Floyd & Mikki (Book 2): Zombie Slayers (Dawn of the Living) (25 page)

“Why you cryin’, Floyd?”

Mikki’s voice was weak, but clear. He looked up to see her eyes open, looking at him with concern.

What the hell? Was his brain playing tricks on him? Was he dreaming before, or was he dreaming now? Floyd couldn’t tell what was real anymore.

“Why you cryin’, baby?” Mikki asked again.

This time, the others heard it, too. Doc ran over to the other side of the gurney and gently pulled Mikki’s head over to look into her face. Sure enough, her eyes were open. More importantly, she was breathing! The breath still came in rough gasps, but she was breathing!

“Oh, hi, Doc. You fix up Mya?”

Mya heard this and burst out into tears. Ten seconds ago, Mikki was lying there dead, and her first thought after Floyd about Mya? The Asian girl was processing some serious guilt issues. They really needed to have a talk later. But Mya was too choked up to say anything at the moment.

Doc wondered how much water had been lost from the Mya’s body. It seemed she had done nothing but cry whenever she was awake ever since she saw Mikki in here. Still, he was glad she was feeling well enough to cry.

“Yes, Mikki,” Doc reassured her. “Mya’s fine. Or, she will be, after she gets some rest.”

“It’s a miracle!” Floyd exclaimed.

Doc just snorted.

“Oh, come on, Doc! You have to admit she was dead!”

“I was only dead for a little bit, Floyd,” Mikki interjected, in a soft voice. “I think I saw heaven.”

“Let me guess,” Doc offered, trying to get a good look into Mikki’s eyes. “Tunnel of bright light? See a bunch of dead relatives?”

“Yeah!” Mikki agreed. “How’d you know?”

Doc directed his answer at Floyd. “Synapses in the brain firing. Looks like a tunnel of light. Relatives are nothing more than hallucinations. Quite common in near-death experiences.”

“
Near
death?” Floyd argued. “Doc, you called it yourself. You turned off the heart monitor and everything. She died!”

“If she had actually died, she wouldn’t be here now. Whatever!” Turning to Mikki, he said, in a voice far more gentle than anyone had ever heard out of him before, “I’m just glad you’re back with us. You don’t want to ruin my reputation as a doctor, now do you?”

Humor? That was also new for Doc.

“Wouldn’t think of it, Doc,” Mikki answered feebly with a little smile. Turning to Floyd, she said, “I really did see heaven, Floyd! I saw Saint Margaret. And my mom was there. She died, Floyd. I never seen her before. I coulda stayed there, but I had to get back to you.”

“Alright, now, don’t excite yourself.” Doc scolded gently. “You’ve lost a lot of blood and you have a punctured lung. You need to stay laying down for a while. And no excitement, understand?”

Mikki looked at him and nodded. Indeed, she was feeling pretty tired. She had been through a lot lately. She guessed Floyd had been right, all along. She really wasn’t invulnerable. But there was something else. She had never really been afraid of dying. It was never something that terrified her or haunted her dreams. Like Floyd, however, she had learned to like living.

No, she didn’t lose a fear of dying, because she never had one, but she had a newfound determination to live every day to the fullest. She had made her choice. As long as she was with Floyd, Mikki could handle whatever life threw at her. Good or bad, life was an adventure worth living, because she had someone worth living it with.

It took more than a month for Mikki and Mya to recuperate. During that time, the two girls had bonded in the makeshift hospital. It started when Mya looked over at Mikki one morning to say, “Doc said you got hurt trying to save me.” It was the first time the two had spoken directly since the fight.

“Yup,” Mikki admitted.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t even know. I just couldn’t leave you like that, knowin’ I done it to you. I kill creepers all the time, but you were a lot like me: a big pain in the ass. You didn’t need to get killed over somethin’ that stupid. Floyd puts up with me all the time, and I ain’t easy to deal with. I shoulda been able to put up with you. But when you went after my man, I just lost it. That scared me. Then I really hurt you. That scared me more. I just had to make things right.”

