Sven the Zombie Slayer (63 page)

Sven smiled. “I’ll overlook it.”

“I’m glad to see you’re in high spirits.”

“Good one!” Lorie said. “High spirits! Get it?”

Jane was lost. “What?”

Lorie’s grin broadened. “High. Spirits. Get it?”

Jane shook her head.

Lorie sighed, still smiling. “We’re high up, and we have
spirits.
” Lorie pointed to the neat rows of liquor bottles.

“Oh,” Jane said. “Okay.” The girl did have a weird sense of humor.

Sven’s eyes narrowed. “So what’s with the rags and bottles of 151…and are those gasoline cans?”

Lorie threw up her hands. “Am I the only one that knows how to make a proper Molotov cocktail?”

Sven gave the girl an odd look. “Probably.”

Then he turned to Jane. “Wait what? You’re going to burn them? Shooting not your thing anymore?”

“The gun shop was burned to the ground when we passed it on the way here. I’m low on ammo, and…we picked all this stuff up on the way down here, stopped at a couple ABC Stores and a gas station. The rags are from downstairs—they’re just torn up towels.”

Lorie chimed in excitedly. “The fire will dry them up faster. We think that’s what’s happening to them, they’re drying up and crumpling to nothing.”

“I think she’s right,” Jane said. “And I can take no credit for the Molotov stuff either. Lorie’s the mastermind behind all of it. She’s sharp.”

Sven looked unconvinced. “And you know how to make a Molotov cocktail because…why?”

“That’s what she said!” Lorie said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t either of you pay attention in school? They cover this stuff in history class.”

“Not in my history class,” Sven said.

“Or mine,” Jane agreed.

“Whatever, now you know.”

“Okay,” Sven said, “so we burn them and then what?”

Jane and Lorie filled Sven in on what the military people had said about the outbreak dying down and being brought under control.

“So this is the end of it?” Sven asked when they had finished.

Jane shrugged, and recovered her bag of potato chips from the ground. “If it is, it is. If not, we’re locked up good in here. We’ll burn them for as long as we can, and then we’ll run again. There’s gas in the Sven-mobile.”

That seemed to satisfy Sven.

Jane popped a chip in her mouth, savoring the salty, smoky flavor.

Then, after some instruction from Lorie, they each took turns hurling Molotov cocktails from the roof, down to the gathering undead beneath them.

The cocktails were mixed about half and half 151 and gasoline. Lorie said there was usually another component, but Lorie didn’t remember what it was.

The mixtures they used worked better than Jane had expected, and after attaching rags to the bottles, lighting the rags, and tossing about half of the prepared cocktails from the roof, they all stopped to watch.

The zombies came, walking into the flames, their stumbling alacrity in destroying themselves a bitter relief to behold.

Many never made it, their bodies coming apart long before they reached the pyre, falling into pieces about the tennis courts.

The flames licked the air over the burning congregation, and Jane imagined that the crackling fire was burning the deadly, numbing odor out of the air.

Cutting up through the sky from the west, the brilliant streaks of red that accompanied the sunset gave the disgusting barbecue a surreal flavor.

They stayed on the roof, watching until the last of the walking dead had crumpled.

It
was
over, Jane knew it—could feel it even.

The air was changed, not changed all the way back to the way it had been, but changed all the same. Jane could smell the flowers and the grass again, now that the overpowering stench of the zombies had been removed.

It made her feel hopeful, and when she closed her eyes and the thoughts emptied from her mind, it felt like the world was back to normal.

122

Sven was running down a dark road. It resembled Route 29 except that the strip malls that he passed were filled with burnt-out, unrecognizable skeletons of buildings.

There was a sense of desolation, and of fear.

Sven ran hard, pumping his arms up and down and kicking his knees up high. It was a faster run than he was capable of in real life, and his speed and agility surprised him.

He was wearing his man-tard, so his movements were unrestricted.

In his left hand he had a grip trainer that he was pumping within inches of its squeaky death, and in his right hand was a feather quill pen.

A feather quill pen? What the hell was that for?

He looked down at his left forearm and watched his muscles bulge. His body fat was very low. That was good. He was close to competition form now.

Then Sven saw something in the darkness ahead of him and it was all he could do to stop himself in time.

Their eyes were...they were burning. The things’ eyes were lit up with a black fire...and there were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, in a throng that took up the whole of the road before him.

They had appeared out of nowhere, and now he was backing up to stay out of their clutches. They were shambling, but their shamble had a bounce to it, almost like they were gamboling at him, excited to tear his untarnished muscular flesh apart, biting and tearing…and the eyes were boring into him, into his very soul—

Sven’s eyes opened and he jerked awake, beginning to crawl backward, startled in his disorientation.

