ZOMBIE'S DOOM? "Chronicles of Jack Doom" (43 page)

"Enough of this banter!" Beth insisted, as she forcefully drove the toe of her shoe into the Sarge's rib cage one more time.

"Okay, you talked me into it darling, if you would be so kind as to fetch me that bottle of hooch out of my pack, we'll get this party started."

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SERGEANT

"Well, well, the conundrum begins," I said, as Beth handed me the whiskey bottle.

"Which conundrum is that?" she asked.

"Where to start," I answered, unscrewing the bottle cap. "That's the dilemma we face."

"I know, Sarge you better have a drink before they get started, I think you're going to need it," Derek added, not realizing that the bottle of whiskey that I had in my hand was no ordinary alcoholic beverage.

"Excellent suggestion, I'd take his advice if I were you Sarge," I stressed, holding the bottle up to the ex-marines mouth.

"I don't need your booze!" the Sarge spewed defiantly.

"Well, if you change your mind, you just let Beth know, okay?" I told him, as I pulled the tainted drink away from his mouth and handed the bottle of liquor to Beth.

"Fuck him, let him suffer," Beth said, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. "Just like he let me suffer. Fuck him."

I grabbed the bottle out of Beth's hand and removed the cap.

"I changed my mind, he's going to take a drink, he just doesn't know it yet," I said, as I again pushed the bottle toward the Sarge's mouth.

The Sarge's attempt to avoid the contaminated liquid was futile as I stuffed the neck of the whiskey bottle into my old friend's mouth and crammed it half way down his chicken-shit throat.

"You do what I say, and I say you take a drink!"

The sergeant choked and gagged, and spit up about half of the whiskey that I poured down his gullet, but swallowed enough to render him unconscious moments later.

"Shit Jack, what is that stuff?" Derek asked, pointing to the whiskey bottle.

"Just a little Mickey juice I picked up down in Arkansas," I answered. "Three hillbillies I met had no more use for it, and I thought it might come in handy sometime so I took it with me when I parted company with them."

"What were you thinking Jack?" Beth fumed. "Now we're going to have to wait for him to wake up again before we can continue."

"I don't think so darling," I said, as I patted her on the butt. "He's going to feel one hell of a lot of pain when he wakes up, watch this."

I pulled out my tomahawk and drenched it with some of the tainted booze to kill off any zombie germs that might be lingering on the blade, and then I began to peel the skin off the bottom of the Sarge's right foot from where his toes attached clear down to the back of his heel.

"I think a quarter inch of flesh should do the trick," I claimed.

"You think?" Derek asked. "A quarter inch of skin is all that's on the bottom of his feet, you've exposed the bones."

"Opps! I'll be more careful on his left foot," I promised, as I placed my hatchet at the base of his toes.

"I can't watch this," Jolene proclaimed, turning her back on the sergeant.

"I can!" Beth asserted with a smile, as she knelt down beside me. "What's next after this foot?"

"Well we don't want to mutilate him to the point where he gets gnawed on by eaters as soon as he goes out in the open," I answered. "What fun would that be? Pour a little of that whiskey over his wounds, we wouldn't want him to get an infection."

Beth slopped some alcohol onto the Sarge's feet then recapped the bottle.

"That should do it," she affirmed.

"Keep that bottle handy, we've only begun to teach this ass hole a lesson," I said, moving up to the Sarge's head.

"He's not only going to be hobbling around through the apocalypse, he's going to be scaring the fucking shit out of everyone he meets along the way," I explained. "When I get done with him, not even Jolene will want to fuck him."

"I turned my head, I didn't cover my ears," Jolene began to rant.

"Okay, my mistake, I'm sorry," I said, interrupting her before she got up to speed. "You probably will still want to fuck him."

Derek burst out laughing, as did Beth and I, Jolene couldn't remain angry and began to laugh as well. After all, she knew better than anybody did about her whoring ways, and she knew that I was probably right.

"Let me borrow that little pig sticker you carry, but sterilize it with the whiskey first," I said, grabbing the Sarge's red hair and pulling it back to expose his hairline.

Beth did as I asked and unfolded her pocketknife, doused it with whiskey and handed it to me.

I drug the small knife along the Sarge's hairline, making a deep incision all the way down to the bone as I went. When the blade reached the opposite side of the man's head from where I had started the cut, I tugged on the clump of hair that was clasped in my hand, and peeled his scalp back and away from his skull as if I were skinning a wild animal that I had hunted down and killed.

As Beth watched me scalp the man that had beaten her so many times in the past, a stern look gradually melted over her face.

"You should have done that to him while he was awake"

"He would never hold still enough for me to make such a precise cut if he were awake," I replied, snipping in two the remaining skin that held the scalp to the head. "Besides, he'll feel plenty of pain when the drug wears off."

"Remind me never to cross you Jack, I've become accustom to my hair," Derek broke in running his fingers through his hair. "And let's face it, your barbering skills leave a little to be desired."

Jolene unable to resist the temptation finally turned around and looked at the Sarge.

"Holy fuck, shit," she gasped. "You've really fucked him up."

"He's not done yet, are you Jack," Beth assured her calmly.

