Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time, Page 8

  “I don’t have many bullets left, but sure, why not?”

  Charlie frowned. “You might attract more.”

  “Here comes Cliff’s car,” Trent said as his eyes widened. “And they’re coming in hot too.”

  This was an understatement as the Lexus had four flat tires, two busted windows and three infected madmen clinging to the top, covered-wagon style. Several hundred more trailed behind on foot.

  “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a real clown-car cluster-fuck here,” Russ said, his speech slurred and his scalp bleeding profusely. “I’m sitting this one out.”

  “Trent, you‘re up,” Mike said.

  The cop hung out the window, careful not to go as far as Russ had, and blasted away at the shambling creatures. Just then, the car rolled up with sparks jumping and road kill flying. It didn’t stop.

  The whole apartment groaned as the car slammed into the porch with a crash and tipped it over. Debris and dead bodies landed on the luxury vehicle as it was literally raining men.

  Charlie formed a hasty plan. “There’s an extension ladder on the roof that we can drop down. Rob, let’s go.”

  The two raced upstairs while Trent fired randomly, taking down a bearded man in a hospital gown and a school crossing guard. Jim and the others made their way from the wreckage but had nowhere to go.

  Charlie whistled as they lowered the heavy ladder into the alleyway.

  Jim and Blake came up in no time, but Cliff seemed to have lost a step. He finally made it to the top and then collapsed as Rob yanked the ladder up. Moments later, they gathered in the living room.

  “Any sign of the girls?” Mike asked. Jim shook his head, and Mike continued. “Russ took a beating. How did you guys do?

  “We’re in one piece, but as you can tell,” Blake said and pointed to the gray matter dripping from his clothing, “it wasn’t pretty.”

  Russ hugged him. “I always said my nephew had brains. Now it’s official.”

  “Real funny.” Blake caught a whiff of beer on his uncle’s breath and noticed the extra cans lying about. “Are you guys fucking drunk?”

  “Maybe, what’s it to you?” Russ answered. “You aren’t my probation officer last I checked.”

  “We could’ve been dead for all you knew, and you’re over here getting liquored up. Shit, we haven’t even been gone an hour.”

  Russ pointed at the wreckage. “It looks like Cliff was drinking too.”

  Charlie nodded. “He did take care of our porch problem, but what happened?”

  “I had tunnel vision or something. I think all the pressure…” Cliff’s face darkened. “You know, it would’ve gone smoother if some of you pansies hadn’t stayed behind.”

  Bruce realized the frat brothers seriously outnumbered them and tried to calm his friend. “Take a breather, you did good. Everybody’s on edge.” He pointed at Blake’s garbage bag. “What’s that?”

  “We grabbed some food.” Blake turned to Mike. “And we got a special surprise for you.” He expected to hear some laughs while pulling the smashed cake out of the bag.

  “I guess we need to have a long chat,” Mike said with a wry smile.

  As Mike caught them up on the news, Cliff retreated to the bathroom to check on his throbbing arm. He took his jacket off and found two small bruises near his shoulder. The skin felt warm to the touch, and brown pus shot out when he nudged the spot. Someone knocked on the door.

  Cliff rifled through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He soaked a towel in the solution and wrapped it around his shaking arm like a tourniquet. That’s when the labor-like pains hit. His vision blurred and the banker ran to the toilet while blood oozed down his leg.

  The knocking continued while someone talked through the door, but Cliff no longer knew what words were, much less what they meant. So he simply stared at the door and waited. Hungrily.

  Chapter 15

  The Scientific Method

  “Open up Cliff, I gotta drop a deuce,” Left-Nut said and knocked on the bathroom door. “Seriously, I’ve got a turtle-head creeping here.” There was still no response. “Okay I warned you. I’m coming in.”

  Cliff surged through the opened door and blasted Left-Nut right out of his sandals. Pinned down like a lamb for the slaughter, Left-Nut somehow grasped Cliff’s throat and kept the snapping mouth at bay. Still, a life of swearing and masturbation flashed before his eyes, and there was little to be proud about.

