Sven the Zombie Slayer (44 page)

“That pudding guy is creepy,” Lorie said. “I don’t like him.”

“You haven’t even met him,” Sven said. “He might just be quirky.” Sven sighed. “Then again, what’s with the hand in our face?”

Lorie had a bad feeling about meeting the portly pudding. “I don’t like it.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Sven stopped the car and Lorie watched him put it in park and remove the keys.

“Wait,” Lorie said, “are you sure you don’t want to leave the car running?”

“I’m sure. We’re digging in.” Sven put the keys in a pocket of the duck pants and put his hand on one of the machetes. Lorie watched him staring ahead at the pudding, as if looking through the scene into another world—but that was silly.

Then Sven was getting out of the car. Jane opened her door next, and then Lorie scrambled out, clutching her knife at her side. She ran around the back of the car and helped Evan wobble out. Then she and Evan joined Sven and Jane, who were already standing in front of the car.

The pudding spoke first. “Halt I say! Please elucidate your intentions. As you may have discerned, there are zombies afoot.”

Lorie could see the pudding clearly now, and though she understood that what he had just said could be interpreted as funny, there was something so weird about him that she couldn’t laugh. It was clear he didn’t mean it as a joke anyway, he was serious.

There was a bandage wound around his head, and it made his face bulge in places. To Lorie it looked like his neck had thrown up to form the blob of his head, and then the top of his head had thrown up downward at the line of the bandage to form his face.

The pudding wasn’t a pretty sight, and he made Lorie think of the computer geeks at her school. The resemblance between some of them and the man now in front of her was striking.

“Ahem,” the pudding went on with an air of importance. “I repeat, please apprise me of your intentions.”

Sven looked at the pudding for a moment, then turned to the other guy, the one that he said was named Brian.

Brian was walking toward Sven. “I can’t believe it. Sven? That is you right?”

Sven nodded.

“Thank God,” Brian said. “It’s just been me and Milt so far—” Brian gestured at the pudding, “—and I wasn’t sure we’d be seeing anyone else.”

So the pudding is called Milt, Lorie thought, makes sense.

“Excuse me!” Milt bellowed, raising his sheathed sword and shaking it at Sven and Brian. “
I
am in charge here, you will address yourselves to me.”

Brian looked at Milt and shook his head sadly. “Milt, it’s okay, these are friends. I know Sven from way back.” Brian turned back to Sven. “Sorry, he’s had a shock I think, he’s alright though.”

“We’ve all had a shock,” Sven said, offering his hand to Milt. Sven’s gesture reminded Lorie of her general unease, and she began glancing around the parking lot, making sure none of those things were approaching them.

“Oh very well,” Milt said, and shook Sven’s hand.

Lorie watched as the adults all made their introductions, quickly relating a summary of their respective day’s experiences. Brian pointed and asked about the surgical masks, and Jane explained their experiences with the zombie odor so far.

Then Lorie and Evan were introduced. Lorie watched Milt’s eyes grow wide after looking her and Evan up and down, and she wondered what it was about her and Evan that Milt was reacting too. She couldn’t know that, but she did know that she didn’t like him, and she wasn’t going to trust him. He was the kind of guy to keep an eye on, even if the other adults dismissed him as just being “weird,” or “having had a shock.”

Lorie cleared her throat and spoke up. “It is very nice meeting you and all, but shouldn’t we be getting inside? Evan needs to rest.”

Sven nodded. “That is why we came here.” He turned to Brian and Milt. “Have you guys been in the Wegmans? We were planning on holing up in there for a while until we know more about what’s going on.” He paused and looked uneasy. “Is there a reason you’re out here and not in there?”

Brian looked like he was about to say something, but Milt beat him to it. “I concur, we do need shelter, and evening is fast approaching. Before your troupe arrived, I sent Brian on a reconnaissance mission into the Wegmans. He had just returned and was about to give me his complete report when you pulled up in your vehicle. Please Brian, you may proceed.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “You didn’t send me, Milt. Remember? I left. You didn’t want me to go because you were afraid that those—” Brian made eye contact with Lorie and stopped mid-thought. “Never mind. Yeah, there is a reason we’re out here and not in there, and I was about to tell Milt about the Wegmans when you guys got here.” Brian smiled. “Damn it’s good you’re here Sven. You too Jane, it’s been a while. And the kids too, of course. This is a real good sign. We’re gonna pull through this. You guys have some mean-looking weapons and...we’re gonna get through this right?”

“Please,” Milt said, “put your blubbering under control and commence your report.”

“Milt,” Brian said sternly. “Relax, you need to sit back down in the shade. You have heatstroke.”

“I have no such thing!”

Brian turned to Sven. “Do you see what I’ve had to put up with here?”

Sven shook his head and sighed. “Yeah. So what’s the deal with the Wegmans? We need to rest, and Evan—” Sven pointed behind him, “—he’s not feeling so good.”

Brian glanced at Evan, who had by now sat down on the wet pavement. He was seated, and looked wobbly.

