Donna of the Not Undead (...of the Not Undead Book 1)

by Bryan Mosier

  “Obviously this is one of the zombies…” starts Alex.

  “Stumble bums” corrects Melody.

  “Um, yeah, this is one of the…stumble bums…that we ran over when we leftthe All-Mart.”

  “Yeah and the dead fuck must’ve took out the damn radiator or something” declares Suzie-Steve.

  “Well, we need to check it out, but um what do we do about the…”

  Before anyone could blink a flash of light catches shimmering steel and the stumble bum’s head immediately separates into two halves with the division taking place perfectly between the base of the nose and the upper lip. The mangled corpse now limp the group starts the messy job of pulling the rotted, half steam cooked body from the grill of the truck.

  “Oh, this is really gross” complains Bryan

  “Kindasmells like cooked chicken” concedes Larry.

  “Oh you sick fuck. That’s a half rotted dead person and all you can think about is your fat ass stomach.”

  “C’mon guys, let’sjust get this done” begs Carla.

  Having removed the last fragments of the corpse from the grill, Suzie-Steve instructs Larry to pop the hood and upon doing so the group finds that their problems are much more severe than they thought. Looking under the hood they find the missing lower portion of the zombie, a mangle of flesh and bonejammed into every nook and cranny of the vehicles engine compartment. Most seriously though the radiator has been pierced my several large bones, presumably those of the corpse’s legs. The fan that usually helps cool the engine is shattered with its blades completely missing and tangled among the various pulleys and tubes is the main drive belt that runs the various systems of the truck, including the cooling and hydraulic system.

  Knowing the answer before he asks the question, Alex looks at Suzie-Steve and asks,“Can we fix it?”

  “I don’t see how we can fix that kind of fuck up. I mean that is some serious, pro level fuck up right there. Fat ass Larry couldn’t fuck it up like that and he’s the world’s biggest fucker upper there is.”

  “Shit!” exclaims Bryan, immediately turning to the girls and apologizing for the slip up.

  “So what do we do now?”

  Being unfamiliar with the local geography,“Where are we anyways?” asks Carla.

  Looking around the boys suddenly realize where they are at.

  “Hey, we ain’t that far from school.”

  “Hey, we ain’t are we? Can’t be more than a mile or so.”

  “Dude, the bus garage is right next door. Maybe we can find something there to drive.”

  “That’s a great idea.” declares Alex, and with nods of agreement and no other viable options the decision is unanimous.

  “But what about all the stuff in the truck. We just gonna leave it?” asks Brandon.

  “Grab whatever you can carry safely. We’ll come back for the rest.”

  Once everyone has their gear and provisions packed and the truck secured so that no would be thieves or stray zombies could get their stuff, the group heads off down the road.

  “You guys keep an eye out for any dead heads. We don’t know what could be going around here.”

  Chapter 19

  Coming around the last curve in the long approach to the high school, the scene is pretty much as expected. Having been used as some kind of shelter when the chaos of the zombie apocalypse started the scene is one of complete chaos and disarray.

  “Man, this place looks like it was hit by a hurricane” says Brandon

  “Yeah. Sure looks rough.”

  West High School, modest in size but big enough to accommodate the eight-hundred or so students that used to fill its halls every day, is one of two high schools in the district. East High School, its virtual twin, sits nestled on a hill across the county in Grayson Township and was generally considered the favored school of the county’s board of education. A long, narrow two story building with a modest sized gymnasium at one end, the two story faced of the building is lined with two matching rows of dusty windows, some broken but all still sporting their drab beige window blinds, each pulled down to a different level, partially covering the windows in what can only be some super sophisticated visual code devised by students that most definitely makes a derogatory statement about the sexual proclivities of the principal and/or superintendent.

  “Actually it looks pretty good given the circumstances. Most of the windows are still intactand the front doors are still hanging on all their hinges. Compared to most places this is pretty good.”

  “Yeah, when the shit went down the National Guard first tried to get people to gather up at the schools so they could get them outta here” says Suzie-Steve. “On account of all the school buses. They was loadin people up by the bus-load, crammin ever last person they could get into’em and haulintheir asses outta here.”

  “Maybe that’s what happened to mom and dad” says Brandon, looking to Alex for a hopeful nod of agreement.

  “I’m sure that’s it” says Alex, trying to sound more confident than he actually felt.

  “Yeah, don’t you worry none” adds Suzie-Steve. “Your momma an poppa are just fine. You’ll see’emagain soon.”

  “So what do we do now? If the guard took all the buses?” asks Darla, letting the question just hang there in silence.

  “We need to go look in the bus garage, see if they might have missed anything” says Suzie-Steve.“It’sgetting late so why don’t you guys go on in the school and see if you can find a secure place in case we gottastay the night.” Motioning for Larry to follow, Suzie-Steve leads him across the narrow street running in front of the school towards the large metal building used to maintain the districts fleet of aging school buses.

  “Sounds like a plan says Brandon,“Let’sdo this.”

  “Hold on now killer” commands Alex. “We’re gonna do this right. Room by room, making sure the area is clear, okay.”

