by Brian Parker
Then it was time for him to come to work at the shop. He’d been pretty busy all day, but ended up losing about an hour’s worth of work because his inattentive mind slipped and he screwed up this college girl’s butterfly. She’d thrown a fit and he had to reimburse her payment and finish the tattoo for free. Talk about adding another stone to a drowning man’s pocket.
He took a long drag from his cigarette and held the smoke in for a couple of seconds before exhaling it through his nose. The damned environmentalist fucks had passed a law last month that prohibited anyone from smoking inside any business within the city limits, regardless of the type of establishment. The change in the city code forced him to take a ten-minute break every hour when he needed a cigarette, and in his line of work, time was literally money. So, not only was he losing money by not working, he was spending money as well because the price of cigarettes had increased so dramatically in the last twelve months.
Fuck it all, man, he thought to himself as he took another drag through the filter. He had a kid on the table inside that was in the middle of a two-hour tribal tat on his shoulder, but Trent’s body had forced him to stop working and come outside to feed the addiction. I gotta quit smoking, he told himself for the hundredth time. The problem was that the damned smoking cessation patches cost so much money. “Fuck the gov’ment,” he muttered aloud and flicked his butt out into the night.
A glass bottle pinged against the dumpster in the recesses of the alley. Trent whirled around and peered into the darkness. He’d heard the sound before. Most of the time it meant that some jackass college kid was stumbling drunk and got lost in the alley, but there’d been a couple of times when someone tried to sneak up on the shop to rob it. The parlor wasn’t in the worst part of town since it was in close proximity to the university, but the area still left a lot to be desired.
“Who’s there?” he called into the night. An eerie moan echoed from the shadows in reply.
“Very funny. Halloween’s over, fucktards. Go home to your mama’s house before you run into some trouble that you didn’t come lookin’ for.”
There was definitely some movement in the alley, but it was too dark to see what was going on. Trent tapped a few buttons on his phone, the camera’s flash turned on and he aimed it down the alley. There was some guy dressed in a lab coat half in and half out of a hole in the back fence.
“Hey, Doctor Fucking Who, get the fuck out of here. This is private property,” he shouted at the man. This was not the night to fuck around with him.
The lab coat ripped audibly and the man fell forward into the alley. He rested on his hands and knees for a moment, which bolstered Trent’s confidence. “Hey dickweed, get the fuck outta here before I call the cops.” God he hated dealing with drunks and crackheads.
Before he could even comprehend what was happening, the man closed the distance between them and pinned his body against the wall of the shop. The phone went flying and landed with the light shining skyward like a beacon to call the damned Batman to rescue him. Trent let out a squeal of terror as the man’s face twisted in a mask of hatred and he opened his mouth incredibly wide, sinkinghis teeth into Trent’s neck and arterial blood sprayed across the alley. Trent’s feet kicked uselessly at his attacker and finally spasmed several times on their own as the last of his body’s nerves fired.
The graduate assistant pulled backwards and a strip of flesh slowly tore away from the tattoo artist’s neck. It was still connected to his shoulder and Trent looked in horror at the piece of his body hanging from the creature’s mouth until Steven's teeth snapped down hard to separate it. The zombie chewed noisily on the skin and gristle while he held Trent against the wall, then it dove back in for another bite as the blood poured from his victim and pooled around his feet. Once Trent died, the creature dropped him, no longer interested in consuming dead flesh.
The cell phone chimed and the creature turned to determine what the new threat was. He didn’t see anything to attack, but on the opposite side, facing the ground a new message had just come in from Trisha. “Sorry bout 2day. Needed to think. Kelly is down to do it with us! Come by the Dillo after u get off work. Luv u, smooches.”
The Phone Jockey, 9:28 p.m.
The alarm on Tristan's phone roused him from the nap that he took before work. He slapped groggily at it and the stupid phone slid between his mattress and the wall.
“Dang it,” the boy muttered as he dug his hand down to try and grasp it as the alarm signal continued its muffled echo from under the bed. He finally grasped it and slid his finger across the touch screen to turn it off.
“Ugh...” he groaned as he wiped the drool from the side of his face. He was still exhausted. He'd played basketball all afternoon with several of his friends who still hung around town without a job after graduation and needed a quick shower before work.
He was one of the lucky ones who’d been able to find a job in town that allowed him to still spend time with his friends and brought in enough money that he could save some of it to eventually move out of his parents' house and live on his own like an adult. Tristan's friends didn't understand why it was so important for him to get his own place; most of them were content to stay at home and had no real plans to go anywhere. But the news that Julie gave him last month changed everything and his sense of responsibility was in overdrive.
Tristan and Julie were on the short track to being parents themselves. By her best guess, she was about three months along and neither of them had told their parents yet. She was still in high school for a few more weeks and they'd decided to wait until after she graduated to tell anyone. They figured that it was easier that way; they'd get one hurdle out of the way before putting another one in its place.
