Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  “He was a retarded zombie. That’s why they couldn’t kill him like anybody else.” Bobby said nervously.

  Fire Chief Esteban gave Colton a nervous look to the sheriff as if to subtly voice his concerns about the sanity of Colton’s friend. The sheriff rubbed his head as a headache was just starting to develop. It was a headache that only showed up when Bobby was around saying or doing something particularly idiotic. Colton was used to his friend’s particular brand of crazy, but at the rate Bobby was going, today would be a new high water mark in stupidity.

  He took a moment to massage the beginnings of the headache away and then responded, “Retarded zombie? First you start talking crazy about werewolves, now you’re talking zombies…retarded zombies at that. I’m calling B.J. and having her cancel your subscription to Netflix. All those horror movies are rotting your brain.”

  “I’m just saying that he wouldn’t die until they destroyed the brain. Plus he had retard strength, so that means retarded zombie.” Bobby said it with complete acceptance, and that’s what upset Colton the most.

  “We’re not having this conversation right now Bobby. I love you like a brother, but you need to stop talking for a little bit. Somebody is going to hear your bullshit, and lock you up in a padded cell for it.” Colton then turned to the fire marshal, “If you can keep an eye on the scene up here, I’ll go back down to the gas station and see if there are any survivors. Then we’ll call in mutual aid and let them come take care of this so you guys can get to the hospital. Let me just make sure there aren’t any others.”

  Esteban nodded and watched as Colton and Bobby wandered back down the street. By the time they turned down towards the gas station a thought was worming into his head. Esteban realized he was starting to get hungry. It was a hunger he’d never experienced before. He knew what he wanted, and strangely the thought didn’t horrify him. It seemed as natural as breathing, or enjoying a sunset. He put his foot on Tater’s back, and yanked the axe out of his head. He then surveyed the area. Most of his men were starting to get back up. Something about them seemed…unappetizing. It was as though some part way down deep told him they’d already passed their expiration date. Sure he could eat them, but why go after them when he knew where to find two that were still fresh.

  “Hey Max, are you hungry?” Esteban asked to the leg sticking out of the front window of the car.

  “I could go for a bite. Can somebody give me a hand? The gearshift is stuck in my side, and it itches like a son of a bitch.” Max said.

  “Rico, Mo, Peanut…give him a hand.” Esteban gave his men orders, and they carried them out.

  Max Gossage was impaled on the novelty gearshift. After a few minutes of pulling, the three firemen grabbed a tool for cutting their teammate out. Two minutes later Max was on his feet and walking around. Without his body pressing down on the gearshift, he barely noticed it. He would have completely ignored it except it was shaped to look like a bar beer tap handle, and for the first minute or two his buddies kept trying to pull it down like they were trying to pour themselves a glass.

  Max slapped one of his friend’s hands away, “Dammit Mo, stop touching it.”

  “Oh…all the white guys get to touch it, but let the black man touch it and you get all bent out of shape.” Mo teased.

  “Asshole.” Max laughed.

  Esteban shook his head, “Alright, we have options. We can go down there and take down Colton, and that nine-fingered fella, or we can go find ourselves some food that isn’t armed. I say we go down and prove once and for all that firemen can beat cops any day.”

  Mo nodded, “Yeah, I call dibs on Coonass.” When Esteban looked at him in confusion Mo continued, “The nine-fingered asshole…I banged his wife, and the asshole walked in on us and kicked my ass. I think it’s time for some payback.”

  Esteban shrugged, “Eat who you want. It’s a buffet. Now grab an axe or something because they’re armed.”

  The firemen took axes, crowbars, and Mo picked up the chainsaw. They began walking after their intended victims. But the time they reached the ambulance, the paramedics were standing up. Both men’s innards kept spilling onto the ground, and they had to keep gathering their intestines up like loose laundry.

  “Tommy? Man you look like shit.” Esteban laughed.

  “Yeah, but I feel pretty good. My feet stopped hurting.” Thomas Hack said even as he was trying to scoop up his spleen.

