by D. C. Gomez
Modifications to my gear were in order. I strapped two paint guns to my legs, grabbed my backpack full of extra ammo, and hooked up a police baton in the place where my machete usually went. The screams were overwhelming and I wasn’t sure who was chasing whom at this point. I finished my shake, dropped the bottle in my trunk, and pulled out my extra-large paint gun. It looked like a modified M16, but with enough rounds to take down at least one hundred of these bad boys. I did the sign of the cross one more time. In cases like these, it didn’t hurt to have some divine intervention.
“Father, don’t let us die today,” I prayed.
“Are you talking to me?” Constantine asked in my ear. I forgot my mic and earpiece were hot.
“Sorry, Constantine, just talking to the big guy,” I told him as I took a quick survey of my surroundings.
“Good call. You might need him over there.”
If anybody else had said that it would have sounded condescending. With Constantine, it was just a fact.
“Constantine, where are our boys?” I looked around at the chaos.
“Bartholomew is by a field near the plane where they have the stage. Start there.” I took a breath and Constantine continued. “And Isis, hurry. He’s surrounded.”
“Why didn’t you say that first?” I said, as I took off running.
“No need to add any more pressure to this mess.” Since when was Constantine so considerate?
Running across a field of zombies was like taking a leisurely walk across a minefield. There was no point in stealth; they were everywhere. I was convinced our accountant had fed half the town. Bartholomew was right; we had at least five thousand people in this mess. I decided to be Moses today; I was parting the sea by shooting everything in sight. At first, I didn’t seem to make a difference until the humans noticed the zombies dropping.
“Get down,” I screamed at a mother who was holding her baby. I wasn’t sure if it was her husband who had turned, but the scene was terrifying. She hit the ground and covered her baby with her body; only a mother would do that. I took the guy and five others out around her. “If you can, get in your car and stay in. Got it?”
“Yes, thank you.” The young mother picked up her child and took off. She was fearless. She would die before anyone touched that baby. I took a knee and cleared a path from my location. If she were willing to face hell for her kid, I would give her a way. When I was sure she was safe, I took off again.
I made it to the central area of the bowl. The place looked like a riot site. Tables were overturned, tents ripped apart, chairs in pieces. I wasn’t sure where the humans were, but zombies were everywhere. A group of ten zombies was charging the only vendor’s booth still intact. I had no idea who was there, but they were putting up one hell of a fight. I took out the first five before getting near. By the time I made it over, three more were out, and the residents of the booth took out the remaining two. I tagged them each one more time, just to be on the safe side.
“Of course you would be here. Mayhem and destruction in Texarkana. It was only a matter of time before you would appear.”
I looked in the booth and saw no other than Angelito smiling back at me. Abuelita was on the other side, facing the rear.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Florida?” I asked him, as I kept shooting down zombies.
“Are you serious? And miss all this fun? Got back last night just in time,” he told me, as he threw some weird red flame at the zombies. Abuelita had said to me after last fall that Angelito’s powers had manifested. She was starting to train him.
“Hey, we want them alive.” I had no clue what that red stuff was, but it didn’t look safe. He gave me an odd look. “Death’s order.” He shrugged, closed his eyes, and his ball of whatever that was changed to blue. I was hoping blue meant good. I was still firing when I heard Abuelita.
“Dear, how is the restaurant?” she asked from behind me. I looked behind and she was throwing green stuff from the opposite side.
“Secure. Shorty is locking it up.”
Angelito was sweating, unlike Abuelita, who looked like she wasn’t even struggling. I grabbed one of my paint guns and handed it to him. “Here you go, my little warlock. I don’t need you burning yourself out in your first fight.” I grabbed extra ammo from my cargo pockets.
“Thanks. This is harder than it looks. What is this?” Angelito took the gun and aimed. The boy’s accuracy was scary.
“No idea, but it takes them out, and that’s all I care about.” I smiled at him.
