“Heeeeeyyyyy,” the zombie moaned loudly as he slapped at the wooden door. “Coooooommme. Oooooonnnn.”
“Stanley?” he heard Dallas yell from the other side of the door. “If that’s really you, and you can really understand me, let’s get a few things straight.”
Stanley relented and let his hands fall to his sides. More and more of his friends were piling inside and making quite the commotion, so he leaned up against the door to hear better.
“I’d really like to help you, but you’re making it tough, buddy,” the werewolf said. “I’m not real inclined to help people that keep trying to bite me.”
“Frieeennds,” Stanley pleaded.
“That’s right, we’re friends. And friends don’t bite friends.”
“Moooorrre fffrieeends,” he explained. Why couldn’t Dallas understand? If they would just let him bite them, they wouldn’t be in any danger. They’d be friends with everyone.
The wooden door creaked under the strain of more and more pressing bodies. Stanley heard the noise and smiled. Just a little bit longer, and everything would work out fine. Just a little bit longer, and they’d all be friends again.
Chapter 22
He had it. A week ago, he would’ve never believed that he could figure out how to reprogram a cloning alarm clock. But truth be told, reprogramming the device really wasn’t much harder than programming a universal remote. Everyone said that was really hard, but for Stanley, it was second-nature. A perk of being the clone of a super smart Stanley, he reckoned.
He thought back on what he’d learned in the alien ship and peered at the little clock from multiple angles.
That there’s what scans the DNA. And that little bit there, with the funny wires, that’s what generates the matter-conversion whatnot and the recombinant stuff. I can set the storage here, and matter-capture parameters here, and target efficiency constraints here…
It was elegantly simple. Everything his progenitor had explained clicked into place like Linkin Logs in his brain. He just needed a little piece of DNA to scan, like a hair or even a bit of spit, and he could set the clock to clone that person.
Bouncing with excitement, he started to clamor for attention, anyone’s attention. Unfortunately, after their earlier laughing fit at his expense, everyone had settled into completely ignoring him. Pairs and trios of Society hunters readied weapons, rechecked the boards securing the windows, and tried to convince each other that everything would be fine, just fine. Jonah was cleaning some guns with the other hunter Stanley had seen earlier. The rough-looking one in dark jeans and leather jacket that had shot him with a crossbow. Just looking in his general direction made Stanley nervous, so he stopped trying to get their attention and instead focused on reassembling the clock.
While Stanley had fiddled with the alarm clock, Aletia had been in and out of the diner. More hunters had been arriving, one and two at a time. Apparently, Aletia had put out a coast-to-coast call. As hunters got the message, they’d dropped what they were doing and bee-lined for Trappersville. When they arrived, Aletia would greet them and explain that they were going out in teams to keep the zombies contained. The plan was apparently to try to keep the horde from spreading by picking off ones around the fringe. Once enough hunters responded to the call, they’d attack en masse and wipe them all out.
“They d-don’t need to do all that,” Stanley complained to himself. “I c-can save everyone. Why won’t anyone listen?”
After snapping the last couple of plastic clips into place, he contemplated the little alarm clock. It was strange to think how the little contraption had made such an immeasurable impact on his life. He was still wondering at the strangeness of it all when Aletia walked back into the diner and called for everyone’s attention. Unlike Stanley, she got it.
“We’ve found them. The ones we’ve been searching for are holed up inside a house. I need a team to head out with me. Who’s up?”
Jonah raised a hand along with a couple of other hunters. The dangerous guy shook his head.
“Someone’s gotta keep this place in line, I reckon,” he said. “Since I’m second in command, that someone should be me.”
Aletia gave a curt nod, but the biker wasn’t done.
“And when you’re dead, I’m in charge.”
The temperature dropped about fifteen degrees. When Stanley finally dared to exhale, he was surprised his breath didn’t come out in a white cloud.
“Sure, Dempsey,” Aletia said, her words edged in ice. “You can be in charge over my dead body.”
The man named Dempsey nodded. “Okay, then. That’s all settled.”
