Mind Over Monsters

by Jennifer Harlow

  Oliver is oblivious to my plight. He’s busy with the veritable wall of walking dead surrounding us. The moment he knocks one into a tree or tombstone, another seems to take its place in the line, like a zombie Pez dispenser. Two of them—one a man and the other of unidentifiable gender—grab Oliver, but he pushes them away. Another seizes my arm and tries to bite, but I kick it away. My martial arts trainer would be so proud. His girlfriend behind me grabs the other arm and chomps down on it. I scream. The gun in the other hand reaches her forehead and a second later, her head is nothing but puzzle pieces. Enough of this.

  Then something I’ve never felt takes control. My body turns warm then hot in an instant, like someone’s switched on my boiler. My breath becomes ragged and then stops. The breeze stops moving and everything but the dozen undead figures surrounding us turn black. There are no screams, no moans, no Oliver. The air moves toward me, inside me, through every pore of my body. It feels like two hands squeezing either side of my brain, but it doesn’t hurt for once. I don’t know what’s happening to me … but I like it. I close my eyes and feel the blood trickle out of my nose. I release. Power explodes out of me like a fiery gust of wind in a hurricane. It knocks me on my back. Several daggers plunge into my brain. I cry out, clutching my head. Oh God, now it hurts! Stop! Hands grab my shoulders.

  “Trixie!” I hear a familiar voice shouting. I know that voice … who … “Open your eyes!” I do. It’s blurry at first, but I blink until I see Oliver kneeling beside me. God, he’s good-looking when he’s worried. “My dear, can you speak?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Can you walk?”

  Without letting me answer, he hoists me up by the arms, my injured one throbbing. When I’m up, the sight before me draws a gasp. Oh … my … lord. There’s nothing left but the kind of destruction I see on TV after a tornado. Trees lie on their sides, tangled roots above ground. Every headstone within forty feet rests on its side, a few older ones are now nothing but pebbles and dust. The zombie horde is literally nothing but pieces. Twitching legs, arms, and jaws still trying to make their way toward us litter the grass. Every piece bigger than a foot still tries to continue its mission, but I doubt any of them is a threat to us now. A few fresher corpses remain intact but shuffle far in the distance.

  “Did I … ”

  “Remind me never to anger you,” Oliver says, serious as death.

  “I don’t—”

  “We must get to the car.” He hands me my gun. “Are you able to walk?”

  “I think so.” My head throbs and I feel nauseated, but I sure as heck don’t want to stay here. I take a few steps and sure enough, I’m walking though my head throbs with each step. A hand grabs my ankle, but I kick it away. I really much prefer zombies without teeth. This is much better. Nice stroll through the body parts. Seems I’ve either destroyed or scared away all our attackers. Goody for me.

  I spoke too soon. Several feet away, three zombies kneel on the ground surrounding something. Their faces are streaked red with what looks like ketchup but isn’t. A leg dressed in a blue pinstripe pant leg pokes out of their feeding circle. The zombie in a white dress now soaked red with blood raises a hunk of bleeding meat to her mouth and bites down. The vomit rises, but I force it back down.

  “Trixie, we do not have time for this,” Oliver says.

  “That’s Konrad, isn’t it?”

  He lightly puts his hand on my good arm. “We need to keep moving.” He tugs on the arm, and I start walking. “Avert your eyes, my dear.” One of the zombies looks up from his feast and bears his teeth like a rabid dog. I raise my gun and shoot its jaw off. It falls onto its back from the force. I shoot the other two the same way and send all three into the air. Konrad looks exactly like Davis and Valerie—just meat, bones, and gristle.

  “He didn’t deserve this.”

  “No, he did not. But if we do not keep moving, we will join him.”

