Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time

by Richard Johnson

  Fireworks exploded in an orgy of smoke and clatter as the champ slowly descended to LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out.” Dancing the entire time, it took him five minutes to reach the ring. Big Rob looked shell-shocked once again and it was clear the shenanigans had paid off.

  The music stopped and Charlie popped Rob’s mouthpiece into place. “Knuckles up, brother, I’ll see you soon.” As the words left his mouth, Charlie wondered if he was lying. He didn’t like his own answer.

  Big Rob shuffled to the center of the ring and came face to face with the cauliflower-eared champ. Vladimir spoke as the ref had them tap gloves. “Try not lay egg, big chicken.”

  The Bulgarian’s words were jumbled, but Rob realized Vladimir had embarrassed him in front of the world with his little song stunt. The taunt was the final insult, and Rob fixed his opponent with a red-hot glare and prepared to let his fists do the talking.

  Charlie didn’t hear Vladimir, but he did see Rob’s reaction. He’d been the butt of jokes his entire life and usually turned the other cheek. Now all that suppressed rage bubbled up to the surface like a force of nature. Rob stood taller. His eyes, once shifting and distracted, now focused like a laser on Vladimir.

  “Shit’s about to go thunder-dome!” Charlie yelled and banged on the cage.

  The bell rang and Rob charged forward like an enraged bull. But the matador answered with a quick combination of crisp jabs and tried to follow with a fight-ending uppercut. Rob simply absorbed the blows and pressed forward, deflecting the haymaker and taking the champ down.

  Ten thousand fans gasped in unison as the Bulgarian Badass landed hard on his back. Quick as a spider, Rob moved into a full guard position while Charlie shouted, “Ground and pound, ground and pound!” He’d never seen Rob move with such glorious purpose.

  Meanwhile, Vladimir wondered how he’d ended up on his back fifteen seconds into the fight, and was surprised at the ferocity of the charge. Still, the veteran had been in tighter spots than this and choked out opponents from that very position. He simply needed to cover up until his eager opponent made a mistake, and they always did. However, that confidence vanished after three powerful hammer strikes slipped past his defenses and shattered his nose. The punches continued one after another like pistons in an engine, and Vladimir ate most of them.

  Rob’s blows quickly lost their mustard as the adrenaline faded and he began to gas out. He leaned forward to let his stench take over.

  A battered and bloody Vladimir struggled to breathe as the garlicky essence seeped out of Rob’s sweaty pores. He couldn’t breathe, and a man known for putting women in painful positions now found himself in one. The coward slowly made a move to tap out.

  Meanwhile, the shady owner of the fight league was not enjoying the show. “I can’t have that lard-ass be the face of my empire,” he said through puffs of a Cuban cigar. “This ain’t happening.” He made a call to the referee’s pager.

  Getting his signal, the ref jumped in. “Okay, no resting on top. I’m standing you up for inactivity.” Of course, it was crap, and the fans went ballistic. Though drunken and ignorant, they still wanted to see a fair fight and this professional wrestling bullshit would not do.

  Vladimir’s panic ebbed as he got back to his feet, and his superior skills kicked in. He circled to the right while peppering the plucky upstart with jab after jab. A nasty cut opened over Rob’s left eye and obscured his vision. Twenty long seconds remained in the first round. Ten… five… Another jab followed by a crushing right hook to Rob’s jaw. Three… two… one… Ding.

  Both fighters staggered to their corners looking like they’d walked through a gauntlet. Vladimir had the best men money could buy and Rob had… Charlie. The champ’s crew smeared Vaseline over cuts and applied cold metal to a nasty forehead welt. Charlie, however, leered at the ring girl bent over in front of him. The knockout picked up her sign and cast him a come-hither look.

  “Water,” Rob managed to gasp out, and the rookie trainer turned from the floozy and instinctively squirted a stream down the fighter’s chasm of a mouth. Distracted by the perfect body before him, Charlie forgot to remove Rob’s mouth guard. The ice-cold water bounced off the plastic and traveled directly into Rob’s over-taxed lungs. It was a huge blunder, and Rob was still hacking up water when the bell rang.

  Vladimir, however, had regained his wind as well as his confidence. A cold smile crossed his battered face upon seeing Rob’s condition.

