Death and Taxes

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  Clarice turned around to face her fiancé. “You can run a mile in under six.”

  “Look, I’m telling you Ryan isn’t like the others. He’s strong and quick. I’m not about to run past him unless I absolutely have to.”

  “I could shoot him,” Clarice suggested. “Granted, we’ve only got two bullets, but still...”

  “Maybe if we wait, they’ll leave,” Nick offered.

  “Or more will show up.” Clarice rubbed her temples. She was tired and wanted this to be over, and Nick’s non-compliance with her plan was starting to grate against her. “Let’s say we make it into the next room. Then what?”

  Nick’s mouth twisted as he thought about the question. “I don’t know anything about that destruct system they were talking about,” he said. “But since Dr. Forbes and Gaston are dead, I’m not sure we can even use it. And if we could, I doubt we could start it up with them right on our heels.”

  “Can we even get out?”

  “Should be a regular elevator past another security post at the far end,” Nick said. “They were talking about it before your boss got there and smashed his way in. I don’t think there’s anything fancy about using it. All we need to do is swipe a badge at the bottom and in we go.”

  “Any badge?”

  Nick shrugged. “They didn’t say, but I bet the one we grabbed before will at least get us in the elevator.”

  “Well, that’s something,” she commented. She checked the gun again out of habit and tapped the engraved horse on the side idly with her finger.

  A minute passed, and no one said anything.

  “Maybe we should backtrack,” Nick suggested. “If we found another gun or some ammo, we could shoot our way out.”

  “We could find more zombies, too.”

  “I know. You’ve said that twice now.”

  “You’ve made similar suggestions, twice now,” she said. Clarice thumped the back of her head against the wall, trying to jumpstart her creative process. “Okay,” she said. “Anything we pick, we’re obviously going to second guess for eternity. We just need to commit to something and hope it works out for the best.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Of course,” Clarice answered. She garnished her cooked up idea with a pinch of imitation-courage. “We’ll get their attention and have them come over here. They don’t move fast, right? So I’ll pop two of them in the head when they come close. That just leaves one to get around, which should be easy.”

  “You want to fight?”

  “Anne would fight,” Clarice said. “I’m sure of it. It’s the only real answer I could come up with before.”

  “Anne? The pirate?” Nick gave a nervous laugh at the end of his question.

  “Yes, the pirate,” she said. “You don’t seem as enthused about her as I am.”

  Her fiancé’s bag fidgeting grew worse. “I think there might be better, more modern alternatives. Marines. A tank. Anything. Hell, I bet a ninja would be perfect for this.”

  “Ninjas?” Clarice scoffed. She straightened her cap and fixed some of her hair that had fallen out. “Ninjas wouldn’t be nearly as good here.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  Nick took a step back, clearly ready to defend his position. “Ninjas are stealthy, have swords, and can hit you in the eye with a throwing star a hundred feet away. They could split a hundred zombie heads with their bare hands and not even break a sweat.”

  “Yeah, so?” Clarice replied, unfazed at his list. “Pirates have cannons, blunderbusses, pistols, and cutlasses. You don’t need to be a karate expert to lop off a head. And if you don’t believe me, when we get out, we can stick it on the Internet and put it to a vote.”

  “Fine,” Nick said. “Loser does the dishes for a month. And that doesn’t mean you suggest we eat out for thirty days in a row either.”

  Clarice said nothing and extended her betting hand, to which Nick took and sealed the deal.

  “Now that that’s settled, let’s get to work,” she said, turning her attention back to more serious matters. She inched back to the corner and dared a peek, only to find three pairs of zombie's eyes staring at her, thirty feet away.

  Clarice ducked back. “Crap.”

  “What?”

  “I think they saw me.” She looked again. Her undead boss staggered toward her, closely followed by the other two. “Yep. And they’re coming.”

  “Shoot or run?”

