COLD FAITH AND ZOMBIES

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  She looked down at the six-shooter sitting next to her on the seat and didn’t argue.

  “And a mall!” Sophia said. “I need some new shoes.”

  Wendy laughed. “I’m starting to like this girl more already.”

  Dan snorted. “And get bum-rushed by a bunch of teenage ZIPs with bad acne and an attitude to match? No thanks.”

  Their laughter faded into a gloomy lull.

  Paul felt guilty for hardly thinking about Matt, Mike and Carla today, or his mom for that matter, but that’s what he had forced himself to do. For now, he would learn from their mistakes and then leave them in the past. And so far, outside of the occasional mental lapse, it was working.

  “What the heck is this guy doing?” Sophia asked, sitting up straighter in the backseat.

  “I don’t know,” Dan said, slowing down and squinting at a man dragging a giant stuffed bear down the left hand side of the road up ahead.

  “What’d he just come from Six Flags or something?” Paul said, staring at the tattered brown bear.

  “Never a dull moment,” Dan mumbled.

  “Dan, what are you doing?” Sophia asked gravely, realizing Dan was pulling up alongside the guy, who wasn’t a guy anymore at all.

  Dan rolled his window down and stopped the patrol car next to him. “Excuse me, sir.”

  The thing stopped limping and slowly turned its rotting face towards the car.

  Wendy inhaled sharply when she saw his nose was gone.

  “You dropped something back there,” Dan said, pointing behind the thing.

  It didn’t look to where Dan was pointing. Instead, the oversized teddy bear slipped out of the stiff’s grasp as it began shambling towards the car.

  “Dan!” Sophia screamed.

  Wendy’s eyes bulged. “What is going on?” she said, fumbling for her pistol.

  Dan slowly gave the car some gas. “Right back there,” he said, pointing again and flooring it just before the decomposing corpse reached the car.

  They all turned and watched the thing stand there in the dust watching them. Leisurely, it shuffled back to the bear, picked it up off the roadside and continued on its way.

  “Wow,” Paul said slowly.

  Wendy flipped back around to the front of the car with a horrified face. “What is your problem?”

  Paul and Dan looked at each other and started cracking up.

  “Oh yeah, real funny!” Wendy said.

  “Got him!” Dan said.

  “No, you didn’t,” Paul said. “He didn’t even turn around to look where you pointed!”

  Wendy’s mouth hung open.

  “It’s a stupid game they used to play in high school,” Sophia told her, shaking her head.

  “It’s called The Get Game,” Dan said.

  Wendy’s stared at him in the rearview mirror with a confused look.

  “Whoever can get someone to turn around and search for something they never dropped for the longest amount of time wins,” Sophia explained.

  Wendy’s jaw dropped even further.

  Sophia laughed. “I know, it’s stupid.”

  “One time, I had two little old ladies looking for something they never dropped in the grass for at least twenty minutes!” Dan said.

  “More like five,” Paul corrected.

  “Whatever.”

  They squeezed out a few more chuckles and grew quiet.

  “What?” Wendy gasped.

  “Yeah, they’re not all there,” Sophia said. “You sure you don’t want us to take you back to the bar?”

  “The key is to have a convincing point,” Paul said, displaying a solid pointing motion.

  “And make sure you say sir and mam,” Dan added.

  “Your tone has to be pleasant,” Paul said.

  “And don’t waste time on people with headphones,” Dan continued.

  “And never try to get someone anywhere near a stop sign,” Paul said.

  Dan laughed. “Yeah, one time we had to run a red light so some big meat head dude didn’t kill us.”

  Wendy finally laughed. “That is so mean!”

  “Hey, he was the one jogging with his shirt off. He had it coming,” Paul said.

  Dan shook his head. “Who does that anyway?”

  Paul snorted. “Maybe on the beach, but not around the neighborhood.”

  “Not around the children,” Dan huffed.

  Paul turned to Wendy. “It’s perverse is what it is!”

  “I don’t need to see those handcrafted abs!” Dan said.

