Zombified (Episode 1): Wooneyville (10 page)

"If only half of them are eating people, that's a quarter-million of these things."  Gigi waved outside, indicating the ambling undead moving up and down the driveway. 

They sat there, listening to the fiends groan and shuffle. 

From the garage, a static-laced squawk rang out.

"The radio!"  Joey ran through the sliding door and out into the garage. 

"Savage beast, come in.  This is smart monkey--over."

"Matty!"  Joey yelled into the mic, turning dials to fine-tune the frequency.  "Matty, you there, bro?"

"So much for callsigns, huh?" Matty's voice came through the speakers.

Dana and Gigi filtered into the garage, flanking Joey at the workbench.

"Fuck callsigns, dude!  Where the hell are you?"

"I'm heading in your direction, Joe.  Barring anymore setbacks, I should be there tomorrow."

Joey pumped his fist in the air.  "That's great fuckin' news, man!  What the hell happened to you?  Where have you been?"

There was a silence.  Joey checked the volume.  "Matty?"

No answer came. 

"Smart monkey?"

A crackle and then: "I'm here.  I had to turn it down--a couple of munchers were getting curious.  I'll fill you in when I get there.  Everyone okay?"

"Hank, Gigi, and Dana are alive and well.  Nobody else showed up."

"What?  It's not like this was a total surprise."

Joey heard a groaning call, almost a crying sound, echo over the radio.

"That's my cue, Joe.  I'll see you guys soon." 

"Good hunting, Matty.  Watch your ass!"  Joey listened but no reply came.

"He'll get here, baby."  Dana wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, nuzzling Joey's neck.  "He's too smart to get eaten by the brainless."

"I know." Joey nodded. 

Gigi went back to the kitchen.

"Where the fuck has he been the last two weeks?  What the hell has he been doing?"  Joey worried aloud.

Dana shrugged.  "Who knows?  Maybe he knows something about what happened.  Doesn't he go to school in Yankee Heights?"

"Yeah… he used to."

APPENDIX A

Dana at the Medical Center

"Get away from me!"  Dana screamed, hurling a fire extinguisher at Mr. Peterson--or what used to be Mr. Peterson. 

She had covered his dead body two hours ago. 

Eyes rolled back, the growling tax assistant lunged at Dana.  She ducked under his arms and sprinted down the hall, past the nursing station, and skidded to a stop before turning into the lab.

She slammed the door shut and twisted the lock.

"What was that about?"  Kelly touched Dana's shoulder. 

"Mr. Peterson!"  Dana gripped Kelly's shoulders.  "He just tried to attack me!"

"Honey," Kelly used a soothing voice, "he died."

Dana rolled her eyes and gave Kelly a shake.  "Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking loon, Kelly!  You know me better than that." 

Dana pulled Kelly to the door and pointed down the hall. 

Mr. Peterson burst from a patient room, part of a hand in his hand--the wrist and forearm was being gnawed on.

"Oh… my… God…"  Kelly backed away from the door, covering her mouth.

"See what I'm saying, Kel?  Isn't that some crazy shit?" 

Kelly stumbled and flopped down in a plastic chair.  Dana went over and pulled her up.  "We can't stay in here.  I mean, what if there are more of them?"

"More of what?" Kelly's voice pitched up, her eyes bulging.

"Zombies."  Dana said the word with a slightly hysterical note in her voice.  "Joey talks about zombies and end-of-the-world stuff all the time.  Shit, I never thought it would be useful."

"Dana, that's crazy."

Mr. Peterson's gray face, streaked with blood and tissue, smacked into the lab door.  He tried biting the glass, raking his hands up and down.

"No, that's crazy."  Dana pointed at the former Mr. Peterson.

Something attracted the creature's attention: it turned around and ran down the hall.  An orderly tried to get away, dodging into a patient's room. 

"Let's go," Dana said.  She pulled Kelly by the sleeve. 

Dana turned the lock and slipped out of the lab.  Kelly stayed close by, keeping one hand on Dana's back.

"We need to get the hell out of here."

"And go where?"  Kelly squeaked.  "What's going on, Dana?"

"I told you already: zombies."

