“One of who?”
Gunner had been pushed far enough. If he was going to be murdered by an idiot like this punk kid, he wasn't going to die alone and he sure as hell wasn't going to die without a fight!
“Show yourself, you coward!” Gunner roared. His outburst knocked the anger from officers face, replacing it with confusion and a tinge of fear. What had started out as simple teasing was getting wildly out of control.
“This is why I didn't want you to go there,” the first officer said. “The captain has warned you about this before.”
“Shut up Andy,” the cop said. It was escalating too quickly. The second officer relaxed his posture a little, hoping the shift in body language would sooth Gunner some. “What are you looking at? You need help. You know that, right? You’ve lost all touch with reality, man.”
“Go to hell,” Gunner said, not taking his eyes off the second officer, not blinking. “Damn demon.”
“I feel sorry for you, buddy.”
“I think you’re one of them,” Gunner countered.
“One of who?”
“We're done here,” the first officer said, pulling his partner away.
Gunner kept his eyes locked on them. When they were just out of earshot he slumped over, fighting off tears as he let his mind take him back there, back to a world of death and blood and screams and sand.
CHAPTER NINE
Travis felt a little guilty as he stared at the photo collection he'd secretly amassed of his crush. There were shots of her crossing campus, shots from class, and a few bikini shots from the personal stash he'd acquired. It was more than a little creepy, he was well aware of that. It would be bad enough if he had taken all of them on his own, but he hadn't. The ugly truth of it was he'd gotten some of them by paying a guy to raid her dorm last year. That's how he'd gotten his favorite shot of her, the one in the string bikini by a pool somewhere down in sunny Florida. He kept promising himself he was going to get rid of his stash but when the time came to ditch all of it he'd chicken out. Once, in a moment of self-disgust, he'd wrapped all the photos in plastic bags, then taken them out in the trash, only to dig through the dumpster an hour later and retrieve them.
These are my only link to her, Travis thought. What else do I have at this point?
He swore he would get rid of them for good by the end of summer, that he'd burn them and bury the ashes along with his shame, but there he was again sitting in the semi-dark in the middle of his bed, obsessing harder than ever over a girl who he'd never officially met. It wasn't the first promise he'd broken to himself over her. It was just the latest. He'd swore to himself that he would man up and ask her out before the semester ended . . . and yet summer started and that didn't happen either. Whenever he got within fifty feet of her, his mouth just seemed to go dry at the same time his knees went weak. Was it fear of rejection? Fear of being ridiculed? He wasn't sure. Maybe both. He felt like he knew Gemma so well that they shared a special connection--and she didn't even know his name.
“You have no idea how perfect we'd be for each other” Travis muttered to her bikini photo, sliding the rest of the images back under his pillow. “I'd take you on the most romantic date of your life and you'd instantly fall in love. Oh Travis. You're the best. How did I ever live without you? That's what you'd say. And I'd say, I have no idea and . . .”
A loud banging on the door made Travis jump mid-sentence. Someone called out his name. He couldn't tell who it was.
“Travis McAnus. You in there?”
“Who is it?” Travis looked around for a place to hide his stash but there wasn't any time. The door was already swinging open. He couldn't risk trying to move them now so he sat back on them. Thank God he hadn't left the door ajar or they might have seen the whole thing! He'd never live that down. He quickly grabbed his copy of Being and Nothingness from the nightstand and pretended to be studying, slipping his string bikini Gemma shot into the back of the book.
Flynn, Garrett, and Vance marched in, all talking at once. Flynn had on a full face of makeup like a chick and a blonde wig.
“Guys! Guys! Guys!” Travis yelled until they quieted down. “What the fuck?”
