Nashville Summers

by Grayson Elliot

  Andrew scratched his head idly. "Ferals?"

  "Yeah... feral zombies. In most cases, when the dead arise, they become zombies like your sis... like that thing that looks like your sister. Y'know, still able to walk and talk and fight and shit like that. But when they've been dead for too long and they arise, something fucks up. I think they've been rotting for too long and their brains don't work right. The result... well, it's hard to explain. You must have at least seen Night of the Living Dead, right?"

  He shrugged. "Parts of it, I think."

  "'68 or '90?"

  "Huh?"

  "Never mind... anyway, these feral zombies as I call 'em can barely even think. They just sort of moan and clump around a lot. They look a lot scarier than they actually are. The thing is, they're determined, and there's a fuckload of 'em. They start coming and they don't stop. They like to hang out in groups.” Again, I peered down the unpaved road, a little more apprehensively this time. "Usually in forests or under bridges, or even in cemeteries. Especially in cemeteries.” I shifted my gaze back to him. "So... which path you wanna go down?"

  With a confused look he stared back at me. "Why are you asking me?"

  Good point, why was I asking him? I was the one with experience. I'd been doing this for weeks, or months, or however long it had been since the uprising, while he was still hiding out in his little closet. This was my decision to make.

  But even still. "Are you like, okay with going down this way?” I asked, gesturing to the forest path with my axe. "I mean, I'm kinda desensitized to mad zombie slaughter but you..."

  "I'll be fine," he cut me off, with forced enthusiasm. "Don't worry."

  Although I wasn't entirely convinced, what could I do? With a shrug I turned in the direction of the dirt road, calling back to Andrew over my shoulder, "If we see any ferals stay close behind me, but not too close. I don't want to smack you with the axe by accident. That might ruin my whole day. And if you see any behind you when I'm fighting lemme know, so I can take care of it. But," I added as an afterthought, "don't worry! These things suck, they're wicked slow and some of 'em don't even have teeth anymore. It's just when they swarm you that you're in trouble... and we might not even run into any anyways."

  Nodding gently, Andrew followed me down the path, as we walked down towards my friend's house. Moist leaves and gravel crunched under our feet, providing a shuffling sound that must have alerted any nearby zombies that we were coming, at least, any whose ears hadn't rotted off yet. Damn this fog! I couldn't see more than five feet in front of my face, so I knew I'd have to stay alert. If the zombies started coming I'd have to strike fast.

  Chapter 5

  Sure enough, a face appeared in the mist. It was a long dead face that reminded me a little of my science teacher before the schools had shut down. It was old, fetid, decomposing; the mouth hung crookedly open and it was moaning softly, "Brains... brains...” I lifted my axe and swung, connecting right above the eyes, taking the top of his head clean off and splattering rotting zombie brains everywhere. That was easy enough, I thought, but before I could tie that thought down in words two more materialized right in front of me. The one on the right was moaning for my brains like the last one was, but his friend was missing the lower half of his jaw. His flesh was so rotten that bone was poking through the surface in several places.

  "Aw, go to hell," I muttered, and brought my axe down on the moaner's head, splitting it clean in two and embedding my axe between his shoulders. To the other I raised my right foot in a high snap kick that hit it right where the lower jaw should have been, sending it sprawling backwards. It twitched a little, trying to stand up, but it had no luck - its muscles were far too decomposed to allow it. No sooner had I dispatched those two that three, four, five more emerged from the forest, some moaning, others mute, all disgustingly dead and in various stages of decomposition.

  Again I tore my axe out of the dead zombie's carcass and raised it for another swing, but from a few feet behind me I heard Andrew call out, "Nash!” I turned and saw a particularly ugly feral advancing on him. This one looked ready to keel over on its own, but Andrew was afraid. Quick as I could I ran over and delivered a punch, harder than I had thought possible, right to the center of its forehead. It fell backwards, smacking its head on the ground as it landed, and moved no more.

