Zombie Fallout Page 26

  I was leaning forward stretching my arm as far as it would go, wishing I would become one of my favorite childhood toys, Stretch Armstrong. If I remember correctly it didn’t end well for him either, green goo everywhere. I shuddered. I had my left arm straight out in front of me, my right arm gripping the rifle like a vise, and my head swiveling like a top between the entryway and the floor. When I looked away, I felt my neck was dangerously exposed, not that it mattered to these zombies. They would just as soon chew into my smelly feet. That was not a comforting thought. My hand scraped against the edge of the gun barrel. Heartbeat after heartbeat I desperately tried to grip the gun. I turned my head to better locate my quarry and all hell broke loose. A loud sound came from the bathroom. I pushed myself off to the left, falling over and hitting the far wall. Hands gripped around my neck. The rifle was useless, the barrel sticking out farther than my assailant. I pulled the trigger anyway hoping the noise would scare it away. Nothing! The safety was on! My fingers frantically scrambled for the selector lever. The grip around my neck was making starbursts in my eyes.

  “I’m sick of passing out!” I screamed.

  My hand came off my useless weapon at the same time the pressure on my carotid artery loosened. I reached my hands up to my neck, and felt nothing except the nylon of my rifle sling. In my panic I had cinched it tight. The noise whooshed again from the bathroom. This time my rationality took over and I knew the sound for what it was. The toilet bowl was leaky and would periodically have to refill itself. “What is wrong with me? I could make a whole ‘America’s Funniest Home Fuck-Ups’ episode,” I laughed a little to ease my inner tension. A few more jolts to the heart like this and I was bound to spring a leak somewhere. I sat on the floor and readjusted my rifle. With pistol in right hand I placed my left on the floor to assist in my ascent. It was then that I felt the slow heavy vibrations emanating up through the floor. I have to be a sadist. Why I didn’t think I had had enough I’ll never know. I knew the sound for what it was, club music. I had a neighbor that loved that techno crap. He played it morning, noon and night until I had a long talk with him. It was actually a short talk but it was a long barrel. I told him I was going skeet shooting, but that my wife was sleeping and if he could keep it down I’d appreciate it. His head nodded at all the right times but his eyes never left the steely black barrel. Never did have to go over there again. In fact, he moved out the next month. Hope it wasn’t anything I said.

  What do I care if there is some other yahoo in this world that likes techno music, I need to get out of here. I knew all about ‘The Make My Day Law.’ I voted for it. So far I had broken into his house, damaged his property and let his dog go. I’m sure he wasn’t going to invite me in to his party. I opened the door to the basement. All of my senses were assaulted. Now I knew why there was no light on the main floor. Everything he owned was in the basement. Light flooded like a supernova. The music (if you want to call it that) was eardrum shatteringly loud. In the worst of my Heavy Metal loving days I had never turned Iron Maiden on half as loud, and to top it off I had found the origins of the stench that pervaded this abode. Every cell in my body protested forward motion and yet into the light I went. I checked and rechecked that I had a bullet in the chamber and the safety was off, even though I knew Glocks don’t have an external safety. I instinctively knew I was going to need bullets, again with the psychic crap. I had no clue but this felt wrong, and for good or bad I was going to find out.

  The basement was finished, for that I was thankful. It meant that my descent down would go unnoticed. Otherwise, there would be that time of exposure where only my legs would be visible from below as I went down the stairs. Then like a cheap horror flick, there would always be the potential of a hand coming up through the openings in the stairs to grab my ankles. This should have made me feel better but it didn’t. My eyes were having a difficult time adjusting from soul sucking black to radiant dawn white. I found myself excessively squinting. Then I began to ponder why there wasn’t some form of ‘squinting’ for ears, the better to shield me from the crap coming over his speaker system. As I neared the bottom step I saw tiny moving reflections of light somehow brighter than the ambient lighting. I had seen this before. It was from a disco ball. Well, out of the frying pan and into the fire. I stepped onto the landing at the bottom of the stairs and then cautiously peered into the main room of the basement. At one time this was a playroom for kids. Video games, board games, and a rocking horse were carefully stacked in the far corner of the room, but that was not the case anymore. It was a playroom allright, but one with far more sinister games and only the highly deranged played in here anymore.

  Attached to the floor with five large chains was a naked female zombie. There was one chain on each wrist, one around its neck and one each wrapped around its knees. These were then bolted to the floor with large screws. It was chained in the classic doggy position, but the situation was about to get stranger. On the opposite side of the room a man came out of a bathroom fully dressed in a form-fitting cat costume, face make-up and all. He had yet to notice me, so intent was he on his impending conquest. He walked around the zombie alternating between stroking her and slapping her. She moved her head as best she could to get at him but he had placed the chains with strategic precision. I didn’t think this was the first time he’d used this set-up. After his third or fourth time around he stopped behind her. I didn’t need to be the Amazing Kreskin to figure out what was going to happen next.