“You sure do have a lot of crap,” Garrett said, swinging his big head around to take it all in. Travis had spent the last few years covering nearly every square inch of his room with posters and paraphernalia, alternating between zombies and movie star goddesses. Selma Hayek was nestled comfortably between Dawn of the Dead and Night of the Living Dead, while a breathtaking shot of Miranda Kerr wearing almost nothing and rolling around on warm sand in paradise was juxtaposed against a zombie Marilyn Monroe, eating out James Dean’s heart in black and white. His mom had commissioned a street artist to do that on the Venice Beach boardwalk during their vacation to Los Angeles. The guy who did it looked, and smelled, half dead himself. He practically ripped the twenty dollar bill out of his mom's hands, then whipped it out in less than five minutes of frantic scribbling. It had quickly grown to be Travis's favorite.
“Yeah,” Travis mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess. What do you want?”
Flynn stepped forward.
“Garrett and I need exhibitor badges to the Zombie Con. We're also doing the zombie walk, obviously, but he won't hand over his info unless it's directly to you. He's acting like a real faggot.”
Garrett immediately protested, talking over Flynn before he could say anything else.
“That's because I want to end up being in the parade this time,” he complained, “instead of having some homophobic riot cop shove me out of the way because I don't have the right badge.”
“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” Flynn flashed an angry glare at him. “Besides that was in Austin. This is Vegas. There are no rules here. People are going to be just filing in off the street with fucking oversized drinks in their fat hands and food crusted down the front of them.”
“And don't forget the escort fliers jammed in their overflowing pockets,” Vance said with a laugh.
Travis nodded, sagely taking it all in. Secretly he just wished they get the fuck out of his room. He'd loved the rowdy atmosphere of Thunderdome when he first moved in - but it had quickly faded as the months went by. He'd shacked up with Garrett who he knew from some undergrad classes at UNLV. The rent was unbelievably cheap, even before they added Parker to the mix. Parker, a star pitcher with a dark streak, spent most of his time out partying. Travis dug that. He'd been counting on that when they let him take over the extra room, the one that barely fit a normal sized bed. Parker was just looking for a place to get away every now and then, someplace off campus and away from the Frat house. He wasn't much like any jock Travis had ever met in his life.
“It's like having an invisible roommate,” Garrett said after the first month. Parker had crashed a handful of times and always left early in the morning. It wasn't until much later that he and Travis struck up a real friendship.
What Travis hadn't expected was that Garrett's boyfriend Flynn would be over pretty much every hour of the day. Travis didn't mind that Garrett was gay. Not at all. It's just that Flynn was a drama queen, blowing everything out of proportion. The few times Travis had hung out with Garrett alone thing had been cool. They'd watched football, drank beers, gone to a game on campus. Garrett was a mellow guy. Mix him with Flynn, and it was like he became another person altogether. It was like he was trying to act more gay, to prove something to Flynn. All of it gave Travis a headache under normal circumstances. Today as he literally sat on his deepest shame it was almost more than he could bear.
Living at Thunderdome had other unexpected consequences. There were always people over. No one knocked, they just dropped by your place unannounced and invited themselves in. If your door was locked it meant that you were out. Most people just left their front door ajar, letting friends and guests come in and out at will. Anything you wanted to keep got locked up or taken with you. Still crime was pretty low around Thunderdome, owing mostly to
being under the watchful eyes of your neighbors. You never knew who was watching you or what they might do if you tried to pull some shit. Kept things real chill. Travis liked that part, even if he hated having to lug his valuables with him everywhere he went.
For almost three years Travis had been trying to get Las Vegas to let him have a Zombie Walk. In every instance he'd come close then failed to meet the signature requirement. This year something had happened he'd never dreamed of in a million years. This year Asphyxia Stardust had taken up residence in Thunderdome, coming to UNLV to pursue a Masters in communications and bringing with her the first ever Zombie Con to Sin City.
“Vance? How'd they get you spun up in their spiderweb again?”
Vance shrugged his shoulders as both Flynn and Garrett turned on him.
