Zombie Waltz (Book 2)

by Lynn E. Main

  Jill shouts. “Wait!” The driver, Patrick, hits the brakes and theyall jerk forward. There are zombies spilling over the buses now and crashing down behind and on top of the little school bus, struggling to get through the totally jammed street.

  The bus is being swarmed. Patrick and Mr. Petrova jump out and turn pistols toward the on-coming bus. It is honking and swerving like crazy and near the front of the line, contacts one of the yellow giants and swings wide into a small tree that was planted near the sidewalk. The bus comes to a stop there and smoke or steam begins to pour out from under the hood.

  In only moments, the side door jerks open and a big tough looking teenager carrying a small teenaged girl jumps off. They are followed almost as one unit by another smaller teen. Mr. Petrova and Patrick wave for them frantically and they sprint only paces ahead of the swarm. Jill jumps up and pushes open the side door then screams at Kathy to move and the three teens hurriedlypile in. As fast as Jill can swing the door shut the zombies are hitting it. Patrick had already reinstalled himself in the driver’s seat and Mr. Petrova in the passenger’s seat as the van launches forward. In moments, they are well ahead of the volumes of living dead grappling onward. A minute later they are out of sight.

  The Sarasota Shakedown

  Helooks at me as if he didn’t hear so I repeat, “We don’t want any more trouble, mister.”

  “I don’t think you’re too bright, boy!” He screams and reaches across, grabbing my arm before I can pull it away. “I don’t really give a fuck what you want…you got trouble!”

  It happens in a blur. The barrel of Faith’s shotgun appears out of the driver’s portal between us, pointed right at his head. He jerks back and then there is the all-too-familiar deafening explosion from the tip of the barrel, like a torch erupting from the gun. He lets go of my arm and propels backwards, his head whippingback. The light and heatoff the end of the gun sends me spiraling away. I bounce off the driver’s side rear passenger door and end up haphazardly sprawled on the street behind the car.

  It takes several moments before I can get my bearings. I stand and attempt to rejoin the confusion. Scrambling bikers rush from overturned bikes to help their friend. The two men behind the car run right over the top of me. The latter of the two, the shorter bald man from the high school quad, smacks the rear glass of the Cadillac with a tire iron. I lunge, toppling him just as Nick opens the back door. With Kim’s gun in hand, he comes out firing. I crawl onto the man, punching, kicking and scratching the whole way up him.

  I collect several blows to my face and the back of my head, along with an array of body shots mostly aimed at my midsection and ribs. I ignore them all. In the frenzy, I get my hands around his throat. This man is very ugly. He also seems to be made of steel cables under his skin instead of muscles. Every second I grapple with him, his blows sting worse and he is harder to hold onto. He seems to enjoythe fight. He never cries out in pain, but shouts with zeal borderingon joyeverytime he lands a good shot on me.

  We roll beside the car, locked together, each one attempting to choke the other. The bald man pokes at my eyes. I get ahold of his cheek with my thumb and pry him away. He smashes the side of his fist into my cheekbone, which loosens my grip and I fall away. He has murder in his eyes. The fear releases me from the dizzy spell and I kick at his groin, hitting his knee. When he bends, I bury my fist in his jaw. He comes up head first and hits me in the chin. I bite down on his head and scratch at his face with an intensity meant to kill. I am snarling like a mad dog. The wrestling match goes on for so long that Ibegin to panic, wondering if the rest of these thugs have overtaken Faith and the others. My distraction gives him an advantage and my thoughts are interrupted by a knee to the face.

  I am stunned, blinded, and breathless; now very sorry that I attacked him, because I am certain that I am going to lose. He administers another knee to my face while I am stunned and then another to my head, knocking me near senseless and sending me flailing backwards to gather more road rash on my back. I look up and see him holding the tire iron up over his head with both hands. He is just beginning to wind up his swing to crack my skull when his head suddenly snaps back. There is a thump sound and he crumbles in front of me. I have a moment of repose while his life’s blood leaks out of the hole in his head into a large crimson pool.

