Dead Drunk II: Dawn of the Deadbeats (Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time Book 2)

by Richard Johnson

  “My God,” Mary said.

  “The Chinese called it The Perfect Day, and they modeled it after the sneak attack in Hue, Vietnam.”

  “I was in Viet—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Russ,” Trent said.

  “Anyway, they’d been studying our weaknesses for years and knew everything about us. They had sniper teams take out half of congress on the first day. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Local government, sheriff’s departments, power plant workers… talk about a decapitation strike. And of course, the way they captured cities was horrible. The Rape of Nanking had nothing on the fall of Los Angeles. They marched people right into the sea to save bullets.”

  “Chicago wasn’t exactly a picnic either, buddy,” Trent said.

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Why did they do it?” Mary said. “I just don’t understand. It’s not like we attacked them. We didn’t… right? I never really followed the news.”

  Childers leaned forward. “We didn’t attack them first, and we still don’t know what precipitated this heinous act. I suppose it’s possible they never actually got over the Opium Wars. The Chinese psyche is a very delicate thing, and their culture keeps grudges for a long time.”

  “Opium Wars, huh?” Trent said, taking a much keener interest in the conversation. “Now there’s a war I could get behind.”

  “I do know the invasion had been planned for some time, and even Mexico was in on it. When our escort plane landed as a decoy, they blew it up on the tarmac. We’ve been hiding out ever since, going from one Podunk to the next as our numbers dwindled. It seems the plane’s lack of proper maintenance finally caught up with us, not to mention the fact that the runway here was way too small.”

  “Do you have any idea what caused it? The virus or whatever it is that’s turning people into—”

  “Zombies,” Russ said emphatically, interrupting Padma.

  President Childers nodded. “We had trouble finding out for weeks until an isolated research center got back to us. You’re right that it is a virus. What’s interesting is what the virus does. You see, it shuts down an area of the brain called the claustrum, and thereby disables consciousness. Chinese scientists made some type of artificial chromosome and attached it to—”

  “Boring!” Russ interrupted again.

  Flummoxed, the president decided story time was over and retreated to a separate picnic table to gather his thoughts. The night wore on, and one by one the members of the group dozed off while the president kept a watchful eye on Russ. When Jackie ultimately went into the cab to sleep, Russ was left on watch since he no longer had the urge or need to sleep. Plus he felt like drinking some more. He always did.

  President Childers called the former truck driver over and immediately began to grill Russ about his “situation.” Of course, this was a topic Russ loved to pontificate about, so as the liquor flowed freely, so too did the conversation.

  Russ talked about his truck driving, his ex-wives, and how he became infected. The president was especially interested in all of the super duper powers Russ picked up after said infection, particularly his ability to travel unnoticed by other zombified individuals.

  A plan soon formed in President Childers’s head and he had just a few more questions to ask. “You said you’ve travelled the entire country. Did your wanderings ever take you through Wyoming?”

  “Sure did. I know Wyoming like the back of my nuts,” Russ said and took a swig of the rapidly disappearing Everclear. “Used to haul freight through it for years, back before my license got yanked.”

  “Then you’re probably familiar with the Yellowstone Lake area?”

  “Like the front of my nuts,” Russ said. “Caught a shitload of cutthroat trout there. Out of season. That’s just how I roll.”

  “If I get you close, can you help me find the West Thumb spot?”

  “Yep.”

  “Excellent. That’s where we’re headed. Just the two of us. We’ll fly out immediately.”

  “For what?” Russ asked.

  The president looked him square in the eye. “Russell, your country needs you.” He pointed to the truck. “They need you. We’re gonna end this war.”

  “But why can’t my friends come with?” Russ asked.

  “We require a light footprint. And your special… talents are just what’s required to get the job done.”

  The speech tugged perfectly on Russ’s patriotic heartstrings and played into his delusions of grandeur at the same time. “Sir, let’s fucking do it.” He saluted the president and then walked over by his friends to say a quiet goodbye.

