Undead War (Dead Guns Press)

by Thompson, John

  Taz reached out a hand; to Sarah, it looked like a drowning man's last grab for the surface. She stared at it for a moment, then took it, her hand limp and shaking. His thick, callused fingers closed over hers and she felt something in her wrist bone grind. She pulled back a little and opened her hand. Taz didn't let go.

  “We have to make a pact,” Taz said. His voice was muffled.

  “OK,” Sarah said. “Please let go, you're hurting me.”

  Taz released her hand and Sarah dug in the open glove box. She found an old fast food napkin that wasn't too dirty and handed it to Taz. He blew his nose with a loud honk and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Then he replaced his baseball cap, still looking at the steering wheel.

  Sarah waited. She felt calm. She could wait forever, the lily in the middle of a green pad in a scummy pond.

  “If we don't make it,” Taz said, his voice slow and hoarse.

  “We will,” Sarah said.

  “But if either of us, you know.”

  Sarah nodded. “Shows symptoms of the virus.”

  “Any symptoms,” Taz agreed, “no matter if it seems like nothin'.”

  “A bullet right through the brain stem, no messing around.” The words were hard and final in Sarah's mouth.

  Taz took a deep breath and nodded.

  “OK,” Sarah said. She shut the glove box with a loud click. It stayed closed.

  Taz threw the van into gear and moved onto the soft shoulder. Relieved to be moving again, Sarah stole one last look at the lonely mounds of dirt behind them, all that was left of poor Deedee and her unnamed boy. It was too dark to see, but Sarah knew they were there. She knew that in a few years, the grass would grow back and no one would remember them. She settled into the lull and hum of the van as it began to pick up speed.

  Guiding the General’s Daughter

  Jordan Elizabeth Mierek

  The trees, framing the clearing, stood like tall, naked corpses. Indeed, the clearing held a grave-like appearance, littered with snapped twigs and skeleton leaves.

  Jy’Fune picked up one of the leaves and twirled it. Everything seemed to watch, yet dead and decaying at the same instant. Jy’Fune hugged herself as shivers ran through her bones.

  “Don’t be silly,” she whispered. “Nothing will get you. You’re not alone. You have magic, for the light’s sake!”

  “Do you always talk to yourself?” A’Thone chuckled. She looked over her shoulder at him as he prepared the fire. He’d made a horrible mess of a stick pile. What a horrible time he’s having with a little campfire. I prepared the fires back when we went camping and I did it better than he is. This whole world is twisted. I want to go back home to Bertor. Everything was sane there.

  Bertor, back in New York State, had been swallowed by the rest of the madness from the bombs. They told her she’d been a lucky one. Instead of becoming a zombie, she’d developed powers, like some kind of television mutant.

  Back then, she’d been Jessica.

  She left her spot to crouch beside him and took the sticks from his hand. She set the pile correctly.

  “You’ll need matches,” he muttered. As he fumbled in the leather pouch that hung from his thick belt, Jy’Fune flooded one of the sticks with her magic. Flames engulfed it, spreading to the other sticks within seconds.

  “No, I won’t,” Jy’Fune said. His cheeks reddened and he looked away. She returned to her brooding spot, glad for the fire’s warmth on her chilled back.

  T’Fayna, the scout, moved along the line of trees. She’d brought a bow with her, along with a full quiver of feathered arrows, as she patrolled. The weaponry reminded Jy’Fune of walking through the sporting goods section of her hometown Walmart.

  Despite her shivers, Jy’Fune sent out her magic a mile each way. It came back to her weak, but clear.

  “T’Fayna, you can stop now,” Jy’Fune called. “There’s nothing out there but animals. I…uh…I checked.”

  A’Thone didn’t look up from the campfire, where he roasted the rabbits T’Fayna had shot for supper. As for T’Fayna, she continued scanning the woods, her bow still drawn with a red arrow.

  “I’m not looking for people,” she said. “It’s the animals I’m weary of.”

  Jy’Fune glanced at A’Thone. He grinned at her as if he knew a secret. She crawled close to the fire, her gaze intent on his tanned face. When she’d gone camping with her father, the most they’d seen were a few deer.