  “I’m shooting. Then we might be running,” she said. Clarice waited as long as she could as her former boss made his way toward her. Taking a deep breath, Clarice aimed and squeezed off the first round. The weapon kicked like a rabid quarter horse and spouted an enormous flame from its barrel.

  Ryan’s head snapped backward, and he stumbled for a moment before letting loose a snarl and continuing forward.

  “Die, damn you!” Clarice yelled as she fired a second time. His head snapped again in response, but again, he did not fall.

  “I don’t believe this!” she said, backing up and dropping the gun.

  “You’re supposed to hit them in the head!” Nick exclaimed.

  “I did hit him in the head!” she yelled. “Twice!”

  Nick grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the hall. They ran back to the generator room with Ryan in full pursuit. Clarice tried a few of the doors along the way, hoping something, anything, would pan out. All of them refused to open.

  “Is there another exit here?” Nick asked once they were in the room. “Door? Vent? Ladder?”

  Clarice slammed the door shut and locked it behind them. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “There’s got to be something we can use.” Nick scoured the area. In one of the back corners he found a toolbox inside a tall, green locker. He dragged it out into the middle of the room and went through its contents. “Hammer?” he asked, holding it up for Clarice.

  “That’s not going to cut it,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m telling you I shot him twice in the head and nothing happened. That dinky little hammer isn’t going to do anything but piss him off.”

  “I told you we should have saved those shots and tried something else,” Nick said as he dove back into the box.

  Clarice stopped her search. “How the hell would I know he’s a super zombie?”

  “Because I said he was?” Nick kicked the box across the floor after finding nothing else of use. He then expanded his search to the rest of the room.

  “Can we save the fight for after we’re not dead?”

  Before Nick could answer, something pounded against the door. The second blow left a large dent in the center. The third split the upper portion.

  “As long as you seem to know everything,” Clarice said, spinning around in place. “I don’t suppose you know where we can find a cannon.”

  “Nope. And unless you’ve got some canister shot, it wouldn’t matter.” Nick bent down and picked up a screwdriver right as the door came off its hinges.

  Ryan Conner, Tax Collector, stood on the other side and stepped through the frame. Standing behind him were the two other zombies who, for whatever reason, stayed outside of the room.

  “Keep him busy,” Clarice said as a most brilliant and pirate-like idea came to mind. All that it needed to be perfect was for her to swing from one yardarm to another. Clarice scampered up the generator, bag slung over her shoulder. The extra six or seven feet wasn’t as high as she would have liked, but it would have to suffice. Perched upon her makeshift crow’s nest, Clarice zipped the bag open and started tossing clothes.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast,” Nick called out, throwing his screwdriver as Ryan stepped forward. The tool bounced off the zombie’s head with no effect. Three more tools flew through the air with similar results.

  Clarice looked up at her boss who was now closing fast on Nick. “Hey,” she yelled, triumphantly pulling the UCK free from its garment prison. “Up here!”

  Ryan ignored her cries a
nd continued moving in on Nick.

  Her fiancé darted forward, hammer in hand. It connected with the side of Ryan’s face with a distinct, wet thud. Ryan snarled and backhanded Nick, who went tumbling to the ground.

  Clarice hesitated, wondering if she should throw the jar instead of engaging directly. But the distance was too far for comfort, and Nick was too close to her boss. “I think I’ll file for a homestead exemption,” she boldly announced, “on a secondary residence.”

  Ryan paused. Slowly, he turned from Nick, who scrambled away. The unholy tax collector glared at his assistant and moved toward her.

  Clarice gave the UCK a few light tosses in her hand, trying to gauge its weight. Hopefully, whatever bad thing Dr. Forbes had warned her about, wouldn’t kill her as well. As Ryan came within a half-dozen lurches of her, she gave herself grand accolades. No ninja would ever think of a plan like this. This was downright smashing.

  “Mr. Conner,” she said in a calm and even tone. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to resign my position, effective immediately.” It wasn’t the most eloquent of speeches, a touch cheesy, and she would have liked something a bit more piratey. Yar! however, didn’t quite seem to fit.

