Zombies & Other Unpleasant Things

by William Bebb

  Peters stared for a moment before turning and heading for the decontamination chamber. He paused before shutting the door, and said, “If that's not a zombie, I'm a taco eating chipmunk named Floyd.”

  The medic had no response to that as he backed away from the undead man struggling against the straps.

  *****

  The tired deputy listened to the sounds of the early evening desert, but mostly all he could hear was the quiet splashing of urine as he relieved himself next to a large boulder. The rock felt good because it was still radiating heat from the day-long exposure to the sun. He looked back at the horse tethered loosely to the fender of a rusted out long ago abandoned Ford pickup truck and decided to walk the beast for awhile. Not out of concern he'd ridden it for too long, but because horseback riding did not agree with his sore rump.

  Sheriff Guiteriz was not at all satisfied with the National Guard and CDC officials when they promised that all the infected people in the trailer park had been accounted for. And while they had the authority to order out local and state law enforcement and enforce a quarantine zone, they couldn't tell the sheriff not to patrol the perimeter of the valley where madness, murder, and the undead had apparently ruled for the past several days.

  The man untied the reins from the truck's fender and performed a radio check. “Albuquerque HQ, this is Deputy Autry. Radio check. Can you read me?”

  The walkie-talkie released a brief burst of static for a moment followed by one of the dispatchers saying, “We read you fine, Bo. Anything to report?”

  I'm tired. My butt hurts and I wish I hadn't volunteered for this, he felt tempted to say, but only said, “Negative. Continuing toward...” He paused and looked at the piece of paper with a map of the area before continuing, “Sectors 14 and 15. Have there been any reports of 'trailer trash' by any other units?” He asked while thinking the code word for the infected was not exactly politically correct.

  “Negative. Keep safe. Over and out,” the dispatcher's voice responded.

  Bo replaced the microphone and wondered if it was the same cute girl he'd seen that morning at head quarters. She's too young for me. Besides you saw how that kid's mom was looking at you earlier,. he thought to himself and sighed. What was her name again? Cheryl? Yeah, she was alright. It would be a funny story to tell the kids someday if things worked out.

  “How did we meet? Well, once upon a time there was this remote trailer park full of crazy infected people running around trying to kill and eat everyone...”

  A coyote howling at the moon slowly rising from the horizon snapped him out of his thoughts. He patted the horse on the neck and led it through a maze of rocks and sand toward the hills.

  While walking, he thought about the unaccounted people who had been in the trailer park. The exact number of illegal immigrants who had lived down there was unknown, but seventy bodies had been tossed on the bonfire that had been built in the old laundry building. In addition to them, there were also the three unaccounted for members of the ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, team: Agents Puckett, Hadden, and Dudley.

  Bo climbed up on top of a hill and adjusted his night vision goggles. The wide expanse of sand stretching back the way he'd come from was cast in an odd grainy greenish gray hue. A few small stationary and moving objects were obviously some kinds of animals. He was fairly certain the fast moving blob of glowing light was one of the desert jack rabbits.

  Bo then slowly turned and looked around in every other direction. The hills and valleys blocked most of those views and he wondered if a undead person would even show up on the night vision goggles anyway. The thermographic device made warm or hot objects glow a different color. But if the missing ICE agents or illegals aren't alive what was the point in using the dumb thing, he wondered before climbing back down to the horse.

  “John Wayne I ain't,” he said swinging up into the saddle. His sore butt agreed, he was most certainly not the Duke.

  They headed for the narrow path that winded into the canyons and Bo made certain the rifle was still snugly inside it's scabbard hanging from the saddle then checked that his pistol was in its holster. Lastly, he double checked the pump shotgun hanging from a strap over his shoulder.

  When he heard soft fast moving sounds coming from ahead and to the right he shined the flashlight in that direction. A large jackrabbit stopped running, stood up on its hind legs and became as still as the stones scattered around it. Its eyes reflected part of the flashlights beam until Bo shut it off and rode on. Not very much later the distant sounds of wolves howling caught his attention and he realized he’d been softly humming an old song by a rock group called America. He nodded and hummed a little louder as part of the lyrics reached up from the back of his mind. There was something about a guy riding on a horse with no name in the desert that made him smile more as he rode on.

