by Wallen, Jack
“Party!” Billy shouted as he walked into the kitchen, beers in each hand. Through the swinging doors, the crowd in the bar could be heard. Toque had manned the bar long enough to get the night started and then retreated to the kitchen, where he could feed and toast his dear friends.
“Damn, I love that sound!” Kitty exclaimed.
“The soundtrack of life,” Toque replied.
Billy offered one long-necked drink over to Kitty, who planted a welcoming kiss on his lips and then took a generous pull of booze from the bottle.
Toque stood at the stove, flipping meat. No matter the source, the sizzle and odor emanating from the grill was intoxicating to all within range.
Max leaned in beside him, staring and sniffing. “You know…meat is murder.”
Toque pressed a patty with his heavy-duty spatula. “Unless it murders you first, Morrissey.”
Max patted Toque on the back. “I like you, Mr. Toque.”
“The feeling, Mr. Angst, is quite mutual. But then…a friend of Kitty’s is a friend of mine.”
Max fingered one of the patties on the grill. “You sure that shit is safe?”
Toque slapped away Max’s offending digit with his spatula. “One hundred percent, Mr. Angst. That microwave we pilfered kills the virus in the same way it’d kill salmonella, botulism, or the hep.”
Max opened his mouth to interrupt. Toque stopped him short with a raised hand.
“I know what you’re thinking…microwaves cannot kill viruses. All things being equal, that would be an absolute bit of fact. However, all things are most certainly not equal here. First and foremost, that is not a standard microwave and—more importantly—I have made a few modifications to boost its power. You see, what actually kills the virus is two-fold. The first bit is that the flesh must have been separated from the nervous system—the brain. Second is the heat…and that comes in two stages—the microwave and then the grill. The molecules that comprise the Mengele virus cannot withstand that level of radiation combined with the intense heat. So long as this ground Chuck—if that was the gent’s name—gets blasted for at least one hundred and twenty seconds by that overclocked, nuclear toaster oven, this meat is as safe as cow, pig, or Soylent Green.”
“Dude, we’ve got to find a copy of that film!” Todd said to Tom. “That would be bad-ass to show on the screen.”
Tom leaned in from behind and nodded. “Hell yeah, Todd. I like the way you think.”
“Speaking of which,” Kitty started. “We have anything special planned for tonight’s show?”
“You mean other than to rock like every motherfucker’s watching?” Todd Flash did his absolute worst air guitar.
Billy slapped Todd in the chest. “Dude, how many times have I told you? No air guitar.”
“Fine,” Todd said, and then broke out his best air drumming.
Max sidled up beside Todd and said, “No, no, Flash; you’re doing it all wrong. Hit the snare with your left hand and the high hat with your right.”
Todd tossed an imaginary stick into the air and, when he caught the ghost stick, he switched positions and started drumming in a truer fashion. While he slapped at the air, Todd looked to Kitty and smiled. “Actually, little Miss Rowr, Tom and I do have something quite special planned for the evening.”
Toque handed a zomburger to Kitty. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Toque, you know if I were ignorant as to the source of your meat, I’d wrap my fingers around that bad boy and go all Carl’s Jr. on it.”
Toque tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
Billy grabbed the burger and slowly lifted it to his mouth. “Let me demonstrate.” Before anyone could protest, Billy placed his puckered lips against the meat and gyrated his hips.
“Oh, God,” Todd spoke through a mocked vomit. “Someone please gouge out my eyes. No…that won’t do it. You’re just going to have to kill me. Kill me now.”
Billy continued his meal of shame. He opened his mouth wide and shoved the burger in deep. As he bit down, he let his lips linger over the bun a bit too long.
“Yes, yes…I believe I’ve seen enough for a few lifetimes,” Toque offered as he covered his eyes.
Kitty was amused, her laughter encouraging Billy on. He finally pulled the burger from his mouth and then ran a finger around his lips to wipe away the sauce and juice. Finally, for an unforgettable curtain call, he jammed his finger into his mouth and wrapped his lips tight on the third knuckle.
“Oh, God, it’s happening,” Tom cried out, and bent over.
Ever so slowly, Billy retracted his finger…his lips pleading for it not to exit.
In an explosion of pure joy, Kitty squealed and clapped.
Billy bowed. The rest of the men in the room were bent at the waist…for a very different reason.
“A piece of me just died,” Todd hissed.
Max unleashed a wall of laughter. “Oh, holy hell…that was the best thing I’ve seen in years.”
“Bat, you are one messed-up bastard,” Tom said with feigned disgust. “I love ya anyway.”
Toque glanced at his watch. “Well, gang, looks like it’s time for you to do your thing.”
Todd raced to the door and blocked the exit. “Hold up. Tom and I put together a little movie we were hoping to play before the set. If you guys don’t mind?”
The band glanced between one another until all eyes were on Kitty. She smiled and offered the slightest nod.
