Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (12 page)

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Ye Olde Market was having a Green Light Special on plague-infested rat chops and dried apple cores. This was precisely why Barth chose to avoid Ye Olde Market and shop at the Mega Super Value Medieval Mart. Sure, they were putting all of the little guys out of business, but they sold mint chocolate chip ice cream and packaged cookie wafers with creamy centers; not curdled cream and stale oatcakes.

But best of all, they had an entire aisle dedicated to dried Asian noodles.

“I can’t believe they raised the price of Top Ramen again.” Barth opened another bag and dumped the contents into his mouth. Sure, he would have preferred boiled noodles, but he was so hungry he couldn’t wait.

Wolf shrugged before ripping open a bag of chocolate-covered marshmallow puffs. “Does it really matter at this point?” He shoveled a huge pawful into his jowls.

Barth gasped. “Chocolate marshmallows! Where did you get those?”

The Wolf’s eyes widened as he raised a shaky claw. “Mmmm…whmout!”

Barth scrunched his brows. “What?”

“Mmmm…zmmie!” Wolf stomped his foot and pointed behind Barth’s head.

Barth spun around and jumped back just as a little zombie leprechaun lunged for his kneecaps. He unsheathed his sword, squatted down and lopped of the leprechaun’s head.

“This one must have lost his lucky charms,” Barth snickered as he stood and brushed dirt off his knees.

Wolf swallowed hard before coughing cookie residue into his fist. “Whoa, dude, that was close.”

A low, keening wail resounded from across the store.

Barth held a hand to his ear as he motioned for Wolf to be quiet. “Listen. Do you hear moaning?”

The moan repeated, this time followed by a few distinct swear words. Barth raised his sword and slowly made his way down the aisles, past the baked goods and paper towels and on to the pharmaceutical products.

Why were these zombies in the grocery store anyway when they should have been feasting on Nessie? Maybe they’d discovered that processed foods tasted so much better than brains.

The moaning grew louder as Barth approached the feminine products aisle.

Barth’s heart did a little flip, figuratively speaking, of course, as he recognized the pretty witch bent over on the floor. It looked as if several tampon boxes had exploded along the aisle. The place was littered with shredded feminine products of every size and scent.

“Damn store never carries super-absorbent,” she cried as she blew her nose into a jumbo winged maxi-pad.

Barth’s mouth fell open. “Heather?”

“What the fuck, Barth?” She turned, the rims of her eyes glowing red. “You scared me!”

At that moment, Barth should have heeded the visual cues, such as the way Heather groaned while holding her stomach or how she snarled at him like a rabid dog. But he was just so excited to see she was no longer a rodent. He pulled her off the floor and scooped her into a hug.

“You’re not a rat anymore!” he squealed. “This is awesome!”

“Don’t squeeze me so hard.” She struggled out of his grip. “I’m feeling bloated.”

Barth reluctantly set Heather down on her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed some supplies.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “What’s with all the questions?”

“You don’t seem well.” Barth took several steps back. He’d never seen Heather act like this, and he wondered if maybe it had anything to do with the tampons, PMS pills and chocolate bars that were scattered all over the aisle. Plus, she had a really big pimple on her chin, which, ironically, kinda looked like a witchy wart—only with an oozing whitehead.

Heather folded her arms and shot visual eye daggers at Barth, daggers which he hoped weren’t laced with arsenic or ball-shrinking potion.

“Sure, just point out all my flaws, why don’t you?” she threw up her hands. “Let’s everyone gang up on Heather!”

“I’m not ganging up on you. I heard you moaning. I thought you were sick,” Barth’s voice quavered as he braced himself for a feminine hormone backlash, “or a zombie.”

“A zombie!” she shrieked while stomping both feet.

“Dude.” Wolf elbowed him hard in the ribcage. “Just shut up already.”

“Ouch!” Barth cried as he rubbed his bruised rib.

“Serves you right.” Heather broke into a maniacal, wicked, Bride of Chucky, PMSing grin. Then she turned toward Wolf and lunged. “Chocolate marshmallow cookies!” she screamed while snatching the box from his hand.

Wolf shrank back and whimpered with his tail between his legs.

Heather turned from them and grabbed several tampons off the floor before heading toward the damsels’ room at the front of the store.

Barth shook his head while watching Heather hobble away. “Either she’s turning into a zombie or she’s majorly PMSing.”

“I think she’s a PMS zombie,” Wolf snickered. “Don’t worry, dude,” he added, “this curse will only last five to seven days.”

With Wolf smoking a doobie by his side, Barth sat on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store, watching with a mixture of awe and horror as Heather devoured three tubs of Triple-Chocolate Clunky-Monkey ice cream.

And he thought zombies were insatiable.

After letting out a large belch, followed by a wet-sounding, explosive fart, Heather threw the empty container into the gutter and leaned back on her elbows. “Drag told us what happened with the prince.” She arched a brow while holding out one hand. “Do you think I can have my wand back?”

“Drag?” Barth perked up. “He made it to the wizard? Is he okay?”

He pulled the wand out of his pocket and set it in her hand, all the while praying she wouldn’t use it against him if she was overcome with a hormone-induced fit of rage.

“Yeah, Wizard is trying to fix him,” Heather said. “They were able to restore power after all the zombies left to go eat Nessie, so it shouldn’t take long.”

“Excellent.” Barth couldn’t contain the huge grin that split his features, despite the sudden foul and overpowering odor of Heather’s PMS ice-cream fart. He tried to be subtle as he pinched his nose while scooting away from her. “This is the best news I’ve heard all day,” he spoke through a wheeze.