After the hunter spoke, he turned his eyes on Stanley. It wasn’t a friendly look, and Stanley responded by shooting a hand straight up into the air.
“T-Tia! Hey T-Tia. I’m going with you. Wherever you’re going. I want to g-go.”
Jonah shook his head, but Aletia’s brow furrowed in thought.
“We could use him,” she announced. When Jonah groaned loudly, she added, “Bait.”
Stanley didn’t know what she meant by that, but Jonah shrugged and raised himself up to his feet. His giant club was resting against a wall. After retrieving it, he turned sideways to fit through the door and headed outside.
“Come on,” Aletia commanded. The two other hunters quickly grabbed their weapons and followed Jonah into the gathering night.
“Y tu,” she said, looking at Stanley and tilting her head. “Vámonos. We’ve got a truck.”
Stanley shoved the alarm clock in his parka’s pocket and ran outside. The truck Aletia had mentioned was a beat-up SUV. The couple that had raised their hands inside took the front seats. Jonah had pulled open the back doors and sat easily with his legs hanging over the rear bumper, his massive club balanced across his thighs. Stanley gave him a wide berth before climbing into the SUV’s backseat.
“Where we g-going?” he asked as Aletia slid into the seat next to him.
“It’s reunion time,” she answered with a cold grin.
Stanley didn’t have to wonder what she meant by that for long. After heading back down the highway toward town, the SUV took a familiar turn.
“My house?” he asked, confused. “Why the h-heck are we going to my house?”
No one answered, but they didn’t need to. The reason became clear when they got close. Even with a mob of undead surrounding the house, Deloris was impossible to miss.
After Stanley died in the lake, his friends had apparently come to find him. There was no way for them to know that Stanley Prime had stolen the alarm clock, so they’d gone to his house. Stanley couldn’t believe his luck. While he, Lois, and Herb hadn’t cooked up much of a plan, what little plan they did have involved Dallas beating the crap out of the Society so Lois could work on finding a cure for the zombies. Now, the Society was going right to Dallas. Even better, Stanley could save Lois the trouble of figuring out a cure.
“Boy oh b-boy, are you guys gonna be sorry,” he whispered excitedly.
Aletia didn’t respond. She either hadn’t heard him or had no interest in what he’d said. Instead, she leaned forward and placed an arm on the driver’s shoulder.
“We need to get into that house,” she said as the driver parked a safe distance away from the outer edge of the zombies. “Luke, Julia, you two are going to be the distraction. Use the truck to draw as many of them away as possible. Once they thin out a bit, Jonah and I will smash our way inside.”
“What about me?” Stanley asked.
“Stay close, but not so close that I smash your head,” Jonah advised.
It seemed like a good plan. Stanley had just hopped clear of the SUV when it took off and started blaring its horn and flashing its high beams. As Aletia hoped, many of the zombies started to peel away and follow the new distraction.
“Now!” Aletia hissed. She freed her long blade and ran forward. Jonah followed, veering off just far enough to ensure his club had plenty of room to swing.
Stanle
y couldn’t believe that two people could create so much gore. Each swing of Jonah’s club produced a tidal wave of destroyed flesh. Aletia’s blade darted and danced, curtains of blood following its bright flashes. Stanley’s unfortunate undead neighbors were felled like stalks of corn before a combine. Rather than having to worry about squeezing between grasping hands and biting teeth, Stanley only had to worry about not slipping on the blood-soaked snow. It was like walking down a gruesome red carpet to his front door.
“You,” Aletia said as she grabbed him and thrust him over the threshold. “Start yelling for your friends.”
He didn’t need Aletia’s stern coaxing. After being shoved through the door, he was face-to-face with a group of twenty or so zombies. As the ones nearest him took notice, they moaned and stretched toward him. Screaming was the only rational response.
“Oh c-crappers! Help help help help! Lois? Herb? Anyone, help!” he cried as he tried to back away.
Unfortunately, Aletia was directly behind him and not inclined to let him leave. She held the back of his coat like a Spartan warrior clutching a shield. As the zombies encroached, she jabbed her blade over Stanley’s shoulder and impaled one right between the eyes.
