Ms. Grimsley

by B.A. Savage

  “Sorry Chee-Chee.”

  The creature’s eyes lights up with anger, “It is the Diabolical Chee-Chee! Imbecile!”

  The man cringes in expectation of something bad, but nothing happens. “Yes…of course, sorry Diabolical Chee-Chee.”

  The creature flies away toward a dark corner of the cavernous lair. As he lands he says, “Where do we get these imbeciles from?”

  The Host emerges from the darkness, “The human race is not a good breeding resource. That is why I create beings such as yourself. Even with my greatness, I still cannot seem to remove the temperament that all you Chee-Chee’s seem to have. Oh well, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, now is it?”

  “No master”, replies Chee-Chee calmly.

  The Host walks over to the body, where Ms. Grimsley is crouched down, seemingly inspecting the corpse. “So, this is the body? Appears to have been in good shape while he was alive. A little more aged than I would like for this test but then again it’s not the body as much as what the mind can retain after death that is the purpose of this experiment.”

  The Host looks at the two men who dragged the crate and the body. “Take the crate to its usual resting place, then you may leave and go see your families. I don’t need to remind of the time allotted, do I? I’m sure you would not want your families to witness your horrific deaths, correct?”

  One of the men responds, “That is correct Master.”

  “Yes, Master. We would not want that to happen.”

  “Good, Kane will see you out. He’s expecting you.”

  The two men drag the crate off.

  “Now that the mortals are out of the room. I would like to ask you how this expedition went.”

  Ms. Grimsley doesn’t respond.

  Chee-Chee states, “It went well.”

  “Well?” questions The Host.

  “Yes, master.”

  “I would not call almost being caught by the local law enforcement, well.”

  “The situation was never out of our control, Master.”

  “Indeed, but you spent almost an hour digging up a corpse for his fighting abilities, yet left alive an obviously well trained fighter. Why did you not kill him and bring him along. A two for one it could have been, correct?”

  Ms. Grimsley looks at The Host with a look of curiosity.

  The Host answers, “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

  Chee-Chee answers apologetically, “The officer was unattainable due to other law enforcement arriving on the scene. I’m deeply sorry for our failure Master.” He bows down in front of The Host.

  “You did not fail me. I was testing your honesty. I am aware of the situation and you made the correct choice. I was simply testing to see if she had turned you against me.”

  He glances over at her to see her cold eyes glaring at him. He is unmoved. “Anyone who loves death as much as Ms. Grimsley, well let’s just say I wanted to assure that the life I gave you is still completely intact.”

  The Host starts to walk back over to the darkness he enters from. “Inform me once the augmentations have been put in place. I have a special practice run planned, if my intel is correct.” He disappears back into the darkness.

  “Yes, Master” answers Chee-Chee

  Mrs. Grimsley is back hunched over the body.

  Chapter Nine

  Knock, knock, knock, knock!

  Someone is pounding on Detective Allen’s door.

  “Who the hell is knocking on my door like they are the police? I am the police.” He looks at the clock next to his bed. It’s 6am. “What? And this early too? It better be important.”

  Knock, knock, knock, knock!

  “Damn it! Hold your horses!”

  He puts on a robe over covering his ‘Rick Rules’ boxers and T-shirt that has a silhouette of a man with a huge afro and the statement, “Can I get down?”

  Once at the door he looks through the peephole and sees nothing but someone’s chest. “Wow! Who the hell could this be?”

  He opens the door and looks up to see the person’s face. The visitor is well over 6 foot, around 250 pounds. It is a white male, shiny bald head, and wearing black goggles with black lenses. “Can I help you?”

  The guest answers with, “We need to talk.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I’m here to help you with your case.”

  “I’ve never seen you around the station.”

  “I don’t work for the police.”

  “Then you can’t help me.” He turns and starts to shut the door. The man puts his hand on the door to stop him from shutting it. “I know about the living dead that were at the cemetery.”

  This sparks his interest, he opens the door. “Come on in.”

  Blowing cold air smoke, Detective Allen asks his guest, “Aren’t you cold? In that tank top and all?”

  The man is wearing a black tank top with no jacket. “No, I’m fine.”

  “So what can you tell me about the walking dead? They were dead right?”

  “Yes. They are the works of a mad scientist who calls himself The Host.”

  “Mad scientist huh? Sounds like a B-movie, but who am I to judge? Captain didn’t believe me when I said they were dead. Can you blame him? I wouldn’t believe me, and I wouldn’t be believing you if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”

  He notices the man is still standing, “Hey you can have a seat, want some coffee?…and…umm, what’s your name?”

  “No, and thank you. My name is Scorch.”

  Scorch picks up Detective Allen’s badge and looks it over.

  Detective Allen says, “Oh, this is just like a B-movie. Didn’t know gang members fought against the walking dead. Oh yeah there was a show on WEBS that has a show like that, but anyways, isn’t the dead supposed to stay dead?”

  Scorch answers as he puts the badge back down, “In a perfect world, yes, but somehow he has managed to awaken the dead and use them for his dirty work. We don’t know exactly what his plan is but we think he’s been kidnapping the homeless for months before he went on to dead corpses.”

