Kate Brokenshire, Zombie Slayer (Book 1): Stand and Deliver

by Garth Ono

  "Yes. He has a small horde."

  "How small?"

  "That I don't know for certain. At least fifteen or twenty."

  Kate couldn't breathe for a second. She did the math in her head. Twenty zombies at $50 a head, and another $15,000 bounty for a vampire. That was a life changing amount of money for her. How long would it take to kill twenty rotters and a drac? It was worth looking into anyway.

  "I'll talk to you about it, but no promises."

  With seven heads in back, she headed toward town. The zombie body recovery team was parked next to the first three bodies. She stopped to ensure they understood one of the bodies at the farm was on the other side of the fence. The last thing she needed was an angry call from the Wilsons. They might demand their fee back.

  Tennyson was a small, quaint little town in western Illinois. The Mississippi was a few miles to the west, but they were far enough away to be above the flood plain. The area was heavily wooded, so the perfect place for zombies and vampires to swim across the river. Granted, most of the time zombies avoided running water, but they could swim as well as anyone. Better, really, since they did not tire or breath, so couldn't drown.

  The sheriff's office was at the end of their depression era, red-brick road downtown. It was a temporary office. After the Zombie Apocalypse, the State of Illinois made changes to combat the influx of undead from across the river. One of the things they did was designate sheriffs as the primary law enforcement element to fight zombies. They doubled the number of sheriffs, so some existing sheriffs lost their facilities. Sheriff Coleman was one of those men. They were in the process of converting City Hall's basement into his new office and jail. Completion was still six months away.

  The other thing the state did was to offer bounties on zombies and vampires.

  Old, red brick and yellow brick facades lined both sides of Tennyson's two block downtown. At one time Kate considered renting office space there to run her business. But really, everyone in town knew her, and knew she was their zombie person. She could run Got Zombies? out of her truck if need be.

  She still harbored dreams of an office like a Private Eye.

  Kate parked the Defender in a slanted slot on Main Street. There were a good dozen people on the sidewalks, and it felt like every one of them stopped to watch her fetch the heads out of the back. She didn't really like being the center of attention, but the locals all showed morbid curiosity about her job.

  The Sheriff's Office was ice cold. Sheriff Coleman wasn't fond of the heat. His daughter, who was Kate's best friend, constantly complained about how cold he kept their house. But it wasn't the cold that always made Kate pull up short when entering, it was the cigarette smoke. The sheriff was a chain smoker.

  "Isn't there a law against smoking in public offices?" she said.

  The reception room was small and bright, with white walls, gray linoleum floors, and a single desk. Deputy Randal Doge was sitting at the deck filling out reports. He looked up, and then she noticed his eyes raked her form a few times.

  "Heeey, it's Deputy Dog," she purred. Kate bit her lip, giving him an I'm interested look. Randy blushed and gave her a polite nod. "Looking good."

  "Hi, Kate," Deputy Doge said. He grinned. "You got blood on your nose."

  "Aw, damn, I hate it when that happens," she said, dropping the heads to thud on the floor. Pulling out a handkerchief, she spit on it and scrubbed. "Still?"

  "You got it."

  "Stop flirting and get back on patrol," Sheriff Coleman shouted from his office.

  The deputy quickly gathered his paperwork, placed it in a desktop wire basket, and then hurried out the back door to his squad car. He avoided looking at her the entire time. Kate frowned as he left. How did someone that shy become a cop? Shame, because he was just her type: tall, slim, dark hair and eyes. He looked mighty good in that uniform, too.

  "Come back here, Kate," Sheriff Coleman called.

  "When are you going to get someone for the front desk?" Kate asked.

  "You applying for the job?"

  "Never! I'd die of cancer within the first six months," she said. "Couldn't you get a fan or something to suck all this smoke out?"

  "I don't want to hear it," he said.

  Sheriff Jedediah Coleman was tall, heavy-set, and a powerful looking man. Kate had always found him intimidating, despite always treating her nicely. His brown uniform shirt fit snugly around his paunch, and he always looked disheveled since his wife's death during the Zombie Apocalypse.

