Van took a moment to evaluate where he was. Kofi was at the picnic table behind him. He needed to get the zombie between the two of them.
Van slowly circled the zombie without the zombie jumping at him. When it was repositioned between the two of them, Van looked over the zombie’s shoulder. Kofi was standing, but he stood with his samurai sword hanging beside his leg.
‘This is a hell of a time to be in shock,’ Van thought.
Van continued to look past the zombie when he noticed something running towards Kofi from out of the shadows. “Kofi, behind you,” Van yelled.
And as soon as he spoke the zombie in front of him suddenly knocked Van’s sword away and lunged at him. Van’s grip on the sword had been tight, so when the sword was brushed away it took Van to the ground with it.
But with an incredible amount of balance he stepped into the fall, balanced himself, spun, and lay another stripe across the zombie’s chest. All that did though was slow the zombie down - the zombie had been prepared for this stripe, calculating that one stripe was worth gaining the advantage. But in that calculation he was wrong because with the skill of a true samurai Van immediately brought his sword back around and pushed it forward as the zombie ran at him.
The sword hadn’t pierced the zombie as deeply as Van imaged it would. Van had thought that the zombie would kabob himself. Instead it impaled itself less than three inches deep and the zombie was able to back away.
‘Stupid movies,’ Van thought.
Van worked his way back to his feet. The zombie lunged at him with his right hand. Van countered by slashing it. The zombie lunged with left hand. Van slashed that one to. Van thought ‘Do zombies even bleed? Is there any way I could win this?’
Van backed himself up. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the zombie to figure out if Kofi was still alive. Van knew that any loss of focus now would be his death. Van shuffled backwards Luke Skywalker style. With both hands tightly on the sword in front of him he moved his twisted right foot back, and then his left.
Like a flash it hit Van that this was a fight he couldn’t win. Van was by no means a runner, but in that instant Van decided that this was the day that he would start. Pushing off his back foot, Van spun himself around. As he stepped his left foot in the new direction it caught on a sprinkler head that protruded slightly above the ground.
With the momentum that Van had built up his body bent like a chest-up ‘C’ until he could see the zombie upside down behind him. Van’s mind was now working faster than it ever had before. Without even thinking Van brought his front foot under him, took grip of the sword whose tip was touching the ground behind him and slashed the zombie from balls to throat.
But not even this stopped the thing’s forward movement and when Van recoiled into a crouching position a few feet in front of him he had only a second to react. So with the zombie reaching its hand out toward him, Van threw himself to the zombie’s left side swinging his sword back as he did.
While still flying parallel to the ground Van heard the pop as the sword made contact with the zombie’s Achilles tendon. When Van landed on the ground he knew that if he had missed, he would be as good as dead - if the zombie was still mobile, Van would be like a buffet for him with his face down and brains up.
He closed his eyes and waited to see the white light. And after a second when the white light didn’t appear, he opened his eyes and looked at the zombie. Van didn’t see it, but his blade had made contact. And once that tendon had been cut the zombie’s next step forward made it collapse like a ragdoll. So when Van finally saw the result of his work, the zombie was already wiggling on the ground like an overturned toy.
Seeing his advantage Van rushed himself to his feet and over to the thing. An arm’s length away Van lifted the sword high into the air, took aim at the creature’s neck and came down with all the force he had in him. The sword made contact and popped its head off like the cork of a champagne bottle. The rich maroon color of the barely illuminated blood spurt out.
When the head landed Van ran over to it and yelled at it “Did you see that bitch?”
Van stared down at the lifeless head below him. It suddenly dawned on him. ‘I guess zombies do bleed,’ he thought.
Van then took a closer look. There was something familiar about this zombie’s face. There was something about the way its golden brown hair covered its forehead. He knew this head and the body that it was attached to it.
“Oh fuck!” Van yelled when the fog cleared.
“Van!” Kofi yelled from a distance. “Help!”
Van looked up across the park. In the clearing he saw Kofi being chased by a female zombie. Luckily a female zombie with big knockers was the equivalent of a short Greek man whose quickest movements were to a lunch line. And because of that equilibrium the zombie wasn’t gaining ground.
Van watched for a second more when he noticed that the female zombie, who was for some reason hunting for an early morning snack wearing a bikini top and a sarong, possessed what had to be ‘E’ cups. And with every stride she was practically knocking herself senseless.
‘God bless real breasts,’ Van thought. ‘That’s so rare now-a-days.’
Van watched a little longer as her tiny-bikini-covered breasts flung around like a wind sock in a hurricane. ‘Definitely a ZILF,’ Van thought. ‘She is a Zombie I’d Like to Fuck. She would lift that fuckin’ sarong and jump on my cock like a fuckin’ monster,’ Van imagined. ‘Yeah, bitch ride it. I see how you like to run, ride it bitch.’
Van could feel tightness in his pants when he heard Kofi’s voice interrupt his fantasy.
“Van, what the fuck?” Kofi yelled.