“So how are you going to lure the zombies to the lake?” she asked.

“Yeah, Dude,” Wolf echoed as he breathed out a puff of smoke. Somehow, he’d found a huge crate of chocolate marshmallow cookies and had already gone through ten boxes.

Barth shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

“You’d better hurry,” Heather said. “That antidote probably doesn’t have a long shelf life.”

“Shit.” Barth grimaced.

With his rotten luck, of course the antidote had to have a shelf life, which meant his quest had gone from urgent, to really freaking urgent. Barth was tired of trying to save the kingdom from the zombie curse. His feet hurt from walking all the way back from the lake. He’d just eaten way too many carbs. All he really wanted to do was borrow some of Wolf’s smoke and take a nap. Barth didn’t know how this day could get any worse.

And then an unmistakable dragon’s roar rent the air with ear-splitting intensity. They all covered their ears as another roar followed.

Barth stood and turned a circle while looking toward the sky. He wasn’t quite sure why, but whoever this dragon was, he sounded like Drag, only different.

“Holy fucking shit, dudes,” Wolf whimpered while rising on trembling legs. “I think I just crapped my fur.”

Heather jumped up and grabbed Barth’s arm. “What the fuck was that?”

“I-I don’t know,” Barth stammered as he slowly unsheathed his sword. Could that have been Drag? He’d never heard his friend roar like that, not even after that time in Mexico when he blew tequila shots out his ass and the flaming squirts burned off all his butt hairs.

No, this was an angrier roar—a predatory roar.

King Dump and his men came racing around the corner, followed by Wizard who kept tripping over his robes.

“Run for your lives!” several of the soldiers cried as they pushed past the king and raced down the road.

“King Dump!” Barth reached out and latched onto the king’s arm, jerking him to a standstill. “What the hell is going on?”

The king held up his hand as he struggled to catch his breath. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Just tell him the fuck already!” Heather screamed.

Everyone turned wide-eyed expressions on Heather and gaped at her for a long moment.

The next roar shook the giant Medieval Mart thatched roof.

The king thumbed toward the wizard who was still trying to catch up. “The wizard was able to grow Drag back to normal, but he accidentally used tap water when he made the growing potion.”

“What?” Barth gasped. “You mean the curse-infected tap water?”

Wizard cried out as he stumbled on a cobblestone step. “Stupid freaking robes! Why do wizards have to wear this shit, anyway?”

“Wizard!” Barth bellowed as he stormed up to the old man. “Did you really turn my best friend into a zombie?”

“I thought I’d used the purified bottled water for the potion.” Wizard held out both palms. “I didn’t know they were just recycled bottles with tap water.”

“What?” Barth gasped.

Wizard pointed an accusatory finger at the king. “He did it!”

Anger surged through Barth’s skull as he turned on the king and raised his sword. “You dumb fuck!”

“Bottled water is expensive!” The king cowered and shielded his face with his hands.

“No!” Heather grabbed Barth’s arm. “He’s not worth it. We need to focus on saving Drag.”

Barth looked into Heather’s large, pleading eyes. He heaved a sigh and sheathed his sword. He had to admit Heather made sense, even when she was on the rag. He scanned the skies again. No sign of his friend. Maybe he’d scented the dead water monster and was feasting on her brains.

A shudder coursed through Barth’s body at the thought of Drag sucking out the brains of Nessie, who also happened to be Drag’s second cousin. Feasting on family was kinda like cannibalism and incest all rolled into one. Drag was so not going to be happy when he came out of his zombie trance. He’d need weeks and weeks of shopping therapy just to get over it.

Barth groaned.

So much for any bonus paychecks he’d get for slaying zombies. But really, that’s not what was important at the moment. He’d give anything to have his friend back to normal.

“Hey, mighty dragon slayer.” The king stomped a foot. “It’s time for you to live up to your family name and kill that damned dragon.”

Anger like he’d never known surged through Barth’s blood as he glared at the king. “You put tap water in those bottles on purpose, didn’t you? You’ve
wanted
me to kill my best friend ever since the second chapter!”

The king backed up several paces while averting his gaze. “No, well maybe. It serves you two right.” He pointed a finger at Barth. “After what you did to my son!”

“You royal, pompous douchehead!” Barth pulled back his fist and pummeled King Dump right in the nose.

The king hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The ground continued to shake as his head hit a cobblestone and his beaver-pelt toupee went skidding across the road.

Barth puffed up his chest, feeling mighty proud of himself. He never realized he had the strength to shake the ground beneath his boots.

“I didn’t think I hit him that hard,” Barth said as he loosened his collar.

All this excitement must have raised his internal temperature by several degrees as he was suddenly feeling very hot, especially along his backside. And wasn’t it odd how Heather, Wolf and Wizard had gone eerily quiet behind him?

As the heat along his back intensified, Barth decided maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if he turned around.

The first thing he noticed was that his view of Medieval Mart was obscured by very large, heaving, scaly chest. As he slowly turned his gaze upward, the second thing Barth noticed was a long greenish pendulum of drool that hung off the tip of Drag’s snarling lip.

“Uh, Barth, you might want to run,” Heather’s voice came from somewhere behind Drag’s body.

That was the last thing he heard before Drag snatched Barth up in his talons and jumped into the sky.

* * *

“Drag!” Barth cried. “It’s me, your best friend. You really don’t want to eat me.”