Killer Z (15 page)
“They’re zombies. Don’t you watch
TV?” Larry asks as they make their way through the dark, filthy streets.
“Television is evil,” Natalie
bristles.
“How’s television evil?”
“It takes you away from doing
God’s will.”
“I don’t believe in God, only in
myself.”
Natalie makes an indignant noise.
“Shut up Natalie, I hear a
zombie.”
He
yanks her down behind a pile of rubble. A band of zombies shamble past them.
Fires dimly illuminate the creatures. Some move fast while the damaged ones
drag themselves slowly by. He aims his gun.
“Save your bullets,” Natalie
whispers.
“Why?”
Larry lowers the gun hesitantly as
she says, “The CDC thought they could usurp the Lord with their drugs. The
disease is in the binding of the pill.
“What are you talking about,” he
hisses, nervous they’ll be heard.
“A week ago I informed the feds
the doctors were playing God.”
“How were they playing God?”
Natalie talks about the patients
waking from comas as crazed monsters.
At the end of the narration he
asks, “Why is it spreading?”
“This is the final judgment. Man
has gone too far and Jesus is returning.”
“Can you please stop with the
Jesus bullshit? Is there a cure?”
“There’s no cure for God’s
judgment.”
A female
zombie with a hollowed out face turns towards Natalie’s voice. They freeze,
remaining still and silent until the creature passes. Gun shots echo in the
distance. Once the street is clear, they move on cautiously.
He
motions for Natalie to be silent. Voices ring out in argument a block away.
They crouch behind another car and he peers around the bumper. Down the street,
a group of armed men menacingly point guns at Saint Mary's Episcopal Church. An
overturned compact car lies across the sanctuary’s steps. One of men leaps on
top of the vehicle.
“Knock, knock!” M2 shouts.
“Seth
said he wants art supplies. He didn’t say nothin’ bout attacking churches,” a
thug says.
“Don’t get your panties in a
bunch,” another says.
A deacon with rolled up sleeves
and a balding head emerges from the church.
“We don’t want any trouble,” the
deacon says.
“Too bad,” M2 says.
“We offer shelter but you have to
leave your weapons outside.”
M2 shoots the deacon in the gut
with a
bang
.
“We need to do something,” Natalie
gasps.
“We’re out numbered.”
The men rain bullets upon the
heavy ornate doors of the church.
“C’mon
M2, this is boring, let’s go hit a pharmacy,” someone whines. “I feel like
shit.”
“Ugh,
fine,” M2 says and yells. ““We’ll be back in the morning.”
M2
punctuates his threat with another spray of gun fire. Laughing, Seth’s thugs
wander away. Larry watches the church and debates if it’s an ambush.
“That’s a house of God,” Natalie
says and stands up.
“There’s a police station two
blocks away with guns.”
“We don’t need guns when we have
Jesus.”
“Tell Jesus to get us out of here
then.”
Larry knows from endless hours of
watching zombie movies that guns are vital for survival. Against his better
judgment he follows her.
“Maybe the church has holy water
and a priest. He can bless your gun.”
“No thanks.”
Larry stops half way up the steps
and says, “I’ll come back for you then, okay?”
“At least wait for someone to open
the door.”
Natalie raps her knuckles on the
door. No answer. Larry walks up the steps and bangs on the door.
With his best authoritative voice
he bellows, “I’m an officer with the MPDC!”
Shadowy faces appear in the side
windows. The door cracks open and an older man peers out. The cop taps a finger
on his badge to draw the man’s attention.
“Let them in, Bob,” a voice calls
out.
Looking
skeptical the man opens the door a little wider.
“We don’t allow guns in Gods
house,” Bob says.
A middle aged priest with a
spectacles brushes past Bob.
“But they shot Jim. Are you two
with the others?” Bob demands.
“No we’re not,” Larry says and
holsters his gun. “My lady friend, Natalie, is seeking sanctuary for a few
hours.”
Natalie’s prim hair-do is frazzled
and pink scrubs are messy but she still looks charming to Larry as she offers a
weak smile to the priest.