  The others thought the two were simply goofing around, but as Left-Nut screamed like a little girl, they saw otherwise. Big Rob dove onto Cliff’s back and sunk in a tight chokehold. He carefully pressed underneath Cliff’s jaw to avoid getting bitten, and held the much smaller man down while Left-Nut scurried away.

  Bruce grabbed a plunger from the bathroom and shoved it in front of his friend’s chomping mouth. Cliff promptly crunched into the wood and shattered his front teeth into Tic-Tacs while the others jumped into the struggle with fists, feet, duct tape and Trent’s handcuffs.

  The cop put his pistol to the struggling man’s head as the cuffs carved deeply into Cliff’s fleshy wrists. Blake angrily batted the gun away. “That’s Cliff. You can’t just shoot him.”

  “Watch me.” Trent readied to fire once more.

  “Bring him to the roof,” Mike said, taking charge of the chaotic situation. Despite Trent’s objections, they carried the squirming man out and firmly fastened him to an antenna overlooking the street. Strange as it was, his day was only going to get worse as the group smoked cigarettes and nervously pondered their next step.

  “Somebody pull his pants up at least,” Blake said.

  Left-Nut shook his head. “No thanks. He’s got bloody shit all over his legs and besides, he tried to eat me.”

  “Fine.” Blake did the dirty deed himself and gagged as he caught a whiff of the noxious odor.

  “It’s pretty obvious what we’re dealing with here,” Russ said and paused to take a long drag. He exhaled. “God-damned zombies.”

  Charlie threw his hands up. “Have another beer.”

  “What would you call them, Chuck? They are eating people. If it looks like a zombie and quacks like a zombie, it’s a zombie.”

  Smokey disagreed. “No, they don’t seem to be undead. You know, like vampires or ghouls and the like.” He put his arm around Cliff and ruffled his hair. “Take our friend here. He didn’t go after Left-Nut’s brains for starters, which would have been a typical zombie response. And secondly, Russ, how do zombies always die in movies?”

  “You shoot ‘em in the head. Blow their brains out.”

  “And we’ve seen they can be killed like normal people, so that means—”

  “You dumbasses might as well be arguing about how many angels fit on the head of a pin,” Trent said. “Blah, blah, blah. It doesn’t matter what you call them. All I know is, this one’s about to learn a valuable lesson about the circle of life.”

  “Oh give it a rest, tough guy.” Mike stepped between Trent and his target once more. “We need to study Cliff to see what he’s capable of. Then we’ll know how to deal with these… these things.”

  “Zombies,” Russ added with emphasis.

  “Maybe they can starve or get diseases,” Mike said. “Hell, they might all freeze to death in the winter for all we know. Cliff can be our guinea pig.”

  Trent still wasn’t convinced. “What, you think you’re the Jane Goodall of zombies or something?”

  “This might be the difference between life and death for us,” Mike said firmly.

  “It makes sense,” Charlie added. Everyone with the exception of Left-Nut and Trent agreed, so Cliff, or what was left of him, would continue to exist for now.

  “Back to the movies,” Russ said. “Every time a zombie gets spared, like this one right here, it always kills someone when they least expect it.”

  “Get to the point,” Blake said.

  “In this scenario, as I intend to be drunk all the time, and
I’m pretty fucked up right now, I’d guess it’s gonna be me. So, if we’re not gonna kill it, can we at least make it less dangerous? Kind of give me a sporting chance.”

  “I’m on it,” Trent said nonchalantly and wandered back inside, emerging minutes later with rubber gloves, a cordless drill and a pair of rusty needle nose pliers. The macabre day got even more so as he ripped the duct tape from Cliff’s mouth while the blistering sun beat down and the ice cream song played in the background.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” Trent said. “The good news is there’s no co-pay. The bad news is there’s no painkiller. Say ah.”

  The cop chuckled at his own clichéd joke and jabbed the whirring drill into Cliff’s mouth. A wet, crackling noise arose as blood and bits of tooth whizzed about, flung by the rotation of the drill. Trent fished around with the pliers and plucked out several mangled teeth, dropping them one at a time into a beer can.

  “You really are a sadistic son of a bitch,” Blake said and clinched his fists.

  “I wanted to put him out of his misery, remember?”