  “Okay” says Brandon as he rips open the front door and immediately does a forward roll like something you would see out of one of those bad 80’s ninja movies. Coming up in a crouched position he says with authority“Lobby…..clear” and with that gives a series of military like hand gestures, presumably instructing the others to follow.

  “Good grief” says Bryan as he presses the palm of his hand to his face.

  Walking into the main lobby, the chaos of the last few days is clearly evident. The cheap vinyl covered metal chairs for visitors that used to line the walls in perfect, orderly rows were now scattered and overturned. The fake plants that used to sit by the main office’s entrance as an attempt to make the school feel a little less like a prison was now overturned with the fake foliage in tatters after having been trampled underfoot.

  “Let’s check out the office.” says Alex.

  Looking at Melody, Brandon performs another series of seemingly random hand gestures, each with similarmilitary precision. Upon completion, Melody gives a slight nod and starts creeping towards the doorway, stopping just to the left of the entrance, placing her back against the large glass window that forms the outer wall of the school’s main office.

  Brandon, following suit, takes up the same position opposite Melody on the other side of the doorway.

  “What are they doing?” whispers Bryan.

  “I think they might be preparing to breach?” suggests Justin.

  “They do know we can see in the office. The wall is a big freakin window for cryinout loud.” adds Bryan.

  “C’mon guys, let’sjust go.” Casually walking past Brandon and Melody, the group enters the office but not without first getting a look of disgust from the two youngest members of the group, obviously frustrated with their siblings lack of proper room clearing protocol.

  Stopping at the front counter the groups gives the room a quick survey. Scanning the familiar room with its faded brown carpet, the must odor from years of tireless teenage trudging to and fro still lingering in the stale air, the width of the room is divided in half by a large cou
nter, its cheap particle board frame spanning the room. The only break in its chipped and fractured faux granite counter at its center where a short, swinging door allows access for anyone wanting to go beyond the borderline into no man’s land that the counter imposes. Beyond the counter sits a solitary desk. The once orderly desk that Mrs. Vicki, the grouchy old secretary that used to bark at any student who dared lean on the counter, was now scattered with loose papers. Beyond the desk is a long narrow hallway, now dark and ominous without any of the harsh, fluorescent lights to illuminate it. Lining each side of the hallway are several doors, each leading to what was once a principal or counselor’s office.

  “So what d’ya think guys?” asks Bryan, a touch of insecurity creeping into his voice.

  “We gottacheck it out” declares Alex, trying to hide his own misgivings about the notion of venturing into the unknown recesses of the darkenedhallway. Taking a deep breath to steel his confidence he adds,“Okay then, let’sgo.”

  After a moment of awkward silence with no one making any indication of moving forward it’s Darla who speaks up.

  “Um, guys, what’s the matter?”

  “It’s just…”starts Bryan, but stops, unable to get passed the idea of putting the embarrassing notion into words.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, y’know, it’s like…we never really…”

  “What? You never what?”

  It’s Justin who finally blurts out what the others were too embarrassed to say. “It all comes down to the fact that this isthe principal’s office! None of us have ever actuallybeen to the principal’s office.”

  “So?” asks Carla, a look of total confusion now on her face.

  “You don’t understand. Only the bad kids ever go to the principal’s office. We never did anything to get sent there. It’s like purgatory or something.”

  “Are you saying that you’re afraid to go to the principal’s office?”

  “Well, afraid is such a harsh word? starts Bryan.

  “I like to think that we were very conscientious pupils and…yeah we don’t wannago there.”

  Placing a freckled palm to her face, it’s now Darla that provides her best Charlie Brown impersonation.

  “Good grief.” Giving the boys a collective look of exasperation, Darla motions to her sisters,“C’mon girls, let’sdo this.”

  Inching slowly down the narrow hallway, Darla, with her sisters in tow cautiously steps into the narrow passage followed closely behind by Carla then Melody. Helga, they all agreed, was best suited as a look out and stayed behind with the boys. Coming first to a small office on the right it’s clearly evident that no evil was lurking in the shadows as the room was barely large enough to fit a person in to begin with. Crammed full of file boxes and a solitary desk that apparently to sit at you would have to perform a not at all unimpressive feat of agility to get to the ragged chair behind it with its foam cushioning poking through a plethora of patches of tacky silver duct tape. Moving on the next office, though a touch larger is pretty much the same as was the records room that was stacked from floor to ceiling with white photocopy paper boxes, each labeled with delicate hand scrawled numbers that apparently referenced the various calendar school years that the contents must contain. Coming to the end of the hall the girls reach the source of the boy’s apprehension. Looking at the dark metal painted door, a small brass plaque, scratched and faded reads the one word that strikes fear into the heart of any conscientious, academically inclined, straight laced do gooder high school student. Principal. And under that a thin strip of yellowed masking tape with the name Mr. Steele hand written in permanent marker.

  Reaching down to grab the door knob, Darla slowly gives the handle a turn. Finding the door unlocked she gives a cautious look to the other girls, who, taking their cue, prepare themselves for whatever unknown menace that might be lurking behind the door.