  I look around and see that Nick is wrestling with RJ. Two others, the one that had been with RJ and the fat guy are shielded behind their bikes while Chris aims down on them with his scope and fires, nearly hitting the men. Chris stands on the right side of the car, somewhat protected behind the door. He looks almost peaceful, holding out his rifle and taking measured shots. He fires. He fires again, but he misses.

  Gunfire rains over us. I duck and close my eyes until the shooting stops. Iam stunned. The gunfire came from behind the carand behind me. Though I feel no pain I am certain at first that I must be shot. I move my eyes because my body and head are frozen. I have lost sight of Kim and Faith, and can’t see Jason either.

  The shot that killed the bald biker had to have come from behind the caddy, not in front of it where everyone else should be. I turn around and search for my savior, although my head feels like bursting.

  I am very dizzy and fear that I may vomit at any moment. When I tryto move, the world spins. Isee no one behind and turn backto the fight. The riders on the far side of the car are hunched behind their bikes. One is movingtowards Nick who is lying nearRJ as if theyboth knocked each other out. Suddenly, Nick is up and moving towards the fat biker. I watch him lift his gun and hear the fire but for a moment I can see only black.

  I am so dizzy that I almost go down again. I dive for the trunk of the Cadillac and swipe my arms across it, trying to get a grip on the smooth surface with my blood covered hands. I look across the top of the car at Chris. He has stepped out from behind the car door and lowered his gun. He has turned back facing me but looks past me. The silver haired biker is lying over his bike. I look back toward Nick who is now lying on his face, across the ditch near the tree line.

  As I watch, gasping, the fat biker sits up slowly and looks back and forth. He looks surprised and then scrambles to his feet and dashes right past me, pickingup a motorcycle. Iwheelaround and leanup against the trunk attempting to wipe the sweat from my brow and block off the evening sun so I can see back down the road. The sun is causing glare and the sweat on my face gets into my eyes; I wince. The street behind us seems clear all the way back under the overpass.

  There is no one back there. The fat man mounts his bike and speeds away north, veering onto the 86 which circles around the bay into Tampa.

  As the screamingengine of the motorcycle diminishes, all is silent. After a few moments leaning on the trunk, I feel a warm hand on myside. “Are you okay? Were you shot?”

  “No…” I moan. “…just hit my head on the ground.” I consider Faith’s bright blue eyes. There is black on her cheek and I reach up to wipe it away, instead smearing a not small amount of blood there. “Shit…s…s…orrrrr…eey.” I’m aware that my speech is slurring, but uncertain as to why.

  “Can you stand? Will you be alright here for a second? I need to check on the others.” She questions, ignoring the blood.

  “Yes…go. I’m okay.” Ilie.Myhead is poundingand spinning and I am sure that I am on the verge of collapse. I clutch harder to the trunk leaning more of my weight there. She doesn’t take the time to argue with me about it anyway. She just pushes her cheek up against mine.Squishing her nose into my forehead, she kisses it and whispers, “I love you, Les.”

  She runs over to where Nick is lying in the ditch. Kim and Chris stand at the edge of the road, looking down at him. Kim wears a worried grimace with her arms folded and her head tilted, whimpering. It reminds me of exactly how she looked, standing with Faith over Kevin for the last time.

  “I need help with him…help me roll him over.” Faith says to the two of them from Nick’s side. Theydo as she instructs without hesitation. I stand here, or more
accurately lean, just watching. My lungs feel as if they are on fire and I struggle to breathe. Jason has joined the rest, now circled over the top of Nick.

  Ilook back across the scene at the dead. I cannot see the manlying next to Nick well, but I doubt if he is alive. Another is splayed out atop an overturned motorcycle. He has a skunk’s trail of red blood running down the middle of his silver hair. The man that Faith pulled the shotgun on is slumped by the fender in front of the wide-open driver’s door. Though I can only see his legs, I assume his head is blown off until I hear him moan.

  Fuck You All

  I can’t stand, it makes me too sick. I try anyway because I need to check on the guy laying up against the front fender. As soon as I push off the car, I bend over and vomit behind the Cadillac. It’s yellow bile. There is literally nothing else in my stomach. After dry heaving for a moment, I attempt to stand again. Ido feel better. Not bymuch, but Ithink I canwalk on my own.

