by Mark Tufo
I moved slowly but methodically away from the house. My fear level increased as I got to the edges of the horde. A zombie moving away from a food source would be certain to arouse suspicions. One foot away, I kept moving, now five feet. When I hit that twenty-foot threshold, I told myself, I should have felt safe, yet I couldn’t get rid of the nagging suspicion that someone had eyes on me. Maybe the only reason I was still alive was that whoever it was, was just curious to see what I was doing. That’s fine; the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” came about from real life situations. I’d do my best to reiterate the point. I got across the street and to one of the neighbor’s houses. I was breathing heavily.
“That was intense.”
“Just let her kill us, then we can all be free.”
“Put down whatever defense you have going on, Scarlett, and I’ll gladly end you now. I’ve found Yorley, my need for you has come to a conclusion.”
“On one level, Tim, I’d just about welcome that. To be away from something so vile would be a relief. Going to have to pass though; when we die, I am going to make sure it is together. I will not leave this world knowing you are still in it, spreading your rot.”
“I’ll make it painless.” I snorted. “Sorry, sorry. I know you saw that for a lie. Couldn’t help myself. Killing you would nearly be as good as killing Yorley, and I would stretch it out for days if I could, bringing you to the brink before I revived you. I think I’d start by ripping all of your extremities out of their sockets. I’ve seen guys on the football field, huge tough guys reduced to blubbering babies with one separated shoulder. I cannot imagine the pain that would be shooting through you with both of yours out of whack and both sides of your hips displaced. That would be fucking miserable. Plus, once you’ve popped one, it’s much easier to keep doing so. After a while, I’d pop them back in, let you rest for a minute before starting all over. I’m not sure if someone can die from pain outright, but we’d give it the old college try, me and you. Now, I need you to shut up for a while so I can find what I need to get into that house.”
“A ladder? What do you need a ladder for?” she asked.
“You can’t really be that stupid, can you? Oh wait.” I slapped my hand against my forehead. “You are a woman. It must be hard to be at such a disadvantage right from birth. Good thing the government has the disability act that helps those like you with severe limitations.”
Scarlett was fuming. I could almost see her like those cartoon characters when their faces turn red and their heads blow off into a small mushroom cloud.
“Since the concept of a ladder is apparently a little too much for your miniscule mind, I’m going to explain it to you. I’m going to place it up against the house, and then some very industrious zombies are going to climb it. They are going to enter the house and cause all sorts of chaos, mayhem, and death, and when things are really looking bleak within those walls, I’m going to saunter on in and claim my due. So, are we on the same page now?”
Didn’t take me long to find a nice twenty footer. This was suburbia. Pretty sure these were standard issue with a house. The trick was going to be walking back over to the party with it. Easy enough to blend in when you’re a regular old zombie, but one carrying a climbing device, or in this case a siege machine, well, that tended to change things. I had the lack of light going for me, but if my Yorley was using any type of night vision, I could be in trouble. I had actually said “fuck it” in my head. I’d opened the garage door, picked up the aluminum ladder, and was halfway down the driveway when I began to think just how odd this would look. Manny had no problem getting a couple of his lackeys to come on over. Zombies had been getting smarter since the beginning. Not these two though; seemed they kept calling in to work when the bosses were handing out the clever cards.
Thick and Thicker could not grasp the concept of carrying no matter how many times Manny tried to explain it. I got sick of listening to their insect squelching and just plopped it over their heads. The ladder rested nicely on their shoulders. Only had to readjust once, as Thicker was a little faster than his counterpart and had completely pulled his slow friend down, the ladder making all a clatter, as only one can. Maybe the people in that house couldn’t see what was happening, but they sure heard that. Had to think that it put the fear of Dios into them. Some shots blasted out from the house, sort of in the direction of the ladder bearers but far enough away I was confident Yorley had not the time to raid a sporting goods store. Although one look at her, and I would have figured she had a drawer full of the starlight gathering devices. Right next to her thermos-sized dildos, hand axe and Western novels.