  Suddenly, coming from what seems like every direction, a howl echoes. For the second time tonight, Oliver looks frightened. If it’s bad enough to scare a vampire …

  “Was that … ”

  “Now I insist we depart.” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me away from Konrad and drags me to the car at a run. You ever try to keep up with something that moves faster than human perception? I don’t recommend it. The roadrunner would be put to shame. We maneuver around a few stray zombies who turn to follow us. I look back at them staggering slowly toward our fast-moving bodies, some dropping body parts and skin on the grass but never stopping. They won’t stop until they’re destroyed. I can’t look anymore. Within thirty seconds, we’re at the car. I officially have no breath left, and my head is filled with the entire rhythm section of a conga band when we get here, but at least now we’re safe. I pull on the passenger side door handle but the door doesn’t open. There’s another howl in the distance. I frantically pull a few more times.

  “Stop it,” Oliver says, getting into the driver’s seat. I let go of the handle, and he clicks the lock. The door opens. That’s me, cool in a crisis. I swear I—

  Something grabs my leg, biting my calf right above the Achilles tendon. I scream in pain. Oliver grabs my arm and pulls all but a bite-sized chunk of me in the car. Before the door even shuts, he backs up, hitting what feels like a speed bump. My biter lies on the pavement, half its body squished by an SUV. Ha! Oliver backs up all the way to the interstate without bothering to turn the car around. All I see is darkness, but we make it safely to the main road before spinning the car around and stopping. I’m so relieved, I fight the urge to cry.

  “I do not see any of them following.” He glances at me. “You are bleeding. There should be a first-aid kit under your seat.”

  There is. I take the aspirin first then start on my arm. I only realize how much it freaking hurts when I look at it. Oliver turns down another two-lane road. The teeth marks on my arm go deep. I don’t want to see the others. I look up after disinfecting and bandaging the swollen area and recognize the gas station we pass. We’re going toward mobile command. “Are we going to command? Shouldn’t we wait for the others at the cemetery?”

  “You are in need of medical attention. The others are on their way. They can—”

  “Will is still out there! All alone!”

  Oliver looks at me. “Believe me, Will does not need our assistance at present. You, however—”

  “Look out!”

  Too late. The person who just stepped in front of our huge SUV smashes into the front, the top half of his body folding onto our hood, then falling under the carriage. We hit another human speed bump. Oliver slams on the breaks, and the car comes to a skidding stop. We sit in stunned silence for a moment. He looks out the rearview mirror.

  “Oh my lord,” I finally choke out, “we just killed somebody!”

  “Be quiet, we did not,” he says, calm as can be.

  “But—”

  “Turn around and look.”

  I do. The man, who should be road kill and looks it, stands on his one attached leg. “Oh thank God, he’s already dead. How did it get all the way out here?”

  “I have no idea, but this is not good. They are not confined to the graveyard.”

  “The town’s only half a mile from the cemetery. We need to get there! Now!”

  “No, I need to get you to mobile command per protocol. You are weak and in need of—”

  “For Christ’s sake! I am not some china doll and I’m tired of people treating me like one! I am fine! This is me, fine. And we do not have time to debate this! They will kill people! We have a job to do, so turn this … effing car around and let’s stop them!”

  He stares at me with no expression, but that smirk soon resurfaces. “Whatever you say, my dear. All you had to do was ask.” He puts the car in reverse and hits the standing zombie again. The car shimmies on impact. That can’t be good for the alignment. We’re on the interstate within seconds. “You better call this in,” Oliver says. “We are going to need help
.”

  I pull out my cell and press redial. “Chandler.”

  “It’s Bea. Where are you?”

  “Seconds away from the graveyard.”

  “Look, it’s possible some of the zombies have gotten out of the cemetery. There’s at least one we know of. Oliver and I are headed toward town in case they make it that far.”

  “How many are in the graveyard now?”

  “A lot, a whole lot. And Will’s changed.”

  “Understood.”

  “We’ll head off the ones going to town, just concentrate on the cemetery.”

  “Call if you need assistance.” He hangs up.

  “I hope they have better luck than we did.”

  “They will be just fine.”

  This is not going to be good. I can feel it. I push out the clip release on my gun and check the ammo. Almost empty. I put in the extra clip and get another from Will’s gun from my pocket. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “You turn them into airplanes if they come near a civilian, or shoot them. Your choice.”

  “I’m allowed to use my power in front of people?”

