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

by Tatner, Joseph

  There was never any point to discussing the future, since there didn’t seem to be one. Every single day you were likely to become a zombie teething ring. They had both beaten the odds for far too long, and they knew it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. Neither one of them had ever expected to stay alive this long.

  Then Mikki had seen that one lady who was pregnant. It struck a chord somewhere deep down inside of her. Not that she had baby fever or planned to get pregnant any time soon, but it drove home just one more thing that had been denied her. She knew she wasn’t the girliest girlie girl on the block, but did that mean she could never be a real woman?

  Floyd had always made her feel like a woman. He respected her, never judged her (well, hardly ever), and he always made her feel loved. Was it even remotely possible that one day, even in this screwed up crazy world, that maybe…just maybe…she might even dare to hope to raise a family?

  Well, not anytime soon, that was for sure. Oh, it was a ridiculous idea. One that she knew she had to kill dead in its tracks, at least for the moment. And yet…some day? Maybe?

  One thing was certain: they had no place to go. No place they had to be. No place to call home. Or did they?

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” A sound outside had caught her attention and Mikki jumped to the window, peeking out through the curtain. “Floyd! You gotta come see this, quick!”

  He came to the window just in time to see Lolo coming out of one of the cabins with two of the younger, prettier girls in the camp. They each gave him a kiss as he ran off before they shut the door behind him, giggling like crazy. Floyd gave a little smile, winked at Mikki, and headed back to bed.

  “Lucky guy,” Mikki said.

  “I don’t know,” Floyd responded. “I wouldn’t give up what I have right here.” He grabbed Mikki’s hand and pulled her back to the bed with him.

  “I know, baby. Me neither. And maybe we don’t have to.”

  Floyd gave her a quizzical look. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  Within an hour, everyone was at breakfast. Bacon and eggs, toast, fresh squeezed orange juice and more goat’s milk. Everyone was in high spirits. Their bags were all packed and they were anxious to get on the road. Ranger Smith had meticulously planned for this day, but everything was still in a state of semi-controlled chaos. He did his best to herd everyone and Marjorie did her best to get him to relax. Neither one was very successful.

  And yet, somehow, everyone managed to make it back to the raider camp. The original plan was to load the younger kids together in the armored dune buggies, where they would be safer. That plan changed, however, when Floyd and Mikki arrived with Behemoth. The TAV made a much better baby carrier than the dune buggies. Although it was a little cramped, there was enough room for the SEALs, a couple of the women, and the younger children. The small children didn’t take up much room.

  “Put all the kids in the army truck,” Floyd announced, taking off his helmet after dropping three large, black canvas bags to the ground. Mikki smiled to herself in triumph when Floyd said “army truck.” He had publicly acknowledged his defeat.

  “MacGyver!” Floyd continued. “You’re driving.” He threw the Navy man the key.

  “What are you riding in, then?” MacGyver asked.

  “We’re not,” Floyd said plainly.

  For several seconds, time stood still. Everyone froze as that announcement scrambled their brains. Then came the eruption of words jumbled together. Words like, “What do you mean?” “Is he serious?” “What did he say?” “What’s going on?”

  Mikki climbed up onto Behemoth and explained. “We ain’t goin’ with you. We only came back because we promised we’d get y’all safely to New California Haven. But these here navy guys can do that for ya.

  “It’s a good place to be safe and raise yer families. Y’all will like it there. But…well, there just ain’t nothin’ for folks like Floyd and me. We’ll stay here and monitor the radio.”

  Bob took the news hard. As unrealistic as his hopes were regarding Mikki, they had all just been completely shattered, and he didn’t know how to take it. He looked like he was about to cry.

  Mikki addressed him directly, “Bob, there’s a headset radio in the tru—tactical assault vehicle.” She threw a little grin at Floyd, granting him this one concession. “Frequency is already set to the ranger radio. Keep in contact, and if you need us, we’ll find a way to get to you. But we ain’t goin’ with you. We’re stayin’ here.”

  For the first time (maybe in his life), Mr. Sourpuss actually smiled. Mikki saw it. Freakin’ bastard! Mikki thought to herself. Screw you and the horse you ride out on!

