Trailer Park Zombies

by Jason H. Jones

  According to my dad, anyway. He was the safety inspector.

  She didn’t hold that against me, but Fannie Mae really didn’t like being around my parents. Not that she did before that, anyway. I didn’t either, obviously.

  She tried to huddle up against me for warmth but every time she did I kept scooting my butt a couple inches away. If she kept this up I’d have to get up or I’d run out of porch. Barrett was late, of course. He was one of those people who had no sense of time. Tell him to be somewhere at 7 P.M. and he’d show up right on time at 8:30. Grinning that shameless grin and shrugging his shoulders and not even acknowledging his lateness. I’d long ago given up on yelling at him about it.

  It was only a week to Halloween and usually we could count on it being warm for at least a little bit longer. But there was just something in the air that promised change. A taste of something on the back of my tongue. Change was coming and I could feel it my bones. The pregnant clouds made my head hurt with anticipation.

  Barrett roared up in the convertible with the radio blaring rap and the top down. He skidded to a stop in front of us, spitting gravel in the air. You could hear it pinging off the metal side of the trailer. Fortunately they all missed me and Fannie Mae. He grinned and waved us to the car.

  “Are you nuts?” I yelled at him. “Turn that shit down before someone calls the cops.”

  “If it’s too loud you’re too old!”

  I put my hand on the passenger door and yelled at him again. “Turn it off!”

  “What?” He said, turning it down. “Come on, Duke, get into the spirit of things. It’s your 16 birthday, we’ve got a hot car, and it’s time to go celebrate.”

  I leaned forward, “And if one of the old biddies around here gets upset by your music and calls the cops on you, so much for my birthday and my driving lessons, dumb ass. Come on. Please?”

  He pointed at the nearby trailers. “You know as well as I do that if anyone is home in the Acres tonight they’re probably watching Deal Or No Deal and getting hammered or stoned. This is a trailer park, man.”

  I shook my head in disgust at him while I held the door open for Fannie Mae to get in the backseat. I slid in the passenger seat and barely had time to put my seatbelt on before he took off with another squeal of the tires.

  “Dude,” I said, “not everyone here is a stereotype. It’s entirely possible to have normal people living here.”

  He looked at me with an eyebrow raised and said nothing. Even Fannie Mae giggled in the backseat. I raised my arms in defeat. “Okay, you got a point,” I said.

  The next two hours were full of hooting, hollering and much screaming from the back seat. In other words it was a grand old time. Litchville, Kentucky, isn’t very big and isn’t really known for having tons of stuff to do. There was a movie theater two towns over and a bowling alley one town over. About the only thing we had going for us was a Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town. There were a bunch of people in the trailer park who thought that made us somewhat special. They were the largest employer we had and if it wasn’t for them and the factory Litchville would have just blown away in the dust a couple years ago.

  The only thing we had in abundance was the bars and we were just chock full of those. Of course none of us were old enough to go near those so on weekends kids around town mostly just hung around in the parking lot of the Wal-Mart or went out into the woods to make out, booze it up, and party. There wasn’t that much else to do. None of the adults seemed to understand that the high rate of pregnancies might have something to do with that.

  Regardless, Barrett zipped us up and down a bunch of back roads and even ventured onto the highway for a short bit. He’d only had his license for a month or so himself so he was as happy as the rest of us to go hotrodding everywhere. I think Fannie Mae was just happy to be included. Happy enough that when Barrett pulled out a bottle of his dad’s whiskey and passed it around she didn’t even complain too much. She even had a nip or two, though each swallow was followed by a coughing fit as the whiskey burned its way down her throat.

  I didn’t want to have a drink myself. I’d seen enough of what the poison did to mom and dad (hell, the entire trailer park) that I didn’t want too much to do with it but Barrett finally convinced me that since it was my birthday I had to take a hit or two. Not to mention that if I didn’t he wouldn’t teach me how to drive the car.

  He could be an ass at times. But I took a couple swigs. God, did that stuff burn. Though I managed not to cough like Fannie Mae. A man has to have his pride, if nothing else.

  It took about two hours for me to convince him to take us over by the cemetery so that he could teach me. I’d never driven a stick before but I knew the basic mechanics. I’d only been behind the wheel of an automatic a few times and those were only when dad was feeling nice enough to let me drive down the Acres main road. Which wasn’t very often, truth be told.

  So it was about ten o’clock by the time we got to the gravel lot behind the cemetery. There were only a few lights back there so it was pretty dark. It hadn’t started to rain yet but the clouds were still threatening to. The lot was a good makeout spot so I was glad to see there was only one other car parked there and it looked like it was empty.

  Barrett turned the car off and looked at me, that shit-eating grin on his face. “You ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready, dammit. Can I drive now?” I started to get out of the car but he grabbed my wrist.

  “Listen,” he said. “You need to be very careful. This is my dad’s car.”

  “I understand -.”

  He cut me off. “I’m serious. Driving a stick is a little tricky so I want you to pay attention before you get behind the wheel.”

