by Jack Wallen
The room filled with laughter until the drunk started pushing and shoving his way toward the stage. Just as he was about to reach the edge of the raised platform, he tripped forward. The surrounding audience stopped the man from falling, face first, into the floor.
He was red nosed and sloppy drunk.
“What did you say, bitch? You think I’m some sort of qu…”
“Oh no,” Kitty interrupted. “We don’t use those kinds of words here in the Last Casket. This bar does not allow hatred. The only thing queer in this bar is that stuffed moose head over the fireplace. Seriously, it just doesn’t fit the rest of the design. See where I’m going with this solider boy?”
The drunkard stumbled backward, but quickly recovered. He stepped in close and did his best to look up Kitty’s dress.
“Come on, girl; show us what you got up there.”
Billy the Bat stepped into the picture, his face clearly registering the need to crush the lecherous larynx of the stranger.
Kitty stopped him short with a hand. “I’ve got this one.” She turned her attention back to the stranger.
“You really want to see what’s up this dress?”
The man nodded.
Before the drunk got the first glimpse of flesh, kitty’s Doc Marten boot flew in a bell-curve arch and connected with the man’s cheek. The stranger was launched backward and crashed to the floor. An awkward moment of silence wafted over the bar. Kitty glanced out over the crowd. Not one person flinched or spoke the first syllable.
Kitty cracked the tension with a wink. The audience finally broke free of the spell and tossed their voices forward to shower the petite singer with praise. Two of the larger men in the crowd stepped up and carried the downed stranger off.
“Now you all know what’s up my dress – anyone else care to take a peek?”
A fresh round of laughter rose up from the crowd.
“We’re going to take a short break.”
The crowd moaned their displeasure.
“Flatterers,” Kitty mocked.
As the band left the stage, Tuque turned on the canned music. The patrons turned back to one another to chat, laugh, and drink.
*
Backstage, the band collapsed onto any comfortable surface they could find.
“Well, boys,” Kitty started, “how does that feel?”
Tom sat up, a Cheshire grin splattered across his face. “It feels fucking incredible.”
Todd flashed a smile toward Kitty. “I second that.”
Billy the Bat nodded. “I have to admit, it feels like we’ve finally found our destination. It may not be Madison Square Garden, but it’s alive and the crowd seems to love us.”
“What more can you ask for?” asked Kitty.
“Dancers.” Mike Machine cried out. “Why don’t we find some girls, dress ‘em up as sexy zombies, put ‘em in cages, and…”
Kitty pulled off her right boot and flung it at Mike.
“Are you crazy? Maybe before the planet was covered in gray ash and The Walking Dead became a prophecy. The last thing we need is to look like our band is celebrating the apocalypse. Sexy or not, we aren’t dressing anyone up as zombies.”
“Vampires?” Mike asked.
“Why don’t we just concentrate on the music for a while? Once the locals get a good feel for what we’re about, then we’ll spring the treats on ‘em.”
Before anyone could argue with Kitty, Tuque peeked his head into the room.
“How much longer do you need? The crowd wants you back on. They love you guys.”
Kitty stood to retrieve her shoe back from Mike and turned to Tuque as she slipped it on.
“Give us five more minutes and we’ll be on.”
Tuque nodded and slipped out of the room with a smile.
Kitty. Kitty. Kitty.
The sound of the chanting crowd made its way back into the break room.
Kitty stood and started walking toward the door. “Well, boys, they’re calling our name. Time to get back to work.”
“Rock never sleeps,” said Todd.
“Let’s kick the crap out of old school,” Mike added.
Tom laughed. “Mike, sometimes you make no sense. We love ya anyway.”
*
As the band stepped back onto the stage, the shouting chant of ‘Kitty’, threatened to reduce the amps and drum heads to dust.
“We’re going to play you a song from our Bittersweet album. Everyone put on your demon horns and go dancing with the devil.”
