by Evans, Mike
Stupid Mike and his stupid car. If she’d have rode the bus she’d be at the school getting ready to kick ass. Instead she was stuck here with this loser—who she loved—wasting time until her Grandfather, Pat, could come and rescue them.
She loved her grandfather for as long as she could remember he was always there for her. He made it to every game, every birthday, and anything he could be at to support her. He called to check on her but gave her the space she needed when it was necessary.
Christy knew it was hard on her grandfather to keep in contact. Even a phone call got him a nasty cursing out by Christy’s mom, Karen. Christy never understood how Karen could hate her grandfather so much. He was so sweet and giving. Sure, he was a bit weird sometimes. Grandfather Pat’s eyes would occasionally glaze over and he’d start talking about Alpha-con this and Charlie that…But in the end he was always sweet and giving.
Sweet and giving was just not enough, though. While Christy called her grandfather, “Grandfather,” Karen called him “bastard,” and “self-righteous mother-fucker,” and “arrogant prick.” Regardless of the names, Grandfather Pat always took it in stride as long as he knew Christy was the prize at the end of the name game.
“Mike, I said back the fuck off!” Christy exclaimed, pushing Mike’s arm off of her. “You know, you are a real arrogant prick! Why don’t you take a walk and deal with that testosterone a bit!”
Mike, tired of being abused for just following his natural instincts silently agreed by slamming the car door and stomping off as loudly as possible. He wasn’t going to complain but he was going to make goddamned sure Christy knew his feelings were hurt.
After taking a few steps Mike had passed his car. He realized suddenly this was a good opportunity to urinate. He looked left and right. He chose left as the least dark and frightening path and went to claim his territory.
***
Pat had been driving for about thirty minutes. He hadn’t seen many signs of carnage except a rare blood trail here and there. Pat wasn’t sure if the police were aware of the situation this far out so he maintained a semi-appropriate speed limit, while still exceeding it. He had to save Christy. She was his reason for living. The day she was born the world became bright again. Nothing could change that. Pat wouldn’t LET anything change that.
Pat’s 8-track player looped as he drove, attempting to sooth his tension but never getting past his brain’s survival filters. Pat was on constant surveillance, as was Muffin. Both watched left to right, right to left. Watching for any threats. Any people laying inconspicuously by the road, in the road. Any lumps or wires that may be landmines waiting to explode. Pat and Muffin had no intention of letting Charlie win this one, not while Christy’s life was at stake.
Pat eventually drove past the strangest of cars. A Pinto. Charlie must have been slipping if they thought Pat would fall for that. But then out of his rear view mirror he saw Christy jump out of the car and wave dramatically.
“What the…?” Pat exclaimed, stepping on the breaks. Pat rolled down his window and poked his head out yelling, “Christy, get the hell away from that thing, it’s a trap!” Pat did the fastest U-Turn the world had ever seen and pulled up beside Christy.
“Grandad! It’s not a trap, it’s Mike’s car!” Christy exclaimed. She found the humor in the situation but decided she was too irritated to laugh.
“A Pinto? That things a death trap! No wonder you are stuck out here! Where is this ‘Mike’ fella’? I’m gonna need a word with him!” Pat expressed, trying to show concern and empathy through his paranoia.
“I’m not sure, Grandpa! We had a fight a few minutes ago. He wandered into the woods and never came back!” Christy again battled between anger and fear, this time the fear won out and her face showed Pat enough heartbreak to make him charge into the combat zone without a second thought.
“Which way?!” Pat half-shouted? Christy pointed and Pat ran, Muffin at his heels.
It didn’t take long to find Mike. He was whining loudly and making odd body convulsions. Pat slowed to a stop watching Mike curiously.
“You dead, boy?” Pat asked, as politely as possible.
“D…dead? Dead? No way!” Mike responded, sounding more timid than his urinated pants would suggest. “I’m stuck on something! I came out here to use the bathroom and some sort of trap caught me. I can’t get out!”
Pat walked over and shined a flashlight at Mike’s urine-stained pants. Pat didn’t ignore the opportunity to chuckle, but the chuckle stopped abruptly as the flashlight captured the image of what was really happening. Attached to Mike’s calf was the mouth of Charlie. Mike was lucky, it didn’t have any arms. It had bit and it wasn’t letting go, but there was no way there would be the carnage Pat had witnessed tonight.
“Okay. Okay, here’s what we are going to do…Mack, is it?” Pat asked.
“Mike!” He exclaimed. He had just seen what was attached to his leg and he was trying not to let go of his bowels.
“Mick, okay. Got it!” Pat empathized. “Okay, Mick. On the count of three I want you to jump toward me. You got it? Pat used his most calming voice possible to express the severity of the situation.
“Yessi…”
“THREE!” Pat exclaimed and shot Charlie in the head.
Mike shrieked and let go of his bowels. He forgot to jump, but at this point it didn’t matter. Charlie was dead and Mike was alive.
“Alright, son. Let’s get you out of here. Lucky for you that thing had no arms or you’d be toast.” Pat made his way back toward the road. Mike followed the best he could with an awkward penguin walk.
***
“You found him!” Christy yelled with a perturbed glee.
“Yes, I found him. But you’d best stay quiet. It ain’t safe out here no more.” Pat explained. “We need to get our vehicles together and get out of the State immediately!
Christy looked at her penguin-walking boyfriend out of confusion first, and then at her grandfather with more confusion. “What?” She asked, “Why?”
“This isn’t the time…” Pat started, only to be deflated by a withering and practiced glare by Christy. “Alright. You want to know? I’ll tell you. But only on the condition your boyfriend Mick goes and changes his clothes. I got a pair in my car if he ain’t got nothin’.”
Christy and Mike both agreed to the terms.
“And you better find some leaves to wipe with!” Pat yelled before explaining the events of the day. By the time the story was finished Christy’s eyes and mouth were as wide as he’d ever seen them. Mike and what was left of his dignity had returned and was mirroring her sentiment.
“So now you see why we have to get out of the State!” Pat urged. “We have to get out before they lock us down!”
“No way, Grandpa, not without mom!” Christy demanded.
Pat’s face drained of color as he ran Christy’s words over in his mind. His inner voice whined, “we’re doomed.”
Muffin Whined with him.
The End
By Shaun Phelps
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Zombie Stories for People with Short Attention Spans