Maybe she wanted me to see it.
Sometime later (I don't remember my age, but I was taller, manlier), Nora got us all together for a big announcement.
The hippies (some in their teens, some in their twenties) and I stood in a line like soldiers – eyes forward – in the woods as Nora walked back and forth...eyeing us out. (I was gonna write “eying”, but it just looks weird.)
The sun hissed like all hell. Sweat stung my eyes.
Nora waved around a whip.
“Zombie hunting. I can't do this forever. But someone has got to kill these beasts – keep them in check – has got to help the people of Oahu. Who here would like to take over for me when I'm gone?”
People looked around. Many raised their hands, including me. Nora grinned.
“You can get killed. Many have been killed. Some of you WILL be killed.”
She cracked her whip.
We jumped.
People were already crying.
Someone yelled out something confusing and ran off. Nora looked at the ground and shook her head.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she said. “Anyone else smart enough to run off?”
Three more people ran. One of them yelped.
Then more...and more...until it was just me and two others: Tiffany, a skinny girl; and Paul, a bald man. Tiffany and Paul. Tiffany and Paul. Good people. Too bad they're dead. But anyways....
Nora smiled at us and said how happy she was. It was the first time I really saw her smile. She said that for a long time she was thinking about passing the torch. She didn't want to do zombie hunting anymore. She was getting too old. Her bones hurt all the time. It was difficult for her to even lift a blade – even harder to shove it into a skull and murder zombie-brain. The three of us looked at each other and nodded. We understood. This was going to be some sort of challenge...test...and the winner was going to get all the money in Nora's bank account.
She looked to someone behind us.
A man in a nice, red tuxedo walked out from behind a tree. He was carrying a briefcase. Nora waved him forward, and he stood next to her. He had a mustache, and I think he was Filipino. Nora cracked her whip again.
“This is Mr. Rose. My money man,” she said. “He will make sure that whoever takes over for me doesn't just run off with all my money. The winner must continue in my footsteps and kill as many of those bastard Dead Walkers as possible. You dig?”
We all clicked our heels and saluted her.
“Yeaaaah,” we said.
Mr. Rose smiled and opened his briefcase. It turned into a table. He spread some papers across it and got out his red pen, clicking it.
“All right,” he said in his low voice. It sounded fake. Like he was trying to sound like a real man. (I should know). “If I can get you guys to just sign these papers, we can start this thing.”
We did. I remember seeing the words Death and Accidental and Money and Babies and Forever. I didn't question it. I wanted to get this over with. I was gonna win this thing. The three of us looked at each other again, squinting our eyes, trying to look mean and serious. I felt like an idiot. A strong wind picked up and blew all these dead leaves around. Nora looked around at nature's sudden mood, nodded, and moaned.
“Mmm,” she went. “Mmmmmmmm....It's time. Let us begin the challenge!”
I asked how many challenges there were.
“Three,” Nora said. “The first is called 'Kill Scared'. The second is called 'Kill Me'. The third is called 'Kill You'. She looked at us. “The winner will be blindfolded and driven to a secret castle, where they will be trained in the secret art of zombie homicide.”
Something occurred to me, but I had a feeling Nora would say it first. And she did.
“Folks, you are standing in the heart of Forrest Undead. Zombies are all over the place.”
The other guys freaked out.
Tiff jumped straight into the air and landed in Paul's arms. His knees were trembling. Tiff was crying and yanking on her hair, then she yanked on Paul's hair. He didn't even try to stop her. Nora asked if they were all right – if they wanted out of the contest/challenge/game/event we all just signed up for. They said they wanted to stay – that they were strong – and they sniffed and wiped the snot off their faces and smiled. Forcefully. BIG smiles. Teeth shinning white. Eyes worried. I didn't smile. We were wasting time. I was going to win this thing, I knew it. I HAD to win. This was my purpose. For years, I always heard of people growing up not having a clue what they wanted to do with their lives. These people – these adults – went to college and spent thousands of dollars for nothing. They either couldn't find a job or they DID find work they specialized in, but they hated everything about it (even IF they were making a shit load of money). It wasn't what they loved doing.