  “It should be illegal!” Paul said.

  “Alright, we get it!” Sophia said, shaking her head.

  “And did the little old ladies have their shirts off too?” Wendy asked.

  “No, they were just minding their own business,” Dan said dully.

  The road hummed beneath them as they turned their attention back out the windows, dreadfully wondering what could possibly come next.

  “But did you see that guy’s nose?” Dan asked, wrinkling his own nose. “Suddenly, I’m not so hungry anymore.”

  Siphoning gas from the abandoned Ford Expedition was a breeze. Finding it parked in the parking lot of a small town gun shop was a miracle. Dan and Paul returned the siphon-kit to the trunk and got back in the car. Dan promptly locked the doors.

  “Alright, here’s the plan,” Paul said. “We stay together, get in, get the guns and get out.”

  “Ooh, brilliant plan,” Wendy said, unimpressed. “Did you think that up all by yourself?”

  “You know what?”

  “Paul,” Sophia said in a low voice, cutting him off.

  “What kind of gun should we get her?” Dan asked.

  “I want one like Sophia’s!”

  “Something small like that would be good,” Paul agreed.

  “No, I mean pink. It’s so cute!”

  “Thanks,” Sophia said, blushing like Wendy just complimented her on her eyes.

  Paul turned back around and pointed. “Pull right up to the front doors.”

  Dan drove up and noticed one of the glass doors was already broken. “Hope there’s something left.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Paul said, opening his door and getting out with the shotgun. “How’s your bad feeling barometer?” he asked Sophia, scanning the area.

  “I think we’ll be fine,” she said, with a contradicting expression.

  “Are we going to get something to eat after this?” Wendy asked, slamming her door shut.

  Paul frowned at her. “Why don’t you slam that door a little harder and maybe someone will come and make us lunch.”

  “Make us their lunch,” Dan grunted, firmly gripping his twelve-gauge and following the others.

  The sunlight sparkled on the jagged shards of glass poking out around the edge of the door like a piranha’s mouth. Paul stepped through first, sniffing the air as he went. It hadn’t taken them long to figure out the walking dead smelled like rotten eggs.

  “I don’t smell anything,” he whispered back. “Stay together.”

  They crept towards a glass case against on the other side of the ransacked room, broken glass crunching beneath their boots along the way. It was free of people and most of the guns as well. Along with three .22 caliber rifles, there were two black Smith & Wesson nine-millimeters and some loose boxes of ammo lying around. The handguns wouldn’t do much if you weren’t nailing head shots, but they were easy to handle, which was perfect for Wendy. Plus, they held more than twice the number of rounds her pistol did. She would need the lessons they never got to give Carla.

  “Do they have any pink ones?” Wendy whispered, with large eyes.

  “Do you see any pink ones?” Paul asked, snagging some ammo.

  Wendy looked around. “No.”

  Paul grabbed the two nines and kept moving.

  Dan took the last two nylon holsters with Velcro straps and they slipped back out into the sun-splashed parking lot.

  “Man, that was easy!” Dan
said, opening his car door.

  Paul made Wendy learn how to load and unload her new gun right there in the car before they went any further. Sophia walked her through it, step by step, in the back seat. Wendy fumbled the bullets into the clip until it was full, racked a load, and ejected the clip.

  “Like that?”

  “Perfect! Then you just slap in a new clip.”

  She practiced again and again. “I think I got it!”

  “Now hop out and shoot some of those cars over there,” Paul said, nodding towards a blue Honda Accord and a beige Volkswagen Beetle.

  Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

  “Make sure the safety is off and go for it,” he said, knowing she would need to know what to expect with the gun’s kicking power. “But be quick, we’ll have to bail before we attract the wrong crowd.”

  Slack-jawed, she looked out the windows. “By myself?”

  “We’re right here.”

  Hesitantly, she exited the vehicle, strapped on a new holster and stuffed the gun inside it. She walked around the cop car, getting used to the holster’s weight, and surveyed the open lot around them with narrow eyes.