“You’re both welcome to come in,”
the priest says.
“Natalie, wait here. Do you guys
want guns to protect the church?”
“We don’t believe in guns,” the
priest says.
“I mean no disrespect Father, but
I think God doesn’t give a shit.”
“Larry, they don’t need guns, this
is a house of the Lord,” Natalie says. “Please forgive his disrespect Father.”
“Whatever,” Larry says and exits
the church. He’s on high alert as clip-clops echo sharply a block from the
station. A zombie police officer on an undead horse groans as the horse enters
the intersection. Larry aims at the horse’s eye with his gun but pauses. The
zombie catches scent of him and reaches out blindly but tumbles to the street.
At the loss of its rider the infected beast gallops away.
“See where duty leads you?” Larry
snickers.
The zombie cop, weight down by
body armor, struggles to its feet and groans.
“You’re a slow ass motherfucker
aren’t you? Not worth the bullet.”
A
parking meter lies nearby, bent and broken at its base. Picking up the heavy
meter, he swings, and catches the zombie on the arm, causing both it and Larry
stumble. He drops the cumbersome meter and backs into a SWAT van.
The
zombie lunges at him. He catches hold of its jacket and slams the creature’s
head repeatedly into the side of the van. Head smashed like an overripe melon,
the zombie crumples to the pavement.
“You have the right to be dead,
fucker,” Larry says, chest heaving.
After catching his breath, he jogs
to the two story red brick police station. The security grate is locked down
but the garage bay is partly open. None of the lights work. In Central Dispatch
the contents of the desks are scattered across the floor. Bodies of officers
lay over desks and across the floor. In the locker room he finds a Kevlar vest
hanging out of a bent locker. He picks it up and puts it on. Next he snags an
empty black duffle bag from the floor. Faint sounds come from the prisoner’s
holding area.
“Shut up fucker,” a baritone voice
hisses. “You’re a whiny piece of shit that deserves to die.”
“You’re a dead man,” another male
says.
Larry
enters the room and shines his flashlight into the eyes of two men in separate
cells. A burly guy with full tattoo sleeves clings to the bars. In the opposite
cell is a skinny man with a beak like nose.
“What happened to the station?”
Larry demands.
“Everyone
got killed. Eaten, zombie style,” the tattooed man says with a laugh.
The
bird man pleads, “C’mon let me out. I’m innocent, seriously.”
“Why, so you can go cause more
trouble in the streets? You’re safer in here.”
“No way man!” the tattoo prisoner
shouts and rattles the bars. “Let us out you fucking pig!”
“Go to hell.”
The smaller man curses, “What kind
of sick dumb fuck are you?”
“I’m here for the guns, not
punks.”
“C’mon, man,” the big man calls
out as Larry walks away. “I was just sleeping off a bender.”
In the next room are lockers full
of riot gear and weapons. He doesn’t bother with the riot gear and goes
straight for the gun cage and takes many guns and grenades.
A noise causes him to spin around.
An officer with a contorted, pale face stands at the door leading to the kennel
area. Behind the zombie are several other undead officers. He kicks the first
zombie in the chest and bolts back into the prisoner holding area.
“Found your buddies, eh piggy
wiggly?” the biker taunts.
Larry drops the duffle bag and
points the assault rifle at the door. The zombies rush in and he shoots a
single round with a
bang
.
The rifle has mild recoil. The
zombie’s head explodes in a shower of gore. He shifts the green laser to
another head and it too explodes. Within seconds the zombies fall into headless
heaps.
“Where
do you think you’re going pig?” the bigger prisoner says as his tattooed arm
snakes between the bars.
A
meaty hand takes hold of Larry’s neck. He drops the rifle and claws at the arm.
“Grab his gun!” the big man
snarls.
“It’s too far away. I can’t reach
it.”
