Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (61 page)

I looked down to the street.

Slovoth was beating the hell out of the goons with a big-ass wrench.
The oafs were all on the ground, all on their faces, shivering in
pools of their own filth, scalps dark and bloody. Slovoth was riding
someone's back, sitting on them, hammering away at the back of their
head. Slovoth looked exhausted, sounding like he had asthma. He heard
Lynn moaning again as she tried to swim across the canal. He pointed
his wrench at her and began screaming at her – screaming
hateful things. A canoe filled with kids floated by the van. They
were all on their cell phones, and I just kept thinking,
Dammit.
The cops!

Slovoth jumped in the water, and Lynn turned around, making her way
back to the van. I went back down and opened the toolbox and took out
a hammer. The holy psychic and the doctor were naked and doing normal
things. They ignored me. I put the hammer between my teeth and
reached up and climbed out. What I saw next shattered my insides. If
this were the movies, the camera would've zoomed in fast on my face
to showcase my horrified reaction.

Slovoth was strangling Lynn, forcing her head under the water. He
cried while he worked.

I jumped down and swam toward them (amazing, because I didn't know
how to swim).

Slovoth, blinded by his rage, by his strangling, didn't notice me
come right up and swing that hammer upside his Russian head. I gave
it all I had – ALL MY POWER – yelling out as I did so.
Something flew out of his face, and I think it was an eyeball. I
jumped on him and made a real mess of his face. Slovoth made a sound
like a baby and splashed on the water, sinking, sinking.

I dragged Lynn to the street and gave her CPR, pumping her chest,
doing all the things I saw people do in the movies. Tourists were on
the sidewalks, staring. I yelled at them for help, but they just
stood there, stupid. A legless woman on one of those motorized carts
rode up.

“I just called the cops!” she was crying. “Oh,
God!”

I said, “Thanks,” and held Lynn's head close to my ear.

Nothing.

I said her name over and over. She wasn't moving or anything. Her
hands were cold...limbs lifeless. I did the thing where I checked for
her pulse on her neck and wrist (both wrists), but I couldn't feel
anything, couldn't feel a pulse. Was I even doing it right?? Her eyes
were open, and that wasn't good. Police sirens again, getting close.
I could see their lights. The itch to flee consumed me.

I didn't want to leave her side. I said something...whispered
something.

Wish I could
remember
what that was.

When I went home, the place was swimming with cops. I hid in the
bushes, shaking, scared. It was strange. All I wanted to do then was
kill zombies. Just run away and kill as many zombies as possible.
Nauseous. The police lights made me wanna throw up.

Two cops were holding a little girl's hands, walking her into a
police car.

It was Shells.

She wasn't crying. In fact, she looked strong...confident.

I wanted to run over and steal her away, but my legs wouldn't work. I
was too afraid. So I just stayed there, staring at her from behind
those bushes, just looking, until – one by one – all
those cops drove away and the sun started coming up from behind the
ocean. Shells's car was the last to leave the scene.

She didn't even see me.

Figuring the condo would've been sealed off and all that jazz, I ran
to the hills – ran and climbed back up to my old home: Todd's
house in the woods. The place still held up pretty well. Water was
still running, and my room was still in a good state. Cobwebs covered
everything. I wiped them off my bed and went to sleep for a very long
time. Some days I just stayed in bed, listening to the sounds of the
woods – of birds singing and insects crawling next to my ear
and various little animals doing whatever out by the window.

When got hungry, I went out and killed a rat or something and cooked
and ate. When I got thirsty, I went down to the “drinking
place” and drank. Todd had made this contraption that filtered
rain water, turned it into the best damn drinking water ever. He was
a bit paranoid about the government discovering his invention, so he
hid it a little ways from the house. It was worth the walk; always
gave me time to think.

And on those hikes up, I'd think about Lynn, think about Shells,
Nora, and all those exorcisms I did. Sometimes, Slovoth would pop
into my mind, and I'd get so angry, I'd punch a tree. The birds all
up in them would cry out and fly away, and I'd always be saying
sorry
to them.

Days turned into months.

Months into years.

