Kill Zombies (Leopard King Saga)

by T. A. Uner

  ***

  Holbourne’s hands weren’t shaking anymore. For some reason his piss break had relaxed them. He held the strange rifle in his hands and felt its cold alloy. Malcolm had told him that the rifle contained unimaginable power; he was impressed, for it was as light as a branch. The anomaly kept getting larger before his eyes. He tried closing them but forced himself to look; he wanted to face what awaited him before he met his fate, whatever it was. If it was the end he would face it. He had made his choices and they had brought him here: to Earth of Malcolm’s reality, a world that smelled of rotting vegetation and water resembling spilled ink. He stood guard as Malcolm and Giselle went back into the swamp house to get “helpful supplies,” whatever that meant. What could curtail the evil that was coming for them? That was coming for everyone in the remnants of this world. He thought about his wife and daughter. Then, his past returned to remind him of his sins.

  He had spent weeks working strange hours, watching Longface and Mister Serious return to his laboratory and pour the red liquid into the Millies. Soon he and the other members of his team developed a “Myron” model. Longface was overjoyed at this second model and soon Serious was busy helping him will his tasks. Before his eyes he watched as countless Male and Female androids began rising and hissing like Vampires. “I never recalled designing a Myron-type android,” Holbourne had once said.

  “The realities are shifting, Doctor,” Longface had replied. “You did in some realties, in others, you didn’t, but I will work with whatever I have at my disposal.”

  Holbourne kept drinking. More and more. He prayed he’d hit someone, kill someone so the bobbies would haul his sinful Vampire-helping arse to prison. But it never happened. He did however learn from Longface that he was responsible for countless hit-and-run traffic deaths across millions of realities.

  Holbourne bought a gun, something quite difficult to do in England, but he managed it. He tried killing himself but couldn’t, he’d come back and there was Longface and Serious. Pouring the fucking red liquid into the androids’ bodies. Turning the Millies and Myrons—built to save lives—into Vampire clones, designed for their evil purpose.

  One day Holbourne woke up from his bed to see his wife, Bea, crying next to him. “What is it, love?” She had murmured something about a disease and told him to turn on the telly. When he did he nearly pissed himself. Apparently some “Outbreak” had engulfed MI6 headquarters. The entire building had been quarantined. It’s begun, he thought.

  His daughter had come home crying. The kids in her classes were talking about diseased Zombies that had engulfed the MI6 building. Killing or infecting anyone they could find inside. When he heard that he did piss himself.

  He decided to take his family overseas. They took the Eurostar to Brussels so he could get skunk

  drunk on Belgian ales and his daughter could see the Manneken Pis statue. They boarded the Eurostar again and went to Amsterdam so his wife could visit the Van Gough museum. But it was happening here too.

  In England the Zombies had broken out of MI6 and were on the streets: eating, killing, infecting whatever life they could find. Soon even Zombie Rats were appearing, it was on every channel in Holland.

  Holbourne took his family further east. To Prague in the Czech Republic. There he drank even more. Then to Budapest. Even Hungarian beer couldn’t get him drunk anymore. He and his family continued their mindless quest. To where, he never knew. They went to the Acropolis in Greece, which was located outside Athens, or was it inside? He didn’t know. Realities kept shifting. Everywhere he went he saw Longface and Serious. Sometimes they were the bartenders who served him, sometimes taxi drivers. Once he tried to cut his wrists in the shower with a razor but he came back, another reality.

  “Fucking Vampire wankers!” He’d always say.

  Then onto Istanbul. Or was it Constantinople? Depended on which reality you were in. The Turks there would serve him wonderful strong coffee, sometimes tea. In some realities it was tasty, in others it smelled like urine. He soon lost track.

  Then one morning his wife disappeared. He asked his daughter where her mother was. “Mummy died three years ago Dad,” she had said. “Are you alright?” Her face was angelic, then it turned into Longface’s and then Mister Serious’s. In another reality his wife had returned, and then his daughter was gone.

  He managed to make it to Nepal; to Mount Everest. In one reality he tried climbing it and fell to his death. In another he made it to the summit but he was surrounded by Zombies—or were they Death Walkers?

