Kilomba stood and banged his chest as he let out a roar. Birds scatted from all directions resembling a black cloud emerging from the treetops.
The radio squawked to life. “I was going to use one of my men for bait, but he’s out of the cave. We’re going in. Copy?”
“Copy that, Roscoe. Good luck,” the Professor said, replacing the radio on his belt. Then turned to the women. “You might want to cover your ears.”
Four concussion grenades flew out the jungle and landed to either side of Kilomba. The Professor and his party were far away enough that all they heard were four short pops.
Kilomba’s body shuddered as the sudden blast of kinetic energy hit him. Professor Brigtsen thought he could see the shock waves roll through the giant’s skin.
Three of Roscoe’s men emerged from the jungle with rifles raised. The tranquilizer darts flew through the air finding its target in the confused zombie ape. As fast as they were able, the three reloaded and fired again.
“The men did a fine job,” the Professor said. “I can see all six bright red darts sticking in the torso.”
“How long will it take for him to go under?” Changchang asked.
“It could take as long as three-minutes. Each one carried enough punch to stop a bull elephant.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Mary said.
Kilomba turned his gaze toward the men, having recovered from the blast. The tranquilizers had no effect.
The men fell back into the jungle. One narrowly escaped the sweeping arm of Kilomba as he made a grab.
“Fall back! Fall back!” Captain Roscoe screamed. “All right, mates. It’s a go for plan B. Fire when ready.”
Professor Brigtsen watched as small orange flashes lit the jungle perimeter from Roscoe’s men, filling the valley with chain fire from automatic rifles. “That bloody bastard isn’t slowing down at all. Nzambi, what we call zombie. I now understand. I’m finally starting to believe that perhaps that beast is somehow dead and yet has been reanimated back to life.”
“He’s going into the jungle after the men. Oh, David. What if he can’t be stopped? What will we do? He’ll kill us all.” Mary ran to the Professor and held his arm.
“Now, now, Mary. Don’t worry. Captain Roscoe has a plan. One where the terrain will come into play and will defeat that monster.” Professor Brigtsen signaled to Changchang with a nod.
“Do you really think so? I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. This is like a living nightmare,” Mary said.
Professor Brigtsen grasped her by her shoulders and pushed her away as he looked her in the eyes. “You have absolutely nothing to be concerned about. I am here by your side. To have and to hold. Till death do us part.”
Changchang smashed the side of Mary’s head with a large chunk of limestone, sending her straight to the ground.
“Thank goodness. I don’t believe I could have stood to hear that annoying voice for another second,” the Professor said, wiping his palms on his shirt.
“I have dreamed of this moment for a long time. We won’t have to sneak around anymore, pretending only to be teacher and student,” Changchang said.
“No too fast, my dear. I must play the role of the grieving widower long enough to avoid suspicion. You better learn how to fake a tear or two if you know what’s good for you.”
Changchang nodded her head. “I know . . . I just want us to be happy. Do you think the others are far enough away to go ahead with our plan and toss her down the hill?”
“Alas, I have thought of it. Now that it is a reality, I can’t bring myself to watch her to tumble down like a rag doll.” Brigtsen narrowed his eyes. “I want that bitch to suffer.”
Changchang bit her lower lip. “What do you mean?”
“I want to tie her up and leave her in Kilomba’s cave. Roscoe will either be unsuccessful and Kilomba will return to the cave and find her as a tasty snack. Or he will kill the beast, and she will wake in darkness. All alone, her only companions the creepy crawlers of the earth to pick at her soft flesh bit by bit.” The Professor removed his hat and slicked back his hair. “Either way, it would not equal the years of misery I have endured. We won’t have to worry about her being found, the villagers wouldn’t dare trod on scared ground.”
The Professor wrapped Mary’s hands and legs with thick packing cord while Changchang circled duct tape around her mouth and head. The two now shared a secret that would bind them tighter than the scared oath of marriage.
* * *
“That was a truly dreadful thing to happen, Professor Brigtsen. I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Roscoe said, his hand on Brigtsen’s shoulder.
