“You’re getting too old anyway.” Those were the last words he ever said to her.
Wayne would have just left her alone had she just left the show, but she didn’t think quitting was enough. She wanted to get the show cancelled. She led protests against the show, she spent much of her savings on a smear campaign against the television show. She also wrote a book about her experience on the show and gave tons of copies away for free. Eventually, she ran out of money and needed to find work, but she had been blacklisted. She was forced to move to Copper.
The second she stepped foot in Copper, she knew Wayne was going to put her on the next season’s show. The negative publicity was not something he was going to just ignore. He would have his revenge.
So Junko trained every day. She did the military exercises. She studied previous episodes of the show. She practiced every possible weapon, from guns to swords. If Wayne put her on the show, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching her die. She was going to win it.
Then, once she gets back to the island, she’s going to use her new passport to visit the Platinum Quadrant. Then Wayne “The Wiz” Rizla is going to die.
Scavy runs across the street naked except for his underwear and boots—the metal of the sniper rifle cold against his bare skin—following Junko and Rainbow Cat to a place where he can get some new clothing. The camera ball they had lost in the zombie fight finds them and chases after the trio.
“What’s this place?” Scavy asks, as they enter a dark windowless building. He closes the door before the camera ball can squeeze in behind them.
Junko is too busy digging out her flashlight to respond. She flicks it on and moves deeper into the black, to get far away from the entrance.
When Scavy turns on his flashlight, the beam brightens the face of a melty white zombie only inches away from him. The zombie’s hand raised to his face. Scavy shrieks and lowers his naginata spear into its head.
The zombie doesn’t fall. It doesn’t even move, frozen in place.
Junko goes over to the punk, “Shut the hell up.”
Scavy points at the zombie to show Junko why he screamed, but then he notices that the zombie doesn’t look much like a zombie.
“It’s just wax,” Junko says, pulling the spear out of the wax head. “We’re in a wax museum.”
The wax figure had been sculpted after Adolf Hitler, but over the decades the figure had melted into an unrecognizable blob. Adolf’s arm was raised in a sieg heil, but now the fingers had melted into gnarly curls. They look around at many other melted figures surrounding them.
“What did they use wax museums for?” Scavy asks.
“They made sculptures of celebrities and famous historical figures, probably so the public could pretend to meet them in person. Those clothes are real, though. If you can get them off of the sculpture you can wear them.”
Scavy nods and points at Hitler. “Who was this guy?”
“I believe he was one of America’s greatest presidents,” Junko says. “The one who freed the slaves.”
“Cool. I’ll wear his clothes then.”
As Scavy uses the blade of his spear to cut the melted wax off of the sculpture, Junko and Rainbow Cat patrol the area.
“We should get thicker layers of clothing for ourselves as well,” Junko says. “We at least need some gloves.”
All of the melted figures standing around them makes Rainbow Cat feel as if they’re in the middle of a zombie horde. Their faces are sagging in distorted ways, mouths stretched open, eyes popping out, necks melted away completely so that chins sink into chests or heads twist into awkward angles. In ways they are even more horrifying to Rainbow than the zombies.
She looks at one of the sculptures: a pirate man whose dreadlocks have melted and curled so much over time that he looks like a medusa. The sign below the sculpture reads, “Captain Jack Sparrow.” Bites have been taken out of the back of his head, as if a zombie had at one time thought he was a real person and tried to eat his brain.
“These clothes are all waxy,” Scavy yells, as he tries on the uniform.
Junko hushes him and then whispers back, “That’s good. The more water resistant the better.”
They get gloves from other figures: a Michael Jackson sculpture, a Darth Vader sculpture, and a Mork from Ork sculpture. Junko takes the Darth Vader gloves for herself.
“The gloves will make fighting a little more difficult,” Junko says, “but being able to push zombies off of you without getting infected is more important than any weapon.”
Once every inch of their skin below the neck is covered up, they head back toward the entrance. But something of interest has captured Rainbow’s attention.
“What’s that?” she asks Junko.
It is a wax sculpture of a cyborg dog.
“Was it from a science-fiction television show?” Rainbow asks, approaching the soggy animal sculpture.
Junko looks carefully at the animal near Rainbow. It is a large black German shepherd inside of a metal exo-skeleton. Long metal talons protrude from its paws, and mounted on its back are miniature Gatling guns and rocket launchers.
When Rainbow Cat leans down to look into the dog’s eyes, she says, “It looks so fake.”
“Back away from that thing,” Junko tells her.
“Why?” Rainbow says.
She backs away once the wax sculpture begins to growl.
“It’s not fake,” Junko says.
Then the creature lunges at Rainbow.
Junko pulls out her 9mm and fires at the dog’s snarling face, bits of tooth and eye spray over its snout as it barks ferociously. It ceases its attack, giving Rainbow Cat a chance to get away.
As Rainbow gets behind Junko, the Gatling gun on the dog’s back spins at them.
“Get down!” Junko cries, and the trio drops to the floor.
The gun whirrs, but no bullets are fired.
“It doesn’t have any ammo,” Junko says, as they get back to their feet. “Get it!”
