Doomsday Sheriff_Day 2_A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Adventure

by Michael James Ploof

  Max reloaded and shot a few rounds behind him, but it just seemed to piss the howlers off even more. They howled like a pack of demonic wolves, the tortured voices of men and women coalescing into a horrific chorus.

  When he was just one hundred yards from the raging fire, he saw Ned, John, and a handful of other defenders skate out onto the lake. But they wouldn’t reach him in time. The howlers were closing in, and Max needed to get to that fire. He hit the bank and staggered when his skates left the ice for the frozen ground beneath the powder. Max lurched like his pursuers toward the heat of the flames. He didn’t have to get close to feel the flames; still, he army-crawled toward the pyre. The heat was unbearable, and when he found that he could get no closer he turned around, bringing his gun to bear on the nightmare pursuing him.

  The eight howlers stood at the edge of the ice, their many faces twisted in anguish and rage, their tentacles thrashing in the air like alien jazz hands. One of the howlers, however, stood still and silent, milky eyes locked on Max.

  Then he saw the reflection of metal at the center of the mass—it was Stefan’s LARP armor.

  “Stefan?” Max looked closer at the head in the middle of the three, and his heart sank.

  Tears were already streaming down his face from the heat and the smoke, but now tears of sorrow joined them. Stefan was as good as dead, but it seemed something of his former self remained. He stared at Max with eyes of milky white, head cocked to the side like a curious dog.

  One of the other howlers noticed the hockey players charging toward them, and three voices cried out as one. The others turned and, finding Max too boring, started back toward the center of the ice.

  But Stefan remained.

  Max couldn’t take the heat any longer, and he crawled toward shore, his back feeling as though it were on fire. His ears throbbed with the overwhelming heat. Stefan watched him, though the other heads growled angrily. Arms randomly reached for him and pounded against the hideous body. A few of the legs tried to propel them forward, but it seemed that Stefan held them back.

  Max looked past the Stefan monster as fire erupted out on the lake. The defenders were engaging the other howlers, and from the screams, it wasn’t going well for team space worm.

  Four arms reached for Max, but the body yanked itself back. Stefan looked at Max, his eyes now clear of the milky glaze.

  “Gooo!” he croaked, grabbing a tentacle with one of his many arms and pulling it back.

  Max needed no further encouragement. He pulled himself to his feet and hit the ice, making a mad dash for the defenders. Behind him, the Stefan monster was caught up in a fight with itself that would have been hilarious to watch had Max not been skating for his life.

  Up ahead, one of the howlers stood over a fallen defender. Max shot it in the back five times, redirecting its attention and leading it toward Ned. The big man had exchanged his rifle for a semiauto model, and he riddled the beast with thirty rounds as Max skated past. John skated by then with a howler close on his heels and tossed a burning Molotov cocktail on the downed creature, which went up like a pile of kindling. Only three howlers remained, but two of the defenders had been killed in the fight. The remaining five that had followed Ned and John back out on the ice skated wide circles around the howlers like they had done before, keeping them confused and corralled in the middle.

  The howlers suddenly stopped trying to catch their attackers, and with a collective cry of anger and anguish, they thrust their tentacles into the sky. The next moment, Max and the others found themselves inside a globe of crackling electricity that reminded him of a plasma lamp. Electricity surged through his body and he went rigid, crashing to the ice in his paralysis. He saw the others fall as well as he swam in and out of consciousness. Screams of pain and terror found his buzzing ears as the howlers made short work of the prone hockey players, wrapping them up in their tentacles and absorbing them into the writhing mass. One of the howlers stood over Max, its tentacles eagerly reaching for him. He tried to pull his gun, but his body still wasn’t working right.

  “Go to hell!” he screamed in frustration, closing his eyes as the crackling electric tentacles reached for him.

  A thud and a howl forced his eyes open, and he caught a glimpse of another howler driving his attacker to the ground.

