Zombie, MN

by R. J. Kottke

  “Brain liquefaction?” The girl looked like she was edging towards my pill bottle. “Whatever are you talking about? We're supposed to go and see a psychiatrist.”

  “And we haven't even agreed to do that,” the guy added.

  “Psychiatrist? Is that what they told you? That's just some ruse. They're planning to suck out your brains and stuff your head with packing peanuts.”

  “Packing peanuts? Are you sure you're feeling okay?” The guy threw a worried glance over to the girl. I recognized that look. Watch out Peepaw, don't swallow any cheese whatever you do.

  “However did you find out about our appointment anyway?” the guy inquired.

  “Gunnie heard on the Ham that there were three new appointments for the new folks in town. That's the three of you in case you didn't know.”

  The guy objected again, “The appointments, which if I haven't said before we haven't agreed to, are just psychiatric consults. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  The girl looked disbelieving. “So you rode all the way into town on your tractor because you're worried about us going to see a psychiatrist?”

  “Psychiatrist? Haven't you two heard a word I said? I told you, they’re gonna suck your brains out.” He turned to the guy and emphasized, “And it don't matter if you agree or not because they'll come and kick down your door if you don't go willingly.”

  Peepaw could tell that the guy and girl didn't believe him. So to prove his point, he gestured, “Follow me.” Out the door he went with all of us trailing behind. He went next door and knocked on E.M.'s door. The girl scolded, “Peepaw, it's late for a visit. She might already be in bed!”

  “Nonsense. Peanut heads have an active night life.” He pounded harder.

  The wooden door opened and E.M. stepped out on the large covered porch. A warm light from a lamp behind her darkened her face, making her look a little eerier than usual.

  Peepaw said, “Good evening Ellen Margaret. Long time no see. How are things?”

  E.M. started to talk about the weather, and Peepaw stuck his index finger deep into her ear.

  Both the guy and girl screamed out, “Peepaw!!! No!!!”

  He loudly shushed them and continued to probe, while E.M. continued to talk about the weather forecast for the upcoming week. Peepaw pulled out a pink packing peanut and let it fall to the ground. He put his finger back in and produced another packing peanut. He did this a few more times to emphasize his point – E.M. was a peanut head.

  “Now do you believe me?” he asked.

  The guy bent down and picked one up. “What's this slimy stuff?” He put it to his nose and said, “It has a weird chemical smell to it.”

  “It's a special lubricant. Makes the packing peanuts go in easier.”

  The girl looked shaken. “Is that what they want to do to us? Pack our heads full of foam peanuts?”

  “Yep. And your dog too. ”

  I shuddered. I definitely couldn't lose my brain. I still hadn't sent my I.Q. results to Mensa.

  “And once you become a peanut head, all you'll want to think about is brains, because you won't have any. Why do you think all these peanut heads around here are always so ravenous to eat cow brains?” He gave them an ominous look, “And once cow brains run out...we'll, let's not talk about that.” He shuddered visibly.

  The girl noticed his fear. “What's wrong Peepaw?”

  “We ran out of cow brains early this morning out at the farm and Hilda was on a rampage. I had to hide out on the top bunk in the bunkhouse till evening. I snuck in the barn and started the tractor in the dark so she wouldn't find me.” He ran his fingers through his snow white hair, “Do you know how hard it is for a ninety year old to climb up on that top bunk? And I nearly busted my ankle getting back down.”

  “What should we do Peepaw?” the guy asked.

  “I'll tell you what we're going to do. Get out of ZMN Zone 5 tonight. I got my bag packed.”

  “What about Hilda?” the girl inquired. “You're not just going to leave her there are you?”

  “Don't you worry about Hilda. She's a peanut head too. She'll eventually find some brains to eat. We need to worry about getting out of here.”

  Day 37 Con’t: The Escape

  10:00 post meridiem

  The girl just stood there insisting that we couldn't leave until we were properly packed. She made it very clear that she had no intention of leaving the bobeche behind. Peepaw, wild with sweat in the humid night air, looked at her as if she was a bit touched. His pickly scent accentuated the resolved look in his eyes. He insisted that we had to get out of there. Now!

