Dead Drunk II: Dawn of the Deadbeats (Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time Book 2)

by Richard Johnson

  “It’s like something from a horror movie,” Bobby added. He was still hanging back a little and fidgeting with his watch. “Kids eating their parents, neighbors killing each other over bread, no electricity…”

  “Then how can you rescue us?” Padma asked. “We are entirely isolated out here. We should probably just stay put.”

  Phil nodded. “True, it is isolated, but how much food do you have?” Nobody answered and he continued, “We’ve got a pretty big houseboat and lots of supplies. Bobby’s wife and kids and my girlfriend are there as we speak. You’d have to pull your own weight, but if it’s just the four of you, we have enough room.”

  “Yeah, it’s just us,” Mary said without thinking.

  Jackie cringed inside. “She means it’s just us inside right now. My boyfriend and a few others are out hunting for supplies and should be back any minute. We’ll tell them about your offer, though.”

  “Is that so?” Phil said and smiled, revealing a set of horribly crooked teeth that clashed with his outwardly preppy appearance. “I guess we better get on with it then.” He stood up and produced a pistol tucked underneath his shirt. “You see, those things about the houseboat and the wife and kids are true. But the part about you coming with us, well that part’s bullshit.” He took a step back and cocked his gun.

  Bobby did the same and it became obvious they were more pirate than nerd. “Toss that crowbar in the lake. Anyone else that has a weapon should do the same. If I find anything dangerous on you in a minute, it’s gonna be used against you.”

  Mary tossed her knife into the drink and Bobby proceeded to check the women, lingering whenever and however he wanted during the search. His breath smelled like an odd combination of whiskey and stinky cheese, and his body odor was even worse.

  Phil seemed rather pleased with himself for having taken total control of the situation. “So now we’re gonna be grabbing whatever food you have and we’ll be on our way. We have mouths to feed, after all.” He pointed to Jackie. “Take Bobby with you to where you store it. If you’re not back in two minutes then one of your friends will be wishing you had been.”

  Jackie nodded and took the man to the station’s pantry where she handed over three cans of baked beans. They walked back to the others and Bobby set the goods down one at a time on a bench.

  Phil took a look at the cans and fired his pistol at Jackie’s head, missing her by inches. “You think I’m some kind of idiot? I’m supposed to believe with four grown women out here all you’ve got to eat is three cans of beans?”

  “That’s it, you can search the whole place if you’d like, but we have no other food,” Jackie said, contemplating a wild charge at the man. She believed she could take him with a little luck, and maybe even wrestle the gun away while her friends tackled Bobby.

  But there was no time for heroics as Phil pointed his pistol at Padma. “I’m gonna count to three, and if someone doesn’t tell me where the rest of the food is, I’m gonna blow her damned brains out. One. Two. Thr—”

  “Fine, I’ll take you to the food,” Jackie said. “Will you leave us then?”

  “We’ll leave when we get what we came for.”

  Jackie took Phil across the bridge to the outdated and abandoned second pumping station. Inside the old building was a large hole that had previously been the water intake section. Jackie grabbed a rope that dangled into the lake and pulled a fishing net out. It was crammed with canned goods of all types.

  “Jackpot,” Phil said. “My wife’s gonna give me a big hug when I show up with this stuff.” He took the bounty back to the others while holding Jackie at gunpoint.

  “Nice grab,” Bobby said and gave him a fist bump.

  Jackie pressed her luck. “That’s it. You have everything you came for.”

  Phil looked into her furious brown eyes. “No… not everything.”

  “What’s are you getting at?”

  “There’s just a little matter of punishment for not telling the truth,” Phil said as his geeky face hardened.

  The lust in Bobby’s eyes was undeniable. “I always wanted a harem. Nice little selection here too. Very exotic.”

  These men had been invisible their entire lives, and now they had a chance to correct all their old grievances, real and imagined, against the finer sex. “Sweetheart, the next time a man with a gun asks you for something, give it to him,” Phil said to Jackie. Then he looked at each girl for an uncomfortable moment before settling on Mary. “You. You’re not as pretty as the others, but at least you have some damned makeup on.”

