Parker could not manage a breath. Even then she did not realize that the breath she had exhaled before had been her last. She looked down as she felt all of the nerves in her chest go numb and slowly spread out from where the needle raped her. She felt the pain of a hundred thousand nerve endings each dying their own separate deaths.
The Zombie King stepped back and watched as it happened, mentally taking notes. Dark roadmaps appeared like cracks in glass spreading from her heart like wildfire across her breasts and over her shoulders. Up her neck.
As the color drained from her face, she spasmed. She felt as though she was breathing through plastic. It was as if someone had come up from behind and threw a zip lock bag over her head and zip-tied it around her skinny pale neck. She struggled and her eyes bulged against the onslaught of the virus was force-fed into her. Her eyes glazed over, she could have sworn she saw Death walk in, scythe and all. Instead of swinging the blade and reaping her soul, he was content to sit down, cross his legs and stare.
***
She awoke somewhat. An awful metallic taste filling her pallet and rolling over her tongue. Her eyes remained closed as she swallowed hard, without even understanding why. It was subtle at first. This strange sensation she felt over where she thought her nose should be.
She cracked her eyelids a bit. They had crusted over quickly and it took some effort to free them open again. Through the little slit she saw a hand releasing the pressure off of her nose. Her instinct to swallow was just a reaction to the vise her olfactory core had found itself in. She attempted a breath, but found she could not. Her lungs were empty and had already collapsed. The hand pulled away and a light took its place. She found herself wanting to react to the sudden brightness, but she could not. Her eyes too had given up the fight of the living. She barely recognized the shape moving before her. It was dark and un-giving, for it too had stopped breathing once upon a time.
Almost on a whim, she cocked her head, and listened out into the darkness before her. The faint tell-tale rhythm of a drum reached her newly heightened sense of hearing. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Her mouth was forced opened by two heavy fingers, each of them plundering something soft and wet into her waiting gullet. She could not recognize it by texture, but the flavor was overwhelming. It sickened and excited her all the same. Like a whiskey shot chased by cola. The synapses in her mind seems to start firing all at once, and she went lucid and limp, a newborn baby drunken off her mother’s milk. The fog seemed to clear a bit, her vision returning from the black.
The fog dissipated and the visage of that murderous Zombie King took its place!
He downed the light he had been shining in her eyes. He looked very satisfied at the results of his little test. The murderer had watched her die, watched her take her very last sips of breath. Now would be the true litmus test of his intentions.
Parker’s lips began too tremble, not in fear, but in tremens. She had tasted of the Zombie King’s blood but the hard way. That was enough to kill, her and reanimate her. It was her mind that he wanted. Not all of it, just enough for her to respond to his commands. His demands.
The ZK chuckled. “You feel that yet?”
Indeed she was ‘feeling’ something. Although she had never partaken in the very drug she used to peddle, she knew instantly what this was. Her lips grew hard in an almost instant pout of anger.
“Havoc,” she sounded out slowly. Her voice was hoarse, sliced across shards of glass.
He nodded. “You know what this means, my lovely Parker?” He reached up and grabbed her by her chin, and stroked it lovingly.
Parker’s head began to swim, the deep longing and hunger of the addiction was already taking root. Her hands began to shake. He ceremoniously produced a small handcuff key and with a practiced hand, slipped her restraints off. She lifted her hands in the air and stared hard through the fog that was already coalescing in her mind. Despite the release, she still felt the weight of the chains holding her down. The need for Havoc would be her binders now.
The Zombie King smiled as if this was what he had expected all along. He had broken her in just about every way a woman could be broken and that made her his. He stepped away, leaning over to attend to other matters on his mind. Parker looked up.
His departure left a hole in her vision. Something laid there, and had been lying there the whole time, but his body had obscured it. She leaned in close on her hands and knees. This effort was something beyond what the old Parker would do. However, Undead Parker was a new animal. Animals would do what animals do. She crawled slowly, one hand in front of the other, scraping the floor as she went. The figure before her sharpened into focus enough for recognition.
It was girl, or what had once been a girl. Her face was obscured as it was dropped down to her chest. The clothes it wore, however, were quite familiar. It was the same clothes Phoenix wore when she had seen her last. That seemed so long ago now. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Maybe weeks? Parker had truly lost all sense of time. Minutes felt like years and it was the years that felt much like water, slipping away through her fingertips.
The clothes were not the girl’s dominant feature. As Parker raised her eyes in horror, she saw that the top of her head had been sliced away, and nothing remained inside. Her realization of one plus one in her own head was short lived as the delirium of the drug’s effect on her own brain had already come around a full three hundred and sixty degrees.
She curled up into a tight ball on her side and sobbed for reasons that she could not remember why, rocking herself into unconsciousness at her dead twins’ feet.
