“Well I don’t want to just let her go.” Max grumbled.
“Oh I didn’t say that. Go climb up into the back of the fire engine, and dig out a couple road flares. Toss one in the gas tank, and then toss the other inside the truck with her. We can’t get in to her, but she can’t get out either. You can see how she’s pinned under Mo and Rico. There’s no way we get to her. We’d have to go through their bodies to reach her, by then she’d put enough lead in us that you could shit a pencil. So instead we just set it on fire, and then go back inside to get us something to eat.” Esteban grinned, waved at the terrified woman inside the fire engine, and then turned back towards the jail.
Max scrambled up to get the road flares. He tossed the first flare inside with Lisa. Almost immediately it started burning Mohammad’s clothes. The fire started spreading fairly quickly. Max then dropped a lit flare into the gas tank, and jumped off the fire truck to get away. He expected an explosion, but with the gas tank still open it just shot flame up like a torch. It didn’t take long before the outside of the fire engine was on fire. Lisa was trapped.
“Maybe after it’s done we’ll come back. I do like my steaks well done.” Max laughed. He started heading back to the jail to catch up with his friends. They were already inside, probably getting ready to open one of the cells. The thought put a little extra spring in his step.
*Ka-Blam*
Max turned around, and watched in awe as the woman began firing through the windshield. It took every round she had in the shotgun, but eventually there was a hole. He stood there as she started beating the windshield with her shotgun until there was enough room for her to fit through. Lisa started crawling out just was the fire started consuming the two bodies that had been on top of her. It was a tight squeeze, and she cut herself a few times sliding out, but she made it.
Max couldn’t help but clap. The woman’s will to survive was amazing. “Well, I am impressed. Of course now you’re out of bullets, and out of luck.” He started to close in on her.
Lisa stayed as calm as she could. She pulled the revolver out of her cleavage. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but her hands were steady. She didn’t say anything. There weren’t any words left in her. The hammer cocked back, and then she pulled the trigger.
The first bullet just missed his head. It struck him in the neck, and burst out the back. The second bullet took off part of Max’s ear. He was right on top of her when she pulled the trigger for a third time. It went right into his mouth, and ripped out through his cheek. Max grabbed her, and bit down on her shoulder. Then fell onto the pavement. Lisa held onto the revolver for everything she was worth. She put the gun up to Max’s head, and pulled the trigger, but at the last second he jerked to tear some flesh away. The bullet tore off his lower jaw. Lisa only had two bullets left. She knew she had to make them count. She rammed the barrel of the gun in Max’s eye. It burst with a juicy pop. Its fluids ran down the barrel. Then she pulled the trigger. Finally, Max was still.
“Oh…damn.” Lisa’s eyes began watering as she looked at the wound. She was infected if what Colton said was right, and she was pretty certain he was right on this one. Still, she refused to cry. Lisa stood up, and looked at the man she’d just killed. “I will not let myself become…that.”
There was one bullet left, and she was going to make it count. The barrel went into her mouth. Her hand trembled a little as she pulled the hammer back. She did her best to make sure the gun was pointed so that it would definitely kill her. The last thing she wanted was for it to fire, and end up making her last few moments even more miserable. Lisa said a prayer, and then pulled the trigger.
*Click*
Her eyes shot open. She pulled the trigger again.
*Click*
She pulled the trigger over and over again, but nothing happened. The last bullet was a dud. There was nothing left for her to do. She couldn’t go inside to get another gun right now without being eaten, she couldn’t grab the bullets. They were still in her purse under the two dead firemen. In no time they’d be on fire. She still refused to cry. Instead she walked over to a bench, sat down, and waited for whatever it was to happen. She couldn’t think of anything else to do by then. All her options had disappeared as far as she could tell. Thirty minutes later she walked back inside the jail, made her way down to the cells, and joined the two firemen in eating a young Asian woman that had been booked on DWI earlier in the day. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Chapter Seventeen
“Howdy Colton? Can you get a little closer? It’s hard to crawl with only one arm.” Deputy Pocky said calmly.
