Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (58 page)

He then got drunk one night and sneaked into the hospital and killed
his mother – put a pillow over her face and did her in quietly.
The next morning was the Sunday he took the chance of a lifetime and
ran out with all that money and was run over.

Lynn rolled over and put her palms on my face. She was
sweating...nervous...shaking.

I had to stop being an exorcist, she said. It was too dangerous. I
had to forget about the money. There were many zombie hunting jobs
out there. I just had to look. I just had to promote myself, put
myself out there. She'd help. She'd be my publicist. That was fine by
me. Good to have heard it, really. I never had much of an ego. I was
a shy kid. A private kid.

A little later, and Lynn was asleep against my boney chest, drooling.

I began to wonder.

Was she messed up in the head? Was she stable?

Did the sex come too soon?

Did I make a mistake?

I had a dream that I was living in Old Hawaii...seemed like the
1800's. I lived in a hut, a single dad with a little girl. She seemed
familiar. It was Shells. The scene changed, and I was fishing with a
huge, green mountain behind me. I was squinting from the sun. My face
was tanned and looked like leather. The water glittered –
reflection dancing across my face.

Then I was sucked through a black hole – I was flying through
time....

Bedroom.

Shells was being attacked by Shoehorn. Shells was screaming my name,
begging for help.

“I'm sorry,” I said in my sleep.

The demon chased the little girl around her room, throwing shoes on
fire at her. Shells ran into my arms and looked into my eyes.

“My dad is too afraid to stop that demon,” she said.
“Help me, Boss, please!”

Shoehorn ran up and stole the little girl from my arms. It laughed at
me.

“She's mine now!” it giggled. “Your daughter is
mine!”

I just stood there. I couldn't move. “My
daughter
?”

Shells screamed.

“Help me...DADDY!”

It was 10 at night, and I woke up with a sock in my mouth.

Lynn was still asleep, kicking me as she dreamed about evil clergymen
trying to do nasty things to her. I know this, because she yelled in
her sleep. She was giving a whole speech. I eased out of bed, put my
clothes on, and went outside.

On the cab ride over to Shells's home, I thought back to what that
Shoehorn said. I had to warn Shells. Make sure she was okay. As the
cab zipped between lanes, I stared out at the passing skyscrapers. I
examined the many knives I brought along. I could feel the driver
staring at me through his rear view mirror, frowning, displeased. I
had small knives, nothing too heavy. Just things easy enough to throw
or ram into a demon's eyes. I also had a small thing of holy water
and a small cross.

The cab dropped me off, I paid for my ride, and I stood outside
Shells's house. Crazy lights came out from the windows. It was like a
mad disco inside. I took out a knife and ran to the front door. It
was locked, so I kicked it down. I yelled for Jichard, but, of
course, got no response. I ran to the living room. The hole that he
made when he fell was covered with cement and topped with a large
house made of playing cards. I heard a scream upstairs. It was
Jichard.

“Hellllllllp!” he went. “Somebodyyyyy!”

I looked behind me, hearing chatter. People were outside, staring up
at the windows, many of them in their nightgowns and robes. Expecting
the cops soon, I rushed upstairs. I had to hurry. If Jichard was
dead, the cops would take Shells, and I'd lose track of her for
good...
never
see her again. Shells's bedroom door was closed.
I pounded and kicked at it. Again, Jichard screamed and hollered.
Something hit the door, and it fell on me. I kicked it aside and got
to my feet. Someone moaned. I turned around and saw Jichard on the
ground – nothing but a torso. He brought his head up and looked
at me...smiled...then looked down at himself. He vomited and cried.

“Look at what that demon did to me!” he said.

I took a step forward with my hand out. I was forcing myself to move
– to do something to help this man. Jichard reached out to me,
and then his eyes rolled over into his brain, and he died. He died
with his intestines steaming and flopping around like headless,
confused worms. I ran into Shells's room and saw her floating in the
air. She looked confused, post-weeping. Shoehorn was above her,
sitting on a cloud, controlling her like a puppet.

“I knew you'd come!” the demon laughed.