  All the others protested, but there was no changing the two Zombie Hunters’ minds. Finally accepting the inevitable, Bob gave Floyd and Mikki technical advice on the generators and wiring. Marjorie filled them in on the remaining livestock. John just stared at them with an understanding semi-smile, and shook their hands firmly.

  The kids were thrilled as they piled into Behemoth. Two of the mothers and one of the girls who had been with Lolo kept them off MacGyver’s back (literally) as he drove. Floyd and Mikki had left more than enough ammunition in the vehicle, including a few grenades, to ensure the Happy Campers could defend against any assault. The men of the camp loaded the dune buggies and their belts with guns and ammo. They left one of the armored dune buggies with a .50-caliber machine gun for Floyd and Mikki, just in case they needed it.

  After the shaking of hands and exchanging of goodbyes all around, the campers took to the road. Soon, all the smoke and dust had settled from their departure. All the world was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind in the trees. Once again, Floyd and Mikki stood alone.

  “Floyd?”

  “Yeah, Mikki?”

  “Let’s go back to bed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The first week was uneventful. Blissfully, peacefully, uneventful. Floyd and Mikki had taken several hunting trips throughout the area, but except for a few straggler zombie bunnies (which they easily dispatched), there were no undead animals left in the area. One nice thing about zombies: they couldn’t procreate on their own, and when you killed them, they stayed dead. Or…deader.

  The two dined on leftovers from the Farewell Feast for several days. They spent the nights locked in each other’s arms, bodies wrapped passionately around each other, and spent the mornings sleeping in long after the sun had arisen to begin its day job.

  Of course, they kept up with their training, spending a couple of hours every day to practice with their swords and spar in hand-to-hand combat. No matter how safe the campground seemed at the moment, they were not about to get lazy now. You could never tell what bizarre threat would pop up at any moment.

  Although they usually didn’t wear their full battle gear, they always wore a set of basic armor and kept at least a pistol or two on them. Bonnie and Clyde were nearly always with them or nearby as well.

  One of the first things they did was to familiarize themselves with all the equipment, hydroelectric generators, and electric wiring throughout the camp. Everything was in good working order and they planned to keep it that way. Then they examined the animals. Floyd affectionately named the place “Green Acres.” When Mikki didn’t get it, Floyd was inwardly pleased that he had finally found a TV show Mikki didn’t know anything about. It seems there were some shows, after all, that she had not seen on Netflix. When he explained the show to her, Mikki promptly dubbed him “Farmer Floyd.”

  Farming wasn’t Floyd’s real passion, however. He spent hours fishing on the lake. It was both relaxing and practical, as the fish he caught was quite tasty. He couldn’t remember a more peaceful time in his life, since he had gone fishing on the lake with his dad as a kid.

  He showed Mikki how to properly gut, prepare and cook the fish to perfection, but she had no interest in going with him to actually catch the fish. After the Love Boat excursion, Mikki wasn’t about to get into a boat of
any kind, but she did enjoy using the combat knife on something that still bled. No, Mikki’s relaxing hobby was electronics, so she played with the short-wave radio and upgraded the electrical wiring in all the cabins while Farmer Floyd became Fisherman Floyd.

  Bob had managed to keep everything working, but all too often, his “temporary” electrical fixes were left to become permanent. Mikki found way too many bare wires spliced together. It was a miracle the place hadn’t burned to the ground before now. She inspected every connection and rewired at least a third of them in a much safer manner.

  The Happy Campers were an quirky bunch in a number of ways. Even though they had no intention of ever coming back, the women had left clean sheets and pillowcases on all the perfectly made beds. Clean towels hung in all the bathrooms, and all the cabins had been swept and mopped until they were sparkling clean. It was like Donna Reed had been cloned in some secret lab in the 1950’s and her replicas were sent to Emerald Valley Campground. Mikki guessed it was a way to ease the excitement and tension of waiting for that final trip to begin. The women had to keep themselves extra busy.

