The Zombie Playground

by Brian Rowe

  “A hundred—” Paul stopped himself. “A while.”

  Crispin picked up his golf bag and stepped toward Paul. The boy—a whole foot shorter than the vampire—looked up in total astonishment. “I think you’re my hero.”

  “What?”

  “You’re really good,” the middle schooler said. “I wanna be like you.”

  Paul seemed embarrassed by the boy’s comment. “Uhh, no you don’t.”

  “I want your life.”

  “Trust me, kid,” he said. “You don’t want my life.”

  Paul picked up his clubs and started walking down the fairway. Crispin wasn’t backing away. Short, rail thin, with a face close to Colin’s, but with dirty blond hair instead of brown, he was definitely curious about who this Paul was and where he came from.

  “Do you practice every day?” Crispin said.

  “I haven’t practiced in a while, actually.”

  “Have you ever gotten a hole-in-one before?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what an albatross is?”

  Paul shook his head and pointed forward. “Go hit your ball.”

  “OK! Wish me luck!”

  Paul didn’t say a word. He sighed with relief when the boy raced across the fairway and finally left him alone.

  “FORE!” Ash shouted.

  Paul turned to his left just in time to feel a golf ball slam against his gut. He fell back against the fairway.

  “Oh my God!” Ash shouted, racing forward with a five-iron in one hand and his bag in the other. “Oh my God, Paul! Are you all right?”

  He sat up and brushed the grass off. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “No.”

  Ash dropped his bag and club on the ground and ran up to him. He pulled up on Paul’s shirt and inspected his stomach. “You really are pale, aren’t you,” Ash said.

  Paul didn’t say a word; he just glared.

  “But you’re not hurt. I don’t see a puncture wound or anything.” Ash dropped the shirt back down. “I guess I should’ve known. Vampires need a lot more than a golf ball to the hip to take them down. Am I right?”

  “Whoa, whoa, what are you saying?” Paul said. “Are you saying you did that on purpose?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Hey guys!” Crispin shouted, waving from up ahead. “We both hit! It’s Paul’s turn!”

  Paul and Ash started walking forward, side by side. They didn’t say anything at first, but then Ash started to ramble.

  “If there’s one sport that needs a truly great movie, it’s golf. Don’t you think?”

  Paul didn’t reply. He kept walking toward his ball. Ash couldn’t tell if Paul was trying to ignore him or trying to focus on his next shot. But he kept talking, anyway.

  “I mean, people will say it’s Caddyshack, which, I agree, is a classic. But it’s no Rocky, you know? No Field of Dreams. Golf doesn’t have that great inspirational Oscar movie. Not yet anyway. I think most people, at least those who don’t play it, equate golf with boredom, so all the films made about golf are always so lackluster. Like The Legend of Bagger Vance. Like The Greatest Game Ever Played. They’re OK, but could be so much better.”

  Paul nodded but didn’t offer anything more.

  “I think what really needs to be made, that’s never been made in the history of motion pictures, is a movie that blends golf and horror. Wouldn’t that be so cool? I think it would have traces of comedy in it—I mean, it would have to—but it could also be scary. Look at all this raw land out here, just waiting for a good chase scene.”

  Paul approached his ball. He glared at Ash. “Are you done talking now? Or are you gonna talk geek to me all the way to the freaking putting green?”

  “I am not talking geek.”

  “Aren’t you? I don’t mean in a bad way. But you are, you know. You’re a movie geek.”

  “So? What’s wrong with that?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. But you could spend less time shoving your movie opinions down my throat and more time trying to beat me in today’s tournament.”

  Ash scowled at Paul and took a step back. “Beating you today? Fine, then. It would be my pleasure.”

  “I’m ahead of you by nine,” Paul said. “Good luck, shrimp.”

  Ash shrugged, then smiled boastfully. “You’re going down, vampire boy. I’m saving my best… for last.”

  Paul glared at Ash as he took a practice swing, then hovered over his ball. He smacked his lips together, and brought his four-iron above his head.