They had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives.
But I knew.
Right there and then, I knew.
Zombie hunting was for me. And I was going to win that day. I could feel it in my bones. My whole body was singing – cheering me on. I was vibrating success.
Nora opened her arms to us.
“Now. Time for the first game.”
We walked a little deeper into the forest. It rained a little. We climbed down some rocks and came to a stream. Across that was a tall fence with an old gate in the shape of a screaming demon – the teeth made of swords. Damn gate looked like something you'd see in Conan: The Barbarian. The fence was rusty, made of thick bars topped with arrows. It ran far down the stream on both ends. Behind the fence were wooden crosses, all sticking out from the ground at different angles. The ground was littered with white rocks that were once, I imagined, headstones. Nora turned to us. Sweat ran down her face. Her hair was all sticky...stringy.
“Across this stream,” she said, “is Novac Cemetery. If you folks haven't heard of it, it's because it's a secret – and sacred – place only known to master zombie murderers, such as myself. It's a place of practice. Sometimes I come here just to blow off some steam. Many zombies here. They never stop coming.” She smiled when she said it.
Tiff looked at me. She looked scared. Her chin trembled. Nora jumped forth and shook her shoulders.
“If you wanna leave, do it now!” Nora said. “I can't have you dying on me. I can't take the guilt....”
Tiff words came out fast and nervous:
“I'm ready,” she said. “I'll do whatever you ask.”
Nora looked sad.
“I don't believe you. But it's your call.”
A British man walked out of the woods and greeted us. Nora wasn't surprised. The British fellow pulled on a rope as thick as a man's calf muscle, and five zombies moaned out of the woods, eyes covered with blindfolds. This long rope was driven straight through their bellies, connecting one zombie to another. At the end of the line was a skinny, British woman that carried around a huge, golden ax.
The British man tipped his small hat to Nora.
“Mo'ning!”
Nora didn't smile at them.
“Early, I see,” she said, eyeing out the zombies that just stood there.
The British man, always smiling, nodded.
“Yes, yes...our work never stops. People always needing more things to practice on and throw things at, ha ha ha.” He looked at Tiff and me. “Still training?”
Nora nodded.
“You can call it that.”
“And what would you call it?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Nora said. “Let's just say...some kind of rebirth.”
I looked at the British woman. She was staring right at me. She smiled and winked. The British man yanked on the rope.
“Come on, you hooligans. Mush!”
They walked the line of zombies over the stream and shoved them right into the cemetery. The zombies sniffed the air. The British team took off their blindfolds, then gave the rope a good yank. The thing made a zipping sound on its way out. A clean hole was left behind. I could see straight through those zombies. They looked ar
ound in wonder and stumbled about...slowly...arms out...all just walked off in a daze. The British team waved goodbye to us and walked down along the stream and vanished behind a large boulder.
Nora walked to the stream and took off her high heels and stepped into the water. She turned around.
“We'll do this by age. Let the oldest of you three step forward.”
Paul walked to her. His hands were shaking. Nora noticed. Paul saw that she noticed, so he bit into his hands to calm them. It worked, and Nora nodded.
“Very good,” she said. She took his shoulders and turned him around to face us.
“Paul will cross the stream and fight a zombie...or zombiesss. Like you, he has no training. I believe in fate. It will decide if he will win...or die.” She paused. “He may not make it back.”
Paul's eyes blew up. He swallowed an imaginary fly. Nora went on.
“If you've got something to say to him, better say it now.”
No one said anything. Nora looked at Paul's wet face.
“If you win the fight, you may cross back. Then, the next oldest must go and fight.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“If fate finds you deserving, you will become a zombie hunter. This is a test of the heart, of the soul. Let your instincts guide you. Do what comes naturally. Make me proud.”