  Russ found Padma sleeping in the front seat and put his hand softly to the window, peering at the dark-skinned beauty for a moment. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I’ll say good night until tonight becomes tomorrow.” Russ put his head down and walked away, his eyes clouding over. “Kinda liked her.”

  “That’s from ‘Romeo and Juliet,’” the president said. “I’m impressed.”

  Russ nodded. “Yeah, I have the porno version memorized.”

  There was an awkward pause as the president questioned his own sanity. He got over it. “Um, let’s go.”

  * * *

  The next morning it quickly became clear that the group had shrunk by two members and one airplane. Trent and Marquell went ballistic while the women searched for clues. It didn’t take them long to find one.

  A note was written on the picnic table in what was most likely Russ’s blood. Padma read the message aloud, shrinking in embarrassment with each line.

  Padmay,

  It is with great sorrow that I must inform you I have been called to serve a higher purpose (have to save the world and stuff). I know we didn’t have a lot of time together, but I feel fortunate to have met you even under such dire circumstances. And although Indian food always gave me the shits, I found you to be one tasty treat. See you in the afterlife. Oh, and the prez says whatever you do, don’t cross the Mississippi.

  Russ Kaminsky,

  Zombie Samurai

  “He spelled your name wrong,” Jackie said as Padma continued to stare at the note, oddly moved by the Civil War-sounding letter.

  “So what do we do now?” Mary said. “They took the only plane we had the keys for.”

  Jackie pointed to the semi. “I suppose we try and locate some diesel and then load up the ol’ ‘Flaming Cowboy’ again. I know the roads aren’t safe, but at this point we don’t have other options. Does anyone know how to drive that thing?” Negative. “Okay, so then we’ll have to learn.”

  Suddenly, Trent got very, very mad. “Hey, where’s the coke?”

  Chapter 22: Dawn of the Deadbeats

  Charlie and the group awoke to the sound of crows squawking in unison as the tiniest bit of sunlight crept through the mausoleum windows. Surprisingly, every one of them had achieved a good night’s sleep. Maybe the alcohol had something to do with it, or even the threat of imminent death combined with being surrounded by solid walls for once. If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well get a good night’s sleep.

  Whatever reason it was, the gang rubbed the sleep from their eyes and gathered up their rudimentary weapons. On the other side of the door were several hundred infected townsfolk with nothing to do but wait.

  Vlad swished the last of the bottle of vodka like mouthwash and then swallowed it with a grin. “Breakfast of champions.”

  “Gross,” Smokey said and spit on the floor, his own mouth tasting of cheap vodka from the previous night.

  “Not Vlad’s fault you drink like bunch of Czech schoolgirls.”

  Smokey shrugged. “Is that an insult or a compliment? I’m still having a hard time telling what’s what with you.”

  Charlie decided there was no point waiting around now that they were well rested, and decided to give an impromptu pep talk. “We’ve made it too far just to die like this. I have to believe it’s for some reason.”

  “Agreed,” Katya said. />
  “Which means we’re gonna bust right on out of here. Rob, Vlad, and myself will lead the way and everyone else make a break for it, right into the forest. If you get split up, head straight west. He looked to Rob and clarified. “Which is the opposite of the sun right now. I know there’s a river ahead like five or ten miles, so wait for the others there. But don’t wait long.” They moved the steel caskets from the door and paused while Charlie looked at each group member in the eyes, maybe for the last time. “We can do this. Ready?”

  They nodded in unison and the crew prepared to sally forth from the doorway in one last valiant charge, with Vlad getting a chance at that magnificent death he had sought for so long.

  Rob pulled the door open, bounded out… and fell down with a crash. He had tripped on a pile of badly burned bodies that had been resting against the mausoleum. Lots and lots of dead bodies, with Pong’s corpse amongst them.

  It seemed the flaming zombies had ignited the surrounding forest, killing the rest of the mob with the one-two punch of fire and smoke inhalation. The creatures simply weren’t smart enough to flee the path of the flames, and as they had crowded together outside the mausoleum, they all died where they stood. Every last one of them.