Kelly whimpered but kept walking.  Dana wanted to tell her best friend that she was scared shitless, too.  She wanted to tell her that she wet her pants a little when Mr. Peterson tried to eat her.

But she didn't say anything. 

I have to get out of here
.  Dana thought. 
I have to get to Joey, and then I can cry and scream and shit myself.  Not until then.

They crept down the hallway to the nursing station.  Dana reached over the desk and picked up the phone.  She dialed 9-1-1 and got an "all circuits busy" message. 

"Shit."  She hung up the phone and looked around the desk for anything useful. 

The lab report from Mr. Peterson's bloodwork was next to the keyboard.  Dana reached down to grab it.

A police officer came hurtling down the hallway.  The side of his neck was torn off, but the blood had congealed in black globby chunks.

Kelly screamed. 

Dana froze; her mouth went instantly dry.

The zombified cop lunged at Dana; she ducked behind the desk.  Its arms swatted at the desk, knocking over the monitor and scattering paperwork into the air.

Dana backed away as the cop monster climbed over the desk, clawing and growling at her. 

Kelly screamed and backed up a few steps.

Dana slapped one of the reaching hands away and managed to grab the pistol still strapped to the cop's hip.  She pulled it out, clicked the safety off (just like Joey taught her), and held it in both hands.

She squinted, lining up the policeman's head--

BANG!

He stopped reaching for her and flopped on the desk, a lifeless shell oozing dark red gummy blood on the floor.

Dana breathed deep, steadying her nerves; the gun was rattling and shaking in her hands.  She turned to Kelly, who was ten paces away standing outside a patient's room with her hands pressed to her ears.

"Kelly, get over here right now!" 

Kelly looked to the employee entrance at the end of the hall.  "Let's go, Dana!"

"Kelly, get over here!  You're standing outside the room that--"

GRRRRAAAAR!

Mr. Peterson grabbed a fistful of Kelly's hair and hauled her inside the room.  Her screams echoed and filled the corridors of the medical center.

Dana felt tears flood down her cheeks as she darted in the room, gun raised, and saw Kelly kicking and screaming as Mr. Peterson bit into her face, ripping a slab of cheek off.  He slurped it down, chewing and gurgling.

BANG!

Dana blew his head off.  The body fell forward. 

Kelly screeched and shoved it off her.  Blood sprayed from her cheek and flowed freely down her neck and into her cleavage. 

"Dana, my face!  Oh God, my face!"  She screamed and cried, alternating between the two, until the pain and blood loss was too much.  Kelly turned pale and her lips became blue-black.

Dana had shut and barred the door.  She helped Kelly onto a bed and bandaged the missing cheek. 

Kelly passed out and Dana couldn't get her to wake up.

The door lurched.  Milky eyes and gore-spotted teeth pressed against the small window. 

Dana choked on her tears, gasping and crying. 

"What the fuck do I do?"  She yelled out loud.  Her lungs were on fire. 

Calm down, girl
, she told herself. 
Your inhaler is at the desk, so you have to calm down
.

After a few minutes, she was breathing normally.  There were two creatures at the door--one of them looked like Dr. Hobbes. 

Dana walked to the window and wrenched it open.  It didn't go far enough to allow her to escape.  She picked up a chair and swung it overhead.

The window cracked. 

She swung again and again until the window gave way and broke into pieces.  Dana used the chair to clear out the glass.

She wasn't too high from the ground and the parking lot was within sight.  Her snot-green two-door sat in the corner spot under a light--which was, of course, not working at this time.

Dana stepped up on the windowsill, carefully angling her body out the window.  She shimmied down, hanging from the exterior ledge.  It was about seven or eight feet to the grass embankment below.

"Come on, girl, it's not that far!"  She looked down.  "I'm such a wuss."

UHHHH
…

She looked up and saw Kelly stagger to the window, eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.  Kelly groaned and grabbed Dana's hand through the window.

Dana yanked and let go, falling to the grass. 

She got up without a scratch.  Kelly climbed through the window and fell face-first to the ground with a sickening thud.

Dana turned and ran to the parking lot. 

Kelly got up, her leg bent backwards, and hobbled after her former friend.

Dana fumbled with the keys, distracted by Kelly's approach, and finally managed to unlock the door.  She got in and started the booger car.

