Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (6 page)

“That sucks.” Heather slumped on a log beside the wolf.

“Yeah, it was so not cool.” Wolf wiped the back of his watery eyes with a massive paw. “You ever seen a possessed pig run around the yard without a head? Kinda like squealing, without the squeal and lots of blood.”

“Zombie pigs.” Barth sheathed his sword and sat on the opposite side of the fire. His mouth watered at the scent of their succulent roasting meat.

The wolf let out a strangled sob. “All they kept saying was brains, brains, brains, over and over. It was the freakiest shit I ever seen.” He leaned into Heather and cried as she draped an arm around his shoulder.

After several minutes of convulsive sobbing, the wolf’s cries died down to a whimper. “So, anyway,” he sniffled, “it seemed a shame to waste such good meat, especially ‘cause I’m working on such a good buzz.” He pulled a joint from behind his ear and lit the end with a few fire embers. He nodded toward the little headless pigs roasting on the fire. “Anyone want some pulled pork? I added my own special herbs to the meat. It’s got a wickedly awesome flavor.”

Drag licked his lips with his long serpent tongue. “I’m famished.”

“Me, too.” Barth rubbed his midsection.

The wolf turned pleading eyes on Drag. “Hey, dragon dude, there’s a lot of strange noises in the forest. Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

“Sure,” Drag said before reaching out and pulling a little pig carcass off the spit.

Heather and Barth each ripped off a succulent leg by the bone.

“Thanks.” Wolf smiled before ripping off a curly little pig tail with his teeth. “If you want, I can make bacon in the morning.”

“Sounds great,” they all mumbled through mouthfuls of pork.

* * *

“It’s cold out here. I brought you a blanket.”

Barth stepped onto the ledge of the cave and handed the blanket to Heather.

“Thanks. I couldn’t sleep.” She softly smiled before wrapping the blanket around her slender shoulders and turning her gaze back toward the night sky.

Somehow, Barth knew the beautiful witch would want to come out here and bask in the beauty of the night. As the full moon dipped behind passing clouds, the starry night sky was filled with so much wondrous beauty, it seemed almost ethereal.

Almost.

The moans and cries for brains coming from the forest below and the kingdom beyond resonated through the air and echoed through their cavernous sanctuary.

A shiver snaked up Barth’s spine. “Yeah, neither could I.”

Heather leaned over and patted his hand. “You worried about tomorrow?”

“Uh, not really,” he lied. He tried to repress the image of the little flesh-eating corpses who’d slurped the brains out of that pretty pale-skinned woman. That was some seriously fucked-up shit.

Though Barth had trained his entire life to slay beasties and monsters, nothing had prepared him for today, and nothing had prepared him for what he would face tomorrow.

“It’s just so sad. So many good people.” Heather heaved a resonant sigh. She turned to him while batting her lashes. “If it wasn’t for you and Drag willing to help them, Barth, they’d probably all die.”

Barth felt his heart slam against his ribcage. Again, not literally, it’s just that’s how it felt whenever he looked into Heather’s pretty eyes.

Barth swallowed. “They still might die if I can’t get them to eat the spaghetti.”

“But you’ve got to try to save them,” she pleaded as she inched closer to him and placed a delicate hand on his chest.

Barth’s racing heart felt ready to explode at her touch. Of course, it really wasn’t going to explode, but you get the picture. “I-I w-will.” He stammered as he lost himself in her gaze.

She chewed on her bottom lip while toying with the string on his vest. “Promise?”

His mouth suddenly felt parched, as if all moisture had headed down south as fuel for his rapidly growing erection. “Cross my heart,” he rasped before backing away. The last thing he needed was to get a hard-on at a time like this, especially not over a witch.

Barth had done a lot of serious thinking over the past few hours. There was no doubt that Heather was hot. She even seemed nice, especially for a witch. But the fact remained that she was a witch, just like Douchebagga. And though she was hot and sweet now, one day, when her tits sagged to her midsection, and she sprouted a few warts on her chin, not only would she be ugly, but she’d probably be evil, too.

He couldn’t deny the massive crush he had for the pretty witch, but Barth didn’t know if his heart—or his balls—could handle the transformation.

He squeezed his legs together and involuntarily cringed at the thought of him angering Heather one day and being on the receiving end of a ball-shrinking curse.

He shook his head, trying desperately to clear all thoughts of shrunken testicles. “So you were friends with a lot of the townspeople?”

A frown marred Heather’s pretty brow. “No, not really. Most everyone in Fairytale Kingdom hated my guts.”

Barth felt a twinge of guilt at the look of pain in Heather’s glossy eyes. He knew exactly how it felt to be loathed and disrespected by everyone. He assumed she had a tougher time of it.

“Well, you work for a pretty vile hag,” he said.

“She was the only employer hiring,” Heather groaned. “I’d actually applied to work for the Good Witch of the North, but I didn’t have enough references.”

Barth scrunched his brow. “You mean there’s good witches?”

“Uh, yeah.” Heather glared at him. “Why? Do you think we’re all bad?”

“Sorry.” Barth cowered back a few steps while shielding his balls. He hoped he wouldn’t piss her off too much. “You’ve all got a pretty nasty reputation.”

Heather marched up to Barth and jabbed a finger in his chest. “You hypocrite!”

Barth backed further into the cave while trying not to trip over his own feet. “Excuse me?”

“Dragons have nasty reputations, too, but your best friend is a dragon.”

Barth threw up his hands. “Drag is harmless. Witches shrink people’s nutsacks and turn them into zombies.”