“It happened so fast . . . it didn’t seem real. Mary lagged behind on our way back to the village when the saber-tooth sprang out of nowhere and dragged her off. I was in total shock,” the Professor’s voice broke. “Perhaps if I had reacted faster I could have given her a chance,” he stopped and rubbed his eyes until they were red.
“Now, Professor. You didn’t have a prayer against that prehistoric beast,” Roscoe said.
“By . . . by the time Changchang and I tracked it down . . . she had been torn to pieces. I wanted to kill the brute with my bare hands,” the Professor hesitated. “Then it looked and me and roared showing me its bloodstained teeth. I knew I could do nothing to help Mary. Not wanting to make matters worse, I realized my responsibility was to lead Changchang to safety. Here we are now, there Mary is. God forgive me . . . .”
“You did the right thing, Professor. You had no other choice,” Roscoe slapped him on the back. “At least the ape is no more. We filled him with so much lead that he probably weighed twice what he should have. Fortunately the plan worked. We coaxed him to the edge of the cliff and sent him plunging five-hundred feet over the edge to the rocks below.
“The ship should be in position right about now to haul the carcass on board. I hope his remains will still be worth something to you.”
“Come in, Captain Roscoe,” the radio squawked to life.
“You see? Right on time.” Roscoe keyed the microphone. “Roscoe, here. Go ahead.”
“Captain, we’re at the coordinates you provided. There’s nothing here sir. Are you sure the coordinates are correct?”
“Of course they’re correct. Did the tide pull the body out to sea?”
“No, sir. The tide won’t roll out for another five hours.”
“Hold your position and wait for further instruction,” Roscoe said, and stroked the stubble on his chin.
A young warrior ran into the village, speaking franticly and making elaborate gestures with his arms.
“What now?” Roscoe said.
The Professor rose from his chair and hurried outside the hut, Captain Roscoe followed.
Changchang was outside. She acted like she wanted to run to his side, but hesitated.
The earth shook slightly. The jungle rumbled with brush and small trees crunching under massive weight.
“I don’t believe it,” Brigtsen said.
The jungle parted and the Ape-God emerged to claim his sacrifice. His body flayed from bullet fire and dragging his left leg behind as he lumbered forward.
“Kilomba lives,” the Professor said to himself. “Or worse, Kilomba cannot die.”
Then the professor saw a sight that startled him more than the combined surprise of seeing the saber-tooth and the zombie ape. Mary hung tightly around Kilomba’s neck.
“There,” she yelled in the God’s ear.
Professor Brigtsen froze in shock, numb in horror, and stood with his mouth open wide.
Roscoe and Changchang backed away as Kilomba snatched Brigtsen up and bit off his left arm at the shoulder.
He was only a few feet from Mary as she clung to Kilomba’s neck. She gave him an evil grin.
“Like you said, David. ‘Until death do us part.’” Mary laughed from a place of madness. Bones crunched with each mouthful and Brigtsen’s screams ended abruptly. Mary wished they
could have lasted longer.
Satisfied with the daily sacrifice, Kilomba tuned away from the village and headed to the solace of his cave.
Mary slid from his neck and down his back, her feet landing on the ground.
Changchang backed up as Mary approached her, and halted when she bumped into Roscoe.
Mary stopped when she reached arm’s distance and slugged Changchang with her fist.
Changchang fell to her backside on the ground, and rubbed her chin.
“You two should have had a better plan. You should have paid more attention to detail,” Mary said, standing over Changchang. “Kilomba only eats men.”
The End
Zombie’s Honor
It was one of those hot and sticky July evenings in south Louisiana. The sun neared the horizon and the sky had turned pink and the clouds a grayish blue. The leaves on the trees sparkled as they filtered the last light of day.
The kids already had the campfire burning. The limbs of a dead pecan tree provided fuel that would last the night. The tree had been a victim of a tornado spun off tropical storm Candy the previous year. The 1968 hurricane season had been quiet for Louisiana so far. Florida hadn’t been so lucky having sustained four.
