“Screw it, run to the lights!” Jackie said forcefully.
“Are you sure?” Jen asked, lingering briefly.
Jackie tugged at her hesitating friend’s arm. “We don’t have a choice.”
“But what if it’s somebody like before?”
“You stay, you die,” Jackie said stone-faced. And so the four ran towards the mystery vehicle, unsure of who was driving it or what their intentions were. At this point it didn’t matter as fifteen very hungry cannibals sprinted after them. Some had been hobbled by injuries and left a bloody trail in their wake, but others were in peak physical condition. The same could not be said for the emaciated group of survivors.
However, the outcome of this chase would not be decided by how fast the runners were going, but by the speed of the incoming vehicle, which turned out to be a semi. And it was hauling ass.
Mary jumped up and down while waving her arms as the truck approached in a hurry. “It’s not slowing.”
In fact, it was speeding up, swerving and heading directly at them. The driver honked his horn loudly and, at the last second, cut to the right while locking up the brakes. On instincts the women hit the pavement as the semi jackknifed and its trailer flew forward with squealing tires and burning rubber. Caught unaware, the zombies were completely decimated by the high-risk maneuver of the lunatic behind the wheel.
Jackie and the others climbed out from beneath the trailer and peered up at the driver’s side of the cab as the window rolled down. The song “Radar Love” resounded from an expensive stereo system while a lit cigarette butt flew forth like a tracer round in the night. The song quieted. Next, a man with a mullet stuck his head out, grinning oddly as he lingered on Jackie’s supple legs for an excruciatingly protracted amount of time.
“Aren’t you just a tall drink of hot chocolate,” the man said with a twang. “The name’s Russell Yitzhak Kaminsky.”
“Wait, you’re Jewish?” Trent asked from the passenger seat.
“Wasn’t it obvious?” Russ said as he batted his disturbing eyes at the women. “Anyways, I’m single, willing to mingle.” They stared at him blankly. “You know, all alone and ready to bone?”
The world’s sole Jewish redneck zombie-hybrid had saved their lives. He was also drunk, dressed like a pirate, and had a raccoon (in a similar outfit) perched on his shoulder. But to the women, at that moment, he might as well have been a shirtless Brad Pitt riding in on Shadowfax while bottle-feeding a baby tiger.
Except for Jen, who recognized her fiancés “eccentric” uncle in an instant. Ignoring the smashed bodies in the road, her face lit up as she approached the truck. “Oh my God! Russ, I can’t believe it’s you!”
Trent had exited from the other side and walked around to make sure no zombies were pulling a Jason Voorhees. Once face to face with Jen, her smile grew even wider. “And Trent. I never thought I’d be happy to see you. So where’s Blake?”
Awkward. The cop opened his mouth but couldn’t vocalize the harsh reality that Blake had been killed by an injection of spoiled insulin. However, his non-answer was enough, and Jen collapsed as the rollercoaster ride of emotions finally overwhelmed her. Mary and Padma comforted her as Jackie sized up the newcomers.
It had been several days since Trent, Russ, and Marquell had emerged from the cavernous tunnels, and much had happened since then. They’d punched, kicked and choked each other numerous times while surviving one harebrained scheme after another. They’d traded jokes, recipes, threats, and insults including words like “bumpkinbilly,” “butt slug,” “bacon-bastard,” and so forth and so on. Russ had even driven off without the others once before coming back two hours later, drunker than David Hasselhoff on vacation. But, as often happens in life or death situations like these, strange bonds of brotherhood can form and the mismatched group had reached a bit of a détente for the moment. Not that Russ or Trent knew what that meant.
Russ had even made Marquell laugh a few times – on the inside at least – and that was a rare thing indeed. Sure, Marquell still had the passing desire to murder Trent every few hours, but not any more than Charlie had while living with him in the apartment.
For now they had an open road in front of them, a handful of attractive women in their presence, and some dead zombies to plunder. Things were looking up.
Jackie approached as the trio searched several dismembered corpses. “My boyfriend was with you the night before it all went down, at the bachelor party. Bruce?”