  He found forests to hide in but that didn’t help. He always saw images of Longface and Serious. Serious and Longface. Pouring red liquid, drinking red liquid. “Tastes good…good,” Serious would always tell him.

  Then. One day. He was completely alone. Plunged in total darkness. It felt like he was sitting in space, but with no stars. Next it felt like he was sitting in a cave. It was cold. Then it turned all white. Then he saw a man with a long staff in his hand approach him. The man appeared out of nowhere. He had a long beard and wore a layered robe. Was he in heaven? No. It couldn’t be. Not after what he had done.

  “Who are you?” he asked. The man looked at him and shook his head. The staff’s head started glowing; Holbourne could’ve sworn it resembled a planet carved into it. In the center of the planet was a compass-like emblem. “Richard, my name is Archon.”

  “Archon? From Giselle’s reality?”

  Archon nodded. “Now from your reality as well.” Holbourne wanted to piss himself, but decided against it. It was starting to become a nasty habit.

  “What do you want? Can’t you see what I’ve done?” Archon nodded. “Richard, I see everything, that’s my job. But you have one last thing to do, before you can make everything right, again.”

  Holbourne exhaled. He rubbed his eyes to see if this was all a dream. He hoped he’d wake up in his bed next to his wife’s warm body. But he wasn’t that lucky. “I want to make things right.”

  Archon hummed a tune. It sounded alien to Holbourne’s ears, but anything would in this place. It’s not like the great man was gonna sing him a tune from Tom Jones or Coldplay. “Go back to your life now, make things right.”

  I will.

  He stared up at the anomaly. It kept getting longer, but not wider. He thought he saw a rotting hand slither out of it before disappearing. Then a leg, part of an ankle. Then a head with hair, two

  dopey, pus-filled eyes. He started breathing slowly, first through his chest, then through his nose, then, through his stomach. He didn’t know how but somehow he had learned. “Ok, you wanker-fucks, come at me. I’m ready.”

  ***

  Giselle watched as Reptilius pulled out various cases from his bedroom closet. One was extremely long and to Giselle it resembled a black tripod case. “What is that?” she asked.

  Reptilius was inspecting the items inside. They looked like a tripod, but she had a feeling they weren’t. “Protection,” he replied.

  She didn’t know what ‘Protection’ meant. And she knew sure as shit he wasn’t talking about rubbers. After looking satisfied with what he was trying to accomplish he zipped up the case and took her hand. It reminded her of how her father used to take her to school and walk her inside the main building. She’d cry when he told her that he’d have to leave, but inside she knew he’d be with her. When she had gone to Atlas, Archon had tried to be a father to her, but it wasn’t the same. At most he could be her uncle, or distant uncle for that matter. She thought about her training back on that desolate world, with four moons that all looked like Saturn. “Mini Saturns” she had dubbed them. One day archon took her to all four moons and showed her how each one used to provide support for Atlas’ distant colonies. She tried remembering what each moon represented: Food & Water, Technology, Textiles, and, Entertainment. The entertainment was her favorite, but Archon wasn’t too fond of it.

  Was her time in Reptilius’ world part of her training? Archon had told her once that she woul
d be sent on various ‘experience-tasks,’ whatever that meant. Maybe this was one of those, and if she passed then she would become a Timekeeper or, one step closer to becoming a Timekeeper. Reptilius led her outside and the warmth of his world was welcoming. It soothed her cold Vampire heart, the one The Sect had cloned for her. She had hated Vampires, especially after what they’d done to her: take her from her family, place her in an alien body, and curse her with strange abilities. Archon had changed her mind set and for that she was grateful. Every day it seemed like the endless lectures she had been subjected to were starting to make sense; becoming part of her. Holbourne was standing directly across from the anomaly. It now reached the surface of the pond. It wasn’t getting wider but it had gotten longer. She saw body parts appear and retract from the opening. In a messed up way it looked like an electric vagina. “Do you see’im, love?” Holbourne said. He looked ready. He’d taken off his labcoat and stripped off his dress shirt, revealing a damp white undershirt. His pants’ cuffs, or “trousers” as the English called them, were rolled up and mud-stained. He still had his leather shoes on. She figured it was an English thing.

