by Jim Couper
Jesse spoke loudly, as if volume would frighten demons. He hadn’t been around much: he said his services had become redundant since soldiers took over so he stayed home to work on his sailboat. For several years he had been crafting it in his basement. Jane suspected he preferred his basement because that’s where he had built a safe room and stocked it with supplies to keep him alive through several atomic wars plus an apocalypse or two. She glimpsed it once when he solicited her opinion on what color to paint his boat and what to name it, although at that time he had little beyond a skeleton with ribs and a backbone. The shelter seemed to be equipped with an oversupply of cans of beans and bottles of water, but what attracted her eye was a floor to ceiling stack of DVDs that, she suspected, were most likely pornographic in nature. Another corner held a ceiling-high stack of beer. Her eyes did not sight a single book or disc of recorded music.
Jesse called to learn about Joey and her role in finding aliens. After a brief preamble he came to the point. “Since Donald had the role of boss, then she was the underling, the assistant. An interesting character, funny in a bizarre way, intelligent, but definitely the sidekick. Expendable. I’m on that list. All the sidekicks are.”
Jane again went into her spiel about how life does not follow a movie script and gave an example, “You were bit by a zombie and you didn’t turn into one. That’s not the way it would happen in a script.”
Jesse grunted agreement and Jane confronted the issue, “You’re scared. I’m scared. We’re all scared. My clothes closet scares me. I’m wearing my gun and every time I hear a noise I jump. I’m afraid I’m going to put a bullet through the wall and through Archie or Matty who live next door.”
For 15 minutes they discussed army ineptitude and how, despite all its weaponry and all the zombie killing devices being sold, the number of civilians killed exceeded zombies killed by a wide margin. Jane added a suggestion, “The streets are fully lighted and I don’t think the army can mistake a cop car for a zombie so I’m thinking of going down to the station to help out. Smith’s on duty tonight and TV people have been pleading for a chance to film and interview a zombie. With all the lights I think media people may swarm the station. You want to be there?”
“Yes, definitely. Which Smith’s on duty?”
“Both Bobby and Robert are in. New captives should be in cells by now and the drug kingpin should be gone. I don’t think the two Smiths are sufficient.”
“Great. Let’s go. I can hardly wait to shine lights in their eyes. Another night in the clink. So much fun last time.”
Jane concluded, “I’ll pick you up in 10 minutes. Pack a sleeping bag and some snacks. Be at the door. I’ll park in front as close as I can get.”
When her car pulled onto the flat lawn, close to where Jesse sometimes parked his cruiser, Jane immediately had a sinking feeling. Jesse threw his gear in the back seat and when she slowly pressed the accelerator the tires spun.
“You’re ruining my lawn,” he protested. “Now I’ve got four sink holes and two ruts.”
The thunderstorm had turned the lawn to mushy mud into which the heavy cruiser’s tires sank. Concentrating on gently rocking the car back and forth, Jane took a few seconds to retort, “At least I’ve killed some of your weeds.”
“We gotta get outta here,” Jesse shouted nervously, stating the obvious. "It's dark." Jane silenced the engine.
“We have to get into your house. Jeeze, Jesse, you didn’t even leave the lights on.”
“Sorry about that. Turning them off’s become a bad habit.”
The car had a full tank of gas and no one could steal it so she restarted the engine and turned on the interior lights, spot lights, headlights and emergency flashers. Both doors opened half way and then slammed shut.
“Did you see that?” Jesse asked as he locked his door.
“Yea, I saw something between the houses. We have to get to your door. Did you lock it?”
“Yes. Key’s in my hand. Flashlight’s ready. Let’s go.”
“Hold on a sec. Have you got the jagged edge of the key facing the right way? You slip the key in: I turn the handle. Clockwise? You realize this is the part where the sidekick drops the key on the porch and it falls through a crack. You won’t do that will you?”
“Course not,” Jesse snapped. “And don’t waste time closing the car door. Three seconds and we’re inside. Three, two, one, go!”
