Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time

by Richard Johnson

  “Can I get you to follow me?” he said between wet coughs. The desperate animals timidly complied, and a minute later Mike unlocked one of the gates by the parking lot and shooed them to freedom. The last giraffe lowered its head as if to say thanks, and then followed the others to a nearby grove of trees where they hungrily tore into the foliage.

  Mike had no time to celebrate as he doubled over in pain and vomited bloody mucous onto the wet pavement. He had one last place to check and at this point would have to crawl. Mike continued on willpower alone and his knees left a red trail behind him that was quickly washed away in the downpour.

  What seemed like an eternity later, he reached the bear cave he’d spent so much time in, only to find it full of zookeeper corpses and empty of bears.

  “Shit,” he said and rolled onto his back to stare into the sky, expecting his last vision to be the tempest responsible for his demise. Instead, he got to witness a badly injured zombie crawl on top of him. “Shit!” he said much louder this time while struggling to hold the chomping creature back. Dying or not, nobody wants to get bitten.

  The thing pressed down so close he could smell its fetid breath and feel its heart racing with anticipation. With one final effort, Mike pushed as hard as he could, but his strength was gone, and the zookeeper surged forward.

  It was at that point Mike learned how the zombie ended up injured in the first place. The massive brown bear known affectionately as Snickers picked the zombie up and began ripping it limb from limb. With a mighty roar, the bloodied bear stood on its hind legs in victory, then advanced towards a shivering Mike.

  The twelve-hundred pound beast sniffed the air as it came in for a closer look, and then planted a massive lick on Mike’s face. He’d helped raise the bear as a cub years earlier after all. Reuniting with his old friend energized Mike enough to get him to his knees one final time, and he began the crawl back to the exit while Snickers followed him like an attention-starved puppy.

  It was slow going but he eventually reached the open gate. Before Mike could say goodbye though, he stopped dead in his tracks, literally, as the sickness robbed his humanity. Snickers recognized something had changed and sniffed his special friend once more.

  Mike calmly stood up, no longer feeling any pain besides the growing hunger in his stomach. As he began his search for human flesh, the nine-foot beast opened its enormous mouth and chomped down on the new zombie’s neck, killing it instantly.

  After mourning for what it thought was its mother, Snickers the bear wandered through the gate and into the raging storm, frightened and alone once more.

  Chapter 35

  Deadeye

  Brooke smiled as she cleaned her puke from the floor. It was an odd reaction for sure, but she had been trying to get pregnant, as selfish and crazy as it was. Women hadn’t stopped being mothers throughout the countless wars and famines of history, and this scenario wouldn’t be an exception. At least that’s what she told herself.

  But now Brooke wanted to make sure it actually was morning sickness and not mild food poisoning from her random diet of canned goods and rainwater. To do that she’d have to sneak away from her sleeping roommate and grab a pregnancy test from the nearby convenience store. Since Charlie’s men had gone medieval on the zombies in the neighborhood and she hadn’t even seen one in days, she hoped it would be a cakewalk.

  Brooke tiptoed downstairs and unlocked the multiple locks on her front door, then grabbed the wooden softball bat wedged against the stairs. That would be coming with her.

  Next, she studied the area in front of her apartment for a full minute, ready to pop back inside at a moment’s notice. It was quiet, so she took a deep breath and sprinted over. There were no zombies, no stereotypical female tripping and injuring herself, nothing. Brooke walked inside without incident, but her heart still pounded as she began to rummage around the foul-smelling store.

  Picked clean of anything useful by her new boyfriend and the other marauding neighbors, Brooke figured a pregnancy test should still be there amongst the trash. She just had to find it. Two minutes turned to five, five to ten, and she was about to give up. The sun was rising and her return trip would already be more dangerous because of it.

