Zombocalypse Now (26 page)
“There’s two more over there!” one of them yells. “Quick, shoot ’em before they infect the dogs!”
Nope, regular security guards. You get shot trying to break into the UPS center.
THE END
237
Forget the gated community, you think. The more you consider it, the more you realize that throwing your lot in with a bunch of pampered suburbanites probably isn’t the surest path to survival. You fight your way to the city zoo, and your replica
Star Trek
whatever-it-is handles like a dream. Once there, however, you’re disheartened to find that scattered zombies already roam the premises. Well, it’s nothing you and your whirling blade of doom can’t handle. You figure you’ll scout the premises, find a safe spot to use as home base and then formulate a plan to clean up the zoo environs and make it your permanent home.
Before you get far, though, you hear a high-pitched scream that comes from way on the other side of the zoo. Perhaps you should head over there to see if you can help. Of course, by the time you find whoever it is, the chances that they’ll still be human are slim. And you don’t know how bad things are out there—if you don’t come up with some kind of safety to retreat to, you could find yourself trapped and overwhelmed at the zombie zoo.
If you rush to the aid of whoever is screaming their fool head off,
turn to page 272.
If you stick to the plan and find safe haven before waltzing off to clean up the zombie infestation,
turn to page 106.
238
You slam on the brakes, screaming at Ernie to get out of the car and run for his life. Ernie, now spotting the dog on the back seat, doesn’t need any more encouragement and is free of the vehicle before you are.
“Lock the door, lock the door!” Ernie yells.
You’ve already broken into a run. “I don’t think it can work the door handles, Ernie,” you pant between gulps of air. You don’t stop running until you’re both ready to collapse from exhaustion. You’re now several hours from town on foot but still fairly confident that you made the right decision. Fleeing in blind terror just
felt
right, even if you did pass up an opportunity to learn more about the zombie plague.
“You know, I’m less and less convinced that the dog has anything to do with the zombies,” Ernie says as you walk. “It doesn’t behave like they do. And you’d think that if there was a zombie dog out here for the past four years, the full-scale outbreak would have started before yesterday.”
You continue marching, and as night falls you’re almost back to Ernie’s neighborhood. Before you get to safety, though, a familiar growl comes from behind you. You stop in your tracks and turn to see the hell spaniel, bits of broken windshield now matted into its fur, glaring at you like it’s ready to go for the throat. It dawns on you that you’re weaponless, having left your giant wrench in the car before fleeing the scene. To make things worse, you spot a pair of zombies approaching from up the street.
You resume walking, much more briskly now, even though your legs are like putty from the day’s travel. Princess paces you. Now you spot several more zombies plodding toward you as well—if you don’t find shelter soon, you’re in danger of being surrounded.
Ernie panics, breaking into a run. Before you can join him, though, Princess flies by you at alarming speed. “Ernie!’ you yell. “Watch out!” The dog, however, continues past him and leaps up on an approaching zombie, knocking it to the ground. In a few grisly moments the thing’s neck has been chewed straight through. The dog then lifts its leg to pee on the severed zombie head, proving once and for all that Princess is definitely not a girl dog. Then it throws itself at the next zombie in line.
Soon all the undead are re-dead, although Princess is looking a little worse for wear. His already horrifying coat is now also covered in zombie gore, and by the way he limps toward you, one of his legs may be broken. Nevertheless, the cocker spaniel of the Baskervilles has saved your lives.
“You’re not such a bad little guy, are you,” you murmur, carefully reaching out your hand, and then pulling it back with a start as the dog tries to bite you. Hmm. Maybe it’s just jealous of the evil competition.
No way! Princess is like a terrifying, zombie-devouring Lassie! If you take the dog with you in hopes that he can somehow be domesticated,
turn to page 124.
Then again, all the rescuing in the world can’t erase the pure waves of evil emanating from that thing. If you decide that attacking now, while it’s weak, might be your only chance to get rid of the demon dog,
turn to page 12.
240
Fortunately, you took a big, heavy monkey wrench along when you left Ernie’s house. “Back away slowly,” you say to Madison and Ernie. “But don’t go far! Who knows what else is out there.”
Screaming, Madison scampers down the hill. Well, you did your best. She knows the way home, and hopefully she’ll make it there safely. The zombies lunge at you, but you leap away—whatever these two have been through, they’re not in top undead shape. Your wrench connects with the first zombie’s head and knocks it almost completely off. The second one is all chewed up on its left side and thus suffers from balance problems. It’s every bit as easy to dispatch.
The first zombie is still moaning a bit, so you take a step toward it to finish the job. “Hold on—I just had an interesting idea,” Ernie says. “This pet cemetery seems unrelated to the whole zombie situation. What would happen if we buried this thing in the dog’s grave? Would it come back alive? Regenerate? Maybe it would turn human again! Maybe nothing would happen, but I think we need to find out.”
You think about the zombie, then look at Princess the Demon Hound from hell, and shudder. Something tells you this is a bad idea. If there’s a chance it could reverse zombification, though, could it be worth a shot?
Maybe Ernie’s right. If you try burying the zombie in Princess’s grave,
turn to page 38
. What’s the worst that could happen?
No, no, a thousand times no. No good can possibly come of this. For the love of God, don’t do it! If you don’t do it,
turn to page 212.
241
“Okay, Billy, you’re my navigator,” you say. “Prudence, you take the gun.” She immediately sticks her upper body out the window and starts firing. The girl might not have any skill, but she’s certainly not hurting for enthusiasm.
“Hey, you’re a stuffed bunny, right?” Billy says as you start the car. You swerve to avoid a zombie in front of you, since Prudence misses it by a city block. “So you know about love and stuff. How do I make a girl fall in love with me?”