  Je suis toujours prête! All I needed was my journal, my merino-lined blanket, and of course, Jody. I made a mental note to leave my playpen behind.

  The girl took off and ran in and out of the house, but the guy just stood there looking at E.M., the packing peanut still in his hand. Then all of a sudden, as if waking from a horrid dream, he stuck his finger in E.M.'s ear. He pulled out some slimy goo and a half a dozen packing peanuts. When one of E.M.’s eyes sunk back into her head, the guy let out a screech, very reminiscent of an out-of-tune E-string on a violin.

  At that point, the guy lost the cow brain sandwich that he’d recently had for supper, but it seemed to put some steel in his spine. “We’re leaving right now!” he shouted. “Grab the Question Book, the laptops, and the backgammon set.”

  The girl was on her seventh trip back inside, but she stopped halfway up the porch steps. (She hadn’t actually carried anything out up to this point, she had just been running back and forth between the car and the kitchen.) “But what about all my knitting? There’s so much of it!”

  That’s when Peepaw stepped in, “Girl, it ain’t right to dress a dog in wool. Let him have some dignity and leave those sweaters for the peanut heads.”

  Finally! Someone with some sense. Anyone who's anyone knows that cashmere is much softer than wool. Merci Peepaw!

  The guy charged up to the office, and I dashed over to the playpen. Jody? Where was Jody? She was gone! “Joodiiee! Joodiiee!” I yodeled. I frantically raced through the house but she was nowhere to be found. The guy flew down the stairs, “Get in the car now!” No! I could never leave Jody!

  I rushed outside and across the yard. That's when I caught a glimpse of E.M.’s cat pulling Jody towards its basement window. The cat was almost there and there was no way I could make it in time.

  Despair filled my heart, but suddenly out of nowhere, two crows swooped out of the sky and hit the cat, one right after the other. They temporarily knocked the cat off balance, but the peanut headed feline got back up and kept dragging Jody towards the window.

  With the growl of an angry bear and the screech of a mountain lion, a squirrel and a chipmunk flew out of the bushes and onto the cat’s back. I had assumed that peanut heads couldn’t feel pain, but apparently I was wrong, because E.M.’s cat rose up on its hind legs, yowling when Sider and Chester each sunk their teeth into an ear.

  After the initial bite, the cat quickly recovered and got its bearings back. It flailed around until my little rodent friends had to let go, and then it went back for Jody.

  The cat was lightening quick; it looked to be on some sort of mission. As it almost reached Jody, I realized I had remained frozen in place, just watching everything transpire. As I charged towards Jody, I feared that I had missed my opportunity. I was only halfway there when the cat reached the window. I was too late.

  But then in slow motion, Buster Bunny came flying through the air. The cat looked up just as Buster thumped him in the head with his hind leg. Packing peanuts, slime, and a shiny nickel flew out of the cat’s ears as it went rolling across the yard. I ran to Jody with all my might and snatched her safely up.

  “Frenchman, you got to run now, eh,” Gail cried, as he streak like lighting through the yard. “They’re coming down the street for you.”

  He passed by me just as a S.W.A.T. team van skidded to a stop in front of the driveway. Gail rea
ched the van right as the back doors swung open. Yelling, “Gas! Gas! Gas!” he let loose with everything he had. There was a slight pause before a dozen men dressed in black tactical gear poured out of the van; all of them fell to their knees and screamed for their mommies.

  “Run, Bippy! Run!” Gail shouted as he ran back by.

  “I’ll text you!” I shouted after him, as he disappeared into the bushes with Sider, Chester, Buster, Carl, and Midge.

  I made it to the car where the guy, the girl, and Peepaw were waiting for me. “In all my years I’ve never seen something quite like that,” Peepaw shook his head. “Now help me get my suitcase off the tractor.”

  The guy complained that the suitcase was heavy, but he stuffed it in the backseat, next to Peepaw, Jody, and me. There was a slight delay while the girl tried to buckle me into my safety harness, but she gave up when a line of black SUVs came around the corner.

