Valley of Death & Zombies

by William Bebb

  Unfortunately, as he jumped the smoke made him stumble and knock over the can of gasoline. Much later, a fireman said it had been a miracle that the can hadn't detonated like a bomb. Instead of exploding, it poured flaming streams of gasoline that ran downhill toward his parent's house. He watched the flowing small rivers of fire briefly, then ran to get the garden hose. Even if he caught a ride with aliens he didn't want his parents to lose their house.

  He ran for the garden hose and found that it was put away for the winter. Running inside he filled cereal bowls and a large crock pot with water. After several trips spent ineffectually throwing water on the fire which continued to spread toward the garage, he spotted a brilliant white light in the sky moving toward him. The aliens are actually coming, Josey thought, as he jumped up and down waving his arms more frantically. Ignoring the fire he started yelling.

  “I'm down here. Come and pick me up!” He was sorry about his parent’s house, about to catch on fire, yet trembled in anticipation hoping the aliens would look more like Mr. Spock than some gooey green blob. He would probably have gone with either type alien rather than see his dad's reaction to his last report card, he'd hidden under his mattress, or the fire he had started. The life of a fourth grader, who rarely studies, is never an easy one.

  A beam of pure white light shined down from the approaching unidentified flying object and he tensed up hoping the aliens weren't the brain sucking type. A loud voice came down from the sky and Josey smiled up at the bright light. At first he couldn't understand the words drifting down from the UFO. Maybe they don't speak English, he thought. He hadn't considered that possibility. The UFO came closer and the words were at last understandable.

  “Get away from the fire, you jackass!” The voice from the UFO, commanded.

  Josey stepped away from the roaring inferno that had once been his dad's yard, and stood in the road that went past his house. A siren and flashing red lights heralded the arrival of a fire truck and two other emergency vehicles. He looked up at the UFO and hoped they wouldn't fly away without him.

  Within fifteen minutes the fire was extinguished and aside from some paint on the garage that was incinerated, a front yard that was a field of steaming ashes, and his missing eyebrows there was no harm done. Except for young Josey's butt which, after the spankings his dad administered, couldn't sit comfortably in a chair for over a month. Had the police helicopter pilot not noticed the fire when he did not only would his parent's house have been reduced to ashes, but most of the neighborhood as well.

  A scream from outside, attracted Josey's attention back to the present. He watched as two men wrestled. in the dusty road, and considered the possibility the kid was still alive. Boris went with him so there was a chance Billy might be okay. Without the dog going he couldn't have made it very far. Maybe they're already somewhere safe. It would be stupid of me to go chasing after them. I'm no hero. He sighed, and looked at his crowbar.

  Billy considered the long switchback road that headed up and out of the valley, for a long time, as he stared up the hillside. Finally, he decided to find a trail out of the valley and avoid the road altogether. The sun made him feel tired, after just a few minutes of walking, and it had just barely cleared the rim of the valley. Boris walked close to the boy as they followed a path toward the hills.

  While they climbed up the path, he still tasted the gooey cookie remnants that coated his teeth. He felt confident they would make it to the top of the hill within fifteen minutes, maybe less. Following the path, he saw empty soda cans and candy wrappers that someone had thrown away and took comfort in the fact people obviously had used this trail before. Parts of the path were a little steep, yet Boris had no trouble climbing up while Billy had to go a little slower.

  Twenty minutes later, he silently revised his estimate on how long it would take to reach the top. Having only climbed about one fifth of the way up he guessed it might actually take as much as an hour to make it out of the valley. After several minutes they found a path that seemed easier, and climbed for about ten minutes before things got very bad.

  Billy heard Boris growl as he walked toward a patch of bushes. The dog smelled a snake. He couldn't see it but knew it was nearby. He quickly walked in front of the boy and growled his toughest don't mess with us, growl and bared his teeth.

