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

by Richard Johnson

  The words stung Charlie because they were some of the truest Left-Nut had ever spoken. “Look, we’re just a few days out from the base. If you’re so miserable you can go your own way when we get there. I won’t let Rob stop you this time.”

  As if to signal the end of the discussion, a zombie wearing tattered clothing stumbled onto the trail. Rob instantly ran towards it, prepared to demolish the middle-aged woman with little effort. But Vlad was faster and threw his massive blade after tucking out of an entirely unnecessary monkey-roll. The knife flew past Rob’s head and caught the cannibal in the throat, ending the thing’s life with a rasp and a gurgle.

  “You almost cut my damned nose off!” Rob shouted as he walked briskly towards Vladimir.

  The Bulgarian cracked his knuckles and turned to face Rob. “Vlad faster. Always have been. Is why you lost in Vegas.”

  “That’s garbage and you know it. You tapped out and everyone saw it on the video.”

  Vlad smiled broadly and chuckled. “Is sour grapes.”

  “Fuck your grapes! Communist bastard.”

  “Again, not communist, simple fuck.”

  “Guys, take it down a notch,” Charlie said as the twin titans’ temperatures rose. Of course, they ignored him.

  Left-Nut grinned at Charlie. “One big happy family, huh? Aren’t you going to tell them to stop cussing too?”

  The shouting brought two more cannibals in from the woods and both of the warriors raced towards them. Vladimir stopped hard before darting to the side and sweeping his leg out for a trip. The zombie fell face first and the fighter was upon it in a flash. He wrapped his arm underneath the creature’s chin and broke its neck with a quick snap.

  Not to be outdone, Rob tossed his bat aside and grabbed the last zombie underneath both armpits, hoisting the man high into the air until its head got caught between two thick tree limbs. Big Rob jumped up and yanked down hard at the same time. The result was a gruesome pop as the headless body tumbled to the ground with Rob on top of it.

  “This is like break dance fighting, but dumber,” Smokey said. “And it’s gonna get us all killed.”

  “Enough!” Charlie said with conviction. “Both of you knock it off. And grow up while you’re at it.”

  Rob hung his head while Vlad shrugged his shoulders and retrieved his blade from the downed zombie. The meathead eruption was over, but it could happen again at any time, and Charlie knew it.

  Ping and Pong emerged from up ahead to see what all the commotion was about, and Left-Nut spent a few minutes attempting to communicate with them. Finally they agreed to return to their scouting positions, and the long march continued.

  Smokey tried to settle things down and struck up a conversation with Vlad. “You were a paratrooper, huh? You’d never catch me jumping out of a plane,” Smokey said.

  Vlad smiled. “In Bulgaria, sometimes safest option.”

  “I’d go parachuting if I could,” Sam said. “I’ve never even been in a plane though. I rode the train once.”

  “First time Vlad jumped, pissed pants. Just like Rob did when—” Screams from nearby stopped him mid-sentence. “Sounds like woman,” he said.

  A minute later the entire crew was assembled on the edge of the forest with a dilapidated farmhouse dead ahead. Someone was yelling for help from inside and the noise had attracted several cannibals that were now milling about on the porch, attempting to find a way inside.

  “Could be a trap. They call out for help and then pick us all off in the field,” Charlie said. “It’s an easy way to get supplies.”

  Sam nodded. “I lost one of my friends kind of like that. We were just looking for food and they shot him. That’s why I said we should avoid farmhouses, remember?”

  “But who would just be yelling like this in the middle of nowhere?” Smokey said. “Especially if it’s gonna draw zombies.”

  Charlie sighed. That usually meant he would regret the decision that was coming. “How does this sound? We draw those random dickheads over here and take them out. Then we send one volunteer in to check out the situation. We help someone out, and if we find supplies, well that’s just the cherry on top. Any takers?” Rob and Vlad both volunteered, and Charlie did not feel like arguing about it. “You’ll both go then. After we kill the… hey I said we’d—”

  The men were already racing across the field and would arrive at the derelict house any moment.

  “I’m going too,” Smokey said and took off.

  “Fine, all of us then. But spread out,” Charlie said and the rest followed him into the open.