The campout wasn’t an official Boy Scouts of America event, but all the kids present were current members of the national organization. This was an annual family outing where the cousins could all get together and the men get away from their wives.
Chris was there with his son, Erik. Greg, with his sons, Wyatt and Blakey. Shane (Big Daddy) had the most with Caleb, Hayden, and Brennan. As usual, Richmond was there without his father.
Richmond’s father wanted a better life for himself and family than working shift work at the local refinery would provide. He instead chose an education and worked nights at a grocery store to pay his way through medical college. After graduation he joined the U.S. Navy and earned enough benefits to pay his way to become a General Physician. Doctors live a very hectic life, off time had to be divided according to needs. Richmond’s father thought more of his needs than his son’s. Still, Richmond thought the world of his father and made every effort to make him proud.
The boys’ ages varied from ten to seventeen. Richmond was the oldest of the bunch. Both he and Brennan had achieved the highest badge of honor of The Boy Scouts: The Eagle Scout.
The camp set about half a mile off the road on property owned by Grace Baptist Church where Greg was a deacon. The property totaled nearly fifty acres. It had a pond that teamed with catfish and plenty of woods to hunt squirrels in the fall.
Trespassing on the church’s cemetery was forbidden, and the only area restricted to the campers. The cemetery was the oldest in the Parish, and was on the state Scenic Byways route.
The setting of the sun awakened the southern house mosquito, or what Louisianans mockingly referred to as their ‘State bird.’ Smoke from the fire offered some protection from the pesky biters, and the boys gathered close by it despite the July heat.
Big Daddy Shane came to their rescue with a can of bug spray. “Boys, y’all gather ’round so I can spray some mosquito dope on you,” he said, while vigorously shaking a can of repellent.
“Do we have to? That stuff stinks,” said Brennan, his oldest.
“If y’all go home all bit up I’m going to catch hell from the woman. Now, come closer. This stuff can catch on fire, and I don’t want you to burst into flames.” The boys fell in line, and Big Daddy gave them all a head to toe spraying.
Hayden was Big Daddy’s youngest and an aspiring ventriloquist. He didn’t have a puppet for his ‘act,’ and instead improvised by holding out his right hand while flexing his index finger as if it were speaking while he told a joke.
“Knock, knock?” Hayden announced to the group in a high-pitched animated voice. “Knock, knock?”
The guys meandered about, staking out areas to roll out sleeping bags.
“Come on. Knock, knock?”
“Who’s there?” Uncle Chris answered, because he knew Hayden wouldn’t give up until someone did.
“Abe.”
“Abe who?”
“Abe C D E F G,” Hayden giggled.
Several groans went out. One of the boys yelled, “That’s not funny.”
“Hey, why did the man with the pony tail go see the doctor?” Wyatt thought he would take a turn. “Because he was a little hoarse.”
“Wyatt, that doesn’t even make sense.” Richmond was not known for his sense of humor.
“It’s a joke. It doesn’t have to make sense,” Wyatt said defensively. “Your turn. Tell us a joke.”
Richmond thought a moment. “What’s Irish and lies around in the sun all day? Patty O’Furniture.” There was silence, and the sound of crickets literally filled the air.
“That’s not funny. What else is patio furniture supposed to do?” Wyatt rebuffed.
Uncle Chris laughed and thought of a thousand inappropriate jokes he could tell.
“Not patio furniture, you dummy. Patty, a first name. O’Furniture, his last name. He’s Irish.”
“That’s not a real name,” Wyatt said.
“That’s enough, Wyatt. Get Blakey, and get the hot dogs out of the ice chest. It’s time to roast some wienies,” Uncle Greg said. He was the closest thing to a mother these boys would have for the next few days.
The roaring flames of the fire had transformed into bright glowing embers, perfect for cooking tonight’s meal. Each wiener had been impaled on a young branch from a red maple tree Big Daddy cut with this pocketknife. The boys sat around the fire, meticulously turning their tube steak to get the proper amount of blistering on the skin.
Loaves of white bread, condiments, and paper plates set on a folding card table. Along with an Igloo water cooler filled with grape Kool-Aid and several bags of chips. Each boy prepared his own meal and sat on rolled sleeping bags as they ate by the light of the fire.
