Trailer Park Zombies
Page 9
He shook his head. “Screw that, cahuna. I told you: I’m in for the count.”
I grasped the doorknob, hoping against hope that it had locked behind us when we ran pell-mell out of here. No such luck, of course. The knob turned easily in my hand. I opened it a couple inches and yelled, “Hello,” into the house.
There was no answer, not that I was expecting any. I think an answer back would have scared me more than anything else. But the main reason behind yelling was to see if I could hear any kind of shuffling or shambling or anything to indicate that I was about to be attacked by Barrett’s horde of zombies. Silence greeted my ears. The silence of the dead.
I wouldn’t let either of the others go first as I entered the trailer. Ambient light filtered in from outside but the sunlight wasn’t strong enough to come in too well so I still had to turn on the flashlight. I hated wasting a hand on it but that was the best I could do. Fannie Mae had her knife out and Barrett brandished the bat like he knew how to use it. I was more afraid of him bashing my skull in than anything else, but any port in a storm I guess.
We did a quick search of the living room and kitchen to see if the shotgun was in there but found nothing. Not that we’d expected it to be that easy. Barrett wanted to go first down the hallway and since he had the bat I let him go at it. I stood in the middle of the line about two feet back from him, shining the light in front, and Fannie Mae brought up the rear. I hoped that her standing back there would at least give her a fighting chance at escape if something happened.
Barrett reached the door to Tamara’s room and looked in it. His face paled noticeably. Crap. He turned to look at me. I hoped he wouldn’t faint. That was about the last thing we needed. As far as I knew Barrett had never seen a dead body before (other than my mom). I should have warned him how bad she looked.
I closed the distance between us and put my hand on his arm. “Barrett, it’s okay. Just ignore her. They wouldn’t keep the shotgun in her room.” He didn’t answer me, just kept staring into the room. I finally turned and looked myself.
Fuck. The body was gone.
I reached into the room, all my nerves alive with fire, and grabbed the doorknob. I quickly pulled it shut, making sure not to slam it. I turned back to Fannie Mae. “Keep your eye on that door.” She nodded silently to me, wide eyed.
I was afraid that Barrett wouldn’t be able to go on and that I’d have to take the bat from him and grab the lead but he completely surprised me and asked me if I was ready and when I nodded we kept going. There were no bodies in there either.
“What’s the chance that someone came and took the bodies?” Barrett asked quietly.
“I’d have to think that the chances of that are very small,” I said. “What purpose would anyone have in doing that?”
“I didn’t think so.” He looked around the room. “I would think we’d have been attacked by now if they were still here. Why don’t you two look for the shotgun and I’ll stand guard?”
Fannie Mae and I stepped gingerly around the blood as we began to search the room from top to bottom looking for the damn shotgun. We found a couple boxes of shells fairly quickly in the closet but the shotgun was nowhere to be found. It was only when I bent to look under the bed that I saw the edge of the barrel peeking out between the mattress and box spring. I breathed a sigh of relief as I grabbed for it.
That was when the hand snaked out from under the bed and grabbed my ankle. Hard. I’m pretty sure I screamed like a little girl.
It started to pull me under but I pulled back and I’m not real sure how the tug of war would have gone but that’s when Barrett and Fannie Mae came out from behind me and started pulling me. The strength in the hand wasn’t enough for all of us and we pulled its owner out to face the light. It was Tamara’s mother. Barrett cried out when he saw her and turned around looking for his baseball bat wherever he’d dropped it when he’d moved to help me.
He screamed like a little girl, too. At least I wasn’t the only one.
I turned my head to see what he’d screamed at and that was when I saw Tamara’s dad in the doorway. He just stood there not moving, looking at us. Thankfully he hadn’t moved in when we were distracted or he could have had us. I looked back down when I felt the grip on my foot release and I saw Tamara’s mom crawling out from under the bed.
I screamed his name, “Barrett!”
I faced me wildly. “Use the baseball bat! Try to clear us a path.”
He swung the bat at Tamara’s dad and managed a glancing blow on his shoulder. He rocked on his feet but it didn’t seem to affect him at all. Hopefully Barrett would remember to try for the head because I had enough trouble of my own getting to her feet before me. She looked just the same as she had a few hours ago when she’d been dead. Ripped apart. Naked. There was no gleam of recognition in her eyes – no sign of intelligence. There was nothing there and no one home.
I ran through about a thousand scenarios in my head in the three seconds it took her to reach me, but other than that I was completely frozen. If it wasn’t for Fannie Mae I’d be dead right now. Ish, that is. Dead-ish. Fannie Mae came out of nowhere behind me and shoved Tamara’s mom hard. Who apparently hadn’t found her zombie balance yet because she tumbled over easily back onto the bed. You could tell that her equilibrium change hadn’t even registered on her because she still kept reaching for me with that undeniable, implacable reach.
I still stood frozen.
Fannie Mae stepped forward and shoved her knife to the hilt in Mrs. Rogers’ eye. The questing hands immediately fell to the covers and whatever force was animating her left her body.