  “All tarted up for a night out on the town,” Bobby added with a snicker.

  “Would have been nice if you other tramps put forth some effort. Maybe next time. Grab her and let’s go,” Phil said and pointed to their boat, a small charter fishing vessel they had commandeered during the outbreak.

  Jen had remained quiet the entire time, but chose this moment to step forward. The reason was simple: she knew Mary was a virgin. So, feeling guilty about her own actions and acting against all better judgment, she decided to intervene. And to do that she had to place her life and body in the hands of two men drunk on newly found power.

  “You don’t want her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but I’ll curl your toes in. That’s a fact.” It was ridiculous, but she had made up her mind.

  Phil smirked. “Fine. Hop in.”

  Jen climbed aboard the boat without a struggle as her friends begged her not to go. At least she had made the decision, Jen unconvincingly told herself. It was little comfort once the ordeal began.

  There was no rescue attempt launched and no sudden arrival of do-gooders as the boat slipped away from the artificial island. Instead, the jackals circled the station about a hundred yards out, close enough that Jen’s screams for help easily carried to those left behind. And they could do nothing for her.

  Padma and Mary trembled with anger and sorrow while Jackie stayed focused on the task at hand, searching for any type of weapon she could find. But there was nothing useful around. They were defenseless.

  The psychos returned after half an hour of sadistic torture, and Phil tossed Jen, used and abused, onto the concrete floor. Then he addressed the women as they tended to their unconscious friend. “We’ll be back. And you better have fish waiting for us or someone else is getting the special treatment. Hell, who am I kidding? Somebody’s getting the treatment regardless. But without any fish, it’s gonna be worse.”

  Bobby gave them a wink and untied the boat. “Well… bye.”

  And so the boat left with the two men, one a teacher and the other a janitor, laughing heartily. Soon they would reach loved ones waiting for them with bated breath and smiling faces, eager for stories of adventure and the promise of life-giving food.

  Chapter 12: No Rest for the Wicked

  A large man named Kyle walked through an Illinois forest with nothing particular on his mind and no agenda to speak of. This day, like many days lately, had been rather uneventful. That is, until a screaming child caught his meager attention. He quietly turned and moved in the direction of the screams with haste. Only it wasn’t benevolence or curiosity driving him on. Kyle was infected. And he was one dangerous son of a bitch.

  Once remembered for his perpetual smile and gentle demeanor, now he was consumed by hunger and anger, but mostly hunger. The family man and practical joker had been transformed into an unintentional face-eating flesh-ripping terror. Looming six-foot-six and tipping the scales at a ripped two-thirty, Kyle had become an outlier of the deadly variety. The college basketball star and successful business executive had been impressive in life. As a killer, he was even more so.

  If anyone was keeping track of stats – and nobody was – Kyle would be ranking somewhere near the top of North America when it came to murders, mayhem, and overall zombie badass-itude. He could rip doors off hinges, snatch a person from halfway up a tree and chase down all but the swiftest of men. He’d overran one small town all by himself, wander
ing into the back of a town-hall meeting, unnoticed until it was too late, and the panic spiral had begun.

  Still, a zombie can’t be blamed for its appetite any more than a lion or shark, even one as prolific as Kyle. And so it was that Kyle’s desires and keen sense of hearing brought him directly face to face with a lovable burnout called Smokey.

  Smokey had been singing his favorite Grateful Dead song (off-key) in an unsuccessful bid to calm the kid down. He stopped in his tracks. “Heya man,” Smokey said at the sight of Kyle before realizing it was a zombie peering at him from the undergrowth. But when Kyle burst from the bushes like a fox after a hare, there was no question about his intentions.

  Contending with the squirming and screaming child, Smokey backpedaled and turned to flee, ducking under a low hanging branch at the last second. Kyle didn’t see it and wouldn’t have cared if he did, and the solid oak bough cracked him good, tearing a chunk of his scalp off in the process. The violent collision slowed him down, but not by much, and soon the muscle-bound monster bounded after his target with renewed vigor. Long legs brought him closer to his prey with every single step, and the noisy child was literally putting him into a frenzy.