Stanley’s screaming finally had the desired effect. The door to his little home’s basement burst open, and a ready-for-anything Dallas burst out. More specifically, a ready-for-anything-except-seeing-his-ex-girlfriend Dallas burst out.
“Tia!” he exclaimed, slugging a hungry zombie and tossing it to the floor. “How… I mean, you look,” he managed before another zombie lurched toward him. After kicking out its legs, he continued. “Wow. You look good. So, um, how’ve you been?”
The blade flashed uncomfortably close to Stanley’s cheek, stabbed another zombie in the eyeball, and quickly pulled back.
“Fine,” the hunter replied coolly. After yanking Stanley to the side so she could kick another zombie, she dragged him back in front of her and added, “Y tu? You seem to be doing pretty well for a dead werewolf.”
Dallas danced around two grasping sets of bloody hands, grabbed Stanley’s T.V. tray and swung it in a wide arc. The zombies that had dared get too close were knocked aside, and the T.V tray shattered into splintered chunks of woods.
“Not dead yet, babe. Old Dallas, he’s a hard one to kill.”
Aletia stabbed another zombie and shoved Stanley forward, closing the distance between herself and her former lover.
“Hard is good. Makes things more fun,” she retorted.
“And old Dallas, he still likes to have fun,” the werewolf quipped while pulling another zombie into a headlock, punching it twice in the face, dropping it to the carpet, and taking another step closer to Stanley and Aletia.
“Too much fun can be dangerous,” Aletia cautioned as she pushed Stanley away from a chomping mouth and brought her blade around in a sharp arc. The spray of blood splattered across Dallas as he closed the final distance between them.
“Damn right, it can. But that’s what makes it fun.”
They came together like storm and sea, their passion roiling the world around them. Dallas’s arms wrapped around Aletia’s back as her hands fiercely grabbed the back of his neck. Their lips came together in a kiss so powerful Stanley was convinced they were both going to lose a few teeth. It was a breathtakingly violent reunion. Stanley was completely captivated by the moment, so much so that he didn’t see the impending disaster coming until it was too late.
Zombie Stanley lunged for Dallas, slipped, and fell mouth-first onto Aletia’s shoulder. Stanley watched his undead double’s jaws clamp down hard. He heard the hunter scream. He saw Dallas cry out in shocked disbelief. A moment later, Lois and Herb came running through the basement door. Herb grabbed the zombie’s shoulders and pulled. His supernatural strength dislodged his zombie friend’s mouth from the hunter’s shoulder and sent the undead Stanley careening across the room. Lois grabbed Dallas and asked if he was okay, had he been bit, was he okay? Dallas roughly brushed her aside and gathered Aletia up in his arms.
“Everything alright in there?” a loud voice called from just outside the front door.
In the commotion, Stanley had completely forgotten about the other hunter. He ran to the door and saw that Jonah was engaged in keeping a large group of zombies at bay with his club.
“It’s Aletia,” he cried out. “She’s b-been bit!”
Jonah cursed and shifted from defense to offense. The zombies that hadn’t been drawn off by the other hunters in the SUV were quickly reduced to a pile of crushed and mangled bodies. Panting, the giant shoved Stanley aside and ran inside the house.
“Get away from her!” he yelled, his voice loud enough to rattle the remaining shards of glass in the windows.
Dallas had helped Aletia lay down amid the dead undead and cradled her head in his lap. He turned flat eyes up at the massive man looming a few feet away.
“Not a chance, buddy,” he growled.
“It’s alright… Jonah,” Aletia said in a weak voice. “It’s alright.”
Jonah shook his head angrily. “No. It’s not. We need to get you back to camp. Say the word, and I’ll kill all of these assholes.”
Aletia looked up at Jonah and shook her head. Even that small gesture obviously caused her tremendous pain, but she still managed it.
“This is it, Jonah. Mi fin se acerca,” she said before gasping. “Mierda, that hurts!”
“What can I do?” Dallas asked. “Lois, what can we do?”