  A’Thone leaned over until their noses almost touched. “Where did you grow up?”

  Jy’Fune sat back, wanting to slap him. That’s not a secret, you oaf. “Bertor. Think five hours from New York City.”

  “This is Wilderness. No one comes here. Ever. Unless they’re stupid or insane.”

  Once, it had been Virginia. “Are you calling me stupid and insane?”

  “I’m just saying we’re the only people for miles, but in those miles, there are things you would never imagine. Zombies. They’ll will eat us without a second thought. That’s what T’Fayna is keeping us from.”

  If something eats us, it will be my fault for coming here. She was the one who’d insisted on joining her father. As a general, he’d always plagued her about taking the quickest routes. She was the one who’d made a fuss over taking this path, even after her escorts told her it was a vile idea. Now, he got to be a general in new war.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have thought you’d know that,” he said. “You’re only thirteen. You probably don’t understand.”

  Jy’Fune turned her back on him, but didn’t crawl away. He made her feel safe with the sword and daggers on his belt, the knives he’d bragged about carrying, and the muscles that showed through the thin sleeves of his shirt.

  The trees moaned and swayed, their branches hitting together. Somewhere in the distance, a zombie howled. Seconds later, another zombie replied. T’Fayna drew her bow tauter. The horses whinnied. A third zombie howled. Jy’Fune jumped. When a hand fell over her shoulder, she jerked away and screamed.

  “Stop it,” T’Fayna snapped. A’Thone rested his hand back on Jy’s shoulder.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “They’re too far off. If they came this way and T’Fayna couldn’t get them, I would.”

  “Thanks,” Jy’Fune whispered.

  “Shut up,” T’Fayna hissed.

  They waited in silence until they heard nothing more. T’Fayna joined them at the fire, keeping her bow and arrow close.

  “We leave at dawn,” T’Fayna said when they finished eating and had drunk from the canteens.

  “Why not sooner?” Jy’Fune asked. A zombie might leap out at her, tearing her apart until she was nothing except a pool of blood beneath of pile of bones. The image made her feel nauseas.

  “It isn’t safe to travel in the dark,” T’Fayna said slowly, as if speaking to an infant. Jy’Fune blushed and looked down at her hands. They’d turned red from the fire heat.

  “I’ll sleep over there,” T’Fayna said. “Zombies may go after the horses first. It would be safer if I stayed near them to protect. I’ll take the first watch from here. I’ll wake you when I’m tired.”

  She left them alone at the fire. Again, in the distance, a zombie howled.

  “It must be a full moon,” A’Thone said, as if zombies were just like wolves. T’Fayna tossed him their blankets and he spread them out. “Come sleep. You’re safe here, next to the fire. If anything comes, it’ll get me first.”

  ***

  The sun peaked above the horizon, streaking the sky with thin rays of light. “No time like now to get moving.” T’Fayna shook Jy awake. Everything felt stiff and sleepy as Jy tried to move.

  She moved as if in a daze as A’Thone helped her mount her horse. It tossed its head and whined.

  “What are you thinking?” A’Thone trotted alongside Jy’s horse. She blinked and shook her head to clear her foggy thoughts. When did we leave the clearing? How long have been sitting here like a complete idiot, staring off into s
pace?

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “What did your name used to be?”

  He licked his lips. “Anthony.”

  “Duck,” T’Fayna said.

  Jy looked off to the side, but she didn’t see a duck.

  A branch hit the side of her head. Her ears rang and her skin smarted. She would have fallen if A’Thone hadn’t seized her hips to keep her on the saddle.

  T’Fayna smirked. “I guess I should have gone with saying ‘tree,’ huh?”

  “I’m tired,” Jy muttered. Maybe they’ll settle with that as an excuse, but it’s awful dumb. I shouldn’t be tired. I should be strong, like Father. She yawned despite herself.

  “Get used to it,” T’Fayna said. One hand held her leather reins; the other hand grasped her bow and pinned an arrow against it.

  A’Thone looked back at her. “What were you thinking about? A special friend back home?”

