Jacked

by Shane McKenzie

  “I know. I’m sorry, I am.”

  Sid let him go, but stayed in a defensive stance. Gabe rubbed his wrist as he turned, an embarrassed smile twitching on his mouth.

  “I don’t know where that came from, Sid. I think maybe I need some sleep. Get my head straight. Tomorrow, we can try the radio again. Cool?”

  “How’s your leg doing? Your hands?” Wet splashing and gurgles sang behind him.

  “Whatta you mean? I told you, I washed—”

  “I know. But you sounded…shit, you sounded weird just now, man. Seriously. Like fucking possessed, hypnotized or some shit.” Sid glared at Gabe’s pink leg, the fleshy nubs of his toes. “How do you know all that shit? About the slime I mean?”

  Gabe sighed, collapsed onto the floor and stretched out. He rolled his eyes as he rested his hands behind his head. “Pulled it out of my ass, okay? You say zombies, and that’s what I came up with. I’m just throwing in my stupid theory. That’s all.”

  “It just seemed, I don’t know. Thorough. Like you really knew what you were talking about.”

  “Well I don’t. You saw the slime just like I did. And those fucking things are out there and it’s obvious they want us for some reason. Maybe you’re right, maybe they want to eat us.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Sid cringed as the vomit continued to sluice the window behind him. He trotted back behind the desk and plopped into the chair, ran his hands through his hair.

  “I think you should try and get some sleep. There’s not a damn thing we can do right now. Save your energy. I don’t know about you, man, but I’m fucking exhausted. Tomorrow, who knows. Maybe we can get that guy on the radio, find out where he’s at. Or shit, man. Maybe some help comes, right?”

  “Yeah.” Sid slid his hands over his ears to block out the symphony of liquid hitting glass, the constant sizzle and hiss of their sanctuary slowly dissolving.

  Gabe said something else, but the sound of Sid’s thumping temples and heavy breathing blocked it out as he pressed his hands harder against his ears. Gabe’s mouth moved like a ventriloquist dummy, then he turned back around and got comfortable. Before long, his mouth was propped open as his stomach rose and fell with his breathing.

  Sid let his hands fall into his lap. He couldn’t take the sounds, wanted to get something between himself and the windows. After grabbing the clock radio, he crept back toward Tom’s office. Crow had shifted and now lay on his side, but still snored. Gabe’s soft rattling breaths stuttered behind him. The chaotic sounds of the hell outside surrounded him, and he quickly slid into the office, shut the door just enough to muffle the noise. Even just lessening the volume was comforting.

  He plugged the clock back into the wall, surprised they even still had power. He assumed that wouldn’t last much longer. Either that or the zombies would get in before that even mattered.

  The clock flashed twelve o’ clock in red, robotic letters. Sid welcomed the static as it helped block out the other sounds. He laid his head on the desk and worked the tuner to and fro.

  His vision grew blurrier by the second, and before long, unconsciousness claimed him.

  But his dreams were no kinder than reality. Slime-dripping nightmares were waiting to pull him under and hold him down into the green ocean of apocalypse.

  ***

  Sid jerked awake, wiped the saliva away from the side of his face. Something banged hard outside of the office.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Over and over. Sid imagined the spongy zombies pounding their soft fists against the glass, finally growing tired of waiting and getting desperate to get inside.

  Sid shook his head, rubbed his eyes. He stood and stretched, winced and groaned at his stiff, sore muscles. Every movement was agony. On top of that, his spine ached from being arched over as he slept, and he checked the clock. It still flashed noon at him, but judging from the light spilling in through the crack in the door, he’d been out for at least a few hours. Not much, but a lot more than he’d expected to get.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Sid was in no hurry to see the zombies again, but he shuffled his way to the door, stuck his head out. Crow wasn’t in his spot. The zombies weren’t pounding on the glass. They stood there as they always had, sloppy bodies pressed flat against the windows. Vomiting. Groaning.

  Sid stepped out and rounded the corner. And then he saw it. What was making the sound. His breath caught in his throat and he fell backward onto his ass. “No…wh-what are you…? Oh fuck…fuck me…”

  Crow stood over Gabe’s body. The thick man held a 45-lb weight plate with both hands, gripping it by the lip and slamming it down onto the red mess of Gabe’s face.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Crow’s face and torso were spattered with blood, and his hands and half of his forearms were covered in it. He growled as he continued to smash metal to meat.