  Brooke searched one last pile when movement from the corner of the room caught her attention. Before she could turn though, small hands crawled up her back and onto her shoulder. Brooke stifled a scream and fumbled for the bat until she saw her reflection in the shoplifting mirror. It was no tiny zombie resting on her, but a raccoon. A raccoon named Elvis to be precise.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack, little girl,” she said and stroked the ornery creature’s chin. “But your friends are gonna be so happy to see you. Speaking of happy…” Brooke spotted a pregnancy test peeking out from under several boxes of condoms. “Jackpot.” She squatted over the white handle and did her business, then picked it up and waited a minute before checking. One red bar. She waited a little longer. Two red bars meant Brooke had a bun in the oven.

  The front door swung open and she froze in place while several men barged in, speaking a harsh-sounding foreign language. Brooke pulled up her shorts and crept into the bathroom as the moment of joy turned to one of pure terror. Once inside, she locked the door and stood back, clutching Elvis in one hand and her Louisville Slugger in the other.

  * * *

  Private Wu shut the door behind him and surveyed the ransacked store. “The sun’s coming up, so unless we want to end up like Cai, we rest here. Finding the tank can wait.”

  “Sounds good,” Private Lin said and fingered through a stack of nudie magazines.

  Wu frowned. “Damn, I thought there would be food here. I guess it’s back to pork roll with mustard potato.”

  “You don’t like egg roll?” Lin asked and looked up from a copy of Drunken Babysitter.

  “Of course I like fucking egg roll. Just not three weeks in a row.” Wu turned to Yi Chen. “Duànbèi, make yourself useful for once and guard the door. I gotta shit.”

  Chen scowled as he moved behind the cash register with his assault rifle. Not that he had much firepower left. Their mission had been a total disaster, and his comrades hadn’t shared Private Cai’s rounds following the radio specialist’s demise. As it was, Chen had three clips left, and even if they found the tank soon, with every man for himself, getting back to the unit was a pipe dream.

  Wu jiggled the handle to the unisex bathroom. “Why’s this locked?” Lin came over to investigate and the two raised their rifles as Wu kicked the door in. The last thing they expected to see was a flying raccoon wearing a pirate shirt, but that’s what they got.

  Screaming like a banshee, Brooke threw Elvis at Wu and swung at Lin as the man raised his weapon to parry the blow. The force knocked the rifle from Lin’s grasp, and Brooke aimed next for the man’s head. But Wu quickly tossed the raccoon off and used his own rifle to knock Brooke unconscious.

  Elvis scampered away as Wu scowled and wiped his bloody forehead. “After I deal with this round-eye, we skin that rat and have a decent meal for once.”

  Lin grinned with anticipation as sweat formed on his greasy forehead. “A dinner date?” They both chuckled while dragging the prone woman into the middle of the store, dumping her onto a pile of paper towels.

  Brooke woke up but kept quiet in order to eavesdrop. Although she didn’t know their language, one of them pulled her shorts down and it was crystal clear what they were after. Brooke opened her eyes and struggled. “Please stop, I’m pregnant!”

  Wu’s lecherous eyes widened in glee as he recognized a word from his rudimentary English training. “Pregnant?” he said while nodding his head vigorously. “I can make pregnant! I can make pregnant!”

  At this point, Chen set his weapon down and approached the trio, stone-faced as usual. He took off his belt.

  “Wait your turn,” Lin said with the same deviant chuckle. “Besides, I thought you were a—” The latest insult was cut short as Chen broke the teenage co
nscript’s windpipe with a powerful chop to the throat. Lin mouthed a silent scream as he fell to the ground and suffocated amongst the garbage.

  Wu reached for his rifle but tripped on the pants tangled around his ankles, and the athletic Chen was upon him. He wrapped the belt tightly around the man’s neck and slammed his head into the floor repeatedly. The first blow made Wu bite his own tongue off, the second shattered his teeth, and the third broke his jaw. Unfazed, Chen pounded the soldier’s skull until all that remained was an oozing mess of meat and bone fit for a butcher’s block.

  Chen rose and then stumbled briefly as the crazy flow of hormones subsided. He steadied himself and walked over to the blonde woman cowering on the floor.

  She was obviously convinced the violent beast would take over where the others had left off, and Chen realized how he must appear, shaking with righteous fury and covered in his squad mate’s blood. So he smiled sheepishly and spoke the only English words he could remember. “Pizza. Batman. New York.”