  Jy’Fune blushed. “No…not exactly. I mean I was thinking about home…”

  “Shut up, both of you,” T’Fayna snapped. “I’m listening. You should know better, A’Thone. I’ve a mind to send you back to headquarters.”

  Lonely headquarters, brick schools transformed into barracks.

  Her legs were chilled. Since she sat astride, her dress pulled up. The air was cold and damp. At least she had magic. At least she hadn’t become a zombie like her mother.

  She tucked her cape closer around her, enjoying the sounds of the woods and the horses. No one spoke again; however, T’Fayna glanced back to make sure Jy’Fune still came since she brought up the rear.

  Someday, she would be Jessica again.

  The Neighborhood Bar and Grill

  Kenneth James Crist

  I remember it was hot as hell and the air conditioning was on the fritz, just like it used to be all the time when Frap still owned the bar. Later on, after they finally killed him and Sully took it over, he got the AC fixed and it stayed fixed.

  But that night in August 2008, we had the door to the parking lot propped open, which was technically against the law, just like stepping out into the parking lot with a beer or a drink was technically against the law, but most of the time the cops didn’t mind, as long as you had enough respect to step back in whenever you saw them comin’ around.

  I can remember what I wore that night, too. I had on a pretty short skirt and no pantyhose. I wore an old pair of flats and a white cotton blouse. No bra, because it was so damned hot and I’m pretty firm anyway, and not that big. I’d tied the blouse around my middle just under my boobs. I had a scarf tied around my hair to keep it up off my neck, because I’d been too lazy to do anything with it and besides, I’d been told I had a pretty neck. Been told that a number of times, as a matter of fact, usually when some hot guy was kissing on it…And I wasn’t seeing anyone right then and no real prospects on the horizon, so what the hell…

  Yeah, I suppose I looked sloppy, but I didn’t feel sloppy—I felt comfortable.

  Of course, we’d all heard about dead people crawling out of the ground and rising from slabs in morgues, but we all had that bravado, or for the guys that machismo, that allowed us to sit around in bars and bullshit about what we’d do if we ever encountered one.

  I remember Sully had been sitting at the table next to mine and I had my back to the door, something I never do anymore. There was a ceiling fan right above me and it was moving the hot, stale, smoky air listlessly around.

  Jilly was at the bar, at the end nearest the door, and Pocks and Doobie were on the next two stools to her right, trying to chat her up and maybe set up something for later. I had news for both those guys—she was way out of their league. She had a thing going with some Puerto Rican coke dealer who would pop a cap in their asses if he even saw scum like them talking to her.

  She was a cute little trick, I guess, with her plastic-surgery store-bought boobs and collagen lips, tight little ass and big glasses. Somehow the glasses made her cuter and kinda vulnerable-looking.

  Then there was Kong and his table full of monsters, off in the far back corner. They were bikers. Sons of Silence or El Diablos or some shit. They only came here when their own bar, Jax by the Trax, was closed. They’d had a fire at Jax two days before. Rumor was that one of these guys had probably started it. They wore all their leather shit, even when it was hot as hell and they also wore enough body funk to keep me at bay, even if I did like motorcycles. I like my guys a little cleaner than any of that bunch on their best day…

  When the dead lady shuffled in the door, I don’t think anyone really noticed right away. We were all pretty much in the bag by that time and paying more attention to the music and each other. Some more girls had showed up and some of the bikers were actually dancing with them—looked like somebody was gonna get laid later on.

  I smelled her before I saw her and by the time that nauseating odor, wafted around by the ceiling fan, finally reached my nostrils, Sully was already staring past me and starting to move.

  I remember how weird it was that it seemed to be suddenly raining inside the bar. Not heavy rain, just a slight pitter-patter like you sometimes get before it really cuts loose. And this is what I sometimes have nightmares about—the rain pattering down around me and on me and seeing the raindrops squirm and crawl. The raindrops were maggots, you see, falling out of her hair and ears and mouth…she was that close…and she had her mouth wide open, ready for that first bite, right on my neck (that pretty neck the guys liked to kiss) when Sully pulled his little .38 belly gun and stepped up and shot her square between the eyes.

