Teenage Wasteland (I Zombie) (9 page)

“Might?” Mikko snarked.

“Who’s the old dude?” Nicco asked.

“The owner of this store. He went full-on creep with Mikko, hence the trip to nap town.”

Nicco knelt down to get a close-up of the downed man. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“What do you mean, Nicco?” I asked.

Nicco stood and turned the camera on me. “The question was pretty straight-forward, don’t ya think?”

I shoved the camera from my face. “We’re not doing anything to him. That’s not our gig. We’ll load up and leave, same plan as always.”

“Cool, cool.” Nicco covered his misstep. “Just checkin’.”

“Oi!” Frenzy called out. “You won’t believe what I found.”

Curiosity got the best of me, and I wound my way to Frenzy’s side. He turned to me and held up a katana with a grin. “How better to lop off the head of a Moaner?”

Kubrick grabbed at the sword; Frenzy pulled it from within his reach. “Simon didn’t say, ya git. Besides, finders freakin’ keepers.”

Kubrick whispered, “Prick.”

“You might not want to say such things about the man holding the means to slice open your spine,” Frenzy said with a smile.

“What the hell’s going on here?” I asked in a voice loud enough that everyone could hear. “We’re all on the same damn side, right?” No one answered. “Did that question sound rhetorical?”

Frenzy shrugged. “If I had to venture a guess, I’d say it did lean a bit toward the rhe–”

“Shut your pie hole, Frenzy.” I ordered. “Everyone fill your packs so we can get back to our regularly scheduled program.”

Without a word, everyone went back to stuffing eats into their packs. Before the Asian man could wake, we slipped out of his store and back into the danger zone. I opted to leave the shotgun behind. There was no reason to render the poor man helpless.

“Where to now, Jingo?” Mikko asked.

The question was answered when a chorus of moans drifted in from a distance. I gestured for everyone to stay quiet so I could do my best to pinpoint the location. The sound rose again; this time it was Frenzy who pointed with the silvery tip of his new best friend.

“That way,” Frenzy proclaimed. “My steel is ready for action.”

seven | mr. creepy pants

We meandered through the town, darting through streets and down alleys, until we managed to locate the undead rabble-rousers.

“Son of a bitch,” Fay hissed. “How are we supposed to take out six of them?”

“If my math is correct, we’re even Steven,” I responded. “I’m okay with those odds.”

“What about those of us without weapons?” Fay added.

Frenzy reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew a knife. He handed the blade to Fay and said, “Be okay now, chikky?”

Fay swatted Frenzy’s offered weapon away. “Could you be any more crass?”

Frenzy leaned into Fay’s space and hissed, “Could you be any more of a…”

“Guys,” I spat. “I swear to God I’ll turn this car around.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Frenzy faked a child’s voice…fully intent on mocking what little authority I had.

I did a cursory glance around the area, hoping for inspiration to strike. We needed the means to take the bastards out efficiently. The jury was still out on whether Kubrick and Fay could fight; so the the truth was, the odds were
not
in our favor.

The area was a deconstructionist’s dream come true. Buildings had fallen into disrepair; cars sat abandoned, stripped, and worthless; weeds broke through the cracks in the sidewalk and streets. In other words, business as usual for a world redrawn with sixty-four shades of apocalypse.

Poking from a box was a measure of wire…thin enough to be dangerous. I knelt down and pulled the lid back to see a coil of the stuff, ready for some form of action.

The idea hit me like a red rubber dodge ball to the crotch.

I looked up at Mikko and whispered, “It’s time for a little
dead rover, dead rover
.”

A puckish smile lit up her face. “One of my favorite games,” Mikko replied in kind, and dropped a kiss on my cheek.

I gestured for all to gather ‘round. Everyone squatted and drew in close. I whispered the “rules” of the game and then set out to prepare the playing field.

Mikko grabbed the spool of wire and handed me the end. I pulled it toward a light post and wrapped it tight, five feet from the ground. Once the end was secure, I raced to Mikko, grabbed the spool, and made my way to a similar pole across the street, wrapped it half-way around, pulled the wire tight, and wound it secure. I turned and gave the line a flick to test the tension. The metal wire sang out with a high enough pitch to prove it was ready to play rough.