Then she charges the creature, revving her chainsaw. The creature charges at her, then jumps in the air with its blade-like talons spread, aiming for her throat.
She cuts its head off in midair. When the headless body lands, it keeps charging forward. It runs past Scavy and Rainbow Cat, piling straight into a display of the cast of M.A.S.H. and attacks the set with its blade-like claws.
As the body of the cybernetic zombie dog rips apart a wax sculpture of Alan Alda, Scavy looks down on the severed dog head. It bites rapidly at the air and licks the pavement with its black tongue. Inside of its neck, there are wires and gears moving within the oozing flesh as if they’re a natural part of the animal’s body.
“I thought you said we should always run away from the zombies,” Scavy says. “But you fought that thing head on.”
“There’s no running away from those things,” Junko says, wiping blood off her chainsaw with a Doctor Who scarf. “They’re just way too fast.”
“So we get to fight these things when we come across them?” Scavy asks, excitedly.
“Not if we can avoid it,” Junko says. “If we run into one that’s fully armed we’re all dead.”
“What are they?” asks Rainbow Cat.
“Mechjaws,” Junko says. “You’ve never heard of them?”
They stare at her blankly.
“These things are responsible for the entire zombie outbreak, fifty years ago.”
Mechjaws were built by the US military several years before the zombie outbreak. They were designed to be immortal killing machines that could replace humans on the battlefield. One mechjaw was worth a thousand soldiers. It could not be killed by bullets. It had no need for food or sleep. It could survive in any terrain. Its orders could be beamed directly into its head from satellite. They were furry machines of death.
But they didn’t realize the serum designed to keep the animals alive could be transmitted by blood. They discovered this during their first field test. The first m
echjaw was sent into the middle east to take out a terrorist cell. The researchers observing the test were pleased with the speed at which the mechjaw shot down each of its targets, but were then shocked by what it did to the corpses after they were all dead. The mechjaw ate all of their brains. Not their flesh, just their brains.
Then, like a virus, the chemical serum was transmitted to the dead terrorists. It brought them back to life and they became brain-eating monsters. The zombie outbreak was contained two days later and, despite the drawback, the project was considered a success.
The US military continued making mechjaws for several months until they learned that the outbreak had not been fully contained. A zombie foot had been left behind in the desert and was eventually eaten by a stray dog, which had become infected and bit a child who had become infected and bit his parents. Within a few days, the outbreak had spread throughout the Middle East and was already hitting Africa and Europe.
When news of the outbreak hit the U.S., the mechjaw project was cancelled. They were just about to salvage the mechjaw machinery and dispose of the organic material, when a group of militant animal rights activists broke into the mechjaw facility and released the dogs. Over two hundred mechjaws were unleashed on the east coast, killing and infecting every human in their path. With no orders to follow, they just followed their instincts: eat and destroy.
Z-Day, as the survivors called it, happened forty-eight hours after the mechjaws were released. That was the day practically every city on the planet had become under siege by the living dead. Some cities had it worse than others, but every city on the mainland was fighting for survival against the hordes of brain-eating undead.
The scientists who created the mechjaws had no idea what they had done. They never knew the serum would work on humans just as well as dogs. In later days, it was discovered that many species could be infected with the virus. It’s mostly restricted to large mammals, from dogs to bears to elephants to pigs, as well as water-dwelling mammals such as whales and dolphins. Smaller mammals, such as rabbits and cats, are immune to the virus. Nobody has ever researched why the virus doesn’t infect smaller mammals. If a cat is bitten by a zombie it does not become a zombie cat, it just dies. Some predict that it has to do with brain size, but that has never been proven.
Junko keeps her eyes on the mechjaw dismembering the wax Alan Alda, as she leads her companions toward the exit.
“We’re going to be in trouble if there’s more of those things in the city,” Junko says.
“Do they usually kill a lot of the contestants in the show?” asks Rainbow.
“No,” Junko says. “They’ve never been in the show before. Wayne always hoped to have mechjaws in the show, but no contestant has ever run into one. There are only a couple hundred of them on the entire continent.”
“So you think we won’t run into any more of them?” Rainbow asks.
When they step out of the door and check to see if the coast is clear, Junko runs into the floating camera ball that zooms in on her face.
“I hope so,” Junko says, then she looks into the camera. “And it would piss the fuck out of Wayne if he knew the only mechjaw attack to ever be on Zombie Survival happened off-camera.”
As they run down the street in their new extra-padded clothing, Scavy thinks about it for a minute. He’s seen enough stray dogs in Copper to know something about their behavior.
“But don’t dogs travel in packs?” he asks.
Junko freezes when she hears his words, then she turns to her left. Staring back at her is a pack of eight mechjaws, licking their scabby lips at her from the windows of a crumbling retro arcade.
“This time we run,” Junko says.
But Scavy is the first one to take off down the street as the mechjaws’ fully-loaded Gatling guns open fire.
Gogo stands behind the doorway of a low income housing apartment building as a gang of Mexican zombies stagger by on the street outside. She holds a silenced submachine gun tight to her chest, waiting for the majority of them to pass. A camera ball floats impatiently behind her shoulder, focusing on her large breasts that barely fit into her sweaty ripped-up white shirt.