The Zombie King leaned heavy on his cane. He rolled his fingers open and closed flashing the silvery skull that adorned the top of it. He stood well in between feedings now, so his aching was not nearly at painfully synaptic, excruciating, as it would have been if he had gorged himself on brain and allowed himself to go full-on human. He grimaced at the dull ache in his legs. He felt arthritic and old. The ZK was stiff as a board, but still capable of grinding his way forward, with the help of is little gothic-looking vice. The idea that has risen in his demonic head had almost come to fruition. His need, no, desire for controlling every around him had boiled up to the rim, and his pressure cooking brain needed a release. He halted his steps, and despite the pain grimaced as he came to halt. He stood there is silence, allowing his mind to revel in its twisted thoughts. His eyes lost any kind of rein, rolling this way and that, often separate and in opposite directions. He knew he would have to feed soon to avoid losing himself completely once again to the taint within him.
They had just finished a little trip, only a few miles north. He had set up shop in an old rock quarry Parker broke the muteness of the moment, trying to boost her king’s mood.
“My king,” she whispered. It sounded forced and contorted and she knew it. The relationship was nothing more than parasitic at best and they both knew it. Her desperate need was the tether that bound them together and she would do anything for her king to fulfill that need.
She came up behind him where he sat and pulled her arms around his neck clasping them in her cold embrace. He patted her hands lovingly and reached up and popped another small morsel of gray matter into her waiting mouth. She savored it like heroin addict savors the initial pain of the needle, and sweet promises kept.
She looked over her shoulder to the corral he had built. In this pen, stood roughly 50 or so Walkers, all of them moaning out their cry of hunger. They reached over the bars, hands pumping open and closed, like little toddlers begging for food.
“Are you sure that this will be enough?” She immediately regretted asking her questions. Her king was not one for idle questions. Usually they angered him, and his response that of an owners to his untrained dog. He would slap her harshly, belittle her, and she would grow quiet. She would whimper, minutes later, begging his forgiveness. He would draw her head to his lap, and stoke her hair like a lap dog. Parker would strive to do better on her runs
after each incident. The undead master had kept sending her outside into the city, searching for stray walkers. She would push and direct them easier enough back to his home base, where he his walking stick to push them harshly into the corral. She of course had no fear of being attacked as she was one of them. The undead tended not to hunger for their own. The Zombie King stood as the lone exception. It was the only one that matters. He was going to be Dictator for Life. Well, Un-life.
This time, however, he felt deigned to answer her.
“Yes, my dear. I believe this should be plenty enough. You have done well. But now I need you to rest up. You have a big role to play in the morning.”
“A role?”
The ZK’s face took the pallor of one who was bored with answering questions.
“Yes. My love. I need you to send our ‘friends’ across the way a message.” He pulled out some paper and a pen and started jotting down a letter.
“Anything for you.” Her tone was jittery. Despite what she said, all he heard was ‘Anything for Havoc.’
“You cannot be seen, my love. This is very, very important.” His mind started to cloud. His writing became frantic, desperate even. He reached the end, signing with a flourish.
Your Zombie King.
He reached into his pocket and popped a soft morsel of something into his mouth, squashing it with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. In moments, he was relaxed again. Undead Parker eyeballed her masters’ fingers, making sounds like a hungry baby. He raised them to her mouth and she suckled the juices off of them. Her eyes grew a bit clearer once more as the drug took effect.
She smiled as an idea came up from the recesses of her jumpstarted brain.
“I think I know just how to deliver it,” she said.
The next morning she took the proffered note from her master, who had taped it all up on all sides. Clearly, he did not want anyone but its intended recipient to read it. It was of no matter, she knew the rewards of completing each and every one of her master’s tasks, and she would do so implicitly. She took a length of heavy chain with her, threw it around her like she was sporting a scarf. She tried to give a cute look at her king over her shoulder.
“Be back home soon, my love.” She stood and waited.
Patient Zero refused to look up from his work. His attention was bent on sharpening a set of tools he had been using the night before. She had no clue as to what he had been working on. He was ever the mad scientist he made himself out to be. She had not been allowed to participate in his other ‘experiments’. She only knew that they involved the walkers in some form or fashion, and that it was her job to keep them in high supply.
“Deliver the message. Don’t get seen. The plan will not work otherwise.” He continue driving the blade over the tungsten sharpeners, occasionally looking down its length to make sure it was even on both sides.
“Yeah.”
She turned to leave only to have his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. She turned to look and he was leering coldly.
“Remember. You fail at this, there will be no more Havoc love from me.” He released her, and even that stung to her already numbed state. She nodded.
Yes sir, her eyes said. She picked up her little backpack and slung it on over one arm and made to leave.
She stepped out from under the shelter, climbed on the back of his Harley, and took off into the night. She drove for over an hour retracing the directions her master had given her. She was thankful, that motorcycles were fairly good on gas, better than your average auto. When she knew she was minutes away, she slowed to a halt and parked the bike in an alleyway. From here she would have to walk. Her message was definitely going to get their attention, but first she needed to get a hold of her delivery method. The rebel in her giggled a bit. If she was not careful, her delivery might just end up botching the whole thing and taking a few of them out with her.
