Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (13 page)

The
scene cut to a reporter behind a desk.

“Headline!”
she said.
“Balloon castle an epic fail. Little girl's bus
pass revoked.”

Janice
saw me standing there in the doorway and tried to walk me back to
bed.

“You
have to rest, dear.”

“I'm
all right,” I said. I tried to smile, but even
that
hurt.

Janice
turned to Clair.

“Make
some tea?”

Clair
nodded and walked into the kitchen.

There
was a crash outside.

We
all froze.

Clair
put on her jacket.

“I'm
gonna go check it out,” she said.

Janice
begged her not to go. Clair picked up a machete from somewhere in the
kitchen. She told us to lock the door and stay inside no matter what
happened.

The
anchorwoman sat behind her desk...looking into the camera...shaking
her head.

Hard
times.

Hard
times.

CLAIR

The
sun was so bright, I couldn't see for a second. That scared me, and I
wanted to run back inside. The place where Pepper bit me burned like
a bitch. Much limping then. A van was in the middle of the dirt road,
its whole front part smoking. My ESP yelled, “Danger! Turn
around and go home, stupid!” The side of the van read Aloha
Elderly Homes #1. I walked with my machete held out. A strange sight:
It looked like the van rammed straight into a tree, and there were
hand prints pressed into the front of the van, like someone tried to
stop it from running them over. I walked 'round to the back and,
after taking a deep breath, swung the door open.

A
nurse cowered in a corner with an old woman in a wheelchair, both
weeping, begging me not to hurt them. “Please, please, please,
please,” they went. The nurse was named Beth, and the old woman
was Hershey Lilo, who had a bloody wound on her neck. I saw
teethmarks.

“My
sister bit me!” Hershey said. “In all the years I've
known her, she's never bit me like that. She
visits
and takes
a
bite
out of
me!
She never liked me. I had no problem
cutting her head off with that electric knife.”

Beth
held the old woman, covering Hershey's neck-wound to keep the blood
inside.

“It
is a sad state of affairs,” Beth said. “What's happening
to all the old people?”

“It's
that new pill. Kilt. It's turning them into lunatic-beasts.
Zombies
.”

Beth
frowned.

“Stop
it. You're scaring the old lady.”

The
“old lady” appeared to be sleeping...snoring. I pointed
my machete at her.

“Did
she take Kilt?”

Beth
shrugged.

“I...I
don't remember.”

I
heard a tree branch crack, and I spun around. It was just a stray
cat.

“I
guess she's alright. If she
did
take Kilt, she'd be running
around trying to goose us. No? Goddamn. I don't really know.
Whatever.”

Beth
leaned forward.

“Why
are the elderly attacking all the young people?”

“They're
not angry,” I said. “They're
happy
.”

Beth
said the old folk's home they came from was a total mess: The old
people attacked and ate all the nurses. She saw four of the crazy old
people playing hacky sack with a bloody head. “I'll never
forget the look on that head's face,” Beth said. “She
looked so surprised, what with her eyes and mouth open like that –
long, red hair flying through the air. Farra was such a fine nurse.”
Beth went on, saying how the
whole
island had gone crazy, how
it was all the “Devil's” work, how it was the end of
days, and how people were leaving their homes and heading for the
hills, up where it was supposed to be safe. The old folk's home –
all
of them – were being attacked...and not just by
zombies. People were pissed off and were taking action –
capturing as many old people as possible and rounding them up, tying
ropes around their necks and hanging them and burning them and
throwing rocks at their smoking bodies. It made me sick to hear it
all. Were people this insane when pushed too hard? Beth said everyone
laughed as they threw their stones at the hanging bodies.
“Laughed,”
she said. “But it was fake-laughing. Like they were forcing
themselves to believe everything was okay.”

Beth
and Hershey were heading up to a friend's place (a little ways up the
mountain from my house), when they struck...something...or someONE.
Their driver yelled out, “I hit him! I didn't mean to!”
then ran out. Last they heard, he was screaming, then nothing. Gone.
They were left all alone.