No zombies to be seen in those times up in the woods. At first I was
crazy-lonely, but then, for some odd reason, I started getting used
to it. I guess people just adjust. I never went down to town. I
wanted nothing to do with them folks down there in the
world
.
I don't know why. I just felt...embarrassed. Oh, and I was sure the
cops were all looking for me.

Or were they?

Maybe they forgot about me.

Maybe they were too busy dealing with demons and gangster Popes.

One dark and stormy night, I heard a moaning outside my window. I sat
up and came face-to-face with a woman! She had no eyes, and I
realized she wasn't normal. She was a zombie – a member of the
walking dead. She reached in – she was all slow – and
tried to get me. I smiled and walked outside to greet her –
walked out into the rain and thunder.

“Hi!” I said.

The woman had an arrow sticking out of her head. Reminded me of those
joke hats you find in magic stores. Arms still in the window, digging
around, she looked over her shoulder and groaned at me. Centipedes
lived in her eye sockets. I walked closer...shy.

“Boy, so good to see another person up here. I've been so
lonely, you have no idea. What's your name? Why is there an arrow
through your head?”

The zombie walked towards me. I backed away.

“Don't you have anything to say?”

She groaned. One of her knees was busted. I picked up a stick and
kept the zombie at a safe distance, poking her stomach.

“What happened to you? What did you do before you became dead?
What's your story?”

The zombie opened her mouth, and water come out, then dark goo. And
it was like I could read her mind. I can't explain it.

Kill me,
was what she was thinking.
Kill me
now...pleeeeeeaaaasssse,
she thought.
Save me.

That last part struck a chord with me.

Save me.

I never thought of it that way before. So, nodding, I ran up, grabbed
her head, and yanked it free. The shoulders went up and down, like
she was dancing. The body wobbled and tripped over its feet and fell
into a mud puddle. Very loud lightning then, I remember. Bright
flashes from the clouds, tearing the sky in two. As for the head, I
banged it against a rock a few times. That did the trick. It cracked
open like a coconut.

I got a sense that something...something invisible...something
important...flew out of her open skull...flew up and away into the
flashing sky. Somehow, I felt I had done a great thing.

I had the damnedest time sleeping that night.

My head was conjuring ideas.

I had plans.

In the morning, I took off my clothes, wrapped a yellow towel around
my waist and walked to the stream to get all washed up. I stuck my
toe into the water, but before I could get in, I heard chatter. It
was a whole group of Filipinos. They carried spears, bows and arrows,
and signs that read, “Zombies, go home!” and, “Kill
all Zombies!” A few of them Filipinos, lagging behind, pulled a
large cage on wheels. Inside were dead zombies and zombie parts. A
sign on the cage said, “Troublemakers”. It was written in
Papyrus font, which graphic artists would argue to be the world's
ugliest font, but I digress.

They all walked up to me, and I expected them to speak in broken
English, but I was wrong. Their boss shook my hand.

“Good evening, my good man,” the Filipino said with his
Canadian accent. “Seen any zombies around?”

I smiled.

“Sure did,” I said. “Matter of fact, I killed one
recently. She had an arrow through her head.”

A man ran up to me and fell to his knees. He cried, hands together in
prayer.

“That was my wife!”

I jumped back, ready to fight. The man crawled to me and held my
hands – kissed my palms.

“Thank you for
freeing
her,” he wept. “Thank
you, thank you!”

The boss nodded to me.

“You're a damn good man,” he said. “Most are too
afraid to even get NEAR the walking dead, let alone massacre one.”

“It's no problem for me,” I said. “I'm a zombie
hunter.”

Everyone whispered to one another. Their boss looked shocked.

“That is a delight!” he said. “Where have you
been
my whole life???”

“I've
been
living out here in the woodlands,” I
says. “Been trying to get my life together; get my senses
together.”

The boss seemed to understand.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “A little alone time is always
good. Why, my life can get so noisy sometimes, I wish I could just
pack up and skedaddle into a quiet land. You're a lucky one. I
envy
you.” He said that last part with squinty eyes.