  I take a step forward along the side of the car, holding on for balance. I hear a loud and gurgling cough just past the door. Balling my fists, I look through the window. The man had half of his hair burnt off by the blast, along with several deep cuts in his face where the buckshot scathed him.

  I take another step, “You son of a…” His voice comes floating up; choked and liquid with blood and saliva.

  “Mister, you don’t know me, but you don’t want to finish that sentence.” I look closely at the man slumped on the other side of the open driver’s door. I shut it and approach him. He is sitting on his feet, lying back with his knees folded under him.

  “You are the one. You must be because you are so fucking ugly. You shot myboy. You are all going to die for this.” He spits as I lean over him.

  “ Your boy was trespassing where he wasn’t welcome.” I reach down and pull his revolver out of his loose grip. There is a hole where his ear should be. His right nostril is also pretty much missing. I don’t know if he will lose that eye or not, but I guess he will never getto find out what life is like being ugly like me. He looks at me with his one good eye. It is deep and black-looking. The other is punctured and bulging but it seems as if he may be looking at me out of it too.

  “What is your name?” I ask.

  “Fuck you…you fucking ugly bastard!”

  “I know you probably won’t find a mirror any time soon but you aren’t exactly looking so hot yourself. Now, what is your fucking name?” I ask again.

  “What the fuck do you care?”

  “ If I’m about to kill you I just want to know your name.” I stand and aim his gun down at him. Icock the hammer back on it and cautiously touch the trigger.

  “Les, wait.” Faith says from behind me. I don’t turn around; I don’t dare.

  “He was going to kill us. One of them got away. If we let him live he may…”

  “I know…”

  “No. You don’tunderstand, we have to finish him. Iknow he looks like shit but if we let him live, he could follow us again. There could be more of them. That other guy…”

  “I know…listen…” “It’s just…”

  “Les listen!” Faith shouts. I look back at her, quickly. She is right behind me off my left shoulder. She has her hand held out. This time I am not so slow on the uptake. I hand her the gun and stumble to do it. I am woozyand seeingdarkspots before myeyes. Ifeel like Imightpuke again. She shoulders up next to me and points the gun down at the biker. “I want you to sit down. You look terrible, Les and you are bone pale. I will take care of this guy.”

  “I’m okay.” I fight the urge to lean my head on her shoulder. “What’s your name?” She asks him. Her mouth is drawn tight and her eyes squinting. Her eyebrows are more arched than I have ever seen. She has never looked at me like she is looking at him now, and I am glad for it.

  “What if I don’t want to tell you?” He asks and then spits blood.

  “Then you will die without a name.” She says.

  “You shot me in the face with a shotgun. Are you crazy, bitch? I am going to…”

  “Self-defense” Faith says shrugging. With that, the fire seems to go out of the man. He looks like he is dying. Blood is pouring out of holes in his head; it may not even be necessary to shoot him.

  “Is my brother dead?” he asks.

  Faith nods her head at him.

  “You fucking little bitch…you killed my brother…you are going to pay.” Ilook around. Theyall sortof look the same to me; greasy, leather clad, drunken, redneck assholes.

  “I think that is him over there.” Faith answers. He is lying on the far side of the car, slumped over a motorcycle.

  “And Jackie…”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, you know…the little bald gremlin lookin’ fuck…” He gags and chokes on the words.

  “I think I got him, too…behind the car.” I say. I didn’t get him, he got me. But somehow…someone must have got him…because he sure is dead. Shot in the head, dead. I laugh out loud. Both Faith and the man look at me, strangely. He twists his body looking back and forth as if he is starting to panic.

  “What about my boy?”

  “Which is?” I start. “The one you shot.” He snaps, spitting.

  “I don’t even have a gun.”

  “At the school!” He growls.

  I look over by Nick who is now sitting up and seems relatively unharmed. I am glad for that. “Yeah…he’s dead too.” I reply, looking back down at the burnt faced biker by the fender.

  “Who killed my boy?”

  “We did. It doesn’t matter who.” I say. I don’t know who did. Someone shot them all it looks like, but who? Faith points the gun down at the biker’s chest.

