The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! (1) (16 page)

The ground jumps underneath them. Marcel falls on her ass, spitting curses like a viper as she smacks into the ground. Darla falls against the side of the truck and grabs hold of a hand rung to keep from being flung to the ground. Edwina rides the quake, shifting from foot to foot in her sensible sneakers. Then the ground thumps one more time and everyone goes down.

“What in the gin-soaked fuck was that?” Darla yells.

A couple of the girls squirrel out of the side of the semi, guns cocked and ready for action. They are prepared to shoot the face off the first man who looks at them in the wrong tone of voice. Edwina isn’t sure what they plan to do against an earthquake. 

Maggie and Linda are an odd pair—short Asian women who argue all the time except when they hold weapons. Then they are
more wicked
than
a pair of buddy cops with rocket launchers. Their shoulder-length hair flies around their faces as they exit the vehicle. With tight military precision they assemble, followed by two other girls, one with a giant chain-gun in hand and the other with a shotgun.

“What’s going on?” Maggie asks no one in particular. Edwina always imagines her in one of those movies about the Vietnam War. She would be one of the young women who are sick of being whores and take up weapons. Maggie is just a badass from the word ‘Ho Chi Motherfucking Min’. She can strip, clean, and put together a 9mm so fast it is a Guinness world record waiting to happen.

Explosions erupt in the distance.
Really big explosions.
Like the world is on fire explosions. Chunks of earth rise into the air and fall with thunks so loud that the sound waves engulf them a half minute later, bringing them to their knees again.

The sound waves wash over the hillside and shake the ground and the trees that line the side of the road. They rattle the rocks on the ground, blast some weeds around like they got hit by a big blower. Dust flies and Darla gets a nose full, which makes her want to sneeze.

They dust themselves off before dashing for the truck. They crouch down by the side and hold on for dear life. Marcel has a dangerous look on her face, but when the world is shaking around you, there isn’t much sense in getting mad at it—or so Edwina reckons. Edwina clings to the ladder on the side of the truck. Darla hangs on behind her, a cocktail of sweat and fear permeating the air. They all reek of it, and she can’t remember ever smelling this particular mixture before.

There is a fresh rumbling, something that seems intent on making their already fucked-up day worse. The sky darkens, and balls of fire streak across the cloud layer and land in the distance. Usually Edwina feels safe with Darla by her side, but now all she wants to do is find a closet to hide in.
Or a bunker about five hundred feet underground.

One of the fireballs breaks off from the pack headed into the distance and tears a path of destruction through the ocean of trees. It falls short of the women and their semi and smashes into the ground with a shudder Edwina can feel in her teeth.

Edwina cowers behind her wall of woman flesh, but most of the debris flies overhead. When the ground stops moving, the women turn, dazed, to face the massive hole that has been smashed into the ground about a hundred yards away. From within it comes a shape. A thing of beauty that shimmers and shifts like a dancing tissue. As it emerges, it takes on the form of a dreadful apparition with four legs.

Tattered clothing hangs around its body. Shifts and glows first bright, then dull like it isn’t even there. The air around it shimmers and grows cold. It’s like a freezer door opened and the thing stepped through.

Edwina shakes her head because the thing can’t be real. It’s got a head, sure. One encased in a big hood. She expects it to lower the cowl and look around as if lost. It doesn’t so much as flinch as it breaks into a gallop. That is a horse underneath its body, and the creature looks worse than the thing riding it.

Edwina steps back toward the truck. She doesn’t trust her eyes, but she does trust the handgun at her side. It’s a lovely dull black and when she draws and shoots, hunks of lead fly out in the general shape of the 9mm variety. The thing kicks up, but she is so used to the recoil that she can fire and steady in a split second.

Other shapes rise around the horrendous thing as it trots over the scorched field. Forms resembling humans extract themselves from the earth. Puffs of the ash that is all that’s left of the fallen swath of trees shimmer in the air as hundreds of the creatures pull themselves free of the ground. Edwina checks her second pistol even though she already knows it is loaded with one in the chamber and the safety on. She comforts herself with the thought that she has another clip at her side and one tucked in a tiny holster around her ankle.

