Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (11 page)

“Are you listening to me?” Drag was flapping his little wings in front of Barth’s face. “I said maybe we should just leave them all as zombies.”

Barth blinked once and looked at Drag. He’d been so obsessed with dressing up his little dragon, he’d almost forgotten the entire town was under a zombie curse.

He nodded toward the prince. “There’s enough of him to feed an entire kingdom. Maybe if we let them eat him, they’d ingest the potion and the zombie curse will be lifted.”

“No, I beg you!” The prince flailed his hands and feet while rolling around on his flabby back. He looked like a possessed hot air balloon. “Don’t let them eat me!”

“Wait!” Barth held up a hand. “What if we got him to pee in the lake?”

Drag scrunched his little brows while flying circles around the prince’s body. “And then somehow get the zombies to all go swimming?”

“Yes!” Barth eagerly nodded. “It will be just like before when they turned into zombies, only this time when they go into the lake, they’ll turn back to normal.”

“That won’t work,” the prince groaned. “I emptied my bladder before I left the house.”

“That was smart of you,” Barth said. “Most kids wait until they’ve been in the car for fifteen minutes before they realize they have to go.”

“Barth.” Drag shook his little head. “Would you listen to yourself?”

“Wait a minute.” Barth’s eyes lit up. “I still have Heather’s wand!”

“You do?” Drag squeaked.

Barth reached into his pocket and pulled out the phallic object. “Bubble, bubble, foam and brew. First there’s one, now there’s two.”

He pointed the wand at a large, flat rock, conveniently located right next to the prince’s head. Two mugs of ale appeared on top of the rock.

Barth grabbed one of the mugs and leaned over the prince.

“Wait! What are you doing?” the prince cried.

“Bottom’s up, Penis Prince.” Barth pulled down on a flabby lip and poured the liquid into the prince’s mouth.

The prince flailed his arms around as a grotesque gurgling sound came from his mouth. “Gross! That ale tastes flat. Please don’t make me drink again. My bladder already hurts with all this flab weighing it down.”

Barth ignored the prince’s pleas as he swatted Drag away from the other mug of ale. “Hey! No, no, little dragon. These beers are not for you.”

“Just a few sips,” Drag squealed as he fluttered around the mug. Finally, he hovered away. “Just wait until I’m big again.”

Barth shook his head at Drag and turned back to the prince. “You’ve got to drink at least three more. I need to make sure enough of that potion makes it back into the lake.”

After forcing the prince to drink four mugs, plus two more for good measure, Barth decided it was time to put his plan in action.

Drag sat on the stone and scowled at the prince. “Okay, how do you roll his fat ass into the water? You can’t get me to do it. I’m as big as a Pomeranian.”

Barth scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s going to make things difficult.”

Drag’s eyes widened as he looked over Barth’s shoulder. He squeaked and flew off the rock. “It’s a zombie!”

Two huge glowing eyes appeared from within the forest shadows.

Barth let out a low whistle. “That’s a big-ass zombie!”

He unsheathed his sword and braced for an attack.

“Flee for your lives!” Drag screeched.

“Please don’t let him eat me!” the prince cried.

Barth relaxed his shoulders as the huge, menacing beast slowly came into full view holding a lit joint in one paw and a pulled pork sandwich in the other. “Oh, it’s just you, Big Bad Wolf.”

The wolf sat up on his haunches and whimpered. “You dudes aren’t zombies, yet, right?”

Barth shook his head. “No, we’re not. Are you?”

“No.” The wolf scarfed down the remainder of his sandwich in one bite and then his predatory gaze traveled the length of the prince’s bloated body. “Do you need some help?”

“That would be great.” Barth thumbed toward the prince. “Help me roll his fat ass into the lake.”

* * *

Barth and the wolf panted while wiping beads of sweat from their brows. The bloated prince cried and shrieked while bobbling in the water like an inflatable raft—a really fat inflatable raft.

“Now how do we convince the zombies to follow us here?” Barth wondered.

“We need to bait them in,” the wolf suggested between gasps.

Drag, who’d been laying out on a rock and licking his paws, arched back his neck. “Don’t look at me. I’m too small to make a satisfying meal.”

“No, Drag.” Barth grimaced. “You’ll be safer with the wizard. I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. Besides, maybe he can find a way to cure you.”

Barth swallowed a lump in his throat—not a large moth or wad of mucus, but a lump of fear. He knew he’d have to be the one to lead the zombies toward the lake. And he’d have to do it all without his best friend by his side.

Sure, killing a few dwarf and red-riding-hood zombies was easy, but he hadn’t had to go up against any troll or hairy monster zombies. He probably could have done so with a huge hulking dragon to cover his back.

But could he save the kingdom without Drag?

Barth set off with a heavy sinking in his gut. He only hoped he was man enough to save the kingdom from the curse of the fairytale zombies.

With Wolf keeping pace beside him, Barth walked toward Fairytale Kingdom with a heavy heart. After watching his best friend fly away toward the wizard’s tower, he’d been struck with a fear he’d never known. Fear for his friend. Drag had promised he would be careful, but he was so tiny. Barth gnawed on his lip as he thought about the perils of such a small dragon flying solo.

Gargoyles and winged horses drank out of Swans Lake. Would Drag’s little wings flap fast enough to outfly a zombie Pegasus?

And if Drag did make it, would Wizard be able to turn him back into a hulking, fire-breathing giant? Sure, it was much easier for Drag to accessorize in his small state, but he would tire of blowing little smoke rings and being teased by bigger monsters.

Barth supposed things could have gone worse for Drag. He could have been turned into a rat, like Heather. What would life be like for her if the wizard failed to fix her?