  “If they are being attacked by decaying corpses, I would say the supernatural jig is up. Protect them anyway you can, and we will deal with the consequences later.” He glances out the window at the forest and the car comes to a screeching halt. “Gun, please,” he says rolling down the window. I hand it to him and cover my ears. He shoots at an old man with yellow sagging skin twice, taking out the man’s legs, then hands me back the gun. “Are we keeping score? Make a note about that one.” And we speed away.

  NINE

  A MACHETE IS A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

  With no more zombie interruptions, we reach the town’s limits within the minute. There are only a few people on the streets, since most of the shops closed at six. The only lights come from streetlights and the glowing marquee at the Apache Theater. The Stone Diner is still open, but few people are outside. The desolation is good. Fewer walking meals.

  Oliver doesn’t so much park the car as bring it to a skidding stop in the middle of the two-lane road, creating a makeshift roadblock. I doubt there will be much traffic, but the few people who drive by will think twice when they see the car. The people out and about stop to look at us and seem confused. I jump out of the car. “Everyone get inside now,” I shout. Nobody moves. A gunshot echoes through the silence. Immediately fear replaces confusion and they run in the opposite direction, practically trampling over each other to get inside. I turn to Oliver just as he replaces his gun in its holster. Wish I had thought of that.

  Only one person remains on the street. She continues shuffling down the sidewalk, oblivious to her surroundings and dragging her left foot. Oliver starts toward her but holds up his hand to stop me from following. As quick as lightning, he’s by the woman’s side, grabbing her head and twisting it off like a doll’s head. A gasp escapes me. I watch with a dropped jaw as he tosses the head on the ground, but the body continues walking as if nothing happened. Without eyes, the zombie doesn’t see when Oliver leans down to yank her ankles out from under her. With another quick tug, the legs come off. She must be a few years dead because only particles of dust scatter around them. Gross. Oliver drops the legs, and when I blink, he’s inches from me. “She will not be a problem.” She’s still a crawling torso with arms but can do limited harm.

  “You could have checked to see if she was one before you ripped her head off!”

  “She stank of death.”

  “She could have just been old!”

  Sirens and flashing lights from down the street put a halt to our bickering, as police cruisers barrel toward us. Took them long enough. I collect my purse from the floor of the car and pull out my badge, holding it up for the officers to see. Their cars stop a few feet away from us. The deputies jump out, standing behind their doors with guns pointed at us. I recognize a few from this morning.

  “Put your hands in the air,” the deputy directly across from me says.

  “Special Agent Beatrice Alexander, FBI!” I shout. “This here is Special Agent Oliver Montrose. Please holster your pistols immediately!”

  Like good boys, they take one look at the badge and put the guns away. “We had several reports of gunfire. What’s going on here?”

  “Ah … ” plausible lie, plausible lie, “we have reason to believe that some violent felons we’ve been pursuing are on their way to town.”

  “Why weren’t we notified?”

  “We are better trained to handle this situation than you,” Oliver says. “In fact, your presence is a hindrance, so if you do not mind … ” He nods up the street. “We can handle this.”

  “Oh man, what is that?” another deputy says, pointing at the crawling zombie. All the men look, grimace, and turn back to us. Oops, busted. The guns reappear.

  “There is a totally logical explanation for that,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Put your damn hands in the air!” The head deputy points his gun at Oliver, who isn’t fazed in the least. My arms, meanwhile, are up as high as they can go.

  “You are annoying me,” Oliver says. “Point that pistol away now or—” We don’t hear the rest. I blink, and Oliver is beside the stunned deputy yanking the gun out of his hand and pointing it at me. “Duck!”

  I squat down as the gun fires. Behind me, an incoming zombie’s jaw splinters into dust. Nobody moves except the zombie—who keeps moving. In my squatting position, the only thing for me to do is sweep its feet out from under it, so that’s what I do. Its head lands right next to me, but I jump away toward a stunned deputy as it snaps at me.

  “Thanks,” I say to Oliver.

  He nods. “Gentlemen,” Oliver says, giving the gun back, “now would be a good time to fire.”