Trent sighed loudly, wondering why he always had to be the bearer of bad news. “Sorry. He was alive until just a few days ago. The Chinese came from nowhere…”
Jackie nodded. “At least I know. And he’s not out there hurting people. That’s a positive.”
“Nice!” Russ said as he pulled a small flask from a pair of bloody jeans. He tipped the metal container and drained its contents before even checking to see what it was, swishing the liquid around like mouthwash. “Charcoal-filtered scotch. Wasn’t expecting that.”
“What are you hauling?” Jackie asked, trying to glean any useful information she could. They had been burned by supposed rescuers once already and she was determined not to repeat the mistake. Unfortunately, it was Russ that decided to answer her. In great detail.
“Little lady, right now we’re pulling half a load of freight from Adam and Steve, the world’s premier source of gay sex toys. We’ve got butt plugs, double-sided dongs, pocket rockets, and some freaky shit that even I haven’t seen before. And that’s saying something because I have done some messed up stuff in my life. One time I was with my landlord’s wife, and we had a stapler and this bottle of hot sauce—”
“I get the picture,” Jackie said, visibly growing uncomfortable. She introduced her group and then thanked the men for their assistance. “If you could help us find a working vehicle, well, that would be great.” Despite their good deed, Jackie had decided it would be best to part ways, and soon. She was nothing if not rational.
“Sure thing,” Russ said and turned to the doctor. “Padma, isn’t that the chick in Star Wars? Not the real Star Wars but the one with that dumbass Jafar Binks fella.”
“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about, but would you mind backing up?” Padma said as she noticed his odd mannerisms and weirdly tinted green eyes. Then she detected Russ’s missing fingers and apparent lack of pain as he scratched his scraggly salt and pepper beard. She motioned for her friends to step away. “What’s going on here? Something’s not right with this man.”
“No shit,” Trent said and received four very dirty looks. He raised his hands in deference. “It’s complicated. Well, actually it’s not. He’s a zombie, but he’s our zombie. Unless he sobers up.”
“That ain’t happening,” Russ said and went back to searching the dead as Elvis scampered down and sniffed at a severed foot in the road.
“Or if you get seriously injured he’ll turn on you like a buster. Rest in peace, homie.” Marquell threw a few gang symbols up in remembrance of his fallen friend. He had come to the realization that Ace Kool would have died anyway, but it did not lessen the blow.
Padma’s interest was piqued by the story. “So he’s got the same desires and urges as the other cannibals running around, but for some reason he kept his mind?”
“What he had for one, anyway,” Trent replied.
“Strange, but fascinating,” Padma said as her impressive intellect worked in many different directions. “It appears he’s some type of carrier, like a modern day Typhoid Mary. Have you thought about taking him somewhere to get tested? This could be a breakthrough.”
“I don’t know who the fuck Typhoon Mary is, I was a gym major,” Trent said. “Ask me how to set up a kickball tournament though and I’m all over it.” He could be charming when he wanted to be, and with the sudden arrival of several attractive women, he wanted to be so in a bad way. “But to answer your question, yes, we are trying to take him somewhere. There’s a military base near Cantonvi
lle, and some of our other friends might be there already.”
The information was a blockbuster in that it gave the women the slightest bit of hope, which was something they had been sorely lacking. They walked away for a moment to plot their course.
“Ladies, any thoughts?” Padma said. “Should we go with them? There is strength in numbers, and if that guy’s the cure to this madness then we should help get him to his destination.” She looked to Jen. “But can they be trusted?”
Jen shrugged. “Russ was Blake’s uncle and I’ve known him for years. Sure he’s a turd, but he was harmless. Then again that was before he got turned into a zombie or whatever. And Trent’s always been an asshole. I never met the other guy.”
“So?” Padma said.
“I need to sleep. We can always change our minds later.”
Jackie looked to Mary. “What do you think?”
Mary still wasn’t used to people asking her opinion about anything, and it caught her off guard every time. “I trust Jen’s judgment,” she said.
