Five
“Sully, it's time to open, we need to get ready."
"What's the point, Deep? Let’s admit it - This place is a stinking shit hole." Suleman had spent the last two hours going through Dankworth’s report on the clipboard, ticking boxes that said ‘Excellent’ and scrubbing out the many boxes that said ‘Terrible.’ He also changed the log details in Dankworth’s diary to make it appear like he'd left the Bindi and was on his way to his next appointment.
He thought about what to do with the man strung up in his shed and couldn't come up with anything that would get him off the hook and make his restaurant look clean and pleasant in the process.
"He made me throw out all the meat and we aren’t getting any more deliveries." The thought of going through the bins for something adequate to put on his customer’s plates crossed his mind. He really didn't want to go that far, but knew he would if push came to shove.
"We can't open up if we don't have any meat, Sully."
Ever since Dankworth had joined them, those things that were strung up in the shed had been more incessantly loud and disturbing than usual. Suleman assumed they'd taken an interest in their new mate who was strung up between them.
"If only there was some way we could shut those bastards up?”
Almost as if an epiphany had appeared, Suleman and Mandeep looked to each other in unison.
“No…We can’t…” Mandeep stuttered.
"I think we have no other choice, Deep.”
"I think the choice we have is to call an ambulance to take those freaks off our hands."
"But what a waste of precious meat that would be."
Six
They opened the door to the shed and light illuminated the interior. The two freaks on either side turned their attention from Dankworth to Suleman and Mandeep, four arms reaching out in futile hope of grabbing some flesh, hissing and spitting with want.
A large pool of drool lay below the fat one and Suleman was drawn to him first. "Oh, you silly man, eating your arm like that. You stealing my profit from me, huh?" That more than anything pissed Suleman off, especially considering he still hadn't paid his bill.
"What is this? What are you doing with me?" Dankworth had turned white. A pool of vomit lay below where he was suspended.
"You try to shut me down, huh?" Suleman brought a meat cleaver out from behind his back and brandished it at Dankworth. "You're not so big now are you, Boss?"
"Please don't kill me! I promise I won’t shut you down. I'm so thirsty. Who are these people?"
"No, we don't need you - Yet, anyway!” Suleman laughed. “But we'll be back for you, Boss." Suleman raised the meat cleaver and hacked into the ample gut of Dr Rothwell. "Chicken korma." He placed a large quantity of stomach flesh on the tray Mandeep held. He hacked into him again and again, placing more blubber on the tray. "Pork vindaloo." He hacked at the one good arm until the humerus severed close to the origin and dumped the appendage on the tray. "The Widower!" He winked at Dankworth. "What marks do we get for hygiene, Boss?"
Dr Rothwell growled. He didn't seem to mind the hacking of his gut, but losing the one remaining arm did disappoint him. It was almost like he was saving that for later.
Seven
“So that's six Widowers." Mandeep made the note on his pad and ran back to the kitchen.
Suleman saw the order and gave Mandeep a high five. "I can't believe how busy it is tonight. We're back in business, Deep!"
Suleman took the cuts of meat from his tray, shaped them into something resembling chicken and threw them in the pan. "Don't want to forget these." He slipped on the goggles; he really didn't want to get that stuff in his eyes. Suleman then diced the twenty, ultra hot Naga Infinity Chillies, the Widower’s secret ingredient, threw them to the pan and listened contently to the sizzle. The Widower was rated ten thousand times hotter on the Scoville scale than tabasco sauce, which meant that Suleman really couldn't understand why it hadn't taken off more than it had. However, tonight could well be the beginning of a turnaround in the Bindi's fortunes. What was more, he had a guaranteed meat supply for several weeks.
When the dishes were ready, Suleman placed them on the trolley and Mandeep wheeled them to the hungry customers.
