Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  The second beast grabbed Ranger by the legs as the third jumped into the onetime sanctuary. The third had a sprint to it and avoided Ranger’s frantic swings. It wanted the kids. Young meat. The second held on, pulling Ranger closer, chomping at air or anything it could sink its bite. Another swing from Ranger’s club caught the second in the back of the head, spewing olive green ooze from its nostrils on his boots. The body slumped over the side of the truck and plunged on to the road below, next to the first.

  Two gone.

  As green liquid dripped from the club, Ranger considered he might not have time to save the kids. He shook the thought away, and raced to crack the third monster behind the head. But he was right. He couldn’t reach the kids in time and had left his weapon near where he had eaten his lunch.

  “Matty, shoot it!” Ranger screamed. “Shoot it!”

  The creature drooled approaching her. Its tongue moved back and forth in anticipation of its meal. A swift stroke of the ax landed under the creature’s jaw, piercing it, ripping it out of its socket. The creature stood there, dazed. With the jaw still stuck to the ax, Matty swung, delivering the final blow to the side of the head, crushing it, making the undead dead again.

  Three gone.

  When Ranger arrived, he chuckled. Then he said, “Why didn’t you use your gun?”

  “Never use a gun to do an ax’s job, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  They laughed only a short time. The murmurings drifted into the trailer.

  “What’s that?” Matty asked.

  “Probably, the wind.” Ranger said, then began walking to the other end of the trailer. “I’ll check it out.”

  Jon patted Matty on the back. “Boy, did you see what you did? You are one fierce demon-crusher. I’ll even bet that one day there’ll be baseball cards after you!”

  “Thanks.” Matty couldn’t help notice Ranger’s cautious walk to the end of the trailer with the bloody golf club in hand. “If anybody asks, tell them your sister did this.”

  “For sure!” He gave her two thumbs up. “Did you see how that jaw ripped right off?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes never left Ranger.

  In the meantime, Ranger poked his head from the trailer. The corpses he’d killed hadn’t left the road. That’s a good sign. The murmurings came from his left. Not a good sign. He slowly set his sights to his left. His nostrils flared at what he saw coming from the desert. A crowd of zombies, twenty-five to thirty strong. All heading toward the shoulder of the highway. All heading toward them.

  “What is it?” Matty asked, suddenly appearing.

  “We gotta go.” A quick pace overtook Ranger. He tossed the golf club, and moved two boxes of canned goods to the edge of the truck. “Take what you can. Jon, let’s go.”

  “What’s the matter?” Matty poked her head from the trailer. “Oh, God.”

  “C’mon guys. Move. Move, Move.” Ranger hopped to the ground, and carried the boxes across the highway to the back of his pickup. Matty and Jon followed. Matty threw the ax in the pickup. Jon leapt into the cab.

  Once they sat safe in the truck, Ranger patted his empty holster.

  “Let’s go!” Matty screamed and glanced over her shoulder.

  Ranger rolled his eyes and smacked the top of the steering wheel several times. The veins in his neck almost popped. When he was done with his little tantrum, he calmly said to the kids, “Wait here.”

  “Come back!” Matty shrilled.

  But Ranger had made up his mind. He’d forgotten his shotgun. He needed to get it back.

  With both her hands pressed against the window of the pickup truck, Matty screamed in silent horror for Ranger to come back.

  In a quick sprint, Ranger crossed the highway, jumped into the truck and retrieved his gun. Too late. Two eaters hopped in after him. A couple of others arrived at the opening of the trailer.

  Without delay, Ranger blasted a shell into the face of the first, plastering its teal brains all over the inside of the trailer. The second received a rifle butt to the stomach, and a knee to the head, throwing it backward to the ground. Ranger then crashed his boot into its skull, spraying mint jelly everywhere.

  Of the two remaining eaters, one jumped in, slower and heavier than the others, dangerous nonetheless. Two more arrived readying to scale the opening of the trailer. No way could Ranger get rid of all four of them at the same time. In a frantic push, he attempted to reload his gun with another shell. His hand slipped, and the ammo fell to the floor. He crouched for it, all the while staring at the foreboding beast lurching toward him. If he didn’t hurry, his ass would find itself as tenderized meat for a buffet.