  “Get your hands up!” Charlie said and banged on the cage as the fight, and his livelihood, started slipping away.

  Rob feebly raised his fists into a half-assed defensive posture as Vladimir closed in rapidly. A flurry of head-strikes followed by a powerful sidekick to his gut sent shockwaves through Rob’s entire body. He wobbled for a moment and his hands dropped just a few inches.

  It was the opening the champ needed, and he spun into his signature roundhouse kick. Rob tried to back away, but the blow landed squarely on his thick jaw. The giant tipped backwards like a felled sequoia and landed with a thunderous boom as the crowd went absolutely ape-shit. This was what they had paid for.

  The referee dashed to Rob’s side and motioned for the ringside doctors, leaving a shell-shocked Charlie alone and decimated. Worrying about his friend’s health, Charlie also wondered how they would even get back to Illinois.

  Meanwhile, Vladimir bounced around doing the chicken dance and acting like his regular jagoff self. That’s when the Bulgarian Badass stopped his theatrics and pointed to Rob’s motionless form as the doctors applied a neck brace. The television camera zoomed in on a rapidly enlarging golden puddle that was forming in the center of the ring. Hello YouTube, goodbye fighting career.

  * * *

  Lathered in sweat, Big Rob Magnusson woke from his recurring flashback-nightmare. “Dang.” The couch beneath him was soaked. He crept to the window and tossed his soiled underwear into the road, where it landed next to the charred mound that was Blake’s funeral pyre.

  Though a month had passed since Blake died from the spoiled insulin, his last words still echoed in Rob’s mind. “I swear you could fuck up a peanut butter sandwich.” Rob put on his tattered jean shorts, flipped the cushion over and lay back down to sleep.

  Chapter 31

  Booty Call

  A casualty of the Second Great Chicago Fire, Willis Tower had collapsed upon itself and blanketed the city in a fine layer of dust and despair. Like its residents, America’s Second City had died.

  However, Charlie Campbell’s thoughts were elsewhere as he snuck about the shadows, kicking up a powdery trail between burnt out cars and overgrown bushes. And they were mostly on getting laid.

  While his friends continued their idle boozing and general mischief-making, Charlie pounded out countless pushups, sit-ups and wind sprints. The hardcore training soon reshaped him into the White Lightning of old, albeit balder than before, but just as fast. Now able to survive on the streets through speed and cunning, Charlie grew bolder with each solo trip. Tonight he hoped to score a secret rendezvous with the elusive neighbor girls. Naturally, he’d kept his friends in the dark about his plans.

  The streets were almost empty due to Russ’s invention of a game he called “zom-bowling.” A bowling ball screwed to a long chain was the only equipment, and being drunk was the only rule. Anything dumb enough to get into range went splat, and the rats always cleaned up the mess. It passed the time.

  After a few pauses to avoid detection, Charlie reached the three-flat apartment down the street, grabbed a knotted bed sheet hanging from the second floor window, and clamored up. Adrenaline pumping, he entered the darkened room intent on making a bold entrance. “Hello, ladies,” Charlie said and offered up the broadest smile he could muster. He had always thought first impressions were important.

  The answer was a sharp object pressed firmly against his neck. Blood spattered the floor as echoes of the bachelor party fiasco flooded Charlie’s thoughts. He feared his dick had betrayed him
yet again.

  “Sit down and put your hands above your head,” said a gruff female voice from the darkness.

  Charlie complied. “I’m unarmed—”

  “Shut your mouth,” came the reply.

  Charlie pressed his luck. “I risked my ass bringing you food. Plus you dropped me a note and told me to come up here. What gives?”

  A hastily lit candle revealed the two women holding him captive. “We’ve been watching you since day one,” a redhead built like a brick shithouse said as she pushed the knife forward. “And frankly, we’re not impressed.”

  Charlie cringed. “I’m not sure what you think you’ve seen from a hundred yards away, but—”

  “We’ve seen plenty,” she replied, stone-faced. “I’d say we know everything about you.”

  “Oh really?”

  “For instance, your white-haired friend is a bumbling masturbatory idiot. The moron with the mullet is a raging alcoholic, the big guy looks borderline retarded and the smirking tool in the cop outfit is a psycho. How did I do?”