  Ryan drove forward.

  Clarice heaved the UCK, and Ryan snatched it out of the air before it could reach his head.

  Clarice felt her heart sink.

  Ryan turned the jar over, examining its contents. With a grunt, he let it drop and continued moving forward. The jar hit the ground, rolled across the floor, and came to rest at another zombie’s feet.

  “Damn it all to hell.” Clarice wondered if she could jump over him and dash through the door without getting caught. She wondered if Nick would make it as well. A glance toward him seemed to show that he was thinking the same.

  Ryan put one hand on the generator, apparently intent on climbing it.

  Clarice looked past him, just in time to see a zombie smash the UCK over Ryan’s head.

  * * *

  A short bit prior to Clarice’s failed attack, Jack freed himself from the windowsill and took a few minutes to decide his next course of action. Ryan tended to the fine catch he had made, and Danita munched on her own. It looked like there was enough to share, but Jack knew it was bad form to eat another’s meal unless invited. So Jack walked back out into the hall, intent on picking up a fresh trail. But between the sounds of Danita smacking and the two separate directions he could go—three if he looked back to the room—Jack couldn’t decide what to do.

  Before he could make up his mind, Ryan joined him, soon followed by Danita. It was at that point there was yelling. Lots and lots of yelling. Jack knew if there was yelling, there could be eating.

  He turned to the right and spied a young woman’s head peeping around the corner at the far end of the hall. It was only there for an instant before vanishing, but that was all the incentive he needed to give chase right along with Ryan and Danita.

  Ryan soon had a hefty lead, and try as Jack might, he could not match the former tax collector’s speed.

  Jack slowed, pondering what this distance gap meant, and he felt a tug at his arm.

  Danita, a pace behind him, had her hand clamped on his elbow.

  Jack stopped in his tracks and suspected she wanted to talk in private. He also suspected Ryan was cheating somehow and figured she had the same concerns. No zombie could knock down doors as easily as Ryan did, and no one—no one—broke the three and a half mile per hour barrier. Mmmmmuuurr. (He’s cheating.)

  Danita’s eyes narrowed. Auuuurr. (Let’s kill him.)

  Jack, glad she wanted him removed from the game as well, waved his pen excitedly. It was a fine pen, and he was certain it would be up to the task of driving through Ryan’s skull. Peennnnnnnnnnnnnnn. (Pen!)

  Danita smiled, her rotted gums and tongue showing well, and pushed Jack to move faster, clearly approving of his master plan. By the time they caught up with Ryan, he was already pounding on a large, gray door. It didn’t take long for him to batter it down, and just like the previous barrier they had watched Ryan destroy, on the other side of this one were more humans.

  Ryan wasted no time milling about. The instant the door broke apart, he entered the room.

  Jack followed, gripping his pen tightly. He picked out a soft spot on the back of Ryan’s bloodied head that would make a perfect target.

  Danita pulled him back and kept him in the doorway for a moment. Mmuurrgggrrrmmmm. (Stab extra hard.)

  Jack waved his pen at her one last time. It had been a trustworthy pen thus far, and he saw no reason why it couldn’t stab extra hard if he wanted it to. But then Jack realized he only had one free hand. More importantly, he also realized that one hand couldn’t stab as hard as two. And if he was going to stab Ryan Conner, former tax collector extra hard in the back of the head, it would probably be a good idea to free the other hand as well.

  Jack handed Danita the pen, and despite her immediate protests, he entered the room and resumed his pursuit of Ryan. A few airborne tools whipped past, but did not offer any significant distraction. The small jar that rolled to Jack’s feet, however, did. Merely a pace away from Ryan, Jack paused and picked it up.

  It was round and shiny. The well-taken-care-of nothing inside looked especially empty.

  Jack turned his attention back to Ryan, jar still in hand. The former tax collector was preoccupied with a perched human, and if there was ever a time to be rid of the cheater, that time was now. Even Jack understood that.