Paul took in a deep breath (shoulders going up high, then down) and crossed the stream. Mr. Rose was already at the gate. He took out a Gothic key and opened the huge lock, undid the chains, and opened the gate. Paul walked in...very, very slowly...like a chicken.
I knew then he was going to die.
He tiptoed around the crosses, head whipping here and there, listening for anything weird. It was like another world across that stream: The trees were thinner; the place was darker, muddier – depressing – like the sun was afraid to shine on it. Paul heard something and spun around. His face was covered in sweat. Or was it tears?
A cross shook...and then it was pulled into the ground. Paul cried out and gripped his heart. A hand shot out from the mud. Paul looked around and picked up a pointy stick. The zombie crawled out from its grave and rolled around on the mud. I kept thinking, Dammit, Paul, now's your chance! Kill it! Do something!
But he just stood there and stared at the odd creature. He was petrified!
The zombie was a woman in a wedding dress. At least I thought it was female. I couldn't tell because its face was meatless – nothing but dirty bone with a grin that was all teeth. Worms fell out of its eye-holes. The zombie kept snapping its jaw, making an unnerving sound, like someone banging wooden blocks together. It sounded somewhat musical. Paul took a step back and, of course, fell down. He just stared and stared, just letting the damn zombie walk toward him. And it wasn't even a fast walk. She walked like she had problems, like she was possessed by the shakes. Paul's mouth opened up, but no sound came out. His eyes were so wide at that point, he looked humorous. The zombie was almost on him. I don't know what got into me, but I stepped forward to help! I felt hands on me. It was Mr. Rose. He squeezed my shoulders tight, and I went down on my knees.
I think I heard Nora go, “Hmmm”.
Right when the beast was on him, Paul yelped and shot up and made a mad dash toward us, toward the stream. The zombie fell forward and grabbed his ankle. He fell and rolled over and kicked the zombie's head off. Bad idea, I thought. You had to kill the brain (everyone knew that part), but with the head so far away from him, he didn't have a chance.
And that was true.
The zombie climbed his body.
Rotting hands blasted out of the ground and held Paul's limbs down as the bride zombie tore his neck open and played around with his insides. It looked like she was searching for her lost wedding ring. Tiff looked away and vomited all over her feet. Nora gazed at the ground and shook her head. The bride zombie stood and, with its arms out, walked around. It stepped on its own head, shattering it into pieces, and the zombie fell over...dead.
I felt sick.
Old, buried memories came flashing across my eyes – of my dad with all those zombies swimming over him.
Nora sighed.
“Let him go,” she told Mr. Rose.
He loosened his grasp on me. I shot up and made to punch him. Nora held me back. Mr. Rose smiled and backed away and held his hands up. He smiled. This all meant nothing to him. Just another day in the woods with people getting killed by zombies, he was thinking. Oh, well....
Nora cupped my face in her hands. She could tell I was fuming mad.
“Boss, I believe you're next,” said. “Use your energy wisely.”
I nodded and crossed the stream. I tried not looking at Paul's trembling, dead body, but I couldn't help it. The zombie-hands pulled down all together, and Paul exploded in a brilliant red splash.
I screamed out like a girl.
Silence.
Then I heard Tiff weeping...then birds chirping...then the wind whispering nonsense into my ears. I yanked free a cross made of two sticks and tore it apart. I stood there with those two stakes in hand, waiting.
I just waited.
And waited.
A tumbleweed bounced by.
There was no need to walk around. I could feel them all around me. Might as well conserve my energy and wait for them to come to me. Somehow, I could sense Nora agreeing with me.