He adjusted himself so that the mini-boner he had from sleeping wouldn't be apparent if his little sister happened to run into him before he made it to the bathroom. He slipped into the hallway outside of his room and tiptoed down the hallway. His parents had bought their home right after high school and had lived in it ever since. Heck, they even paid it off a few years ago. They had a big party the weekend after they made their final payment and that's when Tristan met his future wife.
He hadn't told her that yet, of course, but they'd dated for over three years and were going to have a child together, so it only made sense to him that he should do the right thing and ask her to marry him. He and Julie had taken the gamble of premarital sex and now it was up to them to raise their child in a loving, stable home. He'd been raised as a good Christian boy and knew that his parents would expect him to make that decision as well, even if he had let his carnal desires get the better of him.
The shower did an amazing job revitalizing him so he could get ready for work. Actually, “get ready” was a relative term; he worked in a magazine subscription call center and could wear his normal, everyday street clothes to work. All he had to do was run a comb through his hair, brush his teeth and put on some deodorant and he was good to go for the night.
“Tristan!” his mom yelled from downstairs.
He opened the bathroom door slightly. “Yeah, what is it mom?” he called back.
“I made you a snack before work. Chicken nuggets. Come down and eat something before you go sit at the office for twelve hours.”
“Okay. I'm almost ready, Mom. Be right there.”
Tristan wrapped a towel tightly around himself and stepped out of the bathroom. Right into his nosy kid sister Gertie. “Hey, what gives?” he asked.
“I heard you talking to Julie earlier, Tristan,” she sneered. She'd mastered that look early in life and he'd had to deal with it for the last twelve years.
“Yeah, okay. So what?” he replied cautiously. Where was she going with this? he wondered as his mind raced to what she could have possibly heard during his pre-nap phone conversation.
“Why are you talking about making a hospital appointment?”
Crap. “Because, I'm getting older and as men get older, they have to see the doctor
regularly. Sheesh, why is everything a conspiracy to you?”
“You know what I think?” she asked and then continued before he had the opportunity to say anything, “I think that you and Julie are having S-E-X. I've heard your bed squeaking when she's over here. And now, I think that you caught AIDS and have to go to the doctor to get it fixed.”
Stupid kid. “Julie and I aren't having sex, Gertie; that goes against the teachings of the Church. You probably just heard us moving around when she was studying for the SAT. It's so boring.” That part was true. He helped Julie study for the college entrance exam with flash cards and his legs went to sleep all the time from sitting too long. She didn't take the test as a Junior because she went through a phase where she wanted to join the Peace Corps after high school and move to Guatemala to help the population, but now she decided that she wanted to become a school counselor. So she had to take the SAT as a Senior and he’d viewed it as his responsibility to help her get the best possible score, even if it stank.
“Pastor Allan says that people who have sex before marriage go to Hell,” Gertie stated. “You better not be having sex, Tristan Michael!”
“Aw, come on! Leave me alone and let me get dressed for work,” he replied as he shoved past her towards his room.
“Fine, I'll just ask Julie the next time she's over here!”
He whirled around towards his troublesome sister. “Don't you go upsetting her, do you hear me? She can't get stressed out. It’s… It's almost time for finals and she hasn't gotten an acceptance letter from any of the schools that she applied to yet. Please, just don't stress her out, okay?”
Her eyes narrowed and he could tell that she wanted to say something, but she thought better of it and went into her room instead. “Always nice talking to you,” he said loudly to her door.
Geez, that was close… I thought that we'd been quiet, he moaned internally. It took him less than two seconds to decide that after work today, he'd get some of his dad's WD-40 and spray it on all of his bed springs to help silence the noise of their lovemaking.
When he went downstairs, his mom sat at the kitchen table beside a plate of chicken nuggets with barbecue sauce and a glass of ginger ale. “Here you go, honey. I know that you use up all of your energy playing basketball and you don't have time to get any proper food.”
He dunked a nugget in the sauce and crammed it in his mouth. “Thank you!” he replied after he had a mouthful of food.
His mother grimaced slightly, “Well, you're welcome. Honey, I heard you and Gertrude talking… Is everything alright?”
Oh man. “Yeah, of course. You know how annoying kid sisters can be.”
“Okay, well you know that you can tell me anything. Even if I have to keep it from your father, you can always tell me whatever is on your mind.”
Tristan's father was a cop. He'd joined the force back in the days when they would take officers without college degrees and he'd been a police officer in Belton for over twenty-five years. Even as sleepy as the little town was, that long as a cop tended to make a person rough around the edges and his father was widely known to have a major temper. When you coupled that with his absolute views on what was right and wrong, he made for a pretty imposing father-figure to a skinny guy like Tristan who was more into comic books and Legos as a kid than sports. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was terrified of his father.
“Nope, nothing's wrong, Mom. Promise.” He shoved two whole nuggets in his mouth and chewed, happy for the diversion which allowed him to think.
The older woman stared intently at him for a moment and then said, “Okay. Enjoy your nuggets, son. I'm gonna go watch my show.” She stood up and kissed him on the top of his head before going into the living room.