I pulled everyone to the side of the line opposite the Moaners. “On the count of three, follow my lead,” I whispered, and then turned my attention back to the Moaners.

The gang of six continued swaying in the middle of the intersection. I took in a deep breath and called out, “Undead rover, undead rover, send…all you bastards over.”

Mikko snickered and joined in on the chant.

“Undead rover, undead rover, send all you bastards over.”

The Moaners sniffed the air and canted their heads toward our joyful noise.

“Undead rover, undead rover, please send all you bastards over,” the remaining crew joined in.

“Here they come,” I called out. “Let’s hope this works.”

“Wait,” Fay cried. “I thought you
knew
this would work.”

“Fay, nothing is certain in the apocalypse.”

As the Moaners drew in close, we backed away step by step.

The first zombie hit the wire. The thin metal filament dug deep into the flesh of its neck until it hit bone. The head tilted back to ninety degrees and then snapped off.

Another zombie fell prey to the trick.

And another.

“Frenzy,” I said over the sound of remaining moans, “whatever the wire doesn’t take out is all yours.”

“Right,” Frenzy replied. “My steel is ready.”

The wire managed to take down four of the Moaners. As soon as the fifth crossed the finish line, Frenzy took over.

“Guard, turn, parry…thrust!” Frenzy shouted and ran the fifth zombie’s neck through with the katana. The Moaner fell limp to the pavement. Frenzy slid the sword from the sloppy mess and prepped to have at the final foe.

As the sixth zombie approached, an all-too-familiar clack and roar rattled through the area.

Everyone, save the final zombie, stopped and turned their attention on me.

Adrenaline surged from deep within to flood my every muscle with a nervous energy. I wanted to sprint away, go fetal, and piss myself at the same time.

“Boners,” Mikko whispered.

No one snickered. It’s a bad situation when the word
boner
fails to rouse even a chuckle from a group of teens.

Damned apocalypse.

“Don’t they avoid the city?” Fay asked, her voice trembling with fear.

“That’s a myth,” I answered. “We’ve run into them twice so far…I’d rather not chance a third meet-up. Those things are mad bastards.”

“But what about the heads? We need them to win the game,” Mikko challenged.

As Frenzy separated the final Moaner from his brain bin, I spun my girlfriend to face me. “Sweetheart, unless the Boners pick these dead bodies clean, we can always come back for the heads.”

Frenzy cut in. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather go back to Asylum empty-handed than empty-headed.”

“Good point,” Mikko replied.

Another quick scan of the area. The sound of clacking, bony armor grew louder with each second. Raging nervous energy made the task at hand nearly impossible.

Almost by accident, I spotted a waving hand within the frame of a small window.

“Follow me,” I demanded, and then raced off toward the hand. As we drew near, a door opened. I sped through the entryway and found myself in what could have only been a prime hipster hangout. The theme of the diner was retro chic, styled in the key of irony.

Once we were all tucked away inside the building, the door slammed shut behind us. I turned to see the man responsible for saving our skins. He was a tall, scrawny man without a shirt and nary an ounce of fat on his body. His face and hair were caked thick with dirt and mud.

When he finally spoke to us, his voice was as ratty as the hair on his head. He sounded like Harvey Fierstein impersonating Jim Gaffigan’s Hot Pocket bit.

Dead pocket
.

Mr. Creepy Pants stared on, his eyes wide and his lips curled up into a dangerous smile. “They say the meat on the bones of the young is the most delicious of all,” Creeps chanted.

“And on that note,” Fay said, and started for the door. Frenzy stood in her way and flashed his katana. “What are you gonna do, Fren? Slice and dice my heart from my chest? Believe me when I say, I’d rather die by your hand than suffer whatever fate that thing has in store for me.”

“Don’t you worry about that slurpy prig,” Frenzy said with a grin. He pointed his sword toward the man and said, “Stranger danger.”

“You
could
say I’m dangerous, that’s for sure. In the end, however, you’d most likely call me the space cowboy.”

Everyone glanced my way, as if I were the key to solving the riddle that’d just spilled from the man’s spit-slick lips. I shrugged and returned my attention to the stranger. “What’s your game?”

