Monster Burger: A zombie horror comedy (24/7 Demon Mart)

by D. M. Guay

  “Do you feel sick? Did anyone bite or scratch you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Look.” She took me by the hand and led me to the counter. The cigarette carousels had been pushed aside to make room for a big clear glass dome. It looked like my Grandma's fancy cake stand. It even had a big, fluffy brown pancake inside.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Oh shit. That's no pancake. That was... “Kevin?”

  Kevin was super fat and super wide. His head bumped the glass, over and over, like he was trying to walk but kept forgetting there was a piece of glass in front of him. His black eyes had lost their shine. He stared at nothing, as if he was in some sort of trance. “What's wrong with him?”

  “He's one of them.” She pointed out the window. “Does this remind you of anything?”

  “Well, Big Dan dragged me to a hippy jam band show once. Everyone there was so high. Like soo soo high.”

  “Uh, I was thinking more like Sugar Hill.”

  “Is that, like, a resort or something?”

  “Isle of the Snake People?”

  “Oh, shit. Are these people really snakes?”

  “No. Look outside.” She huffed. “This is just like White Zombie.”

  “My dad has that CD.”

  “Oh my God.” She rubbed her eyes. “The movie. Seriously? Bela Lugosi? It's a classic. They're all movies. Zombie movies. Do you live under a rock? All these people have been turned into zombies!”

  Gulp. Zombies? I watched a few people shuffle past the front door. They walked like zombies. They moaned like zombies. But something didn't add up. They all looked, well, alive. Pink skin, clear eyes. I had seen real zombies up close. They had gray skin, milky white eyes, black teeth. They looked rotten. These guys on the street did not. “But they're alive.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but there's more than one kind of zombie. Dead ones and living ones. The living ones are turned into slaves using magic. Walking mindless slaves.”

  We both watched as more people stumbled across the lot, eyes wide and blank, lured to the glowing neon Monster Burger sign as if it were a beacon. Walking. Check. Mindless. Check. Slaves? Hmmm.

  “How could I have been so stupid? It's so obvious.” DeeDee paced. “It's just like the movies. People don't realize the zombie apocalypse has already started because they're too busy with their own problems. Someone turned people into zombies right next door, but we didn't notice because we were too busy with our own problems. The pixie infestation. The gate routing malfunction? Henrietta said someone bulldozed the pixie burrows. Doc and Steve say there's nothing physically wrong with the gate, yet we were knee deep in white goop and headless guys. Plus, the strippers stuck in the wall. We were sabotaged, Lloyd. Whoever turned these people into zombies deliberately kept us distracted so we wouldn't stop them.”

  “But Caroline couldn't...” That's all I could say, all right? Dude. This was a lot to take in. A. Lot. And I didn't have peak brain processing speed even on a good day.

  “No. She couldn't, but her mystery partner could. Monster Burger has zombies on staff. You have to be supernatural to get a zombie permit. I did a little digging into her partner. That shell company, HHNF? It's owned by an anonymous, private trust. Whoever runs it is virtually untraceable. You only do that if you're trying to hide something. And now we know what they're hiding.”

  Lighting flashed above Monster Burger as DeeDee said it, like a big, ominous electrical exclamation point. Of course. Because my life had turned into a bad horror movie.

  Angel eight ball rolled behind DeeDee. “At least your life isn't boring!”

  “We should call for help.”

  “I did,” she said. “No one's coming.”

  Uh oh. No help? Magic? Zombies? Woah boy. Room spinning.

  “I couldn't conjure Faust. At all. Steve didn't answer, thanks to Kevin. But don't worry. Doc and Henrietta are safe in their shops, working on it. They'll call if they come up with any ideas,” she said. “We don't know who did this or how or why. The good news is those people aren't after us, so we've got plenty of time to figure it all out. Here's the plan.”

  Cakunk cakunk heeerrrrf. Herrrrrrff. Herrrrrrrrrrrrp.

  Big Larry heaved like he was choking, opened wide, and spat a giant ball of slime on the floor. He shook his big melon head, thumped his leaves against the walls, and suddenly turned completely purple. Like, bright, technicolor, My Little Pony level purple. And even though he didn't have a face or eyes or eyebrows, I could tell he was freaked out and in pain.

  “You okay, buddy?”

  Thump. Thump. Thump. His leaves pounded the walls.