  Then, in the fury of the moment, gun blasts pierced the heads of two of the undead climbing into the trailer. Their bodies dropped like loose teeth. The third dragged itself to the source of the blast—Matty. She held firm, cradling the smoking barrel in both hands. Back in the transport, Ranger’s reflexes snatched the fallen shell from the floor. At the same time, the hulking creature stood over him and swiped at his cap, causing Ranger to kick the monster in the leg. It teetered, fell on Ranger, and its mouth landed over the barrel of his gun.

  “You’re gonna love this.” Ranger smiled then blasted the giant eater’s head into asparagus-like pieces across the trailer’s ceiling.

  “Are you finished in there?” Matty shouted and pulled the trigger on her own little problem. The chewer crumpled on the spot.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” He rolled the body away, rose, and as he ran to the opening of the trailer, he reloaded his shotgun.

  By this time, a pile of bodies had accumulated at the foot of the truck. Additional creatures made their way from the desert, stepping over their fallen friends. The killer duo had a rhythm in place. What Ranger couldn’t kill, Matty would. And vice-versa. As Ranger hopped out of the trailer, Matty lent cover fire, dropping clips as they went.

  In a blaze, they raced to the pickup, dove into the cab and sped from the scene with a horde of zombies fading in the rearview mirror.

  “There.” Ranger tipped the bill of his cap. “Dinner and a show.”

  * * *

  For a long time, Randy sat in silence with his back against the side of the broken desk. Knowing he had a purpose filled and encouraged his spirit. The change didn’t affect him. He had to remain alive.

  In his moment of weakness though, a crack on the floor next to him twitched his ear. A quick glance over his shoulder landed into the cold eyes of one of the changed. A loud piercing scream emanated from his mouth as the creature lunged at him with both arms extended outward. His heart pounded scampering away from the approaching beast with the pasty, decomposing flesh and white eyes.

  Randy stopped his scream midway and dove behind the desk where the monster’s hands couldn’t reach. Thrashing about from all sides, it attempted to seize the boy in any way it could. He kept low, avoiding any of its advances from reaching him. But it had enough of the games. It clutched the desk securely in both hands, and threw it against the door, preventing his escape through the sally port from where he came. The boy sat exposed, trembling to the creature’s advances. It shrieked at the boy, showing its rotting teeth. I’m the boss.

  Randy scurried to his feet in horror, ducking the creature’s determined swipes from one side of the wall to the other. His attempt to fake a hop didn’t work. Closing in on him, the creature stepped into the splinters Randy had thrown on the floor earlier when he’d destroyed the backing from the desk. Hearing the crackling from under the creature’s feet lit Randy’s brain on fire. He would have to act fast if he didn’t want to end up as part of the creature’s main course for supper.

  When the malevolent creature stole a graze at the young man from its left, Randy bore to his right, ducking far from the creature in order to lure it to the center of the room. In the open, Randy kept coaxing it to him, always keeping arm’s length from it. Confidence lighting his eyes, Randy took a chance and smacked the creature on the face. Not
a good idea. The creature lunged at him, seizing him by the arm. This was not part of the plan. He attempted to shake the flesh-harvester off, but it tightened its grip. He pulled hard from death’s grasp. To no avail, its claws further sunk into his flesh, burning and torturing the boy. Screams of agony poured out of him as the creature heaved him closer for a taste. Just a small taste. That’s all it wanted from his young flesh.

  But then, in between the tugging and pulling, Randy’s free hand fell to the sharp pain coming from his back pocket. That’s when he remembered, and dug deep to find the weapon he needed to escape the evil clutches of the creature. With a swift swipe at the creature, Randy buried the pencil he had lifted from the observatory into its arm. It let go of him, sparking his quick getaway to the pile of splinters behind it.