  Time passed and his thoughts eventually turned back to his partner who had become infected earlier. Poor Willie, yeah, he was a lazy fat incompetent excuse for a human being, let alone a deputy, but he didn't deserve to die that way. Let alone come back as a fucking zombie that I had to kill. No one deserves that.

  The sound of the horse's shoes echoed off the canyon walls and Bo shined his flashlight warily in every direction as they continued on.

  *****

  The fumes coming from the ruptured radiator drifted through the upside down SUV. Both children were coughing and terrified but otherwise uninjured. The vehicle’s interior was almost pitch black except for some light from the one headlight that hadn't been smashed. A small amount of red flashing light coming from the dashboard showed the silhouette of their father who was limply hanging upside down. He was held securely in place by the seat belt straps.

  The older child, Megan, switched on the DVD player. The small screen secured to the driver's seat flashed for a moment then a cartoon featuring a yellow sponge that could talk and typically got in all manner of trouble began playing. Megan turned down the volume so it wasn't blaring and by the light coming from the screen tried to unsnap her seat belt. Her little brother was still crying and whining. It was a very irritating sound. She was torn between wanting to comfort him and at the same time wanting to say “Shut up.”

  The capering sponge on the small DVD screen made neither option necessary as Edwin quieted down and watched as it chased a pink starfish. He was still sniffling but seemed slightly mollified.

  Megan tried to unlatch her seat belt but it seemed to be jammed. She felt dizzy from hanging upside down in her booster seat for so long. There were barking and yipping noises coming from somewhere outside the car and she hoped that it meant someone was walking their dog. She peered through the broken side window, but it was too dark to see much beyond.

  There was a moaning sound coming from the rear storage compartment. Both children turned and saw their mother's body sprawled out amongst the suitcases.

  “Momma, are you okay?” Edwin asked in scared trembling voice.

  Megan tried using one hand to push against the upside down floor while pressing the seat belt lock. It clicked and she suddenly found herself falling to the SUV's ceiling which was now serving as the floor. She hadn't prepared herself for the fall and hit face first. A crackling sound was accompanied with a flash of intense pain as her nose was shattered.

  She cried out and managed to get in a crawling position as droplets of blood started spilling out. The crimson stains dribbled out over all the cups, paper, and assorted trash that had fallen to the ceiling when the SUV landed on its roof.

  Edwin laughed at his big sister until he saw her nose was bent at an odd angle and leaking blood. He then asked, “Meggy, are you okay?”

  Wiping her crying eyes, she spoke up with a nasal stuffiness. “No, you twit, I'm not okay. I think my nose is broken.”

  “What happened? Is daddy okay? Is momma alright?” Edwin asked the questions in a rapid fire way that only seemed to make Megan's nose hurt even more.

  “Just keep quiet. I think we
had a car wreck. I'm gonna see if mom's okay,” Megan said as she shoved a piece of a napkin gingerly up into her bleeding nostrils. She felt blood leaking down the back of her throat and was afraid she'd throw up if she thought about it too much. It was a lot darker in the rear of the SUV and she had to find her way more by touch than sight.

  Booger head. All I did was ask if mom and dad are okay and she calls me a twit. Gosh, it feels weird being upside down for so long; sort of like hanging from the jungle gym at school. Oooh, doggies! Edwin thought and tapped at the cracked glass of his window to get the wolves attention. He was tempted to mention the dogs to his big sister, but just then he was mad at her for calling him a twit.

  The leader of the pack smelled blood and heard a tapping sound. It looked for the source and saw a delicious looking little boy inside the vehicle. Approaching cautiously, it inhaled deeply and pawed at the window. The wolf was almost four feet tall and immensely strong. Its claws made screeching noises and left scratches of the glass.

  The other members of the pack circled the vehicle and yipped in excitement as they too detected the intoxicating fresh scent of blood.