  I shrieked. I couldn’t help it. I was so freaked out, as much by things squirming around on me, and at least one was down my collar and a couple more in my hair and, right there in front of everybody, I ripped off my blouse and I was screaming, “Get ‘em off me! Oh, God, get ‘em off!”

  Meanwhile, Frap was cussing and mopping everything in sight with a bar towel and a bottle of bleach, ruining his jeans and everything, chasing maggots and wiping up brains. A big glob of brains and hair had flown through the air and landed in Jilly’s drink and she was screaming right along with me, though she still had all her clothes on.

  Sully grabbed another bar towel that was already soaked with beer and melted ice and started wiping me down, knocking squirming nastiness off me and checking my hair. He was a cool sucker and that helped a lot, but I still was freaking out. He took off his own shirt and quickly wrapped me in it, even though everyone had pretty much seen all there was to see. Besides this incident, I’d been in a wet t-shirt contest or two in my time…Then he hustled me out the door and straight to his car, an old Buick Regal he’d been driving like forever.

  We went blasting out of the lot more or less sideways and we could see cops coming. Evidently somebody’d called 911, which is what you used to do whenever there was a shooting at a bar. Nowadays, if ya shoot a zombie, they’re not that picky…

  I couldn’t get rid of the shudders and my feet were so cold. And soon I began catching whiffs of that stench of rotting flesh and realizing it was on me.

  We’d gone maybe nine blocks when I grabbed Sully’s arm and motioned him to pull over. I was gagging and he quickly got the idea. As he screeched to the curb, I flung open the door and puked up most everything I’d had to drink and eat for about the last five hours.

  Then the dry heaves began along with the gasping, trying to catch my breath and more heaving. At no time in one’s life are they more vulnerable than when they are hopelessly sick and puking their guts up.

  Sully held me and kept wiping me off with yet another bar towel he’d grabbed on the way out, and at last I rested my head on his shoulder and just bawled.

  After a while, when I got it down to just a hitching sob now and again, he cranked up the car and kicked it in the ass and again headed toward my place. All I wanted now was a shower as hot as I could stand it and to wash my hair.

  I was not surprised when Sully took me to the door and took my keys from my shaking hand and unlocked
my door and saw me safely inside. I knew he was a gentleman, in spite of the things I’d heard about him.

  Without saying goodnight or thanking him or anything, I made a beeline for the bathroom. Hot water and clouds of steam and lots of soap had never felt so good. Twenty minutes later, I was in my bathrobe with the blow dryer running full blast, drying my hair. I opened the bathroom door to let out some of the heat and Sully stood there holding a Bloody Mary, complete with celery stalk for me and another he’d already started on. I swear nothing ever tasted so good. And it had just enough booze in it to chase away the chills and miseries and take the edge off my shudders.

  I finished my hair and we sat on the sofa and once again I rested my head on Sully’s shoulder. I’d never paid a lot of attention to Sully. He was big and barrel-chested and they say he’s mob-connected. I knew he carried a gun all the time and on that night he proved he wasn’t a bit reluctant to use it.

  When he turned me and kissed me, holding me just the way I like to be held, I didn’t even put up a token resistance. I wanted this as much as he did. I twisted further around, making it easier for him to reach whatever he wanted and soon his hand slipped inside my robe. My nipple was hard against his palm as he cupped me and kissed me and stroked my hair. When his hand moved to my inner thigh and then up, I merely opened my legs and let him do what he wanted.

  Another two minutes of his skilled attentions and we were headed for the bedroom. I turned down my bed and dropped my robe while Sully was getting undressed and when he came to me I was more than ready. Everything we did that night, and it involved very little sleep, was an affirmation of life and a denial of death’s reach.

  Sully was and still is a wonderful lover…we were married just this spring…and it’s nice to have him near when those nightmares come around again…we still go down to the Neighborhood Bar and Grill, but we damn sure keep the door shut nowadays and the bouncer carries a shotgun…

  A New Species of Undead

  John X. Grey