Trailer Park Zombies

by Jason H. Jones

  “Something wrong there, Johnson? You might want to stay there on the ground or I’m going to have to put you out again. I think I’m going to have a taste of your little friend over there. She’s probably even tighter than old Tammy. Who’d have thunk that that little slut was a virgin, huh? With the way she flashes it all over town?”

  I roared as I launched myself at him. Well, it sounded like a roar inside my head anyway. It caught him completely by surprise as I tackled him like a sack of potatoes. He flew backward with me still attached to his hips, my arms wrapped around him to keep him off balance. We came to a sudden stop as he hit the granite monument behind him with a sickening crunch.

  My face landed in his lap as we hit the ground again, whipping my head back with a grunt and catching my tongue with my teeth, quickly filling my mouth with blood.

  Barrett pulled me to my feet. “Are you all right, man?”

  I spit the blood out of my mouth in the general direction of Mason Smith. Doing it again and again, trying to get the taste out of my mouth. I shook my head to clear it, then put my hand up to my face. “Ow,” I said.

  I tried to put my weight on my leg but it buckled beneath me. Fortunately Barrett still had a firm grip on me.

  “Someone needs to take the car into town to get the cops,” I said.

  Barrett looked at me blankly. “Why?”

  Maybe my head wasn’t very clear. “What do you mean, why?” I said around the blood. “He just raped Tamara and we just kicked the shit out of each other. We need to explain it all to the cops so he can go to jail.”

  Barrett didn’t say a word. He just pointed at Mason. Looked at me. Pointed again. “If we call the cops you’re the one going to jail, Duke.”

  “What?” What? I turned to follow his finger, keeping my weight firmly off my leg. “Oh, shit,” I said weakly.

  “Yeah,” Barrett said.

  Mason lay against the monument, his eyes open and glassy, staring into nothing. His neck lay at a crooked angle and I could see smears of blood decorating the stone behind him.

  I gripped Barrett tightly. “That’s it. I’m done. So much for dreams. No more escape from the trailer park, from this state, from this life. I’m going to jail forever, man.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started to cry. Everything was gone.

  A new voice spoke up behind me, “It doesn’t have to be that way, Duke.”

  “Huh?” I asked, not turning around. “How’s that? I just killed a man.”

  Tamara appeared in my line of sight, wrapped loosely in Fannie Mae’s coat, leaning heavily on Fannie Mae. Much as I was leaning on Barrett. The tears on her face had dried up, although it looked like they’d started on Fannie Mae’s.

  Tamara said, “We don’t call the cops. I was never here. You were never here. You don’t go to jail. Easy.”

  My jaw dropped. “But he raped you, Tamara. People have to know that he was with you tonight. There’s no way around that. They’ll come for you and you’ll tell them what happened. It’ll be better if I tell them now.”

  “No, Duke,” she said, coming to a stop before me. “No one knows that he was with me. We didn’t leave the game together. Plus, I’m his girlfriend. Why would he rape me? I’m the slut of the Acres, remember?”

  “Tamara, you’re not,” I said.

  “Shush,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. It is what it is. I’ll go back to the trailer, take a shower, trim my nails, scrub every inch of my body down. They can say what they want, but I’ll never tell them what happened.”

  I looked at Barrett and Fannie Mae. “Talk some sense into her. This isn’t right.”

  Barrett opened his mouth, but it was Fannie Mae who spoke first. “She’s right, Dukey. This is the only way. You’re the only one of us who has the chance to get out of here. I couldn’t stand the thought of you rotting in jail. He was a monster,” she nodded down at Mason, “and you don’t deserve to go to jail in his place.”

  Barrett just nodded when I looked at him. He couldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Fine,” I said wearily. “What do we do about him?”

  Tamara looked down at Mason’s body. “Screw him,” she said. “Let the animals have him. Let him rot. Someone will find him.” She nodded at the sky. “The rain will come down eventually. That will wash the body clean for us.”

  “All right,” I said simply. “Let’s go home.”

  Happy birthday to me.

  3.

  Who knows what magic breathes in the empty spaces, in the dark of night? On a cursed body rapidly cooling on the grounds of a now unconsecrated burial ground? Who knows what secrets lurk in the heart of the world and the places that man cannot see?

  How the hell should I know?

  All I know is that as midnight arose and the four of us stumbled away to try to heal our wounds and forget the horror behind us another nightmare somehow managed to find purchase in the world. It slunk somehow through the night and we did not sense it as it passed us. It crept into the fading shell of the quarterback on the ground. Maybe it was a demon or a disease or some creeping nothingness from beyond the realms of knowledge. But from somewhere it came and it found purchase there in that shell.

  And a dead finger twitched.

