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

by Richard Johnson

  Vlad tilted his head in confusion and pulled the knife away slightly. They were close to obtaining desperately needed transportation, by hook or crook, and the nun was about to ruin it. He put the knife back. “She doesn’t speak for me. Keys, battery, gas. Where are they?”

  Charlie shook off his selfish haze and came to his senses. “She’s right, Vlad. We are better than this. Put the knife down and we’ll be on our way.”

  Vlad’s arm trembled in anger for a few long moments and then he backed away in disgust. The disturbing and ridiculous confrontation was over. After a few choice parting words, the gang retreated from the compound and went on their way down the gravel road while battling sore feet, fatigue, thirst and anger.

  Nobody spoke for a few minutes until Smokey broke the ice. “That guy needs a checkup from the neck up. Crazy douche.”

  “I’d like to take a crack at his girlfriend though,” Left-Nut said and looked off into space, undoubtedly forming some sort of lurid fantasy in his depraved mind. “She was a cutie. Nice boobs. Firm pooper.”

  “Would you stop talking about that damned blow-up doll?” Smokey said.

  “It’s not a blow-up doll, it’s a finely handcrafted work of art. That you put your dick in.”

  Charlie halted in his tracks. “You know, Left-Nut and Vlad, we better get on the same page about…” he stopped midsentence, closing his eyes. “And I just shit my pants.”

  * * *

  The lake was right where the crazy bastard had said it would be and the group reached it within an hour. But the water didn’t look anywhere near potable. It was covered with moss and algae and had a definite green tint to it.

  “Lots of critters in that soup,” Rob said. “I wouldn’t drink it.”

  “No problem. We just start a small fire and boil it first,” Sam said, eager to add his Boy Scout skills to the mix. “Katya, can we use your pot?”

  “Yes,” she answered clearly. It was amazing how quickly her voice was coming back, literally and figuratively.

  As they neared the water’s edge, Vlad and Smokey went to investigate an abandoned van parked nearby. From their reactions they had found something of note.

  “Gross as it is, I gotta get cleaned up,” Charlie said and headed for the water. “Katya, if you could get that going, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” she said and took the kindling Sam had gathered. Soon she had a small fire roaring and was eager to bring the discolored water to a boil. Like Sam, proving her usefulness was a high priority.

  Smokey and Vlad joined the others by the lake to show off their discovery while Sam jumped into the murky water and swam out, like any boy his age would do in a similar circumstance.

  Charlie was enjoying his swim as well. The thick water was warm and actually very soothing on his many bumps and bruises. After walking a while in soiled underwear, the value of getting clean could not be overstated.

  Smokey held out his hand. “Check it. Somebody’s picnic got interrupted and they left a few joints and sandwiches behind.”

  “And vodka,” Vlad added happily before tipping a clear bottle back.

  “The sandwiches were trash, of course, but these bad boys look just fine.” Smokey lit one up and took the first toke, hard. As in, almost the whole thing.

  Left-Nut grabbed it next and took a much smaller hit, coughing loudly. He turned to one of the Koreans standing guard nearby. “Hey, Donger, you want a hit?”

  Smokey frowned. “You mean Pong?”

  “That’s not his real name either,” Left-Nut said.

  Rob took the joint without asking and finished it off with relish. Then he turned philosophical. “I’m enjoying this for sure, but I do wonder what happened to whoever left it behind. I mean, did they get eaten by zombies or the slime monster from Creepshow Two?” He shivered while pointing to the water that Charlie and Sam were swimming in. “That movie gave me nightmares for months. No way I’d go in that nastiness.”

  “Feels pretty good to me,” Charlie said. “A little slimy, but overall not bad.”

  Vlad set the cheap handle of vodka down. “Enjoying your soak, eh? Would be better to be driving to destination.”

  “Just drop it,” Charlie said.

  But he wouldn’t drop it. “Should have killed that man and taken recreational vehicle. Could have been to base in less than one hour.”

  Smokey shook his head. “We aren’t killers. And you heard the guy, how could we have gotten the vehicles moving?”

