by Bryan Mosier
“Well that’s easy, we’d be celebrating the..” begins Alex and then realization strikes.
“Now you’re starting to understand.”
“I don’t get it” says Brandon with a confused look on his face.
“What is one of the staple traditions of the fourth of July forthis neighborhood?”
“Mr. Jenkins running down the street with his wangin the wind?” asks Justin
“Not that one, the other one.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Aiken having yet another inappropriate, if not humorous pun of adisplay of affection on the hood of their“69” Mustang and posting in on the internet?”
“NO! Not that one either. Mr. Owens every year sets off his big, Fourth of July fireworks show. You, know the one that is full of the really good illegal stuff that usually ends up with the fire department showing up and an ambulance to take Mr. Owens to the hospital?”
“How many fingers did he have left?” asks Alex.
“Oh yeah, that. OH!! Now I get what you’re saying.”
“Yeah, he’s had to have already gone to get them because his Social Security check would have just come in and he wouldn’t be getting any more money until he sells his food stamps to Mr. Potter down at the tobacco shack.”
“So you’re sayinthat just on the other side of this fence, in that garage is sitting enough explosives to make Kim Jong Un get a wee little North Korean boner?”
“Yep, and all we gotta do is get it, light that shit up and be on our way cuz once the show starts every stinkinzombie for five miles will be drawn to it like a mosquito to a bug zapper.”
“Okay, Justin, get on your hands and knees.”
“What for?” asks Justin, a cautious look of distrust on his face born from years of practical jokes coming at the expense of his dignity.
“Dude, I need to see over the fence to see if the coast is clear. Let me stand on your back so I can get a good look.”
Complying, Justin gets down on his hands and knees and Bryan steps up onto his back and slowly peeks over the fence.
“Shit! We got walkers.”
“Fuck, how many?”
“Looks like only two….wait a minute….it think….yeah, it’s the Claxon twins.”
“Neil and Robert. I hate those two. They think they’re so freaking smart always bragging about how good their grades are. Everybody knows it just because their mom is playing principal O’Shay’smeat flute” declares Bryan.
“I thought it was his trombone” adds Justin
“No I’m pretty sure it was his harry clarinet.”
“No, no, it was definitely his stump trumpet.’
“Nope I’m thinking it was definitely a“wood” wind instrument.”
“Really guys. Is this really the time to get into this….besides it was his sux-a-bone” snickers Alex.
What type of band do you think theyplay in?” asks Brandon with a giggle.
With likeminded juvenile glee the threesome offer in unison“A jizzensemble.”
As their muffled laughter subsides they begin to develop their plan.
With a mighty heave, Justin manages to get Bryan off the ground just enough for him to get his upper body to the top of the wooden fence. Hanging precariously, Bryan tries to wiggle his way on over the fence while remaining as stealthy as possible. With an added jolt from below and a few not so subtle jabs regarding Bryan’s poor dietary habits, Justin manages to provide enough force to allow Bryan’s mass to shift forward with enough momentum allowing gravity to complete the task. With a quiet thud, Bryan unceremoniously lands in the bushes lining the other side of the fence.
“Ouch!’
“Quiet, what’s wrong?”
“Forgot about the rose bushes.”
‘So?”
“Roses have thorns.”
“Well, you know what they say?”
“What’s that?”
‘When you play the game of thorns, you either win, or you die.”
“Ha ha, I would’ve appreciated that more if it weren’t for the freaking ass load of needles stabbing me, not so ironically, in my ass!”
‘You guys quiet down over there,” says Alex in a whispered yell. Watching the slapstick farce from aloft, Alex has made his way up to the tree house. Regretting now his lack of maintenance on the ramshackle structure, every little movement is answered with an unsettling creeking of the boards and gentle swaying of the entire tree.
“What do you see from the aerie” asks Justin.
“Okay, so the twins are both over by the corner of the house, maybe twenty feet from the garage door.”
“What are they doing?”