  “I promise,” Ash said.

  Paul’s club collided with the ball, and Ash watched with glee as Paul’s club managed to fly farther down the fairway than the ball.

  “Hey! That’s cheating!” Paul shouted, marching up to Ash like he might punch him, or worse, rip through his throat with a swipe of his fangs. “You can’t talk in someone’s back swing! That’s against the rules!”

  Ash shrugged. “Sorry. Must have forgot.”

  Paul pushed against Ash’s chest. “What the hell is your problem, dude?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “You’ve had a problem with me since day one. All I’ve ever been is kind to you!” Paul pushed him again.

  “Kind, huh? The way you’re being kind to me right now?”

  “Hey!” Martin shouted in the distance. “What’s going on over there?”

  The geek and the vampire paid the man no attention.

  “You hate me,” Paul said. “You’re afraid of me and you hate me. Why?”

  “Don’t quote Planet of the Apes in front of me, dickwad. As you said before… I’m the movie geek, remember?”

  “There you go again. Hiding behind your pathetic movie obsession. Talk to me like a man, Ash. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I would talk to you like a man. If you were a man.”

  “Hey! Take that back!”

  Ash stood still for a moment, clearly summoning up his courage. He finally stormed forward and gave Paul a little push of his own. “I don’t like you, Paul. I don’t want you here! I’m Brin’s friend! I’ve been her friend since kindergarten! Two’s company, three’s a crowd, and you’re crowding things up, vampire boy!”

  Paul grinned. He stared down at his four-iron, and then veered his eyes back to Ash. “I know what this is about. It makes perfect sense.”

  “What does?”

  He took a step forward. “You love her.”

  The color drained from Ash’s face, like he had been prepared for Paul to say anything but that. “What?”

  “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You’re madly, wildly, head-over-freaking-heels in love with that girl. And you don’t like me because I’m stepping on your territory.”

  Ash shook his head, slow at first, then fast enough to make anyone around him assume he was convulsing. “No! Gross! That’s so wrong I don’t even know where to begin! Brin and I are like family. We’ve known each other our whole lives. I don’t like her in that way!”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Paul said. “You love her. You want her all to yourself. And you want me gone.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “I said, no!”

  Ash grabbed the sand wedge from his bag and struck Paul across the face. It wasn’t a hard strike, but after wiping a bead of sweat from his eyelashes, Ash saw the long, diagonal cut on Paul’s right cheek, and the thin, black blood streaming down to his neck. Ash couldn’t believe it: for the first time, he saw the red glow of all those Bodie vampires shining out of Paul’s scary eyes.

  “You hit me,” Paul said.

  Ash waited to get a club slammed against his side, but Paul had another idea in mind.

  Paul threw his club down, leapt toward Ash, and knocked him down against the fairway.

  “Oh my God!” As
h said. “What are you—”

  But Ash wasn’t able to finish his question. He opened his eyes, his mouth, and his hands in horror, as Paul crouched down and clamped his sharp white fangs around Ash’s neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Are Paul and Ash playing nice back there?” Anaya said, after chipping onto the seventh hole green from the bunker. She landed her ball ten feet from the pin.

  “I hope so,” Brin said, trying to find her proper stance against the hill that led up to the green. She grabbed her sand wedge and took a few practice swings.

  “Are you gonna hit sometime today?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  Brin had hit her drive over the intimidating lake but came up short of the green. Hole seven at Macabre was a short par three, but she was going to have to struggle with a tough up and down to walk away with a par.

  She jumped up one more time to see the pin placement and then focused on her shot. Brin prayed for the best, then chipped away. She immediately ran up the hill and watched with relief as her Titleist 3 rolled halfway across the green, stopping a few yards away from the pin.

  “Nice job,” Anaya said, “but my shot was better.”

  “Shut up. We’re still tied.”

  “Not if I make this putt!”