Clean-up of the meal went swiftly. All the garbage ended up in the fire. The kids took a bathroom break and unrolled their sleeping bags for the night.
Big Daddy threw some more wood on the fire and wandered off into the woods. Uncle Chris and Uncle Greg retrieved three aluminum folding chairs and a cooler of adult beverages from the station wagon, and set up next to the fire.
“All right, kids. It’s time for tonight’s ghost story,” Uncle Chris’s said, to the delight of the boys. All the kids, young and old, settled in and turned their attention to the storyteller. Chris waited until all the fidgeting stopped, and with a wicked smile, began the tale.
“Tonight scary story, boys and ghouls, I call, ‘Black Aggie.’ Years ago, a wealthy businessman made some bad investments and was about to lose his mansion. So, he took out an insurance policy and poisoned his wife and got a one million dollar pay out.”
“Wow, a million dollars!” Blakey chimed.
“Sshh. Now, in her honor at the cemetery, he had a bronze statue of a grieving angel placed by her headstone. It was said that when the statue was unveiled at the funeral, the face seemed to change before everyone’s eyes. The sad grieving face twisted into an expression of someone in terrible pain. And if you got too close to the statue you would get a sense of fear that the arms—COULD REACH OUT AND GRAB YOU!” Chris paused, and took a sip from a can wrapped in a brown paper bag.
“Hey. What’s that smell?” Caleb asked.
“That’s you,” Informed Erik.
“Not-uh!”
“He who smelt it, dealt it,” Erik said while grabbing his nose.
Chris smelled it too and wondered if a skunk had come to visit or if a coyote was nearby. The wind shifted and the air cleared again.
Chris continued, “There were stories that at night dead spirits would rise from their graves and gather around the statue. And if any pregnant woman passed though the shadow of the statue, she would miscarry. And if anyone would go at midnight and look into the eyes of the statue, they would glow red, and you would be—STRUCK BLIND F
OR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. And . . . whew . . . there’s that smell again.”
A rustling in the woods had everyone straining to see through the darkness. Someone, or something, was definitely out there. Greg quickly did a head count. Everyone was around the fire except for Big Daddy. “Chris. What do you think it is?”
“Don’t know. Where’s Big Daddy?” Chris asked as he turned on a flashlight and scanned the area. The rustling moved toward them, and the light illuminated a pair of eyes in the woods.
“It’s got two reds eyes! It’s Black Aggie!” Blakey yelled.
The kids huddled together for safety. Chris and Greg looked at one another contemplating what to do next.
“Big Daddy. Shane. Is that you?” Greg called out. “Big Daddy. Are you out there?”
“That’s probably Uncle Shane. I bet he’s got that mangy big foot costume on again,” Richmond surmised.
“Hey, guys. What do you want? Can’t a guy take a dump in peace?” All heads turned as Big Daddy exited the woods on the opposite side of the commotion. Chris bathed him in the flashlight, revealing Shane with a roll of toilet paper under his arm.
“Cut that light off. Are you trying to blind me?”
The kids all screamed again. Chris whipped the light back around on the thing that emerged from the woods.
Something that looked more like a skeleton than a human being lurched its way toward them. It was dressed in a soiled, torn, blue dress suit. It had long matted black and silver hair behind a face of rotted flesh. Its lips and nose had deteriorated long ago, giving it the ghastly smile of a human skull.
Everyone went silent for a moment, frozen, not comprehending what they were seeing. The creature seemed to be moving in slow motion, and none of it seemed real.
Chris snapped to his senses. This guy must be on dope, he thought. It didn’t matter, being six feet two inches tall, and around 240 pounds, he had no reason to fear the bag of bones. Even if he didn’t quite understand just what was going on, there were children to protect.
Chris called for the walking corpse to stop. His voice was a little weak at first, but as the zombie continued, anger took over as he shouted his final warning. The rotting ghoul didn’t slow.
A Fistful of Zombies: 12 Zombie Tales Page 20