“Better
you guys stay with us,” I said, and helped Beth roll Hershey
into the house.

That
turned out to be a big MISTAKE.

Hershey
started complaining how messy the place was, how she felt like
vomiting from all the stink in the house. I assumed she meant the
incense I was burning.

“It's
just incense,” I said.

“
Incest!
”
she yelled. “Criminal congress! I'm in the Devil's house! Beth,
release me from this witch's hold! Take me to Angelo's home. I miss
his touch, his caress, his phantom odors, his buttery whispers.”

Beth
looked at us.

“Don't
mind her. She gets nervous in odd houses. Angelo's her husband. We
were heading up to his place before our van was destroyed.”

I
turned to my mom and Jackson.

“Maybe
we should go up there and get this Angelo guy. He might need help.”

“That
won't be necessary,” Beth said. “Angelo is dead. Has been
for 50 years.” She whispered it so Hershey didn't hear. The old
woman was scratching her neck, and more blood jumped out like bugs.
My first thought was
My carpet!
Mom went to the old woman and
told her to stop scratching, because it would only make the wound
worse. Jackson pulled me to the side. “We have to get rid of
her,” he said. “She's doing the same thing that Chinese
man did on the TV, remember?”

Hershey
was bleeping like a goat. So strange. Like a damn goat! She kept
scratching her neck-wound. Worms wiggled out of it and thumped to the
floor. Hershey's eyes turned yellow, then black, then white, then
magenta, then yellow again. I looked around. I lost my machete!
Hershey jumped out of her wheelchair – right onto Beth and tore
off her clothes and ripped away her nonexistent breasts and commenced
eating and chomping away, taking Beth right to the floor. We were in
shock. No one moved. My heart stopped. And speaking of hearts,
Hershey stood up from her meal and looked at us like a deer in
headlights. Her heart was beating all crazy-like under her blouse:
Big THUMP-THUMPS pushing out like fists. My eyes were so locked on
them. Beth made a run for me. Jackson punched the zombie's face and
sent it crashing into the TV, head first. Hershey stood up – TV
set on her head – and stumbled around. A cartoon show played: A
rabbit was hitting another rabbit over the head with a frying pan.
The zombie threw the TV set away, hitting Jackson on the head. He
went down screaming and wiggling on the floor. Convulsions! Mom ran
to him and cradled him.

“Slut!”
she called the monster.

Hershey
started scratching herself again – this time at her chest. She
tore her blouse off, and her breasts flopped about like fish out of
water. It was like they had a mind of their own. Hershey began
tearing at her chest, pulling away layers of skin and threads of
meat. There was a horrible snapping sound, and next thing I saw, she
was yanking out Goddamn bones. A hole was in her chest, and her heart
was beating out of it.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
I grabbed a
frying pan from the kitchen and ran up and smashed her brains out
until nothing but a muddy mess was left. She was still standing –
dazed – but still standing. I reached back and gave one final
hit. THUNK. The zombie stumbled a bit and fell backwards in a weird
way: She landed on a bar stool, on her spine, and she bent into a
lowercase “n” shape. A sickening yawn escaped her
vomit-covered lips, and the body itched and twitched. Her thighs gave
out violent tremors. Her sharp chest bones stuck out like white
fingers. We were all on the floor, all breathless. The sun lazied out
from the clouds and bathed the living room in bright light. Jackson
moaned something that sounded like “Goal”, and blacked
out. Mom held him in her arms and rocked him. I think she was
whispering a lullaby. We put him in my room and went about our
business.

Beth
was dead. Now, you'd think moving a dead body would be disgusting,
and you'd be
right
. But when your brain is buzzing with
adrenalin, you just do what ya gots ta do, believe you me. We picked
her up – just right done grabbed her under the armpits like we
were hauling wood – and dragged her ass out back where we dug a
shallow hole and dumped her in. We burnt her up nice and good and
buried her stiff remains in the hole. It was Mom's idea. Said she saw
it in some movie. When we dragged
Hershey's
body out the house
to be burned, she CAME ALIVE and chomped her teeth at Mom like one of
those wind-up teeth toys, just bite-bite-bite-bite. Mom freaked out
and ran off. I shoved Hershey – excuse me, the ZOMBIE –
onto that wheelchair and pushed her out the house and shoved her down
the dirt road, where she disappeared way down there, around a corner,
kicking up dust.

