Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles

by Melissa Leo-Pahl

  “She’s a genius,” finished Byron.

  “You knew?” asked Jace.

  “She wanted me to keep it a secret. She was afraid of what you guys might think. What you might do.”

  “A genius huh? So, genius. Tell me, what is: eight thousand five hundred and twenty three times four thousand two hundred and eighty seven.” Callen had been typing the numbers into the calculator on his tablet. Even as he was reaching for the equals’ button, Fayte began to rattle off numbers.

  “Thirty six million, five hundred and thirty-eight thousand, one hundred and one,” she said simply. He paused before hitting the final key. He knew even before doing so, that this was not something she would be lying about. Still, he wanted his mounting curiosity satisfied. Fayte was correct to the last digit. He could only nod his head to the rest of the group.

  “At least make it challenging for me. Think about it guys. How else could a seven year old survive on her own when Armageddon came?”

  Rhyce just shook his head. He knew that he was not the smartest cookie on the planet and what he lacked in brains he made up for in brawn. His father would always chastise him. He would often recite what he thought to be the most insulting of song lyrics which he later accepted as axiom. If you are going to be dumb, you have to be tough. Now he was face to face with a girl who probably was that smartest cookie. He was instantly unsure of his place in the world. As were the others. Self-doubt worn on his face as he slumped his shoulders forward.

  Fayte ran up to Rhyce and laid a big hug on him. “Don’t worry Uncle Rhyce.” Her voice was soothing and un-patronizing. “This is a good thing.”

  She turned to Charlie. “Have you ever stopped to consider WHY its eating brains? Just brains?”

  She shook her head no. Fayte continued.

  “Whatever chemical or virus caused this thing is concentrated in the brain. Eating the brain brings him back to normal. Well, somewhat normal. I think our Zombie King was once a full-fledged walker just like the others. Difference is, he somehow manage to get a hold of some grey matter. That was his game changer. Whatever is in the zombie brains keeps bringing him back.”

  Everyone in the group shared the same look of discomfort and disgust. Tren shifted nauseously in his seat. Seeing it happen all over again in his head was bringing him to the point of retching. They had all seen their fair share of gruesome since the Zompoc began, but this was next level and they had not been adequately prepared.

  Now that Fayte had their attention, it was time.

  “There are things we all need to do. Things we need to collect. Plans we need to discuss. This is only going to work if ALL of us are involved.”

  She ran away and came back with a large poster board and unopened packs of highlighters and various markers and pens. She grabbed some boxes and had Byron set a loose shelf across it to finish the top of her makeshift battle plan desk. She went to the paper, her handwriting surely that of an old, accomplished soul. She organized lists, drew mini maps, and drew color coded stick figures that represented each of them. Once they were all aware of what color belonged to who, she started drawing various lines to show movement, detailing possible positions for where the Zombie King would most likely be. There was enough detail in the plan that everyone had a good grasp of the situation in their minds eye. She knew in his heart the King was a coward, and he would be using his pawn or pawns to do his dirty work for him. She also knew, he would step in only when he felt the battle was won.

  “What’s with the Roman candles?” asked Callen.

  Fayte smiled. “Those…are for me. I have this idea for a backpack launching system that I have always wanted to try. The zombies are attracted to noise and light, so I think these will make a perfect distraction. Plus I might even be able to take a couple of them out with a few lucky hits.”

  “Badass,” said Tren.

  “I think we can manage that. I know where we can find some. We passed a fireworks store on the way back. Fashioning the backpack shouldn’t be too rough of work either,” said Cross.

  Charlie frowned. “I don’t like this. You being in the middle of this.”

  Fayte washed away any of the little girl she had resting in her face.

  “This is the only way Charlie. We all have to fight. Even Jace. Even Byron.”

  Bryon looked up with a start.

  “Tell them Bryon. I told them mine.”

  He breathed heavy.

  “I…hear voices. I am…kinda schizophrenic.”

  “What?” said Jace.

  “Tell them the other part,” pressed Fayte.

  He almost glared at her. He had not realized that she was even aware of the other part. This girl…

  “One of those voices is stronger than the rest. And he is not very nice. The pills I take stop them from taking over.”

  “And we going to just give this guy a gun? That does not sound very smart,” said Ellie. She was understandably nervous.

  “No,” said Fayte. She pointed down to the list she had written. Towards the bottom were a list of blunt weapons. Baseball bat. Cricket paddle. Hockey Stick.

  Bryon read this and smiled. “Yeah. Carlos doesn’t like guns. He likes to hit.”

  “Blunt force trauma.” Rhyce shook his head appreciatively. “I can dig it.”

  “Wait a minute. Did you say Carlos? Who the fuck is Carlos?” Jace felt like he was losing his foothold in the conversation.

  Byron looked back over to Jace and smiled. “Yup. Carlos. That is what he wants to be called. Carlos.”

  Jace shook his head and face-palmed. He gave up.

  “Ellie can fall back with one of the boys’ sniper rifles. She can cover us and lay them out if we get in a bind.”

  “Wait! How did you know we had a sniper rifle?” asked Tren.