As the second set started, Tuque stepped outside to grab some fresh air. In the distance, the hopeless moans of the undead drifted across the landscape.
“Call me crazy, but there’s an odd peace to that sound.”
The voice whispered from the surrounding darkness.
Tuque stiffened.
“What are you doing here, ya son of a bitch?”
A curtain of shadows seemed to raise and reveal the worn and leathered face of Lyle Lillard.
“Well, Tuque, I believe I have just as much right to be here as do you. Seeing as how you stole my entire clientèle, I would think you owe me a peek at what’s going on.”
Tuque released a pent-up laugh. “Lilly Livered, the only thing I owe you is a bullet in your ass.”
Lyle stepped in beside Tuque and leaned back against the brick wall of the bar. “Are you still holding that grudge? Come on, Tuque, you’re better than that.”
“Not really.”
The cock of a gun hammer clicked with a threatening echo. Tuque leveled the gun at Lyle’s face, the end of the barrel pressed hard into the man’s cheek.
“All I ask is for you to give me a reason to pull this trigger.”
Silence.
“You got nothing?”
Lyle finally spoke up. “I would have thought I’d given you reason enough long ago. You didn’t shoot me then, you won’t shoot me now. So, what say you put the gun down and we can talk?’
Tuque spat at Lyle’s feet.
“I have nothing to say to you, except leave my sight before this gets ugly.”
“We could help one another.”
Silence.
“No…we can’t. If those people in that bar want to return to Z-Pox, they will. All is fair in love and the apocalypse.”
Lyle sucked in a loud breath. “You might regret saying that, Tuque.”
“You don’t scare me Lilly Livered. After everything I’ve seen…nothing scares me. So hit me with your best, I won’t flinch.”
Laughter spilled out around the area and didn’t cease until Lyle finally spoke.
“Oh I think you will, my friend. I think you will.”
“Lillard, we haven’t been friends for a very long time.”
“It’s the apocalypse. Every rule in the book has changed. We’re all just doing our best to survive. That’s precisely why I’ve come. Tuque, my friend, I’ve found something that might be of interest to you.”
“Lillard, I am not your friend…”
Lyle held up a hand to stop Tuque’s voice.
“Just hear me out. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll walk away and never come back.”
Tuque looked up to the stars and eventually gestured for Lyle to continue.
“That ramen you’re serving? You’re going to eventually run out. At some point we’re all going to find our cupboards and our land completely bare. Starvation will become the biggest threat to mankind. But there is one thing that will never be in short supply.”
Lyle paused to look deep into Tuque’s eyes.
“As it stands, the dead outnumber the living. Sooner or later one side of the war is going to run out of food. Unless…we take advantage of a rather unpleasant situation.”
Lyle pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.
“Tuque, I’ve developed a process that allows me to sterilize the meat of the undead for human consumption. It’s perfectly safe and…”
“What?” Tuque shouted. “Ar
e you out of your mind?”
“Quite the opposite. I’ve never been more sure of myself. Tuque, desperate times call for desperate measures. We can’t grow food fast enough to replace what is missing. The supplies are running thin and the rations aren’t going to last.”
“I can’t believe this. You’re talking about cannibalizing zombies. We start eating those things and it won’t be long before we’re suffering some new strain of mad cow and attacking each other.”
Lyle tossed his cigarette and ground it out with his heel. “You’re wrong. With low-level microwave radiation, the meat is perfectly safe…no infection remains. The only issue is to get the meat from the freshly turned, otherwise it’s all rot.”
Tuque shook his head and turned to leave.
“What are you going to do when you’ve got nothing to serve? Starvation will do these people no favors. It won’t be long before people look at one another with an eye for survival. That won’t end well, Tuque.”
Lyle pulled a bag from his jacket pocket. “Here.” He tossed the bag toward Tuque who snatched it with one hand. “Spice it up and cook it. Make a burger or whatever, just give it a try before you turn your nose up at what might be the only solution to an impending global crisis. You know I’m right.”