The girls back up as one. The air is alive with something Edwina can’t put her finger on. Pain and suffering should hang over this place, but there is only the vibration of excitement. Edwina looks around for Marcel, who appears to have retreated into the semi. For a split second, Edwina wonders if she is hiding. Then she giggles at the silly thought.

The rear door opens, and out pours an army. They have guns, assault rifles, hunting rifles—one even has a sniper rifle. That would be Sue, who trained in the military to take out targets from a distance. She was never allowed in the field; she was told she had been simply a ‘pet project.’ The man who delivered the news said it was because she was a girl and would crack under pressure. She punched him right in the nose, which shut him the fuck up. She loves to tell that story. Loves to talk about the expression on his face as he fell on his ass.

Sue climbs up the side of the semi and takes up position.
A pair of girls with modified AK-47s join
her. It’s not legal to own an automatic, but they were able to make the change for about ten bucks a gun.

Darla is at her girl’s side, just sidles right up and runs her hand over Edwina’s ass. Edwina looks at her lover and smiles. Darla smirks and raises the big Remington shotgun. She checks the load and then jacks a shell in. Others move behind what cover there is. Larger rocks on the other side of the road provide some protection for those with longer-range guns.

Then the big shape is on the move with the things creeping out of the ground just behind him.

Where the horse steps, things wither and turn to dust. There is an aura around the monster. It hangs dark and ominous. Edwina doesn’t really
want to die, but if she is going to bite it today, at least it will be with her family.

Marcel is dressed in her full leathers. Black boots that lick up her thighs and leave a tiny amount of bronzed flesh exposed beneath a skintight black leather skirt. Her tits pop out of her equally tight top, displaying enough cleavage to be just as hot as hell.

She carries an assault rifle over her shoulder in place of a purse. It’s a pretty little AR-15 with a short barrel and a place to slide her arm into the stock. She keeps it slung over her back and walks to the edge of the road. The creature grows close, the massive steed puffing dark steam as it gallops toward them.

It doesn’t seem interested in stopping, and Marcel doesn’t seem interested in moving out of the way. She reaches for the holster at her side and draws an enormous handgun. She raises it in the air and fires one warning shot. The noise is a boom that echoes up the hillside, rolls away like thunder. The figure stops before her, but Marcel doesn’t budge.

Edwina shoots a look over her shoulder and is reassured as every gun in the arsenal is lowered at the man. Maggie lies flat, but the big barrel hangs over the side of the semi and at this range, there is no way she can miss.

The horse puffs and snorts, and black horse-slobbery shit falls in a puddle. The figure drops its cowl, and reveals not the skeletal face with fangs and blood dripping from its eyes that Edwina expected, but the visage of an older man. He has a large bald head and glasses, and when he attempts to smile only one side of his face quirks up.

“I am War,” the man rasps. He extends one hand and gestures behind him. An army of dead is clawing its way free of the grass and dirt. The corpses moan and howl as their heads turn to find their leader.

“I am Marcel.”

“Stand aside, woman, I bring death and destruction. You shall not hinder me.” His voice vibrates inside Edwina’s brain as though someone were drilling inside her skull. Each time he speaks, she wants to bite her tongue in half to stop the pain.

“Fuck you. You fucking pig.” Marcel lowers the Magnum and holds it in one steady hand.

“You have no idea of the power I possess. If I so desire, I will lower my hand and the army behind me will eat the souls of those who stand behind you. I will take your head and use it to piss in. I will …” He cuts off with a surprised look as a hole appears in his forehead.

Marcel has heard enough. The thunderous boom of her gun rings across the field again. The man whips back out of the saddle and falls to the ground in a pile of tattered black cloth. Then he turns to dust before their eyes. His robe puffs into ash and is swept along by the wind. The
horse screams, and little jets of fire snort from its nose … and it falls over. Its flesh takes on a stony appearance and crumbles when it strikes the ground.

