“What about the proposed rave?” asked Nancy. “This town is going to be flooded with young people. Have you Googled what these ravers look like. They’re going to be staggering around stoned, with stickers under their eyes, acting like a bunch of damned zombies. How will you tell the difference?”
Mayor Vitulli stood and rushed over to the podium. He adjusted the microphone. “Yes, regarding the proposed concert, the town council believes it wise to postpone the event until August, allowing time for our current situation to resolve.”
“I don’t know,” said Melinda Scalli, owner of the Surf Bar and Grill. “Do we really think this town needs any more challenges? Don’t we have enough to deal with before inviting in teens doing drugs and destroying property?”
“There’s no direct connection between concerts and drug use or property destruction,” insisted Mayor Vitulli. “We will have enough manpower to manage any difficulties that may arise.”
“I don’t think you know what a rave is,” said Marie. “It’s not just a ‘concert.’ There is drinking and drugging involved, and I don’t want my kids exposed to that.”
Mayor Vitulli’s expression grew stern. “Listen up, folks. We need to bring in more tourism, or we’re finished. We simply cannot afford another summer like last year. Our very livelihood depends on it.
“I know you all are used to doing things the same way. However, we can no longer survive solely as a family destination. We need to bring in more young people. Young people who don’t necessarily care that there was a zombie outbreak here. Hell, some of them might even like it.” He saw sour faces in the crowd, and there were sounds of disapproval.
“Oh, come off it. You all have embraced this identity. I walk down the boardwalk, and I see everything zombie-themed, and you’re not just capitalizing on the popular cable show. You know that in order to survive as a town, we must own this thing.
“The local press got a whiff of what happened this morning and were reporting on it by midday. Probably right now, as I speak, the network news is covering it. Either we let this thing consume us, or we run with it.
“I promise you, that the concert will not go on until we have this current situation resolved.”
*
The crowd slowly exited town hall all a-chatter.
“I don’t know about all this,” said Vinnie. “First we have a zombie sighting. Then we have the State Police and National Guard. Now they’re talking about still having the rave.”
“I hate to admit it,” said his father, “but the mayor does have a point about bringing in more young people.”
“Yeah, but it’s unsafe,” said Dharma.
“This town can’t just stop and wait for things to be completely safe,” said her mother, Emily. “We have to pay our mortgages and college tuition bills.”
Dharma looked at her mother in disbelief. “I can’t believe you, my mother, is actually encouraging the rave, and I’m actually against it.”
Nancy strode up beside them as they walked. “I, for one, am more concerned with what’s going on right now. There’s been the first zombie sighting in two years, and nobody seems to know what they’re doing.”
Just then, two army trucks and an armored vehicle lumbered past them on their way to the staging base on the boardwalk.
“See?” said Marco. “The authorities are already here. If the zombies are coming back, we’ll be ready for them this time.”
“Are you all going to the bonfire?” asked Nancy.
They all nodded and answered yes.
“Good. I’m doing half-price rides tonight. Drop by the pier afterwards. It’s been thoroughly sanitized, and the haunted house is closed.”
“I dunno,” said Vinnie. “I don’t much feel like going on rides.”
“Oh, please,” snapped Nancy. “Tonight is about commemorating our survival. A zombie attack and a superstorm couldn’t destroy this town, and do you know why? Because we carried on.”
“I think what Nancy is trying to say is that it’ll be good for the town to see you on the rides having fun,” said Marlene, Vinnie’s mother.
“What about the zombies?” asked Vinnie.
“There’s tons of cops and military here now. If you hear anything funny, just head straight home and away from whatever it is,” said Dharma’s mother, Emily.
“You’re not little kids anymore,” reminded Vinnie’s father, Marco.
“This is rich,” said Dharma. “When we were in high school, they never wanted us to go out. Now that there’s a zombie apocalypse, they’re kicking us out the door.”
“I’m going to be running the Sunglass Hut,” said Emily.