  By now, at least seven more ferals had gathered, drawing nearer, maybe attracted by the smell of blood, or maybe because I had such bad fucking luck. "Shit," I murmured, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I grabbed Andrew’s hand in mine, tightening my other around the handle of my axe. There were too many of them, there was no way could we fight our way out. "C'mon, let's get the fuck out of here."

  Pushing a pair of ferals aside to clear the path, I started to run as fast as I could.

  The zombies were coming out of the woodwork now, lining the road and still continuing to appear; if we had waited any longer to make our escape we wouldn't have been able to. They would’ve blocked our every route and then just keep coming and coming until I became too fatigued from killing them. Other zombies would actually retreat when they knew they hadn't a change of winning a fight, but ferals were driven solely by their hunger; they hadn't the brain power to realize they were dumber than shit.

  As we ran past them they clawed at me, or tried to at least. I just rushed past their outstretched arms and hands, occasionally giving my axe a weak little swing to cut one down. But they couldn't chase after us, their running days were long behind them. Most of them could barely shuffle forwards. But they didn't need mobility, or even any sort of skill whatsoever. They had numbers. The forests were full of them. I made a mental note to never go into the forest again.

  Behind me I could hear Andrew start to breathe hard, and he started to slow down a little, which made me begin to worry. If he couldn't take the run, what could we do? Nothing, and die. Oh well, if he got tired he'd just have to suck it up, that was all. It was either run or die. But I wasn't too concerned. My friend's house was drawing nearer, and the ranks of the zombies were thinning out the closer we got.

  Finally, another dirt path branched off to the right and I made the turn, pulling Andrew along with me. "This way... it's his driveway.” With our destination in sight Andrew seemed to get his second wind, and we took off down the driveway. His driveway was a long one, and once we got about thirty feet down it the zombies stopped appearing, as if this section of the woods was devoid of them. I didn't think about that right now; I just kept running, I could think later.

  Before too long the house loomed over us. It had seen better days, back before the zombies, when I used to visit Alexander Bogosian, my friend who had lived there, just about every day. Everyone called him Bogo. The only time I ever called him Alex was when I wanted something, as in, "hey Alex, got any food?” He was a bit of a nerd, a bit overweight, and a bit of a pyromaniac. He enjoyed sneaking out at night and blowing up fireworks in the middle of the forest and waking up the whole neighborhood. He was a hell of a guy. Now, his love for fireworks would help me blow the shit out of the undead.

  "Almost there," I grinned at Andrew, holding his hand tightly. He looked back and returned it, opening his mouth to say something. But before any words could come out, I heard a very familiar but very different voice cry out, "Die die die die die!” Our grins vanished, but before I could do anything a gunshot rang out and a small red splotch appeared on Andrew’s chest.

  "No! “I yelled before I had time to wonder why Bogo would be alive and shooting at us, but Andrew just looked confused. He reached down and touched the splotch, then looked up at me. "It's paint..." he said, sounding more confused than ever, looking to me to explain. I was at a loss; sure, I had known Bogo was a weird guy but what the fuck was up with this? Had he just like snapped or something?

  Yeah, it was cool to know that he wasn't zombie food but even still, this was just weird.

  I looked around, but I couldn’t see where he was hiding. "Hey
Bogo! “I yelled, just loud enough so as to not draw the zombies closer. "What the fuck?"

  "Sorry, man," he called back, still in hiding. "Thought you were zombies. I'm over here, could you like gimme a hand dude?” Together Andrew and I walked over in the direction of the voice to discover Bogo lying on the ground, his left leg crushed beneath a fallen tree. He'd changed in the months since I'd last seen him. He had lost a lot of weight and grown a lot of hair, and the acne that had plagued him since age twelve was thicker than ever. He wore a slightly torn, dirty, and very ragged Def Leppard shirt that hung loosely off his body, and a pair of bloody and faded jeans. "Thanks dude," he gasped, as together Andrew and I lifted the tree from his leg. Glancing downward at the wound, he moaned in pain. "Ow ow OW that hurts. Hey, you two wanna do me a favor and help me inside? I could hop, but somehow I think that wouldn't be much fun."