  There was no green, only red and white inside of Gabe’s head.

  Sid’s lip trembled and he found himself unable to move. He wanted to get back into the office, wanted to lock himself inside, away from Crow.

  Crow tossed the weight plate aside and wiped the blood from his eyes with his left bicep, then turned and faced Sid. His fists were dark red and they shook at his sides. “He was one of them. You saw it just like I did. That shit got on him, and whoever it touches turns into one of them.” He waved his hand toward the window. “It was only a matter of time, right? Right!”

  Sid pulled his hair with both fists as he stared at the splattered pile of violence that used to be his friend. He gagged, turned his head, and breathed deep. Hot tears flowed down his face and he crawled backward away from Crow as fast as he could manage.

  “You wanna know my theory, kid?” Crow kicked the woman’s body out of his way as he strolled toward Sid. “I think that stuff out there is seeping up from the bowels of Hell. The hot pus of demons. And it’s only the beginning. Hell on Earth, motherfucker.”

  “But Gabe…he was…he didn’t—”

  “That piece of shit was one of them! I fuckin’ saved our lives!” He slammed his knuckles into the mirror beside him and sent a roadmap of cracks along its surface. Large shards crashed to the floor and Crow pulled his bloody fist away, flexed it. “He was gonna turn. Bloat up. Fuckin’ try to kill us both!”

  Sid put his hands up and nodded. “Okay, I know. I know.”

  “You gotta problem with what I did? Is that it? You think I murdered your friend?” Crow chuckled and ran his stained hands over the top of his head. His freshly cut knuckles leaked blood over his scalp that ran down his face and drew crooked, red lines across it. He squatted, rested his forearms on his knees. “I’m your friend now. And you’re mine. And me and you? We’re gonna make Hell wish it never surfaced. We’re gonna stomp these cocksuckers right back down to where they came from.” He jumped to his feet, arched his back and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Whoooo! You hear that, you slimy, green motherfuckers?”

  Sid caught a glimpse of the windows behind Crow’s back. The zombies compressed their fat, greasy bodies against the glass, but they no longer peeled away from the horde to soak up more of their hell slime. They didn’t have to anymore. The slime had risen while Sid had been asleep and was now high enough to engulf the parking lot, concealing the zombies’ legs up to their shins.

  And there were other creatures there. They looked like they could have been dogs at one time, but it was difficult to tell. One of them, long and green and fleshy, floated atop the slime and peered into the gym as goo exploded from its snout. Other bloated beasts were peppered here and there with the zombies. Hairless and bloated, no more teeth or claws or hooves or horns. Just mounds of slime-soaked flesh.

  Wisps of steam started to seep in at the bottom of the windows where the slime touched it. From the looks of it, the slime could rush in at any moment. And then the waiting zombies could finally claim their prize.

  “Oh god…the slime, it’s…” Sid pointed toward the window, his words now whispery gasps.<
br />
  Crow glanced, then turned his attention back to Sid, nodding and grinning. He rubbed his hands together and growled. “It’s Hell, kid. Like I said. Go take a better look, see for yourself.”

  Sid didn’t move for a second, refusing to get anywhere near Crow. The musclehead shook his head and moved aside, then swept his arm as if urging Sid to walk by.

  Sid’s body had tightened up again, and he grimaced as he limped across the gym. He made sure to keep as much distance as possible from the blood-spattered giant. He gave Gabe’s mauled body another look, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t. What used to be a head wasn’t even recognizable as human anymore. Just a chunky, splattered mess of red and white and gray. Tufts of hair. Gabe’s shirt was pulled up past his belly button, and Sid couldn’t help but take notice of the abdominal muscles there, painted red now, the small and curly hairs pasted to the skin.

  You could grate cheese on these abs.

  Sid covered his mouth as the bile rushed out of his stomach and up his throat. It shot out, sprayed in different directions and all over his shirt as it collided with his fingers. He moved his hand as another stream shot out and splashed over the floor.

