12
THE DOLLIES OF DOOM
Mom chose her fate—mostly by paying more attention to me than the door—and now it was time to choose mine. Personally, I favored one that didn’t involve being devoured by zombie squirrels. Of all the horrible ways to die during Armageddon, I had to imagine that ranked pretty high.
Apparently, Jack thought so, too, because he took one look at what was happening to my mother and dropped Darlene. He backed up a step, horror on his face and a stain spreading across the front of his pants, then tried to make a run for it.
Bad mistake turning your back on the kid who was absent the day mercy showed up on the vocabulary quiz.
I didn’t hesitate to fire, not particularly caring if my sister was still in the way. She wasn’t, though, and my bullet hit Jack in the back of the leg just as he reached the sliding door leading outside. He pitched forward, crashed through the glass, and landed hard on the concrete patio, where he lay screaming like a bitch.
Pity it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Darlene complaining. “Eww, I think he peed on me!”
I hurried past her while the squirrels were still busy chewing on Mom. “Better to be pissed off than pissed on.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m fucking hilarious.” I was tempted to leave her to her own devices but decided against it. The little princess was too feebleminded to survive on her own, and I might still need to use her as a decoy at some point. “Let’s go.”
“What about Mom?”
“She’s busy playing with the hamsters.”
“Can I be next?”
“Debating it. Come on.”
The broken sliding door killed our chances of slowing down the zombie horde long enough for us to make a run for it.
That was fine. I didn’t much care for running from evil when there was a chance of eliminating it once and for all. And lo and behold, there was the perfect bait right outside wailing like a flabby banshee.
Flabby? That was it!
“You fucking shot my leg,” he screeched, tears in his eyes. Pussy.
I shouldered my gun and pulled SPAZ from its sling on my back as a plan began to form. “You threatened to kill my sister and fuck my mom.”
“P-please. I was just...joking.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m gonna have to carry all these supplies back home by myself. As far as punchlines go, that one royally pisses me off. But don’t worry. I have a better one for you.”
“Ooh, I think the hamsters are coming,” Darlene said from somewhere behind me.
“Good. Let them come. I’m gonna have a meal waiting for them they won’t soon forget.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“Stay back.”
“Why?” Darlene whined. “I want to play with them.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?!”
“Because it’s feeding time at the zoo.”
I shoved her away from me and took aim as the army of rodent darkness rushed out from the back door of the house.
Waiting for them on the patio was a bloody entrée in the form of Jack. I’d filleted him real good, leaving him just barely alive enough to experience what it was like to be the main course.
Or, in this case, dessert—Baked Alaska to be precise.
The yard wasn’t big, and our backs were already up against the fence, so if this didn’t work, then at least I wouldn’t have to worry about lugging a hundred pounds of SpaghettiOs back with us. Glass half full and all that.
The squirrels fell upon Jack, unable to resist the smell of blood. Several went straight for his face—not that he was a looker to begin with—while the rest attacked the appetizing hump of flesh that was his stomach.
I sited his bloated gut in my crosshairs and pulled the trigger just as they descended upon him en masse. My aim was true, and the bullet struck the propane tank I’d shoved beneath his copious flabs of skin after gutting him with SPAZ.
Jack went off like...well, a bomb exploded inside of him, blowing apart in a whoosh of superheated air that was hot enough to make my eyes water.
It was hard to tell what was asshole and what was squirrel as a foul rain of putrescence washed down upon us, as if all the angels in Heaven synced up and got their periods at the same time.
“This is gross.”
I turned to Darlene, now covered in gore. “You’re gross.”
This time, I really meant it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Tagging human zombies was one thing. Squirrels, however, made for much harder targets, especially when they were running around on fire. The surprise I’d left buried in Jack’s gut had taken out the majority of the rodent army. We’re talking dozens of the little tree rats. But there were still enough left to make clean up a pain in the ass.
Not making it any easier was Darlene, bitching all the while about how yucky she felt.
Finally, I gave up trying to be precise and switched to full auto, letting a hail of hot lead take care of the stragglers. It took nearly all my remaining ammo, but by the time I was finished, there was nary a squirrel left twitching in the backyard.
As I stood there admiring my handiwork, Darlene pushed past me. “I have to go poo.”
“Say it, don’t spray it.” I must have been really rattled because that didn’t make any goddamned sense.
“Oh, hi, Mom. I’m going to the bathroom.”
Hi, Mom?!
Shit! I’d forgotten all about her, most importantly that part about the dead rising from their graves...even if that grave was the living room.
I briefly eyed the full Radio Flyer. All I had to do was grab it and wheel it home, forget about Darlene and any of this. It was probably the smart thing to do, the natural order asserting itself. But I just couldn’t. I tried to live by a code now that the world had ended. Mind you, most of that code involved fucking over anything that tried to fuck with me first...except twice as hard. But I also believed in cleaning up my own messes. I’d done so with Grandma, then Dad, and those assholes down at Hello Titty too. As hilarious as it might be for Darlene to get savaged while trying to take a shit, I needed to finish what I’d started.
Okay fine, technically the squirrels started it, and it was her own fucking fault, but whatever. A code was a code.