  “What is it?” Billy whispered holding his BB rifle up ready to shoot, but he didn't see any bad guys around. He glanced back down the hill they'd climbed and wondered how any of the zombies could have climbed a hill this steep. They seem as uncoordinated and clumsy as that guy at Aunt Deana's wedding party last month. Mom said he was just some drunk guy after he staggered around and finally fell over some of the flowers and landed in the fish pond. Plus, he hadn't heard any grunts or screams since they'd started climbing.

  The seven foot long rattlesnake had just slithered halfway out of his burrow under the bushes, to soak up some morning sunshine. With half it's body still underground it felt repetitive vibrations coming from down the path. There were two living things there, the snake realized. One smelled of dog, the other of man. It rattled it's tail in warning but it was still deep in the burrow, and flicked it's tongue tasting their smells.

  Billy didn't hear the snake's rattle, but the dog heard it, muted yet still very close by. “Come on, they're waiting for us to go get help, don't be such a cowardly kitten.” he said, walking toward the bushes and the hidden snake. The snake sensed the bigger one moving toward him and, prepared to charge out of the burrow. If snakes had the ability to slither backward it would most definitely have preferred that option. However, given the circumstances it charged. Boris saw the boy walking forward, then the bush moved and a snake quickly slid out it's burrow.

  Josey swallowed three aspirin and tightened his leg bandage.

  “It's suicide. Please don't go out there. You're not a superhero.” Mrs. Remlap begged, as she held a wet cloth to the unconscious old man's forehead.

  “You two just stay here. I'll find Billy and Boris and we'll be back in a little while. I'm pretty sure they went out the backdoor since the front still has a few unfriendly types out there.” He said, picking up his crowbar and starting to open the backdoor.

  “Wait.” With his eyes half open, the old man spoke slowly. “Go look in the back of my closet. In my golf bag, there's something-” He coughed for a few seconds and continued. “...something I think might help you.”

  Josey quickly limped into the back bedroom and looked in the closet, pushing aside a selection of Hawaiian shirts he couldn't begin to imagine the old man ever wearing. He stared at a long dark brown leather coat, with an armband stitched to the sleeve. Why would he have a thing like this? He wondered. Reaching up he felt the thick leather material and smiled as a plan began to form. Pushing aside the heavy coat he looked in the golf bag and noticed a faded red and white leather handle topped with a dull metallic dragon head on the end, sticking up much higher than the other club heads and pulled it out whispering softly “Damn.”

  Phyllis Remlap was holding a wet paper towel on the forehead of the old man sitting in his recliner as she heard footsteps from the hallway. She looked up and felt her denture adhesive threatening to fail again as she stared in, open mouthed, shock.

  She fixed her dentures and spoke. “Josey, what the-” she started, then fell silent. Her eyes widened as she looked up at the large limping man that came down the small hallway. Josey wore a long dark leather coat with a fur neck liner and a black and white Nazi swastika on a red background that had been stitched to the upper sleeve. Pointing her finger at the four and a half foot long silvery sword he carried she could only babble in confusion.

  “I figure the coat might come in handy if they get within biting distance, but hopefully this will help keep the bastards from getting that close.” he said, gently swinging the sword.

  The old man sat up coughing and said softly “Won that sword in a poker game from a major in Hamburg in 1946. Said he took it off a Jap general on Mi
dway. Use it, but be careful it's wicked sharp. As for the coat I think it belonged to some member of Gestapo, but he didn't need it anymore after his head got blown off.” He closed his eyes and said “Be careful son.”

  Mrs. Remlap looked up at Josey, reminding him a little of his grandmother and said “Yes please be careful, and if you can't find him-” He raised his hand in a stop gesture.

  “I'll find him. You two just try not to worry.” he said, slipping quietly out through the backdoor. After Josey heard the door lock, he spotted some tall scrub grass that had been flattened heading north toward the park's exit. He carried his crowbar in his left hand and the sword in his right looking carefully for anyone. Sweat began to flow over his skin under the heavy coat. He ignored it, moving as fast as he dared looking for the boy and dog.