I heard a groan and turned to my left. A zombie climbed out from a brown puddle. It wore a yellow hardhat and a tool belt – a variety of screwdrivers and hammers included. This zombie had a long beard that ran down to his bullhead-shaped belt buckle. Like the bride zombie, his head was a bare skull. BUT, this one was quick. It still walked funny, but it walked with a purpose. It opened its mouth. The zombie made to moan, but no sound came out, only a rat. The pest bounced on the ground and zipped back up the zombie's leg, disappearing into a hole in its torn pants. I ran up to the zombie, screaming, and ran my stakes into its eye sockets. Nora cheered me on, yelling things. The zombie fell back against a tree. I grabbed the zombie's hammer and pounded the stakes deeper. The zombie held my shoulders.
It didn't seem to care.
Maybe it wanted to die.
I tossed the hammer over my shoulder and grabbed the stakes and started mixing. The brain inside the skull turned to mush. I could feel it – like mixing tough dough. Then the rats came. As if the zombie was controlling them via undead ESP, the rats ran out from behind the zombie's bones, zigzagging up my arms and bit me! I grabbed each one and threw them away. One of those mini bastards took a trip around my neck. Its rat-claws felt like needles against my skin. I reached around and took hold of the rat and shoved it into the zombie's mouth and pushed the monster back into the puddle.
I made too much noise.
Damn!
More zombies were coming: From behind trees, from out puddles, from under the ground...some even fell from trees (one zombie had a bird's nest on its head, baby birds chirpin' for Mama). Dead-hands popped out of the ground, reaching around for my feet. At one point, I was jumping around like a football player at practice, trying to avoid the bastard-hands. Then living-dead faces popped up from the mud, trying to bite me. Somewhere, a baby was weeping. All too confusing. I cried out to Nora.
“Have I murdered enough zombies?! Can I come back now???” I asked, still hopping around like a damn fool.
I was trying to smile.
Nora yelled back, hands waving: “Come on back!”
She looked pleased.
“I am pleased!” she yelled.
Mr. Rose opened the squeaky gate, and I ran through huffing and puffing. He slammed the gate shut with a BANG. The zombies stuck their arms through, hands hungry. I ran over that stream with zero heroism, zero grace – afraid for my odd life. I lost my footing and fell in the shallow stream, and for a second I thought I was drowning. I took in a mouthful of water. Total fear and confusion. My brain was on fire.
It all sunk in then: I came this close to getting eaten by zombies.
Nora dragge
d me out of the stream and gave me mouth-to-mouth. I didn't even know my insides were filled with water. I just kept thinking about zombies. My mind was betraying me. I kept picturing zombies eating me out. I didn't know if I was afraid or excited. Maybe there is no difference.
Next thing I knew, I was coughing up so much water. Even a small fish. It flopped on my stomach. I think that Mr. Rose-guy snatched it up and ate it. Actually...I'm pretty sure I remember him doing that.
Mr. Rose and Tiff and Nora standing over me. They were clapping. I was helped up to my feet by someone. Then I heard weird sounds. Complaining sounds? Was someone crying? I wasn't sure. My ears were filled with liquid.
After a minute, I was back to “normal”.
Tiff, weeping a storm....She was up next.
Tiff forced herself to go, to cross that stream. She was crying, and Nora tried talking her out of it, but the girl didn't want to quit. I remember thinking, Just quit. You don't wanna do it, then don't do it. At this point, you're just being stubborn. You've already lost. Accept it. Quit. It's respectable. I heard Tiff mumbling to herself, motivating herself as she tiptoed across the stream. She was saying something like, “I need this money. I don't wanna be a waitress anymore. Please, God, let me win. Just give me my monies. I just want my own, quiet place. I can do this. I MUST do this. Anything is better than working at a job.”
I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. A part of me wanted her to win. Can you believe it? In a stupid way, a part of me wanted her to win.
The zombies were still there – walking around with nothing much to do – strolling around, uninspired. Tiff walked into the cemetery, and Mr. Rose, using a very long stick, shut the gate behind her and ran off. I think he was smiling. Tiff looked over her shoulder, right at me, our eyes locking. I thought, Tiff, pick up a stake. Do what I did. To my surprise, she looked around and took apart a cross and held the two sticks close to her chest.
Ghost City Page 3
