The Rising Dead (11 page)

“Man I hope so,” Travis said. “I've been trying to get this off the ground for so long. It would suck ass if only a couple hundred turned up. That's why I'm counting on the general public joining in. I've got volunteers with zombie makeup posted all along the route to transform the living into the walking dead.”

“Does that really work?” Vance asked.

“I don't know,” Travis said. “It's never been done before. That's what makes it so cool.”

Travis smirked as Flynn approached him.

“Show us the map,” he said, putting a hand on Travis's shoulder. “I want to take a look at the route again. I can't remember which streets we take.”

Panic shot through Travis. The map was all the way across the room in his desk drawer. If he got up they might see what he was sitting on. He'd have to explain the pictures. There would be no way to avoid it. Then again the last thing he wanted was Flynn pawing through everything in there. He had a little black book full of passwords to fake twitter and Yahoo accounts he'd created during an online raid party from the night before. That would be almost as hard to explain as his coveted stash. They couldn't have come in at a worse time. His only hope was to distract them until they left. He needed a good diversion, or at least an excuse, but in the heat of the moment nothing seemed to come to him.

“Why can't we go over it in the morning before the parade?” It was a weak defense and he knew it. The minute the words were out, he wished he could take them back. The tone was off. He sounded like he was hiding something.

“There's going to be a lot going on and I want to know what the plan is,” Flynn said, eying him suspiciously.

“I'm not sure I have a copy on me,” Travis lied. “The route is listed online though, right on the front of the site.”

“Okay,” Flynn said. “Then let's fire up your laptop and take a look.”

“Not right now,” Travis said, trying to think of a good reason. “I'm pretty tired. I was actually going to take a nap before you turds came barging in.”

“What's really going on McAnus?” Flynn gave him the hard stare.

“Yeah,” Garrett joined in. “What are you hiding?”

There it was, the moment he was hoping to avoid. An accusation had been put forward. He could feel three sets of eyeballs turning to him now. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs like a high pitched siren until they had to leave or their eardrums would burst. He'd never wished to have superpowers so badly before in all his life.

I'd be willing to sell my soul right now for telekinetic powers
, he thought.
All I'd have to do is move them out of the room and close the door.

They all stared at him as if to say, ‘well…come on!’ Finally, Travis couldn't take it anymore.

“I don't need this shit. You can all go to hell!” He snapped. A dirty leer crossed Flynn's face.

“What were you really looking at when we came in?”

If they hadn't been interested before, they were now. Garrett and Vance crowded around the bed, closing in on him. Travis protectively leaned over his book.

“Knock it off,” he scowled, looking more like an angry wet cat than a threat.

“Oh, it must have been good,” Flynn continued. “Something naughty, like gay porn.”

“Why is that the first place you always go?” Garrett asked, rounding on him. “You think everyone is looking at gay porn all the time.”

“Because they are,” Flynn leered. “Usually. Travis didn't flinch when I said it so that's probably not why he's freaking out about getting caught.”

“Unless it's pictures of Garrett and he don't want you to find out” Vance countered.

“Underage Japanese school girls? Tentacle porn? Oh I know, German shit porn.” Each salacious suggestion from his lips seemed to fire Flynn up more than the last.

“That's not his style,” Garrett laughed. “Knowing him it's probably something lame like a girl dressed up as a porno Wonder woman.”

“Did you hide it in the book?”

“I'm warning you,” Travis reiterated in a low growl. “Back off!”

“He was probably just jerking one out to something gory,” Vance said, “like a dead girl.” Travis's stomach churned at the suggestion.

“Yeah,” Garrett snidely laughed. “Or maybe some Tom of Finland art, right Flynn?”

“Whatever it is, it's gotta be good for him to act like this,” Flynn said, loving the attention. He lunged at Travis and grabbed the book, passing it to Garrett. Anxiety raced through Travis like wildfire. If they opened that book up, he'd never hear the end of it. If he got up they'd find the mother lode. He was screwed!

Brains,
thought Travis,
not brawn. That’s how you’ll win. Think of something! Think!

