Valley of Death & Zombies

by William Bebb

  Jeremiah heard a sound in the living room, and went back in holding all the emergency medical supplies he could find. His impromptu supplies were half a roll of toilet paper, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a small tin of aspirin. Opting to leave the propane lantern on the kitchen table, he walked back in the shadowy living room saying “All I found was-” The rest of the words died on his lips, as he stared in shock and confusion.

  The faceless one eyed man he'd left in the recliner was gone. In his place there was a big coil of very thick gray brown hoses with darker gray irregular designs on them, and Jeremiah was completely at a loss until he saw the head of the snake move. In the gloomy dark living room, when the snake moved, he saw the man's nearly skinless face with an eyeball staring back at him.

  “Jesus!” Jeremiah screamed, as he jumped back and ran toward the kitchen. A second after he ran into the kitchen, an answering scream came from somewhere nearby outside the trailer.

  Thanks a lot, asshole. Charlie thought, watching the preacher boy ran away.

  Skynyrd opened his mouth and hissed in his face. I chose door number two, this isn't fair, he thought, as he heard more cracking sounds when the snake constricted his chest tighter. His eye looked around frantically as he gurgled pitifully.

  Cha-ka had been sitting on her perch near the front door, since Charlie had been carried inside and was more than a little confused. The monkey had never before seen such a bewildering night as this. First, two crazy men came and destroyed the garden. After a while, the lights came on and her beloved master was hurt and almost killed. She chewed on a marijuana bud and considered matters.

  One man was still close by outside and he smelled dangerous. Her master was inside, with another strange man and then she heard a scream from inside followed by another scream from the one who smelled of danger. She spit the remains of the marijuana out of her mouth and watched the man outside prowl around the trailer sniffing the air and grunting. When he went around the side of the trailer, she quickly jumped to the ground and picked up a piece of Charlie's facial skin that had been chewed on and spit out.

  Softly hooting, Cha-ka carried the piece of skin to the pet door that both she and the snake used to go in and out of the trailer. Not trusting the dangerous man outside anymore than the snake, that on several occasions had tried to eat her, she kept looking behind as she went to the door.

  Skynyrd's two foot long head moved closer to Charlie's face with his long tongue wiggling against the meaty red flesh where his nose used to be. The snake's tongue was tickling and maddening at the same time as Charlie gurgled quieter unable to catch his breath. Skynyrd's long teeth curved inward, looking impossibly long and wickedly sharp, as the snake exhaled a foul breath of rotted meat in his face.

  Damn thing could swallow a beach ball, Charlie thought, as he again wished he had an eyelid to close. All pythons are capable of unhinging their jaws and Skynyrd was no exception. Charlie saw the snake's head rising out of his field of vision and within seconds felt the top of his head being engulfed. Carl you lying sack of shit! I chose door number two, I want to live! Charlie thought, as his remaining eye looked upward.

  In the kitchen, Jeremiah went straight to the drawer he had seen the long steak knives in a few minutes earlier, knocked aside a filthy turkey baster, and grabbed the longest one. It was a butcher knife, about eighteen inches long not counting the handle. Looking at the knife held in his shaking hand, he hurried back to the living room bringing the propane lantern with him.

  Never imagining when he'd attended Bible School, he would be confronted with this type of situation Jeremiah was without the faintest idea how to proceed. Setting down the lantern on a nearby table covered in magazines, he walked closer holding the knife. Hearing the one eyed man's breathing becoming erratic and strained he knew there was no time for finesse. He sliced where, he hoped, the enormous snake’s neck began. The scales were tough, but he managed to slice through as the snake’s mouth was just covering the top third of the man's head. The blade was halfway through the neck when the long thick coils trembled, loosened, and suddenly fell to a heap around the man's waist. He cut until the snake's head was completely severed and set the knife nearby in case the snake had relatives somewhere nearby.

