Her right eye was missing and a strip of flesh hung loosely down her cheek. A quick tug would take care of it ripping it free. Her mouth was open and her tongue was missing. Only a rotten piece of flesh lay where it used to be. Her other eye rolled wildly in its socket and I couldn’t tell if it was looking at me or not. But I could feel her gaze resting heavily on me nonetheless. Her hand still squeezed mine gently.
Barrett looked even worse. His face was nothing more than a grinning skull. All the flesh was missing; having been eaten away by God knows what. His very big, very white teeth grinned at me gently. It was surprisingly recognizable as a Barrett grin even with his face gone. His clothes hung on him in tatters and I could see wounds covering most of his chest and body. Knife cuts and slashes, small holes as if from a gun and even what looked like pockmarks from a shotgun blast.
I shuddered helplessly, feeling the warmth of the fire being leeched from my flesh. I looked beyond them and saw Mason Smith not 20 feet away. He was just standing there watching his children do their work. Barrett’s fingers dug into my shoulders and with a wrench and a tearing sound he pulled away a hunk of flesh. Waves of pain rolled through me. I felt dizzy and heavy and my breath was coming in quick gasps. Only Fannie Mae stepping forward kept me from falling into the fire.
She put her arms around me in a tight hug and pressed her cheek against my chest. Gripping me tightly with one arm her other hand snaked down to my pants, undoing my belt buckle. Doing what I’d always known she wanted to do and pulling my pants and underwear to the side so that she could grip my penis. Her cold, dead hand caressed it gently and then cupped my balls. I was, not surprisingly, repelled by this and my penis hung limply in her palm and tried to shrivel up inside my body.
I almost didn’t feel the pain as she yanked gently and tore my equipment from my body. Endorphins rushed through my head and I felt lightheaded as I rose above the pain. She raised her hand to her face and I could see my penis lolling gently in her palm as she slipped it in her mouth. She didn’t even bother to chew it, just raised her head back and let it slither down her throat. Then she cradled me in her arms again.
My legs could no longer support me and she and Barrett gently lowered me to my knees. They kneeled next to me and both hugged me tight. They were done with whatever feeding they wanted to do from me. I could feel the change begin to work its magic in my flesh. Darkness skittered across my vision and shadows flitted just out of the corner of my eye. My brain stopped pumping the chemicals through my body and yet there was no pain. My limbs stiffened and yet I could still move. Peace was over me and then quickly left my body to be replaced with an implacable hunger. It felt like I’d never eaten before in my life and only flesh, flesh, and more flesh could satisfy me. A small part of my brain wanted to fall backwards into the fire, to try to free me from this prison, but the rest of me wouldn’t let it. That small piece withered and died with the rest of me.
I woke up screaming.
Barrett and Fannie Mae were inches from my face, so I decided to scream some more.
Barrett put his hand behind my neck and lifted me out of the water a little ways. Fannie Mae’s face was bright red and blushing but it was very obvious that she couldn’t take her eyes off of what I was showing underneath the water. That only recalled the dream even more vividly for me and I quickly reached to cover my genitals.
“What the hell are you guys doing?”
Fannie Mae opened her mouth to speak but she was too mortified or embarrassed or whatever to even get any words out. She finally threw her hands up in the air and ran back to the doorway, turning her back on me and Barrett.
He looked at her and rolled his eyes at me, the ghost of that familiar grin crossing his face.
“Don’t start, Barrett. What are you guys doing in here?”
“You’ve been in here for about an hour, Duke. We were getting worried that maybe you’d done something or gotten hurt or something. We heard the water running and then nothing.” He looked at me sheepishly.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and then sat up fully, pushing his hand away. “Worried about what? What’d you think I’d do?”
Fannie Mae spoke from the doorway, “You were pretty distraught over Tamara and Mason. I thought maybe you’d hurt yourself.”
“Like kill myself? Geesh, Fannie Mae, give me a little bit of credit.”
“Sorry, Dukey. It’s just been one of those nights.”
“Yeah, whatever. Can I have five minutes to myself to get dressed?”
Barrett backed up and shrugged at me, then turned to shut the bathroom door. That’s when I began shivering, either the cold from the bathwater or the dream finally hitting me. I’m not really sure which it was but either one alone was enough to do it. I could still feel the cold wind pulling at me and didn’t even want to think about what Barrett and Fannie Mae had done to me in the dream. I pushed it to the side as much as I could and pulled the drain in the tub.
I stood up, testing my weight on my hurt leg. The swelling had gone down significantly. It was still tender and hurt to put my weight on it but at least I’d be able to put pants on and be able to walk on it. I went to the mirror and inspected myself again. The dream had been so vivid that I expected to see hunks of flesh missing from my body. Thankfully all the equipment was there and in working order. I even field tested it by taking a piss in the toilet. It felt awesome although everything was all shriveled from the ice cold water.