“I do wonder if you are not part of the terrorist group because you’re a force to be reckoned with.” He gave me a quick visual inspection. “By the way, you’re rocking your Lora Craft look.”
I shook my head and suppressed the desire to shoot him.
“Thanks, Angelito. Love your tan.” He was glowing and his mocha complexion looked amazing. I turned back to shoot five more zombies before reloading when I stopped short. “Is that Eric?” I asked
“Oh wow, he can run.” Angelito and I were staring in awe as Eric sprinted across the field with at least ten zombies chasing him. “Is he being chased by the soccer team?” Angelito asked me, still in awe.
“Or the track and field team. That has to be the most traumatizing image of the day,” I told Angelito as we watched them running away. That was karma for all those horrible running sessions he had put us through. At least he was running. I had no time to chase them.
“Isis, you need to hurry. Bartholomew is in trouble,” I heard Constantine tell me in the earpiece.
“On my way,” I told Constantine. “You two need to get out of here,” I told Angelito and Abuelita.
“No way, dear. You need help. We can take a few out from here for you.” Abuelita was smiling at me. “Family doesn’t leave when things get messy. Go. We’ll guard your rear.”
She was serious; they weren’t leaving. What had I done to deserve people like this in my life?
“And it is a nice rear,” Angelito added and ruined the moment. I rolled my eyes.
“Just be careful and don’t let them bite you.”
Angelito gave me a look like I had lost my mind. “Bite me? Girl, those things are not getting near me. Go Wonder Woman, save the day.” Angelito could never be serious, even under attack.
It was hard to run with all the zombies, so I just shot them down. I wasn’t sure who was a zombie or who were the regular humans being attacked by the zombies. We had blood everywhere. I heard a loud explosion from the opposite side of the park. It shook the ground.
“Constantine, what was that?” I could see flames over the trees. The sound made all the zombies in the area run in that direction.
“Bob just took out one of the pie stands,” Constantine said.
“With what? A missile?” Why was I even asking? I should know by now my people did not believe in overkill.
“In tough times, we must improvise,” Constantine told me very calmly.
I shook my head and kept on running.
CHAPTER 36
It took me longer than I had hoped to get to Bartholomew. He was at the far end of the park, near the Frisbee golf trail. Why did Texarkana have a Frisbee golf park? Something to ponder on my next run. When I finally made it to where Bartholomew was, I was impressed. Give a boy genius unlimited funds and he will build you an eight-foot, fully functioning robot. That thing was huge. It was like a cross between Ironman and the Pacific Rim robots. No wondered he was stressing. That was a massive undertaking.
I wasn’t sure what capabilities Bartholomew’s Terminator had, but now he was using it to swat zombies away. Bartholomew was keeping the zombies at bay, but they kept coming. He was going to be overrun in less than a minute. I pulled my second paint gun and took off at a full sprint. If Death’s gift augmented my natural abilities, I was praying for perfect aim now. I couldn’t afford to miss a single one. I cleared the field in less than thirty seconds, shooting with both guns. I had never played baseball, but I had seen enou
gh players sliding into a base to know the drill. I slid in next to Bartholomew, making sure his rear was covered. I had cleared a path that looked like a runway.
“Nice. That was a great entrance,” Bartholomew said when I stood up by him.
“Practicing my moves.” We gave each other a fist bump and a smile. “You’re a tough man to find, Bart.” I passed him my extra gun and we started taking the zombies out within his perimeter, about twenty feet wide.
“Not my idea to put the robot judging area this far. I think they were trying to leave space for the relay races.” I wondered if those were the kids chasing Eric.
I took off my backpack and handed him extra ammo. I added more to my gun to be on the safe side. Bartholomew was firing, taking zombies out.
“How many people do you think she fed?” he asked rather casually.
“Probably the whole town. I wondered if she was giving them away at every school in the four states area. They just keep popping up.” I glanced around and we still had humans in the area. “Why are those kids still here?”