Lyle slipped away, under the cover of night. Not even a single footfall registered in Tuque’s ears. But when the sound of the undead horde again greeted Tuque’s ears, the sense of loneliness returned. The second the realization hit him, so too did a blast of chilled night air. The flesh on Tuque’s arms stretched and shrank. Goose flesh danced from his ribcage to his fingertips and up his neck. He felt the weight of the bag in his hand. His fingers gave the contents a squeeze.
“Shit,” Tuque whispered.
He didn’t want to admit there was some fraction of logic to Lyle’s argument. The storage room would, at some point, be empty; when that happened, chaos and starvation would soon follow.
“Has it really come to this?” Tuque glanced at the bag, as he stepped back into the bar.
The band had the crowd worked into a fury like he’d never seen. Couples were swing dancing, women were up on tables showing off their best seductions. Within the walls of the Last Casket, the world outside was lost; all that existed was joy.
Kitty pumped her fist and then tossed up a devil-horn salute. The crowed offered the gesture back with a shout.
“We are…” Kitty called out.
“Kitty in a Casket,” the audience replied with gusto.
“The undead…”
“Will be rocked.”
Penny sneaked up behind Tuque and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Where did my lover run off to?”
Tuque spun in Penny’s arms and planted a kiss on her soft lips.
“Just needed some fresh air, my dear.”
Penny noticed the bag in Tuque’s hand.
“What’s this? A little smoke for later?”
“Nah,” Tuque looked away. “Just a new recipe someone wants me to try. I’m going to drop this off in the kitchen. Keep my spot warm.”
Penny smacked Tuque on the ass as he turned away. “I always do.”
*
Tuque was alone in the kitchen. He stood in front of the walk-in freezer and stared at the bag that weighed heavier on his conscience than it did in his hand. Finally, he pulled the door open and slipped inside. He grabbed the light pull-chain before the door closed behind him. A quick tug and the room was bathed in a dull glow. His breath escaped his lips in ragged puffs of white mist.
“What am I doing?” Tuque asked.
Before he changed his mind and rushed to the dumpster, Tuque deposited the bag behind a stack of boxes labeled ‘Emergency Use Only’.
The irony wasn’t lost on the man.
When he stepped back out of the walk-in, he leaned against the silver metal door and released a slow, guilty hiss. Tuque’s hand snaked back to the handle of the freezer and stopped. Before he changed his mind, he jerked his arm away and rushed out of the kitchen, back into the bar.
Kitty caught his eye and gave him the signal that she needed a break. Tuque rushed to the sound system and readied the canned music.
“Woo,” Kitty shouted. “You are wearing me out!”
The crowd laughed and applauded.
“We’ll be back for our final set after a short break. Don’t you dare go anywhere, or you’ll miss the final fright!”
The band stepped down from the platform and made their way backstage one last time.
Through the bar’s loudspeakers spilled an old song by The Fine Young Cannibals. Tuque winced at the accidental prophecy. His heart raced and his brain insisted he rush back to the sound system and change the song. Instead, he made his way toward the band – exerting every ounce of energy he had to not look guilty.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Kitty squealed when she saw Tuque. She raced to him and gave him a hug. “Sorry about the sweat.”
“You guys are amazing,” Tuque addressed the band. “Is there anything you need?”
“A thick, rare steak sounds about right,” said Todd Flash.
Tuque flushed and nearly fell backward.
“Whoa, dude, are you okay?” Tom jumped to aid the dizzy Tuque.
“I’m fine. It’s a little warm, I probably didn’t drink enough water today.”
Billy the Bat stepped up to Tuque and offered a hand. “Thank you for this opportunity. We were starting to think our music would be lost to the world, thanks to the Mengele Virus. You took a chance on us and we owe you big time.”