“Cerebros!” the Mexican zombies groan. “Cerreebrossss…”
She waits for the last zombie, the straggler. She hopes to shoot out its legs and pull it inside before the others notice. Because her weapon is silenced, the other zombies won’t likely hear it.
Gogo didn’t realize she had a silencer in her pack when she first left the hotel. She just ran for her life, opening fire on every zombie that got in her way. She was the first one out of the hotel and was far ahead of everyone else, but then she started to get lonely and decided to go back for her friends.
She went to a rooftop and ate some kind of fruit and protein bar. All of the rations the show gave to the contestants were in bar form. After she ate the bar, she realized she was still hungry and went for another. That’s when she found the silencer. At first she didn’t know what it was, until she realized it was a piece of her gun.
Gogo likes having the camera watch her. She holds the silencer like a dick between her breasts, rubbing it slightly up and down her sweaty cleavage. Unlike the other contestants, Gogo couldn’t think of a better way to die than as a contestant on Zombie Survival. She likes the idea of being a star. It gets her off knowing that all the upper class men on the island are drooling over her body right now.
The last Mexican zombie in the line is a young tattooed living corpse, who was possibly a gang member in his previous life. As he passes the doorway, Gogo opens her skirt and stretches her thigh out into his view. Her black-painted fingernails caress up the fishnet stockings on her legs, beckoning him to come take a bite out of her.
The zombie turns to her, only seeing one leg and one hand moving beyond the doorway.
“¿Cerebros?” says the zombie, as it enters the building.
Gogo tosses a blanket over him and then wraps him up with an extension cord, binding not only his arms to his sides but also the blanket over his face and torso. Then she closes the door and shoots out the zombie’s kneecaps with her silenced SMG. The other zombies hear their friend’s cries as he hits the ground, but they don’t come back for him.
Gogo smiles seductively at the camera. Then she leans close to the zombie’s ear and says softly through the blanket, “Hey, living dead boy, wanna go for a ride?”
The zombie growls behind the cloth.
Gogo giggles flirtatiously and looks up at the camera ball.
“I’m going to give all of you a show you’re never going to forget.”
Then she drags the body into an apartment room and closes the door.
Gogo has had a zombie fetish for as long as she can remember. Necrophilia of any kind really turns her on, because the idea of sex with the dead (or living dead) seems so sick and twisted to her. She gets off on sick and twisted.
Her boyfriends were never into sick and twisted stuff. One time she was fucking Scavy while Brick was off fucking Popcorn somewhere, riding him reverse cowgirl. As she came, she took a huge dump right on Scavy’s stomach. He saw the log ooze out of her ass onto the soft flesh below his belly button.
“What the fuck!” Scavy shouted.
Gogo laughed. “What?”
“You just shit on me and shit!”
“So?” she asked, as she pulled off of him and looked down at her log of feces.
“I was just about to come when you did that, you bitch,” he said. “Get it the fuck off me!”
Gogo put her face up to it and sniffed at it. The odor was mild, but had strange hints of marijuana and red licorice. The heat coming off of it was warm against her face.
“Don’t stare at it, get rid of it!” Scavy said.
Gogo continued smelling it and examining its textures and curves, like she had just created a work of art.
“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Fuck no.”
“Then why are you still hard?”
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She grabbed his cock and stroked it.
“It turns me on,” she said.
“You’re a fucking freak,” Scavy said.
Then she grabbed a handful of her shit and wrapped it around his penis, masturbating him with her shit as if it were some kind of lubricant.
“Don’t rub it on me!” Scavy cried.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” she said, as she jerked him off.
Scavy couldn’t get himself to tell her to stop. She was masterful at giving hand jobs. She used to give them professionally. Unlike himself and Popcorn, Gogo did go into prostitution rather than drug-dealing when she was young. But she wasn’t just some common street whore, she was an exotic dancer who also sometimes slept with her customers for money. But she said she only did this for fun, when she was in the mood. The problem was she was always in the mood.
Just as Scavy started to get into the handjob and block out the smell of shit on his body, Gogo put his penis in her mouth.
“Oh, no…” Scavy cried, as he watched Gogo suck furiously on his shit-covered dick. “That’s just nasty…”
After he came, Gogo swallowed her shit with his cum, and Scavy almost puked at the sight of it. He jumped out of bed and walked out of her apartment buck naked. He went a block down to the ocean and jumped in, trying to wash away her shit as well as the memory. He promised himself that he would never have sex with Gogo again.
Everyone in Scavy’s crew had sex with Gogo several time and every single one of them had their own crazy story of some sick stunt she pulled on them:
Scavy had the shit story.
Popcorn had a story about Gogo wanting to be fucked by a gun that had been converted into a strap-on. It wasn’t until after they both came that Popcorn learned that the gun strapped to her crotch had been loaded the whole time, with the safety off. If Popcorn had orgasmed just a little harder she would have put a bullet through Gogo’s back.
Zombies and Shit Page 11