  I fired a round into the ceiling. That got his attention. He spun around almost as fast as the animal he was portraying. He was preparing to pounce on his intruder but the cold black muzzle of a 9-millimeter made him reconsider. He walked over to his stereo system and lowered it somewhat. I tracked him all the way expecting a ruse.

  He turned to face me, nervously licking his lips. I wouldn’t have thought it strange if he began to lick the backs of his hands next, this was one twisted person.

  “Want some?” he said invitingly, pointing to the zombie.

  At first I was too astounded to even consider his request. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “What? I’m just having a little fun. I’m not breaking any laws,” he smiled.

  “How about rape, false imprisonment, assault, fucken necrophilia.” I’m sure there were half a dozen others but I made my point.

  “She’s a fucken zombie, shithead!” he yelled.

  “There’s that too. You have to immediately let someone know when a zombie gets in. What if she had bit you?”

  “Not a problem.” His grin widened as he went back over to the zombie. He grabbed her head and bent it further back than seemed naturally possible. Her mouth was snapping, trying to get a hold of one or any of his fingers that were cradling her head. She had no teeth. They weren’t just broken out with the butt of a gun or a hammer, they were gone.

  “How?” I mouthed. I was feeling sicker by the second.

  “I knocked her out,” he said proudly. He saw my incredulous look. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be able to do it either. I tried ether first, that almost ended badly for me. Then I just whacked the hell out of the back of her head with a crowbar.”

  I wanted to ask why he had ether, but I already knew the answer.

  “As soon as I got my little pretty all chained up I took out all her teeth with a pair of pliers.” The sick shit was smiling, realizing the effect this was having on me. “It’s a good thing I got them all out too. There’s been a couple of times when we’ve really been going at it that I kind of lose control, and she’ll get a hold of a forearm or something. She tries like hell to break the surface, she’s a wild one alright,” he said as he affectionately stroked her hair. All the while she kept trying to bite that hand. “So we come back to the original question, want some?”

  I was revolted. My mouth hung open and I had let my gun hand fall to my side. Cat man, Fritzy, sick fuck, saw his opening. He sprang like a coiled snake. He was fast, almost unnaturally so, but h
e had to cover ten feet. All I had to do was raise my hand. I fired two rounds into his stomach just as his hands brushed up against mine. That contact repulsed me. I shuddered from the feel as his hands slid away from mine. The bullets had punched through, gut shot. I should have felt sorry for him. There was no more painful way to die. The zombie started pulling frenetically against her restraints. The smell of his spilling innards was driving her crazy.

  “Your suffering is over,” I said as I walked up to her and placed the muzzle of the barrel directly on her forehead. Her head snapped back as I delivered a round deep into her gray matter.

  Fritzy was laughing, it was a blood filled sound but it was a laugh nonetheless. “Oh you liked her huh?” he said laughing. “She was so good.” He was fighting through the pain, trying to hold his insides in place. “Umm, that cold pussy. She was so special. The others always lost the will to live after a little while but she was already dead.” He laughed again, and blood spilled from his mouth.

  I had to get out of here. My head was starting to spin from the smell of the zombie, the discharges, and the insanity issuing forward from Fritzy. The music, the lights, it was all too much. Vertigo was making my head swim. I fought to find a wall to lean against. My breath was coming out in raggedy gasps and still he laughed. I had my head and shoulder leaning against the wall as I pushed to the stairs and potential freedom from this ‘house of horrors.’

  Panic began to well up in Fritzy as he realized I was heading out. “You’re going to get help right?” he pleaded. “You can’t leave me like this,” he cried. Now the idiot was seeing the light. I don’t know if he was repenting or fearful his secret would be exposed. “Fuck you!” he shouted, spittle and blood flying forward. “Talbot!” he yelled. I stopped halfway on the landing, thankful that I had got this far. “Yeah I know who you are, the mighty Talbot. I’m only sad I never got a chance to get a hold of your lovely wife or maybe your dau...”

  I shot him in the head. Gouts of bile dispensed forth from my overworked stomach, so much for not leaving any DNA evidence. I staggered up and out of the house. The sun still shone brightly, the weather still felt cold, but I felt so different. This was another stain on my soul. I hope they have some version of soul Tide when you die. I walked through the gate and out onto the back alleyway, my thoughts running rampant. I was trying in vain to steer them anywhere but back to that denizen of death. But like trying not to think of a pink elephant, you get the point. I’m not exactly sure when Bear fell in next to me, probably the moment I left the small carport at the back of Fritzy’s house. All I knew was that my hand on his back was the most comforting feeling I had felt in a longtime. After the nightmare we’d both been through I think we were going to be co-dependent on each other for a while.

  CHAPTER 23

  Journal Entry - 20

  Tracy didn’t say a word when I walked in, my face sheet white, my Glock still out and my hand shaking. But she about had a coronary when my new friend padded in behind me.

  Tommy came running from the couch. “BEAR!” he yelled happily as he threw his arms around the dog. I don’t know if he knew the dog, yelled out what he thought it was or was expecting it ala Ryan Seacrest. When the dog started licking Tommy’s face, Tracy visibly relaxed.