  Max fought to get back on his feet and pointed his gun at the two howlers. His spirits soared when he saw the quick reflection of sunlight bouncing off Stefan’s armor. The Stefan howler tore his victim apart, pointed tentacles slamming into the mass like the retractable jaws from Alien. Blood and dark ichor sprayed the ice, causing it to steam and hiss. Six arms held down Stefan’s opponent as all the tentacles stabbed into the oozing mass at once, and a great surge of electricity was unleashed right into the howler’s body. The thing exploded into a million pieces, raining down blood and bone and gore onto the ice.

  The Stefan monster stood from the destroyed corpse and glanced at Max.

  “Stefan?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he took off across the ice to intercept another howler who was bearing down on one of the fallen defenders. Max saw Ned take aim at the Stefan monster and charged across the lake. Ned got off a few shots before Max slammed into him, body checking him into the snow.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ned demanded as he hurried back to his feet.

  “That one’s with us.”

  “With us?”

  “He’s my deputy. Look.”

  Ned looked to the battling howlers and, realizing that Stefan was indeed holding off the other three, he rushed over to the closest downed defender.

  “Get them back to the lodge!” Max told those still on their feet. “Ned, give me your gun.”

  Ned tossed him the semiauto and an extra clip of ammo and took up one of the injured men. John and a few other men grabbed the others who had fallen and began slowly back toward the lodge. Stefan was holding his own, zapping the howlers with his many tentacles and leading them in a slow chase back toward the burning inn on the other side of the lake.

  Max raced after them, unloading his gun in short bursts into the backs of the howlers. They screamed and whirled around, nearly taking Max’s head off with their multitude of crackling appendages. When Stefan reached the shoreline, he abruptly stopped and grabbed ahold of the howler following at his heels and launched him fifty feet through the air. The flailing howler disappeared into the fire. Two others slammed into Stefan, tentacles thrashing and zapping his bulbous body. Max fired into their backs, giving Stefan enough of a distraction to get ahold of one and then the other. With a great heave, he tossed them both into the pyre.

  Only one howler remained. It shot out its many tentacles and dug them into the Stefan monster’s body. The howler pulsed the throbbed, and its tentacles began to glow.

  Max emptied his gun into the beast’s many faces. The gun clicked empty as the howler pulled its tentacles from the Stefan monster and turned its attention on Max. He popped another clip in the gun and took aim.

  “Welcome to Earth, motherfucker!” Max unloaded the entire clip into the heads and torso of the howler. It staggered back, its tentacles blindly electrocuting the ice and shooting webs of crackling electricity out into the air. Max got zapped again and crumbled to the ice in a twitching heap.

  He looked up just in time to see the Stefan monster throw the howler into the fire.

  Chapter 4

  Long Live Stefan

  Max woke up cradled by six arms. The smell of ozone assaulted his nostrils, and his eyes peeled open with sudden realization. He looked up into the bruised and veiny face of his deputy. The two other heads glared down at Max, but they seemed impotent to act.

  The Stefan monster carried him across the lake to the lodge, where Ned, John, and a handful of other defenders now waited.

  “Don’t shoot!” Max called to them.

  Stefan glanced down, managing some form of a smile, and set Max down on his skates.

  “Stefan, can you hear m
e?”

  He nodded his head and let out the low moan of a monster who was aware of what he was.

  “Jesus, man. I’m sorry.”

  “Kill…” Stefan groaned, his raspy voice a whisper.

  The other two heads cried out in agony, and Stefan’s eyelids twitched. Max got the impression that Stefan was losing the battle for control over the others. One of the howler’s many hands reached out slowly, grabbed the barrel of the semiauto, and raised it to Stefan’s head. The other arms tried for the rifle, but Stefan wrapped the entire body with the tentacles.

  “Stefan, I can’t…” said Max from the other end of the gun.

  “Pleeease,” Stefan groaned. His eyes remained his own, and they spoke to Max, pleading for him to end his misery.

