Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time (14 page)

Chapter
28

Iron Man

The change in Trent’s behavior over the past week had been
stunning. Gone were the racist jokes, mean-spirited pranks and random acts of
violence. He even stopped pestering Zombie Cliff for the most part. The dirty
cop now spent his time scrubbing the apartment and telling stories to the child
that he’d named Brandon.

Not everyone believed in the miraculous transformation.
“Trent’s acting like Martha Stewart, what gives?” Blake said and bit his lip
while Mike jabbed him with a shot of insulin. “It’s odd.”

“Unless you buy into Fred Flintstone lifestyle-changing head
injuries, I’d say he’s bullshitting us.” Mike pulled out the syringe and
applied a Band-Aid.

Charlie agreed. “Trusting Trent’s like putting your cock in
a shark’s mouth and expecting a blowjob, you won’t be happy with the results.
And I find it peculiar that he had exactly eight bullets left.”

“One for each of us,” Mike said ominously, then changed his
tone. “Are you over the Carrie Evans thing? I know that must have been pretty
shocking to hear.”

“I think all the puking was withdrawal symptoms, but I was
upset,” Charlie said and chuckled self-consciously. “Still, it wasn’t a total
surprise.”

“Why’s that?” Blake asked as he rubbed his arm.

“I showed up at her dorm during finals one night and she was
acting weird, like she couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I always wondered if
someone was hiding in the closet, R. Kelly style.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Yeah, about
that… sorry.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Oh come on! I got snaked by a gay
guy? You gotta be—”

A loud scuffle in the living room interrupted their chat as
Bruce angrily confronted Left-Nut. “Answer me this, why do you smell like
cherries? If you’re hiding food, I’ll—”

“Ginger, you’re not gonna do shit,” Left-Nut replied calmly.
“But if you must know, it’s cherry-flavored sex lube. I snagged it downstairs,
so when we meet the ladies my breath’s gonna be fruity fresh and my dong’s
gonna—”

Bruce scoffed. “You got the fruity part right.”

“Have you smelled
your
breath lately? I’ll start
calling you Butter-loaf ‘cause your teeth are so yellow they could butter a
whole loaf of bread.”

Russ chuckled and Bruce turned on him in an instant. “You
don’t have any room to talk with your summer teeth. Some are there, some
aren’t.” The reality was that everyone’s hygiene had disappeared since
Charlie’s travel size toothpaste ran dry, and gingivitis was the least of their
problems. A steady diet of cat food and alcohol had led to the early stages of
scurvy, and without vitamin C, they’d all be losing teeth. And that wasn’t to
mention the stench.

Now it was Russ’s turn to
fire back. “Boy, you got a gator mouth and a gerbil ass.” He raised his fists
in a challenge.

Bruce stood his ground. “Fuck off, hill-jack.”

“Listen up, brother—”

“No, you listen up. Talking like an idiot and having that
ridiculous hair doesn’t make you Hulk Hogan.”

At that moment, Trent entered the fray, carrying the mute
child on his back while making airplane noises. He stopped to dish out
disdainful looks and words of wisdom. “You’re all setting a bad example for
Brandon.” They rolled their eyes at the man running for step-dad of the year,
previously known for shaking down the homeless for coke money. “It’s time to
grow up and stop bickering. WWJD?”

Russ laughed. “Says the jerk who threatened to rip my
mustache off and wipe his ass with it.”

“This is too much. Trent used to sneak into everyone’s rooms
at the frat house and take a needle to their condoms,” Blake added.

Trent set the child down gently on the couch. “True, I have
behaved poorly in the past, but can’t a man change?” Their resounding answer
was no.

The circular firing squad kept going until Mike stepped in.
“Since we’re all here and in such a great mood, we should talk about our next
steps.”

Now Left-Nut threw his hands up. “Let’s hear it, Rambo. Or
should I say, Rainbow?”

Mike ignored the white-haired loudmouth as he always did.
“This junk we’re eating is killing us, and we’re about out of it anyways. Not
to mention the girls need more food. There’s no other option — we have to
venture out.”

“And I’ve only got one more day of shots,” Blake added.
“After that I’m pretty much boned.”

Charlie stood up. “I figure we can kill three birds with one
stone by going across the street. We’ll hit the animal clinic for the drugs, the
Halloween store for clothes, and the quick-e mart on the corner for food. The
problem’s actually doing it.”

