Undead Cheesehead (Monsters in the Midwest Book 3)

by Scott Burtness

  “I, I th-think we need to go, Dallas,” Stanley said quietly.

  “We have to bring him with,” Lois pleaded. “We have to help him.”

  Dallas stooped and gathered the dead woman into his arms. Standing again, he cradled her as gently as he could to his chest. Blood seeped from the deep wound in the back of her skull and spread in a wet, growing stain across the front of his coat.

  “No. We don’t,” he said. Without another word, he walked out of the house. A moment later, Deloris’s engine rumbled.

  Shaken, Lois and Herb followed, leaving Stanley alone with his undead clone. He looked over the house they had each called home. Broken bodies littered the floor. The furniture was covered in blood. Tables had been upended and smashed. His beloved televisions were ruined. Exhausted and empty, he tried to find a piece of his life that hadn’t been lost. When he found it, a small sob worked its way from his constricted chest.

  The glass still had the coaster from Steinknockers duct taped to the top. It rested on its side in the corner of the room, miraculously untouched. Inside, a strange little horse fly roamed its confines and twitched its desiccated wings. Stanley tried to borrow Dallas’s rage, his righteous indignation, but it didn’t fit. He wasn’t a victim. He’d done this to himself. Literally.

  “You and me, we sure d-did make a mess of things, d-didn’t we,” he said.

  “Yaaaaaahhhhh,” the zombie agreed.

  “D-do you even know you’re a clone? That you and me, we’re kinda like brothers?”

  “Nnnnaaaaaaahhhh,” the zombie replied after a moment, slowly shaking its head.

  Deloris’s horn blared from outside. Stanley heard Herb yell that there were more zombies coming. With a final, sad look at his unfortunate twin, he squatted down next to the stain of Aletia’s blood on his living room carpet. It took a moment to find what he’d hoped would be there. When he did spot the long, dark hair, hope fluttered deep in his chest.

  “I’ll fix this,” he promised the other Stanley as he tore a page from a nearby book and folded the hair up inside. “B-but what am I g-gonna do about you?”

  Stanley ran to join his friends, his question hanging unanswered between the dead and the undead reminders of a foolish decision gone horribly awry.

  Chapter 23

  Dallas drove without direction. His eyes were continually pulled to the rearview mirror, as if waiting to see Aletia pop up from the truck’s bed and wave that everything was okay, she was fine, and it had all been one big misunderstanding. Lois and Herb held each other in the back seat, neither one able to speak. Stanley rode shotgun and stared out the window at a night made darker by all they had lost.

  A small roadside motel appeared on the horizon. A cone of light cast by a single pole showed a vacant lot, but the office lights were on. Dallas pulled up in front and put Deloris in park. With a gruff command that everyone should stay in the truck, he went and pulled on the door. It didn’t budge, so he peered in a window and then gave the door a mighty kick. A moment later, he returned with a room key.

  “No one’s there,” he said in a flat monotone. “Living or dead or both.”

  “They probably ran off,” Lois reasoned. “But we should still be careful.”

  “Whatever,” Dallas replied.

  The room Dallas had selected was at the far end of the row. He and Herb went in first to make sure it was safe, then waved Lois and Stanley inside. Two full-sized beds with floral-print bedspreads occupied most of the space. While everyone shed their bloodied coats and slipped off their boots, Dallas went back to Deloris and retrieved Aletia’s body. After carrying her back into the room, he laid her gently on one of the beds.

  Herb and Lois exchanged a look. The vampire slipped his boots back on and headed outside. When he returned, he held up another key and hooked a thumb at the adjacent room. Lois gathered up her coat and told Stanley to come along.

  “Oh, um. If it’s all the same, I’m g-gonna stay here for a b-bit,” he said. “Just, you know. G-gonna make sure Big D is okay.”

  The witch and vampire nodded their understanding and left him alone with his werewolf friend and the dead woman on the bed.

  “You don’t need to be here, Stanley,” Dallas said. “I appreciate it and all, but I’m fine. You go on.”

  Stanley ignored his friend and instead went to the table between the two beds. A cheap excuse for an alarm clock rested on the tabletop’s wood veneer, it’s red digital digits proclaiming that it wasn’t quite midnight. Stanley slid the table back so he could reach the clock’s plug and yanked the cord from the wall.