  Max knew that he had to honor his deputy’s request. Stefan would do it for him if the tables were reversed. Ned came to stand beside Max with a Molotov cocktail ready to go.

  “Alright, Stefan, alright,” said Max.

  He put his finger on the trigger and pressed the barrel against Stefan’s forehead.

  “You ready, Deputy?”

  Stefan groaned and nodded, his heavy eyes blinking sleepily. “It’s…been an honor…” he said in his wet, tortured voice.

  “The honor was all mine, Deputy.” Max pulled the trigger before he lost the nerve.

  Ned lit the cocktail and smashed it at the howler’s feet, and Max watched through burning tears as the abomination burst into flames, taking Stefan’s spirit to the heavens.

  “Come on, Sheriff,” said Ned, turning from the scene.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Ned left him to mourn, and Max remained on the bank until only ashes and bones remained of the howler. When Max returned to the lodge, he walked right into a heated argument. Nearly a hundred of the cured ex-screamers stood at one end of the long dining room, and those who had been immune stood on the other.

  “I’m not sleeping under the same roof as someone who just ate their neighbors!” one man screamed.

  “How do we know that you’re not still infected?” said another of the original survivors.

  One of the cured men gave the other crowd the finger. A woman yelled back that they had the right to be there. Tempers flared, and soon a punch was thrown.

  Max took out his pistol and shot at the ceiling. The retort made everyone jump, and the fighting stopped in a heartbeat.

  “I just killed my best friend, and I’m not in the mood,” Max bellowed. “So listen up, you bunch of assholes. We’ve got a space worm invasion underway outside. The entire world may be infected, and the aliens are evolving. We’ve got enough problems to deal with without this segregation bullshit.”

  “And what happens when they change again?” said a woman, pointing at the cured.

  A dozen voices rose up with similar scenarios, all of which Max could not guarantee wouldn’t come to pass.

  “Alright, alright,” said Max. “I’ll tell you what. You guys want your clubhouse back, we’ve no right to insist that we stay. Give me a few hours to figure out where we’re going. You think you can do that?”

  The survivors agreed, and Max thought that was the end of it. But someone had more to say about it. Piper limped into the room with her arm in a sling, and her fiery eyes moved over the original survivors.

  “You people should be ashamed of yourselves!”

  Max hurried over to her to help, but she didn’t seem to need it.

  “Most of the world is dead, and all you can do is fight amongst yourselves. My husband figured out a cure, and he saved hundreds of us. The worms are gone—some of you saw it happen. We’re not spies for the fucking aliens.”

  “How do we know?” said a man, and others nodded agreement.

  Piper started across the room after the man, but Max caught her good arm and gently held her back. “Come on, babe, there’s no convincing them.”

  She allowed herself to be led into the other room, but not before lunging toward them with a loud “Booo!”

  The crowd reeled back reflexively, and Piper laughed.

  “Bunch of pussies!” she screamed over Max’s shoulder.

  “Jesus, Piper, what’s gotten into you?” said Max after he had closed the doors dividing the dining room.

  “I’m fucking pissed,” she said, pulling away from him and pacing drunkenly. “The world’s gone to shit, I lost my frigging arm, and now those assholes are making things worse.”

  “Piper, I had to put Stefan down…”

  She stopped pacing, and her anger was replaced by sorrow and pity. “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, hurrying to him and hugging him.

  “He’s at peace now,” said Max, holding her close.

  They held each other in silence for a long time, only parting when someone came in the room.

  “Sorry about all that, Sheriff, but they’re adamant,” said Ned.

  “Don’t worry about it, we’ll be gone in a few hours.”

  Ned didn’t try to change his mind, nor did he offer any supplies. He stood by the door awkwardly, his eyes downcast. “Sorry about your deputy,” he said.

  “Me too,” said Max. “He was a good man. And right about now, the world could use a few more like him.”