“Of course, Todd. Roll your masterpiece.”
“Hell yeah!” Todd squealed and exited the room.
Kitty, Billy, Tom, Max, and Toque followed Todd into the bar and stood in the periphery. Without a word, Todd dimmed the lights and hit play on the laptop.
The screen on the back wall of the stage came to life with the Kitty In A Casket logo. The crowd unleashed a sonic boom of applause that sent the logo fading into darkness. Next on the screen was a close-up of Kitty. She smiled and waved; her eyes offered a pre-apocalyptic twinkle that had since faded. The camera panned out to reveal the whole band standing before the Kitty Mobile. In Max’s place was Mike Machine, flipping off the camera and getting slugged by Billy.
The camera drew in close to Kitty. An unfamiliar, disembodied voice asked a simple question.
“What are you most looking forward to on this tour, Kitty?”
Kitty grinned and batted her overlong eyelashes. “Helping people, all over the world, to forget their lives, even if only for a moment. If we pull that off, we’re doing our jobs.”
The camera panned over to Billy. “What about you, Billy the Bat? What are you most looking forward to?”
Billy tossed a sidelong look at Kitty and, with a wicked grin, said, “Groupies!”
Kitty punched Billy in the shoulder. The scene erupted into bouts of uncontrollable laughter and faded to black.
The screen came back to life, bouncing between cameos of the band in various locales…until it landed on that fateful night when the Kitty Mobile broke down and the band made first contact with the undead. The crowd booed and hissed at the sight of Moaners.
Popcorn and epithets were sent flying at the screen, fueled with anger and spite. Toque thought he’d have to hit the lights and kill the fun, until the scene shifted to the Casket.
The mood of the crowd instantly swayed back to joy.
Toque released a sigh. Kitty wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned her head into his shoulder. Toque kissed Kitty on top of the head…her every muscle relaxed.
The scene on the screen shifted once again—this time to an outdoor shot of the Kitty Mobile racing through the desert. Kitty stood on top of the moving vehicle, singing her heart out and raising her arms to the sky.
“Midnight Thrill Ride.”
The audience sang along.
Todd glanced over to Kitty and spotted tears making the journey down her cheeks. She offered up a warm smile to let him know all was good. He returned a slanted grin and winked.
He knew wha
t was coming next.
The thrill ride faded and was replaced by a close up of Todd and Tom. Like unmatched twins, they waved at the camera.
Video Todd broke the silence.
“I’m not really that good at this…it’s why I hide behind a guitar most of the time. But Tom and I wanted to take a quick moment to say how much we love being a part of the Kitty In A Casket family.”
Tom took over the narrative.
“Since the Mengele Virus robbed humanity of hope, the only way I’ve managed to keep my sanity is to remind myself that I’m part of something special.”
Focus shifted back to Todd.
“Even before the zombies took over, you guys gave our lives meaning…made us feel like we were part of something greater than its constituent pieces. This video highlights only the beginning of our new world order. We have so much more story to tell, so much life to live…”
Tom interrupted with a shout. “And so much rock to roll!”
Todd shot a sidelong glance at Tom. “That was lame, dude.”
Tom hissed, “Fuck off, man. You’re gonna ruin the message.”
Both men turned back to the camera and stared with blank faces. Ever so slowly, smiles crept back across their lips and they said in unison, their voices filled with a genuine and honest pride…
“We are Kitty In A Casket!”
The band’s logo took over the screen and the audience began chanting the call to bring them to the stage.
“We are Kitty In A Casket!”
“We are Kitty In A Casket!”
“We are Kitty In A Casket!”
The band exchanged glances and smiles. Kitty wrapped her arms around Todd and then Tom before rushing the stage. She grabbed her trusty mic and belted back to the crowd, “We are Kitty In A Casket.”
The audience roared their approval, and Max kicked the band into their latest song, “Gone”. Kitty sang.
Standing at the cemetery
Dark clouds feeling cold and weary
But I finally seem to see clearly again
A lonely tear hits the ground
I know it’s time to turn around and
Let your heart rest in pieces
I’m sure you’ve been hurting too
But this is all just on you
I tried and tried
But you never made it right
You’re
Kitty raised her hands to invite the audience to sing along. As she glanced over the crowd, she spotted Gracie. They locked eyes and Kitty blew the woman a quick kiss. Everyone alive in the Casket sang the first chorus together.
Long gone goodbye
At least I tried
These ups and downs
Will never make me cry no more
Kitty sang the next set of versus solo.
I don’t even know who you are
You’re so close but yet so far away
Never meant to stay, no
I wanted you to want me there
But you rather were anywhere
Else than be part of my life
No matter how hard I tried
I wanted to hold on and on
All these years for so long
Never realizing
You’re
Again, the crowd joined in for the chorus.
Long gone goodbye
At least I tried
These ups and downs
Will never make me cry no more
Long gone goodbye
Don’t ask me why
I tried to make you love me all this time
The whole band sang the final refrain as one.