‘Oh yeah,’ Van thought snapping out of it. He looked around for all of his options. And when Kofi led her back around, Van took a leap forward stepping first onto the picnic bench and then onto the picnic table. Still in one movement he lifted his sword high above this head, gripped it with both hands and propelled himself off. Van flew through the air like a ninja. And when he landed it was after delivering a stripe across the zombie’s back, across the supple yet slightly toned muscles of the very hot zombie’s back. Maroon blood oozed out.
Yet even though Van out-weighed this girl by about 60 pounds (placing her at a swimsuit edition perfect 110 pounds) she didn’t fall. Instead she stumbled forward a few steps and then turned toward Van. She looked him dead in the eyes. Van looked her mostly in her eyes. The rest of the time Van snuck looks at her breasts. Van couldn’t help it because, and he was sure that she didn’t realize it, he could see a bit of her nipple.
But when the zombie reached at him, he was back to business. When Van’s sword met her dainty wrists, they were no match for the blade. Her perfect looking hand went flying off. When she reached with the other hand, that one popped off too.
Now this zombie bitch was nothing but a snarling, crazy stump monster spraying from either side lawn sprinkler. And if it wasn’t for the nipple, which Van could still see, he would have finished her off.
“Do it Kofi,” Van said.
Kofi who was standing behind her with both hands on his sword was set to strike.
“Now Kofi,” Van yelled.
But still Kofi stood frozen. Even with all of his blood lust, Kofi couldn’t get himself to actually lift up his sword and cut off the head of something that he knew to be alive.
Snarling and screaming in front of him, the zombie leaned forward face first for an attack. And when she came at him, Van swung his sword and relocated her head away from her body. In that move the head stopped but the body kept going. And with the force of about 70 pounds, half of which was just breast, the body hit Van and knocked him over.
Kofi, elated, ran over to Van who was struggling to get out from under her body.
“Did you…” suddenly Kofi couldn’t catch his breath. He leaned over with his hands on his knees and sucked in air. “…see that head…” he continued through the breaths. Kofi lifted a finger in the air asking for a second.
Van made his way to his feet and wiped thick globs of red off looked for scratches where the zombie’s infection could have entered him. He ran his hand over his chest and leg and…
“…pop off?!” Kofi continued. “Oh god…” Kofi breathed some more. “I think I’m gonna die.” Kofi planted his fat hands onto his thick knees and struggled for a little while.
Once Van saw that he was out of danger he wasn’t much better. Van had opened his mouth to say ‘What the fuck were you doing,’ when a sudden need for oxygen kicked in. Both men struggled to catch their breath and the first one to speak was Kofi.
“That was awesome,” he said now standing and staring at Van.
Van stood up and stared at Kofi. “Why didn’t you take her fuckin’ head?” Van asked with venom.
“I don’t know man. I knew you had her.”
“You knew I had her?” Van spit back with anger.
“You cut off her fuckin’ hands, man. You fuckin’ had her.”
The memory of what he had done came back to him. He had cut off her hands. Like some type of ninja samurai he had cut down two zombies, one of which was in his zombie prime. Van was now a badass.
It felt good to be a badass. And the feeling lasted just long enough for him to remember whose head he saw laying in the grass on the other side of the picnic table.
“I knew that zombie,” Van said.
“What?” Kofi replied with a sudden mood change.
“We both knew that zombie.”
Van led Kofi over to the severed head. Standing above it, Van pointed down. “That’s Grant.”
Kofi looked down and saw what Van saw. “No, that’s a fuckin’ zombie.”
“That’s Grant,” Van insisted.
“Did he try and kill you? Then that’s a fuckin’ zombie.”
“We partied at his house. I brought spare ribs to his barbeque.” Van paused and looked up at Kofi. “I don’t get it. He doesn’t even live in this part of town.”
Kofi looked forward and then walked away. When Van caught up he could see that Kofi was mad. He wasn’t sure why he was, but his jaw was clenched and his teeth were grinding like he was trying to keep something in.
Van wondered aloud, “Don’t you even care that we just killed our friend?”
“Look, how am I supposed to know why he’s here? Maybe he and the bitch were out getting a midnight snack. Maybe he was driving by and saw some tender meat in the trees. Or maybe there’s no reason at all for him being here accept that he’s a fuckin’ mindless zombie and you still have your brains. How am I supposed to know?”
Van stopped talking because Kofi was right. How was Kofi supposed to know? Even still, Van couldn’t help but think that he had just killed his friend. The thought that he couldn’t push out of his mind was the time when he and Kieran had gone by Grant’s house for a few drinks. It was more than a year and a half ago. They were all sitting on Grant’s couch when his phone rang.
When Grant picked up the phone and heard the voice on the other side, his entire face changed. Grant’s face almost glowed. And in the middle of the conversation Grant very clearly said “No, Mom.” Grant was talking to his mother.
When Grant hung up, he actually blushed when he turned back towards the two guys. Grant knew that his friends had found out his secret. The guy with the great house that had beautiful women flowing in and out of it was a complete mama’s boy. And what Grant blushed about was the fact that he knew it. That blush showed more vulnerability than Van had ever seen in another man. It disturbed Van how much Grant had exposed himself to them.