Shells looked at me, and it was like she was staring at a stranger. I
got out my knife and ran to her and jumped up and cut the strings.
Shells fell to the ground and crawled to me and hugged my leg. I
stared up at the demon.

“You pest,” Shoehorn said to me. “I'll swallow your
face!”

Shoehorn flung its head back and growled. His cloud turned black and
was replaced by a raging fire. I backed up and put my hand on
Shells's head.

“Go downstairs, kid. Things are about to get real nasty.”

She looked up at me.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who's gonna save your butt,” I said. “Now
scram!”

She nodded and ran off. I wondered what she thought of her dead dad.
Shoehorn grew larger. It was sucking in the flames it sat on.
Shoehorn scared the living piss out of me, but, for some odd reason,
I didn't run away. I was consumed by this “it's now or never!”
feeling. Shoehorn was transforming. The demon looked to have been
seven feet. Shoehorn was topless with a birdcage in its stomach.
Inside was a tiny demon that screamed weird things I didn't
understand. I think it was speaking Spanish. Shoehorn took a
thunderous step toward me. The house shook, and I fell back on my
ass. I felt like a fool. Shoehorn raised its arms up and made to
pound on me. Police sirens outside got Shoehorn's attention. It
looked over its shoulder, then looked down at me. Shoehorn grinned.

“Aww, shucks,” it said. “More pests.”
Shoehorn raised a finger. “One moment.”

Shoehorn flew through the damn roof. I ran to the window. People were
screaming, scattering like puppies. There were five police cars.
Shoehorn landed on one and blew it up. Hot pieces of metal and glass
took a cop's head off. Shoehorn jumped on the other officers. They
exploded like sacks of tomato sauce. Shoehorn ran after a neighbor –
some old woman – and began eating her hands. I threw a knife at
Shoehorn and struck the back of its head. Shoehorn let out a whimper
and reached back and pulled the blade free. Blood shot out like a
fountain pen. The demon looked up at me and threw it back. I ducked
and it hit the wall, right into the face of a pretty boy on a poster.
The handless old woman kicked Shoehorn between the legs. It cried out
in pain. I threw the knife again, this time getting Shoehorn right
between the eyes.

First thought: Get Shells and run away!

So I did.

I ran downstairs and called out for her.

She was gone.

The front door exploded into a million pieces – just turned
into powder, really. I hit the ground with my hands over my head.
Shoehorn walked through the cloud of fine debris. It growled, knife
wiggling in its face. The police lights behind Shoehorn made me
dizzy, but I still got up. I reached behind me and got my last
knives, holding one in each hand. Shoehorn nodded in approval and ran
to me. Its horns tore the ceiling apart. I heard a click behind me.

“Get down!” Shells said.

I did and heard a BOOM!

The top of Shoehorn's head came clean off, leaving a jaw that was
like a nest for that wiggling tongue that reached for the sky. Shells
dropped her shotgun and threw her hands over her mouth, crying in a
crazy way and shaking her head. She was muttering something about
devils and the Bible. The beast gurgled its innards and fell on its
back, legs twitching. The little demon in the center of its belly ran
a sword in its stomach, committing that old samurai suicide. I jumped
on the big demon and poured holy water down its open neck. Fire shot
out and almost burnt my eyebrows off. I kissed my cross and yelled
out, “ARRGHH!” shoving the thing down the neck and
pushing down as far as I could go. Shoehorn exploded, sending me
flying into the kitchen. I hit the refrigerator. It opened up, and
then I was covered in milk and eggs. Shells was slapping the mess off
me. She kept saying, “I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

Lynn got me up and started yelling in my face.

“Why didn't you tell me!” she said, shaking me by the
shoulders. “Don't you trust me? You idiot!”

Shells was yelling at her to stop.

The room began spinning, and I fell down.

They picked me up and got me out of that kitchen. I looked at Lynn.
It was hard to talk. My tongue felt like iron. “How did you
find me?”

“You scream in your sleep,” she said. “I had to
stuff a sock in your mouth. I had no choice.”

I shrugged. “It's fair.”

Shells told us to wait a bit. She ran to a statue of a large cat,
turned the knob on its belly, opened it, and took out a bunch of
money, stuffing them in my pocket.