“They think this is part of the event. They’re convinced it’s all a hoax and they refused to go,” Bartholomew said. We watched a group of kids climbing the stage and throwing stuff around.
“They can’t possibly believe that.” I glanced over at Bartholomew to make sure he wasn’t joking.
“The human mind can’t process this kind of situation. Besides, we have years of brainwashing that things like this could never happen. It’s easier to deny it’s happening than believe in the alternative.”
I looked around and wondered how it was possible not to believe. “They don’t even believe in God anymore. Do you honestly think they’ll believe in this?” Bartholomew was right. People only believed in the power of the dollar. Nothing else mattered.
“Bart, please tell me they are not still eating pies.” I looked around and saw kids stuffing their faces with fried pies. “This will never end if we don’t stop them.”
“I’m afraid they were giving the pies away for free. People are turning a lot faster,” Bartholomew said over the shoulder. Our backs were touching as we took out more zombies. After five minutes of straight shooting, the place was finally cleared.
“I’m pretty sure she increased her doses for those pies.” I lowered my weapon and wiped my forehead. I was drenched in sweat. “Constantine, we need to blow up that pie stand.”
“Oh really, now you want me to blow something up. What happened to that whole speech to behave? Oh, how the tables have turned.” Constantine was dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes, mentally slapping Constantine over the head. Bartholomew looked at me, perplexed. I noticed he wasn’t wearing an earpiece.
“Are you going to do it or not?” I demanded.
“Of course I am, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to point out how right I am.” Constantine was proud of himself. “Just a small problem: unless you want me to take out the humans and zombies, you need to clear the area.” I looked over at the stand. Zombies were charging the group of kids. The madness didn’t end.
“Bartholomew, what can Terminator do to draw attention? We need to get the zombies over here, so we can get those kids out. I’m open to anything.” I was running out of ideas. Charging headfirst into battle was getting old. I was not made to be an infantryman.
“Yes, I’ve been waiting all day to try this.”
I didn’t realize when Bartholomew had dropped his remote control. Probably because I was busy shooting angry zombies. Bartholomew retrieved it from Terminator’s feet and started pressing buttons and levers.
“Bart, what exactly are you doing?” I wasn’t ready for missiles to go flying from our tall friend.
“I made some preset functions that’ll run in automatic. That was the part that was taking me so long to get the programming so it would flow. I finally got all the bugs out. We need to stand back.”
I grabbed Bartholomew’s gun and stepped back ten feet. I had no idea what Bartholomew was up to. “Is he going to explode?” That would be a lot of shrapnel flying everywhere.
“It’s better. Ready?” Bartholomew asked and I nodded. I was ready as I would ever be. Bartholomew hit a button and music started blasting from Terminator.
“Is that Mozart La Para?” I asked Bartholomew. Bartholomew was playing a Latin Reggaetón that roughly translated as “The monsters have arrived.”
“You know, it’s perfect.” I had to admit it, he was right. What happened next blew my mind away.
“Oh my god, he dances?” That was the understatement of the century. Bartholomew had made a dancing robot. “Bartholomew, you are a genius. How did you pull this off?”
Bartholomew was glowing. “Baby, I got skills.” Bartholomew bragged and he deserved it. Terminator was amazing, doing head rolls to side steps. “You can admire my work later; our friends are coming.” Bartholomew pointed at the crowd of zombies running from everywhere. I had completely forgotten the whole point of this. Bartholomew had done it, the music was blasting, and the zombies were coming.
“Bartholomew, how long can Terminator last like this?” I was hoping he wasn’t going to die on us and have that stampede of zombies turn on us.
“He has three loops of dances. At that pace, he can last about forty-five minutes without needing a charge.”
“You are not allowed ever to doubt yourself again, got it?!” I told him as we made our way across to the pie stand.