“They’re freaking zombies, what do you think they’re doing? They’re wandering around with a stupid blank look on their face like they just woke up from awet dream.”
“So kindalike you when girls are around?”
“To be fair, he is kind oflike that all the time” adds Justin.
“So can they see me?” asks Bryan.
“I don’t think so, they’re looking the other way. If you’re really quiet I think you can make it to the side of the garage without them seeing you.”
Slowly Bryan gets to his feet and starts to make his way throughthe yard. Walking very slowly, conscious of every step he avoids one obstacle after another. A discarded yard rake here, a broken beer bottle there. With each passing moment his confidence builds until suddenly,“WOoooAh! With an earth quaking thud Bryan suddenly finds himself staring at the mid-morning sky. Stunned and momentarily disoriented Bryan lies on the ground unmoving until he hears a whispered “Dude, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I think so, I just slipped on something.”
‘What was it?”
“I don’t know but it…it feels like the ground is all wet.”
Feeling something poking him in the back, Bryan fumbles around until he manages to grab the object of his discomfort. Pulling it from underneath him, Bryan manages to muffle a gasp of complete and utter terror with his other hand when he realizes that the object in his grip is the gnarled, mangled remains of a human hand.
“OhShitOhShitOhShit.”
“Dude be quiet they’re gonnahear you.”
“OhShitOhShitOhFuckOhSHit.”
“Dude what is it?”
Recognizing the faint remnants of the letters spelling the word ATE, the H having been blown off three summers ago, Bryan, not missing the prophetic irony of his late neighbors tragic fate scrawled across the gnarled, boney fingers in front of him, he stares in horror at the mangled remains and says “I…I think it’s Mr. Owens.”
“What?”
“I think I’m lying in what’s left of Mr. Owens.”
“EEEWW!” moans Brandon. “You got Mr. Owens juice all over you.”
“C’mon guys, be quiet…they’re gonnahear…oh shit!”
“Whatdayamean oh shit?” asks Bryan. “Oh shit is definitely not what I want to hear right now.”
“Um, uh..they’regone.”
“Whatdayamean they’re gone?
“The twins…the twins aregone.”
“Where the hell are they?”
“I don’t know. They’re not there anymore.”
“ShitShitShitSHIT!”
“Dude, just lay still and be quiet.”
Watching from his perch in the tree house, Alex tries to scan the scene to reacquire sight of the Claxon twins. Momentarily forgetting where he is, Alex leans a little too far over the edge of the rickety tree house’s makeshift railing and with a loud thunderclap he suddenly feels a sense of complete weightlessness immediately followed by a panicked sensation of rapid descent. Eyes glued shut with the expectation of impending pain Alex feels a sudden jar followed by an unmistakable change in direction as the falling sensation is replaced with one of upward flight. Having hit the trampoline, Alex is propelled up and over the fence landing face down a few feet away from the still immobile Bryan.
“Unnngh! Waht hoppent?” asks Alex in a voice muffled
from both pain and being face down in the soup that was Mr. Owens.
“AAargh!”
“What did you say?” asks Alex.
“I didn’t say anything”, says Bryan.
“Urngh!”
“What did yo…” finally lifting his head to take in his surroundings Alex realizes in shocked terror that the twins have meandered their way over two where he and Bryan find themselves sprawled on the blood soaked ground. Standing over them, the vision is one straight out of one of their beloved comic books. Neil and Robert Claxon present an image of walking death. Clearly visible bite marks on their face and neck reveal the horrific manner in which they came to their current state. Their once perfectly coiffed blond hair now a mangled mess of blood and soil hangs in their milky blue-white eyes that show nothing of the self-righteous arrogance they once had. Blood and drool dripping from their gaping mouths they stand over Alex and Bryan ready to gorge themselves on the buffetof flesh presented. Frozen in fear, Alex and Bryan sit and await their fate when suddenly they hear,“Hey meat suckers…over here!” Looking towards the fence they see Brandon in full zombie survival gear standing in front of a hole made in the fence from a board that he has pried loose.