  The farm was in much the same condition. The men had maintained all the pens and fences with meticulous detail. No gate was hanging off its hinges. No fence was missing a post. Not a nail or screen was out of place. Although they had killed one of the larger pigs for their final feast, there were still a few others, in addition to chickens, a couple of roosters and a few goats. They had tilled a couple of fields of corn, tomatoes, lettuce, and several other crops, while several apple trees grew in the woods nearby.

  Farmer Floyd tended the crops, while Milkmaid Mikki took care of the animals. The first time she milked a goat, it creeped her out. She cursed a blue streak that would have made a sailor blush when she accidentally shot herself with goat’s milk, but she eventually got the hang of it. Once she got used to the smell, she actually liked working with the animals. Elly Mae Clampett and her beloved critters.

  It seemed they had finally found a home for themselves. One in which they could be the masters of their own destiny. They had safety. They had freedom. They had electricity. They had food. They had big guns with lots of ammo. Most importantly, they had each other. Life was complete.

  Every day, Bob would call on the radio. Ostensibly, he called to give a report on their progress, but Floyd and Mikki both knew he was really calling just to hear Mikki’s voice, and to make sure she was OK. After a little more than a week, Bob gave them the news: they had made it to NCH! He said he was calling from the reception facility. He was thrilled with all the high-tech electronic gadgets they had there. Mikki almost wanted to warn the NCH soldiers not to let Bob wire anything on his own, but she decided against it.

  Then a familiar voice came through the radio. It was Colonel Trowbridge. He confirmed that everyone had arrived safely, and they would all be provided with housing, jobs, and a safe place to live. He tried one last time to get Floyd and Mikki to reconsider their decision to leave NCH, but they politely refused. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Bob, Ranger Martin, Marjorie and a couple of the other Happy Campers, NCH signed off.

  Just before Mikki turned off the radio, another voice came over the airwaves.

  “Is this really Floyd and Mikki? The Floyd and Mikki, Zombie Hunters?”

  Floyd and Mikki looked at each other. They didn’t recognize the voice, and they had never referred to themselves as “Zombie Hunters.” They would have preferred something like, “Zombie Slayers,” or “Zombie Destroyers.” But the name did suit them, so they just went with it.

  “Yeah, I reckon so,” Mikki answered the male voice. “Who’s this?”

  “Hot damn! Is it really you? The two who killed that nasty zombie bear and blew up Groverstown?”

  “Uh,…yeah. That’s us, fer sure. This is Mikki. Floyd’s right here with me. Say hello Floyd!”

  “Hello,” Floyd said, more with confusion than enthusiasm.

  “So who are you?” Mikki asked.

  “Oh, shoot, this here’s Dave, and my wife, Babbette.”

  Mikki looked at Floyd and mouthed the name, “Babbette?” Like, are you kidding me? The two smiled but stifled an audible laugh. The male voice continued.

  “Oh, and this here’s my son, Chester. Say high to Floyd and Mikki, Chester!”

  “Wow! Is this really Floyd and Mikki?” came a young boy’s voice from the speaker. “You guys rock!”

  “Thanks, but how do you know about us?” Floyd asked, temporarily taking the standup mic.

  “You kiddin’? Everyone with a ham radio knows about Floyd and Mikki! Bob’s been fillin’ us in on your travels. Hard to believe half the stories he told about you were true, though.”

  “Oh, they’re true alright,” Mikki insisted.

  Bob! Of course! That made sense. He must have spent his nights chatting with anyone he could find on the radio. It seems that perhaps humanity wasn’t so easy to kill off after all. Throughout America—and presumably the world—various individuals and small groups of people had managed to survive. If they could keep from killing each other long enough to organize, they just might be able to purge the world of the various undead creepers that had taken over. Take that cockroaches!

  “Alright, Chester, gimme the radio back. Hi! It’s Dave here again. So did I hear that last conversation correctly? You guys have taken over the old Emerald Valley Campground site?”

  “Yup. Everyone else made it to New California Haven. You should head on out there. It’s in Long Beach. Good place to settle down and raise a family.”