  Brooke sobbed, this time with relief, as she realized the soldier meant no harm. She straightened her torn clothes and threw her arms around the odd savior. “Thank you,” she whispered and buried her head into his chest.

  Yi Chen had no clue what the attractive woman said, but her honeyed voice sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach all the same. Her warm tears trickled down his neck and mixed with the even warmer blood of his victims. She felt soft and frail against his skin, and her trembling body reminded him what it was like to be a man. He took in a deep breath. It was the first time he’d smelled a woman in three years and the scent was intoxicating. Too intoxicating. Chen’s heart had just pumped a year’s worth of adrenaline and testosterone throughout his body, and the girl’s complete helplessness began setting off dormant predatory instincts.

  Like a character from a classic werewolf movie fighting off a deadly transformation, the champion athlete closed his eyes and reigned in the sinister thoughts. It wasn’t easy. He hugged the girl again, a little too hard, and breathed in deeply once more, taking her essence in one final time before releasing his grasp.

  Next, Chen retrieved a sidearm from one of the bodies and placed it in the palm of her hand. “Gāi zǒu le,” he said, telling her to leave and pointing to the door.

  Brooke nodded goodbye and sprinted outside, leaving Elvis behind in her rush to escape. An instant later, the pregnant woman was back in the safety of her apartment, nursing a bruised forehead and a damaged psyche, but otherwise fine.

  Chen smiled as he watched her disappear from his sight forever, knowing he’d proven himself once more to the memory of his beloved wife. Left alone in no man’s land, he realized he could be joining her at any moment. However, that wasn’t his plan, so Chen loaded up on ammo, left bite marks on the dead in order to cover his crime, and picked up the search for the missing tank. He found it thirty seconds later.

  The burned out hull was literally around the corner. If they’d made one more turn, his squad mates would still be alive. Not that Chen cared.

  He gave a quick inspection of the tank and turned to leave when a flash of color caught his eye. Inexplicably, in the midst of all this death and destruction, a single flower grew from a pile of dirt in the middle of the road. It was so out of place, so utterly impossible, and yet, so beautiful. It had to be a sign from Chunhua. With tears forming in his eyes, the reluctant warrior knelt to smell the rose and focused his thoughts on happier times.

  * * *

  Charlie manned the heavy machine gun the moment he saw the Chinese soldier approach. He waited patiently for more troops to come into the kill zone, but none did, and it seemed the man was alone. Oddly enough, the soldier stopped and smelled the flower they’d planted in Blake’s memory, and Charlie lined up his shot. Something felt wrong about it though, and so he hesitated. This was a human being, not a zombie.

  The feeling soon passed and Charlie pulled the trigger, riddling the man with .50 caliber rounds. It was not as satisfying as he had expected.

  Chapter 36

  The Blindside

  “You’re saying the dog won’t make it without getting medicine?” Marquell asked the prison doctor.

  “That’s right. With all of the vomiting, Toby is going to need subcutaneous water treatment, anti-nausea medicine and antibiotics. Pancreatitis is a very serious condition.”

  Heather’s voice trembled. “I told you those idiots brought back the wrong food, and now my dog’s going to die?”

  Marquell was not about to disappoint her again. “He’ll be fine. I’ll get the stuff myself, you’ll see.”

  Heather scoffed. “Great.”

  “You don’t want me to go?”

  She sighed and put her hand on Marquell’s broad chest, changing her tone. “I’m sorry. That’s very big of you, Marky. This would mean a lot to me.”

  “It’s settled then. Doc, you’re coming with so we get the right stuff. Fausto, go round up the twenty hardest motherfuckers here and get ‘em suited up. We leave in an hour.”

  Exactly one hour later, Marquell met Heather at the main gate for a proper sendoff. “I’ll be back quick, baby-girl. You’re in charge and my man Fausto will do anything you tell him to while I’m gone.”

  Heather hugged the man responsible for the death of her husband. “Be careful, but hurry.”