  The zombies on the porch didn’t even notice Vlad until he reached the first one, jabbing his knife through the back of its neck and ripping violently to the side. He turned to face the second but Rob was already swinging away, the pinging sound of his bat marking each deathblow.

  As everyone safely reached the porch, Katya said a quick prayer for the fallen while the screams from inside continued. Rob kicked the wooden door off its rusty hinges and it fell inwards, shooting up a cloud of dust while a swarm of flies buzzed around them before disappearing in the wind. The smell inside was as thick and nauseating as the corner store by Charlie’s apartment.

  Left-Nut backed away. “Nope. I’m not doing it. I’ll be waiting out here.”

  The screaming continued and appeared to be coming from upstairs. “Momma! Momma, get up here now!” Of course, this caused even more zombies to begin running from the woods.

  Left-Nut walked inside. “Never mind,” he said as the others put the door back into place and shoved a china hutch filled with porcelain pigs up against it.

  The rest of the house was a complete disaster, with newspapers, empty cans of double-meat chili, fast food wrappers galore, and plain old junk everywhere.

  “Man, this place reminds me of that hoarding show I used to watch,” Smokey said as he slipped in a pile of rat droppings. “I’d get baked and think about going into a place like this and just how much fun I’d have recycling everything.”

  “It was probably already a dump before the shit hit the fan,” Left-Nut said as the creatures outside began to pound on the door.

  Charlie ignored the chatter. “We should get upstairs and stop that racket.”

  “I found Momma,” Sam said from around a mountain of newspapers in what appeared to be a living room. Nearby, a middle-aged woman sat on a 70s style couch. A shotgun was in the lady’s mouth and her brains stained the ceiling as if someone had thrown a large tomato in the air.

  “Blood’s completely dried up, which means she’s been dead several days,” Smokey said, playing amateur detective once more. He pointed to the brain matter on the ceiling and did his best David Caruso impersonation. “I guess she was a bit of an… airhead. Yeah!”

  Charlie rolled his eyes and then cautiously made his way up a staircase crowded with towers of crumbling books that threatened to tip over at any moment. The yelling intensified as he neared the source. Charlie nodded to the Koreans and then nudged the bedroom door open. Ping and Pong entered, ready to blast away if needed, but they quickly lowered their weapons and walked out, holding their noses.

  Charlie peeked around the corner and the stench overwhelmed him. The room smelled even worse than downstairs due to a full-throated bouquet of body odor, human waste, dirty dishes, and a moldy carpet soiled with only god knows what. Sunken into a queen-sized bed was a king-sized man that looked like he weighed nearly five hundred pounds.

  He looked at Charlie with a mixture of panic and hope. “Who are you? Where’s my Momma!” he asked in a high-pitched whiny voice.

  “Shh, shh. It’s okay. My names Charlie and—”

  “Do you have something for me to eat?” Charlie shook his head and the man went right back to calling for his mother like a baby bird chirping for a worm. An enormous baby bird. “Momma, I’m hungry! Where’s my chili! You promised!”

  Charlie stepped closer and heard the rotted floor groan underneath him. Left-Nut and Smokey peeked around hi
s shoulder and their combined weight was about to cause a disaster. “Be right back,” Charlie said while shoving his friends into the hallway. He took a breath of somewhat fresher air and then gathered everyone downstairs.

  “What’s going on up there?” Katya asked. “Is someone injured?”

  Charlie was about to explain when the screaming upstairs picked up again. After a few seconds it died down, and he was able to get a sentence in. “Let’s just say we have a big problem on our hands.”

  “You think? And here I thought Rob was a fatass,” Left-Nut said, earning a punch to the arm. “This guy’s a real butterball. We’re talking all-you-can-eat zombie buffet.”

  “Oh, so you’re a fat-shamer now too?” Smokey said. “Is there no depth to your depravity?”

  “Far from it. I’ve nailed more fat chicks than anybody. Ain’t no shame in my game.”

  Charlie was about to lose it and none of his usual tricks to ignore Left-Nut were working. “You’re like a bad case of herpes. Always flaring up at the worst times.”

