Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!)

by Tatner, Joseph

  And Floyd had to admit, she was an excellent shot and pretty good with other weaponry, too. She was street smart and wise well beyond her years. She had saved his life. Of course, it was Mikki who had put his life in jeopardy in the first place. She did have good instincts when a plan went wrong, but it was more than likely her fault the plan went wrong. Yes, she had good instincts, but she was stubborn, didn’t listen, thought she knew it all, and often acted without thinking. She was reckless and deliberately blind to the reality of how bad things could be.

  But then again, Floyd couldn’t blame her for living in denial. She was just a teenager of however-many-years-old thrust into a world dominated by the living dead. If that wasn’t a reason to retreat into a world of butterflies and rainbows—or Hello Kitty with a carving knife—Floyd didn’t know what was. In the end, he figured it just all boiled down to immaturity. Mikki would blossom into a smart, tough, beautiful, competent woman one day—if she survived long enough.

  Suddenly, it dawned on Floyd that she had survived. He wasn’t the only one, and she wasn’t the only one! That meant there had to be others out there who had also beaten all the odds. Maybe New California Haven was real, after all? Maybe that radio signal wasn’t just a prerecorded loop, endlessly broadcasting long after everyone had died.

  The zombies had the advantage, though. They didn’t have to eat, sleep, or fight to stay alive. Humans did. And no matter what humans did, they would die anyway. Hopefully, a natural death that didn’t turn them into creeping horrors.

  Shit! Humans had to worry about undead animals as well. Insects seemed to be immune, because many of them had died out, disappearing from the planet. Insects didn’t turn zombie, but could they carry and spread the infection? If cockroaches had been able to carry the infection, no living thing on earth would have been safe. But cockroaches don’t bite, so how would we know?

  The one advantage humans had was the ability to reproduce, but who wanted to raise a baby in a world fulla zombies? It takes a long time to grow a human. On the other hand, every dead zombie was one less to worry about. If humans could just avoid being bitten while blowing away the undead, eventually the Human Race would win out, but the sheer number of zombies was daunting. No doubt a bunch of scientists somewhere deep in some super-secret lab were working on a vaccine or something to prevent the infection from a zombie bite, but it had been more than two years already and there was no sign of help from anyone yet.

  Still, Floyd was alive. Mikki was alive. There had to be other people alive, too. There just had to be. That meant there was hope. However small, there was hope. Floyd clung to that thought as he curled up in the driver’s seat and faded off to sleep, praying he would wake up still human in the morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  Floyd felt something stir next to him as he lay sleeping. He felt something trace its way up his arm but he brushed it away, desperately clinging to sleep. Something foul assaulted his sense of smell, but he chose to ignore it.

  This wasn’t like Floyd. Usually, he woke at the slightest touch, sound or smell. He knew something was wrong in his foggy brain but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Then he remembered Mikki.

  That’s right! He wasn’t alone anymore. He had picked up Mikki. She was sleeping in the cab next to him. Strange girl, that Mikki. Now she was tossing and turning and moaning in her sleep. He wanted to nudge her or wake her but he was too tired and didn’t want to open his eyes.

  Unfortunately, her moaning got louder and her twitching got more annoying until Floyd couldn’t take it anymore. “Dammit, Mikki! Quiet down, will ya?” he said groggily, peering over at her with sleepy eyes.

  Suddenly, Floyd was wide awake. He understood the twitching and moaning the instant he looked into her eyes. Or what was left of them. There was no light in those eyes. They were covered in some white, gooey film. Her breath stank of the dead and she was devoid of all humanity. Her teeth were dirty, broken and jagged, and her skin was gray with a greenish tint. Even her tits didn’t look so good anymore. They were kind of saggy.

  Floyd desperately grabbed for the pistols in his belt, but it was too late. There was no room in the cab. There was nowhere to go. He couldn’t find the door handle as Mikki lunged at him, throwing her undead arms around him. His left hand finally found the driver side door handle just as Mikki sunk her teeth into his exposed, open neck. He closed his eyes and screamed.