“You know, I thought you were kind of cute.” Heather threw her blanket to the floor and folded her arms across her chest. “Too bad you’re just like all the other guys.” She turned on her heel and marched back out of the cave.

Barth’s shoulders fell. He hadn’t intended to piss her off. Worst of all, she’d said he was cute. No girl had ever told him that before, at least, not after he’d returned from his first dragon-slaying quest as a total failure.

He followed Heather back to the ledge. “So did you think I was sexy cute or friend cute?”

“Never mind,” Heather groaned. She brushed past him without sparing him another glance. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, mighty hung dragon and tolerable sidekick.” The Artist Formerly Known as The Prince came bounding up to the trio as they waited in the opulent courtyard opposite the royal kitchen.

Barth’s patience was quickly unraveling. Thanks to an erotic dream he’d had about Heather, he’d woken up with a massive hard-on and Drag and Big Bad Wolf wouldn’t afford him the privacy to relieve it.

Heather had given him the cold shoulder all morning. She’d refused his aid when she mounted the dragon and hardly said a word during the flight to the castle. The wizard was late finishing up the potion and the chefs still hadn’t boiled all the spaghetti. The moans outside the castle wall were getting louder. It was only a matter of time before the zombies breached the king’s security system. And now someone had let the little royal pain in the ass out of his nursery.

“You?” Barth pointed at the teen. “I was hoping you’d turned into a zombie by now.”

“I have an aversion to water.” He shrugged.

“So I can tell.” Drag waved a paw in front of his nose while growling. “What do you want, kid?”

“Yeah,” Barth snapped before leaning against a statue. “Speak up. We’re kind of busy.”

The kid fell to his knees and struck a prayer pose. “Please take me with you to slay the zombies.”

Barth shook his head. “We’re not going to slay any zombies. We’re going to turn them back to normal.”

“Damn.” The kid stood and brushed grass blades off his black pants. “I was so hoping to sketch some zombie penises.”

“You need help,” Drag snickered.

The kid fell on top of Drag’s paw and clung to one massive toe. “Please take me with you.”

“Hell no!” Drag flicked his toe and sent the kid sprawling backward.

“Yeah.” Barth folded his arms. “Get lost.”

“What the hell is going on here?” The king, who was shadowed by several royal kiss asses, stormed up to them while wildly flailing his arms. His dead carcass toupee was precariously close to falling off his head as it dangled past his left ear. “The royal cook said he has to feed the entire kingdom. I’m not running a soup kitchen.”

Heather stepped forward. “My king, we need the spaghetti to feed the zombies, or the kingdom will perish.”

“It’s just spaghetti,” Barth chided. “It’s only seventy nine cents a bag.”

The king turned a derisive glare on Barth. “This, coming from a knight who can’t even afford Top Ramen.”

Barth repressed a grimace as he heard Heather snicker beside him. Sure, she knew he was tight on funds, but he didn’t want her to know he couldn’t even afford instant noodles. “Why should I buy Top Ramen when I can get free taquitos at happy hour?”

“Please,” Heather pleaded. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“If the people want spaghetti,” the king growled, “then they will have to pay for it.” He turned on his heel and marched back toward the castle while his royal kiss asses trailed in his wake.

“They can’t, sire,” Barth called while chasing after him. “They’re zombies.”

The king spun on his heels, nearly knocking down several royal kiss asses who were lined up behind him like sniveling bowling pins. “Well, let them eat cake,” he sneered.

Barth shook his head. “That’s not cost effective. Cake mixes are usually two dollars a box unless you can get them on sale.”

The king arched a brow. His toupee slipped down another inch. “Not
that
cake, dumbass.”

* * *

“Here zombies! Here, zombies! Come get some nice delicious goo from the bottom of the royal ovens. Mmmm. I’ve added a special ball growing, unzombifying potion for extra flavor.”

Barth stood in the center of the town square, hardly able to control his quaking knees as moaning Fairytale zombies emerged from taverns and alleyways.

He hovered over a big black cauldron while ladling scoops of the goo into wooden bowls. He handed the bowls to Heather, who laid them out on a nearby picnic bench.

Barth heaved a sigh as she hardly spared him a glance before turning her back on him. She was still giving him the cold shoulder, but at least she wasn’t completely ignoring him. She’d actually mumbled ‘thanks’ when he wiped a bit of spilled goo off her apron.

Drag whined while crouching behind Barth, his large body sticking out like a sore thumb. “Barth, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Well,” Barth snapped. “I can’t afford pasta for five thousand crazed fairytale creatures.”

“Maybe we should just stick to our original plan and flee the kingdom.”

“We can’t,” Barth hissed as he nodded toward the pretty witch who was busy arranging a decorative centerpiece on the picnic table. “I promised Heather I’d help.”

“All this for a little witch pussy,” Drag groaned.

“Stop it, Drag.”

Barth repressed the urge to lose his cool as he focused, once again, on Heather’s shapely behind. He’d never appreciated the tight bodices on cliché black witch gowns until he’d seen one on Heather. She filled it out nicely, without sagging, flappy milk jugs like Douchebagga.

He heaved a sigh.

Too bad Heather was a witch. Just like all young maidens eventually ended up fat and ugly with excessive upper-lip hairs like their mothers, Heather might one day end up looking and acting the part of the cackling old crone like Douchebagga.

Or would she? Could Heather have been telling the truth when she’d said there were actually good witches? Up until he’d met her, Barth never knew good witches existed. He’d never heard of this good Northern witch. Barth made a mental note to ask the wizard when they got back to the castle.