Rat Heather images flashed through Barth’s mind. Heather in a little cage with a spinny wheel. Heather eating rodent food. Heather mating with another rat and having a litter of little rat babies.

No, the wizard would cure Barth’s friends. And he had to do his part by reversing the zombie curse so that his friends weren’t eaten afterwards.

Barth stepped up his pace. As he neared the grassy knoll which led to the outskirts of the town, the distinct sounds of moaning intensified.

Nervous energy coursed through his veins. He was itching to cut off more zombie heads. He had to remind himself, though, that he was actually supposed to save the zombies so that he could turn them back to normal.

But, holy buckets, slaying zombies was so much fun—as long as they were around his size, slow and stupid.

“So, dude, what’s your plan?” Wolf asked.

“I dunno yet.” Barth rubbed his chin before adjusting his sword belt. The darned thing was always digging into his hip bones. “We need to find a way to lead the zombies to the lake.”

“That should be easy,” Wolf said. “We’re probably the only two non-zombies left in Fairytale Kingdom. They’ll follow us if they’re hungry.”

Barth grimaced as he tried his best to ignore the rumbling in his own stomach. He wondered if his favorite burger joint was still open, and if it was, if the zombies working there still knew how to fry hamburgers.

“I’m sure the zombies are hungry,” Barth said as he tried to ignore his own gnawing hunger pains.

They’d reached the base of a hill. Once they climbed to the top, they’d have a good view of the entire kingdom. Barth hoped the zombies hadn’t reduced it to a pile of rubble by now. But if the increasing volume of the moaning was any indication, the town was in pretty bad shape.

Beside him, Wolf whimpered.

He peered over at the wolf, whose ears were laid flat against his skull. His tail was dragging between his legs.

“What’s wrong?” Barth asked as he began the ascent up the hill. “Are you afraid?”

“No. I’m worried about Grandma,” Wolf whined.

“When did you last see her?”

“I’ve been hunkering down at her house since I left Drag’s den.” Wolf flashed a toothy grin. “Turns out she’s one of those end-of-the-world crazed rednecks and she’s got a whole cellar of weed, freeze-dried meals and bottled water.”

“I always thought those people were crazy,” Barth laughed. “Turns out they were right. So why aren’t you there now?”

“I promised her I’d find her granddaughter.” Wolf turned large brown pleading puppy-dog eyes to Barth. “Have you seen her? She was last seen wearing a red hooded cape.”

“Uhhhhh.” Barth scratched the back of his neck while averting his gaze. Inwardly, he was cringing as he recalled the image of Drag turning her into a pile of ashes. “I-I don’t recall.”

“Well, if you see her, don’t let her out of your sight, dude,” Wolf snarled. “She took off with all of Grandma’s retirement savings. So not cool.”

Barth gasped. “That little bitch.”

“Drug problem.” Wolf shrugged. “The heavy stuff. When she’s not shooting up, she’s whoring on the streets. Grandma would be better off without her.”

“Well, in that case, I
did
see her,” Barth said matter-of-factly. “She was a zombie. Drag toasted her.”

Wolf blew out a breath of air. “Most excellent, dude.” He held up a paw and gave Barth a high-five.

“What are you going to tell Grandma?” Barth asked as they both continued up the hill.

“I’ll make up some shit about a quest.” The wolf laughed. “Maybe she hooked up with a bunch of hobbits and had to go destroy a ring to save mankind. Sounds totally wicked, right?”

“I think that was in a book already.” Barth’s voice trailed off as his jaw went slack. They’d finally reached the top of Lookout Point. Barth stood there on the precipice of the biggest cluster-fuck he’d ever seen in his life.

“It’s cool, dude. Grandma doesn’t read. She’s a redneck, remember?”

Barth grabbed Wolf by the jowls and turned him to look toward the kingdom.

“Whoa!” the wolf whimpered before shielding his nose with a large paw.

The breeze shifted and Barth had to cover his nose, too. He nearly gagged on the foul stench of rotting fish wafting from the kingdom below. From his vantage point up on the hill, Barth could have pretended he was looking down at a colony of ants feasting off a dead insect.

But this wasn’t an ant colony—this was a horde of fairytale zombies, and they were all feasting on what appeared to be the zombiefied corpse of Nessie, the water monster.

She must have crawled out of Swans Lake in search of brains. Poor Nessie couldn’t breathe above water. Her bloated body lay on top of a row of cottages skirting the perimeter of the village. Swarms of what looked like large flies or maybe pixies buzzed around the body while zombies crawled over each other to suck the grey matter out of her skull. Those who couldn’t reach her head had ripped open her stomach. A steaming pile of at least a hundred mermaid corpses had spilled out of Nessie’s gut. Zombies were ripping into the heads of the lifeless fish.

A shudder wracked Barth’s body from the inside out. If he had any food in his stomach, he was certain he would have puked.

“That’s the grossest shit I’ve ever seen.” The wolf gaped at the monster. “What’s even more gross is that I can’t seem to look away.”

“Me neither.” Barth spoke with a hollow voice, as if it was someone else standing in his boots and watching this freaky, horrifying feast.

“Well, now what do we do?” Wolf asked. “I don’t think they’re gonna want to follow us when they got Nessie to chew on.”

Barth was too mesmerized by the zombie ant pile to speak, but his stomach answered with a loud growl.

“Is that your stomach?” Wolf asked.

Barth looked down at his midsection and patted his belly. It rumbled louder. He looked back at Wolf and frowned. “I haven’t eaten lunch.”

“Yeah, man, I got the munchies, too.” Wolf nodded toward the feasting horde. “These zombies will be busy for a while, anyway.”