  Ripping the pencil from its arm and throwing it to the floor, the creature spun around with fury in its bones. Randy was ready for it. He waited until it got closer, then plunged a nine-inch splinter into the creature’s rotting mouth. Its eyes almost bulged from its skull from the pain. It wouldn’t back down. As a final act, it took hold of the boy by the throat, squeezed hard and began choking him. He will never surrender. Randy secured his grip on the splinter with both hands, ripped the stake from the creature’s throat, and thrust upward into its jaw, piercing its brain. The evil crashed to the floor in quivers. A few moments later, it breathed its last.

  Panting hard, Randy collapsed on his back next to the body. He closed his eyes, and felt the fear leave. In its place his stomach settled and courage filled his heart. He turned his head and examined the cadaver with his weary eyes. Scanning the length of it, he noticed a wallet protruding from its suit breast pocket. He tugged at it, bringing the black billfold to his face. With one hand, he balanced it on his chest, not knowing what he’ll find.

  When he pulled out the driver’s license and gazed at the photo, he dropped his head to the floor in sadness. He wanted to be sure. So again he brought the license to his eyes and viewed the name on it. He was sure: Nathanael E. Davis.

  Randy had killed the warden.

  Chapter 5

  Rock County, Arizona—hell on earth. The arid air, the high temperatures. No one in their right mind would want to live among the vultures, cactus and continual sand storms. An unsuspecting visitor would fry in an instant.

  Close to dusk in the distance, vapors swelled and a dark angel ascended from the highway. It looked like a dark angel. The desert plays tricks. Ranger’s tarnished pickup drew oxygen as it sped, blowing dust, and flying off County Road 3497, ten miles north from I-15, into the desert.

  “Where are you going?” Matty asked.

  “You’ll see.” Ranger answered, adding a smile after his words.

  Dirt clouds followed the truck as it trotted to its final destination. Matty had had enough of monstrous creature encounters to last from her generation to the next. Her head leaned against the passenger seat window in exhaustion. She needed sleep and needed it bad. Wiping her forehead of the sweat, she reached for a half-filled water bottle in her backpack, leftover from the gas station earlier in the morning. Jon’s faint eyes wandered a quarter mile to what looked like a shelter of some sort, fenced around, barbed wire at the top, and one entrance for access. Matty saw it too and wondered who could have built it in such a desolate place.

  Rolling the pickup to the access panel, Ranger pressed the red button and waited for a response from the adjacent speaker.

  “C’mon?” the voice prompted.

  “It’s me.”

  “And who are you?”

  “Who else do you think it is?” Ranger closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “I know you can see me.”

  Located above the entrance on the other side of the fence, the security camera twisted and focused on Ranger’s face then panned to the kids. It stopped on Matty.

  “I guess I can let you in. Who are the other two?”

  “I swear, if you don’t open this gate, I’ll tell those vermin sacks where you live!”

  “Okay, sheesh. Can’t take a joke?”

  A buzzer sounded on the gate, two red lights on both sides turned off and the entrance fence unlocked inward. Ranger pulled the vehicle into the secured area. Once inside, the gate behind locked and the red lights turned back on.

  The secondary entrance into the building buzzed. Rolling to one side, the heavy iron door gave the vehicle access to an elevator. Ranger drove in, shifted the truck to park, and relaxed in the bronze-lit chamber.

  “So what is this, the entrance to your Batcave?” Matty cracked.

  “Cool! Your Batcave!” Jon bounced in his seat.

  Ranger remained stone-faced. “I am not Batman. I’ve always had a liking for Spider-Man. Batman’s too dark for my taste.”

  “Sure. Beating the shit out of a zombie with a golf club is real Disney.” Matty rolled her eyes, then shook her head.

  Descending the shaft at a rapid pace, the elevator didn’t slow down. The last few feet it rotated the vehicle and came to rest at the bottom. The pickup pulled out backward in the underground complex, and stopped inches from two yellow and black-stripped metal posts.

  “What took you so long? I was gonna call the cops?” The seventeen-year-old boy blew past supply crates, skids and boxes to greet them. “Did you get it?”

  “I got it. Fertilizer packages, like you ordered.” Ranger answered.

  “Whoo-hoo! Oh, we’re gonna have fun now!”

  “And...” he pried open the hatch to the pickup and smacked the top of two boxes from Miller’s Foods transport. “We’ve got tuna and turkey.”