When Mandeep returned, Suleman was looking through the serving hatch at the customers eating. Mandeep joined him, Suleman didn't mind. They laughed as they watched the bodybuilder jumping around like a little girl after taking a single mouthful. They watched the local boy racer in baseball cap crying like a baby. They saw the long haired student with studs in his face stupidly drinking water and then finding his mouth became even hotter.
"Busiest evening in a long time, Deep. I'd best prepare the next batch of chicken." He said with a wink. "Go check on the customers." Suleman decided he'd bring in a length of intestine for the next set of patrons; he didn't want that to go to waste.
He'd soon have the money to pay off Rajesh and have his meat supply reinstated. After all, if you're in business, it really does no good to have your bridges burned. But then he recalled how Rajesh had spoken to him on the phone, threatening to call his lawyers and insulting him. Nobody insulted Suleman and got away with it. He knew where Rajesh lived and thought about visiting his property with Vikram and a few hired hands to deal out some punishment and avenge the insult he'd received. It even briefly entered his head to bring Rajesh back to his shed, string him up by the ankles and feed him to the customers; he was his meat supplier after all. Was that taking things too far? Sure, it was one thing feeding people who refused to pay their bill, who were already in the restaurant, to your customers, but it was another thing entirely to go out and actively look for people to feed as chicken or pork to your patrons.
"Sully, Sully!" The shout came from the dining area.
Suleman ran and arrived just as the bodybuilder stood, almost tipping the table over. He had that same empty look in his eyes he'd seen in Dr Rothwell while he was pressing his back against the urinals. Three of the other diners were already on their feet and Mandeep was using his trolley to keep them at a distance.
Suleman's first instinct was to dive for the front door and run, leaving Mandeep to deal with the aftermath. If anything bad happened to Mandeep, then he could finally hire his illegal worker, decreasing in an instant his wage bill, enabling him to get the business back into profitability at a faster pace. However, as soon as that thought entered his mind, the studded freaky student and the tall red head stumbled in front of the door and blocked his exit, which rather cut his options.
"Do you need some help with that trolley, Deep?" He asked, coming round to the idea of safety in numbers.
"What are we going to do, Sully?" Mandeep feigned smashing the trolley into the diners, but none of them were put off at the prospect of broken shins.
The boy racer had eaten only a few mouthfuls yet seemed particularly keen on having a piece of Mandeep. As Mandeep smashed the trolley hard into him, he felt the shock reverberate up his arms and was sure he'd shattered the boy racer’s lower leg but he just kept coming.
Suleman looked again to the front door - Still blocked. He could go through the back door but it didn't lead anywhere other than to the shed, so he would be trapped anyway. Even if he left Mandeep to deal with these freaks and attempted an escape via the shed roof, through the river and into the supermarket carpark, he’d still have to return to the restaurant if he discovered he didn't in fact possess the physical capability to make it over the wall, which he knew would be the most likely scenario. Even if he grabbed the meat cleaver on the way back in, he doubted he could take all six and possibly a seventh down, if Mandeep had changed into one of them by then.
The bodybuilder turned out to be cleverer than he looked and tried to outflank Suleman and Mandeep by angling round the side. They’d have to act fast to avoid being surrounded. The long haired brunette with sharp nails was now making ground round the other side, although she was having difficulty walking in high heels.
&nbs
p; "Up the stairs, Deep, to the toilets.” Suleman ordered.
Mandeep shoved the trolley into the pack, which did little more than slow them down. They ran up the stairs and stood at the top.
"Well now we're trapped, Sully, I hope you have a plan."
"I'll think of something." He watched them as they tripped up the bottom step.
They were surprisingly orderly, walking in a line, not trying to shove past each other, it was civil, except for the silly noises they were making. The bodybuilder made the lowest pitched grunt and it was he who was closest to Suleman and Mandeep.
"Ok, to the toilet." They rushed inside and shut the door.
And waited.
"How long will this take?" Mandeep asked.
"How the fuck should I know? It's not like this has happened before."
"Well actually it has.” Mandeep said straight faced.
