by Dan O'Brien
“Street. Now!”
They ran then, rushing for the embrace of the sun.
*
Just beyond the ten or so check-out counters stood carts upon carts of miscellaneous things piled up: camping gear, mini-generators, food, booze, and an entire bed set. Kenny stood in front of one as the zombie cashiers simply stared.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” spoke the clumsy giant.
“Neither can I.”
They were staring at this zombie because what had once been a woman was now an anomaly. “Her fucking breasts survived. Unbelievable,” Kenny said exasperatedly.
“Given that it is just silicone, dead tissue really wouldn’t cause a problem.”
The zombie cashier retained what could only be described as enormous Double-D-size breasts that were barely restrained by the remnants of a Wal-Mart uniform. “How do you think they feel?” asked the bumbling behemoth.
“Like fake tits?”
Kenny gave him a look as if to say duh. “Obviously, you fucking idiot. I meant because she is dead, they might feel different.”
Will made a funny face, scrunching his nose and raising his eyebrow at the comment. “Why the fuck would they feel different?”
“I dunno, because she is a deadhead, maybe something changed.”
“So your collusion…”
“Contention.”
“What?”
“You said collusion, that’s the wrong fucking word, Webster.”
“What the fuck ever. So your contention is that since she is dead, the chemical composition of her tits changed?”
“When you say it like that, it does sound kind of stupid.”
“That’s because it is stupid.”
Kenny shook his head. “You know, you’re a fucking dick, man. It is a wonder you survived the end of the world.”
“It’s a wonder your giant ass survived the end of the world without McDonald’s.”
“You calling me fat?”
“How about big, motherfucker. Gigantor. Stay Puft.”
Kenny reached forward and grabbed Will, throwing him over the cashier and into the next lane. “You scrawny little fucker, I’m gonna break your fucking head off and piss down your throat.”
Will bounced up. “Big talk from a big man. You got what it takes to back it up you silly, sloppy fuck?”
Brandon’s voice over the radio interrupted the lovers’ spat. “We got shots fired.”
Kenny stopped, looking at the shoulder-mounted radio.
“What’s the situation?”
“We got crawlers at Sports Authority. Load up and meet back there,” echoed Brandon’s voice.
“Dee and Dumb acknowledge.” Kenny looked at Will, pointing a finger. “This isn’t over. Grab the carts and let’s blow this fucking place.”
“Whatever you say, Kong. Lead the way.”
They grabbed the carts, linking them together and exiting through the automatic doors of Wal-Mart, which were propped open by two snarling, restrained zombies––complete with greeter’s vests.
Track 9
Hotel California
T
he street was a war zone. Dan, Jesse, and Allen stood shoulder to shoulder. Round after round exploded in the air. A pile of crawlers and a pool of murky blood spread across the asphalt.
The sound was overwhelming.
Dan lowered his weapon, looking critically at the afternoon sun. A zombie skittered to the top of the pile. Its back broken, it peered down from the pile with its wild eyes and gaping maw fixed with crooked, oozing teeth. Something louder rose above their automatic rifle fire. A round tore the zombie in half, a wild spray covering the front of the store. Dan looked back and saw the glint of the .50 cal from a distance.
He waved at his friend.
“Looks like we nabbed our quota for the day,” spoke the younger brother glibly.
“So it would seem,” spoke Dan.
“Certainly got the pulse racing,” joked Allen with a wide grin.
Dan smirked.
“Exciting, indeed.”
“You sure about that?” asked the security chief.
“Don’t I sound excited?” Dan’s pitch sounded more like a mortician than someone who participated in something akin to a Michael Bay action scene with an absurd amount of crawling, snarling zombies.
“Oh yeah, ecstatic. You should really tone it down before it becomes contagious,” retorted Jesse.
Dan started to walk away, lifting up his sunglasses and squinting slightly. “I’ll try to work on that.”
Static erupted from the radio.
“Everybody living?”
“We are fine, Eagle Eye,” replied Dan.
“Orders?” responded the quaking voice.
“Remain. Redirect Dee and Dumb to the Tower,” replied Dan.
“Acknowledged, boss. Eagle out.”
Static dispersed.
Jesse glanced at his brother’s back, a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to mess with the Tower today, given the level of excitement around here?”
“No time like the present.”
“Indeed.”
Dan turned.
Allen watched the exchange mutely.
“Something you wanna say?” challenged the elder brother.
Jesse made a non-committal look, shrugging as he did so. “Not unless you want to talk.”
“So we understand each other.”
“It would appear so. What do we hope to accomplish with our little excursion to the Tower?”
Dan lowered his shades again.
“Contact. Meaning.”
Allen had his rifle ready again as he looked around absently. “Should we toast them?”
The elder sibling shook his head. “Might bring unwanted company. Leave them for now. Maybe on the way out.”
Allen acquiesced.
“I feel like a walk,” spoke Dan distantly.
Allen looked at Jesse with a quizzical look.
The sun was still high in the sky.
“Isn’t that a bit reckless?” cautioned Jesse.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Allen watched them mutely.
