45
So we got up from behind the bushes, and zig-zagged our way through the neighborhood till we got to Gus’s. Our little rooftop distraction must’ve worked pretty well, ‘cause we didn’t encounter a single zombie on our way there. It was most likely going on 2 a.m., so we figured that Gus and Sue were most likely bedded down and asleep. Since we didn’t feel like breaking in there and making lots of noise (and making their place vulnerable to attack with a weakened entry point), we walked around to the back where their bedroom was at and tossed a bunch of little stones up at their sliding door till Gus came out onto their balcony to see what was up.
“What the fuck!” Gus whisper-yelled down at us, rifle in hand. “You fucking idiots! I almost shot you!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Frank whispered up to him. “You gonna let us in, or are you gonna make us stay out here all night?”
“Eh, go around front… I’ll be down in a minute.”
So Frank and I walked around to the front of Gus’s place - very slowly, as I’m sure we were both thinking about what I had just told him (I know I was) - and waited on the stoop for Gus to open up. He got to the door around ten minutes later - he was almost there right after he left the balcony, but he had sharted on the way down and wanted to clean himself up before he let us in (completely understandable) - and we all went up to their apartment, where Frank and I got cleaned up, and we all went to bed. Gus didn’t wake Sue up to greet us ‘cause he figured he’d just let her sleep and surprise her in the morning. Good thinking.
The next day, I woke up to what sounded like a scuffle in the kitchen. I grabbed my .40 and burst in there, ‘cause I was thinking that somehow a zombie or zombies had got in the house and were currently eating someone, and ended up rounding the corner and putting the barrel right in Sue’s face - the “clamor” I had heard was just her making us all a massive breakfast, as Gus had told her that Frank and I had made it back safely, which made her very, very happy - so happy that I think she planned on making us so fat that we’d never be able to go out again, ‘cause there was a lot of food cooking, let me tell ya.
After Sue gave me a stern talking to that made me feel like a five-year-old that had got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I went into the living room and sat on the couch next to Frank, who had recently woken up himself. We exchanged “good mornings” and the like, reminded each other of what we each said we were going to do, and turned on the t.v. to see if there was anything still broadcasting. Strangely enough, the pay-cable channels like Starz and HBO were still airing. Maybe it was ‘cause they’re all automated with scheduled programs that go on for days. Or maybe there was some movie geek that was locked in Starz h.q. with nothing better to do than keeping the movies rolling. Who knows.
Gus got out of bed a few minutes later, and we all sat at the kitchen table and ate till we were fit to bust, then ate some more. Sue is an excellent cook - one of the best ones I know - and the food was so good you just didn’t want to stop eating.
After breakfast we all congregated to the living room where Frank and I told Gus and Sue about our adventure in the wild: about the van exploding; about how Joey was eating his cats up in his attic with his dead zombie-mom tied up in the corner (that got them laughing real fuckin’ hard, so hard Gus almost puked - which would’ve been a pity, considering that kick-ass fuckin’ breakfast); about how Frank had to kill Joey ‘cause the douche was trying to kill me with a big-ass knife; and about saving Ethel from the bandits and making a new friend - Beth - who Frank had a huge crush on (I really don’t know if he did, I just said that ‘cause it sounded better than the truth - that he just wanted to fuck her).
The rest of the day went pretty well, as did the next two. We hung out, shot the shit, ate, drank, and slept the days away - the usual. It was a good time, although I was getting a little anxious ‘cause I wasn’t sure how or when I was gonna break the news of my imminent departure to the rest of our little group, and I wasn’t sure if Frank was gonna try to beat me to it, either - I was so worked up that a couple times I had to run to the bathroom and puke. I even puked off the front balcony right on top of a zombies head (I didn’t know it was down there, and had to kill it by dropping Sue’s flower pot on its noggin before it got a chance to raise a racket).