  “We have no reports of kidnapping of the homeless recently.”

  “Who reports the homeless? And who would believe them?”

  “I see your point. If you knew he was doing this, why not stop him? And who is ‘we’?”

  “It’s kinda complicated but we have very reliable information that he is an immortal… and a very disgruntled immortal I might add.”

  “Immortal? As in can’t die?”

  “That’s right, well we know of a way but we have no way of obtaining the materials needed.”

  “And who is ‘we’ again?”

  “We don’t really have a name but we are a few people who watch out for the city under the radar.”

  “A government organization?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “I don’t think I need to know anything else.”

  “We are not some kind of cult or anything, we help protect people from what others don’t see, such as walking dead bodies.”

  “So, why did you need to talk to me?”

  “We need someone to help us on the inside, that has seen first-hand part of the world that most don’t even know exists.”

  “I’m not going to be an informant for some kind of B-Team.”

  “I think it was A-team, and we are nothing like that.”

  “Whatever, I…You’ve been following me haven’t you? That’s how you knew about the dead people at the cemetery. How long you been following me?”

  “Since, we realize there may be a direct connection between you and the walking dead, as you like to call it.”

  Now really curious, “What kind of connection?”

  “Have you met Mrs. Grimsley yet?”

  “Who?”

  “The lady at the park.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Host’s intelligence was correct, and he held off telling Ms. Grimsley the information that was most likely th
e most important to her until he explained the whole plan first.

  “Well, that is all.”

  The Host dismisses the crew involved in the mission except Ms. Grimsley and The Diabolical Chee-Chee. “Now that the not-need-to-knows are gone, I have some information about that cop that attempted to stop you at the gravesite that you might find...motivating.”

  Ms. Grimsley understood that he was directing this to her, so she turns toward him but remains silent and emotionless as usual, that was until he says, “He is the son of the man who killed your parents years ago.”

  The only, yet very noticeable emotion she displayed is to open her eyes wide in shock. This only lasted a few seconds and came right back after The Host explained that the cop works out of the police station that they are about to attack. Her eyes went back to their usual dead look but her body is visibly shaking. It’s either anger, anticipation or both.

  The Host doesn’t care and continues, “Do not mistake me giving you this information as an act of caring about you or your past. I gave you this information in hopes that it motivates you to bring back this cop, dead or alive...or even mutilated. His martial arts background is impressive and will make a great addition to my army. Do not forget that you work for me and that if you do not do as I command, you will get closer acquainted to death sooner than you expect.”

  He turns and starts to walk off, he says as he walks off, “Diabolical Chee-Chee, make sure that you bring me what I want.”

  Chee-Chee answers, “Yes, Master.”

  The Diabolical Chee-Chee and Ms. Grimsley walk off to join their team.

  Chapter Eleven

  “And enough is enough!” yells Captain Dearmyer. All the officers in attendance immediately look forward if they weren’t already paying attention. He continues, “I listened to the calls last night, and crossed the ones in which Detective Allen called for backup with where some of you were located at the time of his calls. I’m very disappointed. We get enough shit from the taxpayers and government officials on how we are not doing our job protecting the public, in that we don’t need this kinda of shit happening internally.” He looks around the room with accusing eyes.

  The room is silent.

  “We are a family here.” He holds up his badge, “These here are our wedding rings, our bond, our kinship or whatever it needs to be called to get you all to understand that if we don’t have each other’s back out there, who does? I know not one of you would leave a family member out in the streets asking for help or protection. What happened last night, while fresh, is still the past. Today, begins a new day. Today, things will change going forward or you will not be part of this squad. Do I make myself clear?”

  An unanimous ‘yes sir!’ echoes throughout the small conference room.

  “Dismissed.”

  The group of roughly twenty men pan out in their separate directions. Detective Allen goes back to his desk and starts looking through some paperwork. Detective McBauer stops at his desk, put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey kid, sorry bout last night. I really do appreciate you covering my ass on that. I got your back whenever you need anything, to me, you are a standup guy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So kid, what the hell really happened out there?”

  Before Allen can reply, there is a commotion in the lobby that gathers everyone’s attention as a woman screams, “What in the hell is going on over there?” asks McBauer.

  The cop working the front desk replies loudly, “It’s cool, we just got some drunk playing grab ass with one of the pros out here. We got it under control.” The apparent drunk man has two officers trying to restrain him as he staggers around. They are having a tough time with him. Detective Allen looks back at McBauer and starts to answer him again but stops mid-sentence when he hears in the background one of the restraining officers state, “Damn, this guy is freezing cold.”

  Immediately Thomas yells, “Get away from that guy!”

  As almost on cue, the drunken man straightens up and delivers a leaping split kick, nailing both officers in the chest, sending them to the floor. A second later, both double doors to the stationhouse are flung open and a horde of clearly dead homeless are emerging from all directions. The ringleader is a dead Chris Schrock.

  He looks over around the room until he finds Detective Allen. Once they have locked eyes, the once seemingly random attacking horde, now turns their collective attention onto him. Allen does a decent job of fighting off the approaching dead men, and once the other officers seemed to notice that all eyes are on him, most do their best to help out but the sheer numbers have them overwhelmed.