  “Okay,” I said impatiently.

  He ran me through all the steps for how to start the car: clutch in, little bit of gas, car in first. How I needed to have the clutch in every time the car was stopped, or have the car in neutral. How to get the car moving I needed to let the clutch out just a little bit until it caught while pressing the gas just a little bit until it started rolling. How to tell when I needed to shift into a higher gear and how to quickly let the clutch in, shift, then let it out again. He said as I did it more and more I’d get used to the whole process and wouldn’t think about it anymore. Blah blah blah.

  Finally I said, “Now?”

  He grinned and said, “Oh, yeah.”

  We quickly switched places and I just reveled for a minute behind the wheel. All this power was going to be controlled by me and I would be making us go. It was awesome.

  It only took three tries for me to get the car going without killing it. Give me a break, it was hard to remember to leave the clutch down all the time. The car would just jerk and shudder to a stop, slamming us all into our seats. I finally told Fannie Mae that if she didn’t stop muttering she could go ahead and get out and walk home. It didn’t stop her running commentary but she did at least finally start doing it under her breath.

  When I finally had the car running I slowly eased up on the clutch while giving the car a little bit of gas. The car shuddered almost to a stop and then shot forward like a bat out of hell. I could hear the engine whining as it wanted me to shift into second. Everything was happening too fast and both Fannie Mae and Barrett were screaming at me to stop. I slammed on the brakes. We skidded to a stop and gravel flew everywhere. I could hear a few rocks hitting the other car in the lot. Apparently I’d gotten closer to it than I thought. Oops.

  Of course the car died because I’d forgotten to put the damn clutch in again. Silence filled the night air. We were enough off the main road that we couldn’t hear any traffic and for a few minutes all I could hear was the harsh breathing of the others in the car. I could feel the shit-eating grin on my face as I looked around at Barrett.

  “That was awesome! Show me how to go in reverse so that I can do that again!”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, I don’t think so, Duke. Lesson over.”

  “O
h, come on,” I said. “Nothing happened. I just gave it more gas than I intended. I know better now.”

  He held his hand out. “Give me the keys, Duke. I think I just pissed my pants and my dad would kill me if I got that on the seats.”

  I took them out of the ignition and held them tightly in my hand. “No way, Barrett. You promised. It’s my birthday, remember?”

  He sighed and who knows what he would have said but that was when Fannie Mae cut in, “Isn’t that Mason Smith’s car?”

  Both our heads swiveled forward to look at the car that was now bathed in our headlights. Yep, it was Mason Smith’s car.

  “Shit,” we both said clearly, at the same time.

  Barrett looked at me and said, “Maybe we should go home now.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like an excellent idea,” I said. “I’ll drive.”

  No protest from Barrett as I tried to put the keys back in the ignition. Mason Smith was a senior at our school. He was the quarterback of the football team. Out-weighed the both of us by at least 100 pounds and was the meanest son of a bitch our high school had ever produced. The only thing that kept him out of jail was the fact that he was leading our team on to the first state championship we’d ever had and that helped grease a lot of wheels. Not to mention that half of the teachers were scared of him. And his dad was the sheriff. Peachy, huh?

  Of course, his girlfriend lately happened to be Tamara Rogers. Mason and I had had a few words over what he considered my inappropriate staring at his girlfriend. He did most of the talking. And by “words” and “talking” I, of course, meant that his fists pounding into my face tried to convince me not to look at Tamara anymore. Bruises and black eyes aside, I still remained unconvinced.

  Barrett called me a fool for not listening to Mason’s convincing arguments. While at the same time trying to goad me into talking to her. He was incorrigible.

  I still had the keys in my hand, trying to find the ignition, when a piercing scream cut through the air like a knife. It was followed by a guttural yell that was too low for us to make out. Fannie Mae whimpered in the back seat and Barrett grabbed my arm. He whispered, “Can we go now?”

  The scream cut through the air again. It cut off abruptly. “Ah, shit,” I said, cupping the keys back in my palm.

  “What?” Barrett spoke through clenched teeth, “Whatever’s going on is none of our business. Let’s go, Duke, before they realize we’re here.”

  I pointed at the car in front of us. “That’s Mason’s car, Barrett.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So who do you think that is screaming in there? Huh?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” he said. “Has nothing to do with us.”

  I looked at him. “You can be a coward if you want, Barrett, but I’m going in there. That has to be Tamara. I can’t just let that go.” I held the keys out to him. “You can go if you want.”

  “Fuck,” he whispered, shoving my hand away. “Let’s go.”

  He and I got out of the car and gently closed our doors. The small click they made as they latched was almost too loud for the night. I winced and turned toward Fannie Mae, “You stay here. If there’s any trouble -.”

  “Shit all over that, Duke Johnson. You should know me better than that,” she said as she climbed silently out of the car. Her tennis shoes hitting the gravel made even less noise than the doors had.

  I looked hard at her for a second, wanting to will her to stay there but I could tell by the set of her hands on her hips that she would have none of it. “Shit,” I said.