  “You see,” Katya said. “Someone is looking out for us.”

  Charlie pointed to Pong’s body. “We should bury him and be on our way. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “We can use my shovel,” Katya said.

  For once, Left-Nut had a good idea. “How about we put him in one of those coffins in the mausoleum? It might be a tight fit, and he’ll have some company, but it will save a lot of time.” Everyone agreed, and they set about making it happen.

  Minutes later, Seung Sahn, also known affectionately as Pong, a nineteen-year-old soldier born and raised six thousand miles away in the industrial city of Chongjin, was laid to rest. He would share eternity with a pig-tailed seventeen-year-old girl from the prairie, killed by a fever long ago. Neither had ever had the chance to grow up or fall in love, but both would never be alone again.

  Meanwhile, Vladimir checked over the townsfolk and found several that were still technically alive, despite being horribly disfigured. So Vlad pulled a rusty axe from a nearby tree stump and put them out of their misery with gruesome efficiency. The Bulgarian whistled as he worked, and didn’t break a sweat.

  * * *

  “Okay, pledge, on to the next lesson,” Left-Nut said to Sam. “Let me tell you about why I love fat chicks so much. It comes down to body temperature regulation. They’re warm in the winter and shady in the summer. Then you have your chanky girls. Those are the chunky slash skanky hybrids I told you about. It’s a killer combo for sure.”

  The boy was the last one willing to walk by Left-Nut at this point. Because of this he had become a captive audience over the past several hours as they plodded along yet another deserted country road.

  There was only so much Rob could listen to. “Just leave him alone. He shouldn’t be hearing your garbage.”

  “Garbage? Someone has to carry on my traditions after I’m gone. There’s a lot of wisdom contained underneath this crown of whiteness.”

  “Yeah, you’re a real national treasure,” Rob said.

  “Left-Nut’s a jerk. Left-Nut’s always whacking off. Left-Nut banged Gay Mike,” Left-Nut said mockingly.

  “Dude, all those things are true,” Smokey said.

  Left-Nut huffed. “Regardless, I’m sick of being everybody’s butt-monkey. I get no respect.”

  “Reft-Nut cranky,” Ping said, putting a few of the English words he knew to good use.

  “Suck it, Ping. With teeth like that I bet you could eat corn through a picket fence.”

  “Leave him out of this,” Smokey said. “He doesn’t even know what you’re saying. And I wouldn’t be making fun of anyone’s appearance if I looked like a Benjamin Button version of Don Flamenco.”

  “Hey, you know I got struck by lightning. Low blow.”

  But now Smokey was on a roll. “Guess who else only had one ball? Hitler.”

  “Going Godwin on me?” Left-Nut said, feigning indignance. “But seriously, why am I always the pivot man in the circle-jerk?”

  “Guys drop it,” Charlie said from up ahead. They were fewer than twenty miles from home and he was running low on energy and patience. The closer they got to their destination, the farther away it seemed.

  “This is an A B conversation so… shut the fuck up,” Left-Nut said with a crappy Captain Kirk impersonation. Like usual, he seemed to be enjoying the confrontation.

  But Charlie was not. He stopped walking, turned, and got into his friend’s face. “Fine. I’m sick of this shit. This is like the third time we’ve had this conversation so I’m just gonna lay it on the table. You are completely and utterly worthless. All you are is a mouth that whines, talks shit, complains, and eats. You don’t fight, you don’t scout, and you don’t cook. No, all you do is bitch and annoy.” Charlie turned to the others. “Am I right? Anyone want to speak up for him?” They spoke up all right, but not in his defense. “See, the tribe has spoken.”

  “Like I give two shits,” Left-Nut said softly. “A tribe of fuckin’ losers.”

  “Okay then, if you’re so keen to pass on your knowledge, let’s tell Sam about what you did on senior night.”

