The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel

by Edward P. Cardillo

  Holbrook cracked an ironic smile and quickly wiped it off of his face. “What you two chuckleheads don’t realize is that you weren’t spying on a prostitution ring.”

  Frankie sat up in his chair, and Ted leaned forward in his. “What do you mean?” asked Frankie. “The pimp came running in with a gun and almost killed Officer Pike.”

  “That wasn’t a pimp,” said Pike from behind them.

  “So what the hell was he?” asked Ted. “A terrorist?”

  Holbrook sat back in his chair. “What you two did was stumble upon an identity theft ring.”

  “What?” said both boys simultaneously.

  “They were lifting credit card numbers, PIN numbers, you name it, from the wireless in the hotels all around them and selling the stolen information. We believe this leads all the way back to the Russian mob. The FBI has been contacted and will be taking over the investigation.”

  “So, you mean we’re heroes?” asked Frankie in utter disbelief.

  Holbrook rolled his eyes and sighed, as if the next words out of his mouth were going to literally cause him pain. “While it is true that you both saved Officer Pike’s life and assisted him in arresting an armed perpetrator,” Frankie and Ted both smiled at this, “you both could’ve gotten yourself killed. In the future, it would be wiser to call us if you see anything else suspicious or out of place in Smuggler’s Bay. Understood?”

  Both boys nodded.

  “When do you go away to school?”

  “Three weeks, sir,” said Ted.

  “I’m staying local,” said Frankie.

  Holbrook sighed in exasperation. “Do try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the summer. Now, if you don’t mind, I have other business to attend to.”

  That was their cue to leave. Both boys stood as Pike held the door open for them. They nodded to Pike, who nodded in response, and they left the office.

  “That was close!” said Frankie.

  “Too close,” said Ted. “Let’s just skate from now on. We’ve both got school coming up.” He saw his parents waiting for him. They looked both concerned and angry. Great.

  “I’ll catch you later,” said Frankie, who bolted out of the police station, waving quickly at Ted’s parents.

  They only glared back. They knew Frankie well, and they knew this whole mess was likely his idea.

  It was always his idea.

  Ted felt like a dead man walking as he stepped over to his parents. They looked like they were both going to ream him out publically in the middle of the police station when Ted felt a hand on his right shoulder. He turned around.

  It was Officer Pike.

  “Ted, I just want to thank you again for saving my life.”

  This stopped both of Ted’s parents in their tracks. Their outraged expressions melted away and were replaced with what could only be shock and awe.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Salvatori, I’d like to apologize because this was largely my fault. I was in the process of arresting a perpetrator, and I lost control of the situation. The perp was armed and resisted arrest. He tried to kill me, but your son and his friend were both walking by and saw what was happening, and they came to my assistance.

  “I know they both should’ve called for help instead of interceding in a dangerous situation, but to be honest, if they didn’t intercede, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”

  Both of Ted’s parents looked at Ted in utter disbelief.

  “Well, I’m glad something was finally done about that eyesore,” said Mr. Salvatori. “We’ve all kind of suspected there was something going on at the Morning Star.”

  “And we’re certainly glad nothing happened to you,” added Mrs. Salvatori quickly. “We’ve always taught our son to do the right thing, Officer.”

  Pike nodded solemnly. “Well, thanks again, Ted. I’ll see you around.”

  Pike left the police station, and Ted was left alone with his parents. He still wasn’t sure if he was out of the woods quite yet.

  “Well, let’s go get something to eat and put this all behind us,” said his father.

  His mother put her arm around him, and they all walked out of the police station together. Crisis averted. Ted smiled to himself. Officer Pike wasn’t such a hard-on after all.

  Things were different between them after that.

  ***

  “Hey there, headbangers, it’s Johnny Wong bringing you the best in hard rock and heavy metal at the Shore. Another boiling hot day in this August heat wave, and there’s still no relief in sight. Smuggler’s Bay has been experiencing rolling blackouts. You know what that means, folks, no air conditioning.