Vinnie did his best not to look deflated. So much for nookie. Dharma read his expression and squeezed his arm.
“And I’ll be at the pizzeria,” said Marco. “We all have to do our part.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Nancy. “I expect to see you two later on tonight. Free ice cream for the both of you.” Nancy walked ahead, wanting to drop by the pier to see if she was needed before heading to the bonfire.
“I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,” said Dharma.
“Or for zombies,” said Vinnie.
“That’s not funny,” rebuked his mother.
Vinnie’s father looked up at the darkening sky. “Why don’t you two go on ahead to the bonfire? We’ll catch up. We have to stop by the pizzeria first.”
“And we have to check on the hut,” said Dharma’s father, Ira.
The parents crossed the street, parting ways from their children, heading towards their respective boardwalk shops. Vinnie and Dharma headed towards the very beginning of the boardwalk, where the bonfire would take place.
Dharma saw that Vinnie was stewing in his own juices. She nudged him with her elbow. “What’s eating you?”
“I don’t appreciate your wording.”
“Oh, c’mon. We’ll still have our little tawdry rendezvous. We just have to wait a little later, when the hut closes.”
“It’s not that,” said Vinnie.
“Oh,” said Dharma, the smile fading from her face. “The zombies.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there haven’t been any more sightings.”
“Since this morning. What makes you think that’s it?”
“You never told me how your session with Tara went,” probed Dharma.
“It went okay. She said it wasn’t really a session.”
Dharma shot him an exasperated look. “What else did she say?”
“That it’s an unsafe world.”
“Go on…”
“That I could get hit by a car or drop dead of an aneurysm today, maybe even at this very moment.”
“Jesus,” gasped Dharma. “So I guess the threat of zombies isn’t so bad.”
“That was her point,” said Vinnie. “If people stopped and really considered all of the dangers out there, no one would leave their house.”
“You know,” said Dharma, leaning in, “it sounds like neither of our parents are going to be home…”
God, she smells good. Vinnie shook his head. “We promised Nancy that we’d go to the pier. We can’t just ditch her and run home to fool around. She’d notice we weren’t there.”
“What if we made a quick cameo at the bonfire, left early to go on some rides, and ran back to my house?” suggested Dharma.
“Don’t forget about the ice cream.”
“Right, and eat some ice cream.”
“What time are your parents closing the hut?”
“Probably ten o’clock.”
“That doesn’t leave us much time.”
“You don’t need more than a few minutes,” teased Dharma.
“Hey, watch it.”
“Either way. If we’re still out before they close the hut, I have spare keys. If we have time, we’ll run home and have a quickie.”
Vinnie thought about it a moment. “You know, this just might work.”
Dharma gr
inned. “What could possibly go wrong?”
* * *
Chief Holbrook sat in his cell contemplating life when the door to the cell area opened and Officer Pacelli escorted a drunk man inside. The man, disheveled and filthy, was dragging his feet and being difficult.
Martinez looked over, and when he saw who it was, he shook his head.
Holbrook recognized the man immediately. “Jesus, Tim, again?”
Timothy O’Leary’s head rolled on his shoulders, and he looked up at Holbrook. “How’s it going, Chief?” He squinted. “Whatcha doin’ in there?”
Holbrook sighed. “Long story, Tim. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it.”
Tim O’Leary was one of the town drunks. The guy had mental problems, but he always refused care. He preferred to work at his father’s restaurant during the day and spend his nights inside a bottle.
He chuckled, amused at the sight of seeing the police chief in a cell. “Looks like you an’ me are gonna be housemates.” He laughed raucously at his own joke as he was shoved into a cell. As Pacelli closed the cell door, Tim planted himself on the cot and stared listlessly at the black ink on his fingertips from being printed.
“You look like hammered shit, O’Leary,” said Holbrook.
“I’m sorry, Chief,” said Pacelli, as he and Martinez traded chuckles.
Holbrook waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Now I can’t complain I’m bored.”