  Megan heard the wolf scratching at the window, but assumed the sound was her twit of a brother that was causing it. She found her mother's face and it felt wet and strange in the darkness. “Mom, can you hear me?”

  Janet was drifting on an inflatable pool float and feeling woozy, as if she'd had too many Tom Collins drinks. She heard her daughter calling to her from the edge of the pool and just wanted her to go away. Perhaps go and pester her father for awhile.

  It wasn't until Megan touched a long deep cut on her face that her mother realized she'd been dreaming. The intense and jarring pain forced a scream out of her as she awoke.

  Her scream caused both children to follow suit and the wolves backed several feet away briefly before once more continuing their explorations of the SUV.

  The right side of her face had been sliced open so deeply that Janet could actually feel the torn open gash on the inside of her mouth with her tongue. She tried to roll over and discovered her right arm seemed to be broken between the elbow and wrist. This discovery elicited another scream even louder than the first as waves of intense pain wracked her body.

  Edwin was crying and wanted to wake up from whatever kind of nightmare he was having. It definitely wasn't one of his more typical bad dreams. Those usually involved the old scary clown doll his grandmother had give to him for Christmas a few years earlier. Never before had he dreamed of being trapped upside down in a car seat while big dogs scratched at the windows and his mother screamed in the darkness. He suddenly and fervently found himself wishing for another clown doll bad dream. The dog scratching at the window caused pieces of glass to tumble out and Edwin looked at him, thinking, Good doggy. You must be one of those police dogs that I see on TV sometimes, that come to help people in trouble. Hurry up and save me!

  *****

  The coyote could smell and hear wolves to its left, coming from much further down the narrow canyon. Not wanting anything to do with wolves it started to go to its right before a smell of men, disease, and death came to its nostrils on the cool evening breeze. The hunger it had felt seemed to vanish as it backed into the narrow slit of rocks it had been napping in throughout most of the day. It could hear unsteady footsteps approaching from the right. The skinny coyote remained as still as the stones that surrounded it as the footsteps came closer.

  Another wolf howl echoed off the canyon walls and the coyote decided his choice of a neighborhood left much to be desired. It heard the footsteps stop just outside of the narrow gap of rocks it had been sleeping in. There was a grunting nonsensical sound coming from the shadowy figure. The coyote stared up at the man as he swayed unsteadily. The letters ICE on the man's chest meant nothing to the animal, but it smelled blood and crept stealthily forward as its stomach rumbled.

  A coyote will rarely attack people, unless their prey is either a small child or a wounded solitary person. The man outside the coyote's lair seemed to be alone and was most definitely badly injured. It crept another few feet out, stopped, looked toward the right, and then growled as it caught a whiff of something bad on the breeze. The disease and death smell was much stronger.

  Deciding it wasn't as hungry as it had originally thought, the coyote retreated once more to the narrow gap in the stones.

  Along with the wolf howls there was the sound of screams coming from the left. The coyote saw the figure outside begin lurching forward once more. It waited until the footsteps were gone and started back out. What would I have done with a whole man anyway? The coyote wondered in an abstract way. There are many things that would be easier to kill and probably better tasting than a man, maybe a nice rabbit or some mice.

  The coyote turned to the right yet again and went several feet before hearing yet more footsteps and a heavy rasping growl as well. The stench of disease and death grew overwhelming. The coyote's eyes opened wide before it turned and dove into the narrow gap once more, only this time it kept going and followed the twists as turns in the rocks without looking back.

  *****

  Bo yawned as he listened to cross talk coming over the portable radio set. He shook his head in disbelief as one of the officers cruising in a patrol car called in to ask when they'd be calling off the search. Lazy bastard isn't even riding on top of a horse that smells like shit, and farts every hundred feet. He's got a nice comfy cruiser to ride around in and yet he still bitches, Bo thought and listened as a familiar voice came over the radio.

  “This is Sheriff Guiteriz. All units are to continue searching their designated sectors until further notice. However, I'm a reasonable man, if anyone wants to be reassigned go ahead and answer back. I can think of few places to send you. The sewage sanitation plant has been needing a surveillance officer, to catch anyone taking home samples. So, sing out, who among you would like a new assignment?”

