Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  It was at that point that Danior pushed his will into the other man. Jimbo walked to the back of the bus. Opened the emergency door, and leapt from the back onto a little purple Smart car. The front of the tiny little two-seater caved in from the impact. The driver jerked the wheel as he tried to avoid Jimbo’s upper body. The Smart car skidded sideways, and then began rolling. As it rolled, other cars slammed into the tiny car, or they crashed trying to avoid the wreckage that was still tumbling end over end.

  When the car stopped, it barely resembled the car it had been. The same could be said for Jimbo. The man’s arms were bent in ways that the human body just wasn’t designed for. One of his feet was facing the wrong direction, and he had part of the rearview mirror imbedded in his left buttock. The driver sat there hyperventilating. He’d rolled almost two hundred feet. The car would have stopped well before then, but other cars kept hammering into it.

  Jimbo landing on the Smart car caused a forty-three car pileup. Most of the people were shaken, but otherwise okay. Several people were ejected from their cars. The lucky ones died instantly when their heads splattered onto the roadway, but the unlucky ones had to endure being driven over repeatedly until the trauma killed them. An old Chevy burst into flames at the back of the pileup, and as time passed the fire spread to the other cars. Most of the people got out safely, but some of the people were trapped in their cars. Men, women, and children died screaming for help as they watched the fire spread.

  The Smart car was far enough away that it was spared the fire. The driver looked back and sighed with relief. He checked his body to make sure everything was where it should be. “Oh thank God…I thought I was going to die.” That’s when Jimbo bit him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The phone rang, and Jack Pennywise answered. “Where’s Pickle Jack?”

  Jack Pennywise rolled his eyes, “I’m on my way boss.”

  “You better be there in ten minutes, or you can consider this your last job. I’ve got an angry mom bitching about how Pickle Jack the clown is almost thirty minutes late.” The boss screamed.

  “I said I’m on my way. Relax.”

  “Why do I keep putting up with your shit?” The man on the phone bellowed.

  “Because I’m the only clown you have that isn’t drunk or a closet pedophile. I’ll be there in five minutes tops. Just relax.”

  The boss screamed, and then hung up. Jack turned onto the street where the party was supposed to be held. Another minute later and he was parking on the street with the other cars. Jack opened his door, put his giant floppy shoes on the ground, and slowly slipped them on. “Showtime.” Jack grumbled as he lifted himself from the car.

  *Squeak-Squeak*

  His giant shoes always got everyone’s attention. They had the tiny little squeakers that you put in dog toys, and whenever he took a step they gave a high pitched sound. Parents thought it was annoying, but kids loved it, and if a kid loved it then you got invited to other parties. More parties equaled more money.

  “Why are you late?” A woman in her late thirties snapped. She had drawn on eyebrows, and nails as fake as her breasts.

  Jack took one look at her and warning bells went off in his head telling him that the woman who hired him was the trophy wife. Jack smiled, but inside he cringed. He hated trophy wives. They were so busy trying to have the best and the biggest, that they were never satisfied with anything. It meant he’d have to work twice as hard to earn half the tip.

  “Well?” She glared.

  “Well what?” Jack answered in as neutral a voice as possible.

  “Well what took you so long?”

  “Resistentialism.” Jack said sarcastically.

  “What?”

  Jack sighed, “My car wouldn’t start.”

  “I’m docking you for the first hour.” She snapped.

  “Of course you are.” Jack mumbled as he followed her to the backyard.

  When he got there forty kids were running and playing with the water hose. They were soaked. Jack hated kids. He hated being a clown. Unfortunately nobody was really looking to hire someone with a doctorate in art history and two sexual harassment lawsuits. So in the meantime he was falling back on the family profession. Jack’s father had been a clown. His grandfather had worked for P.T. Barnum himself. His father loved being a clown. A child’s laughter was its own reward. Jack however just wanted the money. His father always told him that he had all the talent in the world, but none of the heart. Jack didn’t disagree.