Colton and Bobby stared down at the two deputies and the head that was now rolling her eyes at them as if to say, “Come closer.” Then they saw the dog’s body twisted and mangled. It had been ripped apart and huge chunks bitten out. Both men were glad that it was dead, and not suffering.
“Bob? Cletus? What the hell happened?” Colton asked.
“Nothing really. We were out here running a speed trap like you showed us, and…we got hungry.” Cletus Redford answered.
“You ate that poor woman.” Colton snapped.
“Well yeah, I mean we were hungry, and eating her just sounded so good.” Bob’s voice was calm and reasonable. It was as if everything he’d just said made perfect sense. He then turned to Debra, “You were delicious by the way.”
Debra mouthed, “Thank you.” Then she mouthed a bunch of other stuff. It was probably about them eating her, but nobody could read lips well enough to understand her.
Cletus finally couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed the ground with his working arm, and slid himself along the ground at the two men. “I call dibs on the fat one.”
“Hey…I’m not fat. I’m pleasantly plump.” Colton’s voice actually sounded hurt.
“Yeah, whatever chubby…I’m thinking a little ginger would taste pretty good right now.” Cletus said as he took another long pull to drag himself closer.
“Oh hell no! I want the fat one!” Bob said as he snagged his partner’s leg and began dragging himself towards Colton.
“We can’t both have the fat one.” Cletus said as he kicked his friend in the face.
“I am not fat. I’m big boned.” Colton snapped.
“Big boned huh…well a big bone would explain how you got that sweet piece of ass back home. I call dibs on Sarah.” Bob said.
“You can’t call dibs on someone that isn’t here.” Cletus snapped.
“What are you? The dibs police? I say I call dibs on Sarah Mudd. You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t call dibs on.” Bob said as he grabbed Cletus by the belt loop to drag himself up even closer.
*Bang*
Bobby’s shotgun took Bob Pocky’s head, and reduced it to hamburger. “Nobody touches Sarah.” Bobby’s words were ice cold. Even Colton was shocked by the complete change in the man’s demeanor. There was no playfulness to him at all. It was just a cold rage, and as quickly as it came…it went away. Bobby blinked, and he was back to being the goofy redneck Colton called his friend. “Except for you Colt...you can touch her.” Bobby grinned.
“Well thanks. I never realized I needed permission to touch my wife, but thank you for giving it.” Colton said sarcastically. By now Cletus was only a few feet away. Bobby took aim, but his hand was shaking. “I-I-I-I can’t.” Tears were running down his face. He’d hired the man, trained him, had Christmas dinner with him, and the thought of shooting him was just too much.
“That’s okay…just a little closer.” Cletus said as he grabbed the tip of Colton’s shoe. One more pull and he’d be close enough for a bite.
Bobby put Lucy’s barrel next to Cletus’ head, “Sorry. Colton might not be able to shoot you, but I don’t have that problem. You’re fired!”
*Bang*
The front have of Cletus’ face was just gone, and most of the front of his forehead with it. Cletus stopped moving, and Colton started crying. Bobby put his arm around his best f
riend and let the little man cry. They stood like that for almost an hour before Colton stepped away and wiped his eyes. “When we have to explain all this, can we leave that last part out?” Colton pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
“Fuck no…I’m gonna tell everyone how you cried like a little bitch baby.” Bobby said with a laugh. “I might even make some shit up while I’m at it. Maybe I’ll tell them how you tried to cop a feel.”
Colton punched his friend in the arm, “Asshole.” Then he gave a weak grin, “Thanks.”
“Hey no problem, but can we get out of here? There’s a bunch of pissed off zombie firemen, and who knows who else is infected.” Bobby asked.
“Yeah, but first we need to get rid of that head.” Colton said. He walked passed his friends bodies and pointed the gun at Debra’s forehead.