  Grunting, he lifted and unwound the long coils. The blood of the snake flowed over his hands, making it difficult to find a firm grip as he worked. Finally, he dragged the last of it's long body into a corner of the living room and caught his breath. The original foul stench of the trailer now was mixed with blood and a fresh smell of shit.

  He whispered “Give me strength.” as he tried, to work up the courage, to look at the man in the recliner. Ragged breathing assured him that the man was still alive. How and why Jeremiah couldn't begin to understand, yet still the man still lived.

  There was a sound like a cat drowning in a large pool of pudding, and an almighty nasty eye watering smell filled the squad car. Deputy Thomas Holmes looked over at the captain who was adjusting himself and his good size belly, behind the steering wheel, and wondered if the man might need a roll of toilet paper.

  Captain Brett Wyatt laughed at the deputy, and chuckled as he asked “Was that you?” with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his middle-aged face. The deputy unrolled his window as the cruiser came to a stop by the turn off for the Albuquerque Springs Trailer Park.

  “Come on Tommy cheer up, look at the dawn and remember after we get done working with the jerks from ICE on the roundup you'll be off for the rest of the day.”

  Thomas looked up at the dawning light purple sky, then at the empty highway. He had never been to the middle of nowhere before, but realized at last he'd finally found it. It's almost cold this morning, Holmes thought as he zipped up his jacket and stared across the road at the store which hadn't opened yet. Maybe, after the roundup I could go in and get some cigarettes, he thought as he pulled out his pack, stared at the last three he had and wanted to light up if for no other reason than to kill the captain's lingering fart aroma. Deciding he'd best save them for later, he tucked his cigarette pack back into his jacket pocket and looked at the fat man leaning back in the driver's seat with eyes half closed. Captain Wyatt is a tough man to like, he thought, as he reached for his coffee cup.

  “Okay Brett, I gotta ask why?” Holmes asked, and sipped some of his now cold coffee.

  Eyes closed, he laughed softly and said “Well son, when you get older the farts just slip out in all kinds of situations. Why, just last Sunday afternoon I was at church, bending over to pat Nanci Scarpullie's daughter on the head and one just flew out of me like a freight-”

  “No, no, not that. Why are we out here? Why is Immigration Customs Enforcement sending a squad all the way out here, to literally the middle of nowhere, to round up a bunch of illegal’s when you can't swing a dead cat in town and not slap off a dozen sombreros?”

  Brett laughed, a phlegmatic unpleasant sound, which quickly dissolved into a coughing fit that last several seconds. He leaned forward, spit into his empty coffee cup, smiled at his young partner, and said “Boy don't you know anything do you? That pompous old prick Keck was in the Sheriff's office all afternoon Friday and then again first thing on Monday morning bitching about the guys down in the valley.” Gesturing with his middle finger, he pointed down the deserted road.

  “The sheriff sent Keck to me and I got to listen to him too. Stupid bastard sat right in front of me, swearing like a drunken piece of shit about how more than a third of his workers- illegal workers that is, haven't been going to work since last Thursday. So I says, have they broken any laws, other than sneaking across the border and stealing jobs from real Americans, that is? I wish I had taken his picture, when his face turned red. I swear it looked like a fresh vine ripe tomato. Then he gets all pissy, starts telling me either I go arrest them or he'll go see a buddy of his who works at ICE and get the whole pack of them kicked out of the country. If for no other reason than to keep the other illegals from wandering off the job too. A
s if I could give a shit.”

  Holmes looked confused, started to speak and then looked more confused. “So why are we here? Why does ICE need us for a roundup? Don't they do that all the time?”

  Brett sighed, looking out at the empty highway and said “We are here because the Sheriff is a good buddy of Keck's and I pissed him off. You are here because regulations dictate it. But here's the real reason were sitting out here freezing our sorry butts off. Washington won't build a damn wall so any stinking bastard that has a sense of direction and a desire to ramble to wander into my country.”

  Oh shit, Thomas thought, why can't I learn to keep my mouth shut. The captain was building up speed, as he continued a sermon he'd preached at least once a week since he started working in Albuquerque.

