ZOMBIE'S DOOM? Chronicles of Jack Doom

by Will Lemen

  Without regard for the hundreds of flies whizzing by the slobbering monstrosity, or the multitude of maggots swimming in its drool, and giving no thought whatsoever about the terminal case of ringworm that covered the bluish skin of its victim, my former target began to dismantle the slowly rotting two legged carnivore piece by piece.

  Our gunfire ceased as we stood in awe of the carnage that was taking place before us.

  We were no longer the chosen prey of either the mongrels or of the zombies. They had both stopped pursuing us and focused their complete attention on each other.

  "Let's make a break for it!" Derek yelled, as he trotted toward the house.

  The Sarge followed him toward the house and without looking back shouted to me.

  "Come on Jack, move it!"

  With only one man left on the Sarge's team, I think his name was Steve, the four of us ran to the safety of the house.

  Well three of us did anyway.

  Unfortunately for the Sarge's last remaining squad member, after I tripped Steve and pushed him on top of two zombies that were being ripped to shreds by three of the feral dogs. In the heat of battle, neither the dogs nor the zombies could discern the difference between Steve and the enemy that they were fighting.

  Sadly, Steve didn't make it.

  The back door of the girl's hideout opened and Beth called out to us.

  "Get your dumb asses in here!"

  As one might think, none of us wasted any time complying with the cute little blonde's demand.

  We entered the home in single file, in the order that we had escaped the deadly fracas, except for Steve, as I said, sadly, he didn't make it.

  Once inside the sanctuary, the Sarge wasted no time trying to tell Beth twice (give her two black eyes).

  "You fucking bitch, I'll teach you to run out on me!" he screamed, as he raised his left hand across his body to apply a backhanded pimp slap.

  Just as he had wasted no time beginning Beth's public flogging that he thought she deserved, and obviously felt that I would not have an issue with. I too wasted no time in preparing him to accept the punishment that I knew he deserved.

  As the Sarge's arm began to move forward towards Beth's face, I laid the barrel of my M-4 against the left side of his skull with the proper amount of force to render him unconscious.

  "Thank you Jack," Beth said softly.

  "No, thank you Beth," I replied.

  "Thank me for what?" she inquired.

  "Thank you for not shooting this son-of-a-bitch when you had the chance."

  "Believe me, it did cross my mind, but I knew you wanted to take the first whack at him," Beth confessed. "I even took out one of the dead that was about to pounce on him."

  "When you two are done flirting, you might want to tie your buddy up before he comes to," Derek suggested, with his usual smile. "When he wakes up he's going to be really pissed!"

  During all of my planning and all of the tracking that had to be done to find the Sarge, all I could think about during that time, was killing the son-of-a-bitch.

  However, after thinking about all of the people, zombies, and canines that had to die for me to successfully complete my self-ordained mission. I had come to have a change of heart concerning my former Marine Corps buddy.

  In light of all the death and destruction, and all of the carnage that preceded the capture of my old friend, I decide not to kill him after all.

  My thought process went something like this.

  With all of the heartache and anguish he had cause me, and all of the agony and suffering that I had caused people during my search for him. All of the pain and torture that would have never happened if the Sarge hadn't of drove that school bus away from the armory that day, leaving me and my family to stand alone and almost defenseless against an unseen sniper, and in the middle of an attacking zombie horde.

  I wouldn't have had to commandeer Jason's truck, and he would still be alive. I wouldn't have been anywhere near the Wolf River and Cassandra's "Bull Lesbian" sister Carla would still be alive.

  I had no reason to be traveling through Arkansas, so Eric and Matt might still be alive, and Tim would still have his hair. Not to mention the leather bag hanging from my belt is a constant reminder that if it weren't for the Sarge's cowardice, Cassandra wouldn't be walking around right now one tit lighter.

  So with all of that said, I reiterate, I decided not to kill the Sarge at this time.

  Because... Killing is to damn good for that motherfucker!

  I could have killed him before he regained consciousness, but then it would have been over.