“Games are for children. As is Hell, or so I’d been told by a chanteuse from an era long since passed.” He blinked several times in succession. “You were delivered to me by the angel of take-out, weren’t you? Although I’m fairly certain I ordered cheesy bread with my teen wings. Please tell me you have my cheesy bread in one of those backpacks. Please, oh please.” The man shook his head so violently, I was certain his neck would snap.

Frenzy took a step forward and leveled the blade of his sword until the tip rested delicately on the man’s chest. “Yeah, mate, we have yer cheesy bread. All ya gotta do is ask nicely.”

The odd man wrapped his bare hand around the steel of the blade and gave it a white-knuckle grip. Drops of blood launched from the meat of his palm to crash land on the floor below. He then slid his hand up and down the blade as his eyes rolled into his head.

“What the hell?” Kubrick shouted, right before nudging his cameraman.

Nicco leaned toward the blade to get a closeup of the action. “Nice.”

“No!” I nearly screamed. “This isn’t nice, this is beyond messed up. Dude, what’s your glitch?”

The man looked up to me with wild eyes. He grinned wide to reveal chipped and stained teeth. “My glitch? Oh, my good boy, I have no glitch. I do have a stitch…or was that nine? I cannot recall, but I am fairly certain I did save nine. What I cannot remember, for the life of me, is what nine did I save?” He pointed at each of us, one at a time. “I don’t believe it was you I saved, though…unless I saved you for last, because we all know that teenagers taste the most like chicken.”

“Shit,” I whispered.

I’d heard rumors, whispers in the wind that small enclaves of cannibals had been forming. Each and every time someone would speak the word in hushed tones, I’d brush them aside as criminally stupid.

I was wrong; very, very wrong.

“What do we do, Jingo?” Frenzy asked, the blade trembling in his hand. “I can’t run this guy through…he’s still alive. That’s just not my bag, mate.”

There was panic at the disco in my chest. I was certain my heart would crash its way through my sternum, leap to the ground, and vanish into the shadows. It took every ounce of control I had to regain my smooth. I took in a deep breath and stepped in close and personal with the stranger. I pulled the pistol from the back of my pants and felt to make sure the safety was on. The last thing I needed was to accidentally fire a round into one of my team.

“We do nothing, Frenzy.” I turned my focus to the strange man. “You, on the other hand, are going to walk out of here and never look back.”

The man shook his head emphatically. “No can do, no can do. You see, out there is a world of chaos worse than the one within.” He tapped a bony finger to his head. “I’ve looked into that heart of darkness and would much rather play a less deadly game. Checkers? I have half a set. Or we could play Euchre…I hear tell it’s a rousing game played with cards and corn from Indiana.” The stranger tapped my chest. “Were you born in a small town, young man, where little pink houses built of paper to withstand the great American fire?”

My tolerance for the man’s madness had long since faded. I grabbed his dirty finger and bent it backward. To my surprise, he grinned and leaned into the bend until a loud
crack
sounded from his hand. The sound of ecstasy poured from his mouth and tears from his eyes.

He withdrew his hand, the finger clearly broken. “Sometimes you need a bit of pain to remind you that you’re still alive.” He shook his broken digit between us; it flopped about like a rubber chicken. He giggled wildly. “Look at it go. Look at it go!”

Behind us, the door rattled against the roar of Boners. The half-naked man giggled with delight. “Here they come, ready to rip off your head and spit down your throat.”

I pressed the barrel of the gun to man’s chest. “Into the room behind you. Now!”

He presented no sign of refusal before he turned and vanished into the room. Without hesitation, I stumbled to the door and slammed it shut. Mikko snatched a chair from the end of the hall and propped it under the handle of the door. She gave the door a tug and, once she was satisfied the persecuted soul couldn’t escape the room, she returned to my side.

I made to race up the stairwell across the hall, when Kubrick grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to a stop.

“You’re kidding, right?” Kubrick asked.

“About what?”

“About staying here? Who knows how many more nut cases we’d have to deal with inside this nightmare factory.”

An emphatic roar made a point I didn’t need to hit home. Without another word spoken between us, everyone followed me up the stairs.

Three landings later, we were presented with a wide open space…a single room spread over the entire floor. Scattered around the area were large, sealed crates, each stamped with a logo I’d never before seen.