Kelly climbed on the hood as Dana backed up. 

She spun the wheel and floored it; Kelly spun off the hood and hit the pavement.  Dana didn't look back.  She was crying, but she was alive.

The cop's gun sat in the passenger seat.

She pulled out of the parking lot and saw the mass of zombies pressing into the medical center, attacking fleeing patients and banging on the cars of people pulling up in search of medical attention.

Dana took a different street, watching the undead in her rear-view mirror. 

The impact made her jump and slam the brakes. 

A zombie tumbled off the right side, getting tangled in the front wheel.  Part of the creature broke off--it looked like an arm--and bounced off the passenger door.

Dana backed up, trying to get the zombie out from under her car.  She pulled forward, hearing a thump-thump and saw a still-moving carcass on the road behind her. 

She set her jaw.

"Fuck you!"

And she put the booger in reverse, splattering the zombie's brain on her rear window.

The washer fluid didn't make a dent on the mess.

APPENDIX B

Bullseye Survivors

Fran dragged Rick inside, slamming the door.  He deposited the crybaby against the counter and proceeded to search for ammo and magazines.

"He's dead, jackass!"  Fran barked at Rick.  "Make yourself useful and barricade the door." 

Rick didn't move.  Fran snorted.  He hitched his drawers up, pulling them over the bottom roll of his gut. 

From a display case, Fran grabbed a bunch of fixed-blade knives.  He walked to the door and drove the knives into the frame along the top, side, and bottom.

"That should give us a little while to arm up."  Fran returned to the counter and started loading 5.56 rounds into the AR15.

"Rick, if you don't have your shit together when I'm done, then I'm leavin' your ass.  Got it?"  Fran kicked Rick in the leg.

"Johnny's fucking dead, man!"  Rick looked towards the door. 

"Do you wanna be dead, too?"

Rick shook his head.

"Then get your sorry ass up and start loading some guns!"  He yanked Rick by the collar, choking him.  Rick scurried up, sputtering and choking.

Fran handed him a pistol and a shotgun.  Rick started loading rounds into the weapons.

Outside the door, they heard chewing and grunting.

"Looks like the Johnny buffet is in town," Fran said.  He shouldered the AR15 and walked to the door, leaning to the side to peer out the windows.  "Shit.  There's two of 'em feasting on Johnny's balls, and there's more coming."

Fran grabbed boxes of bullets, filling his pockets. 

"Where are we gonna go?"  Rick asked.

"First of all, we need to get out here.  I say we hit the basement, blast any of these things down there, and go out that way."

"What if there's no way out the basement?  Why don't we go upstairs and try the fire escape?"

"Not a bad idea, Ricky-dick."  Fran clapped him on the back.

The basement door thumped and the eating noises outside stopped.

"Fuck."  Fran said it as the front door bulged inward, multiple arms beating on it.

They made for the narrow stairwell behind the cash register.  Fran squeezed his way in, sideways, and got to the top--the blue-painted door was locked.

Bullseye's main entrance cracked and shattered; zombie groans and moans filled the building.

"Oh man, whadda we do?  Whadda we do!"  Rick raised the pistol, his hands trembling violently.

"I'm gettin' out of here," Fran said.  He kicked Rick in the back, sending him sprawling down the stairs. 

Rick screamed as the zombies jumped on him, tearing the flesh from his bones. 

Fran pumped two rounds into the door and booted it open. 

The small apartment was well furnished.  Fran jogged to the window, searching for the fire escape.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" 

He couldn't find the escape.

Fran pushed open a window and stuck his head out.  It was fifteen or twenty feet down to the concrete sidewalk.  Rusted holes indicated where the fire escape used to be.

The apartment door swung open with a bang.  Fran spun around.  Zombies came into the apartment with pieces of Rick hanging from their lips.

Fran tightened his grip on the gun. 

"You want some of the fat guy, huh?" 

He started firing, dropping the creatures one by one; some of them tumbled back down the stairs.  He emptied the clip and pulled a fresh one from his pocket.

Gunshots attracted zombies. 

The park, not all that far away, was full of zombies.

Fran stood at the top of the stairs, blasting zombies until he ran out of bullets.