I heard the sound of a door being shut inside, followed by shambling footsteps and a thud of meat striking wood.
“Occupied!” Darlene called from inside the bathroom. Pity, I had a feeling Mom was beyond the concept of waiting her turn.
I checked my ammo. Only three shots left, but more than enough. Then I stepped inside and... Holy shit!
I’d seen the cats’ victims, but they were nothing like this. Zombie squirrels apparently meant business. When they decided to fuck you up, they treated you like the buffet at an all you can eat restaurant. Mom was no longer recognizable, missing most of her skin and a whole shitload of meat too. She looked like someone ran her over with a lawn mower, backed up, then did it again just to be certain.
“I said occupied!”
My little sister was doing her damnedest to make me reconsider my strategy. To think, I could be back home, enjoying a feast of SpaghettiOs—and the blessed silence of eating alone—within the hour. So tempting.
Fuck it all. “Yo, Mom. If you were looking for a way to dissuade Jack’s dick, I think you found it.”
The horror that had been my mother turned toward me as expected and began to shamble my way, bits and pieces of her falling off with each step, as if she were coming apart at the seams. I took aim at the dripping hole where her right eye had been.
“Sorry, Mom, but I think I’ll take out all my teenage rebellion on you at once.”
Just as I started to squeeze the trigger, something forced its way through the gnawed remains of the front door, catching me by surprise. The gun went off, and my shot went wide, blowing a chunk out of Mom’s shoulder—which meant it did fuck-all when it came to putting her down for good.
Shit!
The lurching mess that stepped in wasn’t alone. Another followed it, then two more. Four in total and they all resembled larger versions of the pile of chewed flesh that was my mother.
Hold on, four more? Jack’s friends!
Goddamn it!
The squirrels, in their endless hunger, had taken them down just as he’d said. As for why they were here, that was easy—blowing the shit out of their buddy, followed by lots of gunfire. It must have been like ringing the dinner bell to their freshly re-animated brains.
Here I was, outnumbered five to one, with only two bullets left because I’d gotten trigger-happy finishing off a bunch of rodents.
The only way this could get worse was if a flock of zombie geese attacked us, flying north now that spring was here.
Knowing my luck, I’d be smart to check the skies once I stepped outside again.
But for now, I had trouble enough to keep me busy.
♦ ♦ ♦
Two shots left and a locked six-foot fence to my back. That left one bullet for Darlene and one for me if it came down to it.
Mom shuffled forward, and I reflexively raised the gun and put one in her brain pan, dropping her faster than Missy Columbo dumped my ass at the fifth-grade dance last year.
Okay, so make that one bullet left for me. Darlene was on her own.
Too bad for the assholes coming for me that I wasn’t quite ready to accept defeat just yet.
Shouldering the rifle behind my back, I pulled out SPAZ and retreated to the yard to give myself space to fight. The downside was that I had four monsters coming after me, each more intent on boy flesh than a NAMBLA convention. The only advantage I had was that they were all pretty fucked up. Hell, the only reason they were probably able to even stand was that they were freshly risen. Give them a week or two and they’d probably fall apart like one of my sister’s stupid dolls.
Alas, I didn’t have a week, much less two.
Thankfully, these guys weren’t big on strategy; otherwise, I would’ve been toast. They came straight at me, the broken door just narrow enough that they had to push their way through one at a time.
“That’s it, fuckers, batter up!” I swung SPAZ as the first of the Shop-More non-survivors advanced upon me, nailing him solidly in the side of the head. “Strike one!”
I quickly pulled the weapon from his skull, sliding it out in one fluid action, but the next in line was moving faster than I’d expected. To keep him from grabbing me, I was forced to backpedal. My armor was still holding up pretty well, but that wouldn’t mean dick if they managed to pin me down.
But first they’d need to get me... Fuck! I stepped back, not realizing I was at the edge of the patio. It was only a couple inches difference to the ground, but the concrete was still slippery from Jack. Combined, it was enough to put me off balance and send me staggering until I landed on my ass in the blood-encrusted grass.
By then, the two other ghouls had made it outside. I couldn’t worry about them, yet, though, not with one about to stage dive on top of me.
Fear collected in my gut, but I grabbed hold of it by the throat and pushed it away.
I could do this. I was motherfucking Jimmy Headshot. My online record was unmatched, except by maybe those freaks from Korea who seemed to be logged on twenty-four seven, but I seriously doubted any of them had the stones to do what I did in real life.
Yeah! I had this.
I swung SPAZ one-handed, slamming it into the side of the zombie’s leg and taking him out at the ankles. Unfortunately, my shitty luck wasn’t finished yet. One of the nails sank into bone as it toppled over, landing atop my weapon and driving the nail on the other side into the grass, effectively trapping it.
Not good.
The last two zombies were quickly heading my way, but the one I’d knocked down was already there. It lunged for me, but I managed to block it, giving it nothing but an arm guard from my days in archery class to bite down on.
That saved my ass for the moment, but tied up one of my arms as I tried to fend the fucking thing off, leaving me relatively helpless as his two buddies lurched toward us. I couldn’t even reach back for my rifle so as to properly eat a bullet before they could eat me.