“Nobody in my life ever cared enough to do anything like that for me. Sure as hell, nobody ever died for me. Do me a favor, though. Promise?”

“What?”

“Don’t ever do that again!”

Mikki laughed. “Deal!”

Mya laughed with her. She reached out and took Mikki’s hand in hers. Mikki squeezed it gently.

“So why were you such a pain in the ass?” Mikki asked.

“I don’t know, either. At first I was just yanking your chain. Then I guess I got jealous. I never had anyone love me the way Floyd obviously loves you. And, I don’t like to lose—at anything—so I couldn’t back down.”

Over the next few weeks, they shared their life stories, along with a lot of smartass comments and wisecracks. More than a few times, Doc had to warn them both to “settle down” before they popped their stitches from laughing so hard. Mikki shared her story first, telling everything from the time her mom died in childbirth, to killing her dad and hitting the road, to her adventures with Floyd. Mya ate it up. Then it was her turn.

Mya had grown up in Los Angeles, the third daughter of immigrant parents from Japan. Her parents were very “old world.” She always felt stifled growing up, like she could never be herself. That feeling skyrocketed when she hit puberty. Sexuality was rampant in the public schools, on the Internet, and everywhere else in society. She embraced the new world, while her parents were buried in the old.

When she got caught sexting dirty messages and sending nude pictures of herself to a boy at school, her father beat her with a fury, while her mother cried. Not at him, but at her, yelling that she was no daughter of hers. That was it. It was all she could take. Mya left her house and never looked back. She was soon part of the LA underground, living with one boy or man after another.

At first, it was just for the sex. She couldn’t get enough of it. She’d drop her pants for just about any man, anywhere. One guy kept her in an apartment and dressed her up like a pop star. He brought other friends with him to visit her. Sometimes he came with other men, and sometimes with other women. Mya loved the attention and she never failed to please. He got her addicted to cocaine and other drugs, until she didn’t even know what she was doing half the time. It wasn’t until more than a year had passed that she found out how much money he was making by whoring her out. She might have learned earlier, if she had paid attention, but she didn’t want to hear it. She preferred the fantasy that he loved her.

After she learned the truth, however, she asked him about it. His first reaction was to laugh. Then he screamed at her that she was an ungrateful bitch. He owned her and she had nothing to say about it. That’s the way it was and that’s how it was going to be. She snuck out one night, taking a bag of fine jewelry and clothes, and never looked back.

Of course, she tried to pawn the jewelry and found out it was all fake. High-quality fakes, but fakes nonetheless. She got less than $100 for all of it. Then her craving kicked in and she sold herself for cocaine to a pusher after living on the streets for less than a week. She was filthy, her $1,500 Pierre Le Chat dress was torn and ragged, and someone had stolen her bag with the rest of her clothes and all of her money. The next man she met treated her like shit, but he introduced her to a pimp who serviced an elite clientele. She officially became one of his “working girls,” but on a substantially better scale than most of the girls on the street.

Then one of her Johns got sick. Crazy sick. He tried to bite her. She pushed him away and started throwing things at him, but he kept on coming. She screamed, but no one came to help her. She managed to grab a wooden chair, push him back into the bathroom, and slam the door shut. The door wasn’t locked, but for some reason, the guy couldn’t figure out how to turn the doorknob. Moron must’ve been stoned out of his gourd.

She got dressed and tried calling her pimp, but the phone just rang and rang. Stepping outside, the hallway of the upscale apartment building was empty. The door to her pimp’s room was open and she found him dead on the floor with his mother-of-pearl-handled, gold-trimmed, custom engraved handgun on the floor by his hand. He had put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The back of his head and what little brains he had were plastered all over the back wall. She picked up the gun and rifled his pockets to grab two additional clips of ammo, his wallet, and a huge wad of cash. She also grabbed the keys to his classic Porsche and took off.