“That’s it then.” Jackie turned to the men. “If it’s all right with you, we’d like to join up and head to that base together.”
The men smiled in unison, tripping over themselves to be the first to agree. It was amazing what women could do to them, even half-starved ones at that.
Jackie wasn’t finished. “Just understand that we won’t be putting up with any funny business. The last men that tangled with us ended up regretting it. In a big way.”
Trent nodded. “No problem. We’ve got half a tank of gas and we’re barely a few hours away. You girls can sleep in the trailer, and by the time you wake up we’ll be home free.” He grinned. “Now, if you choose to reward us after saving you and the world, well I won’t complain.”
Jackie laughed at his hubris. “Get us there first. And I’m riding up front.”
“Sure thing. We’ll just toss out some of the junk inside to make room for the others. Marquell, a little help?”
They headed towards the back and passed a detailed painting on the side of the cab that showed a horse rider jumping through a ring of fire. The previous owner had been known as “The Flaming Cowboy” for surviving numerous car bombs in Iraq, but he hadn’t lasted ten minutes into the apocalypse. It just went to show that when it’s your time to go, you go.
“I call dibs on the black chick,” Trent whispered to Marquell. “Non-negotiable.”
“Bullshit,” Marquell whispered in reply. He ignored a pair of brass truck nuts dangling underneath the license plate and unlocked the door to the trailer, shoving it upwards. Some of the raunchy freight had shifted during Russ’s stunt and tumbled onto the ground. One of the packages began buzzing loudly.
Trent chuckled at the inappropriate pile of novelties, but then his face turned pale and he grew still. Standing back a few feet into the shadows was a man with a gun and a bowler hat.
Xavier McDaniels, last of the Gutter Punks, psychopath, and all around dickhead had been stowed away like the yeti in Russ’s favorite movie, Big Trouble in Little China. Xavier grinned but didn’t say a word. His gun talked for him as he fired several times into the group at point blank range.
Trent knew what he should do. He knew what he must do. And for the first time in his life, he actually did it. Several bullets struck him as he jumped in front of Jackie and her friends. Whether it was guilt over his past actions or his blossoming heart, the cop had stepped up in a big way. But he paid dearly for it, and now writhed in agony on the ground.
Unfortunately Trent’s bulky body had not stopped all the bullets, and Jen lay dead next to him with a gunshot wound to the temple. Painless and quick. It was her time to go.
Xavier jumped down from the trailer while keeping his gun pointed at the others, prepared to execute them one by one. He’d been hiding inside for days, dying of thirst, plotting his revenge, and waiting for someone to eventually unlock the door.
Long seconds passed and he still hadn’t spoken a word, enjoying the look of terror on his surprised victims’ faces. Having gloated enough, Xavier aimed at Trent’s chest to finish him off.
However, before he could pull the trigger, one of the crushed zombies – or one half of a crushed zombie to be precise – reached out from underneath the truck and grabbed his leg. Panicking, Xavier fired several times into the zombie’s skull and kicked the dead beast away.
Marquell rushed forward but Xavier whirled and pointed the gun directly at his face, stopping the man in his tracks. The Gutter Punk didn’t fire though. He’d lost track of how many shots were left, and if he ran out the angry group was sure to beat him to death. Xavier instead stepped sideways and grabbed the first woman within arm’s reach. It was Mary.
The others tensed up even further, as if ready to charge. He needed a plan, and quick. Xavier knew he couldn’t drive a big rig, and so it was off to the forest with his hostage in tow. He backed up, clutching Mary tightly with the gun pressed firmly to her spine.
“The minute I see one of you assholes following me, she’s the first to die.” He nodded to Trent. “I’ll see you in hell. It looks like you’ll be waiting for me.” But Trent had already passed out from pain and blood loss.
Xavier walked backwards for several yards and then dragged Mary off towards the forest. They disappeared a moment later as the others tried to stop Trent’s bleeding and argued about what to do.