Police cars were in the distance, driving up to the house. The top of
that demon's head was on the ground, eyes looking up at me, all
upset. The thing grew spider legs and tried to make a run for the
couch. I tried stepping on the disturbing sight, but it was Shells
that got the win. She twisted her foot down on it. The thing made a
nice
popping
sound – like she was stepping on one of
those plastic bubble sheets you find in packages. Then the half-head
burst into flames...and we were out of there.

Dreaming again....

I'm on a boat....I'm all alone on this big boat....I know that
everyone jumped off and left long ago....I stayed behind....I hate
being alone....I
hate
being alone....White birds fly all
around me....Zombies standing on the ocean....Looking up into the
sky....White birds fly out from the top of their heads....

No bird flies out from mine....

Tremendous feeling of loneliness....

I want this boat to take me home....

Where is this thing taking me???

I woke up in the backseat of a car. Shells was asleep with her head
on my shoulder. As I feared, she was drooling. Lynn was in the
passenger's seat, chatting with the driver. The man had a mustache
and a deep Russian accent.

“I can't have the cops on me...” he said, “...not
again.”

Lynn cleared her throat, and I got the impression she had been crying
while I was out cold.

“Thanks for helping us, Slovoth,” she said. “I owe
you one.”

“Damn right you do,” the Russian said. “I have more
jobs for you, so don't go running off and disappearing again.
Remember, I saved your butts back there. If it wasn't for me, you
guys would be in jail; I guaran-damn-tee it! You
allll
own me
one. Ha ha ha!”

I knew right then that I hated this guy.

He stopped at a light and looked back at me.

“You hear me, friend? You owe
me
one.”

I smiled.

“Yes, sir, I sure do.”

The man sucked his teeth and drove on.

“Damn straight,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

Lynn coughed.

“You're gonna get lung cancer smoking too much of those.”

He stepped on the gas.

“And you're gonna get skin cancer getting too much sun. Anymore
brain busters? Bwa ha ha!”

I held Shells close as she snored.

Through the whole ride back home, Lynn didn't look at me once.

The condo was empty.

A letter in the sink read:

Went to North Shore to live off land. Sensing negativity from you.
Don't tell us what to do. We don't ever want to work. Bye forever.
Love, Hippies.

I could imagine them all in a long line, all walking toward North
Shore from Honolulu. They'd be singing their songs and holding hands,
heads up to the clouds. People would think they were nuts, but they
wouldn't care. I respected that. So be it. It was then me and Lynn
and Shells. This just meant we'd have to work more to pay off the
condo's berserk rent. That, or move. But I liked it there. It was a
quiet, clean place. I'd work my ass to the ground to stay there.

Shells was in the kitchen, cooking us eggs. Lynn stood with me out in
the balcony, staring out at all the hotels.

“I've got to tell you something,” she said. “That
man was my boyfriend.”

“Was?”

“...Is.”

The news hit me right in the gut, but I didn't show any emotion.
After all, I was a man, wasn't I? I wasn't allowed to show weakness,
especially in affairs of the heart. Believe me, I wanted to cry. I
was already seeing myself, after that conversation, running off into
the bathroom and weeping in a hot shower. With my eyes forward, all I
managed to say was, “Boyfriend?”

Lynn sounded scared.

“I was too afraid to break it off with him. You see, he's
violent. Big and violent. I was too scared of what he might've done
to you.” She hugged me. I didn't hug back. She hugged tighter.
“I don't want to work for him.”

I looked at her.

“What exactly do you
do
for him?”

She looked away.

“Stuff.”

“Where do you work?”

“Waikiki. Please don't ask anymore questions,” she
begged. “My job for him means nothing. My
heart's
not in
it. I'm just doing it for our rent money, that's all. Trust me on
this.”

“Whatever you want,” I said.

She raised an eyebrow. I could see the gears in her head turning.

“I have a plan,” she said. “You could
kill
him.” Something in the center of my chest said NO. But I let
her talk. “See...” she went on, “...he has a lot of
money, and I know where he keeps it all. We just have to go into his
bedroom and dig open his bed. It's all in there. We'd be set for life
– all three of us!”