  “Oh no. Not now!” DeeDee, normally Ms. Cool Cucumber in a crisis, looked absolutely, completely and totally panicked. She grabbed my arm and squeezed, super tight. “Larry's in labor.”

  Great. Just great. There are magic hoodoo voodoo zombies roaming the streets, and we're supposed to switch into hell plant maternity ward mode? NOW? I have a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

  Crack! The lights flickered. That wasn't Larry. That was a bolt of lightning the size of Detroit striking Monster Burger. It lit up the neighborhood like it was noon, casting the whole block in an eerie green light.

  “Lloyd. Help me. We don't have much time.”

  You could say that again. She meant with Larry, but come on. We were in deep, on multiple levels. But then it hit me like a brick. We weren't the only ones in trouble. I turned to face the glowing neon bun outside. “Earl.”

  Chapter 18

  Earl picked up on the second ring. “Hey. It's Lloyd. From Dem—uh, Dairy Mart.”

  I tried really hard to sound casual. Really REALLY hard, because a large crowd had gathered around Monster Burger, a sea of bodies so thick you couldn't see the parking lot.

  “Who?”

  “Number seven combo, extra onions, extra salt, no mayo.”

  “Oh, hey. My main man! Whazzzup?”

  “Earl. Listen carefully. You're in danger. Get out of the restaurant now. Come over here. Come to Dairy Mart. Right now.”

  “Are you kidding? Look at that crowd. I can't leave, we're about to get slammed! I've got six fry baskets down, a dozen guys working double time on the grill, and the boss lady's here. I can't leave.”

  “Earl. Please. It's an emergency. Come to Demon Mart right now. I'll explain everything when you get here. We'll protect you.”

  “I hear you B-boy, but that's wack,” Earl said. “I gotta go. I'm 'bout to be slammin', and you know I'm 'bout to be jammin'. Hold up. What are you doing here? Back again, huh? You want some of this?”

  “EARL!” I screamed. “Get out of there. Now!”

  Clank ca-thunk.

  “Earl? Earl?”

  “Get off me. Gack!” His voice was far away. He must have dropped the phone. “Damn you, Ed McMahon. Stop stealing my lettuce. Get out of there. Stop! Stop it right now, you tiny bastard!”

  “Jesus, Earl. Forget about Ed...” McMahon? Stealing his lettuce? Tiny bastard? Oh my God. All the random pieces clicked together in my brain. The white hair. The big nose. The wrinkles? The belly? That old naked pixie looked just like Ed McMahon! Well, if he were naked and the size of a GI Joe, but still.

  Maybe Earl wasn't crazy. Maybe that Ed McMahon pixie actually did kill Mr. Jimmy. Something did buzz around him. A pixie could have knocked him off the ladder. “Earl. Ed McMahon DID kill Mr. Jimmy. Come over now and we can talk about it! Earl!”

  “You tiny bastard! Ha. Take that. Wait. Where do you think you're going? Leave that guy alone!” Earl yelled. “Buddy, Ed's on your shoulder. Grab him. Ope. You missed. Come back here! I'll get you! Do you hear me? I'll get you! Wow. Did you see that? Hey. Buddy? Are you all right? You look a little green. Why are you growling? You mad?”

  Lighting hit the restaurant, and the landline went dead. “EARL!”

  I dialed again, hand shaking so hard I could barely keep a grip on the phone.

  Beep beep beep. “The number you are trying to c
all is not in service.”

  Oh no. My stomach churned. I stared at the restaurant and tried to zone in on his brain waves. Run, Earl. Run! Get out of there. Please get out of there! I didn't know what else to do. It's not like I could run over and grab him. I'd never get through the crowd.

  “Mmmm. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuur,” Kevin swayed back and forth, staring through the glass, a prisoner in a dome.

  I felt a pang, an icy needle of fear, deep in my gut. What if we didn't figure it out? What if we couldn't save Earl. Or Kevin. Poor Kevin. I felt so bad for him, mindlessly bumping up against the glass. There was no sign of snark, no trace of the real Kevin. How did it come to this?

  He'd left a full bag of Monster Burger on the counter. Probably his dinner. I fished out a french fry, cracked the dome and slid it in there. It was the least I could do. Small joys, right?