  Barrett dropped Tamara off first. The rumble of the engine seemed muted somehow, as if even the car understood the tragedy and the need to be silent. She and Fannie Mae both got out of the car, Tamara hugging the coat around her nearly naked body and Fannie Mae’s arm strung tightly across her shoulders. Barrett asked Fannie Mae if she wanted him to wait and she just shook her head silently. I glanced at them in the rearview mirror as Barrett turned around to take me home and I could see them both standing at the bottom of the stoop staring at us. The things I wish I would have said.

  We stopped in the parking space in front of my trailer and Barrett turned off the car. The tick of the engine cooling was the only sound to be heard for a minute or two until the twang of some country music warbled through the air at us from a couple trailers away. That seemed to break the hold that the silence had on us.

  “Barrett,” I said.

  He broke in, “We’re not talking about it, buddy. Not tonight, maybe not ever again.”

  “Okay,” I said, wondering to myself if that were true. Would the events of tonight never again pass our lips? Would I be able to push it all aside and never again think of the crack of Mason’s neck against the stone as we piled to the ground?

  Barrett pulled the bottle of whiskey from under the seat and took a long swig. He shuddered and closed his eyes, putting his forehead on the steering wheel. His shoulders shook and I thought I detected a sob but I pretended not to hear it. I was still in shock and staring out across the Acres. It was midnight and the place wasn’t booming like you’d expect a trailer park to be. Half the residents were probably in town getting drunk and the other half were apparently hunkered down, probably doing the same thing.

  Barrett proffered the bottle in my direction without looking at me. “Want some?”

  “No, I’m good,” I said. “Think I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “tell me about it.” He pulled the bottle back in and took another deep swig.

  “You know, maybe you should stay here tonight. Doesn’t look like dad’s home yet, so he probably won’t be back til late and mom’s oblivious to the world. She won’t notice.”

  “Duke,” he said slowly, “I’d rather be home.” I could see the thought passing through his mind that he’d like to turn away and never come back again, but we were friends and that meant something to him. “But I think you’re right. I probably shouldn’t drive.”

  He turned the key to the car and hit the button to close the top. It latched firmly and we still just sat there. In the dark. I could hear him putting the cap back on the bottle and sliding it into his jacket.

  “Tonight was completely f’ed up, cahuna.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t agree more.”

  H
e tapped his fingers on the steering wheel a couple times and then took the keys out of the ignition and put them in his pocket. The silence was getting heavy. “Let’s go,” I said. “I need some sleep.”

  We got out of the car. I was moving a bit slowly. My leg was feeling a little better, although there was a deep throbbing in the thigh that was trying to scream for attention. It would hurt in the morning, that’s for sure. I was able to walk at least, that was a good thing. That would have been hard to explain to my parents, if they’d notice.

  Mom was passed out on the couch when we went outside. A cigarette had burned out between her fingers and a bottle was pressed firmly between her thighs. Eerily, it was the same whiskey that we’d been drinking from earlier and that Barrett had mostly finished off in the car. The TV was on but the sound was turned low enough to be nothing more than unintelligible noise.

  We stumbled by her, not even trying to keep quiet. Mom would be out until at least noon on Saturday judging by the empty bottle. At some point she’d probably get up and go to bed but even that couldn’t be guaranteed. I’d spent quite enough Saturdays cleaning up a piss-soaked couch to know that she didn’t always get up to use the bathroom.

  My bedroom was down the hallway, off to the side, right next to my parent’s room. It was a fairly good sized bedroom for being in a trailer. Usually when people hear “trailer” they think of tiny things that you can haul around behind your truck but the truth is that most trailers are just houses on wheels. A little cramped, but still a good enough size to trick you into thinking you’re living in a small home.

  I had a twin bed and a futon in there. Barrett had spent enough nights there over the years, so he knew right where to go. I don’t think he even took his shoes off before pitching himself face down onto the futon. He was snoring less than 30 seconds later. I was glad I hadn’t let him drive home.

  I was exhausted. Felt like I could use about 20 hours of rest and that someone had beat the crap out of me with a tree trunk. I guess they kind of had. Part of me wanted to go take a shower and another big part of me wanted to just lie down and put my head under the covers and collapse. But I had to clean the cuts on my face if nothing else. See how bad they were.

  I went into the bathroom and locked the door, staring into the mirror. The fluorescents put my face in stark relief. I looked awful. My eyes were sunken back into my head and my skin was waxy and pale, covered in a cold sheen of sweat. The scratches on my face from where Tamara had reacted and pushed me away actually weren’t too bad, though. Very shallow, superficial cuts. I wet a wash cloth and picked at them, trying to scrub some of the night away. I’m not sure that it worked but by the time I was done my face had at least regained some of its color. The night was still there in my eyes, though. I wasn’t sure if I could ever get that haunted look out of them.

  The cuts didn’t look like they’d bled that much and washing them hadn’t opened them back up thankfully. They were faint trails going down my cheek. Unless sleeping on them made them come back out I thought I was okay on that front at least. I looked down at my pants and brushed my hand over my thigh. The pain wasn’t as sharp or as deep as it had been, but my thigh was definitely swollen. I briefly considered taking my pants off and having a look at it but after a quick internal debate I said screw it and decided to leave it for the morning.