  Boris's first impulse was to turn tail and run. He knew snakes were dangerous and had always run away from them before. Watching it coming out of the bushes he had involuntarily backed up a step. Boris realized the boy still hadn't seen the snake and was in fact looking back impatiently calling for him.

  Venom coated the snake's fangs as it shot from its burrow. It was rushing straight for the little boy's exposed ankles, while he looked over his shoulder at the scared dog. It moved with incredible speed, just a long brown blur in the early morning dust, when something slammed down on it's head. Dazed, the snake all seven feet of him now completely out the burrow shook it's rattle and began swirling back coiling itself up.

  Billy was still looking at the dog in contempt. “What is your problem? Do you want to take a break?” He asked, in a disgusted tone of voice. Taking off his backpack he slammed it down without looking. The bag wasn't extremely heavy, yet it still weighed enough to confuse and frighten the snake when it landed on its head.

  Boris came up and stood next to the boy. His whole body trembled as he barked at the snake. Billy heard the rattle and had seen enough cowboy movies with grandpa to know it was a bad situation, maybe even worse than a pack of hungry zombies.

  He remembered during his last visit, when no monsters roamed the Albuquerque Springs Trailer Park, how he and grandpa had been watching a movie starring John Wayne- the undisputed King of the cowboys. Why people called him The Duke, when he was obviously the king always had confused him. He had loved almost every minute of the movie except for the part where a pretty girl was thrown into a pit full of snakes by a bad guy. At that point he ran out of the living room, into his bedroom, and grabbed his stuffed toy raccoon named Ricky. Eventually, he came back in the living room and watched the end of the movie. It was very cool, but under the circumstances he was barely able to remember how to breath let alone the name of the movie.

  The snake was coiled up only a few feet away, bobbing and weaving it's head, uncertain which one to strike. It's eyes flicked back and forth as it watched the boy and dog. Feeling a warm stream of urine, leaking down his leg inside his pants Billy again realized coming out here looking for help was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his entire life.

  He tried to be brave remembering what his grandpa told him, last summer, after he told him about having gotten beat up at school. Bullies only get braver when you look or act afraid. You've got to act brave if nothing else. Act brave and before you know it, you are brave, and then no bully on Earth can get the best of you.

  Hoping the advice applied to snakes, as well as bullies, he kept his eyes closed and tried to imagine he was John Wayne. In his mind he was a short much younger John Wayne to be sure, but he felt much braver nonetheless. Lifting his BB rifle, as he opened his eyes, he was no longer a little boy who just peed his pants, he was the King of the cowboys, The Duke.

  Josey walked slowly following a trail he hoped was Billy's. After skirting around an obvious undead man stuck upside down in a ditch, with ripped and torn skinless legs still that still twitched slightly in the air, he stepped through a gap in a brick retaining wall and stopped in the shade of a trailer to wipe away the sweat from his face. He saw a large pile of beer cans and stepped carefully through their midst trying to be as quiet as possible. Looking into the distance then checking the way he had just come he saw no one. A splashing sound made him scratch his head in confusion.

  Spotting the uncovered well, he carefully stepped over a rusty chain that surrounded it and bent over looking through the splintered boards into the darkness below. He decided to take a chance and leaned down lower whispering “Billy, hey Billy are you down there?”

  A series of splashes came from below and some sounds that might be a dog in trouble.

  “'Boris is that you down there?” He asked, reaching into a pocket for his mini flashlight. There were two men, about twenty feet below, in muddy water mixed up with bits of broken wood snarling up at him and scratching at the sides of the well, trying to climb up.

  Still bent over, Josey spit in the well and started to stand upright when he heard a scream and running feet. He tried to turn around, but was slammed from behind and knocked off balance. The heavy crowbar fell from his hand, rattled against the lip of the well, and fell with a splash accompanied by more grunts from below. With no time to think, he stepped across the mouth of the well with his left leg to keep from falling in. Badly off balance, someone climbed on his back and he ended up straddling the hole. His legs were spread wide, across the open well, while the man he couldn't see clawed at his back.