So far as I could tell, this was it. There was no way out of this.
You had a good run, Jimmy, but it’s time to log off the server. Just hope that whoever finds your corpse can tell that you died the same way you lived—kicking ass.
I’d hoped to stick around long enough to become a bitter old hermit, angry at the remnants of humanity for screwing the pooch so badly. But I guess in the end, I didn’t have what it took to make it for the long haul.
“This sucks. They only have the scratchy toilet paper.”
The two walking meat piles stopped and turned back toward the house. Darlene stepped out of the broken door, a handful of dolls in her arms, and a pissy look upon her face. “My butt hurts.”
“Run, you idiot!” I screamed. Being survived by my sister was pretty fucking embarrassing, but at least I’d be too dead to care.
Instead, she continued to walk forward, as if stupidly oblivious to the danger. “I’m not an idiot. You’re an idiot.”
Whatever chance she had, she’d squandered it for no other purpose than being a moron. Couldn’t say I was surprised.
The two zombies closed in, their grasping hands reaching out for her.
“Hey, let go. That’s mine!”
One of the shambling horrors had grabbed hold of a handful of hair, but it wasn’t hers. It pulled back, yanking the doll’s head off and then greedily stuffing it into its mouth.
“You broke it,” Darlene whispered, softly at first, but quickly growing louder. “You broke my doll, YOU FUCKING PRICK!”
What...the...hell?
Darlene leapt at the zombie, moving more like an angry badger than a first grader, and tackled it to the ground.
She grasped one of her other dolls by the waist and then slammed it down, driving its leg deep into the zombie’s eye socket. Busy as I was keeping the one atop me from tearing me to pieces, I could only watch wide-eyed as she dispatched the shit out of her foe.
Sadly, one of the monsters was still on its feet. It lurched toward Darlene as she continued to face-fuck its friend with a doll leg. I was certain that would be it for her brief, albeit seriously awesome, offensive.
Much to my surprise, though, she didn’t need mine or anyone else’s help.
At the last second, she yanked the doll from the corpse’s brain hole and turned to meet the one coming up behind her. “You want some, too, shit eater?”
It fell upon her just as she jammed the plastic leg up into the soft spot beneath its chin, pounding it in deep until I was certain Barbie was getting a pedicure in its gray matter.
It twitched once and then fell still, but she wasn’t quite finished yet.
Darlene shimmied out from beneath the corpse then stalked over to where I was, perhaps seconds away from the last of the undead chewing through the tough leather of my arm guard to the soft flesh beneath.
“Oh yeah, almost forgot. Fuck you, too!”
I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the zombie, but maybe it didn’t matter. She dug the tiny fingers of one hand into its gaping eye socket and used that as leverage to pull its head back. With her other hand, she speared the now gore-drenched doll leg into its ear, and proceeded to push it in—deeper and deeper—until the creature finally stopped squirming.
Seeing that our enemies were defeated, she stepped back, wiped her hands off on her pants, then resumed her normal vacuous gaze. “Can we go home now?”
I don’t know how long I lay there, staring up at her in disbelief before I finally remembered I had a voice. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
“Good, because I want some SpaghettiOs.”
Without saying a word, I got up, collected my stuff, and then grabbed the handle of the wagon. Darlene stepped from the front door, and I followed her into the now silent street
. The sun was starting to set, but the scrapyard wasn’t too far away. An easy walk, even pulling my pasta-laden burden.
“When we get back, want to have a tea party?”
I instinctively opened my mouth and prepared to tell her to go fuck herself sideways with a hunk of rusty metal, but then she turned and looked back at me. In that moment, I realized the gaze in her eyes—the one I always mistook for base stupidity—was anything but. I was staring into the cold merciless void, and it was staring back, waiting to see who blinked first.
Suddenly, it all became clear to me. I’d thought I was the big dog in town when all along I’d been doing nothing but piddling in the puppy park.
I blinked.
“Sure. I’d love to come to your tea party.”
THE END
About the Author
Rick Gualtieri lives alone in central New Jersey with only his wife, three kids, and countless pets to both keep him company and constantly plot against him. When he’s not busy monkey-clicking words, he can typically be found jealously guarding his collection of vintage Transformers from all who would seek to defile them.
Defilers beware!
Also by Rick Gualtieri
Bill the Vampire (The Tome of Bill - 1)
Night Stalker: A Tome of Bill Series Companion
Scary Dead Things (The Tome of Bill - 2)
The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill - 3)
Holier Than Thou (The Tome of Bill - 4)
Sunset Strip: A Tome of Bill Series Companion
Goddamned Freaky Monsters (The Tome of Bill - 5)
Half A Prayer (The Tome of Bill - 6)
The Wicked Dead (The Tome of Bill - 7)
Shining Fury: A Tome of Bill Series Companion
The Last Coven (The Tome of Bill - 8)
The Tome of Bill Series: Volume One
The Tome of Bill Series: Volume Two
Bigfoot Hunters
Lycan Moon
Midnite’s Daughter
ABOUT AUTHORS & DRAGONS
The Legend of Jimmy Headshot (Shingles Book 6) Page 7