“Well,” Vance began, looking beyond uncomfortable at being dragged into the whole thing. “All I know is, I was planning on degreasing an engine from a '67 Chevy this weekend but I got a call from Garrett that he was heading to grab some moonshine from Pyro, you know, from Satan's Disciples out in Barstow? Guess he was on a run and ended up dropping through Paradise to see an old lady. I figured if I couldn't get the engine clean with it I could always sell it to tourists. It's kinda a long story. So the next thing I knew we picked up Flynn from the Strip I was here at Thunderdome. Tell you the truth they've been making out at nearly every stop light on the way over. I'm actually glad they're fighting. It was starting to make me squirm, all that gay PDA.”
Flynn laughed and Garrett shot him a deadly glare that quieted him back down.
“And,” Travis prompted.
“And that's it,” Vance said. “Ain't nothin' more to tell brother.”
“So where did all that makeup come from then?” Travis stood up and walked around Flynn who puffed up his chest to be admired like a proud peacock.
“I did it myself,” he confessed. “We were trying to get a cowboy to kiss me and take a picture. You know how much I love messing with the straights.”
“You're going to get yourself hurt one day,” Travis chastised.
“All I needed was the wig and a tight pair of jeans,” Flynn said ignoring the warning. “They had their hands all over me. They loved me you know.”
“I'm sure they did,” Garrett scoffed. “All that was missing was three sets of tits glued on you. They're drunken sheep out there.”
“Oh no,” Flynn said, growing deadly serious. “You've got it all wrong. Summer is over honey baby. It's now officially game on out there now.”
“He's right,” Vance chimed in, nodding his head.
“We've got a whole new influx of idiots out there,” Flynn continued. “Lots of money, lots of nice suits. It's a higher class of people than the old hicks with jean shorts and lowbrow ironic t-shirts wearing American flag baseball caps. And there wasn't a single chunti ass chola with her eyebrows Sharpie penned on handing out strip club announcements in sight!”
“You had me up until you said that,” Travis chuckled. “So they loved you huh? What is that you've got on?”
“Smoky eyes,” Flynn said with a wink. “I've spent hours perfecting the look. By this time tomorrow my gender will be so bent I'll have everything with a pulse looking to climb into my sweet little pink hole and love me.”
“Let's take it down a notch,” said Garrett in a sullen tone before turning to Travis. “There seems to be a pretty big and relatively obvious influx of zombie fans out there as well. I'd say most of the convention folk have started to arrive by now. By tomorrow night's walk we could have thousands in the streets.”
“Man I hope so,” Travis said. “I've been trying to get this off the ground for so long. It would suck ass if only a couple hundred turned up. That's why I'm counting on the general public joining in. I've got volunteers with zombie makeup posted all along the route to transform the living into the walking dead.”
“Does that really work?” Vance asked.
“I don't know,” Travis said. “It's never been done before. That's what makes it so cool.”
Travis smirked as Flynn approached him.
“Show us the map,” he said, putting a hand on Travis's shoulder. “I want to take a look at the route again. I can't remember which streets we take.”
Panic shot through Travis. The map was all the way across the room in his desk drawer. If he got up they might see what he was sitting on. He'd have to explain the pictures. There would be no way to avoid it. Then again the last thing he wanted was Flynn pawing through everything in there. He had a little black book full of passwords to fake twitter and Yahoo accounts he'd created during an online raid party from the night before. That would be almost as hard to explain as his coveted stash. They couldn't have come in at a worse time. His only hope was to distract them until they left. He needed a good diversion, or at least an excuse, but in the heat of the moment nothing seemed to come to him.
“Why can't we go over it in the morning before the parade?” It was a weak defense and he knew it. The minute the words were out, he wished he could take them back. The tone was off. He sounded like he was hiding something.
“There's going to be a lot going on and I want to know what the plan is,” Flynn said, eying him suspiciously.
“I'm not sure I have a copy on me,” Travis lied. “The route is listed online though, right on the front of the site.”
“Okay,” Flynn said. “Then let's fire up your laptop and take a look.”
“Not right now,” Travis said, trying to think of a good reason. “I'm pretty tired. I was actually going to take a nap before you turds came barging in.”