Tuque chuckled. “You’ve already paid me back. Do you hear those people out there? They’re alive, really alive, for the first time since I’ve owned this joint. I haven’t heard joy like that in a very long time. I’m honored that you guys call this your home.”
Billy pulled Tuque into a hug. The two men smacked at one another’s back and pulled apart, nodding.
“We’re about ready to hit the last set,” Kitty said to Tuque. “Have any requests?”
Tuque smiled. “Just knock ‘em dead.”
“You mean…undead,” laughed Mike.
“Come on guys, there are still a few pairs of socks we have to rock.”
With a few ‘Hell yeahs’ shouted, the band exited the break room. Tuque remained. The cheers of the audience was all he needed to know the band was already back on stage. As soon as the music started, Tuque dropped his full weight onto an old rickety couch. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back to let the previous moment drain from his memory.
“Cannibalism,” Tuque whispered. “We’d lose what little humanity remained.”
The door to the break room flew open and Penny stepped through.
“There you are. I really need your help. The crowd is working my ass off, and we both know it’s my best feature.”
Tuque stood. “One of your best, my dear. That rear is but one in a long line of fine assets.
ten | zomburger
Join my world and you will see
How sweet nightmares can be
I´ll perform my spooky show
There´s no return, you know
…Sweet Nightmares
Early morning. The band slept off the post-show celebration. A freight train of screamers could rail through the Last Casket and not one cat or kitten would be roused. It was a well-deserved, near-coma slumber.
In the kitchen, Tuque stood over a medium sauce pan. Blue flames licked out from under the stainless steel. On the prep board rested Lyle’s bag and a few shakers of spice. Tuque reached for the bag, but quickly retracted his arm. Reached for the bag, retracted his arm. Reach…retract.
“I can’t do this,” Tuque whispered. “I’m not Sweeney Todd.”
The bag opened, slightly, of its own volition.
“What the…” Tuque cautiously reached for the meat. Before his fingers made contact, the bag ceased to move.
Tuque sucked in a deep, shaky breath. Curiosity finally
won out and he rolled the paper bag down to reveal a sealed, plastic baggie inside. Tuque pulled the object d’horror out and let it drop to the cutting board. Inside the clear plastic was what looked like innocent, raw, sausage.
“Looks can be deceiving,” whispered Tuque.
He knew…there was nothing innocent about what lay on the well-loved board.
Again, curiosity smacked Tuque upside the head and he pulled open the seal of the bag. The smell of the meat wafted up to his nose.
Bloody.
Gamy.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Tuque whispered. “Soylent Green is zombies.”
He pulled the ball of meat from the bag and squeezed it until the ground human poured from between his fingers. For all intents and purposes, the meat looked and felt perfectly normal. If you had no idea how it came to be, you’d never know.
Tuque opened a can of spices and shook out a generous amount onto the cutting board. Another bottle of spices was upended…and a third. Finally, the ball of meat was dropped onto the board and rolled around. The sticky flesh picked up all of the spices and then pressed between Tuque’s palms to form a patty. Autopilot seemed to have taken control. Gone was the doubt and the drama. Now only existed the simplicity of cooking a gourmet burger.
When the patty hit the steel of the pan, the sizzle and pop punctured the veil of silence the late night/early morning hour had draped over the moment. Even though Tuque knew the meat was zombie, the smell the cooking flesh gave off was exquisite. Only the truest foody would spot the nuances of the aroma. To everyone else – it was a burger.
“Oh my God,” the voice came from the entryway to the kitchen. Tuque nervously turned to spot Billy the Bat standing in the entryway. “You’re making burgers.”
Billy stepped in beside Tuque and gave a great sniff.
“That smells like the best burger ever cooked. Please tell me this is first come, first serve.”
The idea struck Tuque immediately. Why not allow Billy to take the first bite? Sure the morality of the action was questionable, sure he could be sending an innocent man to an early undeath – but the goal must be to keep himself alive, whatever the cost.