  Ned nodded, and having nothing to say to that, he finally left.

  “Are you going to be alright to travel?” Max asked his wife.

  “Travel,” said Doctor Weinstein as he rushed into the room. “She shouldn’t even be out of bed.”

  “I feel fine,” said Piper.

  “We’ve got to leave regardless,” said Max. “Seems like the others don’t like sharing a place with the ones we cured, and that includes Piper.”

  “Well then, I’m going with you,” the doctor said and crossed his arms.

  “You don’t have to do that,” said Piper.

  “The hell I don’t. I’m not passing up an opportunity to study you—sorry, I mean the cured. Besides, you’re my patient. Where you go, I go.”

  “Works for me,” said Max.

  “We should, of course, go to the hospital,” said the doctor. “I need to study everyone’s blood, and we’re going to need supplies.”

  “Sounds like a good home base,” said Piper.

  “The food sucks,” said Max. “But we can make the best of it.”

  Chapter 5

  Doomsday General Hospital

  The drive from the lodge to Lake Placid Hospital was less than ten minutes, but the walk would take much longer, especially with the injured among the group. The fight on the ice had gone bad for the hockey players, though they had won out in the end, and there were many injured among the rest of the survivors. Those who had been screamers and had been cured were in rough shape as well. Most of them had sustained wounds during their time as mindless zombies, and many needed amputations like Piper. Doctor Weinstein told Max that he had been intending to make the move to the hospital anyway, but he needed a way to get them there.

  That’s where Max came in.

  John had decided to go along with the cured as well. It hadn’t been much of a decision; his mother and sister had been among the screamers out on the ice, and now they had been returned to him.

  Max brought Stefan’s sword along with him, and he and John headed out to find a bus that might ferry the survivors to the hospital. It was nearing noon now, and the sun was out in full force. Max had to think for a moment about what day it was—Monday. In the normal world, he would have enjoyed the weekend with Piper, laughed with her when she told him about the cancer prank, and enjoyed a sunny Sunday on the slopes.

  But this wasn’t the normal world, this was a living nightmare, and Max was smack dab in the middle of it.

  “You a college student, John?” said Max as they walked into town.

  “Fuck that. College is a scam. I’ve been working with my father for the last five years since I graduated high school. Now I’m a professional welder, and I’m licensed to work on heating and cooling units. Zero debt.�
��

  “Smart.”

  “Hell, I could probably live on the money from trapping alone.”

  “Ah, you’re a hunter,” said Max.

  John nodded. “Who isn’t in the Adirondacks?”

  “Plenty of people,” said Max. “You can usually spot them. They like to jog and bike a lot, and they come back from Mexico in the middle of February with a sunburn every year.”

  John laughed. It was nice to hear laughter. It reminded Max of the sound of hope.

  “What about you?” John asked.

  “College or hunting?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, I went to school for criminal justice after Afghanistan. Graduated and became a corrections officer, first downstate and then at Ray Brook. But I didn’t like that much, so when I was thirty years old I ran for sheriff. And here I am. As for hunting, I killed my first buck before I got my first boner.”

  John laughed. “That makes two of us.”

  They found a Trailside bus in one of the hotel parking lots. It had likely been used to bring the hockey players to Lake Placid for the big pond hockey tournament. The bus could seat more than a hundred, and the driver must have topped off the tank after arriving in town.

  Max drove the bus back to the lodge, expecting to be attacked by more three-headed howlers, but the streets were quiet. The day was mild for this time of year, when temperatures could dip below zero for days at a time. He wondered if all the screamers had joined together to create the horrid human pyramids, and if they would all soon burst forth with shiny black eggs and unleash more three-headed howlers. There had been hope when Max discovered that alcohol could cure the screamers, but if they all morphed into howlers, they were forever doomed.

  In the lodge, the cured were preparing for the move, and of course fights had broken out as to what they could take. Thankfully, Max didn’t have to shoot the ceiling this time to get their attention.