  “But, the temperature isn’t the only thing heating up in Smuggler’s Bay. Police raided the Morning Star Hotel earlier today and made some arrests. Residents say that shots were fired, but Chief Holbrook went on the record saying that no one was hurt, except an identity thief who sustained a gunshot wound to her shoulder; she’s expected to make a full recovery. Chief Holbrook, one. Bad Guys, zilch.

  “Just another day in the pressure cooker. Here’s Into the Fire by Dokken.”

  The blazing sun was now drifting in the West as the day was winding down. Mario was in his back office placing orders and managing inventory on his laptop, his little wall unit spitting out cool air. Marie was at the register.

  Mario couldn’t get his mother’s roommate out of his head. She was like a monster. He was overcome with pangs of guilt for leaving his mother in such a place.

  He couldn’t stand it any longer. The heat was getting to him. His mother was getting to him. He stood, flung the door to his little office open, and walked up to the register.

  Marie was bagging some tee-shirts she had just rung up for a couple of teenage boys. She handed the bags to the boys and smiled. “Thank you.”

  She saw Mario standing there with a worried expression on his red face, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

  “What’s wrong, hon?”

  “I’m not sure I should be leaving Ma in that place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I-I don’t know if that’s the best place for her.”

  “Why, because of that woman? Her roommate?”

  “Jesus, Marie, who knows who else she’s trapped in there with?”

  “Oh, she’ll be fine. That place has nurses everywhere.”

  “What if they can’t get to her in time?”

  Marie knew where this was going. They’d been down this road before. “We can’t take care of her, Mario.”

  “Why not? I’ll run the store.”

  Marie put her hands up. “There’s no way I’m waiting on Mama Sophia hand-and-foot. She hates me.”

  “Okay, so then you’ll run the store, and I’ll watch her.”

  “And what if there’s an emergency? What will you do that a nursing home can’t?”

  “I’ll be there, so I’ll know right away if she needs help. I can call 9-1-1.”

  “So, what, you’re going to stay in the house with your mother all day and night? Mario, we have a store to run. We have two children.”

  “It’ll be good for Ma to be around her grandchildren. It’ll be good for them, too.”

  “We talked about this before. This is not possible. She’s in a good place where she’s well taken care of.”

  Mario, his blood pressure rising, pointed an accusatory finger at his wife. “You actually like that she’s in that place, don’t you? You never liked my mother.”

  “How dare you? She hated me from the moment she met me. I’ve done nothing but reach out to her to try to show her I care. I take pretty damned good care of her precious son, too. But she’d never say so.”

  Mario saw a flash of movement over Marie’s shoulder. It was a kid. He reached up to one of the mannequins and pulled its tube top down.

  “Hey! Stop, you little punk!”

  The kid saw Mario and took off down the boardwalk.

  “Mario, what is it?” asked Marie,
startled.

  “It’s that punk kid! I got him,” shouted Mario as he ran around her and out of the store.

  He saw the kid dashing away, weaving between pedestrians, nearly knocking over a baby carriage. Bastard. He had a good lead on Mario, but Mario was pissed off.

  He pumped his fat legs as hard as he could, panting in the heat. His eyes didn’t have enough time to adjust to the brightness outside. Tourists jumped out of his way as he collided with a garbage can, knocking it over and spilling hot, stinking garbage on the boardwalk.

  “I got you, you little punk!”

  The kid was putting more and more distance between him and Mario. He looked back and saw the hefty man struggling, so he slowed to a stop.

  Mario was about to give up. His heart was beating out of his chest. His body couldn’t take it, and he knew it. He looked up at the kid as he clutched his chest.

  He saw the kid, and the kid knew he had been seen. Mario wouldn’t forget that face. Not in a million years.