  Scooter Hobson shuffled past his fellow paramedic to get a closer look at Max. After a few moments, he gave the beer tap a pull. Max slapped his hands away, “What the fuck. Does everyone need to touch it?”

  Scooter teased, “Talk about false advertising. You got my hopes up. So what else do you do?”

  Max grinned, “Nothing, but Mo had a cigarette machine installed last week. Put five dollars in his hand. Then pull his dick and a pack of cigarettes will pop out his ass.”

  Mo gave Max a friendly punch in the arm, and then they all turned their attention toward the gas station. They walked quietly towards the sign that said cheapest gas in the city. Esteban took the lead. His men spread out to block the hole street as they approached. Bringing up the rear, Scooter Hobson and Thomas Hack were wobbling down the street holding their internal organs in both hands. Both men were trying to keep up, but every time they got moving too fast something fell off. Once it was a liver, once a kidney, and once Scooter’s heart fell on the ground. In an effort to pick it up, Scooter ended up dropping his small intestine, but when he tried to scoop up his small intestine his stomach fell and ruptured. Stomach acid ran down the street.

  “Fuck it!” Scooter snapped and just dropped everything and started walking. His entrails dragging behind him, slowing him down like a bloody anchor.

  “Dude…that’s just gross.” Thomas groaned.

  “I don’t care.” Scooter spat.

  “Well you aren’t getting back in the ambulance like that. I just washed it.”

  “And just how are you planning on getting back in the ambulance without getting blood on everything?”

  Thomas thought about it, and then grinned. “That gas station probably has duct tape. I’m gonna get in there eat, and then wrap myself up in enough duct tape that I don’t have to worry about it.”

  Scooter thought about it, and then bent down to pick everything back up, “Good plan…SHIT!”

  “What?”

  “Someone spit out their gum, and I got it stuck on my pancreas.” Scooter pulled at the piece of gum. It stretched, but didn’t come off the organ. Scooter dry-heaved as the gum stretched. Eventually he pulled it off and tossed it away with a flick of his finger, then shuddered, “Thank God. Why can’t people be careful with their gum…that was just disgusting.” Scooter bent over and resumed picking up his organs.

  The two paramedics shuffled after the firemen, but they couldn’t move at a pace anywhere near what the firemen could. It wasn’t long before the firemen were almost at the gas station. Thomas’ lower intestine fell down, and tangled itself in his legs until Thomas fell forward on his face.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What the hell?” Colton asked.

  The two men stood in front of the gas station. Deputies Redford and Pocky were both missing, and so were their police SUVs. If that wasn’t confusing enough, some of the other vehicles had driven off. The only evidence that anything was wrong was the empty wheelchair, the pitch black gas station that normally was open twenty-four hours a day, and the truck with its driver side door wide open and its radio playing Backstreet Boys “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” at earsplitting loudness. Colton moved to the gas station doors to see if he could check inside for any survivors.

  “I should have done this first.” Colton said as he pushed the doors open. “Hello? Anyone here? Achmed?”

  “What can I do you for you my friend?” The very much Hindu gas station attendant popped up from behind his register holding a slurpee.

  “What happened out there, and where are my men?” C
olton asked as he walked closer.

  “Nothing…everything is just as it should be my short and pudgy friend.” The gas station attendant took a long slurp from his cup.

  “What’s wrong with the lights?” Bobby asked.

  “We blew a fuse. Maybe if one of you helps me flip the breaker we could get the lights back on? What do you say my friend? Will you help, or maybe you Cowboy?”

  “Cowboy?” Bobby questioned, then nudged Colton, “Does this seem normal to you?”

  “Quit being a baby. Achmed calls every white guy he doesn’t know with a southern accent Cowboy. Go back there and help Achmed flip that switch. I’ll call dispatch and see if what happened to Cletus and Bob’s vehicles. Maybe the medical examiner sent the Meyer’s family to pick up the bodies. Jacob, Edward, and Bella are always a pain in the ass. They never want to wait. Their motto is, Scoop and Scoot! Creepy family.”

  “Creepy how?” Bobby asked.

