APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead (19 page)

The two brothers were polar opposites and Thomas secretly hated his pompous blowhard of an older brother. Outwardly though, he painted on that plaster cast smile as he listened to his brother spew out his little sermons of integrity, morals, Jesus and getting an education ‘
Because you are never too old to go to school, Tommy.’
  Thomas' blood would boil as his brother tousled his hair at the end of these little lectures, like he was a five year old, but Thomas would force out his contagious laugh that was every bit as false as his teeth were.

Thomas would bide his time; he would wait. Doing time had taught him the values of patience, waiting and then seizing the opportunity when it presented itself.

It was no surprise to anyone that when the dead rose up and began to run amok that the golden boy got down on his knees and gave a quick prayer to Jesus, strapped-up in his pretty blue suit with its shiny silver stars on its epaulets and offered his services to the Dayton Police Department like he was fucking Batman or something. Thomas just shook his head, amazed at how many people bought into his older brother's bullshit. But what
was
a surprise, especially to the D.P.D., was that Two-Time Tommy rode with him.

Thomas figured that at the very least he could vent out some frustrations and legally get away with shooting people in the face. He hoped he saw some people lumbering around town that he had known and hated, groaning and drooling down their chins. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he thought about giving a quick double tap into his seventh grade history teacher’s face or his parole officer, that would be the cat’s ass.

Trevor’s government vehicle was a brand spanking new, black Crown Victoria, plush and loaded, the heater and heated seats efficiently removed the chill from the winter air.

“Thanks for coming with me, little brother,” said the General, as he steered the car through the littered and burning wrecks along the way. The P.D. had equipped the Crown Vic with a magnetic light bar and siren that wailed above them. Evidently, the
cops had been keeping track of the hometown hero and admired him greatly.

The dead were beginning to swarm, but the General paid no heed to the dead.

“I’ve always wanted to do some good deeds alongside of you, man,” replied Thomas in a buttery tone, concealing the sarcastic envy of its intent.
Eat shit you arrogant prick.
He smoothed his prematurely gray hair that was in need of a cutting with the palm of his right hand.

“Have you ever used a gun before?” asked Trevor, with a bit of concern etched on his profile.

“Yeah, I used to do a lot of hunting,” Thomas lied.
You must not have seen my rap sheet, did you, Genius?

Trevor nodded. “Hunting is good, but shooting animals is a little different than shooting a person.”

“Well, they
are
already dead, so it shouldn’t be that difficult” said Thomas with a hearty laugh.
Trust me I know how to shoot people.

“Tommy, we still need to have respect for the dead,” admonished his older brother who quickly crossed himself.

Really, is that necessary? 
“Sorry, man,” said Thomas, placating his brother.
Dick.

“I know. You’re probably just nervous,” conceded the elder, and then added, “Look under the seat.”

Thomas reached down between his legs and felt with his fingers beneath the passenger seat and pulled out a plastic box.

“Go ahead and open it. It’s for you,” said the general, glancing to his right.

Thomas clicked open the two latches and opened it. Inside rested a Beretta 9mm with two loaded thirteen round magazines.

“I’ve already got my Glock,” reassured the general, patting his side arm affectionately.

Thomas jammed a magazine into the grip, jerked the slide back, letting it slam forward; chambering a round in the pipe. He then eased the hammer forward as he depressed the trigger and clicked the safety on. He tucked the pistol behind his belt buckle and slipped the remaining magazine into the right hand pocket of his Carhartt coat.

The older brother gave him an appraising glance of, approval. “You look like a pro, little brother, and from the looks of things, I am thanking Jesus for it.”

You have no idea
. “Thanks, man,” Thomas replied then added “Just what exactly are we looking for anyway?”

“People who need help,” said the General incredulously, as if the answer couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Wouldn’t it help them if we shot some of these dead things wandering all around us?” asked the younger brother.

Trevor sighed. “We only have a small amount of ammunition.” He gestured at the view before them with a sweep of his hand above the steering wheel. “Look at how many there are. They are becoming more and more while we are becoming less and less. For now, all we can do that makes any sense is to save those in danger and wait it out together.”

