Zombies and Shit (50 page)

Scavy wakes up to the sight of Mr. T looking down on him.

“Almost lost you there,” says the cyborg.

Scavy sits up. He’s in a hotel bed, in the cleanest room he has seen since he arrived in the wasteland. He’s wearing only boxer shorts, with his torso and head wrapped in bandages.

“It’s lucky you were hit with that poisoned dart,” Laurence tells him. “The toxin slowed your heart rate and the bleeding. If it wasn’t for that you would have bled to death before the T-2000 could fix you up.”

Scavy rubs his wound. “Did we get him?”

Junko nods. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

Scavy looks out the window, the sun is getting low in the sky. “How long have I been out?”

“Too long,” Junko says. “With all the sterilization, we’re several hours behind schedule.”

“But it was worth it to get you back,” says Mr. T, handing Scavy his sniper rifle and some new clothes. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Scavy looks at the clothes they have picked out for him. Musty-smelling khaki pants with a red and white striped polo shirt.

“This is all you could find?” Scavy asks, frowning at his clothing.

“I think you’d look pretty cute in that shirt,” Mr. T says, giving him a big, frightening smile.

Scavy isn’t sure whether Mr. T is coming on to him or if he’s just so comfortable with his sexuality that he doesn’t fear calling another guy
cute
.

Rainbow paces impatiently behind them. “Are we ready? Let’s go.”

Scavy stands. He’s able to walk just fine, but light-headed and in quite a bit of pain.

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Scavy says, holding his side. “We got a plan for getting there faster and shit?”

“Yeah,” Junko says. “But it’s not going to be easy, and we’re not sure it’s even going to work.”

“It’s probably impossible,” Rainbow Cat says.

“What are you two fools talking about?” says Mr. T, waving their comments away. “With the T-2000 on the job, ain’t nothin’ impossible.”

They explain the plan to Scavy. While the punk was out, Junko had come across a group of smart-cars on the freeway. If they can get to those then it is possible that they can drive to the evacuation zone. But there is a problem. The smart-cars have become infected with the zombie virus.

Smart-cars were invented a few years before Z-Day. They were state of the art solar-powered vehicles with organic implants. The vehicles were designed so that they could drive themselves. Because they were fitted with human brains, grown in a lab, the smart-cars were basically living beings. They could think, feel, communicate, and even love. Unfortunately, they could also become infected by the zombie virus.

When Z-Day struck, even the smart-cars were not safe from the hordes of zombies. They were cornered, ripped open, bitten, infected, and joined the ranks of the living dead. And because they were created to last forever, without requiring fuel or much repair, many of the smart-cars are still around, patrolling the zombie wasteland.

Junko had seen undead smart-cars on Zombie Survival in the past, but contestants had never tried to ride them before. They were always run over by them if they got too close, then the vehicle would futilely try to eat their victim’s brains. Because they do not have mouths—normally fed a protein fluid inserted through a slot on the dashboard—eating brains was not possible.

“The problem is,” Junko says. “They will attack us on sight. Even if we manage to get inside one of them, we have no idea how we’ll control it.”

Many smart-cars weren’t even fitted with steering wheels. Their insides look similar to the backs of limousines. The brains of the smart-cars were programmed to be experts at driving. It was said that using a smart-car was the safest way to travel. That is, until they turned into mindless brain-hungry zombie cars.

Junko, Scavy, Rainbow, and the T-2000 walk down the freeway through the city, keeping a look out for the smart-cars. The undead vehicles are no longer in the same spot that Junko had last seen them in. They’ll have to seek them out.

“They could be long gone by now,” Rainbow Cat says.

“We’ll find them,” Junko says.

The four contestants cross a freeway overpass, scanning the interstate below. The road stretches for miles, overgrown with weeds so thick it’s like a brown forest dotted by hundreds of wrecked rusted-out vehicles.

A section on Mr. T’s robot body opens and a pair of small binoculars come out. They raise themselves up to Mr. T’s eyes, then he scans the distance.

“The T-2000 don’t see nothin’ out there,” says Mr. T.

The other four of them stare up at him, surprised to see the binoculars attached to the inside of his chest.

“What else can you do?” Junko asks.

The binoculars fold themselves back into his body.

“Well,” Mr. T says, “the T-2000 wasn’t designed to look pretty. The doctor who built this body designed it for missions near the outskirts of the Red Zone, and so it’s been equipped accordingly.”

“Got any weapons hiding in there?” Scavy asks.

