Teenage Wasteland (I Zombie) (11 page)

>^<

“There’s got to be a better way,” Fay said, her voice filled with desperation.

I shook my head.

“Oi, grow some bollocks. It’s all part of the bloody game,” Frenzy interjected.

Mikko nodded and wriggled under my arm. She stood as close to me as she possibly could without slicing open my torso and crawling in like I was so much Tauntaun. “I’m game.”

“The whole roof?” Kubrick asked.

Nicco turned his camera around and played back the short piece of footage he had taken while peering out the window. Kubrick nearly lost what little he’d put into his stomach.

“Oh, great Christ,” Kubrick moaned. “I don’t know if…”

“I’m going. I can’t stay here and listen to the chorus of the damned wailing for us to come out and play for one second more. I’d rather fall to my death than stay here much longer.”

Nicco threw up his arms. “I can’t believe you. It’s a suicide mission.”

Frenzy stepped to my side. “All part of the game, mate. You know I’m in.”

I stared long and hard at Nicco before speaking. “There are a lot of really young kids at Asylum who depend upon us. We don’t have a choice.”

Nicco shook his head against my words. I decided to take a shot at his ego.

“Consider this. You want to be remembered for your work behind the camera?”

Nicco nodded slightly. I had him.

“Imagine you getting on film, for all to see, the salvation of a hundred or so innocent children.”

Nicco’s face lit up. “Son of a bitch. That’s Oscar material there. You should have led with that.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. “I’m in.”

“Wanker,” Frenzy whispered.

Mikko quickly changed the subject. “What’s the plan?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and spoke with as much authority as I could command. “My vote is we find something to use as a bridge. If we jump, and one of us doesn’t make it, the Moaners could figure out what’s going on.”

Nicco laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Zombies don’t figure things out, they work completely on instinct and impulse. If one of us fails to stick the landing, they’ll fall to the ground and be ripped apart by a horde of the undead. Once the brain is gone, they’ll go back to bumping foreheads with the building until entropy finally makes them its bitch.”

Mikko turned to the cameraman. “Let me guess, you’ve never been kissed, right?”

Nicco blushed. “What the hell does that have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Mikko grinned. “Just…confirmation is all.”

“For what?”

I interrupted before the situation became heated. “What can we use as a bridge?”

“A ladder?” Kubrick answered.

“Have you seen one?” I asked.

Kubrick shook his head.

“Didn’t we see an eight-foot foldable table back in one of the rooms?” Nicco asked.

“Yes!” I nearly shouted. “That’s perfect.” I looked to Frenzy. “Come with me, Fren. You and I are going to build a bridge.”

“Sandra Bollocks,” Frenzy huffed. “Why do I have to…”

Mikko kicked Frenzy in the shin with a well-worn Doc Marten boot. Frenzy winced and muttered, “There’s some bloody irony in there somewhere.”

“Let’s go, Frenzy.”

>^<

We snatched up the eight-foot table.

“These bastards are heavier than they look.”

He was right. In my seventeen years of existence, I’d never had a need to haul a folding table. The weight was going to be a problem in the attic.

“I hope you’re ready to sweat a bit, Fren.”

“Oi, I’m effing British. We’re always ready for a good sweat.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not really…um…”

Frenzy pursed his lips and opened his eyes wide.

“Right.” I drew out the word to assure him I understood.

I didn’t.

“One of these days, Frenzy, you’re going to tell me your story.”

“And one of these days you’ll go screw yourself.”

We reached the attic door and tilted the table on its end. Once the door was open, we maneuvered the eight-foot beast into the close quarters and I squeezed past. I stuck my head back out and said, “I’ll climb the ladder and start pulling the table up. Once it’s off the ground, you get on the ladder and help push it up. Can you handle that?”

Frenzy shook his head. “Like Sanchez can handle a guitar.”

The reference zipped past my head and splashed down on the wall behind me. Instead of asking, I planted my Chuck Taylors on the ladder and started climbing. Once high enough, I heaved the table from the ground with one hand. The heavy slab of press-board rose maybe an inch before it slipped from my hand. “Hey, a little help would be greatly appreciated.”