  “Look, Stanley, whatever you’re doing, I’m sure you think it’s important. But I gotta be honest, now ain’t really the best time for, well, whatever it is you’re doing. I just want to be alone, alright?”

  “Nobody, not nobody wants to be alone, Dallas,” Stanley responded absently. “That just isn’t how it is.”

  He retrieved his coat and pulled his alarm clock from one pocket and a folded piece of paper from the other. Returning to the table, he leaned over and fought with the outlet until the plug was situated the right way and pressed it firmly into the slots. His alarm clock blinked 12:00 until Stanley pressed the hour-button and started the blue digits on a slow climb. After a few moments, the numbers reached 12:00 again, and the little ‘p.m.’ indicator lit up.

  “Shoot. I didn’t ch-check the time. What time is it D-Dallas?” he asked.

  Dallas shrugged, irritation plain in the gesture.

  “Oh, okay. P-probably won’t matter if it’s not exact. J-just one more sec.”

  Stanley set the time to 11:57 p.m. Next, he unfolded a little scrap of paper, held it near the clock, and pressed down on a small button on the side. He counted quietly to five and released the button. That task finished, he pressed down the alarm button until a blue 12:00 started to blink again and the ‘p.m.’ indicator went dark. Still holding the alarm button, he pressed down the hour button and held it until the clock had cycled all the way through twenty-four hours. Finally, he turned the clock and pointed its digital display toward the empty bed.

  “Okey doke,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

  At the same time, Dallas’s patience ran out. “Stanley, I really need you to leave, buddy. I gotta have some words with the Great Wolf, and I’d rather do that in private, you know? Just, for crap’s sake, just let me alone for a bit, would ya?”

  Instead of leaving, Stanley moved to the armchair in the corner of the room and settled into its worn and cigarette-burned upholstery.

  “I’m not gonna ask again,” Dallas warned, voice raw with emotion.

  Stanley finally looked at his friend. “You’ve known me for how long, now?”

  The werewolf looked confused. “Gosh, I dunno. Fifteen, twenty years? More? High school, I guess.”

  Stanley nodded. “And in all them years, you always thought I was m-me, right?”

  “Of course I thought you were you. Look, Lois and Herby told me all about the first you, and you being a clone or whatever. But that don’t matter. You’re Stanley. My buddy. My pal. Always have been, always will be. And that’s why I’m asking you, as a friend, just to give a guy a little space.”

  “Space,” Stanley agreed. “That’s where that c-came from.”

  He pointed across the room to his little alarm clock. It truly was a thing of beauty. A reliable wonder of plastic and circuitry with a blue liquid crystal display. Just when Dallas turned to look at it, the digital display flipped to midnight. Stanley heard the buzz, and instantly imagined the helpful little clock was talking to him, just like any other morning.

  “It’s time,” it buzzed. “It’s that time that you indicated was important. I’m so glad I was able to help wake you at this very important time.”

  Stanley wished he could come up with a truly wonderful way to thank his alarm clock. This time more than ever. As the electronic beep filled the motel room, a shadow formed above the empty bed. It stretched and b
allooned and started to spark with an inner light, looking like a tiny little thundercloud lit from within by brief flashes of lightning. The shapelessness began to take on shape. A split formed in the strange cloud near the foot of the bed and worked its way up, separating into two parallel lengths of churning, flickering smoke. Near the top of the bed, the dark cloud pulsed and pushed two more lengths out to either side. The ethereal substance quickened, the change making it look more like a heavy gel. Its vague shape accentuated, and more concrete details started to appear. Black boots with dark laces. Black leggings covering lean, muscled thighs. Hips rounded and stomach flattened and breasts swelled. Fingers splayed, and finally, the features of a face shaped and formed.

  The entire shape was still a uniform dark grey. Little flashes of light still pulsed from within, and with each flash new details began to emerge. Colors and textures painted themselves across the golem. Individual strands of hair separated. Skin deepened to a rich brown. Lips reddened.