  “Quit fuckin’ around. We don’t have time.” Crow crossed his arms, deep trenches running across his thick forearms.

  Sid swallowed down the rest of the sick that begged to be released and took deep breaths as he made his way toward the stack of benches at the front doors. His muscles pleaded with him not to, but he climbed the stack anyway, wincing and whimpering as his body ignited with ache. But once his eyes drank in the scene, all pain was forgotten.

  The street was gone, along with most of the landscape he could see. A raging ocean of slime, all moving in one direction. The air was cloudy with swirling steam, and when Sid pressed his hand against the glass, he yelped, yanked it away. It was like touching the flat side of an iron. The heat radiating off the glass threw a coating of sweat over Sid’s body. He could see a few roofs here and there, but almost everything else was gone. Any cars that had been on the street were either completely engulfed or dissolved. Nothing floated in the slime, all was consumed by it.

  Except for flesh. Except for the zombies.

  At first he thought it was bodies bobbing on the surface being carried away by the slime’s current. But they moved. Some swimming against the current, swaying in the ooze like inflated crocodiles. The bloated zombies bathed in the slime, dove down and came back up with their orifices filled with it. They looked like diseased manatees in polluted pond water.

  The zombies standing by the glass dropped and rolled in the ooze, scooped it up and ladled it into their mouths, slurped it and licked their puffed lips. They slathered themselves in it, covering every inch of their bodies.

  The glass had begun to warp in places, especially at the bottom. Misshapen bulges here and there that sagged inward. The glass had grown so cloudy and beaded with moisture in some spots that Sid couldn’t see through it anymore.

  “We have to…we have to get out of here.” Sid jumped off the stack of benches and bellowed when his feet landed. Electric pain rode every muscle, and he nearly fell over but was grabbed on both shoulders by two massive mitts.

  “Where you runnin’ off to, kid?” Crow’s fingers dug into Sid’s shoulders.

  Sid grimaced, clutched at the bloody hands but couldn’t get them to let up. “Please! We can’t stay here…we have to think of a way out of here!”

  Crow released his grip, but followed with a hard shove to the center of Sid’s chest. Sid stumbled back and landed on his side. His teeth snapped shut and sent hot needles up his gums and into his jaw muscles.

  “Hell is here. We have lots of work to do.” Crow grabbed a fistful of the front of Sid’s shirt and hauled him back to his feet. Crow’s hot breath blasted into Sid’s face as the large man got face to face with him. “God is testing me. Testing both of us. And there isn’t any time.” He let go of Sid’s shirt but grabbed Sid’s left wrist, crushed it in his sticky, bloody grip. He stomped toward the weight lifting area, dragging Sid behind him. “I need a spot.”

  The grin that had crawled across Crow’s face when he positioned himself at the bench press liquefied Sid’s spine.

  This asshole is completely insane. He fucking murdered Gabe! And now it’s just me and…

  Crow yanked Sid’s shorts down to his ankles, tried to bend him over his knee.

  Sid fought, desperately tried to yank his wrist from Crow’s grip, but got nowhere. He swung with his other fist and landed a punch to the center of Crow’s face. Blood blossomed from the big man’s nose, but he only spat and chuckled.

  “That’s the spirit, motherfucker!” Crow’s fist was like a boulder slamming in the side of Sid’s head, and for a second, everything was black. His mouth tasted like metal as his ears squealed.

  Crow kicked him in the chest and stomach, lifted him up by the throat and draped him over his own knee. Sid could only moan and attempt to breathe through the blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

  Then a pinch. And the burn. Rushing through him like magma in his veins.

  Crow pulled the syringe out of Sid’s ass and shoved him off his knee. Sid rolled arm over arm. He reached down and wiped his hand over the injection spot; his palm came away bloody.

  Crow used the same needle and sucked it full of yellow liquid. He jabbed it into his left glute, pressed the plunger down. Picked up another glass vial of juice, refilled the syringe, repeated in the right glute.

  He threw the needle across the gym and screamed. Every vein on his body bulged, every muscle hardened and looked ready to explode. He marched in a circle as he slammed his fists against himself, hollering like he was on fire, but loving it. Loving every fucking second of the agony. His torso heaved as he caught his breath, a deep chortle sputtering from his chapped lips as he turned to face Sid.