Hopefully,
she'd run into the police.

Come
to think about it...I should have shoved her stink ass off the side
of the mountain.

Dammit.
Why didn't I think of that
sooner!

Don't
you hate it when that happens?

Oh,
well.

JANICE

I
got scared when night came. I kept imagining zombies in the woods.
Kept imagining Pepper with more of those
things
, plotting,
ready to attack and eat us. Jackson slept for so many hours. He
wouldn't wake up. I called the hospital, and they said they'd send an
ambulance over straight away. Clair didn't like it. “Too
risky,” she said. “We can't be calling people up here.
What's the hospital gonna do anyway? They must be filled with
patients!” I told her that we had to try
something
.
Jackson would die if just left there in that bed. She threw her hands
up and walked away, and that was that.

The
President of The United States told people to stay indoors.

“The
elderly are attacking everyone under the age of 80 with extreme
prejudice for some reason,” the black woman in power says. “If
you are 79 or younger, please stay in your homes while we figure out
what to do.”

People
threw bottles at the Governor of Hawaii's home, demanding answers.
The Governor screamed at everyone to run home before it was too late.

“The
island is a mess and too dangerous to be gallivanting about!”

But
it was no good. The people were attacked and torn to shreds and
swallowed. The Governor ran out of his fancy home with a shotgun and
blew many of the zombies limbs and heads and torsos off. One torso
flew all the way up into a tree and scared away some birds. A zombie
got too close to the Governor, so BOOM, off flew that torso too –
that one landing on the hood of a passing car. The driver screamed
and rammed into the back of a pig truck. The animals ran out and over
the car and squealed down the street and caused a major traffic jam.
People chased after the pigs.

Clair
was right about the hospitals.

On
the news, the hospitals were all filled up and crazy with activity.
One hospital (I forget which one) was particularly in trouble. People
begged to be let in. It was a huge crowd – something like a
hundred people. They punched and kicked at the doors and some even
tried driving through the damn doors and climb up the palm trees to
get into the windows, but they were pushed back down by orderlies.
Some people landed on their heads. Madness. A doctor leaned out of a
window and spoke into a megaphone, saying, “Avast, ye mateys!
We be full! Get home before the zombies get ye!”

But
again, it was too late.

200
zombies ate the crowd.

The
news anchor sat at the news desk, shock-faced, those eyes big and
frozen. She stayed like that with her hands over her mouth for a long
time. She was watching something disgusting – too sensitive for
the viewers at home. The only thing to hear were eating sounds and
slurping sounds and tearing sounds and a lot of moaning and yelling
out loud. The lights in the news room blinked a few times...then
turned off. The news lady screeched. The old zombies ran in and
chased everyone around.

And
then the TV sizzled and went black.

They
had taken over.

CLAIR

Nighttime.
Fred was on my mind. As much as I hated him, he was my brother. It
was more like I
had
to care about him. But maybe, just
maybe...a little part of me did actually care for the asshole's
safety. I told Mom my plan to check up on him, and she freaked out.
He wasn't worth it, she said. I didn't listen, and went anyway.

I
hopped in my busted car and made my way down the dirt road. The
headlights still worked, but barely – a lot of times fading in
and out. Before I left, I promised Mom I'd be all right, and that
seemed to calm her down a little. It was all I could do for her. I
was on my way, and there was nothing she could do to stop me. The
plan was simple: Get Fred, run over a few zombies on purpose to
release some stress, and get back home. 1-2-3. Easy.

Fred
wasn't answering his phone.

For
some odd reason, I started thinking about my dad. But that lasted for
a bad 3 seconds. Fred was so much like Dad. But I digress....

A
car was in a ditch, windshield wipers still on and pushing away a
mess of blood. It was Fred's car. And then I saw something that made
me real sick.