“Is that why you left Ma at home by herself?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” retorted Thomas. “You were in such a Jesus loving frenzy to get out here and be a big shot that you left your own mother
alone
to defend her home against an enemy that gets
more and more
,” he chided in a mocking tone.

“I…”

“Yeah, you. With you it’s always me, me, me,” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“We don’t have time for this, Tommy,” said Trevor sternly, his expression hard. He hit the brakes and the Crown Victoria slid to a halt. He pointed at the Emergency entrance to Our Lady of Hope hospital, “That girl needs our help,” he said, slamming the gear selector in park.

Thomas pulled the pistol from his belt, his heart was racing. He watched through the windshield as three of the undead converged on a hysterical, pregnant teenage girl.

“Are you ready?” asked the General, before taking a deep breath and crossing himself again. He looked at his brother beside him.

Thomas squeezed the trigger and shot Trevor just above his right eye; the back side of the General’s head exploded through the glass of the driver’s side window. Instantly the cold converged inside the car and a torrent of blood flowed from the dead man’s nose and mouth in pouring cascades of red, soaking his uniform and the ribbons adorning his chest.

“Yeah, I’m ready you stupid dick.”

The General’s body stayed upright for a second then slammed sideways into the steering wheel. Thomas reached over and unbuckled his brother’s pistol belt and yanked it from around his waist and slung it over his shoulder. He exited the passenger side, shot the three zombies, looked at the pregnant girl and shooed her away. He walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. He unbuckled the seat belt and unceremoniously shoved his brother’s body over. Trevor’s body fell sideways and Thomas pushed the legs over out of his way. Through his still ringing ears, he could hear the
pop, pop, pop
of gunfire and the muted sirens whining their escalating drone in the distance as he slid behind the wheel. Out of habit, he picked the wallet from his brother’s back pocket and pulled out a handful of bills.
Jesus saves, but the Devil invests,
he thought as he stuffed the bills into his coat pocket.

Thomas smiled that politician’s grin of his and admired it in the rear view mirror. Chaos was good. He knew that he would land on his feet; he always did. He looked down on the twitching corpse of his brother, “Look Ma, no head,” he mocked.

Thinking of his mother he knew that he should hurry; he needed to get back to her and make sure she was alright.

   
Chapter 16 - Special Delivery

St. Mary’s Hospital

Point Pleasant
, West Virginia 

Doris Flannigan concentrated on her boyfriend’s face as he carried her through the emergency room doors. Joe Flores’ face was stretched tight with tension, his jaw set and clenching while
Doris’ bright green eyes rested on his, in complete trust of his strength and determination. Joe had earned at least that much.

Doris
had met him at his family’s restaurant, where he worked full time; she had been a month pregnant and recently abandoned by her husband Kyle. Joe had taken her order and had immediately been taken with those unique, bright, green eyes and her flaming Irish red hair. He hadn’t cared that she was pregnant, only that she was single, which had been enough encouragement for him. They had dated for a few months and he found that her strict catholic upbringing had forbid her from having sex before marriage, but that didn’t matter to him either. She was worth the wait and, after all, he was a professional waiter; besides, he had also grown up in a catholic home and knew the pressures surrounding that type of situation. He had a good family name to uphold and the last thing he wanted to do was soil that reputation.

The emergency room was a mad house and a virtual abattoir, where people lined the walls, shouting at each other in a panic stricken state; they screamed for help, some sobbing uncontrollably; but all in need. Blood trails streaked the black and white tiles of the marble floor; a wheeled mop bucket stood with the mop sticking out of it and Joe noticed that the water within the dingy yellow container was thick and red. Joe had been reasonably sure that he had seen at least three people lying unmoving on the floor, most likely dead, judging by the large pools of blood surrounding them.

“Help!” he yelled in his deep baritone voice.

“Hey you!” he heard from behind him. Joe spun around and faced a bearded biker type. “You ain’t cuttin’ in front of the line.”

“My girl is having a baby,” Joe explained impatiently.

“I don’t give a damn about your girl; my son got bit by one of those psychos out there,” said the biker, thumbing to the window.