  The zombie gets to its knees. “Is that a … ”

  It’s on its feet. “Zombie, yes! So shoot it!” I shout.

  A barrage of bullets hit the woman, cutting off her legs, neck, and arms. I cover my ears with little effect. They stop firing after three seconds and fifty bullets. Overkill much? Still holding their guns, the men stare at the twitching thing with mouths open big enough for a train to pass through. A few lower their guns when they realize it isn’t getting up again.

  “Is it dead?” one of the men asks.

  “That was not its problem,” Oliver says. “I do not think it will be getting up again, though.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” the lead deputy asks.

  “Your town is about to be overrun with the walking dead,” Oliver says. His eyes leave the frightened deputy and move back behind the car. “And I am afraid it will be sooner rather than later.”

  All eyes follow his and bug out when they take in the scene. I count twelve—no, make that thirteen as another comes around the corner. They’re spread out along the street and sidewalks, but all shuffle toward us. Another near-skeleton pops out from around the corner. The deputies just gawk at the advancing horde. One of the nearest, a child dressed in a dirty white communion dress, approaches her fallen comrade and steps on what is left of his leg.

  “Jenny Cabot?” one of the men asks.

  “Shoot it,” Oliver says.

  “But it’s Jenny. My sister babysat her!”

  She takes another step, arms outstretched toward Oliver, baring her brown teeth. I lift her with my mind, sending her toward the two closest zombies like a missile, temporarily knocking all three down. Not that it does much good; three more step out in their place. The men all glance at each other like a flying zombie is the strangest thing they’ve ever seen. Oh, boys, the night is young.

  Three more zombies reach the car. “Guys, why are you not shooting?” I shout as I pull out my gun and take aim. The gun jolts as I shoot the nearest one, exploding the yellowish skin around its jaw. Another barrage of gunshots ring out and the closest zombies jerk from the multiple bullets hitting them all over. They’re stunned but none fall down. The men missed all the sweet spots by hitting onl
y the chests. Three more zombies make it to the car with two others close behind. To make matters worse, the officers need to reload. Stupidly, I watch them, giving the jawless one the opportunity to grab my arm and squeeze until I cry out. Oliver cold-cocks him, and it lets go. “Pay attention, my dear.” Another zombie lunging at a deputy becomes airborne as if spring-loaded and smashes through the hardware store window. I wink at my partner.

  Of course, just as the corpse’s feet leave the ground, people begin exiting the movie theater, stopping dead as the shards of the window fly. Go see a scary movie and end up in one of your own, that’s gotta stink. Like all normal people greeted by the rotting dead, the moviegoers just stand there like deer in the headlights while the zombies continue to approach. More patrons filter out, looking just as confused as their friends.

  “Limbs and jaws,” I shout to the men over my own gunshot. I pull the trigger again but only get a click. The men aim and splinter arms and legs, but for one middle-aged deputy in glasses, it is too late. A man with no eyes bites his outstretched arm. The deputy lets out a high-pitched scream I thought only six-year-olds were capable of. The zombie rips out a huge chunk of flesh as blood pours out of the wound.

  Some of our audience join the deputy in his screams but none run away. Shock is better than Super Glue. Another deputy shoots the bloody zombie attacking his friend. Yet another pushes the injured man into the nearest squad car and shuts him in. A woman’s shriek draws my attention. One of the secretaries from the school frantically swats at an almost skeletal zombie that grabs at her flapping wrist. It flies ten feet away, smashing into a dozen pieces on impact. I’m getting better at this.

  The zombies have made it through our line. About half a dozen were smart enough to go around us and get to the scared-stiff

  civilians. Second problem: more keep popping out of the trees and around the corner. The town just had to be built downhill from a cemetery. There are too many to shoot or move with my mind. The men, finally getting their wits about them, start shooting the arms, legs, and heads of any zombie a few feet from them. Oliver swings at anything that moves, punching holes in their bodies as if they were made of dough. Even a few moviegoers start kicking and punching their undead assailants while others run away. Unfortunately, the commotion has brought anybody within a quarter mile radius out of their closed shops. I can’t tell how many people are screaming or shooting right now.