  “Wow.” The boy began to salivate on the spot. “I think I’m gonna die.”

  “Thanksgiving came early this year. C’mon and give me a hand.”

  When Matty and Jon popped from the cab, the boy didn’t pay much attention to anything else after that. Neither did Matty. Their eyes met and the boy’s feet wobbled. Ranger had to hand him the boxes himself.

  “Thanks.” The boy’s subdued response came.

  No fooling Ranger, he noticed the immediate connection with the two teenagers. “Matty, this is Wildside.”

  “Wildside?” Matty snapped out of her trance. “What is it with the names?”

  “I’ve never been much for Sam or John.” Wildside answered.

  “My brother’s name is Jon.”

  “That’s me.” Jon raised his hand.

  “Please to meet you both.”

  Never one for pleasantries, Ranger barked at Wildside, “You’re gonna stand there like a Billy goat chewing at the cud or are you gonna burn floor?”

  “I’m going, I’m going.”

  Jon ran to Ranger. “You’re a superhero, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I’m just a good ol’ country boy from Oklahoma.”

  * * *

  Into the evening, Randy traveled through the jail corridors, jostling doors, prying windows, and breaking into air ducts. But at every turn he met defeat. The doors had locks. The windows had bars. And he couldn’t fit into the air ducts. Every hour that went by, he had stopped, pulled out the warden’s letter from his front left pocket and read it to himself as if it had the power to keep him company. When he felt the encouragement bubble in his spirit, he continued his journey.

  He came upon a set of doors. They led to the common showers. In the corner of the room, away from the other stalls, a metal grate covered the floor. It had a hinge mechanism that locked when closed. He attempted to unlatch the grate with his hands but failed. The bolt had rust running through it making it difficult to open. Randy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He backed away and came at it with his heel. A few short spikes later, the latch broke. His stomach performed somersaults.

  When the grate groaned open, Randy clasped his nose with both hands and grimaced. He shut his eyes but didn’t throw up. A few deep inhales and exhales later, he stood inside the access pipe. Lit by a flickering light every ten feet, his determination to find a way o
ut of the cold jail walls moved him through the catacombs. Weary of what he may find, he snuck and stopped between lights. The lights ended at a fork in the tunnel. His head bounced left to right, unsure what to do. Then his gaze drifted upward to notice a pipe turning right. He chose right.

  He ambled against the walls. The darkness grew thicker. One step at a time, he made progress. One single step—he felt a crunch under his feet. Another step, it crackled. Crouching, he pulled a stick. At least that’s what he thought at first. The light had all but disappeared. He pressed forward with the stick in his right hand at the ready. His instincts tossed red flags everywhere. Go back, Randy. Go back. His next step didn’t take the dip in the tunnel into account. He lost his footing and slid into the dark abyss. Rolling and tossing from side to side, it ended once he crashed into a pit. A glow illuminated the pit from an adjacent passageway.

  When Randy regained his sight, staring at him with deep, hallow eyes lay a skull, smiling. He let off a silent scream and dragged his rear through the pit on his hands and feet. Everywhere he looked, he saw nothing but dry bones, eaten through the marrow. His back hit the wall in the corner of the pit. He drew his legs to his chest and held them with his arms. Cowering over the bones, he shook in fear. Panting hard, weak and destitute, every line in his face cried dread. Closing his eyes for a moment, he whispered. I don’t want to die. I don’t. I have to get out of here. Please help me. The sound of his sniffling carried through the room, alerting another entity of a foreign presence. The bones moved.

  Randy shot up in an instant with the driest, most serious face he could muster. The bones shifted again, freezing him into position. Trembling overcame him when the rib, leg and arm bones drifted in waves. He slowly strafed against the wall, not knowing what creature inhabited the pit. His change in direction prompted the wave to head his way. He might as well surrender. He had lost his mind anyway. And knowing he had humanity’s salvation on his shoulders capped off his glorious stay at Club Anorexia.

  From the depths, the entity slithered, scaled and slid across the bones in Randy’s direction. Growing up, he spent hours in the desert catching rodents. The occasional snake would slink about, but nothing too dangerous. He recognized it.