“Thank you, Fannie Mae,” I said breathlessly, finally able to move. “You saved my life.”
She was trying to tug on her knife, but it looked like it was stuck hard in the bone. She gave up with a cry of disgust as blood and other things started to weep out of the naked eye socket. She looked at me, “At least we know they can be killed.”
I sighed, “Yeah, and we know it’s infectious.”
We’d entirely forgotten about Barrett in our own struggle.
“A little help over here,” he cried out.
It looked like the bat was doing no good against Mr. Rogers. Either his skull was too thick or Barrett wasn’t strong enough because the blows just kept glancing off of him. Barrett pulled back for one more strike and that was when the zombie just reached out and took the bat from him. It looked at it curiously for a second and then fixed its gaze back on Barrett. It didn’t release its grip on the bat as it started to shuffle forward.
Barrett scuttled back the few feet to where Tamara and I stood. “Any ideas?”
I reached into the sports bag that I’d completely forgotten about when confronted with Mrs. Rogers’s naked form. The only thing we had left in it to protect ourselves with was the lighter and the lighter fluid. I scrambled to get the lighter fluid out and twist the top open. I squirted it on the slowly approaching form of Mr. Rogers from several feet away. Fortunately the contents were most definitely under pressure and I was able to soak him fairly well. He didn’t even register what I was doing.
I dropped the lighter fluid on the floor and reached into my pocket for the lighter. It was an old Zippo but thankfully it started on the first strike. I threw it on Mr. Rogers and sent up a quick prayer to whatever God there may be that it didn’t go out.
It didn’t. He lit up like a Christmas tree. But it didn’t stop him. He still moved forward like he didn’t feel a thing at all. He was limned in a halo of fire and now not only did we have a zombie between us and the door out of here, we also had a zombie that was on fire. Awesome.
The fire began to spread with every step that he took. I kicked the lighter fluid container across the room as I realized it would explode if the fire reached it.
Mr. Rogers began to move a little more slowly as the fire really began to catch hold in his flesh. I guess it took a bit for the fire to reach the brain. Smoke curled from him and began to circulate
through the room. I could hear Barrett and Fannie Mae coughing behind me as Mr. Rogers continued his inexorable steps forward. His eyes were locked on mine; or mine were locked on his. I felt hypnotized.
Fannie Mae tugged on my arm. I didn’t respond and she almost ripped my arm from its socket. I tore my gaze away from Tamara’s dad and Fannie Mae pointed toward the window. She bent over suddenly as a rack of coughing came over her. I looked at the window, confused. Suddenly a wave of understanding washed over me and I found I could move.
“Barrett,” I yelled. “The window! It’s broken. Get her out of here.”
He nodded and waved at me as he bodily picked Fannie Mae up and headed toward the window. I could feel a wash of heat at my back. I turned around and saw Mr. Rogers at my back not two feet behind me. His eyes and hair were on fire. The smell of charred flesh was overwhelming. He reached out to me with the hand that was holding the bat. Miraculously, it was almost untouched by the flames. I grabbed it from his hand. He released it easily.
I almost just pulled back and swung and then realized that was just as likely to cause him to fall on me as anything else. I gripped the handle with both my hands as hard as I could and straightened it out in front of me like I was holding a lance and shoved it forward with every ounce of strength I had. It wasn’t a good angle for me and I could feel my wrists protesting as the fat end of the bat made contact with his chest. I dug in with my feet and pushed even harder. He stumbled back a couple of steps but he obviously had better balance than his zombie wife had. He pushed forward against the bat, straining to reach me with his hands.
The heat was beginning to get to me. I could feel the burning in my lungs and the skin on my hands and face felt stretched taut. I didn’t think I could last too much longer. I gave one more shove with the bat and he slid back another foot. His arms pinwheeled madly through the air as he finally lost his balance. It was almost comical as he tried to find his balance and fell over backwards. I knew I didn’t have more than a few seconds so I turned to the window. I was alone in the room with the zombies. Thankfully both Barrett and Fannie Mae had gotten out.
I went for the window, remembering at the last minute to grab the shotgun from under the mattress and grabbing my Little League bag as I ran by it. The shells were in there and we’d need all of it to survive this day. I threw them both through the window as I started to climb through it. Barrett and Fannie Mae were standing about five feet away, safe and sound, thankfully. I looked back behind me and saw Tamara’s dad struggling to get to his feet.
His face was melting.
As I continued going through the window I saw his struggles finally stop and he lay still. The flames were consuming every inch of his body, and the trailer.
I jumped down onto the grass below the window, going down to my hands and knees as the cool morning air greeted my lungs. My throat felt like it was coated in smoke and filth. I so wanted to be out of here. I finally rose to my feet and grabbed the shotgun and the bag.
“We need to get out of here,” I coughed, “before people start showing up. The bodies will burn and no one will ever know.”
A new voice rose out of nowhere. “Hey, you kids. What’s going on here? What are you doing?”