  He hated being a clown. He hated the way his face felt when he put on the makeup. He hated how his head itched under the wig once he started sweating. He hated the floppy shoes that squeaked, the flower that shot water, and most of all he hated the red rubber nose…especially the one that squeaked.

  Jack turned up his smile until it was as wide and friendly as he could. It actually made his face hurt a little. He walked over to the swimming pool. “Hey kids! Who wants to play with Pickle Jack the clown?”

  The birthday boy had the hose. He looked at Pickle Jack and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’re divinely beef-witted mother employed me to initiate you children in the fine art of buffoonery.” Jack responded.

  The birthday boy pointed a water hose at the man “I wanted Spongebob!” The water blasted him in the face, and knocked him backwards into the pool. The water was freezing. The wig, the costume, and the shoes absorbed the water, and began weighing him down.

  The kids erupted into laughter while Jack fought to keep from drowning. “Help!” Jack screamed.

  “I thought all clowns could float.” The boy said.

  “I don’t float! I don’t float at all!” Jack cried.

  The child’s mother snatched the hose from her son, “Jacob!”

  Jacob glared at his stepmother, “Theresa!”

  “Keep it up mister, and I’ll heat up that behind of yours.” Theresa’s snapped.

  “You’re not my mother.” James screamed.

  “Thank God.” Theresa responded as she threw the hose in to Jack. The clown pulled himself up out of the pool. When he finally made it out, his makeup was smeared into a blurry gray. His costume clung to him, and his giant floppy shoes made fart sounds with each step. The kids liked that even better.

  “What the fuck is wrong with that little monster?” Jack sputtered.

  Theresa opened her mouth to respond, but Jacob dove on top of her. The young boy started bashing the woman’s face into the cement. Some of the other parents tried to pry the boy off his mother, but he just batted them away. Jacob’s father tried to kick the child off of his new wife, but the boy just grabbed his leg, and then he snapped it so that the femur suddenly took the shape of an “L”

  Some of the other parents tried to get their children away to safety, but as soon as they got close enough the kids pounced. Jack stared in horror as the children ripped their parents apart. Little boys and girls were playing with their parents organs like they were just a macabre sandbox.

  The kids killed everyone within minutes, and they were stripping the flesh from. They devoured the brains like they were candy, and then all their eyes turned to Jack.

  ***

  Brian Waters pushed his way through the front doors. There was nobody at the desk so he clocked in and changed into his scrubs. It seemed a little strange that he hadn’t run into anyone. He wandered back to the nursing station at the back of the hospice. He couldn’t help but feel a little concerned at the lack of people along the way. Every door was shut. He didn’t hear a television, or even a radio. The only sound came from his shoes hitting the tile. With no other sounds to drown them out his shoes echoed loudly.

  He reached the nursing station. It was empty, and so he walked around the desk to see what his assignment was for the day. As he stepped around the desk, his foot hit something slippery, and he fell flat on his back. The thud echoed out like thunder. “Ow…what the fuck?” Brian rubbed his head, and tried to see what he slipp
ed on. Blood was pooled all around him. Then he saw Bridget. She was the head nurse. The back of her skull had been crushed in. At least that’s what he thought at first, but then he realized that it was just that the woman was missing the back of her head.

  Brian screamed and backed away. “Help!” When he reached the wall, he used it to edge himself back up to his feet. “Somebody help me!” Brian’s voice echoed.

  *Squeak*

  The sound was coming from near the front of the hospice. Brian turned to peek around the corner. It was an old man in a wheelchair.

  *Squeak*

  It was the sound the old man’s chair made as he rolled closer. Brian sighed in relief, but then he noticed the red ring around the man’s mouth. Red ran down his chest and dripped onto the floor. The old man started pushing his wheels faster.

  *SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK*

  The old man was coming right for him. Brian screamed and turned to run away. He hadn’t even heard the woman that was now just ten feet behind him. She was eighty if she was a day, and covered in blood. Her blue hair had bits of skin stuck to it, and she was still chewing on a finger. The old woman used her walker to close the distance.