  A long haired man with a ponytail, wore the bloody remnants of a restaurant uniform with a name tag that read Rafael. Rafael held a sharp sixteen inch long meat fork, normally used for bar-b-queuing in one hand and had wrapped his legs around Josey's waist from behind in the classic piggy back ride position. Unlike many of the other screamers, he had retained a sizable portion of his reasoning ability and had been silently stalking Josey since he had crossed the ditch waiting for the best moment to attack. Deciding the time for silence was over he screamed as he stabbed at Josey with the meat fork and clawed at his coat with the other hand.

  The man on his back made keeping his balance nearly impossible and Josey felt his bad knee throb as he tried to think. He felt something sharp stab him in his shoulder, and joined the screamer as he howled in pain. Their screams were joined by a loud series of grunts echoing up from the bottom of the well. Unable to think of anything better to do, he fell backward and felt the sharp thing pulled back out of his shoulder. Because Rafael had his legs clenched around Josey's waist he couldn't let go and grunted loudly as the big man landed on top of him. Having been in many bar fights, Josey trusted to experience and used his elbows to gut punch the man under him a few times then rolled off and got up quickly.

  Rafael still clutched the bloody meat fork, but between having been crushed under Josey’s two hundred and eighty pound body and the gut punches he felt stunned and was moving considerably slower.

  Josey felt his knee aching, and wished he hadn't dropped the crowbar, as he limped forward intent on slicing the madman's head from his shoulders. Lifting the sword over his head he felt his wounded shoulder throb in pain, ignored it, and swung down doing his best imitation of a Samurai warrior.

  If Rafael had stayed still a moment longer the fight would have been over, but he had caught his breath and jumped as the blade was on it's down stroke. Instead of decapitating him he merely sliced off his long ponytail which now laid in the dirt. Unlike most customers of a barber who did a bad job cutting their hair Rafael stabbed Josey while jumping into a crouching position. The sharp metal prongs pierced Josey's knee length coat and went into his upper thigh.

  “Cuntpissmotherfuckingshitforbrains!” Josey yelled, and swung the sword even before the fork was removed from his leg. The sword sliced him across the neck, yet the swing wasn't nearly forceful enough to sever the head from his body. Josey felt the fork still embedded in his trembling leg. Bright red blood flowed in a torrent from Rafael's neck as he uttered a gurgling scream and staggered after him.

  He swung the sword again, but Rafael raised his arm in a partially su
ccessful attempt at self defense. At the cost of having his left arm severed, he managed to get close enough to grab the meat fork and try to knock him down. Had he not been weakened from his severe wounds, it might have worked too. However as Josey saw him grab the fork in his leg, he took the opportunity to slice off his other arm at the shoulder. Rafael was effectively disarmed with his shirt now soaked in blood from the neck wound. He fell to his knees and continued to growl weakly, as he looked up at Josey, with his mouth open and a dazed look in his eyes.

  Remembering a scene from one of his favorite Monty Python movies Josey couldn't resist, smiling down on the armless ex fast food worker, saying “You are indeed brave sir knight, but the fight is mine.”

  Rafael growled weakly and inched closer to Josey.

  “Look! You stupid bastard you've got no arms left.”

  Apparently tired of running lines from the black knight scene, from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Rafael fell face down in the dirt and laid still.

  “And take this, before you get a chance to come back from the dead and try to bite my legs off.” Josey said, slicing smoothly through his neck.

  After wiping the blade off on the headless body's pants, to remove as much blood as he could, he saw the eyes in Rafael’s head open and stare at him. Josey picked up a stick and knocked the head into the well. If this were a wishing well, I'd wish to find Billy and Boris unhurt. He thought, looking around for any signs of them.