“What's really going on McAnus?” Flynn gave him the hard stare.
“Yeah,” Garrett joined in. “What are you hiding?”
There it was, the moment he was hoping to avoid. An accusation had been put forward. He could feel three sets of eyeballs turning to him now. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs like a high pitched siren until they had to leave or their eardrums would burst. He'd never wished to have superpowers so badly before in all his life.
I'd be willing to sell my soul right now for telekinetic powers, he thought. All I'd have to do is move them out of the room and close the door.
They all stared at him as if to say, ‘well…come on!’ Finally, Travis couldn't take it anymore.
“I don't need this shit. You can all go to hell!” He snapped. A dirty leer crossed Flynn's face.
“What were you really looking at when we came in?”
If they hadn't been interested before, they were now. Garrett and Vance crowded around the bed, closing in on him. Travis protectively leaned over his book.
“Knock it off,” he scowled, looking more like an angry wet cat than a threat.
“Oh, it must have been good,” Flynn continued. “Something naughty, like gay porn.”
“Why is that the first place you always go?” Garrett asked, rounding on him. “You think everyone is looking at gay porn all the time.”
“Because they are,” Flynn leered. “Usually. Travis didn't flinch when I said it so that's probably not why he's freaking out about getting caught.”
“Unless it's pictures of Garrett and he don't want you to find out” Vance countered.
“Underage Japanese school girls? Tentacle porn? Oh I know, German shit porn.” Each salacious suggestion from his lips seemed to fire Flynn up more than the last.
“That's not his style,” Garrett laughed. “Knowing him it's probably something lame like a girl dressed up as a porno Wonder woman.”
“Did you hide it in the book?”
“I'm warning you,” Travis reiterated in a low growl. “Back off!”
“He was probably just jerking one out to something gory,” Vance said, “like a dead girl.” Travis's stomach churned at the suggestion.
“Yeah,” Garrett snidely laughed. “Or maybe some Tom of Finland art, right Flynn?”
“Whatever it is, it's gotta be good for him to act like this,” Flynn sa
id, loving the attention. He lunged at Travis and grabbed the book, passing it to Garrett. Anxiety raced through Travis like wildfire. If they opened that book up, he'd never hear the end of it. If he got up they'd find the mother lode. He was screwed!
Brains, thought Travis, not brawn. That’s how you’ll win. Think of something! Think!
“I’m warning you,” he said as he stopped resisting. “As the official moderator of Zombie Walk Vegas I will bar you from both the event and the convention if you open that book! I swear to Christ!”
“How are you going to keep anyone out of a zombie walk?” Vance laughed. “Good luck with that empty threat bro. There's gonna be a thousand people out in the streets. You said so yourself.”
“Oh but I thought Max was the official last word on the convention,” Flynn said, brushing past the first bluff to get to the one that mattered.
Travis turned a shade of puce.
“If it wasn't for her,” Flynn continued, milking the moment for all it was worth, “we wouldn't even be having the Zombie Walk in the first place, now would we?”
“That's not true,” Travis bellowed. “Tell them, Vance!”
Vance shifted uncomfortably back and forth, still trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone.
“I don't know, man. Leave me out of it.”
“What happened every time you asked?” Flynn sneered at Travis with willful defiance. “They blew you off. Then along comes fine ass Max, with her Asphyxia Stardust cosplay show and legions of male followers and all of a sudden the city council were falling all over themselves to let our tiny little insignificant town join in the undead fun.”
“That's not true,” Travis roared, knowing full well it was.
“It isn't?” Flynn could see he'd won. He leaned in. “They practically gave that little girl the key to the city, didn't they?”
“Garrett's right,” Travis said. “You’re way too overly dramatic.”
“Thank you,” said Garrett, sounding exasperated. “It's like the Flynn show all the time over here.”
“We are co-event sponsors,” said Travis. “End of story, bro.”
The Rising Dead Page 8