by D. C. Gomez
“Are you going to do it or not?” I demanded.
“Of course I am, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to point out how right I am.” Constantine was proud of himself. “Just a small problem, unless you want me to take out the humans and zombies, you need to clear the area.” I looked over at the stand. Zombies were charging the group of kids. The madness didn’t end.
“Bartholomew, what can Terminator do to draw attention? We need to get the zombies over here, so we can get those kids out. I’m open to anything.” I was running out of ideas. Charging headfirst into battle was getting old. I was not made to be an infantryman.
“Yes, I’ve been waiting all day to try this.”
I didn’t realize when Bartholomew had dropped his remote control. Probably because I was busy shooting angry zombies. Bartholomew retrieved it from Terminator’s feet and started pressing buttons and levers.
“Bart, what exactly are you doing?” I wasn’t ready for missiles to go flying from our tall friend.
“I made some preset functions that’ll run in automatic. That was the part that was taking me so long to get the programming so it would flow. I finally got all the bugs out. We need to stand back.”
I grabbed Bartholomew’s gun and stepped back ten feet. I had no idea what Bartholomew was up to. “Is he going to explode?” That would be a lot of shrapnel flying everywhere.
“It’s better. Ready?” Bartholomew asked, and I nodded. I was ready as I would ever be. Bartholomew hit a button, and music started blasting from Terminator.
“Is that Mozart La Para?” I asked Bartholomew. Bartholomew was playing a Latin Reggaetón that roughly translated as “The monsters have arrived.”
“You know, it’s perfect.” I had to admit it, he was right. What happened next blew my mind away.
“Oh my god, he dances?” That was the understatement of the century. Bartholomew had made a dancing robot. “Bartholomew, you are a genius. How did you pull this off?”
Bartholomew was glowing. “Baby, I got skills.” Bartholomew bragged, and he deserved it. Terminator was amazing, doing head rolls to side steps. “You can admire my work later; our friends are coming.” Bartholomew pointed at the crowd of zombies running from everywhere. I had completely forgotten the whole point of this. Bartholomew had done it, the music was blasting, and the zombies were coming.
“Bartholomew, how long can Terminator last like this?” I was hoping he wasn’t going to die on us and have that stampede of zombies turn on us.
“He has three loops of dances. At that pace, he can last about forty-five minutes without needing a charge.”
“You are not allowed ever to doubt yourself again, got it,” I told him as we made our way across to the pie stand.
“He’s pretty impressive.” That was an understatement. Bartholomew had no idea how talented he was. “I hope you don’t mind; I used your running mix music.”
“I’m flattered.”
We made it to the pie stand to find three kids staring at Terminator. They were probably all late teen or early twenties and drunk out of their minds. No wonder common sense wasn’t kicking in.
“Dude, that is amazing!” First drunk boy screamed at Bartholomew. Who said dude anymore?
“This is the best costume party ever,” his drunken friend added.
“Hey sexy, you should dance with me,” the third stooge told me as he started moving. I wasn’t sure if he was only drunk or high as well. Terminator had changed songs to Don Miguelo’s “Llevo La Vainita.”
“That’s my song!” Screamed my new fan. Bartholomew and I looked at each other in disbelief.
The three stooges broke out into a dance number. Seriously, I love music more than most people, but this was not the time for dancing. The boys were even twerking. Larry and Curly were humping my legs, and Moe probably had an epileptic seizure. Liquid courage made people do stupid things.
“I would never drink,” Bartholomew told me as he watched the horrible scene.
“That makes two of us.” I tossed my gun over my shoulder and grabbed two of our dance troops by the neckline. “Bart, grab that one.”
We dragged the stooges about twenty feet away. I’d rather face zombies than drunken boys. They were not cooperating at all and thought it was a game. I considered shooting them, but I didn’t want to drag them.
“Constantine, hurry. It’s cleared.” I wasn’t sure how long we could hold these three.
“Watch your eyes.” That was all the warning we got.
“Incoming!” I shouted at Bartholomew. We hit the dirt as quickly as possible.
When Constantine blew things up, he did it in style. I had no idea what he used, but that little booth went up in flames with a blast. When I looked up, our three stooges were flat on their backs from the impact, as well as every zombie within the area. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t feel too bad that the boys were out. They had that coming for being foolish.
“Bart, are you OK?” I asked him.
“Maybe we should have told Constantine the stand wasn’t that big,” Bartholomew told me as we slowly got up.
“Doubt it would have made a difference.” I was wiping dirt from my clothes again. I had spent a lot of time on the ground today.
“You said take it out. You don’t get to pick how,” Constantine supplied. “Isis, enough playing. I spotted the accountant near the fountain.”
“Are you sure?” I was trying to get my bearings.
“Don’t question me, girl. I got the skies.” Constantine hissed at me. “You better hurry. She has a basket with her.” Who did she think she was, Red Riding Hood?
“Bart, I got to go. Can you hold this down?” I took my rifle and backpack off.
“Terminator and I got this.” He smiled back.
“Good. Here, let’s switch.” We traded guns, and I gave him my backpack. “Watch the stooges now. If they get wild, shoot them.”