  Colin had hit three shots in the water and ultimately decided to sit out the hole. He stood on the cart path, frustrated, his eyes glued to a game on his cell phone, like he had already acquiesced to defeat. Tristan was the last to chip onto the green, and his ball unfortunately kept rolling thirty feet past the hole.

  “OK, Mr. Tristan,” Anaya said. “You’re out.”

  “I know.”

  “You want the pin in? Or—”

  “No. Keep it in.” He glanced wearily at Brin. She quickly recognized the fear on his face.

  “What is it, Tristan?”

  “Uhh… this is… this is it…”

  “This is what?”

  “This is the hole… the green… where it happened.”

  Anaya took a step forward and crossed her arms in confusion. “Where what happened?” She turned to Brin. “What’s he talking about?”

  Brin stared at Tristan, then locked eyes with Anaya. “Tristan claims he saw some kind of creature pull a friend of his down into the ground, right here, on this very putting green.”

  Anaya didn’t seem phased by the supernatural suggestion. She looked at Tristan. “When?”

  “Two weeks ago,” he said. “I’m not crazy, I saw it.”

  “We’re not saying you’re crazy,” Brin said. “We’ve seen some crazy things lately, too.” She lost herself in her own head for a moment, then turned to face Tristan. “Wait, did you say two weeks ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  She turned to Anaya. “That’s the same time we were in Bodie.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know.” Brin kneeled down and ran her fingers along the ground.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Anaya said.

  “I’m checking.” Then Brin leaned her left ear against the green. She pressed her hand against her right ear and tried to listen for anything unusual.

  “This is ridiculous,” Anaya said. “There’s nothing down there. We’re on a golf course! What evil creatures would live underneath a boring ass golf course?”

  Brin crawled her way back up to her feet. She shrugged her shoulders at Tristan. “I don’t hear anything. You sure it was this hole?”

  “It was this hole. Percy reached into the hole to grab his ball—and he never came up.”

  Tristan’s face had turned into pale white stone. Brin thought he was going to throw up.

  “This is so stupid,” Anaya said. “This isn’t Bodie! There are no vampires in Grisly!”

  “We don’t know that,” Brin said.

  “And besides, say Tristan’s buddy was pulled through the ground. Wouldn’t there be a big dirty mess over here? Look! The putting green’s in perfect condition!”

  Yes, Brin thought. As was my father’s grave when I returned.

  “What’s going on over there?” Colin said, walking toward the green. “Why are you guys taking so long?”

  “You said you’ve played this course before, right, Colin?” Anaya said.

  He nodded. “Twice.”

  “Have you seen any vampires roaming the fairways?”

  He stared at her, dumbstruck. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  Anaya smiled at Brin. “You see?”

  Brin wasn’t terrified like Tristan, but she wasn’t as skeptical as Anaya. She had seen a yellow hand a few minutes ago, after all.

  She turned to her right to see a row of tombstones beyond the black fence.

  “We really are close to Grisly Cemetery,” Brin said.

  “So what?” Anaya said. The girl was getting antsy.

  “The proximity… to all those dead bodies…”

  “Oh come on, Brin! You’re going mental!” Anaya shouted. She pointed at Tristan. “You gonna putt or what?”

  He didn’t nod or shake his head. He just stood there, like his feet were magnets and the putting green was the face of a refrigerator.

  “All right, fine,” Anaya said. “I’m gonna make my par.”

  She pulled the pin out of the hole and threw it down against the green. She didn’t take two seconds to consider her shot. She knocked the ball straight into the hole.

  “Sweet,” Anaya said, reaching for her ball. “You better make your putt, Brin.”

  Anaya dropped her hand into the hole, and Tristan screamed.

  “I can’t look!” the boy bellowed, his eyes closed.

  Anaya grabbed her ball and turned toward him. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  He opened his eyes and sighed with relief. No strange yellow creature had emerged. Anaya’s hand was still firmly in tact.

  “See?” Anaya said, waving at him, then pointing at all five of her fingers. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go.”