  He had a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and another half-smoked one in the ashtray. Kate sighed, and then snubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. The sheriff glanced at her, looking surprised.

  "You do that all of the time." Kate dumped two black plastic bags, containing seven severed zombie heads, on the floor. "Seven. Count them and weep." She wagged her brows. "Yeah, it was a good day. Pay me."

  "Let's talk vampires."

  "Honestly, I just want to be paid my bounty and go home. That'll be $350 American, please. I prefer twenties."

  Sheriff Coleman took a long drag on his cigarette, held it a second, and then slowly blew out the smoke through his nose. He stared at her through the smoke, a calculating look on his face. Then he opened a locked drawer, pulled out a metal cash box, before counting out seven $50 bills and laid them on his desk. Kate tried to take the money, but he covered her hand with his own.

  "Are you going to kill the vampire?"

  A knot formed in her throat. She'd researched vampires a few times. There was a lot of money in hunting them. It was also considered the most dangerous job in the world.

  "Seriously? Do you know what the life expectancy for vampire slayers is nowadays?"

  "I have confidence in you, Katie," he said.

  "Don't call me 'Katie,'" she said. "You know I don't like that."

  He took another long drag, then spoke while releasing the smoke.

  "Alex Cray is a slim, pale drac. I think he might've been one of those emo-Goth boys prior to being turned," Sheriff Coleman said. He released her hand, so she could quickly stuff the money in her front right pocket and step back. He put a manila folder on the desk and slowly pushed it toward her. "I bet you could take him out pretty quickly. Vamps aren't any stronger or faster than they were when alive."

  "I don't know, Sheriff. They have big fangs and I'd turn into an undead drac when I died," Kate said. "That’s some serious shit."

  She didn't mention that she'd also be the vampire's eager to please minion, his to command, use, or abuse, if she was bitten. That was too scary to even bring up. Other than the money, she didn't see any upside to hunting vampires.

  "Fifteen thousand dollars would almost buy you a new car," he said. "I know you're struggling to make ends meet. That old truck sounds like it's on its last legs."

  Kate worried her lip, arms wrapped around herself. She wanted that money so badly. Yet, dracs were scary monsters. If it was just the drac, by himself, she might jump at the chance. The fact he had a little horde of zombies under his control made him ten times more dangerous.

  "Actually, my Defender is in wonderful condition. Don't let the dents fool you," she said. "Does the vamp have any living minions?"

  Anyone bitten by a vampire became his minion. Minions were still alive, still sentient, but they were absolutely obedient to the vamp. You couldn't tell a person was a minion just by looking at them. In some ways, the minions could be more dangerous than the vampire.

  "I don't know," he admitted. He sucked his cigarette down to the filter, snubbed it out, and then relit the one Kate put out. Kate sighed, shaking her head woefully. "He only crossed over a few days ago, as best we can tell."

  "Yet you know his identity," Kate said. "You even have a file on him."

  "He was caught on security camera last night behind Taylor's Hardware," Sheriff Coleman said. "It didn't take long to fill in the missing pieces and put together this file."

  Kate stepped closer and
opened the file. Alexander Cray's black and white photo was paper-clipped to the inside left. He was a rough looking man, with facial piercings. His hair was long, dark, and looked greasy.

  "He's an old guy?"

  "Old guy? He's only forty," the sheriff said, sounding offended.

  "Sorry, but that's old to me," she said. It occurred to her the sheriff was probably around that age. "No offense intended."

  Kate started reading the file. Alexander Roy Cray was from Chicago, and lived there all of his life, until the Zombie Apocalypse took him via a vampire bite. He vanished into the Zombie Lands as a minion, and then hadn't been seen until he showed up in Tennyson as an actual vampire. He was six foot two, a hundred and eighty pounds, brown hair, and brown eyes. Occupation was listed as beauty shop owner. The last reported sighting was a few miles north-west of town, near the old abandoned sawmill.

  How tough could a hair dresser be? Kate wondered. Out loud, "I'm not promising you anything, but let me look into it some."