  “I guess,” she looked at Sawtooth, “you ready boy?” The croc replied in his own reptilian dialogue and she laughed. God, how it felt good to laugh.

  “One last thing to do,” Reptilius said. He handed each one of the tripods to Giselle and Holbourne.

  “What we supposed to do with these, Malcolm?” Holbourne asked.

  “Plant them in a triangular pattern so that when the time is right we’ll be protected. It’s an energy shield, good enough for two hours maximum. Or was it four? But as long as it’s up it will prevent the Death Walkers from getting through to us, I hope so at least.”

  Holbourne shot him a quick glance and shook his head. Giselle watched as he planted his tripod at the edge of the pond’s shoreline. When all three tripods were in place, Reptilius pressed a small button on a black wristband console that was attached to his arm. Giselle had never noticed it before. It looked cool, and reminded her of a similar device the hunter alien wore in that sci-fi movie Predator. She hoped the shield would hold.

  One by one, strange nodules appeared atop the center column of each tripod. They all made a low clicking sound as if calibrating, before a green field formed around them. At first it looked like a giant spiderweb before it solidified into a half bubble.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. She noticed that Sawtooth was still outside the bubble. “What about him?” she asked. “Isn’t he your best friend?”

  “Yeah what about your scaly bugger?” Holbourne chimed in. “He’ll be an open target for

  those undead wankers.”

  Reptilius grinned beneath his helm. It was becoming habit, almost. He hadn’t smiled this much since he was still called Malcolm. “He’ll be fine Giselle…Doctor. Sawtooth’s mutated skin is much stronger than a regular crocodile’s. Giselle hoped so, she had grown attached to Sawtooth, it was strange, but even a cold-blooded creature could get under your skin with enough self-encouragement. Reptilius passed through the bubble – Giselle thought it looked weird how he moved through it like a ghost, and headed back to his home. He returned with more cases and began assembling something he called a “22nd century Ballista.”

  When he was done building the weapon the anomaly had penetrated the pond like an electric stake, causing the water to glow as if it had underwater pool lights. Bubbles foamed and sizzled. “Can we still fire through this thing, Malcolm?” Holbourne asked.

  “That’s the idea doctor, we can hit them, but they can’t hit us.”

  Holbourne nodded, apparently satisfied by Reptilius’ answer.

  “When we’re done with these Death Walkers, we’ve got one more thing to do, Giselle.”She looked at him; the fear in her eyes had turned to resilience. “Yes?”

  “The brothers, at the trading post, they’re in league with the Vampires. Doctor, looks like we’ve got some Vampire collaborators here.”

  “Mate, collaborators have been around since the dawn of time, and they’ll be around long after we’re gone.” He looked at the weapon Reptilius had built. “What in God’s name is that?”

  “It looks like a Gatling Gun,” Giselle said. “I watched a movie on it in my History class. My teacher, Mr. Gill, said they were used against the American Indians in the 19th century.”

  “In my reality the Indians were also killed off in the 19th century: by alcohol, cocaine and gambling. But to answer everyone’s question this is an arrow launcher—used to repulse Raptors.”

  “Raptors? Does it work?” Holbourne asked.

  Reptilius shrugged and said, “This is gonna be its first field test, doctor.”

  “Bloody fucking yay.” Holbourne shook his head. “Great!”

  The anomaly started chirping, like a billion crickets in one chorus. Two Death Walkers emerged, they were dressed like policemen, but looking closely at them Reptilius noticed they looked like doormen. A stealth-screen dematerialized on top of Sawtooth’s back and everyone stared in disbelief at the cannon-like weapon loaded onto the croc’s back. It fired at the two Death Walkers who were vaporized instantly.

  “Bloody fucking yay,” Holbourne repeated. “How’d he do that, Malcolm?”

  “The Repulser is configured to fire at any creature that comes out of the anomaly, Doctor. I suggest we all prepare for our next guests.” Reptilius pressed a button on his wristband console.