I woke up on the fourth day back with the full intentions of telling Gus and Sue of my plans, no matter what - after breakfast, of course. I even ran into Frank in the hall on the way to the shitter and told him I was gonna, ‘cause he had given me an ultimatum the day before - “Do it tomorrow or I’m going to, and I’m going to say you were planning on leaving while we were all asleep, motherfucker, and make you sound real bad… So you better fuckin’ do it!” - were his exact words, with lots of chest-poking to accentuate them. Harsh words, but words that needed to be said. Mainly (and I hate to admit this, ‘cause it might mean that I’m a lot more transparent than I originally thought) because he was right. He didn’t know it (maybe didn’t - like I said, I might be really easy to read), but I actually had pondered the idea of making a midnight run, and even had it all planned out. Well, so much for that shit.
We had all eaten breakfast and were sitting in the living room, gabbing about nonsense, when I decided to break the news. There was a lull in the conversation, and I had just opened my mouth to spit it out, when - before I could even utter a single coherent syllable - Sue cut me off in mid-“uuhhhmmmbbbb”.
“Hey, you two,” she said looking at Frank and I, who were sitting on the couch beside her, to her left. “You know what? We should go and see your friends Ethel and Beth today. I really want to meet them. So does Gus.”
“Yeah,” agreed Gus, “we were talking about it last night. We think we should go over and see how they’re doing, maybe stay there for a couple days, you know. Have a change of scenery. And if Ethel’s anything like you guys described her, I’m sure she’d be glad for the company.”
Just like that, my plans to tell them were crushed. In a fuckin’ vice. Even Frank, who was expecting and waiting for it (he was burning holes through me with his eyes as I sat there next to him) had seemed to have forgotten in his joy (gay word, but all I can think of to describe the stupid look on his face) at the prospect of seeing Beth again. Sure, I could’ve still said it, and then gone on the expedition to Ethel’s, but all their focus would’ve been on the news and not on the journey - something that will get you killed. In this brutal new world we live in now, if you’re not focused on the task at hand, it’ll get you fuckin’ killed - quick. And that’s something I did not want - so I kept my mouth shut.
We left two hours later, armed to the motherfuckin’ teeth, packs loaded up with food and changes of clothes, and the wheel-barrow nearly over-filled with beer. I was in charge of that, as I was the one that pushed for the need for it - it was a vital necessity that I just could not leave behind. When it comes to beer, I’m like a Marine with that shit – “No beer gets left behind!”
46
The first leg of the journey - to 251 - went smooth, with minimal zombies, that were quickly and quietly dispatched using some of the melee weapons we had picked up on our looting of the neighborhood. Sue caved in what looked like a zombie-hooker’s head in with a morning star that I didn’t even know she had, and the rest of the guys took out a couple dead-heads each - Gus with a nice and hefty truckers’ tire-checker, and Frank with his battle-proven machete. Me? I just pushed the wheel-barrow and drank beers when we stopped so they could kill the zombies. That’s some hard fuckin’ work there, though, drinkin’ is. Oh yeah.
It wasn’t until we got to the road that I realized that I may have made a bad decision in bringing all that beer, as there wasn’t any visible paths big enough to roll something as wide as the ‘barrow through. I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it! The biggest reason I had wanted to bring all that beer (aside from my oblivious alcoholism) was because I knew Ethel liked to knock ‘em back, and had wanted to make her happy.
“Dave,” Sue whispered o
ver to me, “you’re going to have to leave that behind. We’ll pick it up on our way back, Okay?”
Aghast at what I had just heard, I stood there for a good minute or two with my mouth hanging wide open - a fuckin’ fly even had enough time to fly around in there. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me!” I nearly yelled. “This isn’t just for us, it’s for Ethel, too! She really likes to drink, right Frank?”
“Yup, I concur,” Frank concurred. “That she does.”
“See? I can’t leave this here! And besides, the beer’ll go bad out here in the sun, and I’m not gonna put it in a hot car, either, ‘cause that’ll ruin it for sure.”
“Well then,” whispered Gus, “what do you plan on doing with it? Going to take it back? We can all go with you, we have all day before it gets dark, and it seems like there aren’t a whole lot of zombies so far.”