“You can try and disparage her all you want. Doesn’t make her any less dangerous, you misogynist douche,” Scarlett said.
“I don’t know what me-so-horniest means, but I can’t figure you meant it in a good way. I don’t really care what she does to get her rocks off; I just need for her to be dead by the end of this night, and demeaning her, well that just makes it that much more fun.”
“What a sad, small man you must have been.”
“Small? Did you say small? I was fucking huge once! I just oozed menace. People went out of their way to avoid me! I could do whatever I wanted, to whomever I wanted, it was grand!”
“If this were a debate, the more you talked, the better my score would be.”
She was pissing me off to no end. I had to clear my head of Scarlett and soon. She just needed to stay around a little longer so she could watch me eat Yorley and the kids. I was going to crush her spirit under the heel of my boot before she was evicted from this life. That was without a doubt the last thing I wanted her to witness. With Manny on my side, there really shouldn’t be any way she would be able to stay. I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a small part of me that was frightened that she could possibly withstand our combined assault. If that were the case, it would stand to reason that at some point, she could force us out and that just wouldn’t do. If she somehow did win the upcoming battle, it would be after I destroyed everything she loved.
Thicker had once again pulled Thick over. He’d wandered off to the far side of the house still dragging the ladder behind him. At least until other zombies started stepping on the back furthest rungs, pulling him over as well. He became trapped underneath, zombies were stepping on and over him doing their best to make him fertilizer for the lawn.
“Do you really think your paltry attempts at diversion are going to somehow make me forget my plan? I’m not blond,” I told her as she was humming some boy band song, and horribly I might add.
Before I knew it, could stop it, or more importantly, figure out how to prevent it, Scarlett screamed and not internally.
“Yorley! Ladder!” I slammed my mouth shut so violently, I sheared one of her front teeth in half. The bony fragment hung suspended midway down our throat, which had gone as dry as a whisky bottle in my father’s hands.
“Aren’t you a tricky little bitch. Should have known there’d be no way I could keep a woman quiet. Shutting up just isn’t in your gender’s vocabulary. What do you think she’s going to do with that information, Scarlett? She can’t see her hand in front of her face right now. The next thing she will see, though, will be your smiling face as you descend down on her. Oh fuck, the look she’s going to give will be priceless. That’s one I’m going to savor for a good long time. So you let her know the end is coming. Big deal.”
“You see it your way, I see it mine. She’s going to be able to tell that was my voice that called out to warn her. She knows I turned into a zombie and that I went after you. I’m now among zombies and not getting attacked, how long do you figure before she puts all the pieces together? Right now, she’s probably whispering your name.”
And like the fucking two somehow had this all figured out, choreographed even.
“Tim-Tim, is that you, my little bandejo?”
A spike of fear lodged in the small of my back and slowly spread its feelings of heavy dread up my spine
and pressed heavily on my shoulders. They sagged under the weight. Scarlett was laughing and clapping her hands. She looked like a psychotic seven-year-old. I said nothing, tried to not even think of anything. My thoughts would have betrayed me, as I pondered just leaving. Walking away from this show-down. I could live virtually forever, the earth and the remaining inhabitants left ripe for the taking. Why then? Why was this damn one so important to me?
“If you had balls, Tim, I think they’d be in your throat right now!” Scarlett was giggling.
She was going for the “kick ’em while they’re down” mentality. I got that, understood it completely as a matter of fact. Considering how many times I’d employed it, it’s not really all that surprising. Angered me more than anything that I was the one down, that somehow these two women thought they could in some way keep ME, ME, down; it was beyond infuriating.
“You know what, bitch? At first, I was just going to eat your little bastard children, Yorley included. Now though? Not so much. I’m going to prolong their misery for an eternity. I’m going to lord over them like a despot king!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” It was now Scarlett’s turn to be nervous.