Jesse, closest to the door of his house, got out of the car quickest, pushed off on the soft lawn and slipped in the mud, landing on hands and knees.
“Don’t tell me you dropped the key,” Jane demanded.
“No way.” Again Jesse slipped in his panicked attempt to get to his feet.
“Just take it easy,” she ordered sternly as her own feet slid sideways and she almost went down.
The muddy key entered the lock, Jane turned the handle, the door opened, they stepped inside and relief surged over them. From the shadows three drooling figures lunged. A broken back door hung from one hinge. Jesse flicked a light switch, the zombies raised their hands to shield their eyes, then trundled forward at full lurch. Jane and Jesse compounded the creatures’ discomfort by aiming flashlights at them. The beams flicked from rotted face to rotted face. When rays of light squeezed between fingers and hit their eyes the lumbering monsters stopped. Jesse stomped on a switch that turned on a floor lamp beside a ratty recliner. A full-figured zombie, wearing a rumpled evening gown, knocked over the floor lamp and stepped on its bulb. She seemed to enjoy the jolt of electricity in her feet and stood atop the broken socket until a fuse blew and the house blackened. Two flashes of light accompanied the two bullets that flew from Jane’s gun through the closest zombie’s head, without effect.
“Can we get to your basement?” she gasped.
“Not with them standing there. We can’t go anywhere. Back to the car?”
“No, better off on foot,” Jane replied and they backed out the front door, which Jesse locked to slow the enemy. Jane looked for something to prop the door closed and several tattered figures moved towards them from between houses across the street. Zombies surrounded them. The police duo had no choice but to run for the car, opting to tread carefully and securely rather than speedily over the soft lawn.
Inside the car Jane got the army post on her cell while Jesse talked to the station on the cruiser’s radio. They locked the doors and aimed outside spotlights at approaching figures. Jane again tried to rock free and her cruiser went deeper.
Moving shadows hesitated 10 feet from the cruiser as if its bright lights presented a barrier that could not be breached. Jane looked in the rear-view mirror where objects appeared smaller, but not small enough. An enemy stood within a few feet of the back of the car where lights were fewest. Pushing a foot against the brake pedal turned on a couple more lights as did moving the gear selector to reverse. The added illumination caused the creature to put a hand into a tattered pocket and pull out sunglasses.
A siren broke the icy silence as a police cruiser screeched around the corner, skidded across the grass and slid to within inches of Jane’s car. Now she couldn’t get out herdoor. Constable Purdy, in his passenger seat, couldn’t get out either. The driver of the rescue vehicle, a transplant from another station, spun his tires enough to ascertain that he too was stuck then got out without slipping in the mud. Jane pressed her horn to get his attention and pointed to approaching zombies. The driver looked shocked, seeing the encircling enemy for the first time. His face paled and he turned to jump back into his cruiser but couldn’t because Purdy had crawled across the computers, radios, GPS and other paraphernalia that took up the space between the front seats.
“Get out, open the trunk and find the flares,” Jane ordered. Jesse didn’t jump at the idea with enthusiasm, but accepted that a reasonable order had to be carried out. They rehearsed his moves and agreed it would be a bad idea to slip, trip or do any other inexplicable thing that expendable characters routinely do. As soon as Jesse got out,
the zombie wearing shades strode towards him. Jesse went the other way, keeping the two cruisers between himself and attacker. The trunk lid went up and Jane lost sight of her partner. In the mirror she watched another zombie lumbering towards Jesse, as quickly as a zombie can lumber, but that wasn’t quick enough to prevent him retrieving the flares. Jesse slammed the lid and suddenly Jane viewed a creature clamping a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and pulling him backwards. A gunshot severed the stillness. A hole appeared on the bridge of the predator’s nose and its shades fell in two pieces. To block the light its hands went up and Jesse ran around the side of the car and got in.