  “I’ve never seen anything myself, but I have a real distinct impression that their family tree might just be a carrot.” When Bobby still looked confused Colton continued, “They’re the only family that thinks Muskrat Love is a Christmas carol.” Bobby still didn’t understand. “When you see them…you just sort of hear banjo music playing in your head.”

  “What?” Bobby sounded completely lost.

  Achmed stepped around the cash register and began moving to the back. “I believe what my vertically challenged friend is saying is that they are siblings and cousins, or it might be better to describe them as boyfriend and girlfriend and boyfriend. It is a very incestuous relationship. It is the redneck hillbilly love that so many of you make the jokes about.”

  “Eww.” Bobby sounded completely disgusted.

  Achmed laughed, his accent making his laughter almost musical, “Come with me, my cowboy friend. Together we’ll get the power back on.”

  Bobby followed the little hindu all the way into the back office. He set his shotgun just outside the doorway. Achmed was still sucking away on his big slurpee like it was the best thing ever. Bobby almost tripped over boxes twice before Achmed lead him to the breaker.

  “So I just flip all these switches, and the lights come on?” Bobby asked.

  “Yes my cowboy friend.” Achmed said from somewhere in the office. Bobby couldn’t be sure what he was doing, but it sounded like he was feeling around in the darkness for something. Boxes were moved, and a few things fell off what he assumed was a desk.

  The sound of shuffling came from the back of the store near the beer and milk. Colton started walking down the candy aisle beside the fountain drinks when the lights outside finally turned back on. The gas pumps were lit up, and the ambient light turned the inside of the gas station from an almost pitch black, to dark shadows. Colton was happy that now he didn’t have to worry about tripping over his own two feet.

  “Is anyone back there?” Colton asked.

  He froze in place as a sound that was equal parts gagging and gargling responded. A head rose up from near the refrigerated section. The lights just outside the glass lit up, and gave Colton a perfect silhouette of the man now walking next to the ice cream, and getting closer with every step. Two more heads rose up near the beer, and followed the first. One was clearly feminine, her ponytail bounced with every step. The third was so fat that its silhouette looked more like a snowman than a person. It had a giant head that sat on an equally giant body. There was not even a hint of a neck.

  “Are you three alright?” Colton asked.

  “Never felt better sheriff.” The woman responded.

  The power to the refrigerators came back on, and they began to hum as the first man finally rounded the corner. Colton instinctively stepped back.

  “Oh sheriff, you’re not afraid of us are you?” The fat blob said, and Colton realized by the voice that it was definitely a man.

  “Duffy? Is that you?” Colton asked.

  “Yep.” Duffy responded.

  “What were you doing back there? “ The sheriff asked nervously. Something about the whole thing was setting him on edge.

  “Eating.” Duffy answered.

  Power returned to the cash register, and as the machines came on they made an awful racket. Colton spun around and drew his gun on the cash register before realizing what it was. “Shit. Coonass! Hurry up and get the lights on. I’m jumping at shadows out here.”

  “Wussy!” Bobby’s voice teased from the back room before he answered, “Almost done.”

  Colton turned back around to the three people walking towards him. They were much closer now. The first man was almost halfway up the aisle. The woman was behind him, and Duffy was rounding the corner. Then the lights flickered on. Colton’s eyes had to adjust to the light. It took a moment, but then he saw them…he saw everything.

  Bloody handprints were on the windows where people tried to escape. Arterial sprays were on the walls. The hotdog machine was clumsily turning a man’s forearm, and it was plumping up like the hotdogs that were cooked beside it. The slurpee machine was still working, but two legs were sticking out of the top of it. The rotors inside were churning the bloody remains into a coke flavored bloody slush. Colton’s eyes were wide like a scared animal. Then he saw them.