  Russ walked over. “I don’t think he’s feeling anything, see?” He put his cigarette out on Cliff’s face, and the tied up man didn’t even blink.

  Left-Nut kicked Cliff in the groin, just to be sure. He didn’t flinch.

  “See? We already learned something important,” Mike said. “They don’t feel pain.”

  “We also know Zombie Cliff won’t be having kids,” Left-Nut said.

  Blake gave Left-Nut a “shut the fuck up” look, and he did. Russ and Trent, however, continued to torment Cliff and started tossing empty beer cans at his head.

  Meanwhile, Bruce decided to suck up to the others since he was now the odd man out. He needed to do it quickly, though, as they appeared to be heading for a real Lord of the Flies scenario. “Rob, that was some chokehold you used there. You’ll have to show it to me sometime.”

  “Sure,” Rob said, proceeding to choke him unconscious before he even had time to protest. Bruce’s limp body crumpled to a heap on the ground.

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Charlie said and slapped Bruce awake.

  This idiocy was the last straw for Blake. “I’m going in.” He looked at Cliff. “Sorry, buddy, you deserved better.” Then, glaring at the others he added, “You assholes will regret this when you sober up.”

  Russ shrugged. “Who said anything about sobering up?”

  Chapter 16

  Rules, Regulations and Rejects

  The sun sank below the horizon and the gang’s drunken bravado went with it. As darkness crept in and the wails of the dying rang across the city, the friends gathered like scared boy scouts crowded around a campfire. Only the monsters lurking in the shadows were real, and they were hungry. So the men focused on what they could control, which, as it turned out, wasn’t much.

  “The way I see it, we need to set ground rules if we’re gonna survive till help comes,” Mike said while surveying Charlie’s trashed living room. The triple whammy of body odor, desperation and Cliff’s diarrhea lingered like an unwelcome guest.

  “What help?” Bruce said. “We’re toast and you know it.”

  “Regardless, Mike’s right,” Charlie said. “What do you have in mind?”

  “For starters, we need to have a food czar so that—”

  “Hold on a minute there, Fidel.” Russ’s face darkened. “I didn’t spend a year knee-deep in muddy rice paddies and slant-eyes so that—”

  Blake rose to his feet. “Dammit, you weren’t in Vietnam! You were like ten years old, you fuckin’ liar. Shut up for once and let Mike speak.”

  “Czar just means boss. Let’s just say we need a food boss, okay?” Russ nodded and Mike continued. “I nominate myself because, well, you guys are all dumbasses compared to me. Anyone disagree?” Nobody did. “Good. I did a quick inventory of the fridge here and the one upstairs, and it isn’t good. We’ll need to start rationing. Like yesterday.”

  “I could use a bite to eat, now that you’ve mentioned it. What’ve we got?” Rob asked, his stomach grumbling.

  “Stale ramen noodles, ketchup, mustard, two boxes of cereal, and the food you guys snagged from Jen’s place.”

  “That’s it?” Bruce said. “Seriously, does Gandhi do your grocery shopping? Rob’s probably got more food stuck between his teeth.”

  “Why cook when I can pay a wetback five bucks for a greasy sack of meat and cheese?” Trent asked. “And I know it’ll be damn tasty too.”

  Mike shook his head. “Pissing on sleeping bums and trading speeding tickets for dates is fine, but cooking’s beneath you?”

  “Sorry, but cereal’s all I had,” Smokey added and gazed at his feet. “Charlie and I always order Thai food or pizza.” He conveniently left out the sizeable stash of stoner food and pot tucked behind a velvet portrait of Al Pacino in his living room. That, he would save for a rainy day.

  “I think it’s time for fatty to go on a diet,” Bruce said, still ablaze over the choking incident. “I bet he could go two weeks without food and still be a total lard-ass.”

  “Maybe I’ll eat your share, you little shit,” Rob replied, showing an uncharacteristic flash of anger. Food was the one thing he took seriously.

  “Everybody gets the same share, and I’ll be making the portions,” Mike said, trying to defuse the situation before Bruce got stomped. “With the eight of us eating almost nothing, we have about three days of food.”

  Russ arched an eyebrow. “I think the real question is how much booze do we have?”