  Tristan’s hands were still shaking, but he managed to hold his putter with a firm grip and commit to a stellar stroke. Tristan’s ball went straight for the hole.

  “Whoa, this could go in,” Brin whispered.

  “Has a good shot,” Anaya said.

  The ball hit the edge of the cup, but rolled out and stopped an inch to the left.

  Tristan collapsed to the ground in disappointment. “Damn it!”

  “Wow! That was so close!” Brin said. She gave the boy a short round of applause. “Good effort, good effort.”

  “OK, Brin,” Anaya said. “You’re up.”

  Brin’s putt to make a par was a lot easier than Tristan’s, but infinitely harder than Anaya’s easy up and down. Brin took a quick walk around the cup to see if there would be any fading to the left or right. She didn’t see any weird slopes. It looked like this was straight in.

  Brin took her stance, brought her putter back only an inch, and plugged the ball straight at the hole. She smiled as she watched it drop in.

  “Ha-ha!” Brin said, pointing her putter at Anaya like a shotgun. “Take that!”

  “All luck,” Anaya said, shaking her head and storming angrily off the green. “I’m gonna get you on the next hole!”

  “Yeah. Sure you will.”

  Brin grabbed her Titleist 3 from the cup and walked to the edge of the green. She turned around to see Colin back on his cell phone, standing to the left of the bunker.

  That guy had so much confidence earlier, Brin thought, but at the end of it all, it turns out he’s nothing but a schmuck with an ego who can’t make a par to save his life.

  “Tap your putt in, Tristan,” Anaya said, “and put the pin back in, too, will you?” She tossed her putter into her bag and grabbed her three-iron for the eighth hole tee box.

  “OK,” he said.

  Tristan made his bogey putt, but he didn’t reach down into the cup to retrieve his ball. He just stood there.

  Anaya shook her head. “What are
you doing?”

  “I don’t want to put my hand down there.”

  “Then leave it! I don’t care!”

  Tristan bit down on his tongue and glanced at Brin, who nodded to him. You can do it, her eyes said.

  He nodded back, then, in a flash, crouched down and grabbed his ball from the cup. He returned to his feet and smiled.

  “I did it,” he said. “Phew! I did it! I got the ball!”

  “Woo hoo,” Anaya said sarcastically. “Yay for you.”

  “Maybe it was just a nightmare,” Tristan said, grabbing the pin and putting it back in the cup. “Maybe Percy didn’t disappear after all—”

  A hand burst through the ground, but it didn’t erupt through the cup this time.

  Brin turned to her left just in time to see a huge, yellow, rotting creature emerge from the sand trap and latch onto Colin’s torso.

  “Oh my God!” Colin screamed. “What the—”

  Another creature jumped out of the sand, and then a third appeared at the edge of the lake. Brin and Anaya didn’t scream; their mouths dropped open, but no sound came out. A fourth creature crashed up through the green and grabbed onto Tristan’s leg. He fell hard against the ground and screamed.

  “Brin! Anaya!” Tristan shouted. “Help me!”

  Brin looked at Tristan for a second but then quickly turned back to Colin. A fourth, a fifth, a sixth creature leapt on top of him, and before she could extend a hand to help the poor boy, she watched in terror as the creatures pulled him down into the bunker and started ripping through his flesh.

  “Oh my God,” Anaya said.

  “Oh my God!” Brin screamed. “It’s not vampires at all! It’s… it’s…”

  “I know!”

  “IT’S ZOMBIES!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brin screamed as another zombie burst out of the ground right behind her and lashed onto her hair. The yellow creature, this one female, and stark naked, started tugging her head back. But Brin wasn’t about to get eaten; she brought both of her hands up and performed a quick double punch against the zombie’s face.

  Two more creatures emerged from the lake, and three more rose out of the bunkers. Brin didn’t stick around to say hello. She grabbed Anaya’s hand and started running back toward the tee box.

  “See!” Tristan said, kicking the nearby zombie away and running fast off the green. “See! I wasn’t crazy!”