"Not even close," I answered. "Jolene, sweetie, instead of standing there turning green, see if you can find some more booze, I don't want to use all of this drugged whiskey sterilizing shit."

"Watch your mouth Jack, don't pat me on the butt, and then call her sweetie," Beth warned, replacing her stern look with one of false cheerfulness.

I took Beth's warning to heart, not wanting to piss her off. After all, not counting the mutilated carcass of the Sarge, which was tied to the legs of the dining room table, there were two girls and two boys in the house, and it was beginning to look as if Beth had chosen the partner she wanted to spend the rest of Armageddon with.

Remembering what Derek had told the Sarge about scrubbing up the girls, before doing some serious partying, I revisited for the umpteenth time, the vision of what I imagined Beth's naked body to look like (it was difficult not to with that little blonde's cute butt wiggling in front of me constantly), and spending the rest of the Zombie Apocalypse with her began to look quite appealing to me.

I decided to make my first and probably my last attempt at playing matchmaker for the group, so I suggested.

"Derek, why don't you go help her find some more whiskey, or vodka, or something. I don't know how long this
anal opening
is going to stay asleep, and I would like to be finished with his makeover before he wakes up."

"Roger that boss," Derek giddily replied, as he and Jolene trotted into the next room in search of more alcohol.

I figured Derek wouldn't mind being paired with Jolene, she was an attractive woman with a more than adequate set of mammary glands hanging on her chest, plus she had a track record of sharing her assets. What's not to like?

It wasn't long before the two of them returned to the dining area.

"We found some, there's more in the other room, but these two had the most alcohol percentage in them," Derek said, handing me a bottle of 151 rum.

"You keep it," I said. "Sterilize that meat cleaver of yours and let me borrow it for a minute."

Jolene began to hang on Derek's shoulders as he soaked his cleaver with the rum.

Even though as far as we knew, the house we were in, along with the immediate vicinity was still surrounded by feral dogs and feral zombies going at each other's throats, our desire for companionship was strong.

The lack of human touch the apocalypse had deprived us all of (except for Jolene of course), had begun to take its toll on everyone, so even a small amount of touchy feely grabbing, patting, and cuddling with the opposite sex was a welcome and much needed reminder that we were still human. And no amount of zombies, feral canines, rogue humans, or anything else traipsing around the neighborhood or the wasteland beyond, was going to stifle that primal need.

"Here Jack, it's more sterile than a nun's cunt," Derek said proudly, as he handed me his favorite butchers utensil still dripping with rum.

"Okay, I've got to ask. What's with you and nun's cunts?" I asked, giggling, as Jolene blushed.

"Oh, my mother was a nun!" Derek answered not skipping a beat.

"Eeeewwwuu!" Beth and Jolene sang out in unison.

"Okay, well I guess that explains it then," I said, smiling and shaking my head in disbelief.

The Sarge was tied spread eagle to the legs of the wooden table, bound at his wrists and ankles, each of his limbs lashed tightly to their respective post.

"Beth honey, could you please hold this fuck's index finger up against the wood like this?" I asked politely, holding the tip of his finger and pressing it to the table leg."I don't think he's going to have any use for this trigger finger."

Beth took the Sarge's finger, pressed it hard against the leg of the table, and held it firmly on the wooden pillar his wrist was tied to.

One good well placed swipe of Derek's meat cleaver, and the index finger on the Sarge's right hand was lopped off just past the second knuckle.

"Jolene, pull one of the boot laces from this asshole's boots, we'll use it for a tourniquet," Beth ordered, tossing her a boot.

"You better take both of them off, I'm going to chop off his other index finger too," I insisted.

"Derek, see if you can find something to start a fire with, matches or butane lighter would be good," I said, while pinching off the blood flow from the bleeding stump. "And check the windows; somehow these god damn flies are getting in here."

"What do you need matches for?" Jolene asked, pulling the second lace from the boot.

"To cauterize the wounds, just like I did to that bitch that tried to kill me down by the Wolf River in Tennessee," I answered without the slightest sense of guilt. "I'm still keeping
a breast
of the situation for her."

Beth and I tied off the bleeding stub that replaced the Sarge's trigger finger, and waited for Derek to return.

It wasn't long before Derek returned with what he'd found.

"Somebody left the bedroom window open," Derek accused, knowingly looking at Beth.

"Sorry, I was concentrating more on trying to save your sorry ass than worrying about a couple of insects getting in here," Beth teased, crinkling up her nose.

"I found this propane torch out in the garage, will it do?" Derek asked, waving the torch from side to side.

"Perfect, if you brought the flint mechanism to light it?" I answered, reaching for the torch.

"Of course I did, my mama didn't raise no fool," Derek stated proudly.

"That would be your mother the nun, right?" Jolene laughed.

Derek started to respond with some of his homemade horseshit, but when he saw all of us grinning and waiting to hear his concocted answer, he just handed the flint to me and said nothing.

I lit the torch and adjusted the flame to full. Then I held the yellow portion of the fire at the end of the blue flame to the Sarge's newly formed stump and charred it until the blood turned black.

"Loosen the tourniquet slightly, and let's move on to this bastard's left hand," I ordered, setting down the torch and retrieving the meat cleaver once more.

Beth and I repeated the amputation process on the Sarge's other hand, and cauterized that wound too.