  “A ton, but I wouldn’t drink it. Alcohol dehydrates you, and who knows how long the water will keep coming out of the tap. Then we’ll have to catch rainwater.”

  “You might as well tell a fish not to swim,” Blake said, and his uncle nodded in agreement. At least the man knew his limitations.

  “We can fill the bottles and the bathtub with water, and the kiddie pool too,” Jim said.

  “That’s a great idea,” Mike said. “Now that we’ve covered food and water, we should talk about ways to prevent another Cliff-type situation.”

  “When Vidu got bit, he changed quickly, same as Mrs. Stone downstairs,” Charlie said.

  Mike pursed his lips. “Cliff definitely had bite marks on his arm, but it barely broke the skin. That might be why it took him so long to turn.”

  “And Vidu was ripped to shreds,” Charlie said.

  “It seems the worse the bite, the quicker the infection spreads. Must be the saliva or even bacteria in the mouth. It could be in the blood for all we know,” Mike said, thinking out loud.

  “Sounds like turbo-rabies or Super-AIDS or something,” Left-Nut said.

  “No, Super-AIDS is what you caught last night,” Charlie quipped. “But seriously, I don’t know what’s crazier, the zombie apocalypse or the fact you banged a crippled girl. I bet you’re literally the biggest scumbag left on the planet.”

  Left-Nut shrugged. “Judge me however you want, I could care less. A piece of ass is a piece of ass. But remind me, who gave you that black eye again? Oh yeah, you got pimp-slapped…by a pimp. Real classy.”

  Mike cleared his throat. “We can all agree Left-Nut’s a creeper, and yes, Charlie had sex with a hooker last night, but let’s stay on topic. We need a protocol to check for bites after anyone leaves the apartment. Something we do every single time.”

  “Leave the apartment? You first,” Bruce said.

  “The reality is that we’re gonna have to get food soon, or else…” Mike’s words trailed off.

  “So what do you have in mind? Like, a quarantine or something?” Charlie said. “I’ll tell you right now, I’m not getting tied up. I saw what happened to Cliff.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a strip search, you know, just a quick check for bites.”

  Trent faked a laugh. “The gay-wad wants us all to get naked, imagine that. Undressing me with your eyes not enough anymore, Liberace?”

  But the
others agreed to the plan, and it was settled. Anyone returning to the apartment would get checked without exception. What happened to those bitten was still up for grabs, but a chilling precedent had been made.

  The guys got to work and Jim filled beer bottles with water while Russ emptied them of beer. Meanwhile, Rob and Charlie hung black bed sheets over the windows to hide their homemade electricity. People no longer manned the power stations, and it was only a matter of time before a rolling blackout made the dingy three-flat the hottest property in town.

  Minutes later, the busy work stopped as the sounds of breaking glass and screams came from the kitchen. Charlie ran in to see Blake convulsing on the floor while Left-Nut cowered underneath the table. Charlie pressed Blake’s head down while he frothed and squirmed.

  “I guess we should have done that strip-search after all,” Trent said while un-holstering his pistol. “I promise he won’t feel a thing.”

  “Put that down before you hurt somebody,” Mike said while pulling a shiny silver chain out of Blake’s pocket. He examined it and breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Blake’s not infected. He’s diabetic.”

  Chapter 17

  The Eagle Flies at Midnight

  The massive Boeing 747-200B series aircraft cut through the cloudless night sky as it had countless times before. However, the view thirty thousand feet below Air Force One was unlike any since the birth of electricity. Darkness dominated the landscape for hundreds of miles in every direction as massive blackouts rolled across the Midwest.

  The only light came from the out of control fires now consuming cities and towns, block by block, house by house. Some had been started to contain the infected while others emanated from ruptured gas mains, crashed vehicles, downed power lines and dropped cigarettes.

  The mayhem below led to some other firsts in American history. To begin with, Senator Sanders, the President pro tempore of the Senate, had recently taken the oath of office. Such an odd chain of succession came after Marine One crashed into the Potomac, the vice president died from a massive heart attack, and the Speaker of the House was eaten on the steps of the Capital Building. The brand new president quickly found himself managing over the fate of the entire world.