Trent un-holstered his firearm. “Sounds good, but you’ll
need a sheriff to lead this posse. Who’s got my bullets?” Nobody volunteered,
and a dejected Trent sat down amidst the awkward silence.

“We can’t go off
half-cocked like we did before or we’ll get killed,” Bruce said. “We need a
strategy.”

It was at this time that Smokey stood up, rubbing his hands
together like a Bond villain. “Luckily for you boners, I’ve been dreaming about
this type of scenario for decades.”

“You and every other nerd in America,” Left-Nut said with a
huff. “But look outside and you’ll see some of your fellow zombie fan-boys
covered in shit with half of their fucking faces ripped off.”

Smokey was unperturbed. “Why do you think I made this
doom-stead? I was prepared for bird flu, martial law, economic collapse, alien
invasion, you name it.”

“Okay, Nostradamus, why didn’t you stockpile more food?”
Bruce queried loudly.

“I did, but you know I get the munchies a lot.” He was
unchallenged on that point. “I’m gonna need Big Rob’s assistance upstairs for a
bit, so the rest of you hang ten.”

An hour later, with “Iron Man” on the stereo, Rob came in
wearing an ill-fitting snowsuit covered head to toe in duct tape. A Chicago
Bears helmet and a rather large sword rounded out the ensemble. His hair flowed
out the back and added to the archaic look.

“If it isn’t Dildo Baggins,” Left-Nut announced wryly.

“He might look idiotic, but someone should try biting him,”
Smokey said. Left-Nut didn’t hesitate to latch on to Rob’s forearm like a
suckling pig.

“Ow, that hurts, you little buttnugget,” Rob said and
knocked the jerk down with a cuff to the ear.

Smokey raised Rob’s arm for inspection. Sure enough, the
tape was slobbery, but intact. “These zombies aren’t shit if you take away the
element of surprise,” Smokey formulated. “Give Rob room to work and he’ll plow
through ‘em like Mike would a bunch of sailors on shore leave.”

Charlie started a slow clap. “I gotta ask though, where in
the hell did you get a sword?”

“Same place I get all my junk. QVC.”

Chapter
29

Elvis Has Left the
Building

Big Rob stepped into the corpse-littered street gripping the
sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. He’d never even held a sword, much
less used one in mortal combat, and his confidence in the plan was shaky at
best. Smokey had lost a lot of brain cells over the years after all.

But the worrying ended as soon as the first creature
staggered towards him. Oddly enough, it was the freak show Santa from the bike
parade, now missing a foot and the lower half of his costume. Rob clumsily
thrust the sword at the zombie’s jolly mid-section and buried it to the hilt.
Santa hit the ground while Rob pulled the bloody blade out, impressed with
himself.

“Bad Santa,” Russ said from his observation post on the
roof, drunkenly chuckling at his own pun.

Rob didn’t have time to celebrate as a short McDonald’s
worker rushed towards him. More confident, he swung for the fences and the
single mom’s head tumbled into the gutter. It was a rough ending for a woman
that worked sixty-hour weeks to put her kids through private school, but this
was no fairy tale.

“Highlander, there can be only one!” Russ shouted from afar.
Soon, every zombie within earshot joined the rumble and Rob had to backpedal as
they swarmed around him.

Using his entire weight, Rob swung wildly and connected. The
powerful blow met the thick skull of a tow truck driver and Smokey’s Lord of
the Rings Collector’s Edition sword snapped in half. Out of options, he opened
the alley gate with the entire neighborhood following him. In a fluid move for
such a big man, Rob hurdled Jim and Cindy’s fresh grave and dropkicked Cliff
square in the chest, sending the emaciated zombie clattering across the bricks.

The feral mob closed in while biting at Rob’s limbs and
trying to pull him down. All he could do was toss them off one at a time. But
no matter how hard he body-slammed, clothes-lined and karate-chopped, they came
right back after him. Thankfully, the ladder touched down and Rob hustled up
while his friends hurled insults and projectiles at the raging pack of savages.

The loud commotion brought even more cannibals to the scene
and the growing rabble pressed in tighter and tighter while Rob egged them on,
just out of reach. Finally, the surprising genius of the plan came into focus
as Smokey pulled a rope and the gate swung shut, trapping the mosh pit of
zombies inside.