“I’m warning you,” he said as he stopped resisting. “As the official moderator of Zombie Walk Vegas I will bar you from both the event and the convention if you open that book! I swear to Christ!”

“How are you going to keep anyone out of a zombie walk?” Vance laughed. “Good luck with that empty threat bro. There's gonna be a thousand people out in the streets. You said so yourself.”

“Oh but I thought Max was the official last word on the convention,” Flynn said, brushing past the first bluff to get to the one that mattered.

Travis turned a shade of puce.

“If it wasn't for her,” Flynn continued, milking the moment for all it was worth, “we wouldn't even be having the Zombie Walk in the first place, now would we?”

“That's not true,” Travis bellowed. “Tell them, Vance!”

Vance shifted uncomfortably back and forth, still trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

“I don't know, man. Leave me out of it.”

“What happened every time you asked?” Flynn sneered at Travis with willful defiance. “They blew you off. Then along comes fine ass Max, with her Asphyxia Stardust cosplay show and legions of male followers and all of a sudden the city council were falling all over themselves to let our tiny little insignificant town join in the undead fun.”

“That's not true,” Travis roared, knowing full well it was.

“It isn't?” Flynn could see he'd won. He leaned in. “They practically gave that little girl the key to the city, didn't they?”

“Garrett's right,” Travis said. “You’re way too overly dramatic.”

“Thank you,” said Garrett, sounding exasperated. “It's like the Flynn show all the time over here.”

“We are co-event sponsors,” said Travis. “End of story, bro.”

“Normally, I don't like women,” Flynn cocked his head to one side, “but this Max girl is something else. She's, dare I say, fierce?”

Garrett shook his head and smiled.

“And you my dear need to learn to embrace your inner queer,” Flynn chided Garrett. “Half the time by looking at you no one would know you were a power bottom.”

“Exactly,” Garrett said, growing more intense. “That's the point!”

“Take it as a compliment,” Flynn cooed. “I mean it with love my angel.

Garrett fumed. Here was the argument Travis had hoped for. Now how was he going to use the distraction to break free? He knew as Flynn turned back to him that he didn't have that kinda luck.

“Now then,” Flynn said taking the book back from Garrett, “let's just see what you were so eager to hide from us.”

Flynn started to open the book just as a deep voice from behind him rang out, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“What's going on in here?”

Travis looked up, relieved to see his other roommate, Parker--and a bit ashamed. It seemed like Parker was always bailing him out of trouble. At six foot two, Parker was literally covered in muscle from head to toe. A natural born athlete, he'd excelled at sports from an early age while making sure not to neglect his grades. He'd been recruited out of high school as a pitcher for the Rebels after leading his team to a division championship that had won them national attention. Neither Travis nor anyone else could ever figure out why he hadn't gone to a better school, somewhere like USC or Notre Dame. They all just assumed it was for the same reason that they were all stuck together--lack of resources. Still, with Parker' record, holding his opponents to a .141 hitting average with one of the lowest ERA's in the game, snatching up a better scholarship should have been the easiest thing in the world. It just didn't make sense, but no one had the courage to ask him. Even though no one had ever seen him get angry off the field, it was generally accepted that Parker would crush anyone who crossed him. What had started off as a promising season had quickly fallen apart as his arm and his confidence seemed to slide. Parker's heavy drinking began taking a toll on his game by the second year.

The devil-may-care smile he wore around campus didn't help much. Neither did his deeply sarcastic sense of humor and refusal to play by social norms. Renting a room at Thunderdome couldn't sit well with his jock buddies worried about him skipping practice to do bong rips. Parker didn't seem to care all that much what they thought. Instead of shunning Travis and his friends for being geeks, Parker looked after Travis like a kid brother, even taking an interest in his passion of the undead.

“Nothing,” said Garrett, staring at his own feet. Garrett practically worshiped Parker and his friends. Flynn accused him of having a crush on Parker, which he did, but Garrett just denied it. It was a source of constant tension between them.

