Neeta Lyffe, Zombie Exterminator

by Karina Fabian

  She stopped before her heart pounded its way out of her chest. “Other exterminators are on their way, but we’re closest. We will be the first line. Who’s with me?”

  “Get me a chainsaw,” Gordon demanded. “And a supersoaker of TidyToidy. OOH Rah!”

  Spud stepped forward, as did Nasir.

  “Me, too,” Ted exclaimed, then looked at his flamethrower. “Hear that, baby? We’re doing this in style!”

  “Well, this is what we’ve trained for. Let’s get a move on,” LaCenta said.

  They turned to Roscoe. He stared back with large frightened eyes.

  “Oh, what the hell?” he said. “’Bout time I did something real. Let’s go kick butt and re-kill things.”

  Quickly, Neeta split them into groups. She, Ted and LaCenta would go ahead in her van. Meanwhile, Gordon, Spud, Roscoe and Nasir would find Elouise at the warehouse and grab all the supplies they could, pack them into the ZERD van and follow. She took her group and headed out, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Missy to get an update.

  “Thank God,” Missy said. “Get there fast, honey. Rooney said he’s not seeing any movement in the upper floors. They’re probably in shuffle mode, but as soon as one finds the door—”

  “Has anybody called the National Guard about an air strike?”

  Missy moaned. “Governor won’t authorize it until an actual exterminator is there on the scene to evaluate. You know how he is.”

  Neeta swore. “Stalling. Give me the number?”

  In the parking lot, Ted ran beside her. “I’ll drive. You make calls.”

  When they got near enough to her van, she pointed the fob at it and opened the doors. Ted surged ahead and threw himself into the driver’s seat. He backed the van out and was tearing through the parking lot almost before LaCenta had closed the door. He made a left turn across traffic, cutting off a driver and knocking LaCenta against a storage box.

  “Watch it,” she yelled. “I want to be able to fight when I get there.”

  “No prob!” With a rebel yell of delight, he switched on the sirens and sped through a red light.

  Neeta meanwhile, dialed the governor’s office—and was promptly put on hold.

  She glared sternly at Ted. “If you get Exterminator’s Berserk...”

  He laughed. “Me? No way! I just love having an excuse to drive like this.” With one hand, he cranked the wheel into a tight right turn. He slapped on the blinker midway through.

  “Oh, Lord, have mercy on us and grant us safe journey,” LaCenta began.

  Ted glanced back, and when Neeta yelped a warning, jerked his head forward and swerved to barely avoid a slower car with Pasadena license plates. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious,” he said.

  “I am now!”

  Ted hit the brakes and shouted something very unreligious. “Can you believe this traffic? We’ll never get there.” Suddenly, he jerked ahead, only to get cut off. A lady in a business suit opened her window and flipped him off.

  “Can’t you hear the siren?” Ted shouted at her.

  Neeta snarled at the phone. “The governor’s aide put me on hold. He’s listening to Forrest’s speech. He’s about to have a major infestation of undead, and he’s listening to some tired actor with political aspirations.”

  Ted surged ahead, then careened left, taking the van the wrong way down an alley. “Time to call in the big guns, Neeta.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

  “Not those. We need to get the word to the people—clear the way and stay the hell off the highway. Call that boyfriend of yours and get him on the air!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “That was Ricky Martin ‘Living La Vida Loca’ on K-RTH 101—and speaking of the crazy life, things are getting really crazy on Burbank near Front Street, where a GM Entitlement cut off a Lizzie’s Organic Dressing truck, causing it to veer into the median and roll. Blue cheese dressing is spilled everywhere. There’s a pile-up of over 30 cars. Apparently, that’s not the worst of it. I’ve got Brian St. James, from our morning show, with more. What’s up, Brian?”

  “Cowboy, I just got a call from Neeta Lyffe, Zombie Exterminator. That pileup on Burbank couldn’t have happened at a worse place. There is a known zombie infestation not far, and while they’re normally dormant, that blue cheese smell could draw them out.”