Success. They’d packed in seventy two poor souls like cattle
and the streets now appeared empty. After making sure Rob’s pseudo-armor held
up, the gang climbed down, leaving only a sickly Blake behind to guard the
ladder.

Rob led the way, carrying a wooden bat spiked with nails and
a brand new attitude. The others huddled behind their battle-hardened “tank”
and brandished their own assortment of garden tools, kitchenware, and
construction implements. They were just as likely to injure themselves or each
other, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Fully exposed, they’d
need to rely on stealth and speed to get the goods and return.

Rob farted loudly.

“Damn, hold it in, will ya?” Charlie whispered as they
approached the nearby convenience store. In a rare bit of good luck, it was
unlocked.

They were used to the smell of countless bloated bodies
baking in the sun, but the stench from inside was on a completely new level.
Sour milk, moldy fruit, rat droppings and a sticky substance on the floor all combined
into a hodgepodge of funk. Mike plugged his nose and waved everyone in.
“Remember, quick and quiet.”

The men spread out and grabbed whatever their hearts desired
most. For Charlie, it was canned peaches and jars of applesauce, while Russ
took armfuls of cigarettes and trucker-speed. Of course, Rob went straight for
the candy aisle while Left-Nut, still dreaming of future hook ups, snagged
shampoo and toothpaste. Oddly enough, Trent hit up the toy section and grabbed
balsa airplanes and other junk for his unlikely new best friend. If he was
putting on an act, he was doing a great job of it.

Bruce was the most practical of all and searched for
Pepto-Bismol and the softest toilet paper he could find. The poor diet had
wrecked more than their breath, and these items would be priceless. He tossed
economy-sized packs into a shopping cart and moved swiftly down the aisle, but
his rusty cart squeaked as he turned a corner, and an eerie sound rose in
response from the back of the store.

Everyone froze in place with their weapons at the ready, but
no attack came. The store grew quiet once more as Rob strode to the rear like a
knight searching for a dragon to slay. “All clear,” he whispered. Then he
looked at the floor. “Ah, shit.”

Charlie rushed to his friend. “What is it?”

Rob pointed and uttered what might be the single most
disturbing word in the English language: “Zom-baby.” A sickly-looking toddler
emerged from the filth and inched its way towards Rob’s foot. The starving
abomination opened its tiny, toothless mouth and tried to gnaw through Big
Rob’s sneaker. He didn’t have the heart to dispatch the wretched creature. None
of them did.

Finally, Russ removed his faded REO Speedwagon shirt and
lovingly wrapped the small child up. He disappeared into the deep freezer and
shut the door behind him. A minute later, the father of five returned shirtless
and visibly shaken.

Charlie tried to cheer him up by pointing to the crude
homemade tattoo on Russ’s arm depicting a smiling monkey masturbating over a
Chevy symbol. “How did that seem like a good idea?”

“You would be surprised what sounds cool when you’re huffing
spray-paint,” he replied and sniffled away tears. “My kids liked it, though.”

After regaining their composure, the crew finished up
looting the store and gathered by the register for their next move. Charlie
noticed a disheveled creature standing in the middle of the road near the
corralled zombies. “Rob, you better bring it in before a crowd forms. Curious
bastards.”

The giant propped the door open and whistled, and the lone
zombie ran right into a storm of hacking, slashing, bashing and poking. Even
Left-Nut got a lick in on the hapless straggler.

“Now that was a rush,” he said while pulling garden shears
from the dismembered corpse’s neck. An arterial spray of blood hit the ceiling
while Left-Nut giggled like a frog-stomping schoolboy. “Money shot.”

They exited the building and split up, with Left-Nut, Bruce,
and Russ hauling the spoils home while the others made their way to the
shuttered Halloween Store. Weeks of wearing the same clothes had left them
badly needing a wardrobe change, and even cheesy costumes would be an
improvement.

Russ crowbarred the door open, but they hesitated to enter.
Trent articulated why. “It’s blacker than Shaq’s butthole in there, I’m not
going first.”

Charlie clicked his flashlight on and boldly led the way.
Closed at the time of the outbreak, the place was decorated with fake webs and
leering displays, ready for a Halloween rush that would never arrive. Even more
ominous was the idea that real monsters could be lurking nearby, and every
pirate, mummy and alien looked ready to pounce in the dim glow of the
flashlight.