“You brain dead pieces of crotch rot don’t scare me! Why don’t you come on over here and take me on ya…ya…ya PUSSIES!”
Whether responding to the noise or on some basic primal instinct to get justice for the verbal insults being lobbed at them, the Claxon twins both look towards Brandon. With their eyes frozen on the twins, Alex and Bryan are surprised when theirwould be assailants turn and start towards Brandon. As they begin to amble forward suddenly Robert’s head lurches backwards as if struck by some invisible object, the only evidence of its trajectory being the splatter of blood and gore exiting from the back of his skull. Expecting the report of gunfire but never hearing it they trace the unseen object’s path back to the source. To their amazement, Alex and Bryan see Brandon standing with one arm outstretched as if pointing to his intended target with a slingshot firmly in his grasp, its rubber strap already pulled back to his ear with his other hand prepared to release a shiny metallic ball bearing on his next victim.
“Eat cold steel you zombie scum” yells Brandon as he releases the projectile. In the blink of an eye the tiny projectiletravels the distance of Mr. Owen’s yard striking with deadly accuracy in the center of zombie Neil’s forehead. Dropping to the ground with a sickening thud, Neil lands next to his now twice dead brother and lies motionless.
“Holy shit, what the fuck?”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“It’s easy, you just point, pull and shoot.’
“But, when did you learn to shoot like that?”
“You know when you guys were playing Call of Duty online and I wanted to play the XBOX but you told me to go outside?”
“Yeah?”
“I went outside.”
“Oh.” Smacking the youngster on the back of the head Alex adds,“Watch your language”.
“C’mon, let’sget the stuff and get outta here.”
Chapter 6
Lifting the garage door, the boys are presented with a sight both awesome in its potential for beauty and destruction. Stacked from floor to ceiling are cartons and totes each crammed full of every imaginable type of fireworks. Scores of roman candles, bottle rockets, mortar shells and a myriad of other colorfully packaged incendiaries fill every available inch of space.
“Okay, grab as much as you can and let’s go” commands Alex.
With arms filled with their explosive bounty of their looting expedition the boys make their way back to the relative safety of their own backyard.
“So, how are we gonnado this?” asks Bryan.
“Well, I think we just pile all this up and set it on fire and when the shit starts a flying the zombies should start making their way around to this side of the house. As soon as the coast is clear, we head out the front door and make a b-line for the Henderson’s place across the street.”
“Sounds good to me” confirms Bryan and with a nod of agreement from Brandon and Justin, Alex gives the command“Let’s do this!”
Piling the fireworks into a pile and then covering them with scraps of paper and wood from the broken tree house, Alex asks“Okay, once we light this there’s no going back. Its gonna make such a commotion that this place is gonna be overrun with dead heads. Are you guys sure ya wannado this?”
With a momentary look of doubt coming over his face, Bryan remembers the soft voice coming over the CB radio and the angelic image in the yearbook. “Do it” he says.
As Alex drags the red and white match tip across the striking strip of the crinkled paper booklet it sparks and comes to life, the flame dancing at the tip of the little wooden match stick. With a gentle toss Alex drops the lit match onto the pile and watches as the paper is the first to take light. As the fire begins to grow, the boys start to turn and make their way back to the house when suddenly...KPOW! One of the mortar shells explodes into the air and, reaching its apex explodes into a shower of red and orange sparks.
“Holy Shit! What the fuck?””
“I thought it would take longer than that!”
KBLAM! Another explosion and another shower of sparks.
BANG! KPOW! BLAM! A rapid series of explosions suddenly sends flaming debris all over the back yard and into the air.
“Shit, they’re all going off at once.”
BLAM! BANG! POP! KPOW! More explosions reverberate off the wooden privacy fence and more debris is propelled high into the air, some of which coming to a rest aloft in the rickety tree house.
