Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (15 page)

“Shit!”

And
then she started shoving zombies into Jackson's way. He brought his
hands together like a spear and ran through each zombie and split
them in two.

Jackson
gave Pepper a bear hug, and she lit up right quick. They fought all
around the church, setting things on fire. Jackson punched her IN the
chest. She fell into an elevator shaft, way down there in all that
darkness, trying desperately to scoop up and shove back in all the
blood shooting out from the hole in her chest. I hit a switch. Pepper
looked up, and the elevator made its slow way down. She gave Jackson
a hopeless look. She jumped up and down over and over with her hands
in the air, expecting him to grab her.

“Baby!”
she said. “Save me! I love YOU!”

Jackson
stood there, on fire, taking in deep breaths.

He
smiled at her.

“...Get
kilt
,” he said.

Pepper's
eyes lit up.

“You
son of a...!”

The
elevator eased on top of her...and she popped into a big, dark mess.
I watched and enjoyed every second of her screaming. I'm not entirely
sure, but I think I thanked God.

The
place was going crazy. Zombies ran around in circles, biting their
nails, not knowing what to do. The building was on fire. I was about
to run out of the damn place, when I realized that Jackson wasn't
with me. He just stood there, staring...waving bye. I yelled for him,
but he didn't budge. He said that he was staying. It wasn't right
that he was alive. He felt fake – felt guilty for cheating
death. Right when he demanded that I “Go!” and “Leave
now
!” the ceiling gave way and all this crap fell
between us. Smoke was in my lungs; breathing hurt.

I
ran outside, coughing, and watched the place light up the night sky.

I
didn't cry.

No
time.

PART THREE

THE END

No
more pills. The super elders turned into raging maniacs. Mad addicts.
I jumped into a hearse and plowed through the crazies. Back in the
city, I saw a slow supelder take out a bottle of Kilt, but it was
empty. He looked around...and tackled a fellow supelder and ate him.

The
meat made him stronger. He raised his arms up and flexed like a
muscle man, and said, “I am invigorated!” And then they
were all attacking each other. It was a gruesome sight. I ran through
some and moved on.

Once
I was home, and all locked up in Clair's house, I fell on her bed and
knocked out. Jackson visited me in my dreams, instructing me to
protect the island and kill all the leftover zombies – to make
the island clean again – to make Oahu right again. In the
morning, I woke up crying for him. I went into the kitchen and made a
meal consisting of rice and Spam, grabbed a machete – washed it
clean – jumped into the hearse, and went back down into the
world. The city was quiet. I could hear only my footsteps on the
street. Newspapers flew around. Cars and trucks and buses stood
around, torn apart, many burnt, smoking. I walked around so many
bodies and limbs and scalps and piles of smiling skulls. The
surviving supelders lost all their energy. They were on their bellies
and moved on the streets like depressed snakes. Limbs too weak, some
dug their chins into the ground and inched their way forward.

It
was hard for me to cut off someone's head, but Jackson's spirit
must've possessed me, or something, because my hands just seemed to
do the work for me. I chopped off their heads, and then I drove
around the island to find as many dying elders as I could and sliced
their heads off, too. After a while, it got easier. I felt nothing.
Many of the zombies were in the Black Sands Coffee Company, all on
the ground, struggling to eat bags of coffee. I cut their heads off
and took home some bags of coffee.

So
sue me.

It
went on like this for days.

Once,
I found a cannibal-boy eating the dead. I tried talking to him like I
was talking to a stray dog, but it was for nothing. The kid found a
Kilt pill on the body and ate it, and he exploded. I didn't even try
to stop him. I didn't run. I didn't care. Another day, I visited the
home and saw a supelder trying to stay alive by hooking itself to an
energy drink life support system. I was impressed, but chopped its
head off anyway – while the zombie cried and begged for
kindness – and destroyed the contraption.