  “Great, I’ll keep in touch with Bob and figure out how to get there. It’ll be one helluva trip though. Sure hope we can meet you two sometime. You guys are legend!”

  Mikki laughed and took the mic back, “Well, if you ever get in the area, y’all stop on by. Ain’t nobody her but us, some pigs and chickens.” She let go of the mic button and laughed out load. Floyd joined her.

  “Sounds good, sounds good. We’ll you keep on rockin’, you two. Hot damn! The Floyd and Mikki! Who’d-a thought?”

  The radio went silent. Mikki reached over and turned it off for the night. Floyd and she burst out laughing. They stepped out of the little office and stood in the middle of the campground.

  The campfire had long gone cold. The light wind had blown away much of the ash, but the two could still smell the freshly charred wood. For once, the setting of the sun did not bring a sense of dread. Except for the soft breeze rustling through the trees, all was silent. All was peaceful. All was calm.

  Well, now it was official. The campers were gone, and Floyd and Mikki had the place to themselves. As Floyd put his arm around Mikki and pulled her closer, the same thought occurred to both of them: Emerald Valley Campground was all theirs.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next three weeks passed by slowly and without incident. No raiders shooting up the place. No zombie bears attacking from the woods. No black helicopters appearing in the middle of the night to try and steal them away. Nothing.

  The weather was a steady 74 degrees, with a light breeze. Sunny with scattered clouds. No chance of rain or showers. The fish were biting, the crops were growing, and the animals…were doing whatever animals were supposed to do.

  Every morning, Floyd and Mikki got up and made breakfast. They usually ate outside at one of the tables, then washed the dishes and left them to dry as they sparred together awhile to maintain their killing edge. Then Floyd would fish for an hour or two, while Mikki fed the animals and scanned the radio waves for any other survivors. They never heard from Dave or his family again since that first night, and couldn’t help wondering if they were even still alive. They didn’t seem like the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree.

  The afternoons were mostly spent in the old Raider camp. Floyd used the power tools and machinery to modify the armored buggy that the Happy Campers had left behind. He didn’t approve of the sloppy job the raiders had done, so he took it upon himself to virtually rebu
ild it, making a number of substantial improvements in the process.

  He added additional armor to the undercarriage in case they ran over a grenade or something, replaced the engine with a much more powerful one, gave it a tune up, and refitted the machine gun on a rotating ring. From her seat in the back, Mikki could stand up through the hatch and spin around to fire in any direction. All of this Floyd surrounded with bulletproof metal plating, including a pop-up roof of sorts (in case they needed to make a quick exit) and a small, v-shaped metal plow for bowling. Two sharp, angled, three-foot jagged metal blades emerged from the top and bottom of the nose on both sides, ready to slice through anything in its path. He could see through several narrow slits in the metal “windshield” without much chance of a bullet hitting him from outside.

  It was half tank, half dune buggy, but was still small and light enough to get fairly decent gas mileage. Even so, Floyd added the 20-gallon tank from the long-deceased Monster Snowplow and a smaller reserve tank, so the vehicle could theoretically travel about 500 miles on a single tank of gas. He made sure there was enough plating around and beneath the gas tanks to prevent a bullet from hitting them.

  Floyd loved to tinker, and Mikki loved watching Floyd tinker. There was something really sexy about a man hard at work, and Floyd was really intense about his vehicles. Often times, she would help him—handing him a wrench or something—but sometimes, she would just sit in a chair and watch him. Sometimes she brought a book or two with her to read. The women in the camp might have seemed as sweet and innocent as Rachel Rae, but Mikki had discovered a huge pile of racy romance novels left in a closet that surprised the hell out of her. Mikki was getting a much broader education in sexuality than she had ever expected. She learned some things in those books that even Floyd didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t mind learning a thing or two from Mikki, in that regard.

  She also loved her science and educational books. There were a number of books the campers had used to home school their children. In the ranger’s office, she found several piles of Popular Mechanics and various electronics or computer magazines. Those must have been Bob’s. She devoured those nearly as fast as the romance novels. Combined with her daily combat training, Mikki was becoming quite a Renaissance Woman.