  Full of confidence, Marquell boarded the prison bus and led the caravan of hardcore criminals full steam ahead into the wild lands beyond. They didn’t make it fifty yards. Hitting a solid wall of zombies, the bus tires spun uselessly in the muck as the body count piled up. His men blasted shotguns out of the windows while the rest of the convoy arrived on motorcycles and four wheelers. It was gruesome work, but after plenty of gunplay and a little chainsaw action, the bus broke free of the carnage. The Dirty Two-Dozen sped off into the distance.

  Heather was unimpressed. “Take me back to my room.” Minutes later the two were alone in Marquell’s opulent headquarters. He’d taken every nice object in the prison for his own personal space, no matter the interior decorating implications, and the results would have made Saddam Hussein proud. The first lady of the prison put her dog in his tiny bed and sat on the edge of her own. “You have to do whatever I say, right?”

  “That’s boss’s order,” Fausto said, wondering what she was after.

  She pointed downwards. “Then get to work. I need to relieve some tension.”

  “I don’t think that’s what he—”

  Heather’s temper flared. “You aren’t supposed to think, monkey boy.”

  “Marquell would chop off my cojones.”

  “You saw what happened outside. We won’t be seeing them again. Consider this an audition.”

  Fausto wondered if this was some cruel game to test his loyalty. “He’ll be back.”

  “Don’t you want to know how I got Marquell so pussy-whipped?” she said and batted her cold eyes.

  “Relax, lady.”

  “Have you been in prison so long you only like boys? Are you a chevalla now?”

  “A sissy? Bitch, you must be crazy talking to me like that. Don’t you know what I’m capable of?”

  Heather was unimpressed. “I know what you’ve done, but what you’re capable of still remains to be seen. Now don’t make me tell you again.” She hiked up her skirt and revealed smooth skin and a thin black thong.

  Fausto rubbed his hands through his hair as the dilemma consumed him. In the end, questioning his machismo proved too much, and the hired gun dropped to his knees in defense of his manhood. Fausto didn’t even notice the screwdriver until it penetrated his ear canal and scrambled his brain.

  “Typical man,” Heather said and pulled the bloody tool out while Fausto writhed on the floor like a beached fish. Finished with the amateur lobotomy, she turned to her puppy that was cowering in the corner. “Mommy won’t make you drink the bad stuff again. No more being sick.” It turned out that the most conniving person in the prison hadn’t been the warden or his replacement
.

  She calmly went to the window and gave a signal by raising and lowering the blinds. In moments the second prison rebellion began in earnest, and it was even bloodier than the first. Vengeance was swift as the guards clamored for payback, beginning with Sharpshooter Gus opening up on the basketball league with his AR-15 from the safety of the watchtower. From there, the orgy of violence reached every corner of the compound, from the kitchens to the greenhouse to the morgue, with the same results.

  The bloodbath was finished in minutes and Marquell’s reign was over. If he did make it back, he’d be walking into a buzz saw. For the third time in the prison’s short history, there was a new sheriff in town. Only this one had fake boobs, a manicure and a tan.

  Chapter 37

  Steve Winwood

  Charlie brought the women over early on the morning of their planned escape to meet his friends for the first time. It went about as well as expected.

  “I wouldn’t fuck you if I was on fire and your dick was an extinguisher,” Kate replied to a clumsy advance from Left-Nut. He still had it.

  “Ah snap,” Smokey said while applying war paint to Russ with a permanent marker.

  “Oh come on, why not?” Left-Nut asked. “We’re all pals here. You wouldn’t bend for a friend?”

  “Isn’t that what you and Mike did?” Russ said, causing the red-faced jerk to shut his mouth.

  Charlie waved his hands. “Guys, focus. The sun’s rising so there’s no room for jacking around.” Finally directing the conversation back on topic, they went over the plan one final time and mobilized to make their move.

  Trent tied Brandon to his back and prepared to cross the ladder bridge first. “Ready to go, little buddy?” he said, not expecting an answer.

  “Elvis,” Brandon replied quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken to them.