Nicco nodded slightly. I had him.

  “Imagine you getting on film, for all to see, the salvation of a hundred or so innocent children.”

  Nicco’s face lit up. “Son of a bitch. That’s Oscar material there. You should have led with that.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. “I’m in.”

  “Wanker,” Frenzy whispered.

  Mikko quickly changed the subject. “What’s the plan?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and spoke with as much authority as I could command. “My vote is we find something to use as a bridge. If we jump, and one of us doesn’t make it, the Moaners could figure out what’s going on.”

  Nicco laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Zombies don’t figure things out, they work completely on instinct and impulse. If one of us fails to stick the landing, they’ll fall to the ground and be ripped apart by a horde of the undead. Once the brain is gone, they’ll go back to bumping foreheads with the building until entropy finally makes them its bitch.”

  Mikko turned to the cameraman. “Let me guess, you’ve never been kissed, right?”

  Nicco blushed. “What the hell does that have to do with this?”

  “Nothing,” Mikko grinned. “Just…confirmation is all.”

  “For what?”

  I interrupted before the situation became heated. “What can we use as a bridge?”

  “A ladder?” Kubrick answered.

  “Have you seen one?” I asked.

  Kubrick shook his head.

  “Didn’t we see an eight-foot foldable table back in one of the rooms?” Nicco asked.

  “Yes!” I nearly shouted. “That’s perfect.” I looked to Frenzy. “Come with me, Fren. You and I are going to build a bridge.”

  “Sandra Bollocks,” Frenzy huffed. “Why do I have to…”

  Mikko kicked Frenzy in the shin with a well-worn Doc Marten boot. Frenzy winced and muttered, “There’s some bloody irony in there somewhere.”

  “Let’s go, Frenzy.”

  >^<

  We snatched up the eight-foot table.

  “These bastards are heavier than they look.”

  He was right. In my seventeen years of existence, I’d never had a need to haul a folding table. The weight was going to be a problem in the attic.

  “I hope you’re ready to sweat a bit, Fren.”

  “Oi, I’m effing British. We’re always ready for a good sweat.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not really…um…”

  Frenzy pursed his lips and opened his eyes wide.

  “Right.” I drew out the word to assure him I understood.

  I didn’t.

  “One of these days, Frenzy, you’re going to tell me your story.”

  “And one of these days you’ll go screw yourself.”

  We reached the attic door and tilted the table on its end. Once the door was open, we maneuvered the eight-foot beast into the close quarters and I squeezed past. I stuck my head back out and said, “I’ll climb the ladder and start pulling the table up. Once it’s off the ground, you get on the ladder and help push it up. Can you handle that?”

  Frenzy shook his head. “Like Sanchez can handle a guitar.”

  The reference zipped past my head and splashed down on the wall behind me. Instead of asking, I planted my Chuck Taylors on the ladder and started climbing. Once high enough, I heaved the table from the ground with one hand. The heavy slab of press-board rose maybe an inch before it slipped from my hand. “Hey, a little help would be greatly appreciated.”

  Frenzy called up, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to be able to lift this blimey bitch.”

  I took in a deep breath and heaved. The table rose under the strain of my right bicep and shoulder. “Hurry, Frenzy. I can’t…”

  Before I could grumble the next word, the weight of the table eased.

  “Got it.”

  Together, we managed to work the table up the ladder, one rung at a time. The second the thing landed on the attic floor, I nearly passed out from exhaustion.

  “At least the hard part is over,” Frenzy huffed and wheezed.

  I laughed between ragged gasps of air.

  “What?”

  I caught my breath before replying. “The hard part is just beginning.” I pointed toward the window. Frenzy stood, and his lanky legs carried him to the glass. The second he glanced out, he nearly dropped.

  “Oh, hell no. That’s some bullshit out there, Jingo. You really expect me to carry that bad boy over those dead bodies?”

  I nodded.

  Frenzy’s head drooped. “Bloody shite, Jingo.”