“Wait…maybe she could be useful.” Bobby said.
“How?”
“Well it isn’t like she can actually come after anyone. Maybe we could take her to some doctor and see if they can figure out how to fix this? I mean I don’t know about you, but shooting zombies hasn’t been the family fun activity that videogames have promised all these years.”
“Well? Maybe. Do you know any doctors?”
“No…wait…B.J.! My daughter knows all kinds of science stuff. I can’t pronounce any of it, but shit…some of that has to be useful. Plus she’s probably got access to labs and stuff. So she might be able to do something, or at least find us some eggheads that can.”
“Well...” Bobby stood there thinking about it for a few moments. Finally, he shrugged, “Shit, why not. It isn’t like we’ve got a lot of options. I’ve got trash bags in the back of the explorer. We’ll put on latex gloves then pick up the head and drop it in the trash bag. Hopefully something good comes out of this.”
The two men worked together to pick up Debra Kuhn’s head. They were careful, but she kept trying to bite them. They dropped her into the garbage bag and then carefully put it in the back of the Explorer. They even moved a few things around to pin it in so that they could be sure it wouldn’t move. The last thing either of them wanted to do was try and hunt down a zombie head that might have rolled under a seat or something.
Colton and Bobby got back into the Explorer. Bobby slid into the driver’s seat, and had to let the seat way back, “Damn you have short little turtle legs.”
“Shut up. I need to get ahold of some of the other local police for mutual aid. Then I need to contact the Center for Disease Control. The CDC needs to know what’s going on. Plus I need to contact the Meyer’s and have them do some scoop and scoots to get all the bodies down to the morgue.” Colton sounded beaten down by it all.
“The Meyers? Oh yeah, the inbreeders you and Achmed told me about. Shit, I’d almost forgot about them. After you’re done I need to call B.J. and make sure she’s there. Be a whole big fucking waste for us to drive over there and she’s hanging out with some new boyfriend.” Bobby stepped down on the gas, and they began driving off towards LSU campus.
Colton’s eyes got all squinty with overprotective anger, “It’s too late for that girl to be out. She should be home studying. Not letting some guy drool all over her.”
“First, she’s a grown up. That means she makes her own decisions. Hell she’s more mature than either of us were at her age. Shit, she’s more mature than we are now. Second, if some guy is drooling over her right now. I’m pretty sure it’s because she wants him to.”
Colton shuddered, “I can’t believe you can be so calm about that. Fathers are supposed to be more protective of their kids.”
“I am, if someone hurt her. Lucy and I would pay that man a very unpleasant visit, and he’d get a twelve-gauge sex change. That being said, I raised that girl right. She knows her own mind on stuff. I think the best thing I can do as her dad is to let her make her own decisions. I mean so far she’s still got all ten fingers, and that’s one better than me.” Bobby raised his hand and wiggled the four remaining digits at Colton as his proof.
Colton growled, “I still don’t like it.”
“That’s why you’re the best godfather ever.” Bobby laughed. “You keep slapping all the boys away from B.J. like flies. Hell, I couldn’t be the overprotective dad even if I wanted to. You already done all the work.”
Colton laughed and then started dialing. A few rings later he had ahold of the Meyers. He gave them the locations and then moved on. Next he called the CDC, and after giving them the best explanation he could that didn’t sound completely insane he was informed that he’d have to send a formal request through a fax from his station using letterhead that clearly advised that the fax was from the sheriff’s department, and that the letterhead displayed a fax number for informational packets to be sent to. The fax number must match the number you are sending from so that we can verify that you are who you say you are before the CDC will even consider it.
“But the…situation could have spread all through the jail. Is there any other way?” Colton asked.
“Certainly, we’ll also accept a teletype from your department, or a notarized letter saying that you are the sheriff, the nature of the problem, and any potential hazards.” The man from the CDC answered.
“Wonderful. I can get you a notarized letter. Where would I need to fax it?” Colton asked.
