Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles

by Melissa Leo-Pahl

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  He shook his head of the cobwebs that had formed there. The sound was almost foreign to his ears. A sound that was purely beautiful nonetheless. Enticing the listener with its beat at the same time alluring them with the promise of the most pure orgasmic experience.

  His mouth was no longer desperate for hydration as his saliva glands went into over drive. Prepping his mouth and throat for what was to come. The intoxicating aroma pulled him from the direction of the building, redirecting him to the oncoming meal on wheels.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The pounding filled his ears, drowning out the sound of the sad excuse for an engine still coming in his direction. It was golf cart! A tiny, fucking golf cart! How in the hell was that thing still running? It should have run out of gas miles ago. It definitely wasn’t one of those all-terrain ones. No. It belonged to some locally owned Putt-Putt course. The logo becoming clearer the closer he got. It was painted with sky blue letters next to a dolphin carrying a golfing putter. The Golfin’ Dolphin. It was so out of place in this deserted city. An odd name for a business which was in the middle of a state, in the middle of the country. With no large bodies of water around for miles. Definitely not the stomping grounds for a dolphin.

  The screeching of those four tiny tires forced his attention back to the carts’ driver. A driver who would be the first person which still possessed a beating heart he has come across since the day he woke up in the morgue.

  The cart jerked to a stop five feet from him. Leaving just enough space to lunge for his throat when the time came. Mud incrusted shaggy blonde hair filled his vision as a set of emerald green eyes narrowed on him, assessing if he was a threat or not. The color of his skin was no longer pasty and gray thanks to the sun, it held a pinkish tint along with some warmth that seeped into the first few layers of skin. Deceiving anyone that would cross his path along the way to his throne.

  The blonde golf cart driver was draped in clothing fit for a Nascar driver. The poor bastard was still adorned with his endorsements from head to toe. He was sponsored by a franchised restaurant that used to be dominant in this now desolate land, its name gracing each jacket sleeve. The name of the best southern whiskey graced its back with its signature logo. Jack Daniels. A distant memory of a night out drinking with the boys and of the beautiful amber liquid burning his throat on the way down, made his mouth salivate once again.

  His hunger peaked as the scent of this unlucky bastards rotting flesh reached his nose. Its heartbeat was dwindling, the virus was taking its sweet time killing him. Leaving just a hint of untainted blood to dance across the capillaries of his skin. Making him the most mouthwatering morsel he would sink his teeth into. He would take his time with this one, leaving the delectable gray matter for dessert.

  ***

  He walked into the building that had beckoned him from the highway. Stale air greeted him as he moved passed the lobby and into the showroom floor. His eyes locked onto a beautiful relic parked in the center of the room. It called to him, begging to be touched.

  The tips of his fingers skimmed over the gas tank, stopping only to trace each of the letters embossed in silver. The name was legendary, and the only brand worthy of a king.

  The steel was cold to the touch, even for him. A set of keys dangled from its ignition, begging....no pleading to be turned. The shiny, black leather seat beckoned him to sit astride it. The man looked down at his attire. Clearly he was a disgrace to the personification of beauty parked in front of him. No, his bloodied rags just wouldn't do. With shame, his eyes lifted to the racks of clothing lining the bricked walls. T-shirts of every color hung along the top, the same logo faded into each one, creating a rainbow to choose from. Jeans placed beneath each one and to be topped off with a range of leather jackets. But his eyes stopped on the second most beautiful thing he could have come across. An entire section of boots. Brand. New. Fucking. Boots.

  Excitement unmatched by anything he has felt since he woke up, raced through his veins. Nothing could beat the feel the fresh, soft cotton against ones skin. Gripping the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head swiftly. Flicking the button undone on his pants, the zipper gave way and the pants fell to his feet as they could no longer hang onto his narrow hips. He quickly stepped out of them, discarding them like the garbage they were. He tugged a pair of jeans off the rack in his left hand and a shirt in the right. Their size was insignificant. He wasn't the beast of a man he used to be. No this body was leaner, but still menacing and he could work with that. But he needed to remove the stench clinging to his body along with the leftovers from his meal. Bottle after bottle of water that was illuminated behind a refrigerator glass door would do the trick.