  I looked out the bathroom window as I stood over the toilet and did my business. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Not in an “I just killed a guy who raped the girl I was in love with” kind of way – that certainly didn’t feel right, either, but it was something I could work with – things just felt wrong somehow.

  Whatever it was, it could last until morning. I was beat. I kicked my shoes to the side and took my shirt off as I limped my way back to my bed and threw the shirt in the general direction of the hamper. It missed, but then there were more clothes on the floor in front of the hamper than there was inside it anyway. I lay on my back on the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. After a few seconds of that I rolled over onto my side, facing the window. Next thing I knew, I was asleep.

  A gripping fear woke me sometime later. My heart was beating wildly and I could feel my pulse throbbing everywhere in my body. It felt like the whole world was shaking and I could hear a rumbling in the air. A peal of thunder broke the air like a gunshot and the flash of lightning seared the backs of my eyeballs. Sweat broke out over my body and chills swept up and down my spine. It felt like I was drowning.

  I swam my way out from under the covers as another crash of thunder sounded right on top of the trailer. At some point in my sleep I’d curled into a tiny ball at the bottom of my bed and wrapped myself in the blanket. It felt like I was suffocating and when I finally managed to break my head out into the air I breathed in hard like a marathon runner at the end of the race.

  I just lay there for a few moments trying to catch my breath until another peal of thunder surprised a cry from my lips. There was not a single light on in the house and none was shining through the window. Looked like the power was out. A pretty common occurrence here at the Acres in the middle of backwoods Kentucky.

  My heart was in my throat and I was doing my best to calm down and get my body back under control. I’d had dreams of being trapped in the dark and chased by some faceless enemy. Constant running and hiding and never quite managing to get away. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused that dream.

  Thunder rattled the windowpanes three more times. Each one made me jump like I’d been shot. The night was quiet after the last one so I wondered if that was going to be it for the storm. It didn’t even look like it’d rained yet judging by the dryness of the window and sometimes God just let the sky knock at our doors a few times and then leave without the rain actually coming.

  “What was that?” I muttered to myself.

  I’d been looking at the window to see if it was wet and I could swear I’d seen a shadow flit by. It had paused and then moved on again. It wasn’t distinct enough to see what might be causing it, but something had definitely gone by my window. That wasn’t odd in and of itself since my window did face out onto the rest of the Acres, but no one should be that close.

  I tried to rise out of bed but when I put my weight on my leg a sharp burst of pain radiated from my thigh and went straight to my mouth. I fought to hold back the scream and all that came out was a grunt. Tears rolled down my cheeks from holding in the hurt. Damn, I should have taken off my pants. The jeans around my thigh were swollen enough to fill in every crease. My thigh had swelled to at least twice its normal size.

  I gingerly put that leg back down on the floor and tried to put weight on it. It hurt less now that I was geared up for the pain but it still hurt worse than it had when I went to bed. However many hours ago that was. Bracing myself for the pain and leaning on my wall with one hand I put my weight on both my legs and rolled to a standing position. I stood like that for a good 30 seconds or so and let the pain roll through me. I could do this. I could deal. Mind over matter.

  The first step I took toward the window brought a hiss of pain to my lips. I was able to bite it back on the second step and by the third I was able to take my hand off the wall as I stumbled to the window. I uttered a small cry of victory as I reached the window, sparing a quick glance for Barrett splayed out a couple feet from me. He was sleeping heavier than the dead. Nothing was going to wake him up.

  I moved the curtain and held it aside with one hand. It definitely hadn’t rained yet although I could see the lightning flickering off and on in the distance. Maybe we’d lucked out this time and missed the rain. Driving and walking through the gravel in the Acres was a pain at any time, let alone if it was wet with rain.

  The Acres was completely and utterly dark. No street lights or gas lamps came from any of the trailers. I glanced at my watch: 3:00am. The witching hour. It was doubtful anyone was still up and most people would have just rolled over once they saw the lights were of
f. Nothing that needed to be dealt with this late at night.

  I’d slept for a little over two hours and even though I’d been heavy with exhaustion when I lay down I was now completely awake. My heart still thudded a little bit in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling of the dreams and the wrongness that had pervaded it. Even though I could see nothing looking out my window it still seemed like things were a little off.

  I’m sure it was just the nerves of what had occurred barely three hours ago, but still. I felt wired.

  From my window I could see the back end of Barrett’s car and I could tell that something didn’t look right but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It seemed off, too. I knew his dad would kill him if something happened to that car and since I was wide awake anyway I figured I might as well go outside and check it out. He didn’t deserve to get in trouble over me. I’d shield him and Fannie Mae from everything that happened as much as I could.