We all swiveled around to face the newcomer. It was old man Simmons. I was moderately glad to see him. From the description the others had given me about this morning’s events I had half-expected that we’d either find his eaten body somewhere or that his shambling zombie body would attack us at some point. Not that seeing him at this moment was really much of a help.
None of us said anything. I was still trying to cough the smoke out of my lungs.
He stepped closer. He’d approached from the direction of the woods so it made me wonder what he might have seen out there. We really didn’t need anybody gumming up the works at this point. “I asked you some questions, kids. What’s going on here? Did you set that trailer ablaze?”
I shook my head and cleared my throat, trying to work up the spit to speak. Before I could get it out Fannie Mae spoke up. “No, we didn’t set it. Our friend Tamara lives here. We were just coming by to say hello and ….” She broke off and looked at me helplessly. Apparently Fannie Mae’s invention had reached its limits.
He looked at us with a critical eye, eying the gun in my hand. He looked ready to bolt, if you could say that a 70 year old man could do anything close to bolting. “Then why are you coming out through the window, eh? And why the gun? And where are the Rogers’?”
His gaze rested on me. I guess he figured since I had the gun I was the obvious leader of the group. “Did you hurt them, boy? I know you. You’re the Johnson boy.” He spit some chewing tobacco on the ground. I could see dribbles of it clinging to his white beard and it seeped slowly from his toothless mouth. Chewing tobacco – “baccy” – was a common substance out here. You could buy it in hard chunks in baggies and just bit a hunk off to chew. It was the most disgusting thing you’d ever want to see and you don’t even want me to tell you about what happens to a young boy who accidentally takes a swig from a spit cup. Let me just say that using an empty Coke can is not the best thing when you have little kids around.
Simmons looked at Fannie Mae. “And you’re the Jennsen girl.” He turned to Barrett. “I don’t know you, boy, but I’ve seen you around the Acres. I think you should all stay here while I go call the cops and the fire department. There’s a reckoning that needs to happen here.” He pointed at me, “Why don’t you put that shotgun on the ground, boy, and step away from it?”
I nodded and did as he said. No point in getting him worked up over that. Our story was completely unbelievable, even with the evidence of the bodies inside, so there was no point in making it worse. I almost relished the thought of going to the police station and getting out of here. The Acres had soured even more for me in the past 12 hours or so.
When I stood up from letting the shotgun go I looked back at old man Simmons and let out a yell for him to watch out, but it was already too late.
Tamara stood a few steps behind him, looking like she had the night before, what felt like eons ago. She was wearing some tiny boy shorts and a little tank top – her jammies, I guess. I hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing in the dark when she lying dead on her bed. The gaping wounds in her leg gleamed wetly although they no longer bled. The semblance of a grin on her face was marred when you noticed that she had no lips. I could only picture Mason tearing them off of her while she lay sleeping, giving her that one last kiss. Her arms were outstretched before her, fingertips grazing old man Simmons’s shoulders.
“What the hell?” He turned and tried to scream but that was when she struck. She pulled her head back like a cobra and buried her mouth in his neck. Blood sprayed straight in the air, sparkling in the small amount of light the clouds were letting down. He struggled under her mouth but it was long past a time when that would help him. He flailed and struck her repeatedly in the head, gurgling helplessly. Finally, his struggles ceased.
Tamara continued to guzzle and chew. She didn’t stop to take a breath or pull back to get a better grip or anything like that. Just kept digging in further and further.
Barrett, Fannie Mae and I all stood there frozen; silent witnesses to the horrors before us. None of us had so much as moved. I finally bent down and picked up the shotgun, opening the breach to see if it was loaded. It wasn’t, of course. I’m not sure if my movement had finally attracted her or if she’d taken enough out of him but it was at that moment that Tamara just let Simmons body fall to the ground. He fell like a sack of potatoes and landed with a sickening thud. I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that his hands were already twitching.
Tamara’s eyes were locked hungrily on the three of us where we stood in our little group. The lower half of her face and the whole front of her body was coated in blood. I pulled the equipment bag off the ground and stuffed the shotgun into it, pulling it back in close to my body. I tugged gently at both Barrett and Fannie Mae.
Barrett couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was one thing to see a zombie in the dead of night in a darkened hallway or inside of a trailer at close space. It was a completely different thing to see one under overcast sunlight. It made it more real somehow.
“Shouldn’t we do something about her?” He asked.
“If we shoot her in the head right now it will cause people to come running. They’ll see her dead body, a trailer on fire with bodies inside of it, and the three of us standing here. That won’t turn out well for us.” Screw the police. My sense of self-preservation was coming back.
“All right,” he said.
We took off running. As we rounded the corner I turned my head back to look at Tamara. She was still moving toward us slowly but there was no way she could ever catch up to us at that pace. I knew we’d have to deal with her later, but I sincerely hoped not. No one had yet noticed the fire but I could see smoke floating lazily toward the sky over the trailer. Someone would notice soon and I wanted us to be back in my trailer before that happened.