“Holy shit!” Edwina exclaims.

“Holy fucking shit!” Darla outdoes her.

The girls holler their approval as Marcel turns and gives a bow. She strides back to the truck.

“Darla, wanna get out of here or do you want to do some target practice?”

“I feel like shooting stuff,” she calls back, her eyes on the slowly advancing army.

“Right. Well those fuckers look kinda like zombies to me. Like the stupid movies. So I say we shoot them all in the head. Seemed to do well enough by the big guy on the horse.”

More calls erupt from the ladies, and one even fires, dropping a corpse with a shot to the brainpan. Dirt and bone fly in every direction as its head explodes. Grinning, Marcel holsters her handgun, brings up the rifle and starts shooting at a steady pace. Fire, one drops. Fire, another head explodes.

Edwina pulls her own rifle off her back and takes a few steps toward the rotting army. The foul things move like they are walking through mud. She takes aim at a man dressed in the tatters of an old red flannel shirt. Big beer gut hangs in front as he waddles along with the others.

She fires and blows off one of his arms. It spins him around, but his only reaction is to pause as though remembering something he’d forgotten, then slowly turn to face her again. Maggots swarm around his nose and eyes, and big worms drop out of his mouth along with dirt and clumps of shit she doesn’t even want to think about identifying.

The next shot blows half his head to the side, and he falls forward with a thump.

The ladies open up. Guns chatter all along the hasty firing line, and wherever they aim, bodies fall and crumble. Edwina tugs her own handgun out and walks up to the edge of the desolated land and opens up. She aims, steadies, takes a breath and drops one. Then another. She empties the clip and at least five or six of the things fall.

The ground crackles and rolls around them. The women laugh at the slow, awkward ghouls shambling toward them. There are hundreds, maybe a thousand, but they move so sluggishly that they can be picked off with ease.

“How come it isn’t this easy in the movies?” Edwina glances at Darla, who has a big fucking shotgun in the crook of her arm and is shooting the things in the head if they get too close.

“Hell if I know. These fuckers are easy to kill. Easy peasy.” BLAM!
One of them falls over. He might have worn a business suit at one time, but now the damn thing is covered in rot, and one of his sleeves hangs loose from a missing arm.

“Found it!” one of the Asian twins calls out. She struts out of the side of the truck with a bandolier slung around her chest, its giant explosive green eggs nestled between her boobs. She pulls out a grenade, yanks the pin out, then takes two big steps and lobs it right into a group of four deadies.

The explosion isn’t as loud as Edwina anticipates. It shakes the ground, sure. And puffs of smoke pour around the blast, check. Of course body parts fly. One of the dead things, a little girl of about twelve, is tossed into the air and cartwheels over and over until she smashes into two grown-up corpses.

“And the dead shall walk the earth.”

“Not that one.” Marcel mutters and then opens up with her sweet-ass machine gun again. Edwina has wanted to test fire it forever but hasn’t found the guts to ask. Marcel spits out two shots per corpse. Gets each one right in the head, for the most part. If they are lurching too much, it becomes more of a challenge. Sometimes they get it in the neck or the chest. But they get it.

The ground is covered in the things. A few retain enough brain matter to crawl around, but the girls put them out of their misery. The women hoot and catcall as they challenge each other. So far Tonia seems to be in the lead; she has an AK-47, and that fucker never jams. She is on her fourth clip and it’s still rattling away like an old Maytag.

When none of the bodies moves anymore, the women pack it in. Darla walks around her baby, checking the tires, the sides, the grill. She looks over her shoulder a few times, but none of the zombies comes after her.

A shape flits across the sky, and Edwina stops in her tracks to stare up at it. The thing glides through a series of graceful acrobatic maneuvers. She wonders if it is some kind of giant hawk or eagle on the hunt.