“Eagle Eye.”
Static erupted once more.
“Boss?”
Allen and Jesse waited quietly.
“Boss?” repeated Brandon.
“Regroup at the van.”
“Acknowledged.”
They remained quiet as they looked off toward their destination and the startling pile of zombie remains that continued to twitch.
*
The interior of the Bronco was quiet despite the pair’s continuous bickering. The static over the radio drew Kenny’s attention.
“Rendezvous at Tower.”
“Dee and Dumb acknowledge.”
Will looked out the window, watching the world pass by. “Tower, huh?”
“You gotta problem with that?”
“I have a problem with you.”
“Funny guy.”
The streets of River’s Bend were not as empty as they had been previously. “Hold up, hold up,” spoke Will quickly.
As the Bronco slowed, a zombie walked into a wall. It then reached out, snarling and groaning. It had thick Ray Charles-style sunglasses and a broken stick in its hand.
It was a blind zombie.
“It’s Blind Bob,” marveled Kenny.
Will bounced up and down in his seat like a little kid.
“Pull over, man. I wanna mess with him.”
Kenny did not look convinced.
“Boss said Tower, we go to the Tower.”
“Come on, man. It will take a fucking second. I just want to fuck with it a little bit.”
Kenny sighed and slowed down the Bronco, rolling it to a stop. Will was already halfway out the door as the beast stopped. As he walked forward, Will pulled out the nail-bat.
“Bob?”
Bob the Blind Zombie turned, groaning and reaching out with one hand
. In a series of fits and spastic movements, it swung the stick haphazardly.
“Hey fuck-stick! I’m right here,” yelled Will.
Will danced around the blind zombie. As he did so––and fortunately for him––the zombie lunged unsuccessfully. Beating the bat on the ground, Will waved his hands wildly.
“Hey,” called Will.
Bob lunged again, but this time Will swung the bat hard, knocking the blind zombie to the ground. Kenny was out of the truck in a single bound. “What the fuck, man? Why the hell did you do that to a Bob?”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“I dunno…”
“It’s a fucking deadhead.”
Kenny paused, leaning against the Bronco.
“Yeah, I know. I just…”
“You think hitting a blind one is wrong?”
Kenny shrugged.
“Let me ask you this: How the fuck is this dead fuck even blind? It is dead. There is no fucking brain activity.”
“Well, it’s a supernatural thing.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know like ghosts or demons or some shit. Physics don’t apply.”
“Are you fucking retarded? Physics don’t apply? Then how the fuck can we kill them? Why then is it that blowing their non-existent brains out is the only way––only way mind you––to kill one of these sprinting dead fuckers?”
Kenny shrugged again.
“Your entire thesis is a fucking shrug.”
“Thesis?”
“Your main point, your argument, your hypothesis. What the fuck ever you want to call it, man.”
“I don’t think thesis applies here.”
“Don’t change the fucking subject, you troglodyte.”
“You using word-of-the-day shit paper, you derelict?” challenged Kenny.
“How the fuck are these things even running around? No brain activity, no heart pumping. No heart pumping means non-existent lung function. How the fuck do their muscles even work? This whole thing is completely fucked,” ranted Will.
“Who cares? Let’s get out of here. Oh yeah and that Bob is about to…”
The stick whacked Will right in the face, making him scream out. He stumbled back as the Bob groaned hungrily, reaching out in the wrong direction.
“Fuck this.”
Will proceeded to beat Bob the Blind Zombie until it was lying on the ground; its glasses spun out on the sidewalk. He kicked the stick from its hand and beat on its face until it was little more than a flat stain on the sidewalk.
“Fuck, aggression much?” spoke Kenny disgustedly.
There were splatter marks along Will’s decorative vest, and his chest heaved slightly. “That fucker hit me with his fucking blind stick.”
“Still…”
Will grabbed the handle to the door of the Bronco, wrenching it open. “Fuck it, let’s get to the Tower.”
“Now you wanna go, motherfucker. I see how this works.”
“Whatever, real-life version of Hindenburg with questionable gender assignment.”
“What the fuck is that about?”
Kenny moved around to the driver’s side and opened the door, pulling his large frame into the cab. “Seriously, that Bob deserved better than that.”
“Drive the fucking Bronco, man. Seriously, just drive.”
Kenny started the Bronco again. “Two words for you, man: anger management.” The Bronco roared forward, the stereo thumping once more.
Track 10
Stairway to Heaven
T
he van was parked just outside the spiraling radio station tower, by far the tallest building in River’s Bend. “How is this gonna go down, boss?” asked Allen as he looked up at the monstrosity.
“We go in. Brandon takes Eagle. Twiddle dee and dumb take up a post by the doors.”
“Generators?” queried the younger brother.
“Generators,” replied Dan with a smile.
Allen walked back to the van and opened the sliding side door. He grabbed an oily looking generator with dark fabric straps.
“You want me to carry it?”
“Nah, my call, my carry.” Dan grabbed a hold of the straps and shouldered it with a grunt.