Flynn, who had been slowly opening the hardcover, quickly snapped it shut again. He looked both terrified and turned on--at the same time--by Parker's arrival. Vance stared defiantly at Parker. They'd gotten into it recently over the age of some of Vance's guests. Parker told him he wasn't comfortable with high school girls drinking and making out in his living room. There had been an uneasy tension ever since.

“We're just playing around,” he spat out, anger visible in his eyes. “You know, as full grown adults. Nothing for you to get bent out of shape over, slugger.”

Parker let out a disapproving sigh and turned to face Vance full on.

“I'm not going to have this discussion again,” he said in an even tone. “I am not gonna be responsible for two underage girls getting date raped in my apartment. I don't regret for a minute letting you know how I felt. Are we clear on that?”

Vance didn't answer. He stared at Parker without blinking even though there was no chance in the world of Vance ever hitting him, and they both knew it. Vance was a loner, an outsider with very few real friends to come to his aid. Sure he knew tons of scummy people, bikers and ex-con's and bangers and general low life's, but he himself wasn't one of them. He wasn't affiliated with any one group, which left him vulnerable in situations like these.

“Dude,” Travis said at last, trying to cut the tension in the room. “It's not like he drove the girls home and told their parents. All he did was ask you to take your party elsewhere. I don't get why you're still pissed off about it man. Didn't you say you still hooked up with one of them? What more do you want?”

“Whatever,” Vance said through gritted teeth, his lips barely moving. He stepped forward and shoved past Parker, who relaxed enough to allow Vance to swing by him. Garrett sulked out of the room after Vance, looking grateful for an excuse to leave. His eyes never left the floor and he didn't dare say a word. Only Flynn was left now. He didn't look threatened at all by Parker. To the contrary, he looked positively intrigued, as if he couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

In all fairness, Flynn had come ‘out’ in high school after being pressured to play the
Seven Minutes in Heaven
game with the preacher's daughter, and failing to utilize his time wisely with her. Scorned and angry, Bethany had immediately spread rumors about his sexuality. Flynn was delighted not to have to bring it up himself and quickly confirmed what had been intended as disingenuous slander. To his sickened astonishment, the next year had been spent bearing every nasty insult he could imagine being hurled at him, getting into fights with guys he had crushes on, and surviving a vicious rumor that he had AIDS. In the end, Flynn found it had all made him stronger. He wasn't easily intimidated or surprised now and because of this he could make a fearless ally in a fight. He could also be downright annoying under the wrong circumstances--like that exact moment.

“I still need to turn in our Zombie Con registrations,” he said, never taking his eyes off Parker as he handed him the laptop. “I want a VIP badge not a general admission wrist band.”

“Give me the forms,” Travis replied. “I’ll make sure it happens. I promise.”

Flynn handed over the sheets of paper like a school girl with the hots handing over her phone number. Parker showed no emotion as he watched. Flynn waited a brief extra second to see if Parker would give him some kind of a sign but when it didn't come he turned away, looking slightly bemused, and sauntered out of the room, mumbling as he went.

“Your loss, sugar.” The words trailed off down the now bustling hallway. Travis got up and shut the door with a bang. Parker smirked.

“Can I see what all the fuss is about?”

Travis nodded, wanting to look away but unable to as Parker opened the book and the picture fell out onto his feet.

“Ah,” Parker said, passing the book back to Travis, then bending down and picking up the well worn photo of Gemma in a bikini. “You know, there's an old saying - women are the fucking devil and whiskey is cheap holy water.”

“What does that mean?” Travis bristled.

“Nothing I guess,” Parker said, looking irritated. “You ready for the party tonight? Labor day weekend is always the biggest blow-out of the year, and you know it. We've had pledges decorating the Slaughterhouse all week. You're gonna love it.”

“I'm not going.” Travis pouted. He got up and walked over to his computer, reviving it from it's slumber. Travis began entering a bunch of passwords with his back to Parker.

“I was just going to make one final booze run,” Parker said, ignoring his reply. “I could use a hand.”

“It's not gonna happen,” Travis said, carefully erasing his browser history one more time just in case.

“Gemma’s going to be there,” Parker said casually, as an afterthought. “She's bringing Candy and the psycho slut posse with her.”