“Nice shot,” he panted and handed three of six flares to Jane. She acknowledged her marksmanship with a nod and motioned Purdy to roll down his window, but Purdy didn’t see the gesture. A zombie had his full attention as it pulled the ankles of the cruiser’s driver and dragged him from his car. Purdy clung to his partner’s hands, but the tug-of-war went to the strongest. Jane snapped the top off a self-lighting flare, handed it to Jesse and he lobbed it over the two cruisers, landing it next to the zombie and the struggling policeman. The bright orange glow halted the beast in mid-bend and it did not bite into the constable. Instead the monster humped away from the flare, dragging its meal by the ankles, to darkness. The dragged policeman and Purdy both emptied guns into the ogre who did not react to a head full of lead. The dragged constable struggled to free his taser from his belt while growing dazed as his head splashed through puddles and bounced over rocks. Jesse lit a flare and hurled it ahead, causing the zombie to veer from the glow. Hunger outweighed fear of light and the creature suddenly stopped and sank a set of brown teeth into the constable’s soft belly. Another undead approached with a heavy rock and let it drop. Under the weight of hefty granite the cop’s top caved like a ripe melon under the wheel of a semi.
Jesse got out, picked up the flare and forced a gaggle of zombies to part like the Red Sea. Jane scrabbled across the passenger seat and lit a flare. Purdy fled from his car.
“Looks like we’re on foot,” Jane quipped. They could see Main Street, brightly lit, 200 paces ahead and they could see the approach of an army Jeep with searchlight, machine gun and bazooka mounted on back. A woman drove while a male in back attempted to keep his balance, aim the light and fire the gun. With a roar and flash from the bazooka the arm and shoulder of a zombie vanished. The disarming projectile continued into Jesse’s house, hit his front porch and, with the disintegration of a supporting pillar, it collapsed. That didn’t matter because the projectile continued into his kitchen. A second later it erupted in a blue flame of natural gas. The house vanished in an impressive display of smoke and fire.
Jesse’s knees weakened. “I just read the insurance policy,” he moaned. “It doesn’t count under martial law, war etc. I’m homeless.”
“After what you just did, trying to save that recruit, we’ll find a way to help. You went beyond the call of duty.”
The searchlight on the Jeep ceased projecting light when its glass shattered. A zombie slowly hopped from foot to foot as an apparent display of satisfaction with his good aim with a rock. Zombies surged forward in the dark. The marksman on the Jeep swung his machine gun from side to side hitting zombies by the score and stopping not a single one. Bullets whizzed through the air and Jane, Jesse and Purdy took cover behind trees. Jane lobbed a flare towards the fray but it fell short: a quarterback could not have done better. Stray bullets pierced cars, houses, zombies and anything else that got in their way. The Jeep’s driver strategized by going in ever smaller circles as zombs closed in. One creature lunged and got a hand on the door handle, which swung open, but the soldier in back fired his bazooka and removed its head. His skill with the big gun impressed Jane, but that didn’t last long because the shell exploded after removing the zombie’s soft head. It detonated in front of the wheel and created a crater into which the vehicle’s left side plunged. The undead swarmed. Quickly sated, they stumbled off, dragging the two deceased from the Jeep by their ankles.
With lit flares jutting in front like they were exploring deep caves the cop trio sprinted towards Main Street. Their fear level and their pace eased when the lights of town shone on them. At the far end of Peachland their den of security, the police station, waited. Halfway there a woman in a nightgown came out of her house holding a candle. “Can I join?” she asked. “Which church are you going to?”
At the station Constable Smith had everything under control and had mummified the new inmates with two big rolls of tape per captive. An additional roll held the beasts upright and against the bars that formed cell walls. Cuffs completed the job.
It took an hour for Jane to recover from the horror of her close encounter and then she called Donald at Holiday Inn. She imagined him with a plethora of flow charts showing where zombies, aliens and alterlife intersected. Without Joey to keep him on track his theories would expand beyond the twilight zone.