  Paul could tell Dan was impressed. She looked good with the new sidearm firmly attached to her lower right, skinny- jean covered thigh, like a real life movie heroine. Paul had thought the same thing the first time Sophia had gone strapped. He prayed Wendy would fare better with the weapon than Carla had.

  Her first five shots missed everything. Dan, Paul, and Sophia exchanged glances. The sixth shot missed too.

  Paul shook his head, cleaning remnants of peanuts from his teeth with his tongue.

  “Squeeze the trigger,” Sophia said out the back window. “Don’t pull it.”

  Dan and Paul turned to Sophia.

  She stared back at them. “What?”

  Paul laughed out loud. He couldn’t have been any prouder of his wife. She was strong in the old world and she was strong here too.

  Wendy nodded at Sophia and the next shot exploded the Beetle’s large front windshield, splattering glass fragments all over the car’s seats. A surprised scream escaped her.

  “Nice!” Paul yelled.

  “Now give it hell,” Dan said.

  She spread her stance, squinted and unloaded the entire clip into the VW, ejected the spent clip to the ground, slapped a new one in, emptied half of it into the car and stopped. She stared at the bullet riddled Beetle. It looked like something you would see in Afghanistan. Even the flowers in the dash had holes in them.

  She turned back to the cop car with a grin running from ear to ear. “How you like me now?”

  Paul smiled back, starting feeling a little better about things.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time they went around Wichita and crossed the Oklahoma state line, the snow was gone and the car’s dash read 48 degrees in green digits. Empty wrappers from Little Debbie snacks, granola bars and crackers littered the floorboards of the car. It had been the perfect pit stop: gas, guns and groceries all in one small town. And best of all, no walkers, not counting the thing dragging the teddy bear. Despite the fact the sun was getting low again and they’d have to secure someplace to sleep soon, Paul’s confidence steadily returned as he steered the patrol car down Interstate Thirty-Five.

  They’re luck continued when they came across a single story house nestled inside a perimeter of pine trees on the outskirts of Ponca City, Oklahoma. There were hardly any neighbors around to drop by either, which is exactly what they were looking for on their Haunted House Hunters quest. Paul parked in the drive and they exited the vehicle.

  They readied their guns and Dan politely knocked on the door. He straightened his hair and coat while they waited. But no one answered, so Paul kicked the door in and cautiously entered.

  No one was home and it was much cleaner than the previous farmhouse in Iowa had been. Newer furniture and thicker curtains too, but no food. This clan had packed up everything in their pantry, except two boxes of pasta and a glass jar of coffee grounds. Paul wondered aloud where they had gone.

  “Maybe FEMA has something set up around here somewhere,” Dan said, examining a family photo on a wall in the living room.

  “I wouldn’t count on it. You thought F.E.M.A. was slow before, we’ll be lucky to see them by the time we’re eighty,” Paul snickered.

  “Yeah,” Dan chuckled, plopping down onto a red couch.

  “It is so nice having water that isn’t frozen,” Sophia said, taking another cold gulp.

  “And beer!” Wendy said, tipping back a brown bottle of Miller Lite she had taken from Papa’s. “Anyone want one?”

  They shook their heads, opting to remain clear headed.

  “I say we go shopping for new coats tomorrow,” Sophia suggested with a smile.

  “And some shoes,” Dan said, kicking off his big boots and resting his feet on the coffee table. “I can barely move in these clod-hoppers.”

  “Can you imagine how much easier this is going to be in tennis shoes?” Paul said, joining Dan on the couch with a box of Swiss Rolls and a bottle of water.

  “And no gloves!” Wendy said.

  “Oh I know!” Sophia exclaimed. “We’re going to be twenty pounds lighter,” she grinned.

  “I’m gonna get some new underwear too,” Dan said. “Mine are shot!”

  Sophia dropped her smile. “Okay, now you just ruined it.”

  Paul felt good seeing her be funny again. It had been over a week since he’d seen a hint of that sense of humor he had come to know and love.

  “You better concentrate on some new socks,” Sophia said, scrunching her face up and waving a hand over Dan’s feet.

