by Gayle Katz
zzz
Someone had locked the bathroom door on the opposite side so that Charlie couldn’t get out. She’d been locked in with Tara, who had been unconscious on the ground, her head propped up against the toilet.
Charlie pulled out a small plastic box. “I guess this is where my lock-picking knowledge will come in handy.” She pulled out what appeared to be a plastic credit card. She slipped it into the small crack between the door and the doorjamb, and then slowly pulled it down. It was enough to catch on the latch and push it open. It clicked. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then put the card away in her kit.
“Don’t worry, Tara. We’ll soon have you out of here.” She turned to look at her. “Tara? Tara!” Charlie looked at Tara in horror. Her eyes were glowing green. Her lips were pulled back in a grimace, exposing some rather sharp canine teeth. The young woman reached her arms forward, slowly standing up.
zzz
“Hey, Charlie. Where are you?” Gran texted. “There is a, err, raccoon situation out here.” She turned and looked behind her. There was a zombie staring at her, arms held high in the air.
She peered around, but couldn’t see anyone watching her. She raised the garden shears in her right hand. Her arm glided smoothly through the air. The sharp end of the shears pierced its ear, sliding through its skull and into the brain. The shears connected with the brain, severing whatever connection kept the zombie alive. Gran let the shears go. The zombie slid to the ground.
She quickly looked around again, and then went to retrieve her shears. “Can’t let these be tossed away.”
Once she had the shears out, cleaned under the garden faucet and dried, she turned her efforts to disposing of the body.
“OK, it’s been some time since I’ve done this.” She looked around for the large garbage bags, and then eyed her neighbor’s trash can across the alley. “I never liked them anyway.”
zzz
“Darn it, Charlie. Where are you?” Usually she was much better at answering texts, but he expected that she was doing whatever teens did on Friday nights. And then he remembered. She was supposed to be working at the locksmith’s shop tonight.
He pulled out his smartphone and did a search for the phone number. “Bingo!” He entered the number into his phone and waited patiently for someone to answer. “Hello? This is Charlie’s uncle. Can I speak to her please?”
“Oh. Sorry, but she’s not in tonight.”
“Not in? I thought she worked there on Friday nights.”
“Oh, not tonight. She’s not scheduled.” The man on the other end of the phone hung up.
“That doesn’t sound right,” said Stewart, getting a bad feeling. He looked sadly at his TV, but decided to do the right thing. The book had said part of a mentor’s job was to watch over the zlayer, making sure they checked in and out on a regular basis. He sighed and grabbed his jacket.
Right before he left, he glanced back at his desk. He walked over to it and grabbed one of the daggers from the box that had mysteriously reappeared.
Then he smiled. “It let me pick it up!” He smiled in glee. This was one of the magical daggers meant to kill a zleader. Then he ran over to the spell book.
It was already on the right page. “Intero magorum embuser morte.”
He had no idea what he had just said, but he didn’t have much time as he quickly headed out.
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“Tara? Are you all right?” called out Charlie. It was one thing when there were strange zombies, but another when one of your colleagues was now a zombie. She didn’t have to kill her, did she?
Charlie opened the door of the bathroom and stepped out.
“Just one minute, young lady,” said a man, trying to shove her back into the bathroom. “It’s by my will that you are bitten and that you join my gang.”
“What the hell? What gang?” said Charlie, fighting him off.
“My zombie gang,” he replied.
Charlie punched him in the face. A small shiny object popped out of his left eye and caught on his collar. His eye now glowed green.
“You’re a zombie!” she cried, kicking forward with her knee.
“Oof!” he cried, hunching down and clutching his genitals.
“Sorry to do this to you,” said Charlie, raising her dagger and stabbing Tara through the eye. Her body dropped to the ground.
Charlie raised her dagger to jam it into Mr. Wager’s head, but nothing happened.
“Crap,” she said, pulling it back out again.
Mr. Wager clutched his skull. “That won’t kill me!” he cried, rushing forward to bite her.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, running away from him. She raced down the hall to the front of the store. She had no idea why the dagger hadn’t killed Mr. Wager. That would have taken down the average zombie, or the average person for that matter.
“Charlie!” called out Stewart from the front of the store. “Thank god you’re OK!”
“Sort of,” she said, anxiously peering back over her shoulder. “There is a zombie back there that just won’t die.”
Stewart looked behind her. “That’s because that is what we call a zleader. They are much harder to kill.”
“Well, isn’t that just great,” she said, trying to catch her breath. She just wanted to leave, but that wasn’t her job. Her job as zlayer was to stay and kill all the zombies.
“I have the solution for that,” said Stewart, whipping out the special dagger.
She batted his arm away. “I already have one of those!”
He laughed. “No, this is a special dagger, imbued with special zombie spells to kill the zleader.”
“Zleader? What the hell is that?” she asked, taking the special dagger from him and putting the other one in her back pocket.
“Well, for any zombie infestation, there is always the source. That would be the zleader, the first zombie to a city, who goes around biting others and infecting them with the zombie virus.”