  "Sure thing," I said, and Andrew and I got on either side of him, allowing him to wrap his arms around our shoulders for support. The three of us walked what little distance there was to his house. I opened the door and we helped him inside.

  Man, Bogo’s house had really gone to shit in the last few months. Actually, in a way it resembled the Garrote homestead as I had found it last night. Similarly, they both looked as if wars had been fought in them; Bogo's stuff was demolished and strewn about the house in a random manner. There was something missing though... what was it? I couldn't put my finger on it until I glanced over at Andrew and saw the red paint on his top... blood! There was no blood anywhere in the house. What was up with that?

  Bogo noticed me staring and grinned. "I've redecorated a bit without my parents around.” On his good right leg he hopped over to a chair in the corner and plopped down into it lazily. "It's good to be home."

  Again, Andrew and I exchanged a glance. Was Bogo going to explain anything, or what? "Hey, what the fuck happened out there? Why were you pinned beneath a tree?"

  "It fell on me."

  "No shit! "

  Chuckling a little, he yawned. "Well, I had to prepare for the zombies, right? So I went out to cut some wood, you know, like for a barricade or something. But I fucked up, I couldn't get outa the way fast enough.” He glanced down at his damaged leg. "Well, now it's shot to shit. I really fucked it up. I won't be going anywhere anytime soon.” He was right. I was no doctor but I could tell his leg was broken; the lower half hung limp and useless, and there was blood everywhere. "I sure hope no zombies decide to pay a visit."

  "Well, if they do, I'm here now," I assured him. "By the way, what the fuck were you thinking with that paintball gun?"

  He shrugged. "I don’t know, maybe scare them off a bit if I start shooting at them."

  "Zombies don't scare.” I stated flatly, raising my axe. "Not these kind. You have to hack 'em apart, or else they'll just keep coming back for more. "Again, Bogo just shrugged, so I changed the subject. "Hey Alex, got any food?” I was hungry, and I bet Andrew was too. After all, we hadn't eaten last night, we'd been busy with something else.

  Much to my dismay Bogo just shook his head. "Nope, sorry dude. I got nothing. I was gonna go out to snag some shit from the grocery store after blocking myself in but no such luck." Again, he turned his attention down to his mashed up leg. "I wonder if I could make some crutches or something."

  "That'd wouldn't help you out much," I said, scoffing lightly. "With crutches you'd be able to walk alright, but you'd be slower than shit. The zombies could still catch you, even these things you hang out with here in the forest."

  With a grin, he replied, "Yeah, but I could use them to beat the assholes over the head or something!"

  I rolled my eyes. "That wouldn't work either, except maybe to slow them down a little. You need to give 'em a really hard whack to the head if you wanna get anything done."

  "Yeah, I know. Hey, what happened to your shirt?"

  "It got ripped, to shreds actually, which sucks 'cause it was a nice shirt. It was all bloody and shit anyway from killing zombies. Have you had to fight many?"

  "A few," he responded, shrugging. "At first they came right up to the house but I had a chainsaw then and I tore them all to pieces. It was sweet. Then they stopped for a while, but I think they've been gathering in this area, getting ready to storm the house."

  "What happened to the chainsaw?"

  Scowling, he replied, "It ran outa gas..."

  "Yeah... I know what that's like."

  After that there was a brief silence, as we both pondered our own separate thoughts, until Andrew broke it. "Um... do you have fireworks?"

  Suddenly I remembered why I had come here; to get supplies!

  The grin returned to Bogo's face. "Fuegos artificiales! Hell yeah! Good thinking, we can use them to blow zombies to shit. I like it!” Still grinning, he got out of his chair, balancing himself on his good leg. "C'mon Nash, help me up to my room. I still have a shitload left, let's go."