  “Um guys, do you all feel kindalike, I don’t know, the biggestdouches in the world right now?” asks Alex.

  “Why?”

  “I mean we let the girls go down there and who knows what they’ll find. I mean shouldn’t we, y’know,as MEN be the ones doing that kind of stuff.”

  “Hey, it’s the twenty-first century. Women’s lib dude.”

  Giving Bryan a shameful look, Alex starts towards the entrance to the hallway leading to the principal’soffice. In reality the distance isn’t more than fifteen or twenty feet but as he enters the darkened passageway the hallways seems to stretch into a long corridor. The simple wall papered hallway becomes more like a tunnel, one that can only lead to despair and pain. Overwhelmed with fear, not of the potential for zombies but rather from a deeply ingrained fear of being sent here for disciplinary action, Alex freezes. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Alex is jolted out of his anxiety addled delusion, letting out a slight yelp. Looking over his shoulder, half expecting to find Mr. Steele himself transformed into a stumbling, decayed flesh eater, Alex sees his little brother.

  “C’mon bro, we got this” says Brandon.

  Feeling a little jealous of his little brother’s confidence and ashamed at his own lack thereof, Alex steels himself and continues down the hallway.

  “Hold up” he says just as Darla is about to open the door.

  “What, I thought you were…”

  “We got this” commands Brandon, again showing a confidence that Alex wishes he could have.

  “You girls, head on back down the hall. We can take care of this.”

  Looking at Alex, Darla gives him a quick glint of a smile but follows the other girls down the hall before emotion takes over and she is unable to hide her admiration for Alex’s facing his fear.

  “Okay, here’s how we’re gonnado this,” starts Alex but suddenly, without delay, Brandon gives the door a hard kick and jumps head first into the darkened office, disappearing into the shadows. Suddenly the room is filled with a raucous clatter, the sound of metal striking against all manner of surfaces.

  Fearing that his little brother has gotten himself into trouble that he can’t get himself out of Alex abandon’s any lingering fears that he might still have and jumps into the room. Catching faint glint of light reflecting off of something shiny and metallic heading straight at his face, Alex ducks down at the last second, barely avoiding the flailing object.

  “Bub! BUB! Calm down!” yells Alex, his eyes now adjusting to the dim light of the room.

  Able to make out Brandon’s shape standing in the middle of the room with another larger shape that looks somewhat human lying at his feet. Huffing and puffing, Brandon starts to walk over to the lone window in the office and pulls the roll away blind down a bit and then lets it loose, allowing its internal spring mechanism to roll it up with a loud flap.

  “Don’t worry, I got it” says Brandon as he starts to turn back towards his brother with a proud look of accomplishment on his face.

  Now bathed in the late afternoon light coming through the now uncovered window, Brandon can take in the fruits of his heroic action. Lying on the floor is the remnants of a human figure. Having been hacked mercilessly during Brandon’s slashing melee attack, the body lies in several pieces with arms and legs scattered on the floor.

  “Yep, you got him” says Alex, the sarcasm and mockery clearly evident in his voice.

  “What?” starts Brandon as he takes a closer look at his victim.

  “You got Fred. And Fred…he’s dead.”

  “Fred?”

  “Yep, poor Fred.”

  Taking in the scene now minus the adrenaline rush of the attack, Brandon sees that where flesh and bone and sinew should be appears to be nothing more than shredded newspaper and mangled chicken wire.

  “Fred…the school mascot. You know, the Musketeer? Fred was a statue that the art department made that used to stand out in the lobby of the school as a sort of inanimate greeter. You know, kind of like those old people at All-Mart, just a little livelier” explains Alex. “He stood out through the better part of my sophomor
eyear.”

  “So whywas he in here?”

  With a chuckle, Alex explains,“Well let’s just say some rambunctious students took it upon themselves to take a marker and add some“anatomical realism” to Fred. They painted and patched and covered it up but it kept getting done over and over so they just gave up. I thought they had just thrown him away but apparently he got moved in here.”

  Suddenly Alex and Brandon hear what can only be the sound of a large body rushing down the hall way. Turning towards the door they are greeted with a bellowing“Raaaawwwrrr” as Justin comes crashing into the room arms outstretched with his trusty air nailers at the ready.

  Quickly taking in the scene and feeling a bit embarrassed by his overzealous entrance Justin’s face takes on a bright reddish hue.

  Huffing from the strenuous five yard run, Justin manages a breathless“What? Where? And looking at the crumple of paper mache on the floor finishes with an exasperated “Why?”

  With a stern look of determination on his face Brandon looks at Justin and, with a quick and determined look offers a matter of fact “Hey, he came at me Bro. What’re ya gonnado?” and walks out the door.

  Looking at each other, Justin and Alex can onlyshrug and follow Brandon’s lead.

  Regrouping in the lobby Brandon, adopting his military toned cadence from earlier states“Main office…clear.”

  “Okay, so the office is clear. Where should we go next?” asks Darla.

  “I think we should go check out the art room, they should have all kinds of neat stuff in there” says Melody. “I once saw a video on how to make throwing stars out of utility knife blades and masking tape” she continues with an unsettling enthusiasm.