  Jack raised his arms and stepped forward to strike the final blow. He looked up and realized that it wasn’t his 1941, catalog product number 31A, green metallic shell, ballpoint pen in his hands, but rather he had a jar, small and round.

  Grunting with indifference, Jack smashed it on Ryan’s head anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There was a small bang.

  Clarice shielded her eyes at the blinding light, nearly toppling off the generator in the process. When she dropped her hand, she saw that one of the zombies was knocked over, one was frozen in the doorway, and her former boss was completely gone. In her former employer's place was a tiny, black point that rapidly expanded into a three-foot large sphere.

  “What on earth?” she said. Forgetting everything else, she eased down and inched toward it. In her one week as a secretary, Clarice had never seen or heard of anything like this happening.

  The floating ball refused to fill her in on recent events.

  A groan from Nick pulled her attention away. As he rolled over, Clarice offered him a hand as he took to his feet. “Christ that was loud,” he said.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he said as he rubbed his temples.

  “Good.”

  When she took a step forward, Nick quickly tugged her back by the belt loops on her pants. “Careful. You saw what happened to your boss.”

  “No kidding,” she replied. Clarice peered deep within the formless void. In the center there was something swirling, tiny and barely visible. A creamy mist grew from the center, spiral arms reaching out toward the edge of the sphere. “What’s going on in there?” Clarice asked, inching her head as close as she dared.

  “My guess is that it must have worked,” Nick answered, his voice full of awe. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

  “What worked? The UCK?” she asked, still unsure of what she was looking at.

  Nick shrugged. “Got a better idea? It was supposed to make a universe. I don’t think they said anything about how big it would be.”

  Clarice blinked in order to rid herself of the hypnotic effect of the sphere. “We should be going,” she said, carefully staying clear of the fallen zombie. “Do you suppose it’s dead?”

  “It’s not moving,” said Nick. “As long as it stays there, who cares?”

  He then motioned over to the female corpse in the doorway. To both of their relief, she remained still. “What about her?”

  “I guess we’ll see,�
�� she answered. Clarice swallowed hard and picked up the hammer from the floor. Her heart raced, and her muscles were taught and ready to spring her back or strike out if need be. When the female zombie didn’t move, Clarice bolted past. When she was clear, Nick followed suit.

  The pair said not a word to each other as they raced down the halls. Nick stopped once at the security station to pick up his laptop, and a moment later, they both arrived at the emergency egress system.

  “Maybe we should try and blow this place,” he said, looking at the enormous contraption in the center of the room. His finger traced over a small instruction panel as he gave it a read. “I might be able to hack into their destruct device.”

  Clarice continued past, whipped out the ID badge and ran it through the scanner. The doors in front promptly slid open. “Feel free to stick around then,” she said. “I’m leaving. Someone else can worry about the mess.”

  Nick didn’t reply and joined her inside the elevator. He reached over, took her hand in his, and pushed the button marked ‘L.’

  The elevator began to rise, and the same piano concerto that had joined Clarice earlier on the phone now joined them both through overhead speakers. She found the music relaxing, and her jittery hands returned to normal.

  “I can’t believe we made it,” she said, with a half-laugh, half-sob.

  “Me either.”

  Clarice wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled into his side.

  Soon, the doors slid open, and the pair took a tentative step out, half expecting to be attacked again or still stuck underground. Instead, they found themselves in a small concrete building with a mountain view. In the corner was a large metal desk with a pegboard just above it. Hanging from one of the hooks on that pegboard was a set of keys. Clarice snatched them without hesitation and pulled her fiancé outside. A moment later, she found a blue pickup truck parked a dozen feet away, gave the keys a try, and smiled as the door popped open.

  “Where do you suppose we are?” Nick asked as he walked to the passenger side.

  Clarice looked skyward and gleefully let drops of rain splash against her face. After relishing the skydiving drops of water, she turned to her fiancé and said, “Somewhere raining.”