More waiting.
Wow, they were slow.
"We hold this door, no matter what, ok.” Suleman ordered.
Then they felt the force of six zombies pressing as one against the door.
They folded immediately.
Moaning resonated and echoed within the confines of the small, cramped toilet.
Suleman ran to the stall. He hoped to lock the door before Mandeep could get in, but unfortunately Mandeep was already inside when he shut the door and applied the lock.
"At least we're safe in here, Sully." The simpleton said with a smile.
"True, Deep, true. But what the fuck will we do now?"
The freaks banged on the door, the noise would soon give Suleman a headache.
How had things become this bad? He never envisioned he'd end his life crammed in a toilet stall with his idiot nephew. A small pool of drool formed on the floor and ran inside the stall. "I thought you cleaned the toilet?" Suleman asked after glancing over the contents of the bowl.
Mandeep sucked in air. “I planned on doing it, Sully. It's just that I never expected we'd both end up cowering in here, did I?"
Suleman cursed his nephew and felt the thirst already rasping in his throat. "Deep, is that a kidney in there?" Suleman flushed the chain, alas that failed to relieve the blockage.
There’d been something Mandeep wanted to say and was debating whether or not to say it. Finally he plucked up the courage. "I bet you wish you’d gotten some help now, Sully?"
Suleman had a moment of clarity and exhaled a deep breath. "Ok, Deep, you win. Give me your phone, I'll call the police."
"I'm glad you're finally seeing sense, Sully."
Suleman took the phone. There was no signal. They looked at each other. "Fucking lead roof!"
Dedicated to Hulk Hogan - My hero. Finally, you’re a character in a zombie story.
1
In My Pit
Oh man, was I ever thirsty.
I could not remember a time in my life when my mouth was this dry.
Surely it wouldn’t be long now until my inevitable death and probable rebirth.
It hurt to swallow and a thick buildup of phlegm coated the roof of my mouth. Ordinarily I’d hock the phlegm against the wall but if I did that I’d lose valuable fluids - That’s how desperate I was.
I had no idea how long I’d be stuck down here in this hole. Doubtless my internal organs were drying out, my blood was thickening and soon, no doubt the hallucinations would come. I swallowed the thick gooey fluid which crawled down my gullet, tickling my insides.
For two days I’d been imprisoned in this pit. Mercifully, I had more than enough room to stand and stretch. Reaching up and grabbing the wooden shutter, I could shake it and hear the lock clanging against the bracket. Doing so let in slits of light that stung my eyes.
There were moments during the long silences that a similar clanging resonated from the distance. Or perhaps it was close? There was no way of telling but it made me wonder if there were others like me, stuck down in a dark pit with no food or water.
One thing that ran through my head over and over was – Why me?
Seriously - Why the fuck was I stuck down in this hole, all alone when the entire world had gone to shit? Why was I spared? It made no sense. Were they really the stereotypical z’s from Hollywood? I saw them with my own eyes ripping into my colleagues.
That was right before I did what I did. Then – I heard it all. I heard it from my sanctuary. The cries and screams of my former friends. Well, let’s call them co-workers shall we.
Maybe that’s why I’m being spared? I’m being punished for my cowardice. I’d always been a god damn coward, but what I did really took the cake, cookie and biscuit factory all in one.
I deserve to be in this stinking hole. I deserve to die a painful death from dehydration.
Man, was I ever thirsty.
The medieval looking shit pan stared at me from the corner. The one thing that made us humans stand out from those z’s, apart from the rotting flesh, was the fact we could forward plan. For whatever reason, z’s were just unable to do that. If they saw a human, they had to have it, they had to eat it, right there, right then. Did the dumb stupid bastards never stop to wonder what would happen once they’d devoured the entire human population? Forward planning – One thing that separates us.
I squinted again at the shit pan and braced myself for the inevitable.