  “Washington doesn't give a baby mouse fart in a hurricane, who wanders into our country. Could just be good old Pedro looking for work, or could be some of Goddamned Osama Bin Laden's buddies with a few canisters of some biological crap that will melt the faces off the God fearing taxpayers of this once great country. It could be a pack of drug dealers setting out to destroy the freckle faced, apple pie eating, mother loving, kids of America. Could be a hoard of fucking monsters from planet Poopsilon six. Hell, there could be anything wandering out of the badlands of Mexico. Shambling around looking to-”

  “Is that the ICE bus?” Thomas interrupted, as Brett paused for air. They looked down the highway and saw a long gray bus coming toward them, as the early morning sun glinted off the windshield.

  “Yep, you go on out and see what’s what.” Wyatt said, as he reached and unhooked the car's handset.

  “Albuquerque HQ this is Captain Wyatt, come in.” He waited a few seconds and tried again, watching Thomas wave the bus to stop as it made the turn off the highway “Albuquerque HQ this is Captain Brett Wyatt, come in, over.”

  There was a burst of static, followed by Lieutenant Bo Autry's voice “Go ahead Wyatt.”

  “Captain Lopez asked me to check in when we were ready to head into the valley. He said communications might get dicey once were in there. Anyway our friends with the RV just pulled in so just pass along the news were just about to roll in.”

  “Did you pack your running shoes?” Bo's chuckling voice asked.

  “That would be a negative. I'm management and Thomas will get the exercise if there’s any need for it.”

  Thomas waved for him to come over to the bus.

  “Gotta go to the pregame meeting, Bo, see you in a few hours, over and out.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “Bo Autry, report to briefing room two. Bo Autry report to briefing room two.” Came a voice over the public address system.

  “Playtime's over, thanks.” he said handing the microphone back to the cute blond dispatcher he'd borrowed it from when he overheard Wyatt calling in earlier. She smiled back and Bo tried to think of something clever to say to her as he left the room.

  “Adios Senorita.”

  She looked up, with a puzzled look on her face, and waved uncertainly as he walked into the hall.

  He was looking back as he walked and bumped into somebody.

  “Hey man, watch where yer going. I almost dropped my breakfast.” He turned and there was Deputy Willie Dunn, with two gravy covered biscuits on a plate, chewing a mouthful of something.

  Willie. you pathetic whale of a man, don't you have any sense at all in that fat head of yours? He thought, as he squeezed past his enormous belly. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he said “You could try eating that stuff in the break room, ya know.”

  “No time, Boo Boo, gotta get to roll call,” he said smiling- excited by his witty way he changed Bo's name. Willie scooped up an entire biscuit, covered in white dripping gravy, and shoved it into his big mouth.

  Bo stopped walking and watched in almost morbid fascination as gravy dripped down Willie's chin and onto his uniform shirt. Other deputies were passing by when Bo couldn't resist saying “Ya know Willie that white gravy dribbling down your chin sure looks a lot like sperm.”

  A few officers smiled and chuckled, but it was Willie's response that made Bo know it was going to be a great day.

  Willie grabbed the other biscuit, with his greasy fingers, held it up and said “Sure doesn't taste like it.” as he popped it into his mouth. The hallway erupted in laughter as Willie realized what he had said and sputtered with a mouth full of biscuit and gravy. “No, that’s not what I meant to say.”

  Bo was still chuckling when he entered briefing room two and saw Captain Lopez, standup, bend over at the waist, saying “Welcome, to fantasy briefing room number two.”

  Bo shook his head. “I got a better one.” and recounted his latest Willie Dunn experience.

  Lopez laughed till he cried. He eventually calmed down and used his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. When he was finally composed he asked a good question. “What am I going to do with him? He's always late and forgets whatever I try to teach him. He's got to be topping the scales at four hundred pounds. And the last thing I heard was that he was diagnosed a type two Diabetic six months ago and still hasn't changed his diet. What am I supposed to do with him?”

  “Shoot him.” Bo said grinning. “For his sake and the sake of Department morale.”