  He immediately chomped down on my finger. Okay, he tried to. Thankfully roaches aren't known for their bite force. He stopped abruptly when he realized there was a fry in my hand. He crawled over and chomped down on that instead. I pulled my hand out and the dome clicked closed.

  “Is Earl on his way?” DeeDee stood in front of Larry, wearing thick red rubber gloves and safety goggles.

  “No. I don't think so.”

  She frowned, then motioned for me to join her. I did.

  “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

  “I'm fine.” I couldn't even fake smile. Earl was trapped. And Kevin...“What if?”

  “Stop right there. We do not go down the path of what if. We deal with one problem at a time, and we do the best we can with what we have, okay?” She put a rubber-gloved hand on my shoulder. “We will help Earl. We will help Kevin. But first, we have to help Larry. Fill this bucket with warm water. We're about to save an endangered species.”

  Okay, then. One thing at a time. I took a deep breath, and strangely I did feel a little better.

  She handed me a bucket and some rubber gloves and sent me on my way. There was a utility sink in the stockroom, right outside the employee lounge. I plopped the bucket in and turned on the water. A pixie chick fluttered up off the spigot. Ugh. Seriously? Now?

  She yelled at me in a teeny voice and shook her fists. She was soaking wet. She must have been under the tap when I turned it on.

  “Shoo!” I swatted her away. “I'm busy. Go on. Get out of here!”

  She tittered and gave me the stink eye as she flew away.

  “Blah. Blah. I've heard it all before!” I yelled after her.

  When the bucket was mostly full, I lifted it out of the sink. I'm a little ashamed to admit it took me a couple of tries. Ooooooof. Man. Why is water so heavy?

  “Go on, do a few curls with that bucket while you're at it. Girls like muscles.” Angel eight ball sat on a shrink-wrapped pallet of condoms.

  “I have muscles.”

  “Correction. Girls like visible muscles. Never mind. Watch out!”

  Something hit me hard right between the eyes. The bucket slipped out of my hand.

  Ploosh.

  The water spilled all over the floor. My feet when out from under me and smack. I landed flat on my back. Eowch.

  Apparently, I'd been punched between the eyebrows by a couple of angry pixies wielding a Coke can. A cloud of them hovered above me, led by the chick from the sink. She spit shouted words at me.

  “Uh. Okay?” I pretended to listen, but come on. Do you speak pixie? I sure as hell didn't.

  “I'm a little rusty, but she says you giant fat apes destroyed their village. They have a right to shelter and food. Don't be stingy. Yada yada. Oh, and you'll pay for what you've done.”

  “Why do I have to pay? I didn't do anything wrong!” Dude. They pooped all over the store and poked me in the eyes with spicy Bugles. I couldn't let them stay!

  They apparently thought otherwise. Because they dive bombed me, tearing at my hair and my shirt. I screamed and swatted and thwapped. “Jerks! How did they get back in here?”

  Angel flashed an arrow pointing up.

  There was a swirling green portal on the ceiling. A red demon hand poked out, warming himself by the heating vent. Kevin's dickhead roommate. Again. “Great. Just great.”

  A second later, the stupid naked jerks were all over my face. I swear I could feel a tiny butt hole on my nose. Again!

  “Lloyd! Hurry up. It's started!” DeeDee called out.

  Shoot. Gotta save Larry. I sat up, pixies clinging to my cheeks, and plucked them off one by one, losing a chunk of skin each time. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

  I hopped up and grabbed the bucket. The floor wasn't that slippery because my “If I'm not back in five minutes, wait longer” T-shirt had soaked up most of the water. So had my underpants. Man. There was no worse feeling in the world than wet underpants.

  The pixies didn't give up. They swooped at me, taking sucker punches as I made my way back to the sink. “Leave me alone!”

  You know what? I didn't need to put up with this. My face throbbed. My underpants were wet as a swamp. Desperate, I grabbed a can of Kill 'Em Dead off the to-be-stocked pile, popped the cap, and started spraying the little bastards.

  Psssssssssssssssssssss.

  “Put that down! Are you crazy? That isn't Pixie Rid. That's poison! Thou shalt not kill, remember?”

  “Shut up.” Stupid angel. “I'm not trying to kill them. I just want them off me.”

  And it worked. The pixies scattered. Sure, I felt bad. Even I was coughing and gagging in the noxious cloud of chemical poison, but pixies weren't bugs and I didn't spray it in their faces, so it wouldn't seriously hurt them, right? When they had all flown off, I refilled the bucket.