  Brian dodge the old woman, and then tried to get to the fire exit, but more infected elderly began to come out of their doors. “Oh shit!” Brian screamed and turned completely around. He dodged the old woman again, and started running for the front. With each fall of his foot more doors opened. Some were in walkers, some had canes, More than a few were in wheelchairs. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and layed out on the tile floor like a baseball player sliding into second. An oxygen tank went flying just over his head, and buried into the wall.

  Brian popped back up to his feet, and glared at the hole. One of the old geezers just threw a large oxygen tank down a hallway. Brian couldn’t have done that on a good day. He turned to run, and nearly moved right into the waiting arms of Mitzy Barr, the Alzheimer patient from 8C.

  “Are you my grandson?” Mitzy asked. Blood and bits of flesh ran down her chin. She lunged at him, and Brian sidestepped. In desperation he punched her in the side of the head. He was already running down the hall before she crumpled onto the tile floor. More and more elderly were stepping out to get him. Some were chasing him on their electric wheelchairs.

  ***

  “Thank God you guys are safe.” B.J. said.

  “It’s been a rough night.” Sarah answered as she turned the wheel to go back home. “I really didn’t expect to see you at your dad’s house. I thought you were supposed to be studying that head.”

  B.J. shook her head, “I stepped away for ten minutes to go look something up on viruses. When I got back one of the deputies got bitten. So we had to have him secluded.”

  “Well that seems pretty straightforward. So why did you come back home?”

  “One of the frat boys apparently heard about the head, and he thought it would be cool to show it off at a party. He snuck in and stole it while we were getting the officer locked away. The idiot turned her head into a bong. The next thing I know half the campus is infected. There wasn’t anything I could do there. I begged a lot of the others to get out of there before the infection spread to the whole town. I don’t think many of them listened though. I came home. I figured Dad would be home, and he’d know what to do.”

  “Bobby slept over at our house last night. I guess I should warn you. He’s missing part of his earlobe.” Sarah tried to keep her voice calm.

  “Oh my God! What happened?”

  Sarah’s hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Zombies attacked our house last night. One of them tried to shoot him. It just clipped his ear. He’s fine, but he looks like hell.”

  B.J. started crying, “Jesus! What are we going to do?”

  Sarah smiled and tried to calm the young woman, “We’ll be fine. The zombies may be all over LSU, but the Louisiana National Guard will move in and handle it. As for us…I think it’d be best if we went somewhere with more police, and more people. That way we don’t end up in a situation like we had last night. So I think now would be a good time to head down to New Orleans.”

  “But what if they make it down there?” B.J. asked.

  “Then we should have plenty of warning. We get out of the city at the first sign of the infection, and in the meantime we find ourselves a nice hotel to stay at.”

  “How are you going to find a hotel? Isn’t everything booked up?”

  Sarah grinned, “One of the perks of being rich is that if you throw enough money at a problem, it either fixes itself or it goes away.” Sarah said as she made another turn.

  “HELP!”

  Sarah slammed on the brakes. Her car skidded to a halt. “Where’s that coming from?”

  B.J. shook her head, “I don’t know…wait…look over there.”

  Sarah and B.J. watched as a man in scrubs ran towards them. Behind him were forty elderly men and women. The electric wheelchairs were gaining on the man, but if he kept running, and if Sarah drove down the road cut the distance, then he might just be able to escape. Sarah stepped on the gas and Brian began to veer straight for their car.

  An old woman lifted her walker, and flung it at the man. He was twenty feet away when the walker imbedded itself into his back and burst out through his chest. Blood sprayed out from the wound, and he fell lifeless on the ground.

  “Holy shit!” B.J. screamed.