I didn’t want to do that either (I’m pretty fuckin’ stubborn like that), ‘cause I saw a handful of zombies tailing us a ways back and didn’t wanna have to tangle with ‘em, and also ‘cause I figured that the first thing Ethel was gonna ask us was if we had any beer, and I didn’t want to disappoint.
“Nah… Check it out, here’s what’s gonna happen. You three go through here,” I said, pointing to a clear path in between the stalled cars, “- but be very fuckin’ careful - and I’ll go down the road a ways and try and find a gap in the traffic big enough for this big ole’ thing to fit through.” (I had thought of making a comment about my penis being too big for some “gaps”, as well, but had decided against it)
“What!?” Sue said, nearly as loud as I had been when she told me to leave it. “Don’t be an idiot, Dave. It’s only beer, and it’s not worth it for you to go on your own.” She saw that I wasn’t gonna budge, ‘cause I had already started to back away from the group. “Okay… at least take Frank with you…”
“Out of the question,” I whispered back. “I’ll be fine, trust me on this. Nothing gets between me and my beer. NOTHING! I’ll be fine. Plus, I don’t want to risk Frank’s life for my stupidity - and yes, I know that this is stupid. Just go to the Culver’s over there, and wait for me, I’ll be there. If it gets too hairy, if too many zombies show up, just go on to Ethel’s and I will be there - eventually. I promise. If I must - absolutely must - I’ll leave the beer behind and come running.”
With that, I turned and hurried down the road, leaving no time for argument. I heard Sue and Gus behind me whisper-yelling for me to get my ass back there - Frank was just laughing - and I acted like I didn’t hear them. About fifty yards down the road, I found a wide enough gap that looked like it went to the median, and started through it. As I entered, I looked down towards the other three and saw that they were already at the median and about to enter the north-bound lanes maze of dead vehicles. I was glad to see they didn’t try coming for me, or weren’t still standing there, pissed off. I saw Sue looking in my direction, glaring, and I stopped my forward progress, cracked a beer and took a good swig. She laughed and flipped me off, and the three of them continued on their way.
When I got to the median, I saw the rest of my group running pell-mell for the Culver’s restaurant, right at a small pack of zombies - five, it looked like - and figured I’d stop and take a break and have a beer or two while I watched them take care of business. I was curious as to how Sue was gonna handle herself with more than one zombie to worry about, and she did not let me down - she took down three of them before Frank or Gus even had a chance to take down one. Very impressive. I stood corrected about my earlier reluctance of having her come out into the wild with us. Right then, I vowed to never second-guess her or anyone else ever again.
After I finished the beer (plus one), I continued to make my way through the vehicles where the others were waiting at Culver’s. I had to stop a couple times on my way through - once to hack up a couple trap-door zombies who had slithered out from under the cars as I was approaching, and once to take a piss on another zombie who had somehow gotten pinned under the front passenger tire of an old Saab - I figured he had been there since the beginning, you know, that he got ran over in the initial confusion and hadn’t been able to get himself out. And now he was stuck and piss-soaked. I chopped his head off before I continued on.
When I cleared 251, I didn’t go to the rendezvous point, ‘cause Frank, Gus, and Sue had ran out to meet me on Midtown, and we all - together again, aaaaaah - kept on down the street at a medium pace (that’s a homage to when Adam Sandler was still funny, bitches). We ran around fifty feet or so when Sue broke from the group and ran to a panel van that was half-on the side walk, and waved us over.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered to her when the rest of us got there. “You okay?”
“No, no,” she whispered back, “everything’s cool. I just… I want to be in the front on the way there…”
“You wanna take point, huh?” Frank whispered. “Cool. If that’s okay with you Gus, that is.”
Gus hesitated for a couple seconds - probably ‘cause he didn’t want his woman to be the first one to face danger, as we saw a good fifteen or so of the walking meat-sacks milling about in the street ahead of us - before he spoke.
“No… I mean, yeah,” he whispered, “go ahead, it’s okay, Sue… you can take point. Just be careful, and if you get overwhelmed or scared or something, one of us will take over for you.”