I’m your blood and your soul
Can anyone be so cold?
Leave me out in the storm
My heart is torn
I am torn
epilogue | betty
Mud’s eyes cracked open. Dim light filtered between his lids, sending a starburst of light beams dancing across his vision.
In a shock of pain, the pre-blackout memory came flooding back. His body convulsed and he sat up…
…in a bed.
“What the fuck?” Mud whispered.
“There he is.” An unfamiliar female voice spoke softly; the lilt of her tone was gentle and easy.
Mud turned his head toward the voice. A woman stood in a corner of the room, staring with wild eyes. She wore a fifties-era dress, with a modern punk flare and patent black Mary Jane heels. Her face was smeared and caked with dirt and blood, her hair a disfigured rat’s nest.
“Who the fuck are you? And where the hell am I?” Mud asked.
“Well, well…where are your manners, Mr. Mud?”
Mud placed his feet on the floor. Even before he could stand, his head swam against a raging current of hurt. “I’ll only ask you one more time. Who the fuck are you?”
The woman took a single step forward. “The one who saved your life…that’s who the fuck I am.”
“Sorry, bitch. You saved the wrong man. I hope you don’t think I’ll all of a sudden feel like I owe you a debt of gratitude. I’ve lived my life with one very important rule…never fall for favors. So you saved me…big fucking deal. Don’t expect the gesture to be returned.”
“Fine.” The woman turned and marched toward the exit of the room. “Reject the one woman who can help you take down the punks that did this to you.”
Mud stood on wobbly legs, a rough-shod splint fashioned over his ruined knee. “Wait.” He swung his right leg forward, only to have it jerked back with the rattle and clang of a heavy chain. Mud glanced downward to see his ankle wrapped in iron. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Mud shouted.
“Sorry, sweetie.” The woman offered a gloriously toothy grin. “I don’t know you enough to trust you.”
“Unchain me,” Mud demanded.
“Sounds like a song…and a damn good one at that. But no…fuck off.” The woman grabbed the handle of the door.
“Wait. At least tell me your name.”
She remained with her back to Toque and spoke softly. “My name is Betty Driver.”
A brief silence overtook the room before Mud whispered, “Stiletto Overdrive?”
Betty remained facing the door. “That’s me. Betty fucking Crocker with a mic and an attitude. My band should be the one playing the Casket. I plan on taking out Kitty and her cadre of punks, if it’s the last thing I do.” She shot a glance over her shoulder. “With your help or not.”
Without another word, Betty opened the door, swished her crinoline-stuffed skirt through, and slammed the door behind her. The sound echoed on as Mud’s gaze remained transfixed on Betty’s image, burned into the retina of his mind’s eye.
“Exquisite,” Mud whispered, and punched a pair of devil horns in the air. He dropped back onto the bed and sang a Stiletto Overdrive song at the top of his lungs.
As the night falls
And the wind calls
He rises from the dead
His bone thin arms
And deadly charms
Will fill your soul with dread
His hand you take
For the devil’s sake
To dance the night away
With rockin’ moves
And undead grooves
You’ll devil horn and say…
Hail, hail, the Zombie King
Drink his life and taste his dreams
If it’s death you want, he’s got the thing
To twist and bleed you dry
Hell, Hell, the Zombie King
His blackened gaze will make you scream
You crave his touch, a deadly thing
To weep and fear the lies
Hail.
Hell.
The Zombie King.
All hail
To Hell
The Zombie King.
In your face
With his slappin’ bass
He’s dressed to the nines
He tweaks a chord
To an undead lord
With a po
mpadour divine
His dead white eyes
And lovely lies
Will steal your breath away
A single kiss
To make you wish
The King was here to stay
Hail, hail, the Zombie King
Drink his life and taste his dreams
If it’s death you want, he’s got the thing
To twist and bleed you dry
Hell, Hell, the Zombie King
His blackened gaze will make you scream
You crave his touch, a deadly thing
To weep and fear the lies
Hail.
Hell.
The Zombie King.
All hail
To Hell
The Zombie King.
The End.
For now.
Hell yeah.
About the Author
Jack Wallen is a seeker of truth and a writer of words. Although he resides in the unlikely city of Louisville, Kentucky, he likes to think of himself more as an interplanetary soul … or so he tells the reflection in the mirror. He’s also the author of:
I Zombie I
My Zombie My
Die Zombie Die
Lie Zombie Lie
Cry Zombie Cry
Fry Zombie Fry
Zombie Radio
T-Minus Zero
The Last Casket
Teenage Wasteland
Frankenstein Theory
Hell’s Muse
The Nails of Calvary
The Dark Seduction
Screampark
Klockwerk Kabaret
Tick Tock Girl
Shero
Shero II: Zombie A GoGo
Shero III: Death by Cosplay
A Blade Away
Gothica
Endgame
Control