Charlie picked a cowboy outfit for himself and a Thor
costume for Rob while Mike quietly snuck a French maid getup into the sack.
Meanwhile, Trent searched for the kids’ aisle and found himself alone in the
dark, wondering if he’d heard footsteps nearby. The hair rose on the back of
his neck and he got the distinct feeling that something evil was nearby.
Noticing a figure in his peripheral, Trent turned and swung his sledgehammer
with a startled fury, striking something and falling down in the process. A
decapitated mannequin tumbled onto Trent and sent him further into a frenzy. He
tossed the dummy and limped back to the others, hyperventilating and swearing
at the same time. “This place is giving me the creeps. You’ll have to get
Blake’s Pamprin without me. I’m out.”

“Okay,” Mike said as he saw fear was causing the old Trent
to peek out from whatever hidey-hole he’d been in. “I’ll help carry the clothes
home and you two can get the insulin next door.” Mike looked back to Charlie as
he left. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the ladder ready.”

“Damned right you will,” Charlie said. “And nice outfit,” he
added with a wink.

Minutes later, Rob and Charlie pried the vet clinic open and
found a heartbreaking scene. Countless dogs, cats, and the occasional rabbit
had died in their cages, literally left to rot. Some had struggled to break
free by gnawing at the bars until their teeth gave out. The tragedy was too
much for Rob to process and he took his helmet off and slumped to the ground.

Ignoring his friend rocking back and forth like a child,
Charlie found several lifesaving vials in the fridge and a box of penicillin
for himself. He turned to Rob. “Come on, buddy.” Just then, a faint scratching
noise could be heard.

“What was that?” Rob said.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Let’s go.” Charlie made his way to
the door.

Rob ignored him and frantically searched the cages for any
possible survivors. He had almost given up when a faint movement in a trashcan
caught his eye. Rob carefully pulled a tiny ball of fur out and held it up to
the flashlight. Satisfied, they hustled across the street and up the ladder.

“Check it out,” Rob said. “We got the medicine and I found a
kitten. Only bummer is I think it was born without eyes.” He put the little
thing down on the coffee table.

Smokey pet it. “He’s
cute. What are you gonna name him?”

Rob smiled. “What else? Elvis.”

Mike examined the squirming critter and fought back a belly
laugh. “That not a kitten, it’s a baby raccoon.”

“You dumbass,” Left-Nut said and quickly backed out of
swatting range.

“What was it doing in the clinic?” Bruce said.

Mike examined the raccoon as it made weird cooing and
clicking noises. “Its momma might have left it there to forage and never came
back. My bet would be one of those big-ass rats got to it. Nasty critters.”

“What about its eyes?” Rob asked with fear in his voice.

“It hasn’t opened them yet,” Mike said. “But it looks
healthy otherwise.”

Rob breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “We can keep it?”

“I don’t see why not, but you’ll need to get powdered
formula and parasite medicine from the clinic.” Mike flipped the raccoon over.
“And you need to pick out a new name. This little guy’s a girl.” Rob looked
uncomfortable with the last bit of news, and Mike relented. “Fine then, Elvis
it is. But remember, like a baby, you need to feed her every three hours.”

Rob sniffled, paused, and
began sobbing again. “I never had a pet before.” In a nice surprise, Brandon
hesitantly stroked Elvis and beamed a gap-toothed smile.

“I’ll get a box and some towels so we can make her a bed,”
Charlie said.

Still unable to speak, Rob followed him into the kitchen.

Not everyone was excited about their new roommate, however.
“That’s great. First an orphan and now a rodent. Next I suppose we’ll be
housing bedbugs and carnies,” Left-Nut said. “And I’m not cleaning up any
shit.”

“You know, that raccoon already has more friends here than
you do,” Blake said ruefully while grabbing his medicine. He turned to Mike
after inspecting one of the cloudy vials. “Is it supposed to look like this?
The stuff I use looks like water.”

Mike took the container, shook it vigorously, and handed it
back. “This is made for dogs and it wasn’t refrigerated either, but it’s all we
have. It’s your call if you want to take it or not. I guess it depends on how
you’re feeling.”

“Like shit.”

Mike rested his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Then there’s your
answer.”

Blake nodded grimly and then jabbed the syringe into his arm
with a wince. “Good thing I was born lucky.”