I dried off as quick as I could, trying to will away the cold. Light was shining in the window but it was very murky and dark. I should have known it was going to be one of those days. I’d forgotten to bring clothes in with me so I peeked out the door to make sure Fannie Mae wasn’t lying in wait and went to my bedroom and quickly got dressed. I put on one of my old gray hoodies and a pair of jeans that was at least marginally cleaner than the ones I’d been wearing the night before. As I slipped my socks and shoes back on I thought about our situation and what – if anything – we could do about it. Not much really came to mind.
The only things we really had in the house that could be construed as weapons were the knives in the kitchen and my old aluminum baseball bat from my short days in Little League. I’d briefly thought I’d be the next Hank Aaron but those dreams were quickly dashed by my dad. Not only did he berate me at every opportunity but he actually came to a couple games. Drunk, loud, and full of piss and vinegar. It only took a few games before the coach told me I was no longer welcome on the team.
I made a conscious effort to wall the dream off in my brain and try to box it in with bricks and mortar. Not sure how successful I was but I hoped I’d at least be able to look Barrett and Fannie Mae in the face without thinking about it. I kept seeing my penis disappear down her throat and it only made me want to crawl into bed and hide, but I steeled myself for it, threw it all in the back of my head, and went out into the living room.
They were both standing in front of the window staring out at the trailer park. They had the curtains drawn a little bit and were standing far enough back that they couldn’t be seen from the outside. Hopefully, anyway. They stood about two feet apart and from their stance I could tell they’d been arguing yet again. I chose to pretend I didn’t see it and strode up to stand between them at the window.
“Anything going on?”
Barrett answered me. “Not really. Old man Simmons came out about an hour ago for his morning walk. We saw him strolling out back toward the middle of the park but he hasn’t come back yet. Fannie Mae and I were arguing whether or not he should be back by now but haven’t come to any conclusions. What do you think, cahuna?”
I shrugged. “I’m never up this early, so I have no idea. I’d think he’d be able to walk around the entire Acres in an hour, though. I guess he could be walking in the woods or something.”
He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really,” Fannie Mae said. “A couple people took off
in their cars. I’d guess to go into town and get supplies or go into work. The power’s still out. It’s still pretty quiet. It’s only 7:30, after all.”
“Any sign of,” I swallowed, barely able to get the words out, “Mason?”
They both shook their heads at me. “Nothing that we’ve noticed,” Barrett said. “No shambling zombies.”
Fannie Mae smirked, “And no zombie hordes, either.”
I sat down on the couch, as far away from mom as I could get. I’d studiously ignored her since I came into the room. “Barrett, I think it’s time you explained some things about zombies. Educate us.”
He pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat across from me, leaning on his knees so that we were eye to eye. Fannie Mae sat at the window but I could tell she was listening.
“I’m not exactly an expert on this, Duke. I’ve just watched a bunch of horror movies and scared the crap out of myself.”
“That’s better than either one of us,” I said. “Talk. Tell us what you know. Or what you think you know.”
He shrugged and stared off into the distance, eyes unfocusing as he racked his brain. “There are as many different legends or myths as there are movies. What’s common is that zombies always transmit the infection by bite. They seem to need to feed on living flesh. Once the victim is dead they stop and go on to the next person and the person they just killed gets up and starts killing, too. In some movies it affects every dead person, even the ones in the grave or who die naturally. It seems to be dependent on how the original infection starts.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question but he held his hand up to stop me.
“None of the movies ever really address how the infection starts. I’ve seen movies where it’s because of a meteorite crash landing with the virus or some kind of alien infestation or even just cause it’s the end of the world and that’s the way it is. If Mason did rise up just because you – we – killed him then the sky’s the limit on what caused it. Maybe there was something in the soil or he made a deal with the devil or some weird shit happened. Maybe there’s just no explanation.”
“Okay,” I said. “What else?”
He shrugged. “If he’s just out for revenge and he’s cognizant of what he’s doing maybe he’ll only kill those involved: you, me, Fannie Mae and Tamara. That’s a good bet. If that’s the case maybe he’s not infectious and will just rest when he’s done killing us all. Or if he’s just a brainless zombie he’ll go where the food is and wipe out everybody. Impossible to say. He may or may not have any brains left with which to make decisions or think. Most zombies are just revenants: out to kill and eat. No more mind than a mouse. In some movies they seem to remember and feel and know things. In those they’re usually more dangerous and more cunning. Out for maximum damage.”
I recalled my dream of him and Fannie Mae warming themselves by the fire and shuddered.
“What about killing them?” Fannie Mae said quietly from the window. She didn’t take her eyes off the view. She was our little watchdog.
