Floyd & Mikki (Book 2): Zombie Slayers (Dawn of the Living)

by Tatner, Joseph

  “Why is it always cats?!” Floyd railed at the world.

  “You know creepers cain’t drown, right Floyd?”

  “Yeah, but we’ll be long gone before the little furball trudges back up onto shore. Check around and make sure it doesn’t have any friends.”

  They opened every cabinet, cupboard and cubby hole. The place was clear. Floyd found a set of keys hanging on a hook inside one of the cabinets. He walked to the front of the cabin and tried one of them. The engine coughed and sputtered and died. He tried again. Same results. The third time, the engine turned over and roared to life, accompanied by a huge backfire. The noise would have invited every brain-eater in town to visit, if they weren’t already preoccupied getting burned to a crisp. The gas gauge read half full. More than enough for what they needed.

  The cabin walls were mostly glass windows, offering a great view of the surrounding area from every angle. In the back, there was a little folding table, a mini kitchen, and two small beds, one on each side. Mikki sat down on one and found it was surprisingly comfy.

  “Cain’t you just see us livin’ on a boat like this, Floyd? Maybe later, after we stock up on supplies and find us some ammo? This’d be a helluva lot more comft’rble than yer old truck. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “And look! Real beds! Big enough for two!”

  Floyd laughed. “How do you figure. You can barely fit one person on those beds.”

  “Sure, if you lay down side by side. But I wasn’t figurin’ it that way.” Mikki had her helmet off and gave him a wink.”

  “Damn, girl! Don’t you never get enough?”

  “Come on, Floyd! We could go anywhere! Sailin’ all over the place! Our own little private Love Boat? Besides, the sun just went down and it’ll be a long night. We can pull away from the dock here and hang around until the morning, safe on the ocean. Then we can head out of this dump. Every creeper in town outta be part of the fire by then anyway.”

  “Yeah, Crispy Creepers.”

  The two laughed. Floyd pulled out his tourist map and noted which waterway he had to travel down to make the most progress before ditching the boat. The less they had to walk, the better. Even without a full ammo, walking with a backpack, Mini Uzi, sniper rifle, shotgun, sword and grenades really weighed you down. Floyd was surprised that Mikki hadn’t popped a grenade all day, but then he remembered that she had found other ways to blow shit up. He stepped back out onto the deck, found the rope tying the boat to the dock, and threw it onto the deck.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s see what this baby can do.”

  The steering wheel, he could figure out. The odd assortment of levers were another matter. He tried pulling them and the boat went into reverse. He quickly put them back where they were, as Mikki laughed at him. OK, if back was reverse, then theoretically forward meant…

  The boat lurched ahead. Floyd quickly turned the wheel to the right and narrowly missed the boat tied up next to him. Mikki fell off the bed onto the floor, landing with a thud. Soon they were headed out to sea, bounding up and down on the waves.

  “Yeehaw!” Mikki screamed with delight. She took off her weapons and jacket and headed out onto the deck, moving forward to feel the ocean spray on her face. Floyd felt like he did the first time he ever drove a truck. He was actually having…fun! He opened up the throttle all the way and turned the wheel left and right, turning in every direction.

  Mikki held on to the rail at the bow, feeling completely alive. Of course, she did the Titatnic pose, arms outstretched and screaming, “I’m flying! I’m king of the world!”

  She felt the salty water splashing on her face. She tasted it on her lips. She felt every wave, every movement of the ocean. She felt the boat going up and down, up and down, up and down, up and…oh shit!

  “Floyd!” she called out.

  He couldn’t hear her over the roar of the engines. Floyd was caught up in his own little world. He was having a blast and loving every minute of it. Maybe Mikki was right. Maybe they should keep the boat. Stock it up and live on the ocean. Never worry about some damn undead thing biting your ass in the middle of the night ever again!

  “Floyd!!!” Mikki called louder.

  He still couldn’t hear her, but he saw her double over. She dropped to her knees and was hanging on to the rail. Floyd quickly wound down the engines and ran out to her. He arrived just in time to see her hurl every bit of the last MRE she ate over the side of the boat. The fish would eat well tonight.