  “Speaking from experience?” Left-Nut turned to smirk at Katya and whispered, “Charlie banged a hooker. Shocking, I know. I was very disappointed in him.”

  “Just knock it off,” Charlie said, trying to calm himself down. “Look, the screamer is his own worst enemy, not ours.”

  Left-Nut scoffed. “Here we go again with Captain Feelings over here.”

  “The dude’s mom wasn’t doing him any favors either, feeding him like that,” Smokey said. “Nobody gets that big on their own. You need an accomplice for that.”

  Charlie nodded. “By the looks of this place the lady was shoveling cans of chili into his mouth and then offed herself when it ran out.”

  “I will talk with the poor soul,” Katya said and headed for the stairs. “Maybe I can calm him down.”

  Charlie grabbed her wrist. “It isn’t safe. The floor’s disintegrating as we speak and it could cave in.”

  “So?” Smokey said. “We can’t leave him like this. He’ll starve. It might take a while, but still.”

  “What, you gonna shoot him?” Left-Nut asked. “Kind of goes against this humanitarian streak you guys have going.”

  As the argument continued, Sam got bored and went off to explore the rest of the house. He returned moments later with an ashen look on his face. “There’s another body over there.”

  “And?” Left-Nut said.

  “You might want to take a look. This one’s different.”

  Indeed it was. Inside the dining room was the dead man in question, propped up at the table and wearing a homemade Christmas sweater. Of course, Smokey’s amateur sleuthing skills kicked into high gear as he weighed the situation. “This place is giving me the creeps now. Homeboy has been dead for years.”

  “I’ll bite,” Charlie said. “How would you know?”

  “Basic forensics. This is more of a mummy than a corpse. The body doesn’t smell too awful and the skin is drawn back.” Smokey pointed to the eyes. “And those have been sewn shut like you might see on an old shrunken head. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

  “So they just kept a dead body in the house like it’s no big deal?” Sam said. “I’m freaked out too. Can we go?”

  Left-Nut began to chuckle, though the sentiment behind it was obviously fake. “Bravo, Charlie. You’ve led us into the Manson family’s summer home. We’ve got a suicide Granny, King Tut over here, zombies on the porch, and Fatty McFatfuck upstairs screaming like a god-damned porn star.”

  The pitiful wails picked up again, even louder this time. Then they stopped mid-scream. Charlie looked around the room and noticed somebody was missing.

  “Where’s Vlad?”

  Nobody answered.

  A creaking noise revealed the answer as the Bulgarian came down the cluttered stairs with a blank look on his face. “Is done,” he said matter-of-factly and wiped his blade on a dirty towel hanging from the banister.

  “What is done?” Charlie asked pointedly.

  “Severed artery and big boy bled out in seconds. Not painful.”

  Charlie blinked rapidly. “Damn, Vlad, that’s just not right. We could have done something else.”

  “Right, wrong? It no matter, is done. Besides, you want rescue pregnant girlfriend or waste time babysitting Porky Pig?”

  Left-Nut nodded in agreement. “He has you there, Chuck.”

  Furious, Charlie measured his words carefully as Rob stood by his side, itching for a violent reckoning. “Regardless, you just joined our crew and you’re already—”

  “No, you joined Vlad’s crew,” the fighter said with hard eyes and a cold demeanor. Charlie stared right back and it appeared a bloodletting was imminent.

  Then Vlad winked. “Just kidding. Come on, we kill guys on porch and get moving. Lots of ground to cover.”

  The tension in the room dropped, but Charlie was left wondering about the newest member of their group. Was Vlad testing him? Was he a calculating manipulator, a madman, or just an idiot? The Bulgarian grinned as he opened the door to eviscerate the zombies outside and it became quite clear. He was all of the above. And he was a big fucking problem.

  Chapter 17: Old Baggage

  Xavier dragged Mary in circles through the forest for several hours and ended up somewhat close to where they had started, next to the highway of smashed up zombies. He had correctly guessed that his victims would flee the area, and he now wanted to find a vehicle to do the same.

  He’d also used the last of his ammo on some random cannibals and now held his captive through the threat of violence alone. With mild-mannered Mary, it was more than enough to keep her in check.