“Okay,” Brian said. “I imagine you all know what’s going on with the zombies...well...there’s zombies in there.” He jerked a thumb at the Wegmans. “A decent amount. I counted twenty-one, but I think there are a few more than that.”

“That reminds me,” Milt said. “Where is the Coca-Cola that you were supposed to fetch for me?”

Brian ignored Milt.

“Okay,” Sven said. “Let’s clean it up and lock it down. You in?”

“Of course I’m in,” Brian said. “I’m sure as hell not gonna stay out here all night.”

“Very well,” Milt said, “I will lead you into battle.”

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Lorie said, locking eyes with Milt. “Aren’t you hurt?”

“Thank you for your concern, little girl, but I am quite well.”

“Someone needs to stay out here with the kids while we do this,” Jane said.

Lorie was angry at once. “What do you mean stay with the kids? I was pretty good back there with those zombies in the restaurant, and in the gun store! Why do I have to stay out here?”

“Because,” Jane said, turning to Lorie, “it’s dangerous, and, well...you’re kids.”

Lorie pouted. “The children are our future and all that?”

Sven shrugged. “Lorie was really good with the knives back in—”

“Sven!” Jane hissed. “You’re not helping. Look Lorie, if you stay out here and help to look after Evan, I’ll give you a short shooting lesson. How does that sound?”

Lorie was speechless for a moment. “Yeah? Really?”

“Really.”

“Let’s shake on it.” Lorie extended her hand to Jane, and Jane shook it.

“We have a deal,” Lorie said.

“We do,” Jane agreed.

“Alright,” Sven said, “let’s go.”

He began to walk toward the Wegmans entrance.

Jane took a few steps after him. “Do you wanna leave Ivan with me?”

The cat’s meowing head was resting on Sven’s shoulder, the rest of its body hidden in the backpack.

Sven turned around. “No, Ivan stays with me.”

He turned back to the Wegmans and took to walking again.

“Hey tough guy!” Jane yelled after watching him for a while.

He turned around.

Jane put her hands on her hips. “How would you feel about loading that shotgun, and maybe learning how to use it?”

Sven looked dumbstruck. He hung his head and walked back to Jane. “That’s a good point. I’m getting a little ahead of myself.”

Lorie looked on as Jane showed Sven how to load the shotgun and how to use it. Milt sniggered and pontificated the whole time, going on about the Queen of England and using what Lorie assumed was video game jargon. The guy was too much, and Lorie wished he wasn’t around. She also didn’t like the way he looked at her, her serrated knife, or Evan. Come to think of it, she didn’t like the way Milt looked at any of them, like he was better than all of them.

After Jane had finished with him, Sven started off toward the Wegmans again, looking far less confident than he had before.

“Hey,” Brian said, coming up behind Sven, “watch out for that area over there.” He pointed to the middle of the parking lot. Lorie looked where he was pointing and saw a mass of zombie flesh, bodies and parts strewn about, soaked by the rain.

That’s interesting, she thought, maybe Jane and I can do some target practice.

“Let’s go around this way,” Brian said, and he began to lead Sven around the perimeter of the parking lot toward the Wegmans entrance. Sven and Brian strode toward the store at a quick pace, and Milt trudged behind them, struggling to keep up.

Lorie watched as Sven and Brian disappeared into the Wegmans, and watched for a few moments longer until Milt disappeared too.

Then she turned to Jane. “I think it’s time for my lesson,” Lorie said, and grinned.

86

The vegan with the handlebar moustache was hobbling down the road. He had two cartons of Luckies tightly clutched under his left arm.

At random intervals throughout his hobbling, he shot feverish glances over his shoulder, and took long pulls on his cigarette.

They’re coming, he thought, the shambling, unstoppable servants of Satan.

The vegan stuck his cigarette in his mouth and took a hard drag, feeling his cheeks form deep dimples. While the cigarette hung from his mouth, he fingered the golden cross that dangled from his neck, a gift from his long-deceased, exceptionally pious grandmother. She had put the fear of God in him, and she had warned him that a day like this would come.

It is all in God’s plan, she had said, and apparently, it was.

But what about me, the vegan wondered, what’s in God’s plan for me? He knew what his grandmother would have said, that the meaning and logic of God’s plan were only for God to know, and humans could do no more than marvel at it.

Feeling a slight inspiration at the memory of his grandmother, the vegan let go of the cross, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and hobbled faster.

A few feet from the next intersection, the vegan stopped to pant through his cigarette, his bloodshot eyes searching for shelter—for a place to hide.

Nothing. Just another bare intersection.

I’m hobbling like a hobo, he thought, looking for a hiding place…true homeless behavior. He squeezed his wounded thigh and felt the pain rush upward through his body. It was terrible, but it wasn’t ghoul-inflicted.

The vegan took his cigarette in one hand, and he reflected on the events of the day, feeling nicotine and pain course powerfully through him.

It had been such a wonderful morning. He had gone to work, and he and his co-worker, Rainee, had picked up their shipment of avocados, the bulk of which were destined for the Charlottesville Whole Foods, the balance to be delivered to Kroger. The vegan proudly refused to transport any animal products, and liked to call himself
The Vegan Transporter.
He relished the title.