Jackie pushed Jen’s lifeless eyes shut. “We need to go get Mary,” she said, steeling her nerves. “We can’t just leave her with that murderer. She wouldn’t do that to us.”
Surprisingly, Padma dissented. “But if he sees us he’ll kill her on the spot. I don’t know if there’s much that we can do about that. Besides, the woods are still crawling with the hungry ones.”
Jackie shook her head while clutching her axe furiously. “We have to try.”
“This man is seriously hurt, but thankfully the bullets went clean through,” Padma said, turning back to Trent. “Still, it’s imperative to get these wounds closed up ASAP. I can do it, but it will take proper tools. We need to find a hospital.”
Russ had staggered back to the action moments earlier and saw Trent’s gaping injuries and Jen’s prone body. “Aw, fuck it,” he said sadly. Then his mouth started to water and his stomach growled. He turned around after tossing his pirate shirt to Padma for a bandage.
Underneath the costume was what one would expect: a stained white t-shirt with an amateurish tribal tattoo peeking out from the neckline. In many ways, the man broke the mold. But in others he fit the usual stereotypes down to a T.
“Put him in the back of the trailer and I’ll get us to a hospital. I know a shortcut.”
Chapter 16: Fatso
To say that Big Rob had been pouting all morning would be a vast understatement. He had even almost sulked his way through lunch. Almost. But after wolfing down some of Vlad’s free-range fried chicken, he went right back to giving his nemesis the stink eye while bringing up the rear.
It was still painful for Katya to talk, but she was determined to do her part for the group. At the moment, that meant cheering up her protector and offering some heartfelt advice. She timidly touched his shoulder. “There are not many people left. The ones that are must be left for a reason. Trust in that.”
Rob wanted to believe his new friend and could see she was sincere, but his anger and resentment levels were too strong for kind words to overcome. “You don’t understand, Katya. My whole life has been shit. Sorry, I meant poop. And for one moment it looked like Big Rob was gonna come out on top. I was fighting for a world title, and my dreams were within reach. And Vlad, he took it from me. Made me an even bigger joke than I already was. I still have nightmares about that night. Just looking at him makes me want to throw up.”
Katya was undeterred by Rob’s reaction and the fact that every word she spoke physically hurt. “If things were different, would you be here right now? With loved ones like Charlie, and yes, even Left-Nut?”
&n
bsp; “I guess not,” Rob said. “Who knows where I would have ended up, but I sure would have been too busy for Blake’s bachelor party.”
“So maybe it worked out for best? All have roles to play, and yours might be just beginning. Possibly Vlad’s too?”
“Sure.”
“What’s that smell?” she asked, the flawless side of her face wrinkling in displeasure as the scarred side remained motionless.
“Sorry, I beefed,” Rob said and turned bright red. “Might want to get upwind of me for a few minutes.”
Katya nodded. “We can finish our talk later.”
“That’s a good idea. There’s probably more where that came from. But thanks. I’ll be thinking about what you said.”
Up ahead, a different type of conversation was going on.
“Stop calling Sam a pledge and stop cussing so freaking much,” Charlie said to Left-Nut. “He’s just a kid, and no, he’s not going through hell week. And Katya’s a nun, goddammit. Let’s try to have some class for once. Can you dial it back a little?”
“You mean I can’t call you a douche-gargling thundercunt?” Left-Nut asked.
“No.”
“How about a fucktard?”
“Nope,” Charlie replied.
“A butthead?”
“Reel it back in. Too far,” Charlie said.
“A jerkwagon?”
“Acceptable. But in case you haven’t noticed, the rest of us are getting along pretty well. Even Vlad has been okay so far. Your shtick is getting old.”
Left-Nut dropped his act for just a moment. “I never signed up for this long, sucky adventure, remember? Rob pulled me from the helicopter. I was home free. Heck, I’d already be at the base right this second.”
“Oh, I remember. You were willing to leave us behind.”
“Not everyone’s a hero. You were just like me a few weeks ago. Maybe on the inside you still are.”
Dead Drunk II: Dawn of the Deadbeats (Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time Book 2) Page 12