  I could have waited until he woke up, and then put a bullet into his pea-brain, but then he would never have learned his lesson.

  No, killing him would serve no purpose, his punishment would need to be far greater than mere dying, after all, dying is part of life nowadays.

  People die, zombies die, feral dogs die, even my family died. Dying is too much of a natural thing to do in the unnatural world we live in.

  "Turn the dining room table over, and tie this bastard spread eagle to its legs," I demanded. "But stripe him buck naked first."

  "That will be a job for you two girls," Derek insisted. "Touching naked men isn't my thing."

  "I don't mind," Jolene announced. "I've had some experience doing that kind of thing."

  "I'll help you strip this punk," Beth said. "Remember Jack, you said you'd leave something for me."

  Derek smashed a couple of lamps and ripped their cords out, while I tore the telephone off the wall and cut its cord off.

  The heavy oak table made an excellent rack to stretch out a human body.

  As I tied the final electric cord around the Sarge's ankle, he began to wake up.

  "What in the fucking hell is this Jack?" he asked. "Untie me right now, this isn't funny."

  "Fuck you Ron!" Beth shouted, as she kicked the sprawled out naked man in the ribs.

  "You fucking whore, I'll kill you for that!" the Sarge shouted back.

  Standing over the bound up man, I stared at him for a moment before informing him of his fate.

  "Calm down, you're not going to kill anybody, at least not for awhile," I told him.

  "What's this all about Jack?" he asked, with a confused look on his face. "I thought we were friends?"

  "You thought wrong, our friendship ended about the same time I was sucking exhaust fumes out of the tailpipe of the school bus you drove off in," I answered, gritting my teeth. "And inhaling poison gas happened to be the least of my worries that day, considering that at the time my family and I were surrounded by about ten thousand angry and very hungry eaters."

  "I didn't have a choice Jack," Sarge insisted. "We were surrounded too, we had to leave right then or we would have never made it out of there, tell him Beth, we couldn't wait any longer."

  "Funny, we waited, because we didn't have any other choice, and we made it out of there alive," I maintained, feeling a tsunami of rage surging through my body.

  "We'll never know now, will we?" Beth stated. "You were so busy whining like a little baby, and bitch slapping me at the same time that it's a miracle that we did get away."

  Beth leaned into another kick to the Sarge's ribs.

  "Ouch! You little bitch, I dare you to do that again," the Sarge said, immediately regretting his challenge, as Beth again drop kicked the man in the ribs.

  "Easy Beth, remember, I'm supposed to save some for you, not the other way around," I reminded.

  "Okay then, you better get started before I lose my temper and waste this dick-head," Beth warned.

  "All right honey, just one more thing," I said. "I want to ask this punk something."

  "Well, please make it quick, I've waited a long time to get even with this motherfucker," Beth professed in a none to lady-like manner.

  "Sarge do you remember what I used to say when we were stationed in Afghanistan," I asked solemnly.

  "No," the sergeant answered gruffly, still grimacing from Bet
h's last kick.

  "I told you on more than one occasion, that pain is the Great Teacher. Today I'm going to be assisting the Great Teacher with your lesson.

  "Enough of this banter!" Beth insisted, as she forcefully drove the toe of her shoe into the Sarge's rib cage one more time.

  "Okay, you talked me into it darling, if you would be so kind as to fetch me that bottle of hooch out of my pack, we'll get this party started."

  Back to Contents

  SERGEANT

  "Well, well, the conundrum begins," I said, as Beth handed me the whiskey bottle.

  "Which conundrum is that?" she asked.

  "Where to start," I answered, unscrewing the bottle cap. "That's the dilemma we face."

  "I know, Sarge you better have a drink before they get started, I think you're going to need it," Derek added, not realizing that the bottle of whiskey that I had in my hand was no ordinary alcoholic beverage.

  "Excellent suggestion, I'd take his advice if I were you Sarge," I stressed, holding the bottle up to the ex-marines mouth.

  "I don't need your booze!" the Sarge spewed defiantly.

