Zombies! Episode 1 - Shawn of the Dead

Zombies! Episode 1 - Shawn of the Dead

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 by Ivan Turner

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***

SHAWN
was already packed and ready
when the bell rang. Then he was out the door and heading for the
staircase without looking back. It wasn't as if he didn't like Mr.
Arrick or his class. There was something about classic literature
that actually appealed to him. And learning it from a Scottish guy
seemed to make it more real. But the school day was long and he had
to be home before five o'clock, which gave him very little time to
spend with Marcus.

Shawn thundered down the stairs before most
of the other classrooms had spilled their occupants out into the
hallways. That was the way he thought about it, the time of passing
between classes. After eating so many students, the classrooms
finally got sick and puked up the contents of their
stomachs
. When meant that everyone in the school, Shawn
included, was just some disgusting vomitous chunk.

He needed to spend less time coming up with
metaphors and more time thinking about Marcus.

At twenty three, Marcus was five years older
than Shawn. That didn't really bother Shawn. He could do as he
pleased. He wasn't sure how it would sit with his parents, though.
Of course, the fact that he was dating a man would probably
overshadow the age difference in their eyes. His mom would be okay
with it, he knew. She was pretty open minded, having been taught
the lessons of hatred as a child. But his dad would blow a gasket.
My son?! A queer?!

Yeah, that wouldn't be so good.

On the Brooklyn streets at last, Shawn made a
quick pace for the subway. It wouldn't do for him to be seen by his
friends, some of which may have skipped their last class and
waited. As it was, they would wonder what happened to him. If they
caught up to him, he'd never be able to get away. A simple lie
could go horribly wrong and he
definitely
couldn't tell them
the truth. He had an image to maintain. One that kept him
healthy.

Once out of sight of the school, he began to
feel better. The train station was about six blocks away but it
only took two blocks to clear the area of delis and pizza and
Chinese places that the rest of the kids frequented. He was a
regular at the pizza place and waved to the guy behind the counter
as he passed. Shawn wondered if the guy owned the place. He
wondered if his hopes fell when Shawn walked by without stopping in
for a slice. Just how important was that two dollars and twenty
five cents?

Three blocks from the school and three blocks
from the train station and Shawn quickened his pace again. It was
hot out, especially for a September day, but he'd be able to cool
off in the air conditioned subway car. He always missed the train
by seconds. Granted, he only had to wait about three or four
minutes for the next one, but that didn't do anything to dull the
frustration he felt when he'd hit stairs only to hear,
Stand
clear of the closing doors, please
from the platform below.

Four blocks from the school and two blocks
from the train station and he saw the zombie.

The sidewalk wasn't that busy but there was
always traffic moving through the streets. As soon as the zombie
came into view, Shawn was focused on it, though, and everything
else faded. Even thoughts of Marcus slipped away. It came shuffling
around the corner, close to the wall, still almost a full block
away. Shawn couldn't see its face and couldn't smell its odor and
yet he knew, he just
knew
what he was looking at.

The zombie had been a man, a white guy. Its
hair was black or at least dark brown. Even at this distance, Shawn
could see that its pallor had gone from the normal peach tone to a
ghoulish sort of grey. The arms hung at the sides, moving only with
the jerky momentum of the body rather than the careful rhythm of a
human being. It wore a coat. It had to be close to eighty five
degrees, sunny as it could get, but the thing wore a long rain
coat. Shawn couldn't get a good look at the clothing beneath but he
was pretty sure it was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt.

What struck him the most about it was that
there was no blood. Kind of like the guy at the beginning of
Night of the Living Dead
. You know, in the cemetery? He
could have been a person if it weren't for the complexion and the
way he walked, the way he just bounced off the wall. There were no
wounds. This thing had yet to kill and it hadn't been killed by
another zombie. That meant it was the first. Shawn
knew
it
was the first.

Every few steps, someone would come into
Shawn's range of focus, close to the zombie but not close enough
for it to take notice. They seemed to wrinkle their noses and give
it a wide berth but gave it no further consideration. This, if
nothing else, jarred Shawn out of his reverie.

Doesn't anyone realize what that thing
is?

A block and half from the train station and
his ticket to Marcus, Shawn stopped. On his left was a stone
building with glass doors and no windows. On his right was a giant
pile of trash including bags and furniture and paper and various
articles of mayhem. Beyond that the traffic. And ahead of him was
the zombie.

And the woman.

Shawn saw her even before he gave thought to
how he was going work out his passing of the zombie himself. The
woman was also a white woman, somewhere in her upper forties,
dressed for the office, and totally engrossed in the small screen
of her smart phone. She was also oblivious of the impending danger.
Smart phone. Stupid woman.

By the time she got close enough that she
could no longer ignore the smell she was already too close. The
zombie caught her scent and pounced. It grabbed the arm with the
smart phone and, with the strength of the truly famished, pulled it
right to its rotten teeth.

The zombie bit down hard.

The woman screamed.

She did
not
drop the smart phone.