  “Was bluffing. Is why Charlie not good leader like Vlad. You hesitate, you die. So does everyone depending on you. Act on instincts and survive.”

  Charlie gritted his teeth, fighting the strain of dehydration and his annoyance at what was becoming a recurring issue. Katya couldn’t finish boiling the water soon enough. “Listen, stop jamming me up, comrade.”

  “Again, not Russian. Besides, if Vlad jamming you up, Vlad jam you up so bad you have no room for peanut butter on your toast.”

  “I think we’re talking about different things, buddy.” Charlie turned to his friends. “It’s like Vidu all over again.”

  “No idea what that means,” the Bulgarian said. “Anyways… must go leave shit in woods. Vlad prairie-dogging.” He walked away.

  “God, that guy’s a dildo,” Charlie said quietly.

  Rob nodded. “Yup. It was your idea to bring him along though, remember? I’m the guy that wanted to beat his ass.”

  “I still think he can help us,” Charlie said as he waded to shore. “But if he keeps challenging me on every single thing, then—”

  “Ow,” Sam said loudly. “Ow!” he screamed a moment later, as he was pulled partially underwater.

  Charlie dove back into the murky drink as Sam flailed about in a panic, screaming that something was biting his foot. After swimming the twenty yards to reach him, Charlie grabbed the kid’s arms and pulled him towards the beach. As they reached the edge of the water it became evident what had attacked him since the creature was still firmly attached.

  “Snapping turtle!” Smokey exclaimed.

  Sam tried kicking it loose, but it wouldn’t budge. “Get it off, get it off!”

  Butt naked, Charlie grabbed a large rock and bashed the reptile’s head several times until it released its powerful grip. A few more knocks and the ugly beast was dead.

  Sam writhed in pain. His foot was pretty chewed up, but he still had all his toes. “Ow. I must have stepped on it.”

  “I thought a zombie had you there for a second,” Charlie said, then realized he was standing naked in front of everyone. He covered himself with a shirt and looked to Katya with a smile. “Keep that water boiling because it looks like we’re gonna have turtle soup for dinner.”

  “Wow, that thing must weigh fifty pounds,” Smokey said as the Koreans came in with smiles, also excited to have meat on the menu for a change.

  “Yeah, it was a nasty sucker. I’m glad I found that rock right away. I’m surprised Rob hadn’t already bashed its…” Charlie looked around. “Hey, where is Rob?”

  The jovial giant had disappeared during the chaos. “I thought he went in the water to help Sam,” Smokey said and shrugged.

  That’s when Charlie’s eyes got big. “The dumbass can’t swim!”

  “Oh, fuck,” Smokey said as they all jumped into the lake in a hurry.

  Charlie took the lead. “Everyone form a line and spread out, he can’t be that far in.”

  A minute or two passed and there was no sign of him as Rob’s friends frantically scoured the waters. And then Ping raised his hand while shouting something unintelligible. Sure enough, they pulled Big Rob to the surface and then dragged him ashore with great effort.

  He was pale, his big lungs were full of water, and the rest of him was empty of life. Charlie tried in vain to administer CPR, but simply didn’t know what he was doing. Frustrated, he lashed out at Sam. “Dammit, why did you get in the water anyways?”

  “I just wanted to go swimming, like old ti
mes,” he said and hid his face.

  Katya clutched the crying child to her chest. “Now’s not the time!”

  Charlie ignored her and tried mouth to mouth again before doing some half-assed chest compressions. The others stood around in shock. Nothing worked. Precious time passed and it became painfully clear. Viking Rob Magnusson, the man, the myth, was gone.

  Chapter 19: Prison Break

  Aedes albopictus, also known as the Asian tiger mosquito due to its distinctive striped pattern, had been an invasive species in Illinois for decades. In normal times the tiny creatures were plentiful, impossible to eradicate, and sometimes deadly. Now with legions of zombies to feed upon and countless pools of untreated water, the pest had become a plague of biblical scope. Sharpshooter Gus smacked one on his forehead a little too late, and then wiped the blood off his hand. “Gotcha,” he said and itched at the growing welt.