I heard wheels squeak. The crowd parted, and a muscular man,
shirtless, walked through. He was pulling a cart of dead people. A
sign on it read, “Dead people”. People cried as the cart
went through. The boss raised his hand, and the muscle man stopped
and panted, hands on his knees. The boss walked over to the cart.

“These people were our friends.”

I looked into the cart. Their friends looked like they had been
eaten
. The boss sighed.

“They tried to fight against the zombies,” he said. “They
didn't do so well. We're on our way to bury them somewhere. Not sure
where yet. Maybe under a tree. Really, I have no idea. We keep
finding bodies. It is a sad state of affairs.” He turned to me,
and I knew what he was going to say, but I didn't stop him. “We
could use someone like you,” he said. “Our forest village
could use your help.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Forest village?”

“Yes,” he said. “We live around back – on the
other side of the mountain.”

“Hmm,” I went. “I didn't know anyone lived there.
Is it a new village?”

“Been there for 3,000 years,” the boss said. “So,
no. Not new.”

I thought about it for a bit, but agreed to help them.

Besides, I saw some fine ladies in his group.

They didn't smile at me, but whatever.

I'd prove myself later.

I spent a year there, in that forest village. It was called
Triumphant Place. Population: 52. I didn't understand what the
problem was with their women. Not one looked at me. It was like they
were afraid. I once went to the grass shack of the village's resident
psychic, and she said they could smell the stink on me. I asked,
“What you mean 'stink'?” She said, “Yes, they smell
your STINK. You STINK, boy. You stink bad. You did something very bad
to a female.”

I was sitting at her wooden table, which was covered with creepy
tarot cards.

She leaned back, looking like someone was aiming a dead kitten at her
face.

“I can smell you even now. I know what
they
sniff.”
She shot off another sour look.

I didn't fully understand what she was yakking on about.

“I don't fully understand what you're yakking on about,”
I said. “I've never hurt a girl. I'm a nice guy, you stupid
cow.”

Obviously, she was getting on my nerves.

She looked irritated.

“They smell your stink, boy! Don't you understand? You're
cursed
!”

“What??”

“Whoever you hurt, put some kind of
mental
stink-curse
on you,” she said. And before I could interrupt and complain
some more, she says, “Now get! You have insulted me a great
deal. GET!”

She was a big, black woman, and she picked me off the ground and
threw me out on my ass. Her grass door slammed shut. I walked away
with my tail between my legs. The women pinched their noses as I
passed by.

One woman dropped her groceries and started getting the shakes,
sounding like a cat trying to cough up a hairball, and fell to the
mud. I tried helping her to her feet, but she kicked me away –
literally kicked me in the belly.

She ran off, and I was embarrassed. The elders sat on their
wheelchairs, shaking their heads at me in disapproval. I climbed a
tree and tried offering them mangos, but it didn't make them happier.
They just started throwing them at me.

Goddamn.

At least work was good. Since the village was built on an ancient,
Hawaiian-Filipino burial ground, zombies kept climbing up and
pestering the villagers and neighboring villages. Many jobs came my
way – all zombie hunting, and I made a good amount of money
doing it. Soon...I had enough to buy my own condo. There was no going
away party or anything like that, which made me kinda
depressed...unloved. But the boss – whose real name I never
learned – was sad to see me go. He gave me a big hug...and
kissed me on the forehead.

And then I left.

I ended up buying that same old condo.

They repainted the walls, but it still pretty much felt the same. It
felt like
home
. On that first night, I slept on the carpet and
cried. I missed Nora. I missed Lynn. I even missed those lazy-ass
hippies. And, of course, I cried for Shells. Was she happy with her
new family? Were they treating her well? Maybe they lived nearby.

So I got up and decided to look for her.

All I did was walk around – walk around the city at night.
Maybe I'd just bump into her. I didn't even know what she might've
looked like. For all I knew, she probably grew up tall and married
young. Maybe she joined a biker gang and shaved all her hairs off. I
wouldn't even recognize her. But the walk did me good. It was good to
get some cool, fresh air in my lungs. It was nice being in the city
again; being under the Honolulu city lights.