  “Spot me.” Crow smirked as sweat rolled across his face like liquid marbles. The barbell had already been stacked with weights, as most of the equipment had. He slammed his back into the bench press and twisted his fists over the bar. “Hurry the fuck up!”

  “No.” Sid whimpered as he climbed to his feet. He shot a nervous glance at the glass as the steam continued to roll into the gym. Every breath smelled and tasted like burning plastic.

  “Do it now!”

  “Fuck you. You’re fucking crazy, man. Look around us! We need to do something and do it now!”

  The back of Sid’s knees collided with something as he blindly backed away from Crow. He turned to find a standing curling station.

  Crow stood, rolled his head from left to right and popped his neck. He lowered his brow, arms flexed and out to his sides in a crucifixion pose, then snarled and rushed toward Sid.

  The chrome bar, twenty pounds with no weight on it, was in Sid’s hands before he realized he was reaching for it. He cocked it behind his head and bared his teeth. He discovered he’d been crying when he tasted the salty snot dripping over his upper lip. “You stay the fuck away from me!”

  Crow hesitated, but only for a second. Fists collided with pectoral muscle, again and again, as he marched forward. His massive thighs shook as he came, and though his mouth opened into a gaping smile, his eyes stayed hard, intense. “Hit me. Hit me as hard as you can.”

  Sid backed away and shook his head, squeezing the bar until his hands cramped up.

  “Hit me, motherfucker.”

  The steam rolled into the gym faster, heavier. The moans of the zombies grew in volume.

  Sid let his eyes roll toward the window behind Crow, and he nearly dropped the bar when he saw it. The slime seeped through the bubbling, melted glass and crept across the gym floor. Liquefying the rubber flooring on contact, hissing and sizzling.

  “Oh fuck. It’s…i-it’s coming inside.” Sid’s hands shook and his mouth hung open.

  Crow’s brow bunched up into a slab of sweaty skin, and he turned, growled like a pit bull with frothy jaws. “Time’s up. Hell is her
e to claim us. I’m ready. I’m ready to fuckin’—”

  The curling bar slammed into the back of Crow’s head, opened a gash that poured blood instantly. Crow stumbled, but not much. Turned and growled.

  Sid swung again, every muscle on fire.

  Crow threw up his forearm and let the metal collide with it. Vibrations ran the length of the bar and into Sid’s hands. He hit the guy hard, hard enough to break a fucking bone.

  But Crow didn’t even flinch. The flesh on his arm knotted up where the metal made impact, but he showed no signs of pain, and he wrapped his fingers around the bar and tore it free of Sid’s grip. Tossed it aside and thumped his knuckles against the sides of his own head as he burst forward.

  Sid spun on his heels and took off. He sprinted toward Tom’s office, didn’t dare look over his shoulder. He didn’t have to, he could hear Crow’s thunderous footsteps as he gave chase, grunting and snorting like some crazed bull.

  Sid screamed when clawed fingers raked at the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. They grabbed hold of the back collar of his shirt, but he didn’t let it slow him. The shirt ripped and there was a slight tug backward, but Sid pushed on, and the pressure released.

  He exploded into Tom’s office and slammed the door, locked it. Not a second later, Crow’s body hit it, nearly taking it off its hinges. Sid hopped behind the desk, put everything he had into pushing it across the room. The desk looked old, but it was solid. Heavy as fuck. His muscles ignited and he shrieked, pushing with every drop of strength he had left.

  Something hit the door and hit it hard. Sounded like a damn cannonball hit it. Wood splintered.

  “You’re just wastin’ time! You hear me? I’ll toss you to the demons and laugh while they rip your ass to pieces!” Crow cackled as he pummeled the door.

  Even behind all the pounding, the grunting and chuckling, the squeal of the desk’s legs sliding across the floor…there was the sizzle.

  Just as Sid finally got the desk across the room, out of breath and muscles ablaze, a fist burst through the door. Splinters flew in and peppered his face, scattering across the desk. Some protruded from Crow’s forearm and knuckles like porcupine quills. Crow pulled his hand back through and peered inside.