  With his new threads on, he slipped fresh, clean, socks onto his raw feet. The cotton pulling on his popped blisters, snagging the skin. The pain was refreshing, signally he was still alive...in some way. The boots were heaven. The laces were just for show leaving only a zipper from the heel to the top. A perfect fit. It seemed most bikers went for the functionality of the shoe over its esthetic appearance.

  The leather of the jacket was calling to him. Just as the seat of the orange flamed Soft-tailed Harley sitting only a six feet away from him was. A skull emblazoned with a tilted crown, a diamond encrusted walking stick and red flames covered the entire back.

  How fitting?

  He was now ready. He lifted his leg over the bike, bringing himself to straddle the seat. The keys felt cold between his fingers, but that would soon pass. With a twist of wrist, the engine roared to life, breathing fire into the beast beneath him. A wicked smile emerged with a rev to the engine. The tank was full, the doors left open from his entrance into the showroom. It was time to leave.

  This king has his chariot, one that would announce his presence to his kingdom and beckon all of his subjects to follow him into battle.

  “We can’t stay here any longer.” Jace started.

  Daybreak came and started throwing light around. The sleeping arrangements switched around a bit, with the guys taking turns in the one tent and the girls in the other. Charlie knew that Ellie was going to be uncomfortable for a while so, she made the offer. The time for sustenance had come, and everyone was eager to figure out what breakfast was going to look like. Jace had set up the coffee again and had managed another pair of cups for Byron and Ellie. Charlie had found some crackers and tuna in cans, and an assortment of canned fruit. She had also found a box of various cutlery and a case of plain dishes. She opted for a safer blue colored plates despite the fact that red was her favorite color. It used to be her favorite color.

  “But why can’t we stay here?” Fayte asked.

  Charlie smiled at her new little charge.

  “Because eventually the food will run out here and we will be forced to leave anyway,” she answered.

  “That’s not the only reason.” Jace countered.

  “Oh?” Charlie asked.

  “Yeah. There’s got to be others out there. Good people. Not like that ratchet head.”

  The atmosphere around Ellie suddenly grew colder, smaller.

  “Sorry, Elle.”

  Ellie shrugged it off, and sipped on her coffee.

  “I’m not so sure there is anybody else left,” said Charlie.

  “You found us, didn’t you?”

  Charlie locked eyes with Jace. “Yeah. We did.” Jace was certain he caught a glint of a smile. He allowed it to get away. This time.

  She passed Fayte a napkin just as she shoved another tuna loaded cracker into her mouth.

  Her eyes passed over to Ellie and back to Jace. She quickly finished her breakfast and washed it down with a nice long draught on her coffee.

  She leaned over and whispered to Fayte. “Stay with Byron and Ellie for a bit, love. Me and Jace have to go search the back for stuff to take with us.” Fayte nodded from behind a silver juice pack. It was Luke-warm, but good enough for the little girl. She was satisfied.

  “
Come on Jace. We have work to do.”

  Jace gave Charlie an inquisitive look, grabbed his coffee cup and tailed behind her. He was clueless as to what she was planning. Yesterday had left quite the bitter taste in his mouth. He had sent a man to his death. Not killing him personally was beside the point, but he was, in effect the cause. Jace would have to live with that. He knew then that he would do anything to protect his sister, and the ones he loved.

  Charlie led him out one of the back exits. When the door opened and the sun poured in, Jace instantly threw his arm up to block the light. He had grown accustomed to the dimness of the store. It took him just a few moments for him to adjust. The back door opened up to a small concrete staircase surrounded by a steel railing. Charlie placed a nearby two-by-four in the door to prevent it from closing shut behind them. They both leaned over the rail and looked out over the parking lot. It was a mess of broken pallets, discarded boxes that had been looted, and various abandoned vehicles. Anyone looking at the pair standing at the top of the stair could easily have mistaken them for a couple. The only observers however were the scarce walkers that roamed the ditch lines and asphalt surrounding them. One zombie reached out, immobilized by a pile of broken bricks and cinder blocks. A car laid on its side nearby, its front windshield shattered outward. The cuts across the zombie’s face marked it as the car’s original driver.