“From your station, on letterhead with a fax number displayed that matches the number you’ll be sending it from. I thought I made that pretty clear.” The man responded.
“But we can’t go into the station. The…situation might have spread there. Now like I said earlier…is there any way to handle this without going back to the station.” Colton said as politely as he could with gritted teeth.
“Of course. Take the notorized letter to our home office in Atlanta, Georgia, or mail it to us. I can give you the address if you’d like.” The man said with an overly helpful tone.
“I can’t drive all the way to Atlanta. This thing will have spread to God knows who by then and there’ll be no containing it.” Colton was squeezing the phone, and picturing the man on the other phone turning a bright shade of purple.
“You could mail it sir. Perhaps overnight it to use?” The man was still cheerful as ever.
Colton fought the headache that was pulsing just behind his eyes, “So my options are drive to Atlanta, and maybe be there by tomorrow sometime. Then hand you a letter-“
“Oh no sir, I don’t accept mail for the CDC. That’s another department entirely. I could give you their number.” The man interrupted cheerfully.
Colton counted to ten, and tried to think of something to calm himself down before he started screaming. “Ooooooooooookay…so my options are drive to Atlanta, and then deliver it to someone in the CDC that accepts mail. Which means I wouldn’t be able to get back to protect the people until tomorrow evening at the earliest, or I can wait until morning, mail the letter to you, and when you get it a day later I’ll finally get help?”
“Of course sir…just as soon as we can confirm the letter with someone inside the police station in Livingston Parish.” The man didn’t even have a hint of humor in what he’d just said.
“So…ultimately…no matter what I do, I can’t get any help unless I can get back into my station so that you people can verify that I am who I say I am. That’s pretty fucking stupid.” Colton grumbled.
“Sir, may I remind you that all calls are recorded and monitored for quality assurance.” The man rattled the words with complete professionalism, and a cheery demeanor.
Colton nearly started cursing the man out right then, but instead he held his tongue, took a few more calming breaths, and then spoke, “What if I just went to one of the other police stations in the area? Could I get them to send a letter?”
“Of course sir.” The man said in his overly chipper tone.
“Wonderful, so I’ll just have one of them send you the fax, and then the CDC can send someone to my station.” Colton sighed with relief.
“Ewwwww…I’m sorry sir. We can’t do that. Policy dictates that all requests for departmental assistance have to come from that specific department.” The man’s voice was now causing Colton’s left eye to twitch.
Colton began sputtering, but he calmed himself back down to ask one last time, “WHAT…can I do to get the CDC down here to help me that doesn’t involve in any way shape or form me going into my police station?”
There was dead silence for a few moments, and then finally, “Sir…I’m sorry, but policy dictates-“
“Screw your fucking policy…JESUS!” Colton screamed in frustration. “WHAT THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET SOMEONE FROM THE GOVERNMENT DOWN HERE? “
“Sir, again…I remind you all conversations are recorded and monitored for quality assurance.” The man was unfazed.
Colton glared at his phone. He couldn’t think clearly enough to even insult the man. Bobby finally reached over and gently took the phone away from his friend, “It’s okay buddy. I got this.” Bobby put the phone on speaker. “Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Allen Conner of the CDC. To whom am I speaking?” The voice was just so bubbly and happy that Bobby considered throwing the cell phone out the window just to shut him up.
“Well Allen. My name is Coonass Mullins. I’d first like to start off by saying I stole this phone.”
“Sir, this is a recorded line, and all conversations are monitored for quality assur-“
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…that’s fine, whatever.” Bobby interrupted. Then after he was sure that Allen was listening Bobby said, “I stole this phone from the sheriff so that I could say that I am currently plotting to assassinate the President. I’m going to kidnap him, sodomize him with a bowling trophy I found at a yard sale two years ago, and then beat him to death with my ex-wife’s crusty old dildo.”
“Sir…we take threats against the president very seriously.”
Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves Page 18