“One bite, my dear. That’s all I have to do. Part of me and Manny will then be in anyone we choose. And those special people, well I’m not going to eat them, I’m going to keep them as pets. Kind of like you. Us four will be together forever, hunting, eating, and being a family. It will be wonderful. I’ll be your overlord, dictating everything that we do, but other than that, Scarlett, you’ll have your family back.”
“I’d rather they were dead than have the stigma of you on them!”
“I know you would, Scarlett, that’s the only reason I’m going to do this. Every day, you will get to look at your kids and wish you could help them or put them out of their misery. You will be unable to do anything, as I torture them mercilessly. This is … this is incredible. I’d first thought eating them would be the ultimate way to screw with you. That didn’t even scratch the surface to what I’ve got planned now, being that they’ll be zombies soon. I can have you watch as I have them injured in all manner of new and unusual ways. What are you going to do when I snap little Johnny’s femur with a baseball bat? Maybe cut off a limb? Naw, I’ll start off small. Tips of their fingers first, then I’ll work my way down, mutilating your kids a little more every day until they become virtually unrecognizable. Oh, I’ve got to think that would be a mother’s worst nightmare. You’re not going to believe the things I’ll be able to get away with because they’ll be zombies! I can put other faces on them! Maybe I’ll graph parts of different animals on them! Yeah, I’ll cover their faces with rat tails or something! Holy shit, this will be like having real Mr. Potato heads! Now you’re quiet? Are we not having fucking fun anymore?” I screamed as Scarlett jumped back. “I cannot for the life of me figure out how you thought poking me was a good idea.”
I was physically pushing zombies away from the ladder when it would have been so much easier to do so through our mental link. I needed the roughness of this encounter, not some stupid finesse. The problem, though, was the zombies gave not one shit I was pushing them around and sometimes over, space permitting. I’d encountered nearly thirty of them and I was still no closer to getting the ladder off of the ground. I finally had to get Manny involved. I won’t swear to it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Scarlett was silently celebrating what she perceived as my impotence. All the time I spent genuflecting and talking to Scarlett was wasted time. It brought me no closer to the success I craved. If anything, it brought me closer to my demise. As soon as it became light out, Yorley would make it a point to look for Scarlett and take us out. I entertained the thought of shaving all of her ginger locks off but was fearful I’d again waste massive amounts of time. The ladder was free; it was now time to go into action.
I picked up the ladder, the guide rope wheel lightly bumped into the rung it was attached to. Within half a heartbeat, a shot blew a hole in the ground not more than a foot from me. I thought I was going to swallow my tongue, I held my breath with such force.
“Did I get you Tim-Tim? You’re being really quiet! I would rather you were really dead, but we work with what we have.”
That she didn’t just begin to spray that area with bullets told me that they were dangerously low on ammunition. She fucking knew pretty much where I was, and if she could have afforded to just let loose a hundred rounds or so, one would have eventually found its mark. I was stuck. Moving an aluminum ladder without making noise is an impossibility. I told Manny what I needed him to do. It wasn’t a normal thing for zombies, but they could push this ghostly mournful sound across their voice box that was very moan-like in its qualities. It wasn’t much individually, but when a few hundred were doing it, it became a chorus, easily loud enough to mask my movements.
“Well, don’t you just have a bag of tricks up your sleeve? Wouldn’t expect anything less from a fucking has-been clown, I suppose.”
“I’ll show you clown.” The ladder banged against the house. Even with my choir going at full throttle, it could not hide that. I jumped back before she could zero in a shot.
“Come on up! Drinks are on me, Tim-Tim!”
She had not yet shot; I was so angry I could about spit flames. I moved quickly back to the ladder and grabbed the sides, my foot hovering in mid-air as I was about to place it on a step. Without thinking about it, I was going to go up, which would have ended with me falling through the air, a neat hole drilled in the middle of my forehead.