  “You killed myboy. Well bitch, then you better finish me off. You better kill me now…because if you don…”

  Faith shoots. The man’s eyes widen. He breathes in and out, “Rod…my name…its Rodney Schleck...”

  “The fat one got away.” Faith says, as if disappointed.

  Rodney starts to laugh which makes him choke and spit more blood. “Shaun Titus, ah God it would figure. Well then, fuck you all.” He says, continuing to laugh and choke. I turn away from him. I really don’t care if a dying man insults me but the blood coming out of his mouth is starting to make me feel sick again.

  Faith stands by him for a while and then he grows quiet. I go back to the trunk of the car and resume leaning. I keep thinking my head will straighten out but it just doesn’t.

  Retch

  Faith follows me. She nudges me in the ribs, which hurts bad. I can’t help but wince and cry out from the pain. My head will not stop spinning but I look over and smile big for her and put an arm around her. She squeezes my chest and I think I am going to black out for a second.

  She doesn’t seem to notice, which is off character for her. It is also off character for her to take the gun and shoot the guy. I know the guy needed shot. If she hadn’t, I would have but I still can’t believe she did it. “Are you okay?” I finally ask.

  She turns to me, considering my eyes. She is smiling at first but then stops. “How did the bald one get killed? As you pointed out, you don’t have a gun.”

  I look where she is pointing. There is a dead man lying there shot between the eyes. I fought him. He was winning. I know she asked me a question but I can’t remember it. I just blink over and over while I stare at him.

  “Les what’s wrong?”

  “It’s just my head. Banged it pretty hard I guess.” I show a calm relaxed smirk with my eyes sealed. I open them and happen to be looking back towards the overpass the bikers came from.

  There is a big white van approaching. Fear wakes me as I count heads. At least 6 people ride in the van speeding toward us. It reminds me of the one Petrova had at the mortuary. It is big and white with rows of bench seats. The van turns broadside to us and screeches to a halt. The doors open and men with short dark hair and matching greyuniforms start to funnel out. Each carries a small machine gun.

  “A
re you @#$(?” One of them asks me as he approaches. Or is he talking to someone else? A long expanse of time seems to have drifted by and it is as if more words have been said than I have gathered. “We have to keep going…the wave...” I say, into empty space.

  “Well you better #&$*@.” The man says. His face is hardened, he looks at me but it does not fit and my mind spins away.

  “Les you are looking pale you should @^$$#@” Faith says. She has that worried look in her eye and she seems to stare at me for hours. I am lost in her gaze. It is dreamy and sweet and a strange thought seeps into my head…Just close your eyes. I blink, flinch, and straighten. It was horrifying…like someone else’s voice in myhead. There has been a blank space in the conversation. Everyone is staring at me. Faith is talking to me but I don’t even know what she is saying.

  “We will #@#$&@.” The man says looking down the roads and not at us. “Just follow us north through Bradenton…”

  It is some moments later before I realize I have been daydreaming again. I shake myself loose of it and face him and very deliberately ask, “Where are we going? Is it safe?”

  “I told you $*%#@” The man says. Faith responds to him but it is nonsensical.

  I can’t follow anything. It’s as if I ask a question but drift off before Icanhear the answer.“Idon’t feel so great.” Isay, panting. Idecide to lean over and let my hands rest on my knees. I would retch again if there was anything in my stomach. Are my eyes closed? Shit, they are. I shake my head but that is not working. They are still closed. Panic sets in and then amplifies when I still can’t open my bastard eyes. I want to scream but my mouth is sewn shut. The universe breaks down for me. It fully disintegrates.

  Ifeel a thud and an immense pain in myhead, and then it is vacant. It is gone. I am gone. Am I sleeping? Where is the light? What is wrong with me? Why will my head and body not function? I cannot understand these twisted dreams anymore. I want to wake up. I am so tired of this whole fake end of the world. It is not real. It cannot be. It can’t end like this. I don’t know…maybe it can. I cry but it seems fake. I guess if this is not a dream, I must be dying. Yeah, that is what this is…I have felt this way before…like falling into pure darkness.