  “I…don’t feel so good,” Mikki said, weakly.

  “I can see that,” Floyd said softly. Luckily, her hair was still in a ponytail so she hadn’t barfed all over it. He put his left arm in front of her to steady her and gently held the back of her head with his other hand. He knelt there, talking softly to her. After a minute or so, she puked up another batch of fish food. She hurled and hurled until she heaved up nothing but air. Then Floyd helped her to her feet and held her tight, guiding her as she staggered back to the bunk.

  Floyd gently laid her down on the bed and got a bottle of water for her to rinse out her mouth. He grabbed a wide glass from the galley and had her spit into it, then dumped it down the little sink. He sat by Mikki’s side, gently stroking the side of her face. Eventually, she passed out and was soon snoring soft little girl snores. Floyd kissed her gently on the forehead, tucked her under a blanket, and then sat on the other bunk, divesting himself of all his armaments so he could stretch out and grab some sleep. One more time, he looked over at Mikki.

  With a tiny smile, he said, “Love boat my ass.”

  Chapter Eight

  Floyd awoke to a bright sun, streaming in through the windows. The little boat bobbed gently up and down on the waves. Mikki was still snoring softly, and given her proclivity for vomiting, he decided to let her sleep. She had long since emptied her stomach, but that wouldn’t keep her from the dry heaves that kept her miserable until merciful sleep claimed her. Even in her slumber, she still looked a little green.

  After consulting the map one more time, Floyd pulled up the anchor and headed east along the shoreline to a little patch of waterways known as Anaheim Bay. He didn’t even know Anaheim had a bay. He thought Anaheim was just where Mickey Mouse lived in his Magic Kingdom. In fact, Anaheim Bay wasn’t even in Anaheim. It was next to the Seal Beach pier. Of course, there were no seals, either. Whatever.

  Although some of the surrounding area was residential, most of it wasn’t. There was a tiny commercial dock of some sort with road access to Pacific Coast Highway. The 405 freeway was only a couple of miles away from here. Floyd hoped they could find a working vehicle of some sort that had at least a few gallons of gas in the tank to start with. He had a long way to go before he could rebuild a truck like Freedom.

  Of course, now that he had Mikki, he might consider a different vehicle, like a minivan or something. The bigger the vehicle, however, the smaller the gas mileage, and Floyd didn’t feel like driving in the same enclosed space as a couple dozen cans of gasoline. Not only would the fumes kill him, but a stray bullet from some raider could blow him to bits. Whatever wheels he found, he would have to find a way to armor it.

  Mikki stirred in her sleep and groaned. Her head felt twice its size. Eventually one eye opened and she groggily asked where they were. Floyd explained they were heading to shore. He handed her a couple of aspirin he had found in a medicine cabinet and a glass of water. He had already taken all the Band-Aids and packaged alcohol wipes he found inside, along with some toothbrushes and a couple tubes of toothpaste. At least their breath would be minty fresh when they left the boat.

  “Are you hungry?” Floyd asked as he maneuvered up to the dock. A huge freighter of some sort was tied up there, but there was plenty of room for Floyd to pull in behind it.

  “Kinda sorta,” Mikki answered. “But I don’t think I’m gonna wanna eat anything for a while. Let’s just get off this tub.”

  She pulled on all her gear, including her helme
t, checked her weapons and jumped off onto the dock. Solid ground had never felt so good before! Floyd tied off the boat and joined her.

  “Here we go again, Mikki.”

  “Here we go again, Floyd.”

  She tagged the side of the boat with their logo and turned her back on it, the ocean, and her past eight hours of misery. Her stomach already felt better. She actually might want to eat something soon, but she knew they were down to their last couple of MREs. They had to make what little food they had last until they could find more.

  They wouldn’t find it here, though. The dock was deserted and the big freighter appeared to be empty as well. With no vehicles in sight, they started walking.