  “Exactly,” said Barrett as he finished coming round the car to stand next to me. “What’s the big plan, cahuna?”

  I shrugged. “Uh, go in and see what’s going on?”

  “Great plan,” he said, slapping me on the back. “You first.”

  Turns out there’s a rhythm to sneaking into a graveyard in the dead of night under a dark sky with a moon that’s edging toward full. You sneak. Try to avoid any rocks on the gravel and then squeeze through the barely opened gate. The well-worn path was a blessing at least, since we didn’t need to worry as much about tramping through the grass. There were twigs here and there but we managed to sidestep them all. If there were any bugs or bats or animals afoot in the cemetery that night they’d all gone to ground, sensing the evil that lay afoot.

  I felt like hiding in the grass myself but the thought of Tamara’s screams egged me on.

  Grunts and groans were coming from the center of the cemetery ahead of us. We inched slowly farther in, waiting for the clouds to part to reveal what was waiting for us. Neither of the other two would take a step in front of me, electing me leader by default. I’m pretty sure neither one would have entered the graveyard by themselves, scream or no. Whatever happened here would be all on me. Yay for initiative.

  I briefly flashed on the cell phone that I wished I had. Yet another one of those presents I’d never gotten. I didn’t think Fannie Mae had one, but Barrett should. I turned to him and whispered, “Do you have your phone with you? Maybe you should call 911.”

  He put his lips to my ear and breathed, “Already thought of that, cahuna. We left it back in the car. Can’t get much signal out here anyway.”

  Great.

  I shrugged and turned back to the area where we could hear the sounds coming from. The moon was hidden by clouds and as if God heard my thought the clouds parted and we could suddenly see what was before us. Tamara Rogers lay on the ground, spread-eagled. Her cheerleading uniform lay on her in tatters, ripped open to reveal her breasts. Her skirt was pulled up to her waist. Her panties were probably somewhere in the grass on top of one of the graves.

  She was crying silently and staring at the sky, doubtless not seeing anything.

  Mason Smith, star quarterback, sat a few feet away from her. He was leaning against a stone monument, a small smile on his face. His pants were around his ankles and his penis flopped uselessly against his thigh. It glistened wetly.

  I looked at Tamara again, noticing for the first time the trail of blood oozing down her thighs.

  I saw red. Before I knew it I was rushing toward Mason, not feeling the arms of my friends as they tried to haul me back. He saw me coming but didn’t have time to react before I kicked him square in the balls as hard as I could. He howled silently, not able to catch a breath. The cords in his neck stood out in stark contrast against the night.

  “Motherfucker!” I screamed at him. I honestly couldn’t tell you what else I screamed at him, but there were definitely quite a few choice obscenities in there. I turned toward Tamara, who hadn’t reacted to my presence. She was still staring at the night sky above her, her hands flung out above her head. The only sign that she was still alive was the tears slowly leaving a trail down her cheeks.

  I took a step toward her, but that was when Mason grabbed my ankle and yanked me back with all of his football quarterback might. I tumbled to the ground with a whumpf, landing with my face in Tamara’s stomach. She screamed again and shoved me off her, trying to scuttle away from me. I whimpered and rolled to my back, trying to catch my breath.

  Mason loomed over me, buckling his belt and zipping his pants. An evil grin was on his face, accompanying the scratch marks that trailed down one of his cheeks. At least Tamara had gotten her licks in. “You’re gonna pay, Johnson. Oh, are you going to pay.”

  I tried to gain my breath, gain my legs, something, but before I could Mason lashed out with a kick of his own and got me square in the upper thigh. I screamed as a lightning bolt of pain welled up inside of me. For a second all I saw was white. If he’d gotten me in the nuts it would have been all over. My dreams of getting a vasectomy at 21 and living a carefree life of random sex would have been all over. Just give me an invitation to the falsetto section of the choir and I’d sing my heart out for the rest of my life.

  Thankfully, he’d missed.

  Where are friends when you need them?

  I glanced behind me as I struggled to get
a handle on the pain and tried to get my hands under me. I could feel nothing except for the throbbing in my thigh. It felt like my leg was broken, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t. Barrett and Fannie Mae were both behind me trying to pull Tamara away from the fight. She was letting Fannie Mae touch her but wouldn’t have anything to do with Barrett. He and I locked eyes for a moment and all I saw in them was shame. In that moment I knew there’d be no help for me coming from him. He was a coward.

  I looked back at Mason, who apparently thought I was incapacitated. He was looking at Fannie Mae with a gleam in his eyes and rubbing his crotch. Maybe this was a normal Friday night for him, but I’m pretty sure if it was I’d have heard about it at school. I don’t know what had gotten into him, but I was going to take it out.

  Ignoring the blazing pain, feeling the anger blossom like a solid thing in my head, I managed to get to my knees. I swayed like a prize fighter going down for the last count, but some reserve of strength managed to well up within me and I finally managed to get to my feet. Mason looked at me.