  I walked upstairs, put my gun away, burned my hands clean under scalding water and laid down on my bed, boots and all. The knock on the door came a lot sooner than I had expected. I got up from the bed and stood at the top of the stairs as Tracy answered the door.

  “Hi Jed, want some coffee?” I heard her ask.

  “Is Mike here, Tracy?” Jed asked.

  “Jed, what’s going on? You look upset… and why are these two guards with you?”

  “I told them it wasn’t necessary but they insisted,” Jed answered.

  “Who insisted? What’s going on, Jed?” Tracy’s pitch began to elevate.

  I walked down the stairs. “Jed,” I said as I nodded. He nodded in reply. “He had it coming.”

  “Maybe so, Mike, but that wasn’t your call.”

  “Who had what coming? Mike, what is this all about?” Tracy was nervous, the situation was becoming volatile.

  “Mike, can you step outside?” Jed asked. I had never seen him so downtrodden. The guards tensed for action. Bear had padded up beside me and was bristling. A low menacing growl issued from him. One of the guards began to move his hands towards his sidearm; he was nervous. Couldn’t say I blamed him.

  I laid my hand on Bear’s neck, “It’s all right, boy.” The growling stopped, but the menacing posture didn’t. I brushed by Tracy, giving her arm a small squeeze. “I’ll be back,” I said to her.

  I opened the door, and was facing my small escort party. “Turn around, please,” one of the guards demanded. I was going to protest. I have a thing about authority but Tracy was rattled enough, I didn’t figure she needed to see me get beat down too.

  I felt the cold steel of the handcuffs close around my wrists, not for the first time, but it was the worst time.

  “Where are you taking him, Jed?” Tracy nearly sobbed.

  “The holding cell down at the clubhouse.” From his demeanor, Jed must have witnessed firsthand the scene at Fritz’ house. I could tell he fundamentally agreed with my handling of the situation, but laws were laws.

  The walk to the clubhouse was silent. I waited until I was in my ‘cell’ and the guards had gone before I talked with Jed.

  “He was a piece of shit, Jed!”

  “I know Talbot, I went over there. But you killed him, you broke into his house and killed the man.”

  “But he had kidnapped and was raping…” I stopped. What did it matter what he was doing to a zombie? If it had been a human girl I would be paraded around as a hero. “How bad is it Jed?”

  Jed’s head bowed, “A council was being set up to deal with Durgan and now they’ll be hearing your case too. Talbot, they’re talking about Capital Punishment.”

  My head snapped up. I wanted to scream to the heavens. “Oh that’s fair, my life for that piece of shit. I saw his set-up, this wasn’t the first time.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Jed solemnly answered. “We checked out the whole basement. He had a ‘trophy room’ full of pictures and other things,” Jed shuddered, “of all his other victims.”

  “They weren’t all zombies, right?” I grasped.

  “Not by a long shot.” Jed looked a little green around the gills.

  “But that’s not going to help me?” I asked downcast. Jed just shook his head.

  “I’ll be back in a little bit with some food.”

  “Don’t sweat it, it’ll be a long time before I’m ready to eat again.”

  “Me too,” Jed said as he retreated out of the holding area.

  “Welcome to Shangri-La,” Durgan said, as he sat up on his makeshift bed, then stood up with the assistance of a crutch.

  “Oh this day just keeps getting better and better,” I answered sarcastically. When I turned around I was face to belly button with one of the biggest men I had ever seen in my life. Even with only one leg he outweighed me by a hundred pounds, easily.

  “It looks like I’m going to make good on that promise I made,” his voice boomed from above.

  “What’s that? Not wearing white after Labor Day?”

  “No, you little fuck, killing you!”

  Did he think it was necessary to clarify himself? I saw no choice. My Marine Corps training clicked on. I pivoted sideways and struck out with my right foot as hard as was humanly possible and was rewarded with the audible pop of Durgan’s only knee being crushed backward. He fell in a heap. The only thing worse than Fritz’ thumping techno music were the shrieking wails of Durgan in blind blistering pain.

  The expletives he issued forth, while colorful, are too long and complicated for this narrative. Suffice it to say he left nothing to the imagination. He even had the audacity to include my grandmother in some of the more long-winded diatribes. If Durgan was going to kill me now,
he was going to have to start at my ankles. I hopped up onto the now empty bunk and watched detachedly as a medical team came in and took him away. I rolled over and immediately went to sleep. It had been a long day and I was bushed.

  Who ordered the Molotov cocktails, nobody knows. This is a small fact that will be forever lost in the annals of human history, should there be any humans to bear witness. Was it the result of some bored guards or the initiative of a defense tribunal? It doesn’t matter, the result would have been the same no matter who pulled the trigger. It was common knowledge the brain of the infected had to be destroyed in order to stop the zombie, what was not known was what effect fire would have. Could a zombie be cooked to the point where they would be inoperative? Somebody decided to find out. The result was disastrous.