  It’s time for ‘Boot Camp’.” Charlie said.

  “Boot camp?” Jace asked.

  Charlie smiled.

  “Boot camp. I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”

  Jace grunted. “The only shooting I know how to do is shooting up.” It was a joke, but she could not know it. The only drugs he had ever done was the Havoc pill and it was only that one time. Of course, it had only taken that one time.

  She walked to the side of him and slapped him hard several times on the back. “Well, you are just going to have to get over that.”

  “Ow.” He coughed out.

  Jace looked down at his hands. They had stopped shaking for the moment. He considered this for a few seconds. “I don’t know if I can.”

  She slumped down her shoulders and threw up one hand toward Jace.

  “You are just going to have to.” She pointed her long finger in his face and gave him her most serious look. “You used to shoot up to get high. Well, now you have to shoot to survive. It’s very simple.”

  “I don’t want to kill!” he screamed.

  “Don’t you get it? They are already dead!”

  Jace dropped his head into his hands.

  “I just don’t think I can do it.”

  “What about the creep from yesterday?”

  “That was different.”

  Charlie’s angry face dissolved into a frown, dropped to one knee, and motioned her head over her shoulder towards the store. Where an ever watchful Ellie and Fayte stood in the doorway, watching the two “adults” have their spat. “You know you can’t protect her with needles. You need this.”

  Jace pulled up out of his hands and faced her. He shook his head to her in an affirmative, and then eyed the gun held out in Charlie’s hand in contempt. He grabbed it reluctantly and turned it in his hands, looking it over. It was a semi-automatic Glock 17 she showed him earlier. Jet black and it was as light as a feather in his hands. He recognized it anyways from his past. Several of his dealers used to carry them, before the plague had carried them away.

  He had never actually carried one. She offered the clip in her other hand, flipping it in her palm and catching it. It landed flatly, as she caught it, showing off the shiny gold tinted 9mm rounds clutched inside. It was a long clip holding 33 rounds. She took the gun from him and instructed him quickly on which way the clip was to be inserted. She pushed it up gingerly, and it gave off a satisfying click. It was satisfying to her anyway. For him, it was the venomous sound of nails on a chalkboard. Fayte stuck her head out the door

  Charlie looked up and yelled to Ellie. “Take Fayte inside the store. She doesn’t need to see this right now.” Ellie nodded and complied, and pulled the little blond girl in tow.

  “So, why a Glock?” Jace asked, trying to postpone the inevitable. He knew he was just prolonging his innocence in this. Huh. I am not that innocent after all, I guess, he thought to himself.

  She answered him. “A Glock is light-weight and easy to carry.” She began, repeating one of her marine sharpshooter friend’s speeches. “Ammo is easy to find, affordable, and this baby rarely and I mean rarely ever misfires. It’s a gun that you can depend on. You can trust it with your life.” she finished.

  Charlie looked over her shoulder at the zombie trapped under the wall. She scanned it from its pale split face, to its shoulders and then to its calves and feet splayed out from beneath the debris. Its grunts and moans were dry and sputtering. It was obvious this one hadn’t had any flesh to grace its lips or blood to coat its throat in quite some time. Perhaps even weeks.

  Charlie nodded.

  “It’s time,” she spoke. She pulled him up from the tire he sat on and guided his hands up into the shooting position. Jace tried to palm the bottom of the clip to steady it, yet it extended too far from the bottom of the grip. He wrapped his hand around the clip clumsily. Charlie pulled his hand off the clip. “Shoot it one-handed” she offered and then stepped back behind him.