The
iron bars dig into Larry’s back as his face goes beet-red from a lack of
oxygen. His vision becomes fuzzy. Struggling to break free, he locates his
knife and slams it into the prisoner’s arm. The big man howls in pain and
releases him. Larry sucks in deep gulps of air and reaches for the rifle. He
stands there with the rifle pointed at them and his chest heaving.
The
prisoners back up in their cages.
“You’re not worth the bullets,
assholes,” Larry snarls. “I sentence you to death by starvation.”
Their
screams echo behind him as he grabs the duffle bag and leaves the station.
“I
t’s not my fault,” Kyle shouts and grabs a nearby
chair.
“I didn’t say it was, Kyle. Maybe
if we pray….” Fred pleads.
Kyle slams the chair against the
wall. Michael and Rebecca pause at the doorway as guards rush in.
“I never wanted the brat. Stupid
bitch wouldn’t get a damn abortion. Fuck her, fuck that brat, and fuck your
stupid God!”
“Calm down, son!”
“What’s God ever done for me?”
Kyle flings the broken chair
across the room.
“Michael, we need to go,” Rebecca
whispers as Michael watches the argument.
“Sir, please calm down,” a guard
says to Kyle.
“Screw you! It’s a free country,”
Kyle shrills and backs into a table.
A police officer enters the room.
The cop gives Rebecca a brief look and scans Kyle and Fred. Juliet and Harry
sit on a mat in the far corner.
“Please, sir. I think he’s been
abusing drugs,” Fred says and offers Kyle’s backpack to the officer.
“Give
that back!” Kyle shrieks and pulls out his gun.
The
guards draw their guns as Kyle tries to shoot but his gun clicks empty.
“Should we shoot him?” a
guard asks.
“Maybe he’s infected,” another
says.
“Wait! Don’t shoot my son!” Fred
yells in shock.
“Becket can decide,” the cop says.
“Dad, you dumb old fuck! What have
you done?”
The guards tackle Kyle as he
reaches for the flare gun. The police officer opens the backpack and reveals
Killer Z, a gold bar, cash, and a rare jewel.
“Is that the Hope Diamond?” a
guard asks.
“It needed protecting from the
earthquake. I’m a Smithsonian employee!”
“Son, you stole diamonds too?”
“Handcuff the thief,” the guard
says.
“This is Killer Z,” the police
officer announces. “We have reason to believe addicts on Killer Z are a danger.
Everyone line up against the wall.”
“Time to leave, Rebecca.”
“What about Mark?” Rebecca hisses
as they slip out of the building.
“We can’t go back inside. They’ll
lock us up with the others.”
“Michael, it’s so not fair!”
“No, it’s not fair you tricked me
into taking that damn drug.”
They weave and duck through the
scattered wreckage covering Pennsylvania Avenue without a flashlight. In the
commotion they forgot their belongings but fires in the surrounding buildings
provide dim light.
“Why don’t you take
responsibility? I never made you take anything and I was only trying to help
your pain.”
A deafening
bang
stops their heated communication.
Michael grabs her hand and they
run to the side of a ruined building. He presses her against the crumbling
brick wall.
“Michael, what’s happening?”
“Keep quiet.”
“I can’t see anything with you
smothering me.”
A man wearing only boxers runs
down the dark street chased by a dozen armed men. M2 shoots a single burst from
an AK-47 into the man’s back and then sprays the corpse with twenty five
bullets in two seconds. Trailing the gang is a group of leashed and handcuffed
woman.
“Maybe we should go back to the
post office,” Rebecca says.
Michael agrees and they sneak back
to the building only to find a smaller group of armed men standing on the
steps.
“Do I have your attention?” Andrew
yells to the building.
“What do you want,” Becket shouts
from a window.
Michael and Rebecca keep to the
shadows.
“We want everything,” Andrew
shouts and points at the building. “Ok boys, give ‘er another spray down to
show we mean business.”
Return fire comes from the upper
windows. The gang ducks for cover and shoots back.
“Let’s get Seth and score more
guns,” Andrew says.
Rebecca
sneezes. The armed men twirl and point their guns at the married couple.