Frenzy called up, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to be able to lift this blimey bitch.”

I took in a deep breath and heaved. The table rose under the strain of my right bicep and shoulder. “Hurry, Frenzy. I can’t…”

Before I could grumble the next word, the weight of the table eased.

“Got it.”

Together, we managed to work the table up the ladder, one rung at a time. The second the thing landed on the attic floor, I nearly passed out from exhaustion.

“At least the hard part is over,” Frenzy huffed and wheezed.

I laughed between ragged gasps of air.

“What?”

I caught my breath before replying. “The hard part is just beginning.” I pointed toward the window. Frenzy stood, and his lanky legs carried him to the glass. The second he glanced out, he nearly dropped.

“Oh, hell no. That’s some bullshit out there, Jingo. You really expect me to carry that bad boy over those dead bodies?”

I nodded.

Frenzy’s head drooped. “Bloody shite, Jingo.”

“Again, Frenzy, I say…you’re not…”

Frenzy cocked his head at me and spoke, his voice completely bereft of accent. “Let me have this one thing, dude. Like it really matters if I’m from the U.S., Britain, or goddamn Mars. It’s the apocalypse, I don’t have to be me anymore. I spent the better part of my high school days wishing like hell for something just like this so I could escape the fate of
me
. So, if you don’t mind…”

I raised my hand in surrender. “Understood, Frenzy. From now on, you’re pure Brit.”

“God save the Queen,” Frenzy said.

“God save the Queen,” I repeated. “Now…are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I am ever going to be, Jingo.”

I indicated for Frenzy to cover his mouth and nose with something—anything—before opening the window. It didn’t really matter what you used as a mask, the stench would cut through, regardless. Fortunately, I was prepared for the onslaught. Frenzy, on the other hand, was not. The second the window unleashed the beast, he dry-heaved behind the cloth of his Anti-Nowhere League tee shirt.

Much to my surprise, Frenzy climbed out first. Before pulling the table through the window, he peeked back in and said, “Christ, I think my shoe just crushed some bloke’s skull.”

With more struggle than I’d hoped, we managed to squeeze the table through the window. I climbed out and planted one foot onto the roof. When I placed my second foot down, it slipped on a piece of festering intestine and dropped me onto my back.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “I don’t want to know what broke my fall.”

Frenzy stared at me in horror. “No, mate, you don’t.” He reached a hand out and pulled me back to my feet. “Annnnd, whatever it was decided to hitch a ride on your back.”

I nearly panicked. In desperation, I spun in place in a vain attempt to swat away whatever latched onto me.

Frenzy laughed. “Calm down, Jingo. I was just winding you up.”

I stopped, mid-twist. “What?”

“I was teasing you. You’ve got nothing on your back.”

“Are you out of your damn mind, Frenzy?”

“Well, yeah, you could def say that.”

I grabbed a fistful of shirt. “For the next, oh, I don’t know, hour or so…don’t…wind me up!”

Frenzy nodded frantically. I released my grip and he fastidiously smoothed his shirt. “Oi, this is an original…as in can’t be replaced.”

“Neither can we.” I pointed to the table. “Grab your end and march.”

The muck and mire of the oily flesh beneath our feet was retch-inducing. With each step, a new level of sick was discovered. The meat squished like a sponge wet with with thickened soap. Bones made brittle by exposure to the sun snapped under our weight.

I heard Frenzy whispering, “It’s only a movie. It’s only a movie.”

“That working for ya, Fren?”

“Damn it!” Frenzy hissed. “It was until now.”

We carefully lowered the table to the edge of the building. When the metal rails of the eight-footer touched down on the cement edging of the roof, not even a breath of sound was heard. A very slow and stress-filled breath escaped my lips.

I looked over to Frenzy and whispered lightly, “On the count of three, we slide this to the other building. Hold tight. We drop it, and lose our only chance.”

Frenzy nodded his understanding of the plan.

I mouthed, “One. Two. Three.”

Ever so cautiously, we sent the table sliding across the chasm between the buildings. As it inched near its destination, I realized the trajectory was too low. I pressed down with all my weight to course correct. The table bounced up just enough to make it over the lip. With every ounce of control available, we lowered the table until it touched down silently. I glanced toward the table top to see drops of sweat collecting like rain.