“Wait a minute, I thought the purpose of a zombie was to eat humans?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. But they also have an agenda to create a gang and create more zombies. That’s why it’s imperative that we kill the zleader.”
“What does imperative mean?” asked Charlie.
“It means important, required,” he was about to go on, but then heard her laugh and realized she was joking.
“But if we kill the zleader, won’t the other zombies still be running around?”
He shook his head. “No, it will kill them all. Look out!” he cried.
While they had been talking, Mr. Wager had crept up behind them.
Charlie kicked out, but he wasn’t going to be tricked a second time. He quickly fell back.
“You should join with me,” he said, his voice becoming raspier by the second. “Together, we can rule Dallas. We can be the richest and most powerful of them all. Tired of politicians? We can eat them all!”
“Hmm, that is rather tempting. Isn’t it, Stewart?” said Charlie, seriously considering the offer.
“What the hell?” cried Stewart, but then caught her wink. “Err, well, hmm. I mean, I like part of that idea. What else is in it for us?”
Mr. Wager managed to pull himself up to a standing position. “Oh, lotsssss,” he replied. “A seat on my counzil. Your own zinions to control. A mansion, if you want. We could clear out part of the city for you.”
“Sounds great,” said Charlie, keeping her dagger hidden behind her back. She had a fake smile on her face.
“Uh-huh,” said Stewart, trying to smile. “I’ve never lived in a house. Not on my teacher salary.”
“That can change. You can be paid a million a day, just to teach the zinions,” said Mr. Wager.
Charlie and Stewart looked at each other and did a silent laugh.
“Why don’t you sit down and tell us more about it?” Stewart asked, grabbing the chair from the reception area and plunking it down in front of Mr. Wager.
Mr. Wager wari
ly eyed it, and then shrugged. “You can’t kill me, so why not?” he said down.
Charlie and Stewart grabbed their own chairs and sat down.
“So, do we have to be bitten to join your team?” asked Charlie, curious about the process.
“Yep, that’s how it works. However, not everyone I bite turns into a zombie.”
“No?” asked Stewart.
He shook his head. “No, some outright die. You know what that means?”
Charlie and Stewart looked at each other and shrugged.
“It means that only the worthy are turned into zombies.”
“How odd,” said Stewart. “But every body is unique and reacts to outside stimuli differently.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Wager. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s a virus or a bacteria, hell, could even be a fungus for all I know.” He stopped. “Um, what were we talking about?”
“We were talking about how you were going to help us,” said Stewart.
“Oh right,” said Mr. Wager, looking confused.
“You’re going to help us to gather all the zombies together,” said Charlie. “For a big party.”
Mr. Wager smiled at them. “I knew you would be on my team!”
Chapter 10
________________________________________
Mr. Wager had pulled out his cell phone. Stewart was frowning at Charlie and making hand motions that said, “What are you doing?”
Charlie just looked back at him and shrugged.
“Yeah, everyone,” said Mr. Wager over the phone. He tossed his phone in his shirt pocket. “OK, the team is on the way.”
“And how many is that?” asked Stewart uneasily from his seat.
“Four.”
Charlie smirked and tried to remain silent, but she couldn’t. “Four? You have four in your zombie gang?”
“Hey, you try infecting people. It’s a lot more difficult than you expect. People won’t stay still.”
“I hope this won’t take long,” said Charlie. “Gran is going to be expecting me back at home in about twenty.” She checked her watch.
Mr. Wager turned and looked at her. “After this is done, you won’t have to worry about being on time. You can simply bite her and she can join our team.”
“Ha-ha, great,” she replied nervously.
Stewart walked over to the window and peered out. “I think they’re here. Three of them.”
Mr. Wager stomped over. “Three? Oh right, Tara was the fourth.” He turned and glared at Charlie.
She shrugged.
He didn’t notice when Stewart motioned toward the zombie’s head and made stabbing motions.
Charlie smiled in understanding.
The three zombies entered the shop. One of them dragged their feet.
“Come on, come on,” said Mr. Wager. “Don’t have all day.”
“Um, we should have the meeting down the hall,” said Charlie, standing up. “Not near the windows where anyone can see.”
“Oh right,” said Mr. Wager. “Please, follow after her.”
The two fastest moving zombies followed after Charlie.
Stewart stayed behind and ensured that the door to the shop was closed and locked. He looked up briefly when he thought he heard a thudding sound coming from the back. He quickly glanced at the zleader, but he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Then Charlie came out of the room and did two thumbs up.
Stewart smiled and nodded.
“C’mon,” said Mr. Wager, grabbing onto the stumbling zombie and guiding him down the hall to the back.
Stewart didn’t even bother following. He started looking around the office. He saw a garbage bag in a bin and pulled it out.
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Charlie quickly hid the two zombie bodies behind some large cardboard boxes. So far, the zleader hadn’t noticed what she had done.
The zombie and the zleader entered the small storage room.
“Hey, can I try my dagger again? I think it’s cool how I can’t kill you,” said Charlie.