  “You better get some new socks!” Dan fired back.

  “Good one,” Paul murmured, stuffing an entire Swiss Roll into his mouth.

  “I also can’t wait to get rid of this long underwear,” Sophia said, scratching her legs.

  “Oh I know! I bet my legs are so red, I’m afraid to even look,” Wendy said. “Luckily, I don’t have to dance for a living anymore. It was always so embarrassing when I had any bruises. All of my customers would think someone was abusing me and try to be my guardian angel. It was so annoying.”

  “Bruises? From the pole?” Sophia asked.

  “The pole, the stage, the tables. You name it, I found away to bang it.”

  Dan shot her a befuddled look.

  “Bang against it, you jerk,” she scowled.

  Dan threw his hands up into the air and the four grew quiet.

  Paul stared at the Oklahoma Sooners wall clock making a clicking sound each time the red second hand jumped forward in time one second. The fact that there would never be another Iowa Hawkeye football game made him sigh. No tailgates, no barbecues, no yelling over a bad call or a last minute touchdown. Not in his lifetime anyway.

  “No more football, huh?” Dan said heavily, following Paul’s gaze to the clock.

  “How bad does that suck?”

  “Never be another World Series, or a Call of Duty game, or a book that hasn’t already been written,” Dan said glumly, looking from the clock to the room’s darkened flat screen TV.

  Paul didn’t feel like continuing with the list and let his mind drift away instead.

  “So,” Sophia said. “How long have you been dancing?”

  “All my life,” Dan answered.

  “Not you!”

  “Oh.”

  Sophia shook her head and turned back to Wendy.

  “I’ve been dancing since I was twenty-one,” she blushed.

  “How old are you now?”

  “I’m twenty-five.”

  “Wow.”

  Dan munched on some Bugles, his crunching filled the room.

  “How’d you... get into it?” Sophia asked.

  “Well, it was either that or waiting tables in some small town dump for spare change, which I’d already done.”

  “Was it hard? Your first dance, I mean.”

  “It w
as really hard,” Wendy said, drinking her beer. “I was so nervous I almost passed out, but I got used to it pretty quick. Whiskey helped.”

  Awkward silence rushed back into the modest living room. Paul was glad Sophia never had to face a challenge like that. There were definitely times in her life, before and after he had come along, when she had been financially strapped, but fortunately it had never led to a life of stripping. She was smarter than that anyway, too much dignity.

  “So,” Dan said. “How do you have a relationship with someone? Don’t they get crazy jealous?”

  Wendy laughed. “It never works out. At first, they’re fine with it, or at least they say they’re fine with it, but they always end up drunk and starting a fight in the bar.”

  “You have a boyfriend now?” Dan probed, raising his eyebrows.

  “No. Do you?”

  He laughed. “No boyfriends here.”

  “Men are too much drama,” Wendy said. “Besides, they only want one thing anyway.”

  “Power tools?” Dan asked.

  Wendy’s forehead creased. “What?”

  “Electronics?” Paul asked.

  “Cars?”

  “Pizza rolls?”

  Wendy turned to Sophia. “How do you put up with these two?”

  “It’s not easy.”

  Their laughter drifted back into a dreary silence that made the clock’s ticking louder, one tick after another.

  They continued to eat and drink by the tea light candles Sophia had grabbed at the last minute from the grocery store. It was a good thing she had because this place was cleaned out; even the knives in the butcher’s block were gone. The clocked ticked away and Paul wondered how much longer its batteries would last. Wondered how long all of the brand new packages of batteries still hanging on store shelves would last before expiring like all of the milk and eggs already had.

  “Do you guys believe in God?” Wendy suddenly asked, lighting up another cigarette and exhaling a rolling cloud of smoke across the room.

  They exchanged glances and returned their stares to Wendy without speaking.

  She took another swig of beer, studying their faces.

  “I do,” Sophia finally said. “We would’ve never made it this far on our own.”

  “Yeah but, isn’t it His fault this happened in the first place?” Wendy asked.