Pacelli tipped his hat to the chief, shot him a smirk, and went back upstairs.
Tim turned and faced Holbrook. “Whatcha in for, Chief?” His smile revealed a few missing teeth. Those that were left were badly stained by coffee and cigarettes.
“You didn’t hear?” answered Holbrook.
“You know I don’t watch the news, Chief. But ol’ Bob Murphy does. At the pub he said you got bit by a little girlie on the pier in the spook house.”
Holbrook and Martinez looked at each other.
“What else did ol’ Bob Murphy say?”
“He said that the girl was one of them zombie things, and that they might be back.”
“Jesus,” said Holbrook to Martinez. “Word gets around fast.”
“Hey, Chief, you’re not going to bite my ass while I’m sleeping, are you?” He again laughed at his own joke. He stuck his arms out in front of him, “Brains! Braaaaaaains!”
“Pipe down,” said Holbrook.
Tim O’Leary chuckled quietly to himself.
The door to the cell area opened again, but this time it was Holbrook’s wife, Lena. He stood up immediately. “Honey, what are you doing here? Where’s Robbie?”
Lena said hello to Martinez, who nodded and said, “Ma’am.”
Holbrook gripped the bars of his cell. He wanted to see her so badly, but he didn’t want her to see him like this.
Lena approached her husband’s cell. “Robbie’s upstairs with Pacelli. Jesus, Jim.” She placed her hand on his, her eyes welling up. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. Are you…all right?”
“I’m okay, but Martinez, here, has to babysit me until Protocol Z is over.”
“Do you feel any different? Strange or sick?”
Holbrook shook his head. “Nope. In fact, I’ve been doing so well, the doc stopped taking my vitals. He said I’m stable, and if I was sick, my vitals would’ve gone south by now. The rest is just precaution.”
“Hello there,” said Tim O’Leary, flashing a lascivious grin at Lena. “Are you the chief’s wife?”
“Pipe down, Tim,” warned Holbrook.
Lena glanced at him, but she ignored the question.
Tim didn’t care that he was being ignored. “Damn, Chief. I had no idea you were married to such a piece of tail.”
This rubbed an old wound dealt by Billy Blake. “Goddammit, O’Leary. I said that’s enough.”
Tim chuckled to himself in his cell, muttering under his breath.
Holbrook shook his head.
Lena slipped her hand through the bars, touching her husband’s chest. “Don’t worry about it. He’s drunk.”
“And crazy,” added Martinez.
Holbrook shook his head in disgust. “There’s so much going on right now. So much that needs to be done. The State Police and the National Guard are here, setting up on the boardwalk. Then, after the town council meeting, I’m sure some folks are skipping town.” He checked his wristwatch. “In fact, meeting’s over already.”
Lena nodded. “There’re cops guiding traffic. It’s not a mass evacuation, but some folks are leaving. You can’t blame them.”
Holbrook averted his gaze. “Maybe you should take Robbie to your parents, until things blow over here.”
“Why, Jim? They said it was an isolated incident.”
Tim O’Leary was now standing, leaning up against the bars of his cell. His right arm swung lazily in front of him. He looked like a drunk ape. “Hey, Mrs. Chief’s wife. Are you coming to visit me, too? I could use a conjugal visit.”
Holbrook wheeled around, pointing a finger at Tim. “I said can it, O’Leary. Last warning.”
Lena frowned. “I want to be here with you. I don’t like you sitting alone here in this cell. Especially with this character, here.”
“I’m fine, Lena. Besides, if the shit hits the fan, I can’t help you in here.”
“I can help you, pretty lady,” jeered Tim. “Why don’t you come over here and gimme a big, wet kiss?”
Martinez jumped in this time. “The chief told you to knock it off!”
“Get out of my face,” said Tim.
“Hey,” said Martinez, stepping closer to the bars, looking Tim dead in the eyes. “Cool it.”