  "Well, if you change your mind, you just let Beth know, okay?" I told him, as I pulled the tainted drink away from his mouth and handed the bottle of liquor to Beth.

  "Fuck him, let him suffer," Beth said, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. "Just like he let me suffer. Fuck him."

  I grabbed the bottle out of Beth's hand and removed the cap.

  "I changed my mind, he's going to take a drink, he just doesn't know it yet," I said, as I again pushed the bottle toward the Sarge's mouth.

  The Sarge's attempt to avoid the contaminated liquid was futile as I stuffed the neck of the whiskey bottle into my old friend's mouth and crammed it half way down his chicken-shit throat.

  "You do what I say, and I say you take a drink!"

  The sergeant choked and gagged, and spit up about half of the whiskey that I poured down his gullet, but swallowed enough to render him unconscious moments later.

  "Shit Jack, what is that stuff?" Derek asked, pointing to the whiskey bottle.

  "Just a little Mickey juice I picked up down in Arkansas," I answered. "Three hillbillies I met had no more use for it, and I thought it might come in handy sometime so I took it with me when I parted company with them."

  "What were you thinking Jack?" Beth fumed. "Now we're going to have to wait for him to wake up again before we can continue."

  "I don't think so darling," I said, as I patted her on the butt. "He's going to feel one hell of a lot of pain when he wakes up, watch this."

  I pulled out my tomahawk and drenched it with some of the tainted booze to kill off any zombie germs that might be lingering on the blade, and then I began to peel the skin off the bottom of the Sarge's right foot from where his toes attached clear down to the back of his heel.

  "I think a quarter inch of flesh should do the trick," I claimed.

  "You think?" Derek asked. "A quarter inch of skin is all that's on the bottom of his feet, you've exposed the bones."

  "Opps! I'll be more careful on his left foot," I promised, as I placed my hatchet at the base of his toes.

  "I can't watch this," Jolene proclaimed, turning her back on the sergeant.

  "I can!" Beth asserted with a smile, as she knelt down beside me. "What's next after this foot?"

  "Well we don't want to mutilate him to the point where he gets gnawed on by eaters as soon as he goes out in the open," I answered. "What fun would that be? Pour a little of that whiskey over his wounds, we wouldn't want him to get an infection."

  Beth slopped some alcohol onto the Sarge's feet then recapped the bottle.

  "That should do it," she affirmed.

  "Keep that bottle handy, we've only begun to teach this ass hole a lesson," I said, moving up to the Sarge's head.

  "He's not only going to be hobbling around through the apocalypse, he's going to be scaring the fucking shit out of everyone he meets along the way," I explained. "When I get done with him, not even Jolene will want to fuck him."

  "I turned my head, I didn't cover my ears," Jolene began to rant.

  "Okay, my mistake, I'm sorry," I said, interrupting her before she got up to speed. "You probably will still want to fuck him."

  Derek burst out laughing, as did Beth and I, Jolene couldn't remain angry and began to laugh as well. After all, she knew better than anybody did about her whoring ways, and she knew that I was probably right.

  "Let me borrow that little pig sticker you carry, but sterilize it with the whiskey first," I said, grabbing the Sarge's red hair and pulling it back to expose his hairline.

  Beth did as I asked and unfolded her pocketknife, doused it with whiskey and handed it to me.

  I drug the small knife along the Sarge's hairline, making a deep incision all the way down to the bone as I went. When the blade reached the opposite side of the man's head from where I had started the cut, I tugged on the clump of hair that was clasped in my hand, and peeled his scalp back and away from his skull as if I were skinning a wild animal that I had hunted down and killed.

  As Beth watched me scalp the man that had beaten her so many times in the past, a stern look gradually melted over her face.

  "You should have done that to him while he was awake"

  "He would never hold still enough for me to make such a precise cut if he were awake," I replied, snipping in two the remaining skin that held the scalp to the head. "Besides, he'll feel plenty of pain when the drug wears off."