  Once the girl was in the passenger seat, the guy punched the gas and our little all-wheel-drive station wagon tore out of the yard. We were only about a block ahead of the SUVs and they were gaining fast. That’s when the guy had a flash of inspiration.

  The running trail he had so mercilessly ran me up and down was just wide enough for our car, but too narrow for the SUVs. The guy went up over the curb and crashed through some white picket fences and a drainage ditch before he came to the trail. This reminded me of a song I know:

  ♪♪♪Over the river and through the woods,

  out of zombie town we go. ♪♪♪

  We sped down the running trail until it abruptly ended on a dirt road outside of town. The guy put on his blinker, stopped and looked both ways before he turned onto the road. I'm chalking that one up to habit I guess. The guy did get a perfect score on his last driver’s exam.

  About that time, a black helicopter flew over. It caught sight of our car and circled around. A bright spotlight beamed down on us as the chopper hovered directly overhead.

  Whether it was due to the helicopter, or the flatulence from the backseat, the guy got motivated to start moving again. As we sped along we could see the black SUVs barreling down a road perpendicular to ours. We just barely made it through the intersection before they did.

  About that time Peepaw asked, “Where’s the window crank?”

  The guy asked over his shoulder, “The what?”

  “The window crank...You know, to roll the window down.”

  “We have the air conditioning on. We should leave the windows up.”

  “I have the dynamite lit. We should roll the windows down.”

  I had been so busy watching the SUVs that I hadn’t noticed Peepaw open his suitcase. But now I looked and realized that it was full of dynamite, and Peepaw did indeed have a stick of dynamite lit.

  The guy looked in the rearview mirror and came to the same realization. I think he intended to hit the power window button, but he repeatedly hit the power lock button instead.

  “What in the world are you doing?” the girl screeched. “Aren’t you supposed to light dynamite outside?!!!”

  “Oh, so now you’re finally asking some good questions,” Peepaw answered.

  Since the fuse was getting alarmingly short, I reached over and pushed the power window button for Peepaw. It wasn’t a second too soon. He tossed the dynamite out the window and it exploded in the air behind us. When I looked back I could see the first SUV fly through the smoke.

  “Wasted that one,” Peepaw said as he lit a second stick. The girl screeched again, and then mercifully, she fainted. A good thing too because her vocal antics were starting to give me a headache.

  “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand...” Peepaw tossed the second stick out the window, and it bounced into the ditch. He kept tossing sticks of dynamite until finally one exploded in the middle of the road just as the first SUV reached it. Through the white smoky haze, I could see the SUV roll to a stop and several suits crawl out.

  We made our way out into an open field. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was premature. Another helicopter, an attack one, took its position next to the other one that was still overhead. The attack helicopter fired a rocket at us but it went wide and missed. The guy punched the gas and by the time we reached a wooded area, we were doing well over a 100 mph. At least that's what I think we were doing, because Peepaw’s face looked like it was in a wind tunnel. The speedometer actually only goes up to 100 mph. This low speed gauge is probably related to the manual for our station wagon claiming we shouldn’t go over 80 – something about speed being bad for the environment.

  “I know this area real well,” Peepaw said, “These woods ain’t gonna provide us with nearly enough cover.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, “Here Bippy, help me take this off.”

  At this point, I would like to take a brief, but necessary intermission. Even though I knew there was an attack helicopter overhead, and behind us there were men in black wanting to vacuum our brains out, my instincts told me that the most immediate danger was the pickly old man getting naked in the seat next to me.

  I moved as far away from Peepaw as I possibly could. Perhaps all the excitement was just too much for him. It definitely was becoming too much for me!

  It took Peepaw a little bit of struggling and a lot of flatulence to finally get his shirt off. What I saw right then will haunt me for the rest of my life. I frantically searched the floor boards for a nervous pill but was not able to find one, much to my dismay.

  Peepaw's upper body nakedness had a purpose. He quickly ripped his shirt into shreds and pulled out his cane. It was only after he worked the pump-action that I remember the cane was really a shotgun. As he stuffed some of the ripped material down the barrel, he looked at me and explained, “Wadding.”