  “That’s not necessa—”

  “Oh, but it is,” Charlie said and looked to Sam. “The other football team had a player with downs, and both teams worked out a deal beforehand to let him score at the end of the game.” He pointed at Left-Nut, who was shrinking before their eyes. “But this dickweed sacks the kid and returns the fumble for a touchdown as the clock expired. Spiked the football, moonwalked, and it was game over.”

  And then Left-Nut exploded. “Fuck him, I regret nothing! That was my last chance to score a touchdown, too!”

  “And that’s why you don’t take his advice on anything,” Charlie said and retook his position at the front of the caravan.

  Left-Nut was silent for the rest of the day, and it was clear Charlie’s comments had struck a nerve.

  * * *

  The next morning, Charlie had everyone up and moving before the sun even rose. He was cheerful, there was a spring in his step, and he was cautiously optimistic about what the coming day would bring.

  An hour later the others caught his spirit as they came upon row after row of blueberry bushes. The field had been left to nature, but what the birds and deer had left behind could have fed an entire army. Or a dozen Big Robs.

  “These are better than I remember,” he said after stuffing the umpteenth monster handful into his mouth. “We used to work here during the summer,” he said to Katya and then continued to gorge, his beard stained blue from excess juices. “Best job ever. I ate so many blueberries one time my poop turned blue for a week.”

  “Cool story, bro,” Left-Nut said.

  Rob answered with a blast of blueberries to Left-Nut’s face, and soon everyone else was tossing the tart berries in all directions as an all-out food fight erupted. Even Left-Nut joined in and soon the trials of the day before were but a memory.

  Charlie launched a bunch of berries at Katya, who promptly dodged and fired some back, nailing him in the face. She laughed vigorously at the high jinx and Charlie noticed for the first time just how attractive she was, burned face and all. Katya had the heart-shaped face, defined lips, and striking cheekbones common amongst Ukrainian women, but she also had an inner splendor that matched. Charlie pushed such thoughts aside and filled his pockets with the delicious bounty before ordering everyone onwards.

  The surprise breakfast had been fun, but they were now less than a mile from his parents’ house. With a possible family reunion so tantalizingly close, Charlie could barely keep from running ahead on his own. As the dawn peaked above the eastern horizon, he dared to believe a happy ending was possible. And then he saw his old asshole neighbors.

  The Johnson boys, A.J and B.J., were in the middl
e of the road, shooting pigeons off a telephone wire and laughing hysterically. “The cables line ‘em up real good,” the older one said and adjusted his Red Sox hat.

  “Won’t be fun picking the buckshot out,” B.J. said.

  “Exactly, that’s why you’ll be doing it,” A.J. answered, then turned to greet the newcomers. “Get the fuck off my land!”

  “I’ll handle this,” Charlie said as he approached his childhood neighbors with Vlad and Smokey flanking him. The men before them were bullies, loudmouths, and perennial d-bags – so pretty much exactly the type of person Charlie was used to dealing with.

  “We’re just passing through, Andrew. No need for hostilities.”

  “Charlie Campbell, in the flesh. Glad to see you’re balder than Vin Diesel’s balls.”

  “Nice to see you too, buddy.”

  A.J. was far from finished. “Nice beards on the rest of you dingleberries. What, are you guys hipsters now?”

  “And they’re dressed for Halloween,” B.J. said, piping up like the toady he’d always been.

  Charlie stifled an angry response that disparaged both Bill Buckner and A.J.’s mother. “Razors… have been a little tough to come by. But that’s not important. Like I said, we’re just passing through.”

  “I’d need sheep shears to man-scape at this point,” Left-Nut said to nobody in particular.

  Charlie tried to pass, but A.J. moved to block him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Romeo?”

  Now Charlie’s temperature was starting to rise. “I’m going home. Now the sooner you get out of the way, the sooner you can get back to your Duck Dynasty reach around or whatever it is you’re doing out here.”

  “Now you did it,” B.J. said as his brother’s face turned red.