  Duffy, the fat man, had chunks ripped out of his face and body like someone had tried to eat him. He was holding some poor man’s leg like it was a turkey leg from one of those renaissance fairs. He kept taking bites, but bits and pieces fell out of a hole in his cheek as he chewed. The woman in front wasn’t much better. She was missing an eye. It looked like someone had actually chewed it off from her face. One of her breasts was completely eaten away, and the ripped shirt hung around her hips exposing the other perky boob that bounced and swayed all by itself. Blood ran down her face, and Colton was almost certain it wasn’t her blood. She tried to smile seductively, but pieces of flesh were stuck in her teeth. Then there was the man in front. He was missing the whole lower half of his face. Everything from the bottom jaw down to his chest was just gone. His tongue hung down through the hole in his neck almost like it was a tie. He was missing his forearm, and Colton realized it was probably the very same one cooking on the hotdog machine.

  “Coonass! We got a problem!” Colton lifted the gun and pointed it at the first of the three when there was a loud bang from the back office, and the lights went out. The entire gas station went pitch black. The only hint of a light was the corner streetlight that just barely reached to the cash register.

  ***A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER***

  Bobby flipped the first switch. It turned over with a loud snapping sound. “Nothing.”

  “You will have to flip them all my cowboy friend.” Achmed knocked something down with a metallic clang.

  “Okay, well here goes.” Bobby flipped them one at a time. As he did, he could also hear Achmed shuffling across the floor back towards the breaker.

  “Shit. Coonass! Hurry up and get the lights on. I’m jumping at shadows out here.” Colton screamed.

  “Wussy!” Bobby screamed back as he continued to flip the switches. “Almost done.”

  As he flipped the final breaker, the sudden brightness blinded both Bobby, and Achmed. It took a moment for either of them to see.

  “Coonass! We got a problem!” Colton screamed.

  Bobby tensed and went on alert. His vision was returning, and he was just able to see out of the corner of his eye a slightly blurry Achmed was ready to swing something at him. Bobby flopped onto the ground, his vision clearing just in time to see the bat cut through the air. There was an audible swoosh, and then it hammered into the fuse box. The lights went out, and Achmed yelped as voltage poured through the bat and into his body. Bobby actually smelled burning hair as he crawled towards safety.

  Achmed jerked back, dislodging his bat from the breaker box, “If you are reincarnated as a human, my friend, could you please come back as someone much slower.” Bobby crawled to the door as quickly as possible. Achmed was fast on his tail, “And now
my friend. You become my dinner.”

  Bobby grabbed a box, and rolled onto his back holding the box between himself and Achmed. The bat came down with a whoosh, and struck the box with enough force to cause its contents inside to explode out. Cheesy Poofs went everywhere. Bobby tossed the box away, and grabbed another one. Then started shuffling towards the door on his back screaming, “Colton! You don’t know the half of it.”

  *Bang*

  Colton fired one round towards where he believed the center mass was on the man. The muzzle fire lit up the room. Colton didn’t hear any glass shatter, or anything break, so he assumed he’d struck the first man. Unfortunately, the bullet didn’t appear to have slowed him down at all. He could still hear the sound of the man walking towards him, but now his ears also were ringing from the gunfire.

  “Coonass! I could use a hand here.” Colton yelled.

  “Kind of busy myself!” Bobby screamed as the bat came back down onto the box. Cheese flavored popcorn flew in all directions, but the box spared Bobby what would have certainly been a death blow. Bobby kicked the box up into Achmed’s face, turned over and scrambled out the doorway. He snatched up his shotgun, kicked the door closed behind him, and then braced it with his body.

  *Bang-Bang*

  Colton fired two more rounds.

  *Clang-Clang*

  Achmed beat the bat against the door, “Let me out my cowboy friend. I have to work the rest of my shift. The pop-tarts and hot-pockets do not sell themselves. Plus I still want to eat your brain. I still have some leftover curry to go with it, and hummus to dip it in. I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this.”

  “Fuck you, and your retard strength!” Bobby screamed through the door.

  “Now my friend, there is no reason to be saying such rude things.” Achmed responded. Then the bat struck the door again. The impact rattled Bobby’s teeth. The bat deformed the door. A huge dent stuck out beside Bobby’s head. If he’d have been where the bat struck then he would have been killed instantly.