The streets were in chaos. People were running, screaming, attacking. People were smashing store windows and stealing anything that wasn’t bolted down. Mya took the back streets, redirecting her route numerous times to avoid roadblocks or riots. She made it out of town, stopping at an abandoned convenience store to pick over the few leftovers. The radio said there was some kind of plague taking over America.

Cars were smashing into each other all along the roads. She managed to avoid several collisions and headed out into the desert. By the time the Porsche ran out of gas, she was half a day away from the city. That was also when withdrawal started kicking in with a vengeance. She had no blow with her to take the edge off, and no place to get any. She spent several days shaking in a cold sweat until all the drugs she had taken finally purged themselves from her body. More than once she thought of putting the pimp’s gun in her own mouth, but somehow, she refused to do it. Crazy Joe picked her up. He might be an asshole at times, but he never tried to pimp her out. That was a first for Mya, and she appreciated it. They had been together ever since.

Until Mikki took her down, that is. He hadn’t visited her even once in the medical trailer.

Floyd, on the other hand, came and visited her every day, bringing food and hanging around, when he wasn’t out training with the Freedom Riders. They were really getting to be a formidable force. He was a bit surprised and even a little jealous at first at the growing friendship between Mikki and Mya, especially when they both joked about him. But he let it slide because, well, that was Floyd.

Besides, he understood that neither Mikki nor Mya had ever had a girlfriend they could really relate to. That was important to girls, but pretty rare to find. Usually, one girl ended up telling a secret they had promised never to tell, or they broke up over some boy, or something else. Women were different than men, and their friendships were different, too. Floyd wasn’t about to ruin that for either of them. Besides, he knew that Mikki loved him and it was clear that Mya had backed off of her Floyd Fever.

“You want to see my scar?” Mya asked, in a chipper voice.

Mikki was a little hesitant, but eventually said, “Sure.”

Mya lifted up her shirt to reveal a fresh, jagged scar on the side of her stomach, about seven inches long. “Doc did a great job, if you ask me.”

“Yeah. I only got these two.” Mikki pulled up her T-shirt to show her the two small holes where Doc had pulled out shrapnel from the front of her tummy.

“Oh that’s nothing! You should see your back. That’s where he did most of his work.”

“Really?” Mikki rolled over for Mya to take a look at her back. “How is it?”

“Wicked!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Mya stepped off the table when Doc wasn’t looking, and snuck over to grab a mirror. She held it up and Mikki craned her neck around to see.

“Cool!”

“I know, right? Battle scars!”

“I reckon I won’t be wearing no bikini for while.”

The two girls erupted in a fit of laughter. “Me neither!” Mya added.

Doc grabbed the mirror from Mya and scolded, “What the hell is wrong with you girls?”

That only made them laugh even harder. Doc made them both lie down again, although their “rest” continued to be punctuated by giggles. The laughter started up again when Floyd came in bearing trays of food and asked, “What’d I miss?”

A few days after Mikki woke up, little Becky came to visit.               Floyd brought her in after getting Doc’s permission, because she kept asking about Mikki and Mya. She was thrilled to see that the two women were getting better. And was even happier to know they had become friends. She chatted up a storm for nearly half an hour before Doc finally pulled the plug on the visit. Before Floyd took Becky out, he gave Mikki her rosary and holy cards back.

Slowly but surely, things were returning to normal. Or, whatever could be considered normal, under the circumstances.

Doc released Mya after three weeks, but he kept Mikki indoors for six. Even then, he ordered her to take it slow. No practicing flying kicks or slicing things up with the katana for a while. Doc kept a watchful eye on every military practice drill just to make sure neither of the girls did anything overly stupid.

It was hard for Mikki to sit and watch everyone else during the morning and afternoon practice, but she would rather watch and be somewhat a part of it than to sit in a corner somewhere sucking her thumb like a school kid in detention. The first time she showed up to watch a morning drill, Mikki brought a folding chair and sat nearby. Floyd came over to ask how she was feeling and if she needed anything.

“Yeah,” she answered, “I’m dyin’ for a cigarette!”

Doc over heard her and immediately jumped in. “Oh hell, no! You had a punctured lung! No cigarettes! Not now, not ever! Understand?”