  Fayte ignored him with a wave of her hand. There was no need to lay all of her cards down on the table. She knew everything she needed to know about them and that was just going to have to be enough. She was more concerned with focusing her attention to Ellie’s reaction. Ellie had divulged to Fayte in a private conversation that she had wished she could have taken her attacker out herself. She was still so full of anger. Now it was Fayte giving her the chance to give that anger an outlet. Ellie nodded.

  “Just show me how to work it. I’ll put the bullet where it needs to go.”

  Jace could scarcely believe the words coming out of his sister’s mouth. He did not dare question it. Her brother could see the anger burning her eyes. He realized that anger might just be the fuel they all need to get through this alive.

  “Lastly we are going to need that protection. Boys. Do you think we can all get some of that duct tape armor? I think zip-up coats might be a great canvas for you guys to work with.

  “Yeah. I think it might be best if we all each work on our own. It will be faster that way. I can show you all how to do it so that there is no way for any of them rotter’s to be able to bite their way through.” Tren added, “We can go for a run and collect some more real quick. We are pretty low right here.

  “Go and hurry back. We don’t know how bad it can be getting out there,” said Fayte.

  The hours passed. Preparations were made. They took some time for rest before loading everything up. They would make camp just a quarter click from where the ZK said he would meet them. There they would caffeinate and don their battle attire.

  The battle line had been drawn. To finish this, they would be forced to cross those lines first.

  They found that there was a makeshift office just at the entrance to the mining operation. Tren made quick work of the door, quiet like a mouse. All four boys slipped in for a quick cursor search for anything useful. It was Rhyce that appeared first, intense and excited for the spoils that he had discovered inside.

  “Dynamite!” He could scarily contain his excitement in his whisper.

  Charlie nodded. “That is going to make a hell of a plan B if things go south.”

  The boys all looked disappoin
ted. Cross spoke for all of them.

  “Plan B? Who said anything about a plan B?” He gave a coy smile and the trio behind him giggled and high-fived each other.

  “Boys,” she sighed and shook her head.

  They decided to make camp there. They were going to need to be well rested for what was coming their way tomorrow. The unforeseen horrors laid in wait, poised for their entry in the quarry. Tren drew straws amongst the boys for first, second, third and fourth watch, but they all knew they would be taking turns waking up in the middle of the night anyway.

  Night came in, stealing the day, bringing with it all the nervousness thats comes for soldiers waiting for light to do battle.

  ***

  The sun finally pierced upward above the vanishing point and bathed the rock quarry in a cleansing light. The steam from the morning fog burnt away, revealing the last bits of the blasted stone that remained uncollected when the rock miners had abandoned this place.

  We start at day break. The words echoed in Charlie’s head. They kept replaying repeatedly in a fevered pitch. It was giving her a migraine. The stress of the plan had kept her up most of the night. Despite this, she had tried to lay with her Jace’s arms around her. He ended up rolling over and laying on one of her arms. When she did wake and had pulled herself from underneath of him, the circulation in it had been cut off and it had gone completely numb. It flopped about unresponsively, uselessly. It felt dead. For a long five minutes as she gained consciousness, she fell into a panic rubbing the muscles in her arm. She started to sob, in her half-awake stupor, thinking that she must have finally fallen ill with the zombie virus that had taken the entire world away from her. Yes. For sure it had started to take over her immune system, starting its rampage with her right arm and was moving slowly to her unnerved brain. That is, until the pins and needles came, reassuring her that she was not becoming one of the walking dead. Without a doubt, she was still alive and unbidden with the sickness. She ground her forehead into one of the walls until the pain subsided.

  Being alive hurts.

  Tren and Callen had manufactured a fire and somehow concocted a way to brew coffee into a huge can over it. Geniuses. They had taken some sticks and woven them into a filter holder. Held up by two forked sticks, they were able to pour the boiling water over the filter into another can that was suspended over the fire. It wasn’t Mr. Coffee, but it worked and the brew smelled inviting.

  Charlie took hers black as they all did, except for Rhyce who had managed to score a few drops of milk from the goat before gagging and giving up on it. The coffee was strong. The brew was strong enough to wipe away the sharp edges of sleeplessness. Restless, still needed a pick-me-up and a renewed sense of focus. It was just as well. Like soldiers rising from foxholes during a break in the siege, they materialized one by one from their tents. Charlie downed her first cup fast and poured herself another. She wanted her eyes wide open to witness this self-proclaimed Zombie King meet his end.

  It wasn’t hard tracking the demon-man down. His directions were clear enough, despite the blood on the note.

  Charlie fed everyone with her usual style and flair, at least as much as one could afford in the zombie apocalypse. They ate light and quickly worked to ensure each other had donned their special protective gear. Charlie was concerned. Even though their make-shift armor would probably serve well against the regular walkers, she did not believe it would work as well against the one zombie that had a functioning cerebral cortex. They were still going to have to tread carefully.

  She zipped up her little Fayte and helped her with her newly repurposed backpack. Roman candles stuck out in all direction. Fayte made a quick practice grab, pulling one candle out like a sword. She shook her head satisfied. She placed her basket over her head and placed Penny in her perch. Cross walked over and with his last remnants of duct tape, secured a flip lighter between the stuffed animals hands. Fayte looked at him and smiled.