Then he remembered. They were in the basement of Mem Gym. Everything was going to be alright…well not alright, but they had lived through it.

It was mostly, if not completely, over. There was no reason to be having dreams like that. The zombies were dying, crumpling under the weight of their disease. It had just been a disease—no evil in those black eyes after all. It had been a terrible viral outbreak, and now it was going to be over and life would return to some semblance of ordinariness.

Sven surveyed the space they were in until he was satisfied that they were alone.

“Good cat,” Sven whispered to Ivan, who was padding around the rearranged gym mats, apparently keeping watch. Sven knew that if something—one of the diseased—drew near, Ivan would alert them all at once.

“You’re the best cat ever.”

Ivan padded over to Sven. Sven petted Ivan a few times, and the cat purred gently. Then Sven settled back onto his smelly gym mat, closed his eyes, and told himself not to dream.

Don’t dream, don’t dream, don’t dream, don’t...

He repeated the mantra over and over again as he was falling asleep, but it didn’t work.

123

Lorie woke, not sure where she was at first. Then she saw Sven and Jane still sleeping, and it all hit her like a ton of bricks.

She peeled herself off the raunchy gym mat she had gotten stuck with and got up. Ivan brushed up against her legs as she rubbed some of the sleep from her eyes. She gave Ivan a light pat on the head.

Then she picked up her serrated hunting knife, and began to walk down the hall.

The stillness of the vast basement was unsettling.

Lorie left the side area in which she had been sleeping with the others and turned into the basement’s main hallway. She began to walk in slow, measured steps, almost tiptoeing, and had the strange feeling that she was walking down the nave of a cathedral, a feeling that added to her paranoia.

As she proceeded down the hallway, Lorie held her knife high and swung it from side to side with each step. She kept glancing behind her, making sure nothing was sneaking up on her.

There wasn’t anyone behind her except for Ivan, who was watching her with wide cat eyes and following from a distance.

Lorie came to the foot of the stairs. It was still quiet, and no one had come looking for her, so Sven and Jane were probably still sleeping. Lorie walked up the first set of stairs to Mem Gym’s first floor. She looked behind her and saw Ivan padding up the stairs in tow. He was keeping quiet too, as if they were both in on the silent game.

She walked across the lobby and up to Mem Gym’s large doors. She slowed down as she got closer, then crouched down. She wanted to have a look outside, but didn’t want anyone or anything outside to spot her.

She half crawled and half duck-walked over to the doors, then sat down under one of the door’s windows with her back to it. Ivan came over to her and nuzzled against her knee, prompting her to set her knife down on the floor.

Lorie took a deep breath. She wanted to see. It was like those movies her mom told her she couldn’t watch—that just made her want to see them more. But it was different than a movie too, because it wasn’t a movie, and there was something truly horrible outside, and she wanted to see just how horrible it was.

Even with everything she had seen in the past few days, she wanted more. She wanted to see the mangled, rotten corpses. She wanted to see the destroyed bodies. She wanted to see it all.

She surveyed the lobby for a moment to make sure that she was alone. Survival came first, no matter how enticing the gore outside was.

There was no one with her there except Ivan. He was looking at her, and Lorie was sure he was as curious as she was.

Lorie smiled. “You know what it’s about, don’t you?”

Lorie picked Ivan up in her arms and raised him to the window. She picked him up high enough so that he could look outside too, and she was satisfied when he stared out, apparently as engrossed in the scene as she was.

“That’s what I thought. See all those bodies?”

Ivan meowed.

“Do you think we’re bad people?”

Ivan turned and looked up at Lorie with his curious eyes, then he turned back to the writhing carnage—and it
was
writhing, unbelievably alive in death.

A sprinkle of early morning rain was falling on the charred corpses of the undead, and on the many equally charred but detached pieces of corpses.

Lorie thought the detached pieces were the most interesting to look at—the nastiest bits, moving, beckoning, struggling to be…

124

Jane woke with a start. She didn’t know where she was, and for a second she thought she had been kidnapped and locked away in a basement—a dank one that smelled of body odor and chalk. Then it began to come back to her and she remembered the previous two days. Had it all been a dream?

Of course it had all been a dream. But how had she ended up in here, with Sven lying beside her? Had she gotten drunk with him and stolen away to some basement for an after-party? She had resolved not to start things up with him again, it was too frustrating and painful and there was no future in—