  In unison the three of us walked swiftly as possible, up the stairs. That was a hell of a task; Bogo nearly fell backwards and broke his ass twice. But eventually we made it up to his room, which was the one part of his house that remained exactly as I had remembered it. Junk lay strewn about the floor, posters advocating various rock and metal groups adorned the walls, and in the corner lay the beat up old mattress that served as Bogo's bed. On the right wall sat a large window overlooking the driveway, and on the opposite side sat another overlooking his backyard. But right now I didn't give a flying fuck about any of that; my attention was focused on the shelves, which were full of as many fireworks as Bogo'd been able to get his pyromanical hands on.

  "Sweet!” I exclaimed joyfully. This was more than I had hoped for. Even Andrew seemed impressed. "This is perfect! With all this shit we can really fuck some zombies up good!" I didn't know much about explosives, but this looked good. This was something that was going to help me at last, this was even better than more gas for my chainsaw. "Wow... I murmured under my breath, just staring, while Bogo stood nearby, chuckling at my amazement. I would have stared even longer had I not suddenly been jolted out of my concentration by a loud smashing sound, coming from downstairs.

  Chapter 6

  "The fuck was that!?" Bogo and I shouted in unison, but Andrew was more resourceful.

  "Nash, look! " he said, tugging my arm to the window. Outside, advancing on the house, were more zombies than I'd ever seen before in my life. They were ferals, for the most part, although a few of them looked recently dead, and some could even have been mistaken for the living. I recoiled in fright; what could we do? How could we escape? Especially with Bogo's leg as it was...

  From the other side of the room, Bogo said, "They're in the backyard, too... they've got us surrounded.” For the first time in my life I heard Bogo speak with fear in his voice, cracking at every other word.

  "Get the matches, get the fireworks.” I said, pacing around the room nervously. "We can throw them out the window at the zombies, at least kill at many as we can."

  Bogo sighed, and shook his head. "No," he said nervously. "They're already inside, we heard them break down the door." With a sigh of defeat, he added "they've won already."

  "So what will we do then?” I asked, sarcastically. "Roll over and die?"

  "Nope," he shook his head, speaking faster now. "Remember the rope ladder?" I did. When Bogo and I were younger we had constructed a ladder with sticks and some coils of rope, hauled it up to the roof, and tied it to his chimney, so we could sneak outside at night to roam the town without letting his parents know. I nodded. "Yeah. I remember." But that was useless... the ladder would take us into the middle of the backyard, not far away to safety. It was especially useless on one leg. Either climbing to the roof or using the ladder would be near impossible.

  "Use it, the two of you, now before they get up here! Get on the roof, then hide there until it's clear enough to make a run for it. Now! “What? That’s crazy! And leave you here?"

  "Yeah, exactly! You said it yourself, there's no way I
can run from zombies with one leg, so save yourselves!” Below us I could begin to hear the moaning of the ferals and the shrieks of the recently dead as they made their way closer to the stairs. Andrew swiftly ran over to the door, closing and locking it. "He's right Nash, this is the only way, we gotta do this."

  No... there had to be another way! "What about the fireworks?” I asked frantically.

  Bogo pulled out a box of matches from a drawer. "I can hide with them in the closet, but that'll only last so long. When they break down the closet door...” Again his voice cracked, and he gulped. "I'll try to get as many of them as I can."

  "By blowing up the house?” I yelled. "There has to be a better way, it doesn't have to be like this!"

  "You know it does," he replied, and turned to start moving fireworks by the armful into the closet. Andrew had moved over to the window and thrown it up, and now called back to me.

  "C'mon Nash... I can't get up to the roof on my own." With a defeated sigh I joined him at the window, and hoisted him out of it. I supported him until he had a firm grip on the roof, then pushed him the rest of the way up. I turned back to Bogo, who by now had just about moved his entire firework collection into his closet. "Maybe they won't find you," I offered optimistically. "Don't go lighting those things off until absolutely necessary."

  We both knew that was impossible, but he humored me. "Sure," he said with a lopsided grin. "I'll just wait around in here a while until these bastards take a hike, then I'll catch up with the two of you."

  "Sounds good," I murmured, then learned out the window and looked up to see Andrew, reaching down with his hand, ready to help pull me up to the roof. I glanced inside for the last time. "Goodbye Alex."