  “Not bad,” Charlie conceded. “But what about me?”

  “You seem the least useless out of the bunch,” the other girl, a blonde, said with the faintest hint of a smile. Charlie saw his lifeline.

  “We’re not boy scouts, but we’ve been trying. Don’t we get points for rescuing the kid at least?”

  “Saving him was the only reason we contacted you,” the blonde said.

  “You just used us for food then?”

  She shook her head. “No. We wanted to make sure you were harmless.”

  “And?” Charlie asked.

  “And I’m pretty sure Kate here could kick your ass,” she replied with a wink.

  Charlie glanced sideways at his captor’s taut arms. “Fair enough. So that’s Kate. I’m Charlie, what’s your name?”

  Her face softened. “Brooke.”

  “Nice to meet you. Now that we’re old friends, would you mind taking the knife out of my neck? I don’t want to bleed out over here.”

  Kate lowered the blade and stepped away. “You’re both annoying the shit outta me so I’m going to the living room. Don’t make me come back in here, pencil neck.”

  “Sorry, she doesn’t like men… at all,” Brooke whispered while leaning in and dabbing at Charlie’s puncture wound with a rag.

  “I kinda got that feeling,” he said through gritted teeth. “What about you? Because I might actually be the world’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “Being a little forward aren’t you?” she said while her green eyes sparkled.

  Charlie nodded. “There’s no reason not to be, given the circumstances. I mean, I could die on my way home.”

  “Merlot?” she asked casually and retrieved a bottle from the counter. “I’ve been saving it.”

  “Tempting, but I stopped drinking a few weeks ago and I’m kinda on a roll. But if you wanna get hammered and do something you’ll regret…”

  The banter kept up for several hours and Charlie was on top of his game. It felt great, but the sun was coming up soon and he had to sneak home.

  “I almost forgot,” Charlie said and gave her a freshly picked red rose from Mrs. Stone’s beloved garden, plucked mere feet from the heavily decayed and thoroughly crushed skeleton. “Are we going steady now?”

  “I’m not that easy,” she said and smiled. “Then again, you are quite eligible.”

  “But all bullshit aside, why am I here?”

  Brooke put down her empty glass. “We want to leave the city, and we need your help to do it.”

  Chapter 32

  You Mad Bro?

  “This bar was great. They’d give you free drinks and food all night long,” Rob said then paused from his story to gulp stale rum and coke. “When it got late, they’d take you out back and fuck the shit out of you.”

  “This actually happened to you?” Bruce said.

  “No, but it happened to my sister all the time.”

  Charlie moved on before any feelings or faces could get hurt. “I can’t believe how much Elvis and Brandon are growing,” he said as the dynamic duo happily splashed around the kiddie pool, shaded from the sun by a Bud Light umbrella. The raccoon and child had become the best of friends, almost like brothers.

  “They’re growing all right. Like a cancer,” sourpuss Left-Nut added.

  “What’s up your ass?” Charlie said. “Not that I really give two shits.”

  “All right, since you asked me. I’m sick of you walking around here like you’re Jesus, and all of us should just bow down to your greatness. The truth of the matter is, you’re the biggest traitor since Mariah Stevens—”

  “Who’s that?” Russ paused from meticulously brushing his mullet. Five hundred strokes a day like clockwork.

  “My prom date,” Left-Nut replied. “I went for snacks and that whore gave my cousin a handy-j under the table. But she’s not important. What’s important is that we’ve got our own Benedict Arnold, right in front of us.”

  “Oh here we go. I suppose you’re gonna say I stole your jerk-off lotion or something?”

  Left-Nut stopped inches from Charlie’s face. “Oh no, this is legit.” He turned back to the others. “I noticed our food stocks were shrinking. Of course, I assumed Rob was stealing it, being the fat fuck that he is, so I waited to catch him in the act. It took a few nights of staying up late, pretending I was asleep on the couch.” He whirled around dramatically to face Charlie. “Only the thief wasn’t Rob.”

  “I’ve been carbo-loading, big deal. I bring most of the food in anyways.”

  Left-Nut sneered. “If it were only that simple. But I was curious to see what you were up to, so I tailed you one night. And that’s when I saw you climb into a three-flat down the block, your dick leading the way.”