  “Everybody fights,” he echoed to her.

  They broke camp and did a quick run through of the basic plan again. Everyone had a good general idea of the part they each would play. The boys voted Tren to be the one to scout on ahead to see what was between them and the king. He attempted to be as quiet as he could, sticking to the shadows and lying low when he approached the hill looking over the pit.

  And what pit it was.

  The hill careened down a steep slope, flowing in the rock quarry proper. It was deep enough to where an improper fall was likely to keep you from walking any kind of normal for an indeterminate length of time. One good tumble could put you out of the game, and Tren thought that it would be wise to make a note of that. The pit was dug out in an area style. In fact, Tren would have been surprised if someone else had not come up with the idea of putting on a concert here.

  The pit itself was unassuming enough. What was in and around it were matter of a completely different color. Several cages, three in fact, were place at varying points of the quarry. The cages themselves were out of place, true, but what they were holding back something far more sinister.

  Walkers. Twenty to thirty of them in each cage by his estimate. They were shoved in their own personal menageries like birds, only piled one on top of the other. Back to back, front to front. Most were so close, their heads were press up and over another shoulder. It was one big undead group hug.

  Tren trained his binocular to the cage doors. Each of them had a measure of chain or rope attached to a pin just out of reach of any of the walkers hands. He followed the links back and up the back wall of the hill. Perched at the apex of the pit was a seat. It was a pile of bones fashioned into a throne, and holding the ropes like reins to sleigh, sat the now infamous Zombie King.

  In this he looked especially cruel. His eyes followed the path along where Tren was spying, all the way up into his own binoculars. He shivered, and moved his 'binos' along either side to hunt for any sign of the Phoenix's sister. On the Zombie Kings right was a blonde woman on her knees, her head dropped to her chest. Her hands were bound tight behind her back.

  Parker.

  This was more than enough information to feed to Fayte to help amend her plan, if she so suited. From what he had observed however, Fayte's intuition appeared to be almost one hundred percent right on. Except of course that Parker was indeed this fiends hostage. He slinked away back to the group and quickly passed on all of the information to their ranks.

  “There could be sixty in total,” he finished. Fayte nodded and rubbed her chin.

  “We still have the advantage.” She looked to Ellie and Jace. “You guys are still going to provide cover fire and work out thinning out their ranks. “Byron?” she called out to him.

  Bryon had been sitting off to the side, alone with his thoughts. He sat, criss-cross apple sauce with his hands on his knees and his eyes closed. His head was bowed and his mouth was whispering in quick darting movements. The man of many voices appeared to be talking to himself and two others. Some of the conversation sounded a bit heated, albeit, under his breath. His eyes struck open at the sound of his name.

  “Yes?” he replied.

  “How goes it?” asked Fayte.

  Byron shook his ahead as if he had just completed signing a peace treaty. “Carlos has agreed to try. He does not know if it will work. We haven't tried anything like this before. But if I can try and let go, he will try and take over. Oh. He also says he would love to smash some zombie faces in. So, there's that.”

  “Well, it seems there are gonna be plenty for all of us,” said Cross.

  “Yeah, I don't know how I am going to track this one in the book. There is going to be a lot going on,” said Callen.

  Together they grabbed their gear, armed to the gills, and marched toward their common fate.

  The Zombie King stood up out of his throne of bones and started clapping hard and loud, in a mocking applause. He kept his firm grip on the ropes to each of his three cages. His arms spread open in welcome although it was more of his inten
tion to bring attention to the three battalions of undead he had at the ready.

  “Look who finally decided to join my little party.”

  He gave a practiced glance over to Undead Parker, who on cue began to struggle again with the binds that held her. Charlie walked forward and center, intent on keeping the attention on her until the time was right. Jace and Ellie crept up on the left and right and took their time stealthily moving into their assigned positions.

  Fayte brought up the center rear. She walked forward and Charlie allowed her to pass her, but only just. She wanted to keep her charge nearby. This was in contrast to Fayte's plans. She knew that eventually Fayte would make the call, and Charlie was going to have to charge in and take down the Zombie King herself. It was the only way to capture the kings captured queen.

  The little girl had understood from the very beginning her place in this game. She was not a piece to be played. She was the hand that moved the pieces. She looked at the pit as her game board. She gave a quick glance to the pieces she had placed and gave a smile of satisfaction.

  The King was not amused.

  “You are certainly most irresponsible with the one child you have. He voice echoes deep across the chasm. “Don't you even care if she gets hurt, my lovely Charlie?” He chuckled evilly. “Don't you care that I am going to eat her?” He mirrored the belly laugh that the other cracked voice in his head had just completed.

  It was Fayte who popped off before Charlie could even reply.

  “No! This is my game! My rules! I don't like the way you play! So, you will address me! I'm your opponent, now!” It was at this she gave pause, allowing for all of that to sink in. The Zombie King looked taken aback for a moment. It was short-winded. A bemused look grew on his face and he began to laugh hard and loud all over again. She drew a long breath and pulled one roman candle out of her pack. She looked across the chasm once last time, made a last second calculation.