  The sun suddenly became brighter, whitewashing his vision as his heart pulverized the inside of his chest, beating faster and faster. Mario felt pain everywhere…

  Marie ran down the boardwalk and found her husband lying face down on the boardwalk. There was a crowd of tourists around him. A couple of them were on their cell phones. A couple were pointing the cameras in their phones at him, taking video.

  “Somebody call 9-1-1!” Marie shouted. She got down on her knees next to her husband. “Oh, Mario!”

  Officer Breslin pushed her way through the crowd. She saw Marie kneeling next to Mario. She grabbed her radio. “Eleven forty-one. I need a med-evac from the boardwalk.”

  ***

  It was the end of his shift, and Mike Brunello was about to knock-off. He passed the reigns of the carousel over to Randy and waved goodbye to the children bobbing up and down on their wooden horses.

  He didn’t want to, but he felt compelled to make a stop past Nancy’s office on his way out. At his age he knew right was right, and he felt that she should know about Mario.

  He saw the light on in her office, and her door was cracked open. He girded his loins and knocked firmly on the cracked wood warped from decades of ocean air.

  “Come in,” he heard from inside.

  Mike pushed the door open and saw Nancy at her desk working on her ledger. Most business owners in this day and age had computers that did this sort of thing, but Nancy was old school, like him, but for different reasons.

  Mike was too old to start learning how to use smart phones and tablets and such. Nancy, on the other hand, enjoyed putting sharpened pencil to paper, accounting for every red cent in the black. She didn’t enjoy automation. It took her out of touch with her precious dollars. Most business owners hated bookkeeping. For Nancy, like any other bitter old miser, it was her favorite pastime.

  “What is it, Mike? I’m busy.”

  “I wanted to tell you about Mario Russo, you know, who owns the clothing shop with Marie up the boardwalk. He had a heart attack yesterday.”

  “So, what do you want me to do about it?”

  “I was just going to drop by their house on the way home and pay a visit to Marie and the kids. See how they’re doing and all.”

  “I can’t get away, not even for a moment, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she replied rather tersely.

  “Well, I just figured you’d want to know and that you might call Marie or send something over to the house. Mario’s one of us.”

  Nancy looked up from her accounting. “Well, you be a good boy and send them my condolences.”

  Mike looked down at Nancy, considering this woman who employed him. He hadn’t actually expected much, so he wasn’t sure why he felt so disappointed.

  “Will that be all?” she asked impatiently.

  “I guess it’ll have to do,” said Mike. He turned and left the arcade.

  As he walked up the boardwalk, the orange ball of flame in the sky receding toward the horizon, he looked over at Marco’s Pizzeria. Vinnie was working.

  Mike strolled over to the counter, skillfully evading lanes of tourist foot traffic, and waved to Vinnie. Vinnie looked up from ringing a young family up and smiled. He gave the man his change and slid four plain slices on thin white paper plates across the glass countertop. The man handed two slices to his wife, grabbed two, and the whole family went inside to find a seat in the air conditioning.

  “Another damned hot day,” said Mike. “I don’t know how you can stand it next to those ovens.”

  Vinnie wiped his brow with his forearm and wiped his hands on his stained white apron. His face glistened with sweat. “They say the heat wave’s going to break tomorrow.”

  “Here’s to hoping, kid.”

  “What’ll ya have, Mike?”

  “Nah. Nothing. Going to pay Marie Russo and the kids a visit.”

  “Yeah, I heard about what happened. Poor guy. Right in the middle of the boardwalk and all.”

  “And right at the end of season. The home stretch. Marie didn’t need this. I don’t know who’s watching the store.”

  “It was closed today,” said Vinnie.

  “Well, I guess the kids are with her.”

  “Hey, send them over a pie, on the house,” said Vinnie.

  Mike smiled at his young friend. Perhaps there was hope for people after all. “That’s mighty decent of you, Vin. Will your father be okay with that?”

  “Yeah. He’s friends with Mr. Russo. It’s no problem. Just hold on a sec.”