Mikki reluctantly agreed. She would have to stick to sucking on lollipops from now on. Unless she could get Floyd alone. He kissed her on the forehead and flashed her big smile before returning to practice some more.

Whenever Mikki showed up, Mya would run over to give her a big hug, then go back to her drills. Mikki had to admit that Mya was getting quite good. Mikki also noticed that Mya completely avoided Floyd, and always practiced with one of the other men.

Mya also had made up with Crazy Joe. Partly out of habit. Partly because she didn’t have a whole lot of other choices. And partly because he gave a real heartbreaking apology when she asked him why he hadn’t come to see her. He said he couldn’t stand to see her that way and reminded him that people have different ways of grieving, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Quite the opposite. Mya didn’t buy the explanation completely, but others told him he had been moping around ever since the incident, and hadn’t been hitting on any of the other women in the camp, so she let it slide—for now.

Another month went by and Mikki got her strength back. Doc was happy with her progress and was frankly surprised at her ability to heal so fast. Of course, he would never tell her that. That kind of news might encourage her to go blow herself up again or something.

He needn’t have worried. Mikki had no fear at all of dying, but she had no intention of doing it again anytime soon. She threw herself into the drills with a passion. Mya was her sparring partner, and the two girls pushed each other hard. More than once, the bystanders feared one of them was going to kill the other, they were so intense. But the nastier they taunted each other and the harder they fought, the more they broke out into laughter when they were done. Mikki even convinced Floyd to let Mya use his wakazashi so she, could teach the Asian girl how to fight with the sword. After all, it was her heritage.

With Mikki back in action, it was time to take the next step. Everyone was ready. They had the training, the weapons, and the armor. Mikki suited up in full Super Z armor. It was time to take back the hospital.

Floyd and Mikki took the lead in the Doom Buggy. The Freedom Riders armored up and joined behind in their pickup trucks and motorcycles. Raul drove while Carlos covered him with a machine gun in the sidecar. Everyone knew that a call for retreat meant get the hell out as fast as possible.

Floyd and Mikki kept the grenades to themselves, however. Too much risk in having a crowd of people throwing bombs around. Besides, the fine art of grenade throwing was not one of the subjects taught in F+M Warrior Camp. Even so, the FMA had more than enough firepower. They parked their vehicles several hundred feet away from what was left of the town.

“What the hell happened here, Floyd?” Mikki asked.

“Well, I kinda sorta maybe mighta…blown up most of the town after you came back all busted up.” He answered with a smile in his voice.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

She gave him a big hug. She would have kissed him, if they weren’t wearing helmets. “Floyd, you’re the best!”

“I reckon.”

Jack and Mya each took a squad of men, while Raul and Carlos joined behind Floyd and Mikki. Mya took the right flank and Jack led the group on the left. Slowly, but purposefully, they started moving forward. A few men and women stayed behind with the pickup trucks, ready to move in if anyone needed a rescue.

It was about 10:30 in the morning, so they didn’t expect to find any zombies in the streets. A few buildings were still standing around the hospital, although most had been vaporized by Floyd’s mini-nuke attack. They didn’t have to worry about residual radiation since the blockbusters were low yield and the Super Z armor protected against low radiation. The neck sealed itself against the inside of the helmet.

The first building was some sort of office building, only two stories tall. Mikki sent in Jack’s group first to clear the first floor, but it met no resistance. Mya took her men to the second floor and eliminated four creepers. There was nothing of value in the building, unless you wanted a really nice Xerox copy machine. Mya thought of making a bunch of copies of her ass, but decided to remain professional.

Nobody knew where the power was coming from, but all the lights were on, so clearly there was a generator of some sort that Floyd hadn’t blown up. It didn’t really matter. They weren’t planning on opening a vacation resort. “Welcome to Zombie Town. Home of the Big Attack. More than 100,000 burned.”