“Um, I think we might haveover done it a bit” says Bryan, an uncharacteristic tone of caution in his voice.
Rushing into the house the foursome make their way to the front living room and pause to carefully peek out the front window.
“It’sworking, they’re movingtowards the back of the house” says Alex, with a sense of relief in his voice.
“Give it a few minutes and it should be clear.”
“Hey, guys, do you smell that?” asks Justin.
“What?”
“Like something burning.”
“It’sprobably just the fireworks.”
“No, it smells different, like wood burning.”
“Yeah, it does smell different. Kind of like when mom and dad forced us to go on that camping trip and we all got poison ivy.”
“I think I willgo check it out” says Justin as he heads for the back door. Upon arriving he sees that the entire tree house and surrounding area has quickly become engulfed in a raging inferno of flame and smoke. Looking at the wooden fence Justin sees it is now a wall of pulsating flame. As he takes in the scene, the fence starts to move, twisting and bending in the smoke and heat. Suddenly the wall gives way as dozens of zombies, themselves now aflame, force their way through into the back yard.
“Dudes, we need to get goingRIGHT NOW!” yells Justin.
As Justin comes running into the living room Bryan asks“What’s wrong?”
In exasperated terror the only words he can manage are“Flaming…zombies…coming…this…way!”
“We’re being attacked by gay zombies” asks Brandon, confused.
“Zombies can’t be gay” interjects Bryan
“Why not? If they were gay when they were alive then wouldn’t they be gay when they’re the walking undead?” asks Alex
“They work on a basic primal need and that is to get food.” offers Bryan, trying to cement his argument with what at least sounds like a smattering of scientific fact.
“Sex is a primal instinct, is it not” offers Justin, allowing himself to become fully engrossed in the intellectual debate and momentarily forgetting the urgency of the situation.
“Okay, let’s just say you’re right and zombies can be gay. How would we know that they were in fact gay zombies.”
“Well that’s obvious” declares Bryan,“the gay ones are gonna try to bite yo
ur dick off, first thing.”
“Really?” asks Alex, the disbelief in his voice ever so evident.
“Yep. Straight for the wang, every time” confirms Bryan with a look of proud confidence in the logic of his argument.
“And lesbian zombies?” asks Justin, wanting to continue the discussion less out of a desire for intellectual discussion and more just to hear what ridiculous response Bryan will offer next.
“Lesbians? Are you listening? If the gay man zombies are going for the wang straight up, then the lesbionic undeadonly got one thing on their rotten little brains…!”
“And that is”
“…Kooch!” declares Bryan with confidence.
“Kooch?” asks Alex, trying to hold back a chuckle.
With the same cocksuredness as before Bryan looks him in the eye and with a straight face born of absolute surety declares once more “Kooch!”
“Kooch” says Alex, looking to Justin who in turn offers his own dead pan declaration of “Kooch.”
“Yep, Kooch. That’s all they think about. Kooch…all…day…long. Koochin the morning…how about a little kooch for breakfast. Koochin the afternoon...what’s that you say, you’re not that hungry, here, have a little…kooch. Supper time? What do I feel like having? Oh! I know how about a big‘olheaping pile of…kooch.”
“So let me get this straight, right Mrs. O’harafrom down the street…
“The chick with the spiked mullet, hairy legs and the quote unquote roommate?” interrupts Bryan as he asks for clarification.
“Yeah, that’s her. You telling me that right now if she’s one of them undead freaks out there that she’s stumbling around out there and all she is thinking about is...” starts Alex but Bryan offers the answer before he can finish his question.
“Kooch! She be like ...uuuunngh…..aaaarggh….uuuuungh….kooooooooch” says Bryan, miming the stumbling of an undead middle aged lesbian.
“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that kind of logic” says Alex, laughing as the mock debate comes to a close. “How did we even get on this topic anyway?” he asks in between chuckles.
“Oh crap!” yells Justin,“I forgot!