  Floyd opened his eyes and saw Mikki’s face in front of him. Her hands were on his shoulders shaking him. He screamed again. Then Mikki screamed. Then they both sat there screaming at each other in unison. Then she slapped him.

  “Goddammit, Floyd! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  He was too terrified to look, but Floyd’s eyes finally focused on Mikki’s face. Her eyes were clear. Here teeth were clean and white. Even her tits looked good (OK, they looked great, actually). She was fine!

  “Holy shit! It was a dream!” he finally mumbled.

  “Damn, Floyd! You scared the crap outta me!”

  “Scared the crap outta myself!”

  They both started laughing together.

  “Welcome to the Hotel California…” Mikki sang.

  “Such a lovely place,” Floyd sang.

  They both broke out into hysterical laughter again for no reason. It was early in the morning but the sun was up. Floyd pulled out his map book. There was another little town ahead of them about 20 miles down the road. Might as well check it out. He repacked his motion detectors, jumped in the cab, fired up the engine, and they were on their way again.

  “Zombie cake?” Mikki asked.

  “Say what, now?”

  “Zombie cake! Guaranteed to survive a nuclear war or the Zombie Apocalypse. Individually wrapped cream-filled golden sponge cakes. Otherwise known as ‘Twinkies.’ Sweetest comeback in the history of ever. I got a box of ‘em the last time I went shopping.”

  Floyd burst out laughing as he took the Twinkie. “Sure, why not? You really are somethin’ else, you know that?”

  “I woulda been something else, if you hadn’t saved me. Thanks, Floyd.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  “No, really Floyd. Thank you. You coulda just blown my head off. I wouldn’t blame you. But you didn’t. You took a chance on me. Ain’t nobody never done nothin’ like that for me before in my whole life.”

  “Really? And how many times you been bitten by a zombie before in your whole life?”

  “Hey, I’m tryin’ to be serious here. Thank you, goddammit! OK?”

  “OK! OK! I know. Just remember that little trick if it ever happens to me. Or blow my head off. Either way works. Besides, I’m thinkin’ of a new plan.”

  Mikki got excited. “Ooh! Really? Do tell!”

  “Well, I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I’m workin’ on something. Goin’ through a lot of ideas in my head. Believe me, once I get it sorted out, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Shit, I’ll be the only one to know. Just the two of us left in the whole damn world, Floyd,” she observed grimly.

  “See? That’s one of the things I been thinkin’ about. We can’t be the only ones. If we survived this long working with scraps, there have to be others out there better equipped than us who’ve made it.”

  “I don’t know, Floyd. Them army guys was pretty well stocked and they didn’t stand a chance.”

  “They were trained to fight people, not zombie bats. They probably never even realized what was happening before it was all over. Who the hell would ever think of such a thing?”

  “After all I seen, I would.”

  “Exactly! So would I. Most people couldn’t wrap their minds around what happened to the world, but we adapted and we survived. There have to be others. We need to find them. Help keep each other safe.”

  “If you say so Floyd,” Mikki answered, unconvinced. “Hell, it’s your truck. You drive. It ain’t like I got anywhere else to be at the moment.”

  “Right.” />
  Floyd kept thinking out loud as he drove. “We’re gonna keep running into zombie bats and cats and other creepy-ass undead things. We need better protection than what we have now. And you sure as hell gotta cover up some of that skin.”

  “Why, Floyd?” Mikki purred seductively. “Does my body make you…uncomfortable? A big strong man like you?” She jiggled her tits left and right, the form of her nipples clearly visible in the soft cotton of her T-shirt.

  Floyd looked at her briefly, then quickly turned away, flustered, with his face beet red.

  “Whatsa matter Floyd? You don’t like girls?” Mikki busted out laughing. “Damn, Floyd! You should see your face! I’m just messin’ with ya. Geez!”

  “Well, either way, we gotta cover you up. You won’t look so good if some zombie gets a bite into you—again.”