No. Not a good sales pitch. Besides, they had plenty of power in the military camp they had taken over. They could stay there until the food ran out, and there was enough food to keep everyone going for at least a year or two. If they didn’t all decide to pig out, that is. As they left the building, Mikki tagged it with the F+M logo, using a fresh can of red spray paint she took from her backpack. Some things never changed.

The goal was the hospital, but they had to clear the buildings around it first to prevent any risk of getting surrounded. No fortuitous helicopter rescue was likely this time around, if Floyd and Mikki got in over their heads.

Great! The next building was the police station. Three stories high, and completely intact. It was pretty big for a small town. Of course, the town itself was actually bigger than anyone would have suspected. Or at least it had been, before Floyd blew it all to shit. Based on the satellite images Mikki had seen in the military Comm Trailer, she suspected the entire town could have been built to conduct zombie experiments, maybe to seek a cure. No way to tell now.

“All right, listen up!” Mikki ordered, through her helmet. “Floyd and I will take this one with Carlos and Raul. Mya, you back us up. Jack, you keep watch out here. Remember headshots, people! Some of the creepers in here might be wearing body armor. Hey, Crazy Joe! You listening?”

Mikki knew it was him because his bulbous belly bulged awkwardly in the armored jacket.

“Yeah, yeah!” I hear you.” He sounded distracted…afraid.

“Well, pull your head outta your ass and get it back in the game before I go all batshit on you!” Mikki ordered. “Let’s go, Floyd.”

Peering through the outer glass double doors, they could see the entry lobby was empty, other than the sea of dead bodies that littered the floor. There was no way to know what had happened. Was there a riot? Mass suicide? People trying to break out of jail? People trying to break into jail, thinking they would be safer? Only the dead would know, and they weren’t talking.

Floyd leaned over and slowly pulled open one of the doors, doing his best to avoid making any sound. Mikki entered with Bonnie’s barrel pointing ahead. Raul and Carlos followed her and Floyd entered last, moving up to Mikki’s side.

Mya brought her team in afterward, carefully stepping over the bodies. Crazy Joe tripped over one, landed on his face, and started freaking out. Mya smacked him on the helmet hard with the butt end of her machine gun and he calmed down a bit, but he was still jumpy. She kicked him out and told him to stay with Jack’s group. She didn’t want him getting spooked and start shooting his own team—even if they were all wearing bullet-proof Super Zombie armor.

Floyd opened the next door and Mikki made her way down the hallway, quiet as a mouse. The lights in the hallway were all smashed. Everyone knew what that meant.

Several doors to medium-sized rooms lined each side of the hallway. The doors were all wide open. Zombies didn’t give off any heat, so the helmet vision couldn’t see any bodies through the walls. She had to peek around the corner carefully. Sure enough, there were several creepers inside.

Mikki held up a hand for everyone to stop, then moved to the door on the other side. More creatures inside that room as well. She pointed for Raul and Carlos to kneel down in the center of the hallway and pointed ahead, then signaled for Mya’s group to ready their weapons, standing behind them. It was about to get noisy in here, and that would surely bring visitors. Floyd hugged the right wall, just before the door, as Mikki pulled the pins on two grenades and threw one into each room.

A couple of seconds later, the party began. The grenades took out most of the creepers in the first two rooms, but one managed to come around through the open door to grab Floyd with one hand (the other arm had been blown off in the grenade explosion. Floyd managed to kick the thing far enough away to aim and blow its head off.

Mikki and the rest started firing down the hallway as occupants from the other rooms came out to see what the fuss was all about. It took only a second or two for them to sense the presence of living flesh and head straight for the newbie warriors. Bullets ripped through the hallway as soon as they began appearing, but several managed to get pretty close, before being dropped by someone with a gun.

For many of the Freedom Fighters, this was their first real encounter with a crowd of zombies in close quarters. Others had similar experiences in the past, and spent months or years trying to forget. For some, however, the adrenaline hit them like a brick and kicked them into high gear. In any case, the training certainly paid off, as they managed to shoot the zombies and not each other. They picked their targets, aimed, and fired with precision. They had all passed their first exam.