“My pleasure.” Bartholomew looked dangerous. I was afraid the trio might get hit just for the hell of it.
“Constantine, give me a status.” I took off running. No time to question the sanity of my decisions.
Chapter 37
With the amount of running I had done this week, I was ready for the Olympics or the Bataan Death March in White Sands, New Mexico. Either one was probably less painful than this. I ran at full speed toward the lake area. Based on Constantine’s instructions, our accountant probably had a car on that side of the park. If I didn’t catch her, she could take South Park Road, which intercepted the park. I worked hard not to hate people. Hate was a powerful emotion, but I honestly despised that woman. My friends were dying, and Texarkana was in chaos because of her. A loud explosion went off behind me.
“We’re in luck; Bob just blew up the third stand. Food threat eliminated. Now we need to neutralize the accountant,” Constantine told me.
I made it to the lake to find the accountant passing out pies left and right. Why would anyone take food from a stranger? Probably because we were in the south, and she looked harmless. I wasn’t sure if I should knock her pies out of people’s hands or come back later. No time now. I had no idea what car she was driving. I didn’t see a Nissan anywhere. Bartholomew’s music was so loud the whole placed sounded like a carnival. People were oblivious to the danger they were in.
I looked around and made up my mind. I rushed the accountant at full speed and tackled her to the ground. She at least had the decency to look surprised. We did a quick roll, and we were both on our feet in seconds. I did not like how quickly she moved.
“You don’t give up, do you? That’s a shame, little girl. Don’t you see, you’re nothing but a tool? As soon as the horsemen get tired of you, they’ll discard you. You’re irrelevant.”
Wow, Pestilence had done a number on this one. She was projecting some severe self-hate.
“OK lady, you know I can’t let you go.” I needed to turn this conversation back to the present moment.
“Right. Like you have much of a choice here.” She proceeded to throw an impressive combination of punches and kicks.
I blocked most, but a few punches landed on my ribs. She was a lot faster than me, but only since she hadn’t been running and fighting all through God’s creation all day. I managed to land a kick on her side. Instead of going down, she got furious. She was a lot stronger than she looked. She grabbed my arm, and I’m not sure how, she flipped me over her shoulder. I landed on my back, out of breath and hurting all over.
“I’m done with this game. You’re not worth my time.”
I was on the ground seeing stars, completely dizzy. She walked over to her picnic basket and pulled out a revolver. I was pretty sure she had real bullets in there and not paintballs.
“Hope you said your prayers, little one.” She aimed, and I couldn’t even focus enough to be afraid.
Before she could pull the trigger, she got hit by a truck. I couldn’t believe that had happened. The truck hit her so hard she flew straight into the lake. That was the last straw; this day was nuts. I dropped flat on the ground and closed my eyes.
“I told Constantine that boy was going to kill somebody some day.” I opened my eyes again, and Death was standing over me. I pulled myself up to look at what she was staring at. Shorty was climbing down from his truck, and I lost it. I started laughing.
“Thank you! I have been saying that all week. I’m just glad he hit her and not me.”
Death laughed as well. “That makes two of us. I’m not sure the world is ready for Shorty to be an intern.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. That was a great mental picture.
“Oops. Sorry, boss lady. I thought I hit the brakes, but not quickly enough. Do you think she’s going to make it?” Shorty was looking at the lake and then back at us. I wasn’t sure if he was remorseful for hitting her or for getting caught.
“Not that one, dear. She has a trip planned and not where she was hoping,” Death told Shorty.
“Sorry sir, I mean Death. I know we weren’t supposed to kill the zombies.”
Death smiled at Shorty. “She wasn’t a zombie. Just an evil apple. I’ll leave you in good company, my dear. I have some deliveries to make.”
Death walked on water toward the accountant. If that’s how Jesus looked when he walked on water, no wonder the apostles were amazed. That was one impressive sight.
“You heard boss lady. Death said I was good company.” Shorty was fixing his hair and ironing his shirt with his hand. “You know Death has style. That is one elegant black man. Smooth.” I looked at Shorty and then at Death and smiled. I liked Shorty’s version of Death. Smooth.
“Are you planning to stay on the ground all day boss lady?” Shorty asked very cautiously.
“You might need to help me, Shorty. Everything hurts now.”
Shorty rushed over to help me. By the time I was back to a vertical position, dozens of cars were pulling into the parking lot and surrounding the park. Shorty and I looked around, confused. I was leaning on Shorty when the doors to every vehicle opened in unison, and people dismounted. It was like watching synchronized swimming, but scarier.
“Are we being attacked by storm troopers?” For the first time that was an accurate description on Shorty’s part. They were all wearing white hazmat suits.
Eugene emerged from the front vehicle, giving orders. “Everybody move out. Tag anything that doesn’t look human twice. If not sure, tag it again. Don’t take any chances. Hurry, people. We’re on a deadline.”
“It’s about time he got there.” I jumped at the sound of Constantine’s voice. I forgot I had my earpiece in.
“Eugene, what’s going on?”
“I brought you some backup,” Eugene answered me as he got near. “Damn, what happened to you? You’re looking rough, babe.” Shorty and I just glared at him.