  Mike stepped aside and watched man, woman, and child stroll by, eating cotton candy and ice cream, laughing, pointing at the various boardwalk fare. Smuggler’s Bay kept Mike young. When he went to work day today, he would forget how old he was.

  Mario Russo’s heart attack was a stark reminder of Mike’s age and mortality, two things he cared not to dwell on for too long.

  Vinnie returned moments later, sliding a pizza box across the countertop. “Tell them I said I’m sorry about what happened to Mr. Russo.”

  Mike grabbed the box and smiled. “Will do.”

  “This has been one crazy summer,” said Vinnie, looking at the foot traffic on the boardwalk. “The heat wave, rolling blackouts, Mr. Russo. Hey, did you hear about Frankie and Ted?”

  Mike shook his head in disapproval. “Someone needed to do something about that Morning Star. I suppose it might as well have been them.”

  “Yeah, but we all thought it was prostitutes. Ended up it was an identity theft ring, run by the Russian mob, no less.”

  Another harsh reminder that things change. Mike sighed. “Well, I never liked all of this foreign exchange stuff. Importing kids to work as cheap labor in The Bay. They’re outsiders. They’re wild and they have no investment in this community.” He smirked. “Plus, they take away jobs from old folk like me.”

  “Nothing stays the same,” said Vinnie. “You know that.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you’re working your ass off to restore that Mustang I gave you?”

  Vinnie looked pensive. “I’m going to miss you, Mike.”

  “Ah, hell. You’re going off to college. It’ll be the time of your life. You’d be crazy to miss me. I’ll be here when you come back on break.”

  There was an awkward silence between the two friends. The truth was, Mike was going to miss Vinnie like crazy.

  “Well, I’d better run this pizza over to the Russo’s. You taking Dharma out tonight?”

  “Yeah. I knock off in a half an hour.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  “Okay, Mike.”

  Mike strolled up the remainder of the boardwalk with the aroma of freshly cooked dough, sauce, and cheese wafting into his nostrils. He got off at Grant Avenue and walked the two blocks to the Russo residence.

  He opened the gate with one hand and stepped up to the door. He pressed his finger on the doorbell and waited as he heard the chimes inside the house. He heard the two children stirring and footste
ps approach the door.

  The front door opened, and Marie smiled when she saw Mike. “Mike, how are you?” She opened the screen door. “Please, come in.”

  Mike stepped inside. “Well, I can only stay for a moment.” That was his way of saying he didn’t want to impose. “I heard about Mario.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Marie solemnly.

  “Is he all right?” Mike saw Salvatore and Alessandra watching him from the kitchen. He waved, balancing the pizza box on his hip. They smiled and waved back. They knew Mike from the carousel.

  “Oh, how rude of me,” said Marie. “Can I take that from you?”

  “It’s for you all, for dinner.”

  “Oh, Mike, you didn’t have to.”

  “It’s from Vinnie and Marco Cantone. They send their condolences. Vinnie figured you guys could use this.”

  “Oh, he’s such a thoughtful boy. Marco’s been to the hospital already.”

  “How is Mario doing?”

  “The doctors said he’ll be all right, but he has to rest, and he has to change his diet. I’ve been telling him this for years, but he never listens to me.”

  “Well, I bet you’ll have his attention now.”

  Marie stepped into the kitchen, and Mike followed.

  “Mr. Brunello brought us a pizza for dinner.”

  “Yay!” the kids shouted and immediately took their seats at the table.

  “Ah!” said Marie. “Not until you wash your hands.”

  Salvatore and Alessandra scattered, dashing to the bathroom.

  “This was really good timing,” said Marie, flipping the box lid open. “We just got back from the hospital, and I wasn’t even thinking about dinner.” She put her hand over her mouth as a tear streamed down her cheek.

  Mike went over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You’re doing everything you can for Mario, and you have to stay strong for your kids. They need you. They’re confused by all of this, and they’re looking to you to make everything okay.”

  Marie sniffled loudly and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t know if everything is going to be okay.”