The other memory that flashed in and out of Van’s mind was the time when Grant canceled his bi-monthly summer pool party. All of his friends really looked forward to the event so it was disappointing to everyone when it didn’t happen. At the following party it came out that the previous one had been canceled because his nephew and nieces were in town.
Grant clearly had people that he loved and who loved him. And Van had killed him. Killing the zombie with the boobs was OK, but Grant had a mother.
Van and Kofi walked in silence, Van with increasing sadness and Kofi with increasing rage. When Kofi reached his car he peeled away from Van and got in. Van watched Kofi fumble for his keys and the only thing Van could get out was “So…”
Kofi heard it, ignored it and pulled away. Van watched Kofi leave. It disturbed Van that after 8 months of nothing, his friend had broken into his house, gotten him to fight zombies, gotten him to kill both zombies - one of which was a friend - and then drove off without a word. It disturbed Van that somehow this experience had become a part of his life. He had never had a problem with zombies. He didn’t feel the need to hunt them in the middle of the night. But somehow here he was – alone and covered in his friend’s blood.
Van continued walking home, wondering why he had gone along with Kofi. Was an old friend’s request really enough to change a man’s opinion of the undead?
‘Is that why I did it?’ he asked himself. No. He had done it because he missed his friend. And if brutal, pre-meditated murder was what it took to get his friend back, he would do it.
Yet here he was, walking home alone. And what’s more, he was now covered in a different friend’s blood. “How could he just leave like that again? I wish he would have said goodbye.”
Van reached out for his front door. The door creaked loudly in the early morning silence. Van felt a bit of shame coming home so late when some of his neighbors had probably just woken up. Van began to feel out of place amongst the normal people – those who hadn’t killed someone that night. He felt separate from all the normal people who hadn’t just cut off their friend’s head and left it in the park for an early morning jogger to find.
Grant didn’t deserve that, Van decided. He didn’t deserve to be the story on the 6 o’clock news. “But I… I deserve everything that comes to me.”
Van woke up late the next morning. As he did on his late mornings, he brushed his teeth in the shower. He’d considered skipping the shower since he had taken one only hours before, but he wanted to pretend like the previous night never happened. A morning shower was part of his routine.
He dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a pale blue button front shirt. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate it while reading the side of the cereal box. After he retrieved his briefcase and descended the stairs from his porch, he walked down the same sidewalk he had walked a few hours before. He didn’t look over when he passed the park, but with the corner of his eye he could see the flashing lights of a police car and a mere two investigating officers. Maybe a dead zombie didn’t require a third.
Van turned through a corner past the park and approached his car. It was a red mustang convertible, chosen to impress the women he met thanks to Kofi and Kieran. But with his friends now MIA, its only use was as a magnet for traffic tickets.
Van had graduated from UCLA with a degree in chemistry. After graduation his parents had wanted him to come back to Dallas to work in the family business, but Van liked the life he had created for himself in Los Angeles. Van thought his L.A. life was worth getting cut off over.
For the first few years out of college Van had worked as an office assistant in an investment bank. After the VP he assisted was fired, Van did a little background work on TV shows to pay bills before finding a job as a chemical analyst at the oil refinery which still employed him.
Chemical analysis consisted of sitting in a small windowless room in front of a series of meters. His job was to be the pair of human eyes required by law. In theory, he was there to make sure that the computerized monitoring system didn’t miss something that would cause the plant to blow up destroying the city of Torrance. After each day in which Van did not die in a fireball, it was his job to compile a report testifying to the fact that the plant hadn’t blown up.
After 6 years he was promoted to his current post: Lead Chemical Analyst. Now he sat in a larger windowless room and compiled all of the reports created
by all of the guys who sat in front of meters. Once collected, he inserted the reports into a Classified Master Safety Report that he would then send to the Environmental Protection Agency every quarter. That was Van’s job in its entirety.
When he arrived home each day he began another routine: after eating the take-out he picked up on his way home, he would pop in a movie featuring Japanese swordsmen. Before the movie began he would change into his samurai loin cloth or his samurai-inspired g-string and then tie his Japanese rising sun bandana around his head. As the movie played he would say, in English, the words spoken by the protagonist in Japanese.
During the fight scene he would match each move muscle for muscle, and at the conclusion of the movie he would perform an improvised Kenbu sword dance. A Kenbu was a story told through the use of a sword or fan. But Van’s Kenbu were more like action movies than full stories. They were always light on character development and heavy on movement. But Van’s movements were pure spectacle.
In movies, the movements of the samurai were always deliberate - they sliced then posed. In Van’s Kenbu he moved and flowed as if he were trapped inside a bubble. And the only thing that moved the bubble forward was a slash from his blade. Van would carve the air and move himself forward never losing a moment of balance. He would extend his arms out making a perfect cross and then spin, rolling the bubble forward and cutting the inside of the bubble to shreds.
On most nights this relaxed Van. The continuous improvisation distracted him and the feeling of the sword cutting the air thrilled him. But the night after cutting down Grant in the park, he got no thrill from his dance. During the years that he performed his ritual he had always imagined what it would actually feel like if his sword met bone. But this night he knew exactly how it felt and the memory of it slicing through a real neck haunted him.
Samurai Zombie Hunter Page 5