  They walked under the Pacific Coast Highway overpass. PCH went the wrong way, so they kept proceeding north towards the freeway. On the other side of PCH was a yard with about six buildings, some big cranes, and other construction equipment. The buildings all held piles of cement bags, road barricades and other items that were completely useless to them. Mikki led Floyd in inspecting the few vehicles in the area. She bypassed a beautiful Lexus and a few other nicer cars and headed over to a beat-up old Datsun B-210. The parts of the car that weren’t rusted were a sickly lime green. It looked like someone ate pea soup and threw up all over it.

  “You said you can drive a stick, right, Floyd?”

  “Yup.”

  “Alright, then.”

  Mikki couldn’t drive a stick, but she knew enough to make sure the car was in neutral as she reached under the dash and yanked out a couple of wires. She used her combat knife to strip away the insulation and then touched the wires together. The starter whined and the old engine sputtered and coughed, but eventually managed to fire up. Or…sputter up, rather. When the gauges came alive, she saw there was only about a quarter of a tank of gas, but the dinky little car would get great gas mileage. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep them going until they could find something better.

  “You don’t want a Lexus?” Floyd asked, only half joking.

  “Cain’t hotwire a Lexus. Automatically locks up the ignition if you try. These older cars is a lot easier.”

  “I’m not even going to ask how you know to hotwire a car.”

  “Ya know, Floyd? Sometimes you are actually smarter than you look.”

  “Then I must be pretty damn smart.”

  “Yeah…we’ll go with that.”

  “We’re off my map now, but I know the 405 is north of here. If we see a gas station along the way, we can maybe fill the tank and grab a map. Not a lot around here, but we’ll get to big city streets soon enough. And then we’ll probably have company, so keep your eyes peeled.”

  The old car rattled its way up the road. Floyd worried that the noise would draw brain-eaters from far and wide. No sign of trouble yet, thankfully, but they’d have to ditch the clunker as soon as possible.

  He didn’t have to worry. They made it to the 405 safely enough, but after only a few miles of heading east, the entire freeway disappeared – along with everything else. Ahead of them was nothing but a big, black, hole in the ground, at least a mile in diameter.

  “Mikki?” said Floyd, staring at the huge, empty crater.

  “Yeah, Floyd?”

  “Are you sure you’ve never been here before?”

  Chapter Nine

  Floyd and Mikki surveyed the area through their binoculars. The pit in front of them was at least a mile in diameter. The cavity contained nothing that wasn’t charred black and some kind of vapor obscured the expanse. Most likely a variety of fumes, still belching out of open gas and sewer lines. Floyd told Mikki not to light up a cigarette.

  The freeway resumed up ahead, but the two couldn’t see much through the haze. Nor did they have any idea what had caused such devastation. They were heading into uncharted territory, in more ways than one. At the moment, Floyd’s lack of a map didn’t bother him.

  He broke out one of their precious MREs and shared half of it with Mikki. The sewer stink had worn off long ago, but they weren’t likely to run into anything undead in that pit. If they got into trouble on the other side, Mikki still had a water bottle full of the vile crap. Resigned to their fate (whatever it might be) they dropped down into the hold and slogged forward.

  There was very little rubble, but a lot of ash, at least a foot and a half deep. Whatever had been here had been vaporized—buildings, bodies, cars, whatever. It was hard going and the stuff clung to their boots and pants. Luckily, both pairs of boots they wore came up to their knees. Also, the ash was black, so it blended in with their clothes. The two could detect a distinctly odd smell, even with their helmets on. They started getting light-headed, so Floyd insisted they pick up the pace.

  It took them more than another 20 minutes to trudge through to the other side, and by then, the pair were ready to pass out. Or hallucinate. They stumbled away from the ridge and fell to the ground, pulling off their helmets and gulping in fresh air.

  “Damn, Floyd! There was more gas in that pit than at a political convention!”

  Floyd agreed. He looked around, hoping to see a gasoline station somewhere, but was sorely disappointed. Nothing but a couple of burned-out buildings and hulks of cars along bombed-out streets. It looked like Mogadishu on a Friday night.

  Through his binoculars, Floyd could make out the freeway in the distance a couple of miles away. He kept hoping to see a car somewhere that wasn’t wrecked but nothing looked promising. Mikki called to him and he put down the binocs.