Tim O’Leary exploded into violence, grabbing Officer Martinez through the bars. His raccoon eyes were fierce. “No, you cool it.” He puked up blood all over Officer Martinez as the poor cop squirmed in his grip, turning his head away from the spray.
Lena Holbrook screamed.
“Jesus!” cried Holbrook.
Martinez wriggled out of Tim O’Leary’s grip, tearing his uniform shirt in the process. He backed into the wall opposite the cell and frantically wiped his face with his sleeves and the backs of his hands, whimpering.
Tim O’Leary jumped up and down in his cell, bouncing off of the bars like an agitated chimp at the zoo. He grunted and wheezed, his laughter punctuated with short shrieks.
Holbrook grabbed Lena’s hands through the bars. “Lena, listen to me!”
She gazed in horror at the monster in the cell and the cop covered in gore.
Holbrook pulled her close to the bars. “Lena!”
She looked at him, about to cry. “Not again. Please, not again.”
Holbrook’s eyes were intense with urgency. “Listen to me. Go get Pacelli. Tell him that Tim O’Leary is positive for Protocol Z. Then take Robbie and get out of here.”
“Where will we go?”
“Get Pacelli, then wait for me at home. Now, Lena.”
She nodded and practically tripped over her own feet leaving the cell area.
Holbrook called out to his officer. “Martinez! Martinez, are you all right!”
Martinez was slowly backing away from O’Leary’s cell towards Holbrook. “I think so. Christ, it’s everywhere.”
“Don’t let it touch your eyes or get in your mouth.”
Tim O’Leary now had his penis out and was masturbating all over his cell, tugging away with fervor. “Now there will be three monkeys in a cage! Three little monkeys infected by the dead, one fell down and cracked his head, me an’ Chief’s wife are goin’ to bed, one more monkey to give me head!”
Chapter 7
Vinnie and Dharma descended the wooden ramp to the beach. The fire marshal looked on as two lifeguards were arranging two wooden shipping palettes in the large, rusted metal basin. The area was cordoned off with yellow police tape wrapped around a red garbage pail at each corner. The musician was already tuning his guitar, preparing to belt out some tunes.
When they
hit the sand at the base of the ramp, Dharma kicked off her sandals and carried them in her hands. She loved the feeling of sand between her toes. Vinnie, on the other hand, kept his sneakers on.
They meandered into the crowd of locals.
Vinnie scratched his head. “I’m surprised so many chose to stay for this, given what happened this morning.”
“It was only one sighting,” said Dharma, flashing warm smiles as she passed folks she knew. “Besides, after last summer, I don’t think people can afford to pick up and stay in hotels elsewhere.”
Vinnie hadn’t thought of that. “There’re always relatives.”
“Yeah, but it’s a major disruption of daily life. That would mean shops would have to close during the beginning of the season, the worst possible time. And how long would you have to stay with said relatives? A week? A month? When would it be ‘safe’ to come back?”
Vinnie frowned. “You sound like Tara.”
Dharma’s face lit up, and she pointed ahead of them. “Speaking of Tara, there she is with Tyrell and Lenny.”
Lenny saw Dharma pointing at him. He smiled and waved her over. Dharma and Vinnie waved back. They passed Marie Russo and her kids sitting on a blanket. Marie waved and smiled, but Alessandra leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Dharma. “Hey, Dharma!”
Salvatore, playing it cool, offered his fist to Vinnie to bump. “Wassup?”
Vinnie bumped it. “Nothin’ much, man. Ready to hear some old tunes?”
Salvatore rolled his eyes. “I’d rather be going on rides.”
Dharma broke her embrace with Alessandra, reached out, and ruffled Salvatore’s hair, causing him to blush. “As it ends up, we’re going to Blackbeard’s in a little bit. Nancy wants people on rides. She said it’d be good for people to see us having fun.”
“Sounds like it’ll be good for her pockets,” quipped Marie.
The Creeping Dead: Book 2 Page 11