Joe shook his head and turned back to the reception window. He felt sorry for the man and his son, but Doris and the baby was his priority. He saw that there was no nurse on duty at the desk so he scanned the signs that were hanging from the ceiling and spotted one that read Maternity Ward. He felt the front of his jeans suddenly become wet and looked down at Doris, who was breathing in quick breathes.

“My water… just broke…”
Doris panted.

Joe spotted an empty wheel chair facing the wall down the long hallway and rushed her toward it.

“Hey, you!” he heard from behind him and recognized the voice as that of the bikers. He made it to the chair and heard the fast footfalls of the biker closing in from behind and Joe eased Doris into the chair just as he felt a large hand grab the collar of his white shirt and yank him backward.

He turned and saw a fist coming straight toward his face. He feinted left and reflexively countered with his own right hand, his fist connecting with the biker’s nose with a horrific crunching sound. Blood instantly saturated the biker’s mustache and poured over his lips, covering his bearded chin. The man clutched at his face with one of his beefy hands.

“You sonofabitch…you broke my nose!”

“Maybe you should go and sit down before I break something else,” muttered Joe.

“Fuck you!” spat the biker already defeated.  Joe could see it in the man’s face as the biker turned and walked back to where his son sat shivering violently. Joe knew he wouldn’t have any more trouble with him.

Joe turned back to
Doris. “Remind me not to make you mad, Joe Flores,” she said admiringly between breaths.

Joe smiled and winked at her. “Yeah, let that be a lesson to you,” Joe said with a wry grin and then clutched the handles behind the wheelchair and sprinted down the hallway, pushing the chair.

“You’d better run, you pussy!” he heard from the biker who now sounded like he had a terrible head cold. Joe didn’t respond. Doris came before his pride. He wheeled her into an open elevator; blood was streaked on the walls and floors of it. The light inside the vacant car kept dimming and flickering with a disconcerting electrical sound. Joe debated for a moment whether to use it or not, before pushing the number three on the wall beside the door.

To Joe’s relief the elevator rose smoothly to the third floor, lurched to a stop and the doors slid open, but halted halfway. Joe pried the doors open wide enough to push the wheelchair through and out into another hallway. He stopped again and scanned the unexplored area.

The fluorescent lights blinked and buzzed and he heard yelling and screaming that made him think that he might have stopped on the mental ward floor. He hadn’t been certain that taking Doris to the hospital had been the right decision from the start and now he was absolutely sure that he should have taken her to his parent’s house; his mother Rosa, would have known what to do.

Cautiously, he wheeled her down the hall, prepared to defend Doris and the unborn baby with his life, if need be.

“Joe…the baby…is coming…” Doris cried in a labored voice.

“Alright, baby…” he didn’t know what else to say. Suddenly a white uniformed nurse burst into the hallway and barreled toward them.

“Get out! Oh God, get out!” the nurse screamed frantically at them.

From behind her three men and two women staggered from the room she had exited; they saw the newcomers and lurched in rapid jerking steps toward.  Joe gave a quick study of their faces. Blood was smeared all over their cheeks and chins and dripped down the front of their clothes.

The nurse tried to rush past them into the waiting elevator, but Joe grabbed her by the arm

“Let me go!” she cried miserably through her tears, “they’ll kill me…”

Joe shoved the nurse into the first opened room and thrust Doris in behind her before he turned and locked the wide, heavy, wooden door. He wasn’t sure the lock would hold; it appeared to be built more for privacy than security. Joe shoved a dresser in front of the door to block it and he turned back to Doris and helped her onto the bed.

“The baby is coming and you are going to deliver it!” he ordered the nurse, pointing a finger in her face for emphasis.

“I…” she began, and then started to shiver violently. Joe slapped her hard across the face leaving a red welt, and then grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do your damn job.”

She seemed to regain some composure and her training began to exert itself. She shot Joe an angry look and he nodded in approval.
Anger is better,
he thought.

Doris
screamed from the bed. “It’s coming Joe!”

The nurse bent to
Doris and removed her panties from under the maternity dress. Joe could see that her hands were still shaking but she seemed to have enough focus to do what she was trained for.

“OK, honey, the baby is coming right now. I need you to give me a good push.”