  “I’ve just summoned the cavalry, Giselle.”

  She looked at him and nodded.

  He hoped the beacons would work and lure the Raptors to this soon-to-be Swamp War. But for now they all waited.

  The next batch of Death Walkers appeared. These were a hodge-podge of both male and female. Reptilius could hear their war cries, some wore wifebeaters over torn jeans, and others were dressed like businessmen. Some were teens, or children and it pained him to have to fire on them. Then more and more Death Walkers appeared, the anomaly’s slit did not widen but the Walkers came. Sawtooth’s Repulser got busy again while Holbourne and Giselle took pop shots at the oncoming Wave.

  They kept coming, like a drove of cattle crossing a pasture. Some of the Walkers were Caucasian, some Black, others were Asian or Middle Eastern; some…well, Reptilius figured they were a mix.

  A few Walkers actually made it to the bubble and started clawing at it. Holbourne stopped firing for a moment and started laughing when a group of Walkers tripped over one of the children and bounced off the bubble. Static charges ringed around the unfortunate group and electrocuted them.

  “Less laughter, more firing, Doctor!” Reptilius said.

  Giselle was showing proficiency with her rifle, this impressed Reptilius, who had had trouble learning the basics long ago, when he was still Malcolm Hendricks. He attributed her advanced learning curve to her Vampire body.

  A two-headed Death Walker made its way toward the bubble. Sawtooth’s Repulser changed setting and produced a spitfire of violet sparks. Holbourne and Giselle watched as the sparks passed through the Death Walker like acid rivulets through a mound of dough. Its two heads exploded, body parts bouncing against the bubble.

  Giselle was actually relaxed. She didn’t know why, but she was talking pleasure at destroying the Zombie soldiers deployed by the same creatures that had converted her. This is how I’ll pay them back, she thought. The left flank of Zombies tried to get around the bubble but it kept them bottled up near the anomaly’s opening. Expanding and contracting, as if it had a mind of its own. Giselle figured the tripod-thingees had something to do with it. Even though her senses and thinking were improved by her cloned Vampire body, she was still a twentieth century Caucasian girl at heart and knew that she’d be lost in this century without Rept.

  She watched Holbourne go at it with his rifle. Blue waves of rope exploding from his rifle weapon. He’d torn off a section of his white undershirt and tied it around his head. She squelched a giggle; it made the Englishman look like Sylvester Stal
lone in those Rambo movies. Another flank of Zombies, this time the right flank came at the bubble. Holbourne sat on his ass and lit a cigarette, smoking it while the bubble was kept them at bay.

  “Doctor!” Reptilius said. “Don’t get too cocky!”

  The Englishman flicked his cigarette butt at one of the Zombies. It passed through the

  sphere before landing inside one of its empty eye sockets and started smoking. Holbourne fired a volley, the Zombie and its nearby companions disintegrated.

  Giselle turned her head. Two Zombies had gotten past the bubble – she didn’t know how, and were headed directly for Sawtooth. The croc snarled and his Repulser blew one Zombie apart with a white particle beam. The second Zombie, either too stupid or too dedicated to its mission – Giselle couldn’t tell which, attacked Sawtooth head on. The croc swung his tail in a 180 degree arc and tripped up the undead lackey. Then, before the Zombie could rise, Sawtooth tore its head off and spat it out like a cannonball. It disappeared into the anomaly. The torso wiggled for a few moments, then, was still. With a quick burst of speed Sawtooth, made a strategic withdrawal to higher ground and entrenched himself for his next defense.

  They kept coming. Sometimes en masse and sometime in smaller bunches. But they came. She wondered why she hadn’t died of thirst, and then remembered her new body probably didn’t need water or any nourishment for that matter, except blood; and it was daylight, why wasn’t she crumbling into tiny pieces? She heard some shrieking and saw a blue reptilian creature with yellow markings approach the bubble’s rearguard. Giselle figured it was probably smarter than a Zombie – but not by much, since it reared backwards when it saw the bubble’s lime tint color. It sniffed at it like a dog then headed straight for the Zombies.