  Unfortunately for Xavier none of the cars were usable, so he had to figure out what to do next. The last of the Gutter Punks decided to rest for a bit while pondering the situation. Free time for a sadist is always dangerous to those under their control, and Mary would find this out in short order.

  Xavier used a cracked shard of windshield glass to cut out a seatbelt, which he used to fashion hand restraints and a blindfold for his captive.

  “Don’t worry about me running away,” Mary said, speaking the first words to him since the whole fiasco started. “I have nowhere to go since you took me away from my friends. I wouldn’t last five minutes out there.”

  Xavier chuckled in an unseemly manner. “If they were your friends they wouldn’t have left you. Anyways, those aren’t supposed to keep you from running away. I have something… different in mind.”

  Before she had time to realize what that may be, the cretin lurched forward and shoved his tongue forcefully down Mary’s throat. She froze up, earning a swat to the ear. “What are you doing?” she asked and pulled her head back.

  Again, the chuckling. “This is called foreplay. Do you know what that is?”

  “Not really.”

  Xavier sighed. “You’re taking all the fun out of this.” He scanned the road around them for any dangers and turned back. “All right, you’re gonna dance for me. And make it sexy. I don’t have all day.”

  “But—”

  “Just fucking do it!”

  Mary swayed around in a shambling manner, looking more confused and disoriented than anything else. She thought about shaking the blindfold loose and making a break for the woods, but with her hands tied it would be near impossible to escape. She realized this was how Jen must have felt and then began to sob, thinking about the death of her friend.

  “I said sexy, bitch. Did you fall off the turnip truck or something?” Xavier set down his empty pistol, adjusted the ratty bowler hat he’d taken from a corpse, and clenched his fists. The woman was merely slowing him down and she wouldn’t be around for much longer because of it. But she could still serve his nefarious purposes in one way or another.

  He opened the back door to a broken down SUV and shoved Mary inside headfirst, causing her to crash into the door on the opposite side.

  “I’ve been around a lot of women in my day. Slut
s, crack heads, soccer moms looking for a quick fix before driving back to the suburbs. You don’t fit any of those groups at all. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re a virgin. That true?” Mary didn’t answer, and Xavier kept right on talking. “They say your first time is the one that you always remember. They say it should be special. But I gotta be honest, it’s not gonna be.”

  The chuckling ended as he approached the open door with a stern face. “My first time was with my third grade teacher, Mr. Murphy. Kind of hard to forget that, though I tried.”

  Mary grasped for straws. “I’m sorry, but hurting me won’t—”

  “Shut it. This is gonna happen, so you’d better just accept it. And you’ll want to stay quiet, because if any of these creatures comes around you’re my escape plan. Capiche?”

  Mary had no clue what “capiche” meant, but she understood the rest of his rant quite well. So she closed her eyes and hoped against hope that there was someone nearby with a noble heart and a heroic streak. Some kind person that could end the madness.

  Of course, there wasn’t. But Xavier gagged and then slumped over dead all the same. The glass shard he had used to threaten Mary now protruded from the man’s throat and blood spurted into the car, quickly pooling on the floor amongst a pile of spilled french fries and a half-eaten pouch of Big League Chew.

  Marquell Washington shoved the body aside and pulled Mary out by her feet. Then he retrieved the pouch of gum and put the rest in his mouth. Happily, it was grape – his favorite flavor.

  Like Xavier, Marquell had made some assumptions, and had been proven correct. Primarily he had guessed that Xavier would return to the area and would let his guard down in favor of more immediate urges. It was elementary for Marquell in some regards. After all, the gang virtuoso had used his Doctorate-level comprehension of the criminal mind to rule the streets, and ultimately the very prison he had ended up in.

  Marquell untied Mary and then took Xavier’s hat, placing it upon his own mound of matted dreadlocks in a symbolic act of victory. Years earlier, Marquell had successfully sued the Illinois Department of Corrections for the right to keep those very locks under a religious exemption to the department’s grooming regulations. It had been a test case for Marquell and a chance to get his toes wet in the world of lawfare.