  The prison guard had continued manning the observation tower after the apocalypse much as he had before it, with shoot to kill orders and a hard-on to carry out those orders. But he had become a bit more vigilant since the night of Marquell’s escape. Gus claimed a pack of zombies had finished the gang leader off, and since nobody was able to prove otherwise, that was that.

  A cloud moved ever so slightly from its position blocking the moon, and Gus discovered that another invasive species, also from Asia, had come out that night. Only this one was even deadlier than the first. Nearby, Chinese troops began massing behind piles of rubble and battle-worn tanks. Even worse, through his high-powered binoculars, Gus could see mobile artillery rolling into place.

  It was time to get to work. The sharpshooter put half a tin of Redman chew into his mouth and set his AR-15 into firing position. Then he hit the buzzer and alerted the entire prison of the impending attack. They had known it was coming for days, and the prison occupants had prepared as best they could. But after seeing the forces arrayed against them, Gus already knew what the outcome would be. He put his headphones on, turned Garth Brooks up, and began blasting Chinese soldiers from five hundred yards.

  Inside the prison was a flurry of activity as the guards and their families took up fighting positions and dug in. Like the Alamo, all parties realized there would be no quarter given. Unlike the Alamo, where the defense was led by the likes of Davey Crockett and Jim Bowie, a gorgeous socialite with steel nerves and a rock-hard body commanded the prison garrison.

  Heather McCabe took to the intercom as mortars landed like tiny meteors all around the compound, blasting away at the structures and killing inhabitants by the handful. “Now is the time we’ve prepared for,” she said quietly, then cleared her throat before speaking in a more authoritative manner. “We’re ready. We survived the plague, we survived the riots, and we’ll survive this. It’s time to teach them a lesson they’ll never forget. This is our prison, and more importantly, this is our country! Now fight with all you have, and know I’ll be right here fighting with you.”

  A raucous cheer went up in all corners of Richard Daley Prison while two Chinese tanks rolled towards the outer fence, with scores of People’s Liberation Army Marines trailing behind. Heather rose from her office chair and sprinted into the hallway as more explosions went off and the lights flickered ominously. She could hear the tanks moving closer even from deep inside the complex. Time was short.

  Meanwhile, Gus’s targets were moving steadily closer to him and he was now able to potshot the soldiers much more rapidly. However, the pair of tanks had closed to within two hundred yards and would breach the perimeter within minutes. Then it would be game over. Not only that, but the explosive rounds were getting closer to the tower as the mortar teams zeroed in on his position.

  Gus stopped firing, spit, and grabbed his walkie-talkie. “Release the hounds,” he said, and then landed a spurting head shot on a crouching soldier.

  Another alarm sounded and the outer gates swung open. In an instant, hundreds of hungry cannibals that had been trapped between the outer and inner fences streamed towards the advancing Chinese. Most of them were immediately cut down by small arms fire, but a dozen plowed into the ranks of the attackers, creating a temporary moment of mayhem.

  But the zombies were just a distraction.

  BOOOOM!

  A disabled tractor-trailer stuffed with fertilizer and thousands of ball bearings blew up next to the tanks. The force of the mega-explosion sent body parts flying, knocked the treads off both tanks, and shook the entire prison.

  Iraq War veterans can come in handy if one ever needs to make I.E.Ds. Luckily the prison had several on staff that could take the homemade explosives apart and put them back together in their sleep. The Chinese military had failed to anticipate this capability, and their cannon fodder paid for it dearly.

  Next, several dozen defenders emerged from a safe house a block away in a surprise counter-offensive, making their way towards the self-propelled 155 mm howitzers parked half a mile away. If those bad boys went live, it would be all over but the crying.

  “Nice,” Gus said when he saw his own guys working quietly towards the target. Then he got back to his own task at hand as stray bullets raked the tower from several directions. More Garth Brooks, more killing.

  While the fighting picked up, Heather grabbed her beloved dog along with two heavy bags and began making her way through the prison in a hurry. She passed crying women and children along the way, and paused just long enough to tell them what they wanted to hear. Sadly, it was all bullshit.