She stopped as the cold night air ran over her shoulders and through her hair. She began struggling with a memory she had. Faces that she barely knew danced before her, but they had no names. Being dragged down to undead level had put quite the damper on that. She was sure however that the people she was trying to lead to her King were people she once knew. She did not feel any attachments to them, a moot point as she remembered no other connections but the addiction she had for her King and his undead ways. She shook the memories away. Only the needs of her King mattered now. Besides, it was time for her to have a little fun.
Fuck the needs of the rest.
It was not long before she found what she had been looking for. A quiet walker, sitting down against the brick wall outside of a bank, fairly close to where she was told the group was staying.
Ahh, there’s mah bitch, she thought.
Then came the need for another mode of transportation. Her delivery system. She spotted a small Honda Civic in the parking lot. Perfect for her needs. Too bad this was only going to be a one-way trip.
She popped open the car door easy enough, but keys were absent. The visor hiding spot yielded her nada. She was going to have to do this the hard way. The panel underneath popped out expertly. She gripped a set of wires and cut the two she want with expert ease with wire cutters she had packed in her bag. This was not her first hot-wire academy. She had practiced in an Enterprise car lot until she got her skills up to snuff. Never know when that kind of knowledge will come in handy. Like now.
The struck her chosen wires and the car roared to life. She finished crimping them together and made her way back to her zombie of choice.
She fished out a length of rope.
Whereas her scent was not enough to make the walker even budge, the sound of the car pulling up was enough to warrant an investigation at the very least. He had pushed himself up off the wall and was making his way slowly toward the vehicle. He stopped at the bumper and laid his rotting head on its side against the hood. His fingers began scratching against the paint, trying to force their way, slowly but with vigilance into what he hoped was a stirring bloody meal.
Parker got out of the car and made her way to the zombie lying against the steel. She shook her head sadly and grabbed it by it collar and jerked him hard enough to to spin his body around. Her undead strength kicked in as she gripped him by the chest and crotch. With power that would have impressed even Hercules, she slammed him up on the upper hood and against the windshield.
She tied him down quickly, holding him down with one hand. Her strength clearly outmatched his. It was like a mother holding a baby from rolling off of a couch. Minimal effort despite the fact that the walker outweighed her two to one. He was hitched up pretty good. This walker was walking nowhere. He flailed against his restraints and moaned piteously, but he was pinned down too well.
“Don’t worry asshole. I got you a ride.”
***
They boys had returned to the group empty-handed and dejected. Charlie was shocked to hear the results of their chase. This maniac had not just set one road block, but four. There had only been the intentional space left to allow a motorcycle to pass. By the time the boys had managed moving enough cars to get their truck through, there were no signs of where the two bikes had gone. As nightfall was rapidly approaching, the boys regretfully had to give up their search.
The night fell quiet and the boys had calmed down from their adrenaline high, but only to replace it with the lows of failure. Callen had been hit especially the hardest with his growing feelings for Phoenix. He passed the time scratching marks into the tile floor with his buck knife.
Fayte had a hard time digesting this new atmosphere and decided she needed something to take her mind of the gloom and doom. The little girl had managed to con Charlie into a game of chess, but that was short lived. Charlie was more of a spades gal herself, and the little girl was all too happy to learn how to play a game she had not played before. She picked up the rules quickly enough. She even managed to make the game a little more interesting by adding wagers of stale peanuts to the mix.
Charlie had to open several packs as the genius kept cleaning her out and eating all of her winnings.
Charlie was grateful for the distraction. The disappearance of the twin girls weighed heavily on her heart. She just hoped that they were alright. She knew that Parker was not all that keen on staying with them. In many ways, she was even more of a loner than Charlie had been, even in the company of her own sister. She was upset that her JC Boys felt they had to go chasing after them. She would never admit it to them, but she had missed their quirky presence while they were gone.
She was looking forward to spending some quiet moments with Jace as soon as Fayte fell out. That night had been a bit of a struggle. All of them were high strung for most of the day since the boys left. She was giddy, but kept it to herself. It was nice to have something to look forward to. His touch, only his slightest touch recharged her soul and left her feeling that, at the very least, there was still some good in this world.
As is with all things in the apocalypse, peace teetered on the head of a pin, and any shift one way or another, brought the whole wall crashing down. Literally.
The sound of shattering glass imploding inward echoed through the store and caused both Charlie and Fayte to jump with a start. They screamed and kicked backwards with their feet against their rear ends to the floor as they witnessed a car breaking through the makeshift barrier of shopping carts. Only the end cap stopped the vehicle from rolling straight through and over the both of them.
Jace and Byron ran from around the corner, dropping backpacks full of supplies from off of their shoulders.
“Are you too alright?” Jace screamed. His eyes trained on Charlie who had already whipped out both of her Glocks and had them pointed at the offending Honda Civic. She was nearly hyperventilating, not helped by the fact that Fayte had jumped and clung around her neck.
Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles Page 28