Simultaneously, we stood. Our knees were covered with the slop of death. Frenzy bit his lower lip and pulled together his separate brows into one, epic unibrow. He shook his head, turned, and quickly made his way back to the window.

I followed. With each squishy step, I doubted the plan more and more.

“You think the girls’ll be able to handle that walk of undead shame?”

“Mikko could do cartwheels through that mess. As for Fay? We’ll find out soon enough.”

>^<

I didn’t give Mikko a chance to prove her mettle. The second we reached the rot, I scooped her up and carried her through the gore-strewn mess.

“Why the chivalry? I eat this kinda stuff for breakfast.”

“Didn’t want you to get your Docs dirty.”

“Well played, good sir Jingo. Well played.”

We all managed to cross the makeshift bridge without drawing undead attention to our escape. Getting into and out of the neighboring building went equally as smooth. The whole time we were making our break, I waited for the other shoe to fall on the rug being pulled out from under our feet.

It never happened.

I had a hard time believing anything in the apocalypse could be easy.

Something was bound to give.

Damn that something.

eight | the film

“The effing heads,” Mikko shouted as we raced down the street toward Asylum.

“What are you going on about?” Kubrick asked.

“We’d collected six heads for last call. We left them behind. We can’t show up with nothing.”

I chimed in. “We’ve got packs of food, Mikko. It’ll be okay, this once. We’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

A wall of moans stopped us in our tracks.

“If there is a tomorrow,” Frenzy whispered.

Between us and Asylum stood a mob of zombies. Kid after kid rushed from the gates, rudimentary weapons in hand. Sticks, spears, axes…anything they could get their hands on.

“What in the bloody fresh hell is happening?” Frenzy asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Just get your sword out and start swinging.”

Frenzy did as I requested and barreled into the crowd of Moaners. His swing was fueled by pure rage.

And heads rolled.

I opted to forgo the pistol. Not only was I a terrible shot, the noise would do nothing but attract more of the bastards to our door. Instead, I shouted to Frenzy, “Rebar!”

He caught wind of my request, pulled the length of steel from his pant leg, and tossed it back. I nearly dove for the weapon and bulldozed into the fray. I dropped the hammer down once, twice, three times…even on a lady.

Of the undead sort.

All around me, the sound of horror rose. Cries, shouts of agony, moans of pain…all scattered and splattered between celebratory howls and grunts. A continuous flow of teens and preteens spilled from the gates of Asylum to combat the gathering horde.

“Jingo!” The cry came from behind. I turned to see Mikko being backed down by a pair of twin Moaners.

“I’m coming!” I shouted, and bolted, rebar held aloft, ready to play a rousing game of crushcrushcrush. Before I could bring the pain, the tip of a knife blade split through the back of one of the twins’ heads. A single drop of dirty scarlet blood took flight from the silver metal dagger and dropped like poetry to the ground. The zombie slipped off the weapon and fell into a lifeless heap.

Mikko winked. “What? You thought I was a helpless maiden?”

I laughed. “I was actually coming to save the Moaners.”

Before she could respond, she sent the blade through the remaining zombie’s throat, gave it a twist, and kicked the limp body away.

“Damn, Mikko…I’m so turned on right now.”

“You’re a teenage boy, Jingo. When are you
not
turned on?”

“Good point.”

“Behind you!” Mikko shouted. I spun on my heels. The rebar sang through the air and wound up embedded in the skull of an undead female.

“A girl, Jingo? Really? I thought you were better than that.”

I turned back to Mikko, arms up ready to defend my actions.

Mikko grinned. “Relax, I’m just screwing with you.”

The battle quickly devolved into a game of numbers. Eventually, the law of averages tilted toward the living, and the zombies were laid to waste. In the end, I stood and surveyed the collateral damage.

My heart cracked slightly. Although those close to me remained standing and bite-free, there were some who hadn’t fared so well. The broken bodies of my fellow teens lay on the gore-stained ground. The moans of change wafted through the air…clearly indicating we’d have to take out some of our own.

The apocalypse was an unforgiving bitch.