“Sure!” said Mr. Wager. “You can show this goon how it works and how he should be avoiding any and all sharp objects.”
Charlie smiled and walked forward.
“Hey! Who are all these people?” called out Stewart from the front of the shop.
“Them? Oh, those are the rest of my zinions.”
“What?” asked Charlie. “I thought you said that there were only four zombies in your gang.”
Mr. Wager chuckled, causing a chunk of his scalp to peel off. He patted it back down. “I think I meant four, fourteen, forty, whatever.”
“Charlie! Act now!” yelled out Stewart.
“OK!” She whipped her dagger out from behind her back and thrust it into the zleader’s skull.
“Hey! What’s going on?” he cried out.
At first Charlie thought she’d used the wrong dagger. Then she looked more closely at the dagger in her hand. Yes, this was the special one meant to kill the zleader.
“Ahhh!” screamed the zleader. “You tricked me!”
“And so I did,” said Charlie, proudly.
Mr. Wager dropped to the ground. His body spasmed for a minute, until finally, he was dead.
“Charlie!” called out Stewart from the front of the shop. “What are we going to do with all these zombies?”
Charlie jumped over Mr. Wager’s dead body and ran down the hall to the front of the shop. “Oh, they’re all dead!”
Stewart peered out the window. “I know they’re all dead! As soon as you killed the zleader, they all dropped dead on the spot.”
“What’s the problem?” she shrugged, cleaning off the dagger on a piece of tissue, before placing it back in her pocket.
“What’s the problem?” Stewart repeated as he paced back and forth. “The problem is that we’ve got all these dead zombies out here!”
“Oh, right,” said Charlie. “We can toss them into the dumpster behind the store.”
Stewart frowned. “I guess so.”
“Hey! Look!” called out Charlie, pointing outside.
As they watched, the zombies started disintegrating into thin air.
“What is happening?” asked Stewart.
“Creepy,” said Charlie.
“This must be part of the zleader’s powers or something. Charlie, go to the back and see if the zleader has disappeared too.”
Charlie raced down the hallway. She just caught the last few moments before Mr. Wager’s body fully disintegrated into dust. “Same here!”
Stewart came down the hall after her. “This is a relief.”
“Yes, no cleanup.” Charlie walked across to the bathroom. “Even Tara’s body is gone. I didn’t know zombiosis worked like this.”
“Well, I’m guessing that it was magic that held their bodies together into a basic human shape. Over time some of it would degrade, hence the peeled skin, exposed bones, and bulbous eyes. But once the spell lifted, the body would fall apart.”
“Cool,” said Charlie, impressed.
“However, this leaves one problem,” said Stewart.
Charlie looked up at him.
“The missing people. Someone is going to be looking for them.” Stewart had a look around. “Is there a camera in here?”
“Yeah, but I can disable it,” said Charlie. “I think we only need to worry about Tara and Mr. Wager. I don’t think those zombies would have told anyone where they were heading to.”
“No, but chances are that someone saw them headed this way.”
Charlie was on the computer, taking care of the video footage. “I’ll just replace the camera backup with a blank drive, and take this one with me.” She removed the device from the unit and popped it into her backpack.
“Good,” said Stewart. “So, I’m counting on the police not paying attention to someone who mentions that there were forty zombies walking down the street.”
Charlie laughed. “Maybe it was a fan expo or something.”
“OK, I�
�ll have a look around and take care of anything out of the ordinary. You clean up the mess in the bathroom.”
“Got it.” Charlie headed to the bathroom, but there was nothing unusual remaining. She was about to mop up a few drops of Tara’s blood when Stewart came by and held up his hand.
“Let’s leave that. I have an idea.”
“Um, OK,” said Charlie.
Soon the two had the shop cleaned up. There was no sign that there had been zombies there, except for the small amount of blood left on the wall in the bathroom.
“Did Mr. Wager drive a car?”
Charlie nodded. “Those are his keys right there.”
“OK, let’s lock up. If anyone asks tomorrow, you had a regular shift. You didn’t see anyone or anything.”
“Got it,” she replied. “Normal shift. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get rid of Mr. Wager’s car.” He held up the keys “Do you know which one it is?”
“That white thing there,” she said, pointing to the front.
“Good. Are the cameras still disabled?”
“Yep,” she said. “Apparently the old drive doesn’t work anymore. I’d mentioned it to Mr. Wager, but he was cheap and didn’t want to order a new one.”
“Good story,” said Stewart. “We’ll talk on the phone tomorrow afternoon.”
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“Hi, Charlie. You’re up late tonight,” said Gran, finishing up in the kitchen.
“Yep, had some extra stuff to deal with at the locksmith’s,” she replied.
“Right. I heard there were some zombies on the loose,” said Gran.
“Oh, Gran. Zombies aren’t real.” Charlie dropped her bag down on the ground.
“Right. Good one, dear,” said Gran, chuckling. She went over to sit down on the couch. “I think it’s time I told you something.”