  He grabbed the final stick of dynamite and looked up at the helicopters. “This will be just like snipe hunting back in the old days.” He was smiling as he lit the dynamite and dropped it down into the shotgun barrel. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi,...” and with a loud bang the dynamite went arcing towards the helicopters.

  Peepaw must have been a pretty good snipe hunter back in the day, because the dynamite went off exactly between the two helicopters. Before I could say, “Oh my,” both choppers began rotating slowly towards the ground. The attack helicopter shot rockets in every direction as it went down. It was beautiful.

  I was about to breathe another sigh of relief, but held my breath instead when I looked behind us and saw that an SUV had cleared the wreckage back on the road.

  “The bridge is closed ahead!” the guy shrieked. “They’re gonna catch us!”

  “No they won’t.” Peepaw slapped the guy on the shoulder, “Drive faster!”

  “But the bridge...”

  “I used to jump that old bridge all the time in my truck. Drive faster!”

  I admit to having my doubts when the bridge came into view. Most of the rickety bridge was gone, and it really didn’t look like jumping over it would be the best option.

  “Alright Luke, you're gonna hit that pile of dirt just off to the edge there,” Peepaw pointed. “It'll give us some extra umph.”

  “Who’s Luke?” the guy said as he lined the car up.

  “I’m Bo, you’re Luke. This here's Flash.” Peepaw pointed at the girl, who was still passed out in the passenger seat, “And that there is Daisy.”

  The guy gave him a quizzical look.

  “Awww, never mind.”

  The guy gunned it and Peepaw yelled, “Yeeeah-hoo!” as we hit the dirt mound and the car went air born.

  I thought about many things as we went through the air. The girl carrying me in a woven baby wrap when I was a puppy. The guy’s pathetic and endearing attempts to play ball with me. The theory of relativity. Toenails.

  With a crash, we came down hard on the other side and went sliding through some warning barriers. As one of the hubcaps rolled by, the girl suddenly woke up. “My knitting!” she cried before she realized where she was, and that the rest of
us were looking back over the bridge.

  The SUV sped towards the bridge, and it looked like they were going to try to jump it too. They came flying towards the dirt mound but just as they hit it, the driver chickened out and hit the brakes. The SUV did make it across the river – but the nose of the vehicle got buried into the river bank.

  After the airbags in the SUV deflated I was able to see that the two suits were none other than the two agents who had haunted me the whole time I lived in that quaint little northern Minnesota town. The guy's mirrored sunglasses sat on his face at a weird angle. I wasn't sure if it was due to the extra dump of adrenaline in my body, but I think his eyes were glowing red.

  “Well, times a wasting. Let’s get going to Chicago.” Peepaw stomped his foot, “Am I ever ready for a real hamburger!”

  “Now wait a minute...” I think the girl was going to object to Peepaw coming with us, but she made the mistake of turning around. “Ewww! Why aren’t you wearing a shirt!”

  With that the guy started down the road.

  Day 50: Cashmere Sweaters, Poor Man's Mocha, and Activism

  8:00 post meridiem

  Me and Peepaw are snuggled down in his new Everyman's Recliner. The girl found one in just the right color (cow brain gray) and that was big enough for me and Peepaw to sit in together.

  Peepaw has introduced me to a new drink – the Poor Man's Mocha is what I affectionately call it. We drink it together every night and it has thus become my favorite coffee refreshment. Another added benefit - it will save me hours from standing in the coffee line at our local coffee shop. I hate having to stand in line. Here's the recipe below:

  Step 1) Warm a cup of hot water

  Step 2) Add 1-5 tsp of instant coffee crystals

  Step 3) Add 2 tsp of your favorite instant cocoa

  Step 4) Stir until coffee crystals and cocoa are thoroughly blended

  Step 5) Drink and enjoy!

  Peepaw likes Chicago, especially Chicago-style pizza. The guy found a used farm truck for sale in a neighboring suburb. Now, Peepaw takes me out for pizza once a week. I sit right next to him and guess what? I don't have to wear any doggie harness. Peepaw's favorite pizza also happens to be my favorite - the habanero cheeseburger pizza pie.