“What
do we have here?” Andrew sneers.
Andrew
wraps an arm around Rebecca’s neck and tears her away from Michael.
“Let
me go, asshole!” Rebecca cries as she tries elbowing Andrew.
Andrew
backhands her and takes out handcuffs.
“Leave
her alone,” Michael screams.
His
head explodes in pain as the butt of a gun slams into his temple. Everything
goes black.
***
Head hurting, Michael opens his
eyes. All around him are masterpieces with horribly drawn faces are crudely
painted over them Sprawled around him are four corpses with slit throats.
“Ahhh, the sacrifice awakens,”
Seth says. “I was showing Rebecca my latest masterpiece.”
Rebecca stands next to a skinny,
disheveled man with thinning ginger hair and beady eyes. Seth holds a pistol in
one hand and a pill in another.
“Take your damn pill and shove it
up your ass!” Rebecca snaps.
“Is she always such a bitch after
getting laid? We had fun passing her around. Here bitch, you deserve a bonus
for doing such a wonderful job.”
Rebecca slaps the pill out of
Seth’s hand and the Z falls to the floor. Seth smacks her and she lands
next to Michael. Her face is battered and bruised.
“Are you ok?” Michael asks.
“No, he’s going to kill us,” she
says, her eyes fixed on the madman.
“Bitchhh,” Seth interrupts with a
roar. “Come here and get me off.”
“Screw you faggot!”
“Stupid, greedy, lazy bitch...”
“Seth!” a thug yells into the
room. “What do you want to do with the Old Post Office?”
“Did you find Lin?”
“We know he took the Zs inside but
they’re armed and have the place locked down.”
“Bring me his head.”
“Andrew needs you downstairs to
help figure out a plan.”
Seth strides from the room
mumbling, “Why do I have to do everything?”
The double doors click shut. A
guard takes position with a rifle resting in his arms. Rebecca stares at the
pill lying on the floor and looks at the guard.
She gets to her feet and says,
“Please, let us go. You already had your fun with me.”
The guard ignores her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Seth has the Zs.”
“You mean that?” she asks,
pointing the fallen pill.
The
guard walks over and bends over. Rebecca seizes a painter’s stool and smacks
the thug on the back of the head. He crumples to the floor.
Michael
and Rebecca look at each other. She runs to the door and locks it as he picks
up the guard’s gun. A few seconds later the door rattles.
“Open up,” Seth says and knocks.
“How are we getting out?” Michael
asks, holding the gun awkwardly.
Rebecca
snatches the rifle from his hands and jams the gun through the door handles.
She peers out of the broken window.
“Shit
Michael, we’re three stories up.”
“Open the mother fucking doors!”
Seth screams and rattles the door.
Rebecca searches the guard’s
pockets. “I would rather die than let them touch me again.”
“They deserve to die.”
“There’s over forty of them
downstairs and they have other prisoners. We can’t fight them off.”
Rebecca pulls a grey plastic
explosive from the thug’s pocket. Etched on its side is stenciled C4. She
stares at it and says, “I want to take fate in my own hands. I don’t want to be
a zombie.”
“Break the door down!” Seth booms.
She looks at Michael. Finally,
with a sad but resigned expression on his face, he nods. Rebecca places the
plastic explosive in the center of Seth’s masterpiece.
“Might as well go out with a
bang,” Rebecca says with a little broken laugh. “If we’re lucky we can take
them with us.”
Fire axes smack into the door and
the wood splinters. Rebecca presses the buttons to set the timer as Michael
stares at the hellish paintings. He knows she’s right. It’s too late for them.
Michael pulls her close and holds
her tightly as the screen on the timer reads: 10.9.8…
“I want their arms and legs torn
from their torsos!” Seth rages.
The door crumbles. 7.6.5…
Andrew leads a dozen blood thirsty
men into the room.
“I love you Michael, with my whole
heart.”
“I love you too, Rebecca. I have
from the moment I first saw you.”
4.3.2.1…
BOOOOM
.