  That sobered Mikki up pretty quickly. She left Floyd to his thoughts in silence as she watched the scenery go by her window.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Floyd sat looking through his binoculars, perched atop a freeway overpass. He pointed to a building in the town below and handed the binoculars to Mikki. One look and she knew immediately what he was referring to. The sign outside the store said, “Gregory’s Guns.”

  She smiled at Floyd and continued surveying the area. Something was definitely not right. “Looks like someone beat us here,” she said eventually.

  “Yeah, but when?” This was more of a big town or small city, and it was filled with dead bodies—undead dead bodies. Piles of wrecked cars filled the streets and more than a couple of fire hydrants had been knocked over, sending geysers of water into the air. Neither Floyd nor Mikki could see any sign of movement anywhere and the air was deathly quiet, save for the sound of water trickling down the streets into the sewer grates.

  Time to suit up. Floyd put on all his protective gear over his red flannel shirt and battered black jeans. Mikki just grabbed her football helmet, a couple of pistols, several spare clips, and Lucy. She buckled a wicked machete around her waist, the blade ready to be pulled on a moment’s notice. Floyd carried his usual weapons and Ol’ Faithful, and then grabbed four grenades, which he hung in strategic places around his belt. Mikki grabbed four for herself and hung them right on the waistband of her cutoff shorts. Floyd thought of offering her an old jumpsuit he had in the back, but it was too thin to offer any real protection.

  As they moved up the street, they saw that windows in all the shops had been broken. Everything of value seemed to have been taken. They peered into cars and shop windows with shotguns at the ready.

  “Damn,” said Mikki, eventually, eyeing the ruins.

  “Double damn,” said Floyd.

  They made it to the gun shop. None of the windows were broken, but the door was unlocked, so they went in and inspected it thoroughly.

  Someone human had obviously been there before. There were no guns in any of the display cases, which were all smashed. Some boxes of ammunition were left, but they were all of the .22 caliber short or .22 long rifle variety. Fairly useless for killing zombies, and there was nothing that would fit any of the weapons they currently carried. Floyd went to the back and Mikki went behind the main counter.

  “Floyd!”

  He came over to see what she was pointing at. The man on the floor couldn’t have been dead for more than a week, but he was human when he died. He had been shot in the head and there was dried blood everywhere. Zombies didn’t bleed.

  Mikki leaned down over the body. When she looked up, she noticed something…a button under the counter. Just for the hell of it, she pushed it.

  Floyd and Mikki both jumped when they heard a soft click and a light appeared through a crack in the back wall! Before they could move, the light disappeared as the secret door slammed shut.

  “What the hell?” Floyd whispered to Mikki, “When I get into position, push that button again.”

  Mikki nodded and Floyd made his way silently to the wall. Floyd grabbed the empty shelves to act as a handle and nodded to Mikki. As soon as he heard the click, he pulled the door with all his might. There was resistance at first, but it soon gave way and opened wide. Floyd stumbled into a rather large, brightly lit room to find himself staring down the barrel of a machine gun.

  “Mister, you done made the biggest mistake of your life!” came an unfamiliar voice.

  “Drop it, old man!” Mikki yelled from the doorway, Lucy trained on the stranger’s head. He was short and chubby, wearing an old green camouflage T-shirt, dirty jeans and tennis shoes. What little white hair he had left on his bulbous head was sticking out in every direction. As he spoke, Mikki could see he had maybe five dirty teeth in his mouth, none of them next to each other. The man kept his aim on Floyd as his eyes darted between him and Mikki, obviously trying to decide what to do next.

  Floyd put up his hands. “We don’t want no trouble, Mister. We didn’t know you was in here, honest. Mikki, lower your gun.”

  “Are you crazy? I lower my gun and he’ll pop you in the head!”

  “If he pops me in the head, you can shoot him! For now, just lower your goddam gun!”

  “Screw you! I lower my gun, and maybe he’ll pop me in the head!”

  “Goddammit, Mikki! Why can’t you ever do anything I tell you to?

  “Tell me to do something that ain’t stupid and I’ll do it!”

  The two started yelling at the same time as their eyes jumped between the old man and each other. After a minute of this, the old man busted out laughing and lowered his weapon.