He finished the chicken nuggets and downed the rest of the soda before grabbing his car keys and heading out the door. “Bye, Mom. Love you,” he called over his shoulder. He closed the door before she had a chance to respond.
On the way to work he called Julie, “Hey, babe. How are you holdin' up?”
“Better now that you called. There's some really strange stuff going on at the university. Has your dad called you guys about why all the police cars are at the school?” She lived across the little river from the University of Mary Magdalene and the kids were always doing dumb stuff, especially this close to the end of the semester, so it didn't particularly stand out in his mind as anything strange.
“Are you kidding? We barely talk. He might have called Mom while I was asleep, but I don't know.”
“Tristan, promise me that if our baby is a boy, you won't have the same type of relationship with him that you do with your dad.”
“What 'relationship'? We barely speak. I –”
“Oh my God, Tristan! Did you hear that? Someone just screamed like they were being raped or something outside my window. My parents aren't home… That was really weird, I'm scared, babe.”
He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. He could pick her up and run her back to his house if she was that nervous. He'd read online that the first trimester was one of the more dangerous times for miscarriages due to stress and outside influences so it was imperative to him to keep her level of stress as low as possible. “Do you want me to pick you up and take you to my house? I've still gotta go to work, but you can stay the night there if you want.”
She thought for a moment and then said, “Yeah. Something isn't right over here. I really don't like it. Would you mind? I don't wanna make you late for work, though.”
He put his blinker on and exited the highway. “Of course I don't mind. I’ve got time and I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it.”
“Oh, thank God. That scream really freaked me out. First all those police cars, now that. Thank you, babe.”
“No worries. I'm about two miles from your house, so I'll be there in just a few.”
His car turned into Julie's neighborhood and the headlights illuminated her home. The Gonzalez' house sat directly in front of a “T” intersection so they had blackout blinds on their front windows to help block out the light from the constant stream of cars that came into their neighborhood. Tristan noticed immediately that one side of the curtains in the dining room was open and Julie stood in the window watching. Dang, she must be really scared.
He hadn't even shut off the engine when his girlfriend bumped into the passenger side of his car. “That was quick,” he muttered. Her blonde hair was plastered against the side of her face like she’d been sweating heavily and he waved to here, but something wasn't right… Then a second girl hit his car as well, this one had short black hair and her face was hidden in shadow. He opened his car door and stepped out. “Hey, babe. What gives?”
The blonde's face snapped up towards him and her features became defined in the watery light of the street light overhead. It wasn't Julie, but the girl was built just like his girl. Her face was covered in something shiny and red. “What's –”
The two girls scrambled towards him and he swore that one of them growled at him. “Hey, what the hell?”
“Tristan!” Julie screamed from the front door of her house. “Get in here!”
He wasn't some punk that would let two girls scare him, but maybe Julie was right. Maybe they were druggies looking for a fix or something. He walked briskly towards the front door of the house and called over his shoulder, “Get outta here you two. Nobody wants your kind in this neighborhood.”
Julie practically yanked him off his feet through the door and slammed it shut behind him. Almost instantly, two loud thuds impacted against the door and his girlfriend's hands shook violently as she twisted the deadbolt home.
“Who… Who are those people?” Tristan asked as he stared at the door, which continued to shudder under the impacts from the girls outside.
“I don't know. Oh God, what do they want?” Julie wailed.
He peeked through the side windows and saw the two women throwing their entire bodies into the door. They didn't even attempt t
o use the handle; it's like they were trying to use brute strength to break down the door or something.
“They must be high as a kite,” he said. “It's pretty dark out, but I think the blonde one has blood all over her.”
“Why don't you call your dad,” Julie suggested. “Maybe he can come over and get rid of them.”
He really didn't feel like talking to his father, but she had a point. What good was having a dad on the police force if you couldn't use it to your advantage now and then? “Okay. You're right, I'll call him.”
He dialed his father's number and his Old Man answered on the fifth ring. “What is it, Tristan? I'm really busy right now.”
Yeah, right. The bakery was probably selling off its baked goods at half price at the end of the day. “Hey, um, Dad. This is gonna sound strange, but I'm at Julie's house and these two girls are like beating on the front door trying to get in. I think they're high.”
“Don't you dare open that door! Something is happening at the school too. People are attacking each other and… Tristan, the dead are getting back up and attacking people. Hold on.” Tristan could here muffled conversation and then, “Sit tight. I'll be there in a few minutes and get rid of those two. Then you need to go home and get Gertrude and your mother out of town. Do you understand me?”
“Uh, yeah, Dad. Is it really that bad?”
“It’s worse than you could imagine… Son, I love you.”
Tristan didn’t know what to say. It had been years since his father told him that. “Okay, Dad. Please hurry, these girls are really freaking us out,” he answered and hung up the phone.
Julie watched him expectantly. “My dad’s on the way. He said something strange was happening at the school too, something about people attacking each other.”