  His view, now not obscured, he pulled the weapon up to his line of sight, and then looked down at his target. The creature seemed to sense its own imminent demise. It renewed its struggles with rehabilitated energy, while Jace hesitated; the wall broke apart around it. It had been terribly wounded from the crashing down of the wall. It grabbed onto the hood of the car that had brought the wall down, pulled itself onto its shaky legs, and started sauntering like a drunk toward its food.

  Jace squeezed the trigger and let the bullet fly. It was surprisingly effortless and happened too fast for him to process it. The bullet struck the zombie in the foot, shattering it. It went in all too easy, like a finger pushing through wet paper. A small cloud of reddish spray puffed out of the exit hole as it struck, but only a little blood flowed from the wound. The crawler’s ankle caved in on itself and the monster was pitched forward hard onto its face.

  The gun dropped from Jace’s hands; they had started shaking again. He felt that they were seizing. All of the feeling had left his fingers. He tried to make fists with them; over and over again he failed. They were rusty vise-grips that he could not get to budge.

  Charlie looked down to the gun and then back at the zombie. The mutant’s arms must have been stronger than its legs, as it had begun pulling itself across the street at faster pace than it has on its own two feet. Unable to pull itself back up to a standing position, it began throwing elbow after elbow in front of itself, dragging its bleeding torso behind it toward the pair. The zombie’s thick metal belt buckle made contact with the street as it crawled. The slow, telltale scraping between the buckle and the asphalt marked the creature’s efforts to get to his next meal.

  Charlie shook her head. She ripped out the other Glock that she had strapped to her side. With a practiced hand, she pulled out a short clip from her belt, slipped it into her weapon, and quickly popped three quick burst into the incoming zombie’s skull. The scraping of its belt buckle across the asphalt abruptly halted.

  She popped out her cartridge and returned it to her belt as she walked back over to Jace. He had slumped against the wall, still studying his shaking hands. She put one hand on his shoulder and patted it gently.

  “It gets easier.” She offered.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jace replied.

  She turned and walked away from him into the store to check on how Fayte was getting along. She had hoped Ellie had took her far enough into the back to muffle the shots. She knew, however, they couldn’t hide the uglier side of this world from her forever. One day Fayte would have to go through her day of ‘Boot Camp’ too, just like Charlie had once done.

  Jace looked up a
nd let his eyes follow her stride into the store. She is a distraction all right, but I won’t tell her that. He sat there for a while thinking about her and what he could possibly learn from this girl.

  Maybe I should start paying attention. Maybe this chick might be able to teach me how to survive this hell-hole world we are in now.

  In that moment, he failed to make the connection with what had just happened. After she touched him, his hands had briefly stopped shaking.

  ***

  The tension inside the store passed through everyone’s molecules. It was a real tangible thing, like flies over road kill. No amount of swatting could make it disappear. Fayte felt it. She picked up on things like these rather quickly. In the measured silences that stewed between Ellie and her brother and Jace and Charlie, they were all strung tighter than a thin piano wire. Fayte decided a distraction was just what the doctor ordered.

  “Uncle Byron,” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I have an idea.” She smiled at him in that way that made him instantly begin to worry how he was going to be implicated in it.

  “What…?”

  “Follow me.”

  She bounded down to the end of the aisle and looked back waiting for Bryon to leave his perch. He sighed and as her honor-bound protector got up and gave chase. When she saw his pursuit, she rounded the corner and was gone.

  Charlie took notice.

  “Where is she going?”

  Byron turned around long enough to give a shrug and a quick head shake that he did not know. She looked to Jace. His curiosity was aroused as well. Almost any break in the boredom was welcome, as long as it did not involve the walkers. Charlie took off behind Byron. For reasons beyond him, Jace got up and followed that imaginary line that anchored him to her.

  “I hear them behind me. Quick! Push me.”

  “Okay.”

  The voices floated around the corner and the sound of plastic grating against the tiles echoed off the shelves. Charlie quickened her pace and when she took the turn, what greeted her instantly brought a smile to her face.