  “No way. Are they on the shamble?”

  “Not last Neeta heard, but the real problem now is there’s no defense on that street. Police are trying to evacuate people, but traffic is backed up. That’s why I’m calling.

  “If you are listening, and you are anywhere near that area, get off the road. Also, clear Victory between Alameda and Burbank. Make room for any exterminator vehicles heading your way. Please! You’ll save lives. If you are stuck in your car or live near there, lock your doors and roll up your windows. In a house, turn on the television low, and then stay away from it. Grab any pesticides and household cleaners you can, ammonia or bleach-based are best—believe it or not, they are your best defense.”

  “How many zombies are we talking about?”

  “Hundreds. Yet right now, six exterminators—the cast from Zombie Death Extreme—and about ten police officers are the only ones on their way.”

  “What? What about the LAPD’s zombie-fighting team?”

  “Assigned to the governor and Forrest at the rally across town. Neeta’s trying to get through to him, but not having much luck. Don’t suppose anyone out there can help with that?”

  * * * *

  Ted took the turn on two wheels and just missed the motorcycle of a California State Patrolman that was setting up roadblocks.

  “Sorry,” he called to nobody, then slammed on the brakes, throwing them all forward as the van skidded to a stop near the patrolman who was watching the warehouse with binoculars and calling in the numbers and positions of zombies shambling their way.

  Neeta stuck her phone into her pocket as she turned to the others. “I want to see the situation myself. In the meantime, start with the defensive perimeter along the exit lanes like I told you. There are CHiPs with shotguns to handle the other areas until we get help.”

  “Rooney’s counted fifty so far,” LaCenta said, her voice high. “All heading this way.”

  Neeta spoke resolutely. “We’re going to contain them. Brian came through. The governor’s calling in the air strike, but it’s going to take time. We have over a hundred people to protect. Right?”

  LaCenta nodded and muttered. “Draw them out. Grenades first, then flamethrowers and squirt guns. Get the leaders.”

  “And activate your helmet cam,” Ted added. “Dave is going to love this.”

  Neeta regarded him with narrow eyes. “You could be enjoying this too much.”

  “Never.” He gave her that grin that sizzled through her, then jumped out, shouting. “Who’s with me?”

  A half dozen police officers joined him in making a left flank.

  “Oh, he is not showing me up,” LaCenta declared and grabbed her equipment. She jumped out the back.

  “Let’s go, people. Saving lives and killing zombies!” She ran down the exit ramp, her corps of policeman following.

  Neeta rolled her eyes and pulled open the car door. She looked around her, taking in the situation.

  West Burbank and the top part of the I-5 exit were littered with dented cars. The GM Deficit that couldn’t slow itself down in time was still wedged into the trailer of the truck, where organic blue cheese oozed and ran in the hot afternoon sun. EMTs and firefighters were hard at work evacuating the wounded and getting the survivors to a central area away from the truck. Glass bottles, the hallmark of Lizzie’s “Down with Plastic! Organic Deserves Glass” philosophy, were broken everywhere, making people move slowly and carefully. She heard a choppy roar and saw a medivac chopper coming in for a landing in a roughly cleared spot.

  She tried to tell herself it wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined. Oh, there was a lot of twisted meta
l and broken glass. She’d rather have seen the chopper farther back, but at least the blue cheese dressing was between the landing area and the warehouse. That might slow the zombies—maybe long enough. Plus, West Burbank was raised slightly at this point. If they could keep the zombies contained in the bowl of the Bedder Rest parking lot, they might have a chance.

  She remembered playing a game once as a child. Her mother had bought a bunch of ladybugs for their garden, and she’d tried to see how many she could keep cupped in her hands. She’d laughed as they’d scrambled through her fingers. It had tickled.

  She shook herself. Zombies don’t tickle. Failure was not an option here.