  “If he wasn't the Mayor's nephew I might just do it, but all things considered I think I'll just wait another few months and retire. If Dunn hasn't suffered a major heart attack by then he'll be Wyatt's problem.”

  “Speaking of other problems, did the cell phone number Yugo dialed yesterday hit pay dirt yet?” Bo asked, sitting down across the table from his captain.

  “No, not yet. We've got the cell phone number red flagged though. If they turn it on or get where there’s cell tower coverage we'll be ready. I'll keep you in mind when we get a location on it.”

  “Wouldn't miss it for the world.” Bo said, looking at the papers on the table.

  “Oh, wait a second, before we go over all this other stuff let me call Wyatt and see if the guys from Immigration showed up out there. The Sheriff already called me about that stupid raid this morning.”

  “I spoke to Wyatt about ten minutes ago. He said they arrived and they'd be going down soon.”

  “Good. That’s one less thing I need to worry about this morning.” Lopez said as he opened his briefcase and began going over the day’s schedule.

  Though he acted like the teasing didn't matter, as roll call broke up and deputies went about their morning assignments, Willie's face was beet red and he felt nauseous as a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin. He remained in his chair until he was the last officer in the room, then slammed his flabby fist down on the table. Papers and half empty plastic cups fell to the floor as he stood up. Shuddering in barely contained fury he kicked his chair back. The chair crashed against a stack of neighborhood watch posters, which slid over the floor in all directions.

  In his mind he kept hearing the stupid things his genius co-workers had said before roll call. Deputy Allen, with his shit eating grin, “Say Willie, I think my wife's been cheating on me. Could you try some of her biscuits and gravy she cooks and tell me if you taste anything- you know spermy about them?”

  It was a regular amateur night at the comedy club this morning. Everybody that heard of his little slip of the tongue, in the hall, with Bo just had to throw their own bullshit jokes into the mix.

  Willie felt his stomach grumbling and felt a visit to the bathroom might be in order, and soon. He stomped down the hall, staring at the floor, as he heard that bastard Sanchez's nasally voice in his head again saying. “Willie don't let these guys get you upset.” He'd sounded so sympathetic he had looked up just in time for the slam. “Hell, I know a lot of guys that would love to meet a big chubby bastard like you that swallows. Most faggots spit it out, but you must truly savor the flavor judging from the stains on your shirt uniform.”

  Willie kicked the bathroom door open and stormed in. Two younger deputies laughed and walked out, leaving him alone. He w
ent to the urinal and saw some genius had already thumb tacked a note card on the wall where anyone could see. It read, Pee here, see Willie Dunn for anything extra. God damn you Bo! You sorry sack of shit, I ought to... Willie's ability to think clearly had abandoned him. ”Fuck!” He shouted ripping the note card off the wall, crumpling it into a ball, and throwing it to the floor.

  Turning, he went into the toilet stall and locked the door behind him. As he sat and did his business he contemplated revenge. Unfortunately, Willie had never been gifted with an overabundance of imagination. He contemplated a homicidal rampage, for a few minutes, then realized that it would be a lot of work- plus it would probably hurt when they shot him down. Fifteen minutes later he finished his business and was about to flush the commode when inspiration finally struck. A twinkle came to his eyes. He had a veritable brainstorm of creativity and nodded his head.

  Stifling giggles he unrolled the toilet paper cylinder and filled the toilet bowl until the cardboard tube was all that was left. He flushed the commode and watched in giddy anticipation as it began to overflow and the water spread out over the floor tiles. As the water crept toward his shoes he had a sudden revelation that being in here when it was discovered might not be a good idea and quickly left the bathroom. He climbed the stairs and grinned widely as he approached the candy machine. Sorting through a handful of change he heard from downstairs “Who the fuck did this?”

  The voice was unmistakably that of Earl, the grumpy old janitor. Willie smiled more broadly as he tore the wrapper off his candy bar and walked serenely down the hallway, as a rich tapestry of expletives drifted up from down below.