  "Remind me never to cross you Jack, I've become accustom to my hair," Derek broke in running his fingers through his hair. "And let's face it, your barbering skills leave a little to be desired."

  Jolene unable to resist the temptation finally turned around and looked at the Sarge.

  "Holy fuck, shit," she gasped. "You've really fucked him up."

  "He's not done yet, are you Jack," Beth assured her calmly.

  "Not even close," I answered. "Jolene, sweetie, instead of standing there turning green, see if you can find some more booze, I don't want to use all of this drugged whiskey sterilizing shit."

  "Watch your mouth Jack, don't pat me on the butt, and then call her sweetie," Beth warned, replacing her stern look with one of false cheerfulness.

  I took Beth's warning to heart, not wanting to piss her off. After all, not counting the mutilated carcass of the Sarge, which was tied to the legs of the dining room table, there were two girls and two boys in the house, and it was beginning to look as if Beth had chosen the partner she wanted to spend the rest of Armageddon with.

  Remembering what Derek had told the Sarge about scrubbing up the girls, before doing some serious partying, I revisited for the umpteenth time, the vision of what I imagined Beth's naked body to look like (it was difficult not to with that little blonde's cute butt wiggling in front of me constantly), and spending the rest of the Zombie Apocalypse with her began to look quite appealing to me.

  I decided to make my first and probably my last attempt at playing matchmaker for the group, so I suggested.

  "Derek, why don't you go help her find some more whiskey, or vodka, or something. I don't know how long this anal opening is going to stay asleep, and I would like to be finished with his makeover before he wakes up."

  "Roger that boss," Derek giddily replied, as he and Jolene trotted into the next room in search of more alcohol.

  I figured Derek wouldn't mind being paired with Jolene, she was an attractive woman with a more than adequate set of mammary glands hanging on her chest, plus she had a track record of sharing her assets. What's not to like?

  It wasn't long before the two of them returned to the dining area.

  "We found some, there's more in the other room, but these two had the most alcohol percentage in them," Derek said, handing me a bottle of 151 rum.

  "You keep it," I said. "Sterilize that meat cleaver of yours and let me borrow it for a minute."

  Jolene began to hang on Derek's shoul
ders as he soaked his cleaver with the rum.

  Even though as far as we knew, the house we were in, along with the immediate vicinity was still surrounded by feral dogs and feral zombies going at each other's throats, our desire for companionship was strong.

  The lack of human touch the apocalypse had deprived us all of (except for Jolene of course), had begun to take its toll on everyone, so even a small amount of touchy feely grabbing, patting, and cuddling with the opposite sex was a welcome and much needed reminder that we were still human. And no amount of zombies, feral canines, rogue humans, or anything else traipsing around the neighborhood or the wasteland beyond, was going to stifle that primal need.

  "Here Jack, it's more sterile than a nun's cunt," Derek said proudly, as he handed me his favorite butchers utensil still dripping with rum.

  "Okay, I've got to ask. What's with you and nun's cunts?" I asked, giggling, as Jolene blushed.

  "Oh, my mother was a nun!" Derek answered not skipping a beat.

  "Eeeewwwuu!" Beth and Jolene sang out in unison.

  "Okay, well I guess that explains it then," I said, smiling and shaking my head in disbelief.

  The Sarge was tied spread eagle to the legs of the wooden table, bound at his wrists and ankles, each of his limbs lashed tightly to their respective post.

  "Beth honey, could you please hold this fuck's index finger up against the wood like this?" I asked politely, holding the tip of his finger and pressing it to the table leg."I don't think he's going to have any use for this trigger finger."

  Beth took the Sarge's finger, pressed it hard against the leg of the table, and held it firmly on the wooden pillar his wrist was tied to.

  One good well placed swipe of Derek's meat cleaver, and the index finger on the Sarge's right hand was lopped off just past the second knuckle.

  "Jolene, pull one of the boot laces from this asshole's boots, we'll use it for a tourniquet," Beth ordered, tossing her a boot.

  "You better take both of them off, I'm going to chop off his other index finger too," I insisted.