“Okay, but I think I’ll be all right, Gus. I’m actually enjoying myself, here, and I’m more …exhilarated?… than anything else, you know? I mean I’m scared shitless - yeah, of course, I’m not stupid, only a complete moron wouldn’t be - but I feel really good about this. Excited…”
“Good… Frank, Dave… how far is it to Ethel’s house?”
“Almost all the way down this street,” Frank answered. “The second or third house from the end on the right side.”
“Okay, when we get close, one of you guys take over on point and lead us in, then…”
With that, we all made sure our long-arms were still secured on our backs or sides to where they were out of our way (we all were using our side-arms and melee weapons - except me, of course, who was still pushing the wheel-barrow of pleasures), and Sue got out of her crouch, holstered her side-arm - a nice little Sig 9mil., and walked into the street, with the rest of us right behind her.
She took off at a jog towards the first batch of zombies - two of them, about four feet apart from one another - and brought the spiked ball of her morning star to the head of the zombie on the left in a powerful downward arc, turning its face to shredded meat and splashing it’s blood, brains, and skull fragments to the winds, and then (after she switched her hands to a left-handed grip) swung the star in a crushing upward and backhand blow to the right-side zombies head, nearly causing it to spin completely head-over-heels before it landed hard in a puddle of its own gore. It was the awesomest thing I had ever seen. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sprouting some serious wood right then, ‘cause I most certainly was. A murder boner!
She kept on like that all the way down the street, the rest of us only getting maybe a zombie or two that was somehow spared a brain-smashing - a zombie that was still left broken and useless - before we got close enough to Ethel’s house for Frank to take over. Once we got to Ethel’s yard and onto her porch, I turned to survey Sue’s work (and to make sure the ‘barrow of brews was gonna be okay) - the street as far as I could see was strewn with the battered and broken bodies of the undead, their blood staining the ground around them. It was a beautiful sight.
I turned back to the door and knocked a couple more times (Frank had already knocked a few), and stopped, ‘cause we all heard movement from within - the barricade being moved aside.
The door opened up very, very slowly, and a bloody and crying Beth stepped out.
47
We all must’ve thought she was a zombie, ‘cause the four of us had our side-arms ready to rock at the same exact time. It was actually kinda funny, like in a movie.
“Whoa
… What the fuck are you doing!!!” Beth yelled as she backed into the house. “Fuck!!! I’m not a goddamn zombie!!! Jesus Christ!!! Get in here, hurry!!!”
Since as far as we knew zombies couldn’t talk, we brought our weapons low - but still at the ready, since she may have been infected and about to turn - and followed her inside. I entered last ‘cause I went and had to grab a couple cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon - I had an idea that we were gonna get some bad news about all that blood and figured that Frank, Beth, and I might need it. That all of us might need it.
Once we were all in and she had the door barricaded back up, Beth turned and told us the reason why she was all covered in blood - that was obviously not hers, once we had a chance to look at her - and why the house was in shambles. Ethel’s body lay in a heap at the far end of the couch. It turned out that I was right, more or less.
The day after Frank and I had left, Ethel had decided that she wanted to clear her porch and yard of the dead - she also wanted to get Beth’s family out of sight - and had gone outside to do just that. Beth said that Ethel had gotten her porch taken care of (where she made Beth stay and watch as she did her work, not wanting Beth to have to handle her own family), plus half the front yard, when Ethel suddenly let out a yell and jumped back from one of the corpses.
It turned out that one of the bandits’ corpses wasn’t actually a corpse - it was just playing ‘possum or something, possibly too injured to move, but still lively enough to wait till someone got close. Beth said that the thing didn’t really bite Ethel at all, that its teeth just scraped over Ethel’s right forearm, making a little one-inch long, shallow cut. She said Ethel then stomped the zombies face to pulp, and they both went inside, where Ethel went to the bathroom and poured some alcohol and peroxide over the cut to clean it, and then put some salve and a Band-Aid on it. After that, she said they went about their daily routines like nothing had even happened. She said that while she was worried and knew what could happen to Ethel, Beth wasn’t sure if such a little scratch was enough to make Ethel turn, so she let it go.
Just Another Day Page 17