In a steady voice she asked how he was doing, but she knew his mental well-being was up for review. Donald confessed to being depressed and freely admitted alcohol had touched his lips for the first time in a year. He said he stopped at one drink. Since saying goodbye to Joey he kept occupied by working the phone and making calls to contacts all over the world. Walking in the woods at night occupied him when he couldn’t sleep and his nocturnal investigations had some interesting results that would be reported to the Colonel. If Jane had time to listen he would tell her about them.
"Let's talk in person," she said and offered to drive over and meet him in the coffee shop. He inquired about curfew issues and she said army searchlights, streetlights and extra lights on many roofs illuminated all 300 yards between them. A few daring people walked safely downtown and the soldiers seemed pleased with that.
Jane walked out the station’s back door with an ignition key in hand and then realized the two cruisers abandoned on Jesse's lawn constituted her force's remaining fleet. The paint had probably peeled from the fire and a tow truck would be needed to pull them off the muddy grass: so much for a mobile police presence. She found two blue bubble-lights in a locker, dropped them into a bag and went out the front door to her 10-year-old Caravan where she popped the lights on the roof and turned on their strobes.
Right after she left Jesse loosened a few inches of tape on a prisoner's feet and paraded it to the sidewalk in front of the station. Flashes popped, microphones thrust, cameras rolled and reporters scribbled. The zombie put on a good show, mumbling indecipherably and frantically shuffling back and forth until it fell off the sidewalk and cracked onto the pavement. Some of its leg swaddling ripped and it was able to get on its feet and then pounce on an attractive lady holding a microphone. Both lost their balance and as they fell the woman’s dress ripped open and the zomb landed atop her. Presented as a new threshold of horror, zombie rape, the resulting film clip made TV and Internet viewership history. While the two squirmed and cameras rolled, a flash of silver from Jesse's hands stilled the attacker and media had a follow-up to the sexual attack: beheading with a Z-D-Capper. The reporter recovered and interviewed Jesse.
Down the middle of Main Street Jane drove confidently, stopping to tell a pair of brave but foolish pedestrians to either get off the street or stay in the brightest path of searchlights. Two army patrols took no notice of her and they didn't seem concerned about pedestrians either.
A distant, black smoke twirled skywards and she knew Jesse's house smouldered on the ground. Spiralling plumes made her think the flames did more than blister the paint of her cars: rubber was melting. She tallied the price of eight tires and two paint jobs. Firemen, for good reason, were reluctant to answer calls so the cars would burn, Jesse’s house would vanish and houses on either side might also catch fire. The army claimed it had its own fire brigade, but she had seen no evidence of it, not even a siren.
Donald Sinclair looked morose, alone in a booth designed to seat eight, reading a newspaper in the midst of a busy restaurant. No beer gla
sses adorned his table. His strong handshake welcomed Jane, but the table stood in the way of a comforting hug. They talked about Joey and how she would be missed. When he rubbed his eyes and his voice quivered Jane turned the subject to new findings. Donald said he had learned so much it frightened him, frightened him more than the worst alien invasion he ever imagined. The scariest part had to do with bodies. Since the army ordered that the dead must be cremated or shipped out of town, zombies were now hauling off their victims.
"I know what you mean,” Jane added. “We just lost a new recruit who I didn't even get to know, plus two army personnel that got disembowelled. The enemy dragged their bodies away. What do they do with them?"
Donald said he didn't know for certain, but speculated they reburied them.
"But why?"
"Because that way they become reanimated and rise again. Whatever originally happened that caused the dead to rise, happens again to newly buried bodies. It has to do with an electrical charge in the earth. I thought it might wear away with time, but apparently not. A team of scientists is conducting measurements, but they started too late, they have no base numbers. Every day we get more cannibals. If this continues zombies will outnumber Peachland citizens within five weeks, and within six weeks they will have complete control. Think about this ... every time someone gets killed … it’s not just one less player on the home team, it’s one more for the opposition. A mathematician could tell us how long we have on earth if 25 citizens switch sides today and that number increases to 27 tomorrow, and 30 the next day. It’s an exponential explosion."