  “We need to talk,” said angel, who was somehow now balanced on the faucet.

  “How do you move around so fast?”

  “Listen. If you hadn't noticed already, pixies are vengeful jerks. For real. They aren't gonna let that poison thing go. You kicked this fight up another notch. Watch your back.”

  “Yeah yeah. Whatever.”

  Errp. Errp. Errp. Errp. Errp.

  Oh no. The yellow light outside the cooler began to flash.

  Cuhhhhhhhhhhhhr. The seal on the door released, and the eleven remaining zombies ambled slowly into the store.

  “Lloyd!” DeeDee screamed. “Get in here. Now!”

  Well, here goes nothing. I grabbed the bucket and waddled as fast as I could with it. The tiny pixie chick rose before me—eyes puffy and red from the bug spray—to squeak out what I could only guess was a threat.

  “I don't even know what you're saying.” I snipped.

  Angel eight ball rolled out from behind a stack of toilet paper. “Let me translate for you: You're screwed.”

  Chapter 19

  “Duck!” DeeDee tackled me the second I walked out. The bucket clanked to the floor and sploshed, but thankfully didn't fall over. But we sure did. We landed on the floor, in a huge puddle of sticky red goop. Which looked like it was bubbling out of Big Larry's stems. Nope. Don't tell me what it is. Just don't. I don't want to know.

  “Stay down.” DeeDee squeezed me tight. She was so warm and soft my downstairs tingled for a second. Ahem. But that moment of pure carnal joy was fleeting. A fat red thing that looked like a gigantic rubber band crossed right over us and hit the wall, crunching a fist-sized hole in the drywall. The hole sizzled and smoked.

  “What the hell is that?” I squeaked.

  “Acid whips. In the wild, they keep predators away while Larry's giving birth.”

  Fwap. Another one hit the ceiling, and bits of acoustic tile sprinkled down on us.

  “He has WHAT?” Holy shit. “Make him stop. We're not predators!”

  “He can't control it. It's instinct. Just don't get hit.”

  DeeDee rolled off of me. She took cover behind a row of giant plant pots and bags of potting mix she'd stacked like sandbags around the pyramid of Mountain Dew 2-Liters. The zombies worked in teams on each of the little Larries. One zombie would hold a little Larry head
, while the second plucked out his spiky ivory teeth, one by one. The Little Larries bucked and yelped.

  “Dude. Stop! Don't hurt them.”

  “We have to defang the babies before we transplant them, or they won't make roots!” DeeDee yelled. “Didn't you read the book?”

  “No. I didn't read the book. Duh!”

  “When all the babies are separated from the main stalk, the acid whips stop. Lloyd. Watch out! Behind you!”

  I curled up in full fetal position, expecting another acid whip to fwap, but that wasn't what DeeDee meant. An angry squadron of pixies swarmed around me, led by the faucet chick and a tiny, naked Ed McMahon.

  Great. Just great. Grandpa McMole was back. That murdering, lettuce-stealing prick.

  Thankfully, Larry's acid whips didn't discriminate. There had to be a dozen of them wiggling around smacking stuff. It only took one to break up the pissed-off pixie formation. I rolled out of the way, but the angry Ed McMahon didn't see it coming. With a thwack and a fwap, a handful of the pixies fell, injured and smoking, into the oozing sticky muck on the floor. The rest scattered.

  Unfortunately, after that whip waved around thunking pixies, it headed straight for me. I rolled out of the way just in time. And I kept right on rolling. If there was one benefit to being portly, it was that my body was essentially a big flubby tube. I could roll all day. I was made for it. Of course, the chip rack was in the way, so I only managed to roll nose deep into a bag of Mikesells. That was as far as I could go.

  I should have run, but I didn't know where to go. DeeDee's sandbag fort wasn't big enough for two. Larry's whips had spread across the ceiling. They fwapped and wiggled and thrashed in every corner. Let's be clear here: Larry's labor wasn't fun for anybody. His main head had swelled to the size of a gigantic pumpkin. And I'm not talking a rinky dink porch pumpkin, either. I'm talking one of those thousand pound prize winners from the Circleville Pumpkin show. Larry's lips pursed, teeth grinding, and he panted like he was doing some sort of herbaceous Lamaze.