  Heather opened a final door and walked outside to where a bright yellow Bell 204 helicopter was waiting for her on the basketball courts, gassed up, blades spinning, and ready for takeoff.

  The pilot named Jake, a grizzled vet, hopped out and tossed the dog inside before helping her with the luggage. He wasn’t happy, and shouted above the sound of the blades to let her know just that. “I told you we were already close to our weight limit, now you show up with all this shit?”

  The recreation building behind them burst into flames and the windows shattered, sending glass flying all about. “I don’t think we should be arguing about this right now!” Heather shouted back.

  “Do you want to crash two miles out because the damned helicopter is off balance? Pick one and toss the other.”

  “Fine,” she said and chucked a large green duffel bag to the ground. It clanged loudly and stopped right in place.

  As the two finished their bickering over maximum gross weight capacity, a garbage truck crashed through both outer fences and Chinese soldiers swiftly followed through the opening, demonstrating that they had some tricks of their own. Guards shot at them from the rooftops, but the sprinting soldiers quickly spread out and found hiding spots. Soon they were mounting effective counter fire and dropping the guards one by one.

  They pressed their advance, then noticed the smell of gasoline too late. The overgrown and parched grass ignited with the help of a Molotov cocktail, and many of the Chinese marines suffered horrible burns. But the flames died down soon enough and more troops kept pouring in.

  By this time Gus had already retreated to a rooftop farther back and continued to tear up the opposition with blistering and accurate shooting. When the helicopter rose up behind him and he was momentarily face to face with Heather, Gus was equal parts surprised and pissed. And so he did what any self-respecting merchant of death would do in a similar situation: he lit that sucker up.

  Jake was forced to pull back hard as AR-15 rounds peppered the windshield and effortlessly zipped through the back of the helicopter. The dog barked wildly as tracer fire followed close behind while they sped off, and it became clear both sides were shooting at them in earnest.

  Gus watched the chopper disappear into the night and swatted another mosquito as it landed on his nose. “Gotcha.” Then an artillery shell exploded on top of the roof and the talented sharpshooter was instantly obliterated, leaving behind nothing more than a stain and a funky smell. The thunder rolled as the firing continued.

&n
bsp; Initially the Chinese command had sought to use the prison as headquarters and didn’t want it destroyed. But when their artillery was threatened by a surprise counterattack from tactical shotgun-wielding prison guards, the decision was made to light the place up. And so they ground it to dust with barrage after barrage, knowing that each explosion would draw more of the infected to the area. But the zombies were incapable of strategy and trickery, and so were much more easily dealt with.

  Heather saw the heavy blasts in the prison and knew right away that the battle was over. So she turned around and focused on the empty black sky in front of her, striking the faces of those left behind from her thoughts. In their hour of need, she had left them to die. But above all, Heather was a survivor, and she just didn’t give a damn.

  “What was in the bag you threw out, anyways?” Jake asked as he adjusted several instruments on the panel.

  “You don’t want to know,” Heather said flatly. “Trust me.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me,” the pilot pressed.

  “Gold. Lots and lots of gold.”

  “And the one you kept?” Jake asked, his thick eyebrows furrowed in amazement.

  “Dog food.”

  Chapter 20: Graveyard

  Charlie put his clothes on and joined the others as they stood around on the beach. The only noise anyone could hear was the sound of weeping and the infrequent waves lapping at the sand.

  That was, until Vlad emerged from the woods with a quizzical look on his face. “What all that commotion? You trying to get zombie rave going?”

  Katya pointed to Rob’s motionless body. “There was an accident.”

  “Oh, fuck Vlad’s life. Can’t even drop log in woods without major calamity.”

  “He didn’t even scream for help or anything. He just… disappeared,” Smokey said amidst tears.

  Vlad shoved Smokey aside and dropped to the ground next to his old adversary. “This not way for warrior to die.” He placed his hands on Rob’s barrel chest, pushing forcefully and with speed as if he were beating him up in the process. “Come on, big chicken.” Pump, pump, pump. “Come on, big chicken!” Pump, pump, pump. He slapped Rob’s lifeless face multiple times. “COME ON BIG CHICKEN!”