*
The Bronco came screaming in: heavy tires, thundering engine. The stereo cut out as the doors opened and Kenny and Will emerged.
The Tower was quiet.
Brandon leaned against the van, watching the two as they approached. “You guys stop for coffee or something?”
“Something like that,” retorted Will.
“This crazy fucker beat a Bob to death.”
“Which Bob?”
Kenny pointed at Will accusingly.
“He beat Blind Bob to death.”
“That is kind of fucking cold.”
“You both are fucking mentally deficient. It is a deadhead. Fuck them.”
Brandon craned his neck. “I don’t know there, kid. That seems pretty fucking ‘core, even for a deadhead.”
“Why don’t you zip it, Father Time, and go sit in a fucking window or something.”
Brandon grinned. “Gladly.” He walked away, duffel bag and .50 cal over his shoulder.
Will watched him leave with an irritated look.
“I’m getting tired of this kid shit.”
“Don’t act like a fool if you don’t want to be treated like one.”
“Are you fucking Confucius now?”
Kenny put his hand in Will’s face and pushed past him.
“Let’s soldier-up like boss told us to.”
“Two words first, man.”
Kenny waited.
“Ms. Pac-Man.”
Will started forward and Kenny pushed him back, running toward the front of the radio station tower.
*
The open area of the lobby might have once been busy, but now it was little more than one large round counter in the south part of the room and two clear glass doors that led to a stairwell.
And a single arcade machine: Ms. Pac-Man.
“Here we go,” spoke Dan in a low tone
Pushing through the doors to the stairwell, they began to ascend the stairs. They rounded four floors before they reached a heavy door. Dan’s face was sweaty. Jesse and Allen carried their weapons with grim looks.
“Let us see what kind of damage we can do.”
*
Will and Kenny emerged into the lobby of the Tower. They scrambled toward the machine, pushing each other and jostling for position. Will ducked underneath Kenny and reached the machine first.
“Losers go second.”
Kenny grunted and walked away, mumbling irritably. Will started the machine and the characteristic sounds of Ms. Pac-Man echoed in the open room.
“You ever notice how hot Ms. Pac-Man is?”
“You are fucking retarded.”
Will moved the joystick quickly, his entire body in motion as he played the game. Kenny looked over at the monitor of the machine. Reaching out with one big hand, he blocked Will’s view.
“Knock it off, man. Going for the high score, baby.”
Kenny laughed and pulled away his hand. “You are a weird little dude, getting off on Ms. Pac-Man.”
“Better than masturbating to my thoughts.”
Kenny made a grossed-out face.
“That is way more than I fucking wanted to know.”
“Oh yeah, then you are gonna fucking love this.”
Kenny shook his hands.
“Fuck off, man. I don’t want to know.”
“Too fucking bad. When I was a little kid, I would lay in bed and fucking move my cock muscles for like hours, masturbating to nothing. You ever do that?”
“Of course not, you fucking degenerate.”
“You use anything when you are visiting the Queen? A little bit a lube? A rag?”
Kenny turned away.
“Au natural, motherfucker.”
“Yeah, me too, except wh
en I’m done I stick my hands in your laundry basket to wipe off.”
Kenny punched Will hard in the arm, making him let go of the joystick. As he fell aside, hugging his arm angrily, Kenny snuck in and began to play.
Static echoed in the lobby.
“Where the fuck are you?”
Kenny looked at the screen, ignoring the voice for a second. Will smiled at him sheepishly while massaging his arm.
“You gonna ignore Eagle? Boss wouldn’t be happy about that.”
Kenny hit the screen of the machine hard, jarring it and turning away as Ms. Pac-Man died. “This is Dee. We are on our way out.”
“Quit jerking it to Ms. Pac-Man and guard the doors.”
Kenny glared at Will.
“Dee and Dumb out.”
Will laughed wildly.
“That’s right, motherfucker, we are going outside.”
Kenny walked after Will as he scampered out into the afternoon sun. Within moments of being outside, the junior deviant was spray-painting the side of the building with long, swinging motions. Kenny stood in front of the door quietly, watching the empty streets in deep concentration.
*
In a room on the top floor of a building down the street from the radio station tower, Brandon sat by himself and chewed gum. He watched the scene with boredom. His feet were propped on the window sill he was watching from. Sighing, he blew a bubble as he hummed softly to himself.
*
There was an array of communications equipment. A slight hum permeated the air, the potential for something. Allen was the last one through the door, and as such remained in front of it––a deadly sentry.
“Use that one over there. It should lead to the main transformer,” called Dan. He un-shouldered the generator and put it next to where he directed his brother.
Jesse leaned over the terminal, inspecting it. “Looks like we might be able to get something out of this. Any suggestions for a destination?”
“I figure we might end up with a small window of power. Location and SOS. See what bounces back.”
Jesse nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s do this.”
Dan moved the generator in front of the terminal and reached around behind the machine, grabbing a threaded cable. “Here.” Jesse took the cable and leaned over the generator, manipulating dials and gizmos.