  Officer Rooney hurried to meet her and handed her the bi-noculars. “About a hundred out so far. Most are staying together, but we’ve got some heading toward the highway and South Front.”

  Neeta thought hard. “Got any marksmen? We need to pick off the stragglers. Even if they just lame them, those zombies that don’t get discouraged will become hamburger for the others.”

  Rooney paled. “Like sharks?”

  “Exactly.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Do you always smile like that on the job?”

  She hadn’t realized she was grinning. “Only when I have to work for my victory,” she said. Hey, it sounded good.

  He chewed on his mustache, deciding if he really wanted to say what was on his mind. She raised a brow.

  “I watch your show. I always thought you’d have to be half-crazy to want your job. Now I know I’m right.”

  “Good crazy?” she asked hopefully. The last thing she needed was for these people to lose confidence in her.

  Fortunately, he grinned. “Oh, sure. What do we do next?”

  Right then, they heard someone clear her throat, and Katie Haskell joined them. “I was just about to ask that myself.”

  “Katie, what are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to see people die? We were on our way to a Sam’s Club for a promo when we heard about the accident. I have a whole truck of B to Z products and two brave defensucators. Where do you want us?”

  Neeta hugged her and told her to split the supplies among Ted’s group, LaCenta’s, and the civilians. “Then you all stay with the civilians. Show them how to use the stuff.”

  Katie gave her a winning smile. “That’s our job.” She ran back to the truck.

  Neeta watched her trot back to the truck enviously. She looked so cool in her sandals and Bermuda shorts; even her T-shirt was cool greens. Despite the heat, the waves of her perky ponytail bounced.

  Neeta sighed. “Someday, they’ll make rubber that breathes.” She checked her helmet and breathing mask and rejoined Rooney at the fence. At six-six, he could see easily over the scrub brush, but not so, her. She stood on a junction box and looked down. She felt vertigo having nothing to do with her position.

  A swarm of zombies flowed out of the factory.

  She clicked on her radio. “Everyone copy? Ted, LaCenta, give me a copy.”

  “Copy.”

  “I’m here. Damn, but it stinks down here.”

  “That’s good. The smell will draw them, but watch for stragglers. They’re going to vector toward the crash, but you have about fifty feet of eight-foot high wall. That’ll discourage them until it slopes down to jumping height. The fence will stall them, too, but we know for a fact they can scale it when motivated. Move your teams farther down the ramp, nearer the gate. That’s the weak link, and they’ll realize it, eventually.

  “If they breech the fence, fall back. Do not engage them in the trees and brush. Like Roscoe said, it’s a stupid idea with one zombie, much less a horde.”

  “Quit rehashing what you told us in the car, and tell us something new,” Ted said.

  “We have strays coming out other exits. Rooney’s getting some sharpshooters to pick them off. Might distract some others—”

  “Well, let’s do that, too.” LaCenta told her team to each pick a spot in the horde and fire.

  From her vantage spot, Neeta saw five cops (then ten as Ted got his team on board) pull out their service revolvers and fire into the swarm. The sharp cracks of the gunshots were followed by a rising moan from the zombies. The foglike stream of zombies wavered and dense pockets of undead eddied as they turned to devour their own kind.

  “Oh, that is sick,” Ted crowed. “Neeta, when you coming to join us?”

  Neeta pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. Had they only been there five minutes? “Soon as the rest of our team arrives. In the meantime, Katie’s brought us presents. Arm as many of your team as you can and pour the rest in a thick line in front of you.”

  “What about reloading our squirt guns?”

  “You really think you’ll have a chance?” Neeta heard the chopper roar overhead, taking another handful of living to safety.

  “Listen to me. If they get past the blue cheese truck, they will go for the victims. At that point, the job is to draw them away. Bring them back up Burbank to me. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Ted, can you set fire to the trees?”

  “They look awfully green, but I’ll try.”