“All the T-2000 needs is Brick and Mortar.” Mr. T holds up his two fists. “Those are the names of Mr. T’s fists.”

“Why do you call them Brick and Mortar?” Rainbow asks.

“Because they’re tough like brick and mortar,” Mr. T says.

“But your fists are made out of steel,” Rainbow says. “Isn’t steel stronger than brick?”

Mr. T pauses. He scratches his chin.

“Hey,” Mr. T says. “Mr. T never thought of that before. You’ve got a point.” He thinks about it a bit more. “But Mr. T’s fists can punch through brick and mortar, so maybe the names make sense after all.”

“If you say so,” Rainbow says.

He doesn’t like her snarky tone.

“Mr. T
does
say so.”

Ahead, the party of four come across a horde of zombies crowded in a circle, gathered around something.

“What’s that?” Rainbow asks.

“Not sure,” Junko says.

Mr. T uses his binoculars.

“It’s strange,” Mr. T says. “The center of the mob is wide open, as if something is holding them back.”

Getting to higher ground, they look more carefully. In the middle of the mob, there is a girl lying on the street. The zombies are after her, but something is keeping them from getting to her. It’s as if there is a twenty-foot barrier around the girl, but nothing looks to be there. There’s no railing or glass stopping them. It’s as if an invisible wall protects the girl.

“She’s one of the contestants, isn’t she?” Rainbow asks.

“She
was
,” Mr. T says. “Look.”

His binoculars shift over to Rainbow and she looks through to see blood on the pavement by the girl’s face. She’s dead.

“I don’t remember her,” Junko says. “What was her name?”

“Wendy,” says Mr. T. “I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. Back at the hotel, she was a sorry sight.”

When Wendy awoke back at the hotel, she was so frightened she couldn’t speak to anybody. Perhaps she could have joined somebody’s team if she had spoken up, but she couldn’t get the words out. When she saw Oro escaping out of the side door, she followed after him, but he wouldn’t let her follow for very long. She was on her own.

The weapon they had given her wasn’t exactly a weapon. It was a lawn gnome. She assumed it had to have been a mistake, then she assumed it had to have been a cruel joke. She wondered what she was supposed to do with it. Smash zombies over the head with it? Poke them with the pointy red gnome hat? The weapon assigned to each contestant was supposed to match that person’s fighting capabilities. She didn’t understand how they could think she would be capable of fighting off hordes of zombies with a ceramic gnome.

“I don’t need a weapon to fight them,” she said to herself. “My greatest weapon is my faith in Jesus.”

Religion was rare on the island of Neo New York, especially in Copper. But Wendy was a devoted Christian. Her mother and her mother’s mother were all dedicated to the faith. They had passed down their only remaining copy of the bible to her. It was a book that guided her through her life.

“You have to go to school,” her mother told her. “I don’t care what those bullies did to you.”

Young Wendy looked up at her mother. Her eye swollen and black. An agonizing pain in her privates.

“But they’ll hurt me again…” Wendy cried.

Her mother handed her the precious family bible.

“Have faith in Jesus,” she said. “He will protect you from the heathens.”

“But he didn’t protect me yesterday…”

“That’s because you didn’t have strong enough faith!”

Wendy looked down at her scabby knuckles.

“Okay?” her mother said.

“Okay,” Wendy said.

Wendy’s school wasn’t really a school. There were only five students who were taught by a lady from the back of the porch outside of her shack. Three of the students were her children. She taught the other two students for a small monthly fee from their mothers.

Unfortunately, the school wasn’t on the best side of town. Wendy was often attacked on her way to and from school, by teenaged gang members or angry old men, who wanted inside of her. She could have tried to sneak through the back streets to get away from them, but her mother told her all she needed was faith and nothing could harm her. But every time, no matter how much she believed Jesus would deliver her from harm, she was raped by different attackers. Sometimes she was even assaulted more than once in a day. When she would arrive home, her mother would have no pity for her.

“It’s because you lack faith,” her mother would say, and if Wendy ever argued back she would be beaten.

She grew up and got a job in a soup kitchen, but her problem never changed. She was still attacked on the street. Her frail body and cowering posture made her a perfect victim. Predators seemed to be drawn to her. Every day, she believed with all her heart that Jesus would protect her. Some days she would get away with no harm done to her, other days she would come home with a ripped dress and a black eye. The last man who attacked her had a white suit and a white goatee. The next day, she awoke as a contestant on
Zombie Survival
.

In the zombie wasteland, Wendy knew that she had to believe in Jesus more than she ever had in the past. She had to have faith so no harm would come to her.