  Years of toking up while watching cartoons on Adult Swim hadn’t left Smokey in prime running shape, but being on the menu was one hell of a motivator. Luckily for him the chase had started when he was almost back to the convent, and before long the walled compound was in sight.

  “Open the gate!” Smokey managed to shout between gasps for precious, precious air.

  At long last, little Todd finally stopped crying and began to giggle as he bounced around on Smokey’s shoulder, thinking it was some sort of game rather than a mad race for their lives.

  Sister Katherine was hard of hearing and down to her last eye, the other having been replaced by a crudely painted glass prosthetic. Even so, she’d remained an integral member of the convent, carrying out her duties cheerfully and proficiently. Her one job at the moment was to wait for the return of Charlie and company. So when Smokey came screaming and running across the field at such a rapid pace, she rushed to act. Unfortunately, Sister Katherine’s rushing was actually quite slow, and her arthritic fingers, crippled by years of hand-sewing Rosary baubles, could only move so fast.

  The stress of the situation caused her to get flustered, and so she stopped in the process of unlocking the gate to say a short prayer. Smokey was almost at the gate now and Kyle was less than a stone’s throw behind him. The nun resumed her task with shaking and weak hands. She grasped the latch. It wouldn’t move.

  Smokey reached the gate and saw the woman fumbling with the latch. He grasped underneath Todd’s arms and prepared to chuck him over the eight-foot fence, realizing it was better than the alternative. “Sorry, buddy,” he said and began to throw the child, but then the gate opened.

  Smokey stopped mid-toss and tumbled onto the ground inside the compound. He spun around and shut the gate as Sister Katherine locked the latch, and the hard-charging zombie slammed into it. Todd was still laughing.

  A winded Smokey looked to the nun. “I really need to stop smoking pot. Do you know how to bake brownies?”

  Of course, the nun had taken a vow of silence and didn’t answer. She patted the child on the head, pointed Smokey towards the front door, and turned to face Kyle. Then Sister Katherine fell to her knees, praying for the zombie’s salvation.

  Smokey rolled his eyes and walked inside the convent where the Mother Superior was waiting. She grabbed Todd and handed him over to the scarred nun who promptly whisked the now-sleeping child upstairs. “Where are your friends?” Mother Agnes asked.

  “No clue. We got separated and… I just don’t know.” He pulled the bag of supplies from around his shoulder and set it down. “Charlie and Rob have been in some tight spots before. They might turn up.”

  “And the child?”

  “He was an orphan we picked up. I have some diapers and toys for him. Not sure what you’re gonna do about milk and stuff.”

  “We have a cow and the finest fruits and vegetables around,” she said, then smiled. “I have to say, I am impressed. That kind of selfless act is a bit surprising from a group that includes your friend Matthew.”

  “Mathew? Oh, you mean Left-Nut… I mean Lefty. Was he giving you shi—?”

  “He has been a bit challenging. At first I thought it was his injury giving him fits, or the painkillers. But after conversing with the man I am confident he’s absolutely as advertised. But back to the child.”

  “Todd.”

  “He will be well cared for here. Obviously you’ll leave him behind when you move on.”

  Smokey nodded as he thought about Todd’s wailing. It would be safer for everyone involved if the child stayed with the gentle flock. Not to mention the crying was getting on his nerves. He remembered the monster from outside. “Oh, and there’s one more thing. A huge cannibal, zombie, cavity creep – or whatever you want to call it – is outside. One of the nuns is out there with him right now. You should get her inside. These things, they need more than prayers.”

  “More than prayers? There’s no such thing, and prayers might be exactly what these creatures need. Certainly, the one who gave life to all could restore it to those that have passed, if that is his will.”

  Smokey was about to delve into one of his favorite topics. “Sorry, but we’re not talking about undead zombies here. This is a whole different ball of wax. They’re—”

  “You might be an expert on zompies, but I happen to know a bit about the scripture. And this situation is hardly novel.”