  Bo chuckled until he noticed the horse had grown skittish and stiff. He wasn't an expert on horses by any means but could tell something wasn't right. He shined his flashlight around the dirt and sandy ground until he saw something interesting. After climbing off the horse he held tightly to the reins and went cautiously forward.

  Footprints, actually two sets of footprints, were heading north toward the more rugged hill and canyon country. He paused and consulted the map and compass before realizing the tracks appeared to have come from the trailer park. Keying his microphone, Bo whispered, “Come in HQ. This is Autry. I'm at grid C-8 in sector 15. I've found two sets of prints heading away from Keckville. One set looks like the subject is wearing boots. The second set are bare feet. Tracks look very fresh. Request instructions.”

  There followed such a long pause from the radio that he feared the microphone or transmitter was busted before Guiteriz's voice came back. “Stay put. I'm sending backup. A helicopter is en route. ETA is ten minutes. Do not pursue under any circumstances until help arrives. Is that understood?”

  Bo sighed in relief and acknowledged the order. He had no desire to play hero. The things he saw in the trailer park were all the horrors he could stand for one day. He climbed back into the saddle and shined the flashlight beam at the footprints. The horse had apparently become less skittish and uneasy because it began walking in the general direction the prints went.

  Bo saw they seemed to be heading for a narrow gap located between couple of good size hills. The moon had risen and from its light he could tell there was no one hiding in the sparse scrub brush between himself and the valley. He slid the rifle from its scabbard and double checked that it was ready to fire before guiding the horse cautiously forward. About a hundred feet from the shadow filled canyon he heard wolves howling from somewhere ahead. The footsteps obviously headed for the gap and he reined the horse to a stop. If it's a box canyon they can't get out, he realized and glanced at his watch. All I have to do is sit tight and wait maybe another eight more minutes for the cavalry. Besides, orders are or
ders.

  A car horn began honking from somewhere in the darkness ahead and several seconds later a pair of young wolves came running out of the canyon gap. They appeared scared. Neither of them seemed to notice Bo and they kept sprinting away even after the car horn fell silent.

  The deputy quickly looked in bafflement at the map again and tried to imagine how a car could be anywhere ahead. As he stared at the paper, the horse tilted its head while neighing softly and Bo listened more intently as well. The howls had changed. They sounded more like a girl screaming, or perhaps more than one.

  “Giddy-up,” he whispered to the horse and headed for the dark rift between the boulders and hillsides. From one of the saddle bags he quickly pulled out two road flares and got them lit before tossing them on either side of the entrance to the narrow canyon. He looked up at the night sky hoping to see the lights from an approaching helicopter. There weren't any yet. Glancing at his watch he realized backup was still at least six minutes away.

  Another shriek made him start forward into the gap at a gallop. It was one word echoing off the canyon walls and it tore at his heart; “DADDY!”

  *****

  Inside the SUV things were going from bad to nightmarish when the alpha wolf finally broke open the passenger window enough that it could shove its head inside. Edwin reached out and patted the wolf on top of its head and managed to say, “Good doggy,” just before it snapped at his small hand and wrist.

  Megan's head ached from the ear splitting shrieks coming from her little brother. She started working her way back to the front thinking, I don't know what the twit's problem is, but I'm gonna make him scream for real!

  The giant gray wolf's mouth was dribbling blood as it gnawed at Edwin's wrist. The little boy was screaming and thrashing violently around in his upside down car seat.

  Megan had seen enough animated movies featuring wolves to realize that's what was in the process of eating her twit of a brother. She looked on the ceiling of the SUV (which was now serving as the floor) for something to use as a weapon. There were soda bottles, a box of spilled animal crackers, some markers, a coloring book, and a small white plastic eating utensil. She grabbed the last item and stabbed the spork (half spoon/half fork) into the wolf's snout. The first stab seemed to have little effect and she yelled at the beast while continuing to jab it over and over.