“Shorty, remind me to slap him once I stop hurting.”
“Don’t worry boss lady. If you forget I got you covered.” I smiled at Shorty, who was holding most of my weight.
“Who are your friends?” I asked Eugene.
“I got the CDC to quarantine Texarkana,” Eugene replied with a huge smile.
“Which side?” Shorty asked, looking concerned at the large group of people running everywhere.
“Both sides, plus most of the surrounding area.”
Shorty and I were looking at Eugene with our mouths open.
“On what grounds did you get them here?” I was pretty sure I was missing something.
“It was easy. I just reported a zombie apocalypse in Texarkana.” Eugene was extremely proud of himself.
“What? The Centers for Disease Control has a zombie code?” I have heard everything today. I was pretty sure I hit my head when I fell.
“They do, and it also helps that I’m on the board.” Eugene gave me the most charming smile. “It’s part of my responsibilities as a rookie. Besides, we need to administer my plague killer to both infected and healthy, and they’re the experts.”
“Attention, all non-zombies!”
The three of us turned in the direction of the park. Constantine was broadcasting his voice, probably using the drone. “I recommend you hit the dirt in three, or you will get blasted by the CDC. One…two…three. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh good, Constantine got my message. Got to go. I must supervise the dissemination.” Eugene was smiling like a kid at Christmas. “You two, tag these two and everyone on this side. Hurry now.” He yelled orders at two poor individuals in hazmat suits. The two storm troopers, as Shorty kept calling them, ran up to us. Before I could see what they were doing, I was injected in the arm with some strange syringe.
“Ouch!” Shorty yelled at the guy next to him.
“Easy now, tiger. I’m still alive.” I told the one fixing me.
“You’re safe to go now.” The guy told me and kept making his way around the park, stabbing people with shots of vaccine.
“Shorty, I’m done. Can you please take me home?” I probably looked as miserable as I felt, because Shorty just smiled at me.
“Of course, boss lady. You did great today.”
Shorty patted my arm and walked me slowly around the truck. I was so beat I didn’t care if he put me on the tailgate. I climbed slowly into the cab. Shorty buckled me in and closed the door. The last thing I remember was falling asleep as Shorty was jumping in the driver’s seat.
Chapter 38
It was past seven when I woke up. I wasn’t feeling nearly as exhausted, but I was struggling to get out of bed. I needed to check up on Bob and Bartholomew and make sure everyone had made it back OK. I took a quick shower. My hair was greasy and all matted. I usually didn’t move in my sleep, so I was surprised I looked so rough. When I got out of the shower I felt human again. I did a double check to make sure I wasn’t turning zombie and didn’t know it.
When I entered the loft, all the boys were around the kitchen table. Conversation stopped, and they all stared at me.
“Oh, thank God. I was afraid I was going to leave without saying goodbye to you,” Eugene said as he got up from the table.
“You’re leaving so soon?” I was taken aback. I knew Eugene couldn’t hang out with us all the time, but I was hoping he was staying longer.
“My work here is done. CDC has lifted the quarantine on the cities and are done vaccinating people. The Mistress said I needed to return to my real work now.” Eugene looked pretty sad.
“Wow, the CDC moves fast.” How did they get all that done so fast?
“Well, it helps when you work all night,” Eugene told me.
“All night? How long have I been sleeping?” I was missing a huge piece of information.
> “About twenty-eight hours,” Bartholomew told me.
“What? And you guys didn’t think to wake me?” It was Sunday already.
“We checked on you to make sure you were still breathing,” Bartholomew told me with a smile.
“Isis, you were delirious. That’s how tired you were,” Constantine told me from the table. “All the running, the stress, and then the fact that you drank three shakes in one day crashed you.”
“Is drinking three shakes bad?” There were side effects to those shakes. I knew it.
“Calm down now. It’s nothing bad; it’s the normal side effect of being wired. You were eventually going to crash. You just crashed hard. Shorty had to drag you up the stairs.” Constantine was shaking his head as his spoke.
“How is Shorty? Is he OK?” I didn’t remember much from the point I climbed in the truck with him.
“He’s doing great,” Bob told me with a smile on his face. “Working his crew to deliver former zombies to their homes and cleaning up disaster areas. He said you told him he could keep the truck. So he’s living the dream.”
All the boys were staring at him.
“I thought I said I would talk to Constantine.” I rubbed my wet hair, trying to remember all the details from yesterday. “Are you one with him keeping the truck?” I asked Constantine cautiously.
“I already raised our insurance and added premium coverage to his plan,” Constantine replied.
“What’s premium coverage?” I didn’t think I was familiar with that.
“It’s like full coverage, but triple, to cover all the pedestrians Shorty is going to hit,” Constantine said.
The rest of us laughed.
“Of course he can keep the truck. I’m not going to find another cleanup crew as reliable as Shorty that doesn’t ask any questions. I’m willing to pay the price for good help.” Constantine winked at me.
“We won’t get to see you anymore,” I said to Eugene, a little discouraged. He was part of our family now. Life-threatening situations were great ways of bonding people.