  “Hold on!” Sarah put a protective arm in front of the young woman. She stomped on the gas, and wheels screamed. Smoke billowed out from behind the car, and she sped off down the street. Some of the old fogeys on their electric wheelchairs and rascals tried to block her way. Sarah just drove faster. The car hit them doing forty. False teeth, toupees, and medic alert bracelets went flying. The car jerked and bounced as they drove over the people in their wheelchairs. Sarah kept driving. Some of the elderly began throwing things at the car to try and make it stop. Some threw shoes. A few threw their walkers, and several threw their colostomy bags like grenades, and they hit the car with such force that their contents burst all over the vehicle.

  Sarah fish-tailed down the road as her windshield wipers worked extra hard to remove the bloody fecal matter from the exploded bags. The infected elderly quickly disappeared behind them. Both women exhaled in relief, and Sarah let her foot relax on the gas pedal a little.

  “What the fuck!” Sarah said in disbelief as a clown ran out from a house. He had giant floppy feet. Behind him were a group of children covered in blood. The women could hear each footfall making a loud fart sound. One of the children grabbed a yellow handkerchief and pulled. The yellow handkerchief was attached to a blue handkerchief, and that one was attached to a red one, that was attached to a white one. Pickle Jack ran, and left a colorful trail of handkerchiefs behind him. He almost reached the street when the handkerchiefs snapped tight.

  Pickle Jack’s hips stopped moving forward even though the rest of his body kept trying to run away. It was an old joke, but the kids always had loved it. The handkerchiefs were tied end to end, and the very last one was always tied to his underwear. Kids loved the visual gag. The last thing Jack ever expected was to have a group of undead children reeling him in like a fish.

  Sarah didn’t even try to slow down. The man was already as good as dead. So she just slammed her foot to the floor, and sped away. Jack screamed to her for help, but the kids already had him. They held him down and sang happy birthday as Jacob kneeled at Jack’s head. When they finished Jacob bit down on Jack’s forehead. Jacob’s tiny teeth slowly gnawed through to the clown’s brain. The rest of the kids waited patiently until Jacob had his face buried in brain matter. Then they began eating him as well.

  Twenty minutes later they stripped the clown down to his bones, and then they began breaking them to suck the marrow like they were pixie sticks. After they finished, Jacob stood up and started walking down the street. The other kids followed him in a search for more food.
They got halfway down the block when Jacob’s stomach rumbled. The hazel eyed boy covered his stomach, then burped as loudly as possible before turning to his friends and saying with a smirk, “That clown tasted funny.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bobby grumbled as he stepped into the shower. It had taken him far longer to clean up the water from the bidet than he expected. The water was red as cherry Kool-Aid for the first fifteen minutes. The wound on his ear stung as the showerhead sprayed it. He didn’t even attempt to use soap until the water changed to a slight pink color. Grit was caked in even his most intimate places. He used the showerhead to reach Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles were lined up along the side of the shower. Bobby searched through them all. “Let’s see…Secret Wonderland, Forever Sunshine, Sweet Peony Dream, Moonlight Path, Pink Chiffon, Sexy Dahlia Rush, Cashmere Glow, Twilight Woods, Butterfly Flower? Is there anything here that doesn’t smell like I’m a man that wants to take it in the ass?”

  After searching some more, he found some coconut scented body wash. “Shit. Well beggars can’t be choosers. Besides…I haven’t found anything else that won’t have me smelling like Justin Bieber’s taint.” He found a loofa and started scrubbing. The remaining dried blood scraped away. Three days of dirt from digging septic tanks eventually washed off. Even the sludge caked between his toes rinsed off eventually. He was getting prune hands by the time he finished. Bobby shut off the water and stepped out. He took a towel and began drying himself. “These towels are softer than my blankets.” Bobby put the towel between his legs and pulled it back and forth and laughed, “Oh yeah…there’s nothing quite like a clean ball sack.”

  There was a loud bang as the front door swung open. “I guess Sarah’s back with my change of clothes.” Bobby finished drying himself off, and then wrapped the towel around his waist. “I gotta get me some of these. They’re so soft. This has gotta be what it’s like to get a lap dance from an angel.”