I had thought ahead. Right from the moment they threw me down here, I had no idea for how long I’d be made to stay, or when they’d bring food and water. There’s the old saying, “Never shit where you eat.” Only this time, it was, “Never shit where you piss.”
The pan was almost full. The thick brown liquid steamed in the cold of my underground dungeon. At the other side of the pit, I’d covered up my dumps using my work blazer – I figured it wouldn’t be needed no longer.
Forward planning.
And there was my pan, the liquid, my urine - Oh Christ.
Man was I ever thirsty.
I’d held out two days already and the time was fast approaching when I’d have no choice other than to save my life – Or prolong the misery. Just think of it as beer. Heck, it even looked like beer, even if several flies whirred around it. Hey – A man had to do what a man had to do and survival was the most basic of human instincts, so you’d have to be one mean son of a bitch to judge me harshly for considering this.
“Pedro is that you?” He wore his stupid chef’s hat and smiled. “Where’s my hundred bucks you cheap fuck?” Why did he ignore me, nobody ever showed me respect at work. “Don’t laugh. You owe me mother fucker!”
My legs gave way, the floor was hard and cold. But I was back at work. Back at the Hollywood Studio Bar & Grill.
“Can I get the oysters in a half-shell followed by the fettuccini Alfredo.” The stick looking regular said, while maintaining eye contact with whom I always assumed to be his male partner. “So I was doing Meryl’s makeup earlier and she asked if I could be on hand to make her look fabulous for Julia’s birthday party. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but she knows she can trust me to keep quiet.”
“And for you sir?” I looked to the other stick looking regular, his face covered in tan, eyebrows plucked to a fine precision.
“Get me the broiled lobster tail.” He shot a quick glance in my direction, like I’d interrupted their special moment. “Oh I do envy you, it can be soul destroying sitting in Starbucks, reading scripts all day.”
“Would you like a starter with that, sir?”
He looked up from his seat. “Are you stupid or something? We always share the oysters.”
“My mistake, sir. Of course you do.” It was obvious to me the oysters, as well as the main course would most likely end up being hurled down the toilet given how they both looked. I half-turned toward the kitchen to pass the order to Pedro.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
I turned back. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Was that some kind of homophobic retort?”
“I…”
“Because you kno
w what happens to homophobes in Hollywood.”
“Career suicide, sir.” Which was fine by me since I’d pretty much already given up hope of making it big in this town anyway. But there was no way I wanted to risk my shitty little job waiting tables to pathetic little runts like these. In the current economic climate, I’d most likely have to return to Massachusetts and there was no way I needed to risk that. It wasn’t just these little runts who were pathetic. I thought myself the far bigger loser for putting up with this bullshit, day-in-day-out. But I knew from past experience that these two creatures tipped pretty good – So I’d put up with most shit they threw my way. “Gentlemen, I do apologize if there’s been any misunderstanding. Your meal is on its way.”
I made my way through the restaurant toward the kitchen. Wednesday nights were always busy and the place buzzed from the pretentious rantings from employees of ‘the business.’ The Hollywood Studio Bar & Grill wasn’t the kind of place the movie stars would frequent, just their underlings who loved to believe they were important.
“You couldn’t step aside? I have an order for Pedro.”
Miguel, the Head Waiter lingered in the kitchen threshold, looming above and blocking the entrance. “He still out back ese. Went for smoke.”
“Still?” That was a surprise. “He’d better get moving, else there’ll be a backlog.” I’d need to remember to get my hundred bucks back – If I wanted to make rent this month.
“Them be the gay twins over there?”
“Huh? Oh right, yes.”
“Tell you what Homes – Why don’t you let me handle their order tonight.”
“What? Fuck you man!” The gay twins may have been annoying as hell, but their tipping was legendary, like they wanted us to believe they were some Hollywood big shots.
“I’ll take this.” Miguel plucked the order pad from my cold grasp and turned toward the kitchen.
Zombie Revolution Page 36