  "Great. I knew you'd do it," Sheriff Coleman said, already looking like a load was lifted off his shoulders. "Good luck. Call if you need anything at all."

  "Backup?"

  "Always, Katie… I mean, Kate," he said.

  "Yeah, right," she muttered, turning to go. "You know if I get killed by him, your daughter will never forgive you."

  He laughed softly, turning his attention to other business as she left. Kate cut a sharp look back at him. Am I committed?

  Chapter 3

  Kate cruised down the tree-lined street east of downtown Tennyson. All of the homes were hundred year old Victorian and Georgian homes. She lived halfway down the street, in a carriage house apartment behind a big Victorian. Her landlord, Mr. Rose, was a retired car dealership owner.

  Old Lady Miller across the street was on her knees weeding the flower bed as Kate pulled up. The seventy-five year old slanted a disapproving look at her. Kate was kind of used to it. No one really approved of her chosen profession. They probably worried that zombies would invade the neighborhood because of her.

  Kate turned into the driveway and headed for the second floor apartment behind the house as slowly and quietly as possible. It didn't work. Mr. Rose was coming out of his backdoor before she parked the Defender. Kate looked at him, shook her head, and sighed.

  "I swear, he stands in front of his window and waits to pounce on me," she muttered. Sliding out of the truck, she plastered on a smile and turned to face him. "Hi, Mr. Rose. I have the rent money for you."

  He'd already opened his mouth to demand it, and looked a little disappointed she'd beaten him to the punch. The sixty-seven year old, silver-haired widower stopped and stared at her. He always looked her over like he was trying to find splatters of blood. Then he glanced at her battered old truck, and finally at the carriage house. She quickly started peeling off bills.

  "Here you go," she said. "Rent is paid in full on time."

  He reluctantly took the money. That was quite a relief. Since it was a small town, and he was friends with her father, neither of them felt it necessary to write up a lease contract. Technically he could evict her at any time. Fortunately for her, he was too polite to do that without real cause.

  "Are those new khakis, sir?" she asked to distract him further. "They are quite lovely."

  "Yes. Thanks," he said. Her landlord looked at the truck again. "There aren't any…"

  "No, sir, I don't bring my work home with me," she said. He was quite squeamish and worried she'd bring heads and bodies home in her truck. Kate wasn't sure he really believed her when she denied bringing any home. "I don't get paid unless I turn them in."

  "Hmmm," he said, face screwed up in distaste.

  "Do you mind if I take a dip in the pool this afternoon?"

  There was no doubt he didn't mind. The eighteen year old had seen his silhouette in the window watching her lounging by the pool. If some of her girlfriends were over to join her by the pool… Well she was pretty sure that made his day.

  "No, uh, no problem. Anytime," he said. His eyes raked her body. "No offense intended, but please take a shower first."

  She should be offended, but Kate usually felt dirty after slaying a zombie. So she always took a shower as soon as possible. And it was a pretty gory job.

  "Thanks. It'll be later," she said, turning to leave. "I have to run a few errands first."

  There was a door at the corner, to the right of the four garage doors that opened up onto the stairs to her apartment. Kate left her weapons in the truck, since she'd be using them later. She usually only took them up to clean at night. And she never let Mr. Rose see them.

  Kate loved her one bedroom, one bath apartment. The door opened up into the open kitchen and living room. The bedroom and a nice-sized bathroom took up the other end of the place. Her living room and bedroom overlooked Mr. Rose's backyard and pool. Rent covered two of the garage slots and all utilities, not to mention access to the pool.

  Going to the kitchen sink, she spent several minutes washing her hands with soap and water, before making a ham and pickle sandwich. It was her favorite lunch. She put a slice of cheese on wheat bread, then loaded it up with two slices of ham and lots of dill pickles, before adding another slice of cheese. Kate then put the sandwich in her George Foreman grill for a few. She washed it down with some premade tea from the fridge.

  Her favorite lunch.

  Placing her phone next to the plate, she started dialing her unemployed male friends while she ate. Johnny Tucker was first on the list.

  "Hey, Johnny," Kate said.

  "Hiya there, my little English rose," he teased.