  “Where are you goin’ with this?”

  “I’m saying I want my piece, literally. Besides, I called dibs on the blonde one. That’s official.”

  “Don’t you think she has a say about that?” Charlie said as his face reddened and blood rushed to his hands.

  “There’s no free lunch. If they want more food, they’ll have to pay. Ass, gas or grass right? I know what I’ll take.”

  Mike jumped in. “You’re a rapist now?”

  “Haven’t you been paying attention for the last fifteen years?” Left-Nut’s voice rose. “You could say that I have questionable morals, sure.”

  Mike nodded. “You could say that.”

  Left-Nut stood his ground. “Here we go again. Mike thinks his shit doesn’t stink too. But I remember back in college you stuck your roommate’s toothbrush up your ass because he stole your beer.”

  “Hey, I was Mike’s roommate,” Smokey said, surprised.

  “It’s called growing up. Most people that aren’t complete losers tend to do it.” Mike looked to Smokey. “Sorry about the toothbrush. I guess I overacted a little.”

  The arguments continued while Brandon and Elvis romped in the rainwater, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding around them. Brandon had learned to mimic the raccoon’s chatter and now it was the only noise he would make, much to Left-Nut’s annoyance.

  Meanwhile, the dispute picked up steam as others took sides. “I don’t normally agree with Lefty, but he’s got a point,” Bruce said. “I’m not risking my life for chicks I’ve never even met. Especially when Charlie’s getting all the honey. That’s bogus.”

  “It’s worse than bogus,” Trent said. “It’s damn right dangerous. I mean, Charlie’s been going out without telling any of us?”

  “Yeah, so? I don’t have a curfew.”

  “You haven’t had a bite check, which means you could be infected right now and we wouldn’t even know it,” Trent replied. “We don’t want another Cliff situation on our hands. Better tie him up until we figure this out.”

  “Yeah, then we can pay our neighbors a house call,” Left-Nut added with a knowing smirk. “And by house call I mean sexual intercourse.”

  The
last comment sent ice through Charlie’s veins and spurred him to act. He braced for the quick shove that would send Left-Nut tumbling down into the zombie-pit. The others were drunk enough that they might back off, and if not, well, he’d deal with them too. Things were about to get real.

  “What’s that noise?” Rob said while positioning himself between Charlie and the others. “Seriously, everybody shut up for second.”

  “Like the helicopter you ‘heard’ the other day?” Russ said. “Boy, I swear you got oatmeal between your ears.”

  “Not another word,” Big Rob replied with a glare, and Russ went back to sipping his grain alcohol.

  Sure enough, a low rumble grew louder, and the guys instantly forgot their squabble. That’s when the building began rattling.

  Bruce ran to the north side of the roof and leaned far over the edge, right in time to see a tank come around the corner and turn down their street, mowing down several zombies in the process. “Over here!” he shouted and waved frantically. A machine gunner wearing sunglasses waved back as the tan-colored tank came closer.

  “Holy shit, here comes the cavalry!” Bruce squinted when he noticed the tank bore a red flag with yellow stars. “What’s a Chinese tank doing—”

  CHAH CHAH CHAH CHAH CHAH! was the sound of the .50 caliber ripping the stockbroker in half. Bruce’s legs stood upright, almost cartoon-like, as his limp torso splashed into the crimson pool.

  Russ instinctively chucked his bottle of liquor at the tank, then dove for cover as the gunner sprayed more belt-fed shells in his direction. The incoming firepower easily shredded the brick façade of the building and sent shards flying into the handful of idiots now facing certain death.

  “Where’s my bullets?” Trent said while cowering behind the gas grill.

  “You’re serious?” Charlie replied. “It’s a fucking tank.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  He didn’t. “They’re in Jim’s bible.”

  Naturally, this was the only place that Trent hadn’t searched. Moments later, he returned with his gun and remaining ammo. The cop waited for a break in the firing, then popped up and squeezed off several rounds at the soldier, completely missing him. With the machine gun now trained directly at him, he fired his last round and missed again, but this time the bullet ricocheted off the tank and caused a spark. Russ’s liquor and the gunner went up in flames.