Is this why he wanted to ride up front? Love advice? You’re not sure what makes Billy think that stuffed bunnies know about anything. “Watch the road,” you say.
“Uh, turn up there at the donut place,” he mumbles. “I mean, I know that she loves me. But how do I get her to know that she knows?” You try to block him out and concentrate on your driving.
“She acts like she doesn’t know how I really feel about her,” he continues. “Even though I tell her all the time.”
A zombie torso smashes into your windshield, largely obscuring your view. Damn! “Which way at the light, Billy?” you ask frantically.
“Sometimes it’s like she doesn’t even listen to me at all.”
“BILLY, WHICH WAY AT THE LIGHT?”
“Left!” he yells, and you yank the wheel in that direction. Tires screeching, you run the car right into an overturned cement truck. Your head hits the windshield and everything goes black.
You never find out if Billy and Prudence survived the crash, because by the time you wake up, you’re already dead.
THE END
242
“The first thing we do is march into town and take back the city,” you say with all the authority you can muster.
“Uh, sir?” Velasquez asks, gesturing at a handful of zombies filtering out of the command center.
Right. Those guys. “The
first
thing we do is burn down the command center. The
second
thing we do is to march into town and take back the city!”
After making sure all of the undead former officers are no longer roaming (they take a considerable time to burn, but that’s okay—burning things is fun!), you organize a convoy and take your soldiers to war. The city is completely overrun, and the horrors on the streets make this morning’s scene at the army base look positively serene by comparison. As tough as it is to put down the zombie hordes, one of your biggest problems turns out to be crowd control. You can’t have frothing citizens running all over the place like headless chickens. You need to get these people somewhere safe! But where?
“It might not be an ideal solution, but we could cart them off to the military prison,” Velasquez says. “You know, until things blow over.”
Good enough! Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you can sort out the moral implications after you rid the city of undead. If you round up the survivors and bring them in,
turn to page 154.
Wait, what? Did you just declare martial law? If you think Velasquez’ plan goes just a little too far,
turn to page 82.
243
You hope Madison finds her way to safety, but the truth is, you never liked that girl much, anyway, and you’re not about to leave Ernie to his fate. “No chance, buddy,” you say. “If you die here today, so do I.”
Big talk, and you wish you had a little more to back them up with. You brought a big, heavy monkey wrench with you from Ernie’s house for just such an occasion as this, and as the first zombie rears his ugly head, you let him have it right in the kisser. The downhill path is not an ideal spot to fight off the undead, but you lash out wildly, and manage to beat the thing down. Take that! Unfortunately, the second zombie is following closely behind the first.
Its clammy hand grips your shoulder, but suddenly Ernie makes a diving tackle, landing on top of it in a heap. You’re not sure how he even managed to get himself off the ground with that busted foot, but he saved your life, and you return the favor by smashing the zombie’s skull in and pulling your friend away from its battered remains.
The two of you lie on the ground for a moment, panting. “We did it!” Ernie exclaims. “I knew you wouldn’t abandon me!” Your moment of victory quickly turns to dread, however, as you hear a low growl coming from the bushes nearby.
“Princess?” Sure enough, the dog emerges, and it looks pissed. You’re not sure if it’s upset that you destroyed its fellow denizens of evil, or if all the commotion has simply riled it up. But it dives right at you, and in your weakened state you don’t stand a chance.
THE END
244
Zombie outbreaks are scary enough in broad daylight, so you’d rather avoid the risk of getting caught in one after nightfall. The first building you check looks abandoned. “Condemned” might even be a better description, you think as the stairwell creaks beneath your weight, threatening to collapse beneath you.
Collapsed stairs? That might be a brilliant idea. You don’t trust the rickety front doors to keep out the undead, so you herd the group to the second floor and start tumbling various pieces of furniture down the stairwell in an attempt to create a zombie-proof barricade. Your plan works like a dream; a particularly solid entertainment center takes out several of the wooden stairs, and by the time you’ve emptied the floor of cabinetry there’s little chance of anything that shambles surprising you during the night.
“Uh, so how do we get back down tomorrow morning?” Isabelle asks.
You hadn’t thought of that. “Don’t worry,” you say. “I’ve thought of that. Just focus on mixing up that zombie cure you were talking about.” Can’t hurt to try, you think. You settle in for the night, and are pleased to discover that the power in the building is still on, and the lights are working. The plumbing, alas, isn’t.
Two dozen people and no working toilets. This is going to get ugly.
You eventually settle down in one of the apartments to rest after directing people to use the bathrooms as far upstairs as possible to avoid stinking up the floor, and repeatedly assuring one elderly lady (who, if you’re not mistaken, is wearing dentures, anyway) that you’ll find her somewhere to brush her “teeth” tomorrow. Although the restless night seems to drag on forever, you finally awake to sunlight pouring in through the open window shade. You bolt upright, your nostrils assaulted by the overwhelming stench of death.
A look into the hallway reveals no zombie activity, and you start to wonder if the smell is from people ignoring the no-pooping-on-this-floor rule. However, further investigation reveals the true culprit: Isabelle’s cooking.
“It’s ready!” she says with an ear-to-ear grin. “I don’t know how much it will help the folks who are already sick”—even Isabelle, it seems, has begun to doubt the powers of organic cooking to repair rotted flesh and severed limbs—“but it might prevent any of us from catching it. It has echinacea!”
You take another whiff and immediately regret your decision. There’s no way something that smells that bad can be good for you. Still, if there’s any chance at all that it will keep you unzombified, it might be worth a shot.
If you plug your nose and try to get down some of what Isabelle charitably calls “stew,”
turn to page 196.