  Her chest rose with a breath, her eyes opened, and a satisfied yawn stretched her mouth wide. Aletia pushed herself up with her arms, yawned again, and then realized she was not alone.

  “Dallas?” she gasped. “Stanley? What are you doing here?”

  Dallas hadn’t moved. From the moment the alarm clock had started to beep, he’d been transfixed, staring at the newly forming woman. When Aletia spoke, it broke the spell. A hand reached out and clumsily pressed the snooze bar before reaching for her.

  “You’re back,” he whispered, unbelieving. “You’re actually back.”

  “Back from where?” she asked, confused, and then she saw her dead body lying in repose on the other bed.

  “What the…” she managed before being shocked to silence.

  Stanley was really curious to see what happened next, since it had been his fate more than a few times. Stanley Prime had talked about the dead body being reclaimed. He finally had a chance to see what exactly that meant, and leaned forward with impatient interest.

  His curiosity was satisfied a moment later, although what happened wasn’t terribly exciting. It was a bit like watching the creation of Aletia in reverse. Color drained away from her lifeless body and clothes until everything was reduced to the same smoky grey. Details started to melt away, reducing the body to a nondescript mannequin. The melting and softening continued until what was on the bed was only vaguely person-shaped. The gel-like substance thinned into something more closely resembling a cloud. It shrank slowly down to a small, roiling ball and then finally, dissipated completely. Where a dead body had been, there was now only a bed. Body, clothes, and even the blood stains on the covers had all been reclaimed.

  “Whoah,” he exclaimed. “That was d-different.”

  Dallas and Aletia turned abruptly to look at him, as if they’d just realized he was there.

  “What just happened?” Aletia asked.

  Dallas spoke before Stanley had a chance. “What do you remember?” he asked carefully.

  Aletia talked about being at Ronnie’s diner and learning that his pickup truck had been spotted. She remembered riding over there with Jonah, Stanley, and a couple of other hunters. She remembered fighting her way into the house, and using Stanley as a shield.

  “Oh, um. Lo siento, Stanley,” she said with a self-conscious frown.

  She remembered seeing Dallas. She remembered their reunion and… And…

  “And you were bit,” Dallas finished for her quietly. “By another Stanley. A zombie one, not this one. Do you remember that?”

  Aletia’s dark eyes widened in remembered fear and her hands covered her mouth. A small, “Si,” escaped her lips.

  “I t-told you I could save everyone,” Stanley said, unable to keep quiet any longer. “I t-told you and Jonah and everyone else in the d-diner, and you all laughed at me. Not so f-funny now, is it? No sir.”

  A knock hammered at the door. Aletia and Stanley started, but Dallas told them to relax, he could smell that it was just Herb and Lois. He crossed to the room’s door, and the vampire and witch burst into the room.

  “I heard!” Herb said. “Sorry, I um. I wasn’t listening. Not really. But you know, my ears are real good, and it was pretty quiet in our room since Lois had fallen asleep, and these little hotels, I swear the walls are like tissue paper… but anyway, I heard! Holy crappola, Stanley. How in the heck did you do that?”

  Stanley beamed. “Wasn’t so hard,” he said modestly. “Prime showed me a b-bunch of stuff. It made a lot of sense, and then I f-fiddled with the clock, and now it’ll clone anybody, and even get their clothes on right, not backward like it d-did to me back in high school. I’m not so sure how it knows what clothes to p-put on, but it does. Pretty g-great, don’cha think?”

  “Anybody?” Lois said, finally comprehending just what Stanley had in mind.

  “Everybody,” he replied, earning a delighted laugh from Lois and a whoop from Herb.

  Aletia rose up from the bed and studied Lois, Herb, Stanley, and finally, Dallas. Her brow furrowed and she chewed her lip. Her fingers pulled nervously at the hem of her coat. Finally, she spoke.

  “You were telling the truth. At the cabin. You don’t want to hurt people. You aren’t… You aren’t evil. And you,” she added, pointing at Stanley. “You think that little thing will really work on everyone?”

  Stanley nodded. “Yep,” he said. “D-don’t see why not.”

  The hunter nodded. “Then we need to get back to the truckstop. Right now.”

  Chapter 24

  Dallas let up on the accelerator, and Stanley peered through the windshield.