I
live up in the hills now and exercise regularly, just like I used to
when I was “younger”. I eat all the Spam I want, and I go
hiking whenever I want. Sometimes a find a half-alive super elder in
the woods, so I'm never without my machete nowadays. I have those
nights when I wake up and feel like dying. I miss Jackson. It feels
like my chest is on fire when I think about him. Nothing there but
pain...heartache...loss. I have to learn how to be alone all over
again. I don't recommend it.

Meditation
helps a little – being calm and peaceful – one with
myself...with the world. When I jog down the mountain, I look over to
the city of Honolulu, and I'm amazed by the silence...by the blueness
of the sparkling ocean way off in the distance. I focus on the sound
of my breathing as I jog...on the sound of my shoes hitting dirt...of
the birds singing all around me. Peaceful...so peaceful.

I
don't remember the last time I looked in a mirror. Don't care
anymore. I'm over it.

The
exercise keeps me feeling real good.

I
have more energy than ever before.

I
feel younger than I ever did.

I
feel
alive
.

The End. For now.

COMING
SOON

Get
Kilt 2

To
Zombie, or Not To Zombie?

Sweat Zombies

DON'T TAP ON THE GLASS

I wish that old lady would stop looking at me.

She was on drugs and had the eyes of
a badger. I ran on that treadmill with my heart pounding in my ears.
I had to focus on my workout. I had to concentrate.
Forget
about that crackhead outside trying to be sexy.
She grabbed her crotch with her left hand and made little jumping
movements and fondled her tongue and hollered sensual, gladiatorial
sounds. All that passion made me shudder. I hated being up front.
Just yesterday, three rich, Japanese women stopped at the window,
pointed at me, laughed with their hands over their lips, and scurried
away on their high heels. Why were they giggling? What did I do? I
knew what they were talking about....

“He'll never have a chance with erotic, successful, Asian women
like us,” says Lady #1.

“I'd rather stick my face in an overzealous alligator than kiss
that guy,” says Lady #2.

Forget them. Focus on your exercise.
O
n most days, you'd find me running near the back wall. That
day was different. See, I was there for
Nikki.
She was on the center treadmill, five down from me. The plan? Go
treadmill-hopping and get next to her.
Just keep running,
I
thought.
Don't look at her. Say nothing. Play it cool. Let
her get used to your presence first – your
scent
.

Two men stood outside the window and looked at Nikki. They dressed
like they were going to a hip, douchebag club – with their
tongues hanging out, their tilted baseball caps, their white dress
shirts, their blue jeans, their white shoes. They longed for her. Ah!
This was perfect. They had her attention. It was time for me to get
closer....The old crack addict in the blue church dress wobbled
closer to the window and gazed up at me. She smiled and got nasty –
drilled her right hand in and out of her mouth. She was determined.
Her wooden teeth fell out and shattered on the pavement, some
ricocheting off the window. Still running, I blurted:

“Good Lord! Help us sinners!”

I turned off the treadmill and sucked in air. The crackhead shoved in
a new set of teeth and made a kissy face and massaged her breasts.
The fitness center's security guard was standing nearby and eating a
piece of cake with chopsticks. I reached out to him.

“Herb, can't you do something? Jesus, Mary and Jerome...I'm a
disturbed paying customer.”

He shrugged.

“I'm on break. Can't you see I'm trying to learn how to eat
cake with chopsticks? I have that Japan trip next month. It'll be
great. I'm gonna buy so many panties from vending machines. Did you
know they're from real high school girls?”

I shook my head.

“You idiot. That's a myth. Not to mention severely gross.
Pervert Hell's waiting for you.”

I heard tapping on the window. The
old woman's mouth was on it – tongue dancing and leaving behind
trails of spit. She banged her fists on the glass. “I love you!
I love you,
boy
!”

My eyes got real wide with shame. I looked around, then pointed to
myself.

“Me?”

She kicked at the window.

“Just give me a chance! Don't judge me until you've sampled my
wares!”

I jumped back, sure that she'd crash through. Then Nikki howled in
frustration and jumped off her treadmill. The place shook a little.
That's what happens when you're seven feet tall.