Lois clutched Herb’s arm, eyes darting from Dallas and Aletia to Jonah and back. Aletia noticed the other woman’s hesitation and let out a harsh laugh.
“That’s right, puta. Not much. The change happens fast.” Looking back at Dallas, she continued. “You either let me die or you kill me. But if you let me die, you’ll still have to kill me.”
Dallas violently shook his head. “Herb? Lois? C’mon. There has to be something we can do.”
Lois turned her eyes away, shame and regret darkening her countenance. “I’m sorry, Dallas.”
“It’ll be a kindness,” Jonah said quietly. “But it should be me. One of her own, not one of you.”
The inflection on his last word made it clear what the hunter thought of the werewolf, witch, and vampire. He stepped forward and slipped a sturdy bowie knife from a sheath hooked to his belt.
“Stand aside,” he advised, but stopped when the dying woman raised a hand.
“No, Jonah. It’s… it’s okay. I want it to be him.” A pained groan interrupted her words, and her beautiful face contorted. When the spasm passed, she gasped, “Please, Dallas. Please.”
Jonah was incredulous. Stanley watched him struggle with a maelstrom of emotion. His free hand clenched and unclenched with impotent rage. Cords stood out on his neck and his broad shoulders bunched. When Dallas held his hand out for the knife, an unexpected sob broke from Jonah’s throat. He contemplated the blade, indecision clear in his eyes.
“It’ll be a kindness,” Dallas said.
Something in the werewolf’s voice reached the hunter, and Jonah responded by holding out the knife. Dallas took it carefully by the blade, rested it gently on the floor, and picked it back up by the handle.
“I don’t want to do this,” he said, voice catching. “There has to be another way.”
Aletia raised a hand to his cheek and held it there for a moment. She sighed a long, weary sigh and her arm dropped lifelessly to the floor.
“Now,” Jonah said.
“But I c-can save her,” Stanley said.
“Now,” Jonah repeated. “Before she turns,”
Stanley tried to step closer, but was blocked by Jonah’s massive arm. “I c-can,” he protested. “You g-gotta believe me.”
No one was listening. All eyes were on Dallas as he turned Aletia’s head to its side. He took a long, deep breath, exhaled, and shoved the bowie knife’s long blade into the back of her neck and up into her brain.
“Huuuunnngry,” zombie Stanley anno
unced, rocking eagerly from foot to foot across the room.
Lois and Herb startled, and Jonah moved to attack. Dallas jumped to his feet and planted himself firmly between the hunter and the undead version of his friend.
“No, not him,” Dallas commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You killed enough people today. You ain’t killing him.”
As he spoke, Herb stepped up to his side and bared his fangs. Lois moved to his other side and raised her hands. A crackling ball of hot, white energy formed and hovered like a small sun between her palms. Stanley moved next to Lois and raised his small fists.
“J-just go,” he told Jonah. “Go back to Ronnie’s. We c-can all fight later.”
Jonah sized them up. “What about Aletia?” he asked.
Dallas stood straighter and nodded his head. “We’ll bury her. Someplace beautiful. Someplace she would’ve liked.”
“Huuunnngry,” the zombie behind them complained.
“If you’re still in there, buddy, now would be a really good time to shut up,” Dallas advised over his shoulder.
The zombie’s shoulders slumped. “Ooohhh. Kaaaaayyyy,” he said.
A horn sounded from outside. The other hunters had circled back. Jonah gave the vampire, witch, werewolf, alien clone, and zombie a final long look, turned his back, and stomped outside. Stanley and his friends waited in tense silence until the heard the SUV’s engine fade in to the distance.
Something snapped in Dallas. He rounded on the only remaining upright zombie in the room.
“What in the damn hell is your problem?” he screamed. “Why did you do that? Why would you do that?”
The zombie shuffled from foot to foot. His teeth clicked as he opened and shut his mouth. His bloodshot eyes moved from Dallas to Herb to Lois, and finally to his twin. When Stanley and his undead double’s eyes met, Stanley saw something wholly unexpected. A look of sad confusion.
Undead Cheesehead (Monsters in the Midwest Book 3) Page 17