  Neeta sighed in exasperation. The city kept the plant life around the factory green and well kept to hide the horrors it contained. “Only if you think you have time. Otherwise, save your fuel. We can napalm it when the others—”

  She heard the screech of tires and the roar of a Harley and turned to see Elouise Shieldmaiden and Gordon driving up, a ZDE truck close behind.

  “About time. Hang on, the others are here.”

  * * * *

  “Hang on, the others are here.”

  LaCenta felt a wave of relief wash over her—a small wave, granted, but she felt very alone despite the officers and Ted. “Tell them to hurry up,” she snarled into the mike.

  Heat and fear made sweat stream into her eyes, but no way was she removing the visor to wipe her head. Wasn’t that part of what got the damn fool Bergie into trouble? “Got to show off the hair.” What last words.

  Concentrate, woman. They ain’t gonna be satisfied with mangling each other for long.

  A horn sounded behind her, and she saw a B to Z truck drive up behind the line. The side doors rolled open, and a man in a light green shirt with the B to Z logo shouted, “Got supplies.”

  The police started to run to the truck.

  “Wait! Only three of you from each group,” LaCenta shouted. “The rest keep your eyes on the horde.”

  Quickly, the officers started loading up their buddies with a couple of bottles of B to Z All Surface Cleaner. They tucked them into their gun belts by the triggers and slung them over their shoulders with the straps that B to Z placed on each bottle “for easy carrying whether defending yourself on the run or just running from one spill to another.”

  One of the B to Z reps came up to her, his dark skin making the bright cheery green of his t-shirt almost too bright to look at—if it weren’t for those muscles. He had a nametag, but she barely noticed it for the broad shoulders and perfect eight-pack that his tight t-shirt didn’t hide.

  He held out two bottles of toilet cleaner to her. “For you, LaCenta. I...think you’re amazing.”

  Wow, he had gorgeous eyes. She hoped he couldn’t see her jaw dropping behind the helmet. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

  She took them from his hands. They were shaking. She looked back to his face and realized he was terrified.

  “Don’t you worry. We’ll keep them under control, but do me a favor. Pull that truck behind the wreck, then leave the doors open so we can get to the stuff. Then, get out of here and stay safe.” She slid the straps over her shoulder.

  He nodded quickly. “Good luck,” he whispered.

  What a voice! Was he naturally that sexy or was near death heightening her senses?

  If I survive this, I am so going to find out.

  “Hey,” Ted called. “She doesn’t n
eed luck. She’s got skills.”

  The man smiled but didn’t take time to say anything more, just ran back to the truck.

  One of the officers said,” Maybe we should douse ourselves?”

  “No,” LaCenta replied. “Remember what Neeta said—if they get past the wreck, we need to draw them away from the victims. I’m sorry, but they need to smell fresh meat.”

  Beside her an officer moaned.

  “Steady, Adams,” the female cop beside him said.

  “They’re at the fence,” someone else cried.

  The zombies had indeed made it to the fence line, but rather than reaching up to climb the chain link, they just bumped against it. In the meantime, the press of bodies still following the luring scent of spoiling salad dressing was pressing them against the fence, making it harder for them to move.

  Maybe they’d stay that stupid, LaCenta thought. Oh, please stay too stupid to climb.

  “Be ready,” she called.

  Adams pulled out his pistol.

  “No,” LaCenta cried. “Spray bottles. Bullets will just tick them off!”

  He fired.

  Several others followed suit.

  The force of their bullets pushed the struck zombies against those behind them. Those zombies, in turn, grabbed the injured and started tearing them apart. As zombies collapsed into pieces and others bent to grab the remains, the ones behind them began to climb on their backs and reach for the fence.

  “Neeta,” LaCenta wailed.

  * * * *

  Gordon jumped off the bike even before Elouise had stopped and ran up to Neeta. He handed her a sheet of paper. “List of assets, Gunny. What’s the plan?”

  Gunny? Neeta scanned the paper. Only six napalm grenades? She growled under her breath. Meanwhile, the others gathered around. She saw several people jump out besides Spud and Nasir. Good. They needed help.