  As Mother Agnes pontificated on the various finer points of scripture while Smokey’s eyes glazed over, Sister Katherine was putting those points into practice. She silently introduced herself to the man on the other side of the fence, then fell to her knees once more and closed her eye. If there was one thing the eighty-five-year-old could still do as well as any younger person, it was pray. And so she prayed for Kyle the zombie six ways to Sunday. She really gave it to him, hitting all the high notes as well as some lesser-known quotes she’d saved for a special occasion. Minutes later, Sister Katherine opened her eye, confident the prayers had been answered. Kyle was standing right next to her.

  In an instant he was upon her, savagely taking hold and tearing into her withered and papery flesh. Lost in her prayers and hard of hearing, Sister Katherine had not noticed Kyle jumping onto the top of the fence and scampering over, and it cost the kindly woman her life.

  Kyle plucked Katherine’s fake eyeball from its socket and chewed with gusto, shattering teeth and shredding his mouth to a prickly, bloody mush. And he enjoyed every second of it, having no idea the gore was of his own making. Soon, the nun stood up and followed him to the front door, no longer bothered by her sore joints and crippling arthritis.

  Sister Francesca, a shy nun from El Salvador, was just going outside to tend to the vegetable garden and didn’t even see them approaching. They latched on and feasted in earnest while Francesca opened her mouth in a silent scream. Having dutifully followed her oath of silence for eight years, her vocal cords were not strong enough to register above a whisper, and so the rest of the convent carried on about their business, unaware of the foxes in the henhouse.

  The next unlucky lady to enter the buzz saw was Sister Martha, a wheelchair-bound nun that was in the midst of wheeling herself towards the kitchen for dish detail. She saw the bloody mess and frantically tried to turn her chair around, tipping it over in the process. Several bites later and she too was added to the ranks of the infected.

  It was at this point in time that Left-Nut came hobbling into the entryway looking for more painkillers. “Are those douche nozzles back with my stuff? These pills are starting to wear off and—” he stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the growing puddle of blood on the marble floor. That’s when Sister Martha started crawling after him with murder on the mind. “Jesus Christ!” he screamed and hopped away towards the kitchen on one foot, barely keep
ing ahead of her slobbering mouth.

  Hearing the commotion, Smokey and Mother Agnes ran in from the adjoining room and found themselves face to face with Kyle and his growing posse of nightmare nuns.

  “Not this fucking guy again,” Smokey said as Agnes pulled him into a tiny bathroom, shutting the door before the others could reach them. Their safety was short-lived, however, as bodies began slamming into the wooden door with great force.

  Smokey looked around the small room for a weapon and settled for the porcelain lid from the toilet tank. “What? It’s either this or the plunger,” Smokey said as the door continued to shake from the naughty nuns.

  “You won’t need either,” Mother Agnes said and pointed to the frosted glass window before pushing the panel open. “Sometimes, when God closes a door, he opens a wind—”

  Kyle’s long arms shot through the opening and yanked Mother Agnes outside in a violent split second. Her zombie converting experiment was over before it began, and now she was on the other team, clamoring for warm sustenance.

  Not waiting for Kyle to grab him as well, Smokey decided to take his chances with the hungry nuns instead. He opened the door and shoved one-eyed Katherine back before slamming the lid down on Sister Francesca’s head, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

  Smokey ran past them and bounded up the stairs with the twin terrors in hot pursuit. Where he was going he had no clue, but sticking around wasn’t an option anymore.

  Luckily for him, Sam appeared at the top of the landing and fired his rifle off, dropping both nuns after missing several times.

  “Sweet shooting, partner,” Smokey said and grinned. But the expression soon faded as the tall zombie responsible for the bloodbath wandered back through the front door, somehow hungrier than ever.

  Sam pulled the trigger and realized he was out of ammo. “Uh oh.”

  Kyle sprinted up the stairs and chased the two down a long hallway where they found themselves in front of a locked bedroom. They pounded on the door until it opened up, finding the disfigured nun and Todd inside. They shut the door in a hurry, and once more Kyle was left banging on the other side.