Doris screamed and Joe heard the groans and guttural calls from the hallway. Something slammed against the door with a boom. The nurse looked nervously at Joe.

“We’re OK,” he said reassuringly and strode to an I.V. stand and broke the metal pole from the wheels and took a position between the women and the door.

The door boomed again, harder this time, and from behind him, Joe heard Doris scream again. As she did the guttural sounds beyond the door grew louder, more urgent and the door boomed again, again and again echoing like explosions through the closed off room.

“The head’s out, honey, now give me one more hard push,” said the nurse with a wavering voice.

Doris screamed again and the nurse pulled the baby free. She wrapped the baby in a white blanket and whispered to Doris. “It’s a boy.” The nurse looked back toward Joe, wondering what would transpire next in this little kidnapping.

Doris
began crying and held her hands out to hold her son for the first time.

The door suddenly cracked open, breaking through the weak lock and slammed against the dresser. Joe ran forward and began thrusting the metal rod at the intruding hands
, but they kept pushing. The sharp metal cut their hands, two fingers were severed from one of the hands, but the hands didn’t recoil as they kept pushing. More hands appeared in the crack, pressing the door into the heavy dresser and opening slowly further.  Joe braced himself at the end of the dresser and yelled for the nurse.

“Help me!”

The nurse nodded apprehensively and handed the baby to Doris. She moved to stand beside Joe, pushing back against the dresser. He saw a shoulder emerge from the crack.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” said Joe as the dresser slid backward inch by inch. He pushed harder, his face red with straining, but still the dresser crept inward in incremental lurches. He looked at the nurse. “Get Doris and the baby, and lock yourselves in the bathroom,” he told her.

The nurse ran back to Doris and helped her to her feet, and although the new mother’s feet slid on the afterbirth she didn’t fall as she staggered away.

“Go!” Joe screamed as the dresser was pushed further back, and he saw one of the doctor’s torsos squeeze through. The doctor clawed at the air with a mindless growl.

Joe began to sob heavily, knowing he was failing, and then the dresser lurched forward enough for the doctor to scramble into the room and he fell on top of Joe. Another one followed and fell on him too, and Joe watched in horror as their jaws dislocated before him, and then they slammed shut, one on Joe’s shoulder and one on his forearm. “GO!!!” he screamed at Doris.

“Joe…” she cried as the nurse grabbed her under the arm and began pulling her to the bathroom.

Another lifeless doctor and the two equally deceased nurses entered the room, their jaws snapping open and shut with violent force as they clamored over the dresser for Doris. She looked at Joe, the light had extinguished from his eyes and blood pooled beneath his unresponsive form. The only movement that came from him was when one of the doctors clamped their jaws down on him and shook him violently, like a shark, ripping ribbons of flesh from his bones.

The nurse gave up on
Doris and darted to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut behind her and Doris heard the click. Doris didn’t move. She couldn’t.

“Joe,” she whispered, and she watched as the whites of his eyes swam with red and those dark brown eyes that she loved to lose herself in became a milky white. The doctors stood clumsily and she watched in amazement and shock as Joe stood as well.

Doris held her free hand out to Joe while clutching the baby to her breast with the other, her chin trembling with emotion.

The doctors and nurses converged on
Doris, their jaws; locking open wide then slamming shut like bear traps on her flesh. Joe walked forward and looked at her for a moment and she thought there was recognition there, but then Joe grabbed the newborn from her arms, the umbilical cord still attached, and brought it up to his face to sniff it.

She watched in horror as Joe opened wide those jaws and then slammed them shut on a chubby leg.

She heard the baby cry out; he had healthy lungs on him, and that was good, wasn’t it? Then she heard no more until she woke up dead and felt nothing but a hatred and hunger.

             
                                 
Chapter 17 - The Maiming of the Shrew

Waynesburg, Pennsylvania 

Whispering Willows Apartments

             
Hito finished screwing plywood over the windows of their apartment with a cordless drill until the batteries were spent. The power had been out for about six hours and he was amazed at how this plague had spread so quickly. The news on his emergency radio had repeated over and over that survivors were not to go outside, but rather to hide until the crisis had passed. Unfortunately, the crisis within his own home seemed just as bad to him and he wondered if outside could be any worse.