  “Transportation!” she said.

  “Oh, you got to be shittin’ me!” was Floyd’s reaction.

  “You see somethin’ better around?” Mikki asked. She was standing by two rusty old bicycles leaning against the side of a building.

  “The Datsun wasn’t bad enough? What’s next? A pair of skateboards?”

  “If it gets us where we’re going faster than walkin’, yeah. Whatsa matter? Embarrassed that someone will see you?”

  “No, it’s just that…”

  “What?” Mikki asked, after an awkward silent pause.

  “Well, you remember how I told you I got my scar?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I haven’t been on a bike since.”

  Mikki busted out laughing. “Oh, you’re kidding! After all we been through, you’re afraid of a damn bicycle?”

  “Hey! You’re afraid of clowns!”

  “Clowns are creepy! And clowns won’t give us a ride. Well, they would, but we’d have to fit 20 people in a little car.”

  Floyd just stared at her, oblivious to the joke. Mikki didn’t bother to explain. Instead, she said, “Look, Floyd. You can do this. It’s just until we find somethin’ better. And if you fall off, I’ll kiss your boo-boo!” She broke out laughing again.

  Floyd realized how idiotic he was being, but that didn’t help conquer the fear. He grabbed one of the bikes, threw a leg over, took a deep breath and began pedaling. After a shaky start, he got the gears turning and managed to head off down the street without wobbling too much.

  “See? Just like riding a bike! You never forget how!” Mikki joked at him as she pedaled up to him.

  It really wasn’t all that bad, and despite the nearly flat tires and squeaky wheels, they were making fairly good time. The store fronts passed by rather rapidly, but not so fast that Floyd couldn’t observe the area. It was rather odd. No sign of brain-eaters or dead bodies or anything. Just…emptiness.

  Eventually, they came to a street on the left that made its way north. A couple of blocks up was an old ARCO gas station. Floyd called to Mikki and turned up the street. They kept waiting for something to go wrong, for some crowd of the undead to begin pouring out of the buildings and swarm them, but nothing happened. There was no sound at all but the squeaky bicycle wheels.

  Floyd and Mikki readied their shotguns and entered, pouring through every inch of the gas station, but it was completely empty. They opened one closet and saw that cockroaches had truly taken over the planet
, so they slammed the door and kept moving. It was where they had stored the old soda syrup boxes, and the bugs had been feasting on it for years.

  After taking the opportunity to use the restrooms, they removed their helmets and checked out the AMPM Mini Market. To Mikki’s delight, she found a shelf full of zombie cakes. Floyd checked out the hot dogs in the warmer. They didn’t look any worse than they did when they were first put in there two years ago, but he wouldn’t have eaten one of them then, either. He grabbed some water bottles from the non-cooling coolers and filled their flasks, then grabbed a few extra bottles as well. They were well past the area where the electrical grid was working, so they didn’t expect to have live electricity again anytime soon.

  “Hey, Floyd, look! Oyster crackers! I used to love these things!” She pointed to a box of small clear plastic bags of crackers on the shelf.

  “I wouldn’t eat those, if I were you,” he warned.

  “Oh, come on, Floyd. It ain’t like crackers go bad, ya know!”

  Mikki tore open the bag and dumped the entire contents into her mouth, crunching away happily. A few seconds later, however, she was spitting cracker chunks all over the floor.

  “Damn, that’s nasty!” she cried, running for a napkin dispenser and wiping off her tongue. “Who knew crackers went bad?”

  “I did.”

  “Shut up, Floyd!”

  He smiled to himself, as he moved on to inspect more of the store. “Thank God!” he exclaimed, finding an Orange County Thomas Brothers Guide. It had pages and pages of maps of the entire area. Floyd found where they were on the map and plotted a course to get the hell out. There were also foldout maps of Arizona, Nevada, and New Mexico. He grabbed one of each and stuffed them into his backpack, while Mikki scoured the rest of the store for junk food and cigarettes. She even found a few packaged dinners that didn’t need refrigeration to augment their dwindling MRE supply.