“He’s pretty impressive.” That was an understatement. Bartholomew had no idea how talented he was. “I hope you don’t mind; I used your running mix music.”
“I’m flattered.”
We made it to the pie stand to find three kids staring at Terminator. They were probably all late teen or early twenties and drunk out of their minds. No wonder common sense wasn’t kicking in.
“Dude, that is amazing!” First drunk boy screamed at Bartholomew. Who said dude anymore?
“This is the best costume party ever,” his drunken friend added.
“Hey sexy, you should dance with me,” the third stooge told me as he started moving. I wasn’t sure if he was only drunk or high as well. Terminator had changed songs to Don Miguelo’s “Llevo La Vainita.”
“That’s my song!” Screamed my new fan. Bartholomew and I looked at each other in disbelief.
The three stooges broke out into a dance number. Seriously, I love music more than most people, but this was not the time for dancing. The boys were even twerking. Larry and Curly were humping my legs and Moe probably had an epileptic seizure. Liquid courage made people do stupid things.
“I would never drink,” Bartholomew told me as he watched the horrible scene.
“That makes two of us.” I tossed my gun over my shoulder and grabbed two of our dance troops by the neckline. “Bart, grab that one.”
We dragged the stooges about twenty feet away. I’d rather face zombies than drunken boys. They were not cooperating at all and thought it was a game. I considered shooting them, but I didn’t want to drag them.
“Constantine, hurry. It’s cleared.” I wasn’t sure how long we could hold these three.
“Watch your eyes.” That was all the warning we got.
“Incoming!” I shouted at Bartholomew. We hit the dirt as quickly as possible.
When Constantine blew things up, he did it in style. I had no idea what he used, but that little booth went up in flames with a blast. When I looked up, our three stooges were flat on their backs from the impact, as well as every zombie within the area. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t feel too bad that the boys were out. They had that coming for being foolish.
“Bart, are you OK?” I asked him.
“Maybe we should have told Constantine the stand wasn’t that big,” Bartholomew told me as we slowly got up.
“Doubt it would have made a difference.” I was wiping dirt from my clothes again. I had spent a lot of time on the ground today.
“You said take it
out. You don’t get to pick how,” Constantine supplied. “Isis, enough playing. I spotted the accountant near the fountain.”
“Are you sure?” I was trying to get my bearings.
“Don’t question me, girl. I got the skies.” Constantine hissed at me. “You better hurry. She has a basket with her.” Who did she think she was, Red Riding Hood?
“Bart, I got to go. Can you hold this down?” I took my rifle and backpack off.
“Terminator and I got this.” He smiled back.
“Good. Here, let’s switch.” We traded guns and I gave him my backpack. “Watch the stooges now. If they get wild, shoot them.”
“My pleasure.” Bartholomew looked dangerous. I was afraid the trio might get hit just for the hell of it.
“Constantine, give me a status.” I took off running. No time to question the sanity of my decisions.
CHAPTER 37
With the amount of running I had done this week, I was ready for the Olympics or the Bataan Death March in White Sands, New Mexico. Either one was probably less painful than this. I ran at full speed toward the lake area. Based on Constantine’s instructions, our accountant probably had a car on that side of the park. If I didn’t catch her, she could take South Park Road, which intercepted the park. I worked hard not to hate people. Hate was a powerful emotion, but I honestly despised that woman. My friends were dying and Texarkana was in chaos because of her. A loud explosion went off behind me.
“We’re in luck; Bob just blew up the third stand. Food threat eliminated. Now we need to neutralize the accountant,” Constantine told me.
I made it to the lake to find the accountant passing out pies left and right. Why would anyone take food from a stranger? Probably because we were in the south and she looked harmless. I wasn’t sure if I should knock her pies out of people’s hands or come back later. No time now. I had no idea what car she was driving. I didn’t see a Nissan anywhere. Bartholomew’s music was so loud the whole placed sounded like a carnival. People were oblivious to the danger they were in.