  “G-gosh, Aletia. Your friends have been b-busy,” he observed.

  When he’d left a matter of hours earlier, the truckstop, diner and gift emporium had a loose ring of semi-trucks around the building, and its windows were boarded up and reinforced. Now, it looked like a post-apocalyptic fortress. The gaps between and beneath the semis were filled with wooden pallets, old tires, fifty-five gallon drums, and other truckstop detritus. Spikes and poles jutted haphazardly from the junk, making the ring look like a steampunk porcupine. Flood lamps were positioned at regular intervals. They bathed the surrounding parking lot with a harsh light and ensured that anything bigger than a field mouse would be easily seen by the Society sentries that prowled the tops of the semi-trailers. There were no zombies at the moment, but the entire place radiated a sense of grim readiness.

  Even though Dallas had stopped a long distance from the barricades, he was sure Deloris’s headlights had been seen.

  “All them folks up there, it’s a sure bet they saw us coming,” he complained.

  “No problema,” Aletia said. “Just approach slowly. They’re smart enough to know zombies don’t drive.”

  “Or if they d-do,” Stanley added, “they probably don’t do it well.”

  Dallas did as instructed and idled forward. He had just reached the edge of the circle of light when a sharp report was followed by the terrifying sound of a bullet hitting metal.

  “They shot Deloris!” he screamed. “Holy shit, they shot my baby!”

  Aletia placed a steading hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Everyone knows your truck. It was a warning shot. They don’t know I’m back, so they’re just trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”

  “Well, get out there and tell them to stop shooting,” he complained. “Assholes could’ve hit the radiator. Those are expensive to replace.”

  Aletia climbed down from the truck and raised her hands above her head. In a clear voice, she called out to the sentries.

  “It’s Aletia! Don’t shoot. It’s me!”

  “The hell it is,” a woman’s voice shot back. “Aletia’s dead. Whatever you are, you ain’t her.”

  “Monique, I swear it’s me. You’ve been hunting with us for three years, ever since your mom got snatched by a lake monster in Vermont. You keep a picture of her in a locket, and you had a cat named Mr. Stinkers.”

  Stanley squinted against the brigh
t glare of the flood lamps. He could see a woman’s silhouette and saw other shapes gathering around her. Aletia needed to convince them quick, or there’d be a lot more guns pointed in their direction real soon.

  “Get Jonah,” Aletia called out. “We’re not armed,” she added, and then turned back to look over her shoulder. “Are we?”

  Dallas poked his head out of the driver’s side window. “Nope. Unless you count these guns,” he added, flexing a bicep.

  “We’re not armed,” Aletia repeated.

  Voices from the trailer tops called out. A few moments later, a chunk of corrugated steel that had been propped up between the end of the trailer and the next semi’s cab was lifted and swung to the side. Jonah appeared, carrying the giant chunk of steel like it weighed no more than a beer can. After he set it aside, he took a few steps into the light.

  “Aletia?” he called out. “Come forward, but just you. Your friends stay put. If that truck even moves an inch, we’ll put every bullet we have into it.”

  “Entiendo,” she replied and took slow, measured steps into the light.

  “That’s far enough,” another voice called out.

  Stanley squinted harder, but couldn’t make out the person that just spoke.

  “Herb?” he asked. “C-can you see who all’s up there?”

  Herb obliged, his supernaturally keen eyes scanning the scene before them. “The giant one. A woman and a few men are still up top on the trailers. The guy that just spoke? Hang on a sec. Yeah, yep. It’s him. It’s the guy that shot you with a crossbow back at Dallas’s house.

  “D-Dempsey,” Stanley said. “Oh boy. That one’s bad news. Real b-bad news, yes sir.”

  Lois shushed them and continued to listen to the exchange just outside of the truck.

  “You’re dead,” Dempsey said, matter-of-fact.

  “Si, I was,” Aletia agreed. “But there’s some next-level shit happening here. The people in that truck aren’t our enemies. They saved me.”

  “The people in that truck aren’t people,” Dempsey corrected. “By my count, you’ve got a werewolf, a vampire, and a witch in there. And if the rumors are true, an alien.”