“I can't work under these bestial conditions!”

Herb rolled his eyes and groaned. “Stop your bellyaching,
Nikki. Get back on that treadmill and do what you do.” He put
his cake down and sauntered over to the window. He waved his hands
around and spoke like an angel, like he was talking to a venomous
snake.

“Easy, lady. You better leave before I call the cops.”

The old woman looked appalled.

“Peace be with you.”

She smiled, bowed, and skipped down the sidewalk, singing "Skip
to My Lou".

I heard demanding voices. The two douchebags from earlier were at the
front desk, asking about Nikki. The receptionist smiled and pulled on
a cord. The owner of the joint – Seria – strutted out of
her office and stuffed pamphlets into each man's paw.

“Welcome, gentlemen! Let me give you a free tour of our fine
establishment.”

They tried talking their way out of
it, but Seria had them by the arms. After walking around, and looking
at women in tights bending over and stretching, both men signed up as
lifelong members. Minutes later, they were running next to Nikki...a
man on each side...no way for me to get in. It was embarrassing
watching them flirt with her. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she
ran, smiling here and there. She had them. A fool could see that, but
these guys didn't care. They spoke over each other. One guy tried to
predict her astrology sign, the other guy tried to get sympathy by
telling her how his wife died in a freak bullfighting accident. All
the while, three
more
guys had gathered outside the window, staring up at Nikki as she ran.
The men outside yelled and clapped, clearly drunkards.

She blew them kisses, messed around with her hair and tied it up.
More cheering from the gallery. Minutes later, those guys strolled
into the fitness center, signed up, and were running around Nikki –
those fools all huffing and puffing and drunk and falling over. One
of them dropped into a comatose state and vomited into his dreams.
Apparently, he ate a lot of rice. The mess was disgusting. Everyone
kept running. The stink of stomach acid was alive in the air.

At two in the morning, I packed up and walked toward the front door.
I passed Seria's office and heard great laughter. I looked in,
careful to not be seen. Seria was behind her desk, leaning back in
her chair with a big cigar in her mouth, counting money into Nikki's
smiling hands.

Nikki....

She looked just like Elaine.

PART ONE

Exercise To Exorcise

As a medical transcriptionist, I
turned recordings into written documents. I loved being in the
privacy of my own home and not having to deal with customers, but the
gig came with problems. For one, my days were spent listening to
doctors spitting into my ear all these horrible medical issues, like
amputations, liver diseases, abortions, foot fungi, stomach worms,
buttock worms, and so on. I'd have these terrible nightmares....The
other thing negative about the job, was I never went out into the
sun. Calcium was a concern. To help with my weak bones, I needed to
take vitamin D and calcium supplement pills. Here's a quick health
lesson: Contrary to popular belief, calcium is not in vitamin D. It's
a mineral that you get from a variety of sources, like fish. Vitamin
D is what you need for your body to make
use
of calcium.

To do my work, I always had to step on this pedal to start or end a
recording. Nine times out of ten, you'd get a doctor that mumbles. I
was always stopping and going to make sure I heard them right. I had
to be careful. I was at the end of my rope – one mistake too
many in my career. My boss warned me that if I got another complaint
from a doctor, I'd get the boot. Ever since the economy went to shit,
the transcriptionist field turned into a competitive battle ground. I
had twenty people lined up to take my job. I could hear them clawing
outside my front door like raccoons foaming at the mouth. The
brutes....

At the end of every month, I'd go to the hospital to get my checks. I
was in and out of that place for five years. Ben and Elaine were
always there. They were the only ones I cared to say hello to.
Everyone else looked upset. The thing about Elaine was that, yes, she
was cute, but I never thought any more of her. She didn't meet my
“dream girl” requirements.

When I walked into the lobby and saw them kissing, I was confused by
the knife in my heart. I felt betrayed. What was happening to me? In
the elevator, I had to keep talking – had to hide how I was
feeling – that I was rotting inside by the second.