  “Again, Frenzy, I say…you’re not…”

  Frenzy cocked his head at me and spoke, his voice completely bereft of accent. “Let me have this one thing, dude. Like it really matters if I’m from the U.S., Britain, or goddamn Mars. It’s the apocalypse, I don’t have to be me anymore. I spent the better part of my high school days wishing like hell for something just like this so I could escape the fate of me. So, if you don’t mind…”

  I raised my hand in surrender. “Understood, Frenzy. From now on, you’re pure Brit.”

  “God save the Queen,” Frenzy said.

  “God save the Queen,” I repeated. “Now…are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I am ever going to be, Jingo.”

  I indicated for Frenzy to cover his mouth and nose with something—anything—before opening the window. It didn’t really matter what you used as a mask, the stench would cut through, regardless. Fortunately, I was prepared for the onslaught. Frenzy, on the other hand, was not. The second the window unleashed the beast, he dry-heaved behind the cloth of his Anti-Nowhere League tee shirt.

  Much to my surprise, Frenzy climbed out first. Before pulling the table through the window, he peeked back in and said, “Christ, I think my shoe just crushed some bloke’s skull.”

  With more struggle than I’d hoped, we managed to squeeze the table through the window. I climbed out and planted one foot onto the roof. When I placed my second foot down, it slipped on a piece of festering intestine and dropped me onto my back.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned. “I don’t want to know what broke my fall.”

  Frenzy stared at me in horror. “No, mate, you don’t.” He reached a hand out and pulled me back to my feet. “Annnnd, whatever it was decided to hitch a ride on your back.”

  I nearly panicked. In desperation, I spun in place in a vain attempt to swat away whatever latched onto me.

  Frenzy laughed. “Calm down, Jingo. I was just winding you up.”

  I stopped, mid-twist. “What?”

  “I was teasing you. You’ve got nothing on your back.”

  “Are you out of your damn mind, Frenzy?”

  “Well, yeah, you could def say that.”

  I grabbed a fistful of shirt. “For the next, oh, I don’t know, hour or so…don’t…wind me up!”

  Frenzy nodded frantically. I released my grip and he fastidiously smoothed his shirt. “Oi, this is an original…as in can’t be replaced.”

  “Neither can we.” I pointed to the table. “Grab your end and march.”

  The muck and mire of the oily flesh beneath our feet was retch-inducing. With each step, a new level of sick was discovered. The mea
t squished like a sponge wet with with thickened soap. Bones made brittle by exposure to the sun snapped under our weight.

  I heard Frenzy whispering, “It’s only a movie. It’s only a movie.”

  “That working for ya, Fren?”

  “Damn it!” Frenzy hissed. “It was until now.”

  We carefully lowered the table to the edge of the building. When the metal rails of the eight-footer touched down on the cement edging of the roof, not even a breath of sound was heard. A very slow and stress-filled breath escaped my lips.

  I looked over to Frenzy and whispered lightly, “On the count of three, we slide this to the other building. Hold tight. We drop it, and lose our only chance.”

  Frenzy nodded his understanding of the plan.

  I mouthed, “One. Two. Three.”

  Ever so cautiously, we sent the table sliding across the chasm between the buildings. As it inched near its destination, I realized the trajectory was too low. I pressed down with all my weight to course correct. The table bounced up just enough to make it over the lip. With every ounce of control available, we lowered the table until it touched down silently. I glanced toward the table top to see drops of sweat collecting like rain.

  Simultaneously, we stood. Our knees were covered with the slop of death. Frenzy bit his lower lip and pulled together his separate brows into one, epic unibrow. He shook his head, turned, and quickly made his way back to the window.

  I followed. With each squishy step, I doubted the plan more and more.

  “You think the girls’ll be able to handle that walk of undead shame?”

  “Mikko could do cartwheels through that mess. As for Fay? We’ll find out soon enough.”

  >^<

  I didn’t give Mikko a chance to prove her mettle. The second we reached the rot, I scooped her up and carried her through the gore-strewn mess.

  “Why the chivalry? I eat this kinda stuff for breakfast.”

  “Didn’t want you to get your Docs dirty.”

  “Well played, good sir Jingo. Well played.”

  We all managed to cross the makeshift bridge without drawing undead attention to our escape. Getting into and out of the neighboring building went equally as smooth. The whole time we were making our break, I waited for the other shoe to fall on the rug being pulled out from under our feet.