Shawn's bag was off his shoulders in an
instant and he reached out for a length of pipe sticking from the
pile of garbage. It came free, one jagged end jutting away from the
boy. Rushing forward, he used his momentum to drive the pipe into
the gut of the zombie.

Now there was blood.

Shawn had never hurt anyone before. Well,
that wasn't entirely true. He'd grown up in a culture of fist
fights but had somehow managed to avoid anything that included
knives, broken bottles, and most especially guns. The feeling of
the pipe entering the body was weird. He'd expected a sucking
feeling, like the blood and tissue gripping the pipe, but that
didn't occur. Instead, it felt like stabbing a pillow filled with
rotten lettuce. The dead tissue inside the zombie didn't react to
the intrusion of the pipe the way live tissue would. The dead
tissue hardly reacted at all.

Because of Shawn's running start, the zombie
was knocked away from the woman. It took with it a chunk of her arm
but left behind the pipe. There was gore dripping off of the end of
it but Shawn didn't take the time to notice. Adjusting his grip, he
stepped forward and swung it down like a billy club just as the
zombie was raising its head in recovery. Forged metal met hair and
flesh and bone, all dead and desiccated. Now destroyed. The zombie
went down like a paper doll, its skull caved in and its undeath at
an end.

Still holding the dripping pipe, Shawn turned
to the victim. She was bleeding badly, the smart phone gripped
tightly in her bloodless hand. She was mumbling something about
911
when he came to his decision. Saying a silent and
righteous prayer, he brought the pipe to bear once again.

***

STEMMY
let Anthony drive. It was one
of the reasons they were a good fit as partners. Anthony liked to
drive and Stemmy didn't. Anthony would sit in the driver's seat,
the window open in the most frigid weather, a lit cigarette in his
left hand. He always used the driving time to smoke. He didn't like
to smoke in front of the perps and he didn't like to smoke in front
of the victims. But he always smoked in the car.

It wasn't just the driving. As detectives,
each of the two of them possessed different skills. Stemmy was
extremely intelligent with tremendous powers of observation. He'd
notice if a button had come undone or a speck of dust had landed on
your tie. Anthony was the charming one. He was tall and handsome
with a shaved head and a meticulously groomed goatee. He somehow
never smelled of cigarette smoke despite constant abuse of the
habit. Stemmy was shorter, fatter, and dumpier. He was good in a
fight. Despite the fact that his body type precluded any sort of
muscular definition, his arms were solid as rocks and if those
fists flew someone was getting hurt.

Stemmy was getting on in years. He was forty
nine and had been a policeman for twenty seven years. He'd joined
the force after graduating college with a degree in psychology that
he felt was pretty useless at the time. Sure he could have become a
therapist, helped people face down their problems, but that sounded
pretty boring. The last thing he wanted to do was sit hour after
hour and listen to someone bitch and moan. God had punished him for
that attitude. In His mystical wisdom he had seen fit to grant
Stemmy and his wife four daughters. Now it wasn't that Stemmy
didn't love his daughters. Each one of them was a priceless pearl.
And his wife was a gem, a tireless policeman's wife who always
greeted him with a smile and waited until he had shrugged off the
rigors of the day before presenting to him the problems of the
household. But living with five women would make any man crazy.
After all, not a one of them made a bit of sense.

Stemmy's given name was Johan. His mother had
been from the Dominican Republic, a strong Spanish woman with
fierce values. She had raised him with two hands, one firm and one
tender. His father, Arthur Stemmy, was from somewhere in Europe. He
had an accent that even Stemmy himself couldn't identify. When his
mother had passed, poor old Arthur had lost a true step. He was a
shadow of himself these days.

Anthony took one last long drag on the
cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. That meant that they
were almost there. He coughed once betraying the inner turmoil in
his gut. He'd been to the doctor, Stemmy knew, but wouldn't say any
more about it. A smoker like that just screams cancer, though. It
had Stemmy worried. The last thing he wanted was for Anthony to
have to go through that misery.

They pulled up next to a curb littered with
garbage. Four patrol cars and a forensics van were already on the
scene. He took in the scene as quickly as he could. The place was
cordoned off with police tape. Both automobile and foot traffic
were being diverted away from the area. With two black body bags
laying on the sidewalk amidst a variety of stains, they didn't need
spectators. The
suspect
sat in the back of one of the patrol
cars. His hands were cuffed to the bar but he didn't struggle with
them. He just leaned back, relaxing as if everything was proper. He
was just a kid.

"Detectives!" one of the officers shouted as
she ran over. Stemmy didn't know her and he didn't think Anthony
did either. But a lack of familiarity couldn't stop Anthony from
putting on the charm. He went and spoke to her quickly, as if they
were equals, as if they were best friends. When he was done, he
came back over to where Stemmy was standing, observing the
scene.

There were statements from four eye
witnesses. One of the victims was male and the other female.
According to all four accounts, the male victim had attacked the
female victim and the suspect had intervened, braining the male.
Then he'd abruptly turned and finished off the female victim.

The two detectives went over to the patrol
car where the youth was sitting calmly. Anthony summoned the same
officer he'd spoken to before.