  “Damn!” he said, “You two always argue like this? You sound like me and my ex-wife!” Then he said to Mikki. “You can drop the shotgun, girlie. If I had wanted to shoot you, I woulda done it by now. And I reckon you all woulda done the same, iffen you wanted to. Name’s Zeke. Welcome to Groverstown.”

  He held his hand out to Mikki. She wouldn’t take it, but Floyd did. He shook the old man’s hand and said, “I’m Floyd. This is Mikki. So what are you doing here? We found a man dead outside behind the counter. You know him?”

  “That’d be Mr. Gregory. Good man. I worked for him for 30 years, designing ‘special’ items for his customers, including government types. Some raiders came in and killed him about a week ago. I been too scared to come out since.”

  “How long you been in here?” Floyd asked.

  “Hard to tell. Quite a while. We heard on the news about some kinda attack of the living dead. The newsman thought it was a joke. We all did. We realized is waren’t no joke when we heard a big ruckus out in the street.

  “Cars started crashing into each other. People ran scared. A few started looting, so we closed the shutters outside. Just as we shut the door and locked it, we saw the first one. All crazy looking, with dead eyes. Tried to bite us through the glass. But that ain’t no ordinary glass. And the bars on the door woulda kept him out, anyway.

  “We just stood there, not knowing what to do. Like watching a train wreck or a TV show that’s so bad, you can’t take your eyes off it. Except it all was happening right outside our window. And that damn thing just kept standing there, lookin’ at us, trying to beat its way through the door. Beat the door so bad that one of its arms broke and damn near fell off. It was so stupid, it just kept banging on the door with the other arm and trying to bite the glass.

  “So Mr. Gregory and me hid out in the back room. It was plenty stocked with food, just in case of an emergency. We never dreamed it would be this kind of emergency. As you can see, we got electricity. And there’s a shower and toilet in the back. Nice clean water.

  “Anyways, after a couple of days, the TV went out. No signal. Didn’t know if one of those things had screwed the antenna on the roof or if the local TV station was out. After a few more days, the local radio died, too. News reports only came in from stations far away. Kept hearing how the government was taking care of the situation and to stay put, safe in our homes. But one by one, all the stations went silent.

  “Hmph! Shit! No place was s
afe, apparently. Except locked in here.”

  “So how did Mr. Gregory end up out there, then, if y’all were both safe in here?” Mikki asked, Lucy finally tucked safely under her arm.

  “About a week ago, we saw movement on the security cam. You can see over there,” he pointed to a console with several screens in the corner. “We saw well-armed people shootin’ up the walking dead. Maybe about 20 of ‘em, all wearing gray jumpsuits and helmets with facemasks. Mr. Gregory figured it was the government come to rescue us. I told him he was a damn fool and don’t go out there, but he wouldn’t listen. After bein’ cooped up in here for so long, he was a little stir crazy. He went outside, opened the door and waved at the people.

  “About three of them came inside with him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw the fear in Mr. Gregory’s eyes as they were talking to him. I was fixin’ to head out there to help, but it was too late. One of the men shot him in the head. Came outta nowhere. Just, BOOM, and he was dead. They started smashing all the cases and taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. Guns, ammo, everything. So, I just stayed put.

  “I watched the whole thing on that screen,” he said sadly. “He was a good man. Didn’t deserve to go out that way. Shot like a damn dog in his own store. Sons of bitches! Now you know why I got so spooked when you showed up wearing that black facemask. Then I saw her, and I figured she didn’t fit the profile. I knew you was different.”

  “Why haven’t you ever left this room?” Floyd asked.

  “Me? I like solitude. Had enough of people after living with my ex-wife, so this was my home long before the…whatever it was…happened. Slept here more than once rather than try to head home. Besides,” he lifted the trouser of his right leg, revealing a metal shaft that ran from an artificial knee socket into a tennis shoe. “Bum leg. Can’t really move fast anymore. And I’m asthmatic, too. Can’t walk or run too far. Wouldn’t be smart for me to go outside.