“That was close.” I stepped back from the ladder, hands still raised as if the object itself were electrified and I just missed being electrocuted by scant inches. Manny had a way of telling which zombies would have the smarts available to them to be able to grasp the difficult concept of moving their extremities in unison to achieve ascension. Within a few minutes, there were close to thirty zombies staring at us in a loose semi-circle. Some looked like they were on the cusp of having some mind power. The others, they had predatory looks, they knew what was going on and they wanted in. I couldn’t help but notice we were sending the brightest to die. Morally, it didn’t bother me at all. You’ve got to have a conscience for something to affect you, and that has never been a problem for me. Just a strange observation: Without a doubt, they were all going to die, but it had to be done and they were the only ones capable of doing it.
The first zombie was already halfway up, the second just starting to climb when Yorley had apparently heard enough. I was already on the move. While the defenders were busy with the ladder, I was going in through the basement. It would be my only chance. I went to the far side of the house and waited a moment for a heavy volley of bullets before smashing out the glass of the small window. I moved back, more than expecting gunfire to erupt here as well. Nothing. Either this person was cut from the same cloth as Yorley, it was Yorley, or better yet, no one was there. I wriggled my way in backward, my legs dangling in the basement as they sought something to stand on. Finally, I had to jump down. I turned quickly, still expecting an attack that did not come. I looked up to the window. My Tim-self, and certainly my Clarence-self, would have never made it through that sliver of an opening. Even Scarlett’s lithe form barely made it through, there would be no reason to think this was likely going to be a zombie ingress. Worth manning a guard, but not anyone with any high degree of ability.
“This is where you stuck your stupid cousin, isn’t it, Yorley? Idiot is probably eating a fucking carton of Pop-Tarts right now on the shitter.” The gunshots above me were muffled by two floors of wood and insulation, but it got momentarily louder as a door was opened. A sliver of light illuminated the stairs and was out before a small candle flame was lit.
“Don’t leave your post, she says. Have to be constantly vigilant, she says. Who the fuck made her the boss? I’m a man; I’m supposed to be running things.”
There was a reason why this one had been banished to the basement. Late thi
rties, early forties, he looked like a big fan of churros and cerveza. An oversized stomach hung over his too small pants. This was a heavy beer drinker who had long ago passed over into the realm of alcoholism. The large gut and the chicken thin legs were a dead giveaway. I’d seen it enough times in my youth. My dad’s friends all seemed to have this body type proclivity, as if somehow the muscle and tissue were pulled up from the legs and redistributed around their mid-sections. They looked like a bunch of proud turkeys strutting around in the back yard, all glad handing each other on their past deeds. Fucking douche bags. White, Hispanic, didn’t matter. I moved closer while he was still grumbling about not getting any respect.
“The day will come when she’ll grovel at my feet. She’ll beg for my forgiveness.” He’d got all the way down the stairs. His candle flame had still not yet touched me as I stayed frozen in the middle of the room. He might be a dimwitted drunk, but he was carrying a pistol, roughly the size of a loaf of bread. Don’t have to be a skinny rocket scientist to pull a trigger. I about lost my shit when he turned and placed the gun down on the stairs. He bent over and opened a small door, where he reached in all the way up to his shoulder. He came out with a large bottle of a brown liquid I’m sure was some cheap ass brand of whisky, the kind that had just enough quality control to not be considered paint thinner.
“I’ll show her, yeah I will.” He unscrewed the cap and took a large swig of the liquid.
My nose twitched at the astringent smell of the booze. He moved a few feet away and deposited himself into an old La-Z-Boy chair that had cigarette burn holes up and down both arms. I moved closer to the gun he’d left behind just as he was dipping his head down—he was lighting a cigarette with the candle. He took a large toke, coughed twice, then took a heavy swig from the bottle. He belched, shifted to the side, and let off a large fart. It was when he started to wriggle back and forth I got curious. He was pulling his pants down, for a second, I thought he was going to take a shit on the chair, that maybe it was some sort of modified port-a-potty. When he grabbed his dick, that was about when I’d had enough.