  She smiled. He'd called her that since fifth grade.

  "You're English accent is still atrocious. What are you up to this afternoon?"

  Johnny was the largest friend she had. He was a star football player with a scholarship to play for Ole Miss in the fall. He was also an avid hunter. Last she'd heard, Johnny was still looking for a summer job. He just wasn't looking too hard. Johnny liked to party down by the river, and a summer job would kill his mojo. Kate had talked him into helping with a few jobs before, mostly on weekends during the last semester of school. He sometimes went looking for rotters to pick up some spreading around money.

  "Nothing. Why?" he asked. Johnny sounded like he'd just gotten out of bed. She loved his bedroom voice, though had only heard it over the phone. "You got a zombie job you need help on?"

  "Kinda. Twenty rotters and a drac."

  The phone went silent so long she almost asked if he was still there.

  "Are you crazy? A drac?" he cried. "No way. Those bastards are dangerous. Count me out and I'm worried you are considering it."

  She was actually kind of worried about that, too.

  "Come on, Johnny. I think three of us can take him out pretty easy," Kate said. "The bounty is $15,000 cash. Five grand each for a day's work isn't bad."

  "You do realize that all a vamp has to do is bite you once, and then you will be his absolute slave. And then when you die, you become a vampire. No thanks."

  "The drac was an emo-Goth hairdresser before he was changed," she said. "We can take a little wussie like that. Dracs aren't any stronger or faster than they were alive."

  Kate stopped herself. She was starting to sound like Sheriff Coleman.

  "Still, one bite," Johnny said. "I love you to death, Kate, but find someone else."

  He hung up. Johnny's never just hung up on her like that.

  And that's how it went with them all. No one wanted to even consider it after hearing she was going after a vampire. Kate couldn't really blame them.

  "Looks like I'm on my own."

  Chapter 4

  With some food in her belly, Kate felt a lot better about her prospects. It was still early, and midday was when vamps tended to stay holed up in some dark place, so the perfect time to hunt them. She wasn't ready to go in for the kill just yet.

  "Time for a little reconnoitering," she said.


  Sometimes she was really glad she didn't have a brother. Her father taught her how to hunt and fish, which he might not have done if he had a son. Kate rather enjoyed the wandering around in the woods aspect of squirrel hunting, though not so much the killing of little inoffensive squirrels. Cleaning the kill was the worse.

  Now she hunted zombies.

  "Daddy never knew he was giving me job training," she said, grinning. "He'd be appalled if he ever found out."

  Kate grabbed another box of 12-gauge shotgun shells. She carried it down to the truck, and returned with her bag of bloody clothes. She went through her blood-stain removal routine, before tossing them in the washer. The daily cleaning of cloths and weapons was the most tedious part of her job.

  "Maybe Mum and Dad are right," Kate said. "It'd be lovely to have a regular job where I could wear makeup, a dress, and heels." She shook her head woefully. "I'm missing out on that endless soul-numbing grind, all of that exciting sexual harassment, and of course the honor of half the pay for twice the work."

  Everyone was paid the same for a zombie head. There was nothing routine about her job and the dance club north of town offered all of the sexual harassment she could handle.

  Thoughts of Wild Willie's Country Dance Barn gave her a tingle. It'd been almost a month since she'd gone out with her girlfriends. Maybe she should call up Daphne, Teri, and Morgan? It was about time for another girls' night.

  "Better get this over with," she whispered, picking up her phone off the round dining table. The screen showed she'd missed a call while downstairs. "Haley called?"

  Haley Brokenshire was her half-sister, older by almost a year. She was Kate's father's daughter with the other woman he was dating at the same time as Kate's mother. Somehow, both mothers, both daughters, and her father all got along splendidly. Sometimes Kate wondered how her father pulled that one off.

  Haley was Kate's inspiration in starting Got Zombies. As soon as the Zombie Apocalypse happened, Haley quit her gig as a stripper and hit the Glory Road. She was a member of a motorcycle club, which was a fancy way of saying she was a biker chick. And the club could reasonably be called a biker gang. Technically, Haley grew up in the club, since her mother married one of the bikers.