He shrugged again. “As many different ways as there are movies. Bullet to the brain or some kind of trauma to the head seems to be pretty common. Usually. I’ve seen movies where they can’t be killed at all, but I refuse to accept that. Anything can be killed. Fire could probably do it.” He thought for a few seconds and then just raised his head. “I guess that’s it.”
“Not much to go on,” I said. “Fire or guns for the safe bet.” I pointed to the bat I’d brought into the room. “Would knocking them in the head with that do it?”
He sighed wearily. “How should I know, Duke? Maybe? If you hit them in the right spot with the right amount of force?” He gestured toward the knife that Fannie Mae had not two inches from her hand. “The knife would probably work, but only from certain angles. The skull is a big piece of bone and you have to destroy the brain. The knife would more likely get stuck and then you’re too close to them and that’s it. All she wrote.”
I laughed. “Okay, then. Either of you happen to have a gun?”
“My dad does,” Barrett said. “In town. Locked up in his gun safe. He takes that key with him, though, and honestly, if I got the hell out of the Acres I wouldn’t be coming back. Sorry, Duke, but that’s the truth.”
I waved that off. “Fannie Mae. Your mom have any guns lying around the house?”
She shook her head. “Nope. She doesn’t believe in them. Sold my dad’s guns after he died.”
Barrett looked at me. “How about you?”
“If we had any guns here mom probably would have taken it to dad a long time ago. Sounds like we’re screwed there.”
Fannie Mae sighed. “Not necessarily.”
Barrett and I both swung our heads to look at her. “How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, for one, we’re in the middle of Kentucky. You can’t tell me half these trailers here don’t have guns up the wazoo.”
“Granted,” I said. “But we can’t just go knocking on doors asking to borrow a gun to go killing zombies.”
She nodded. “Tamara’s dad has a shotgun.”
I stood up and approached her. “You sure?”
“Yeah. When I was there last night she said that if her dad saw what Mason had done to her that he’d break out the shotgun and blow his nuts off. She seemed pretty serious about it.”
“Crap.” I sat back down.
Barrett caught my eye and we looked at each other for a minute. “If you’re going back over there I’m coming, too.”
“You don’t have to do that, Barrett. I’ll go by myself.”
“Shit on that, Duke Johnson!” Fannie Mae got up from her perch in front of the window and stuck her finger in my chest. “If you’re going, I’m going. We’re a team and no one is going out there by themselves.”
I looked at her, floundering for words. All I could see was her and Barrett in my dream and I wanted to do anything I could to make sure that didn’t happen.
Barrett stepped forward and they both stood in front of me. “We’re all going, Duke. There’s no way around that.”
I sat back down. “Fine. How are we going to get all the way over there without being noticed and get the shotgun out of there and get it back here?”
Barrett sat back down, too. “You worry too much, cahuna. All we have to do is walk over there like we own the place and no one will say anything. They all know we go to school together so no one will think too much of it. Especially if Fannie Mae goes with us.” He thought for a minute, stroking his chin. “You still have your Little League equipment bag?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect. We can use that to carry the shotgun and baseball bat. And anything else we think we’ll need.”
So in the end I pulled the bag out of the back of my closet and we packed it full of little goodies: my bat (although it was a fierce debate as to whether we should just carry that or not), a bottle of acid, some holy water, hand grenades. Stuff like that. I wish. All we had in there was a bat and the butcher knife. Fannie Mae carried her knife in her sleeve. She wouldn’t be parted from it.
I ended up carrying a lighter and a bottle of lighter fluid that we used to start the grill when we were cooking out. It was a squeeze bottle and it was about half full. It was the closest thing I had to a real weapon.
Hopefully none of it would be necessary. Hopefully the Rogers were still the quiet dead and we could just grab the shotgun and go. And hopefully we’d never have a need for the shotgun at all.
If hopes were wishes maybe we’d all still be alive.
9.
My little army of three set out across the Acres about 7:45 or so in the morning the day after my 16 birthday. We tried to look inconspicuous as we watched all three angles of approach on our position. You could hear that the Acres was finally stirring and waking up. Doors were being slammed and kids could be heard yelling. Only the little kids, of course, the older ones knew enough not to be up at this insane hour.
The trek across the Acres
went a little faster than it had a few hours ago, in the dead of night. It was easier to see our way and easier to see if any creatures were coming out to get us. My leg felt a million times better after the soak in the tub and I was actually walking with hardly a limp at all. We ended up in front of Tamara’s trailer in little more than five minutes. Far too soon for my taste.
It just looked dead sitting there.
The empty trailers on both sides looked more alive than the Rogers’ trailer did. Its emptiness stank of death to us. Of course, we knew that death was the only thing awaiting us on the inside but still.
We tried not to look shifty as we approached the front door. The bloody handprint stood out in stark contrast against the whiteness of the door. Barrett whispered, “Oh, fuck,” under his breath and shivered.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can wait outside and cover our backs.”
Trailer Park Zombies Page 8