  Schrock has made it across the room with a broom stick in hand and is about to nail Allen with a broom handle when the top of his head is blown off, spraying residue onto the back of Allen. He turns around to see a massive and muscular Native American man with guns in both hands blazing numerous bums in the head with precise accuracy while running towards him. Once the man has made it to Allen, he says, “You must be Detective Allen. Scorch sent me. I’m Big Chief Gunz but my friends call me The BCG. We got to get you to the roof, seal the door and get you out of the open. That way we can actually set up shop and protect you till this mess is done. Follow me.”

  “Wait! How do you know where the roof is?” questions Detective Allen.

  “Duck!”

  Allen does, allowing BCG to put one through another walking corpse’s head.

  “We don’t got time for explaining right now, once we’re safe we can work out the details.”

  Allen nods in agreement and they both make their way to the stairs leading to the roof, through the walking dead and dead comrades on the ground. Once on the stairwell, they fight off a few more followers, make it through the door and lock it shut with a few approaching deadheads on the stairwell. As they both look at the door, questioning silently if it will hold, Detective Allen asks, “So, what the hell is going on? Is it my imagination or were all those…things...coming after me?”

  As both men turn towards the noisy helicopter that had caught their attention, BCG is hit in the face with a 2x4 that was broken off of a pallet a few feet away. This drops the big man to the ground quick and hard. Detective Allen checks on him and looks up to find a gun pointed at his head.

  “Come with us!” demands Kane with the 2x4 still in his hand. The other man with the gun adds, “Hurry the hell up!”

  “Who are you and what the hell do you want with me?”

  “Just get the fuck up and move. Or would you rather me just shoot you in the head right here.”

  “Well, I prefer you not to shoot me in the head right here or anywhere matter of fact.”

  Kane drops the 2x4 and walks over and handcuffs Detective Allen. As they head over to the helicopter, unnoticed to them was a man who had climbed up the side of the building with amazing speed and near humanly impossible movements. The man is wearing a black body suit that seems to be lined with thin metal strips all over it. Once the man has reached the top of the building, he stands straight after doing odd movements as in popping his joints back into place. He looks over at BCG, who is still trying to recover from getting his clock cleaned. BCG says as he staggers to his feet but falls back to one knee, “I’m fine Doc, but they got him on that copter.”

  The two men and Detective Allen are on the copter when they notice this man running towards them. “Up! Up! Up!” yells one of the men to the pilot, who does as told.

  Dr. Q, quickly approaching the copter uses one of the rooftop fan casings to make a desperation leap towards the ascending helicopter. As his outstretched hand nears the landing gear he smiles but that grin is replaced with shock when he is shot dead center mass in his chest. He exclaims, “Oh, green tacos on a Wednesday!”

  The impact of the bullet was like running into a brick wall and he drops like a ton of bricks back to the rooftop.

  Across the street on another rooftop is a sniper posted in laying position next to Ms. Grimsley, who has been or
chestrating the dead army from high above. She is extremely focused and doesn’t notice the approaching individual until the sniper next to her is snatched up, smacked around and thrown a few feet away. This grabs her attention. She turns around to find Scorch in front of her. Ms. Grimsley pulls out a two foot fighting staff from a sheath on her back. It extends on both ends to a length of six feet. Scorch picks up a loose pipe that was on the roof to even the playing field. She charges Scorch and they both fight with Ms. Grimsley making most of the contact. After Ms. Grimsley took Scorch to the ground for the second time, Scorch leaps up and says, “I have had enough of this.”

  Ms. Grimsley gives a slight smirk.

  Scorch drops the pipe and claps both her wrist together and then immediately extends her arms with palms outward. Fire shoots from them like a flame thrower.

  Ms. Grimsley does a graceful backflip that allows her to escape the hot cloud burst of flames. Now with a little distance between them, Ms. Grimsley looks over at the police station and notices the approaching helicopter. She puts her staff away, and grabs her whip from her side and runs towards the edge of the building with Scorch in tow. Once the copter is above the edge of the building, Ms. Grimsley whips the whip towards the landing gear in hopes to wrap it around the landing gear to pull her to safety as it lifted upward again. This did not work as expected. The whirling vortex of the helicopter blades drew the whip towards it along with Ms. Grimsley. As she rapidly was being sucked towards the blades to her death, Scorch stopped underneath her waiting to catch her when she let go and fell back to the rooftop.

  The blades were eating up the whip as if it was a hungry monster, at the last moment, she let go of the whip and falls back towards the roof. Lucky for her, one of the men in the copter, who was tethered in, was able to grab by the wrist and save her from being capture by Scorch whom was a mere foot away from grabbing her foot. “Damn it! Hey what’s this?” He notices a necklace on the ground. It’s Ms. Grimsley’s.

  On the other rooftop, Dr. Q helps BCG to his feet. BCG asks him, ‘You ok, Doctor?”

  “Yeah, bulletproof vest built into this suit. It’s a very light durable polymer that I created. But I bet there might be some internal damage. Have to get that check out when we get back to HQ.”