Clickers vs Zombies (2 page)

“You’d think they would,” Keoni said. He took a sip of beer. “I surf this beach every morning and they always close it down whenever there’s jellyfish or sharks in the area. Something like this…yeah, they should have closed it.”

“So do they know what this thing is that cut his arm off?” Troy asked.

“I don’t know,” Keoni said. “I don’t even think it’s hit the news yet.” He looked out at the other party-goers. “You haven’t seen anything on the news yet, have you?”

Everybody shook their heads. One of the women—she looked exactly like Keoni’s girlfriend; big hair, big tits, long legs, probably had a brain like a toaster oven—tried to offer explanation. “I saw a few people mention it on Twitter and Facebook, but not many. Everyone is talking about the tsunami instead. It’s all the news is covering. “

“They’ll be talking about that shit for the next two weeks,” somebody else said.

That much was true. Last week, an earthquake measuring 9.8 on the Richter scale centered a hundred miles off the northern coast of Australia caused a tsunami of epic proportions. While the earthquake caused no structural damage—geologists were of the opinion that it was centered about fifty miles below the ocean’s surface—the resulting tsunami’s had caused massive destruction all along the Pacific rim from Australia and New Zealand to much of the neighboring Pacific Islands, Japan, Korea, Vietnam and the eastern seaboard of Russia. Tsunamis were also reported along the US and Canadian coasts as well as Peru, Chili, Argentina, and the Mexican coast.

“So you’re saying it was like a sea scorpion?” Troy asked Keoni.

Keoni shrugged. “That’s what I heard. Thing was built like a lobster or a crab in the front but had a scorpion tail.”

Troy frowned. “That’s weird. There’s no living sea scorpions left. There was something called the Eurypterid, but it didn’t have front claws and it’s extinct.”

“A Europe-what?” Keoni asked.

Troy pronounced it for him. He suddenly realized everybody was paying attention to him, much like the jocks used to pay attention to him in class when he had spirited philosophical debates with their American Literature teacher over the merits of Saul Bellow versus Charles Bukowski. Troy successfully won that battle by pointing out all the flaws in Bellow’s work and demonstrating why Bukowski was more deserving to be remembered in the annals of American Literature. The looks he got from the student body elite clearly said,
wow, man, you’re not just a weird punk rocker dude…you’re smart too!

Brad quickly jumped in. “Troy’s majoring in archeology at UC Irvine. He’s been accepted into their PhD program.”

Keoni raised his eyebrows. “No shit! Congratulations, dude.”

“Thanks.” Troy took another sip of beer.

“So there’s no such thing as a sea scorpion?” This came from one of the other women. Unlike the others, this one was short, slightly stocky, and had long dark hair.

“No, there isn’t. Like I said, there was the Eurypterid, but they’re extinct, and they were quite big. Eight feet long or so.”

“Ewww!” Scrunched up faces of disgust. Troy grinned.

“Yeah, they were ugly fuckers. Probably had quite a few battles back in the day with baby Megaladons and T-Rexes.”

Conversations started breaking up again, splintering off into individual groups. Keoni and his girlfriend, Connie, talked to Troy about his line of study. They appeared genuinely interested, especially Keoni. Troy indulged them, but not too much. He didn’t want to bore them. He was here to unwind and party, not talk about what he had to fill his head with all day during class.

While they talked the fire crackled, warming the air around them. Other groups stood around their own fire pits, some roasting marshmallows, others simply drinking beer and having a good time. A few people wandered past them, heading toward the shoreline. The sun was going down rapidly and the moon was beginning to rise. It would be dark soon. Troy glanced at his watch. It was almost eight-thirty. The beer was almost gone. He was about to nudge Brad and ask him what they were going to do after the beach was shut down for the night when ear-piercing screams rose from the high tide line.

Startled, everybody turned toward the ocean. The screams rose again, male, in pain, terrified. “Ahhhh, get it off me, get it off me!”

Troy acted on instinct. He ran toward the shore, his adrenalin pumping. Half a dozen other guys from various fire pits joined him. Keoni raced along beside him.

When they reached the shoreline, Troy saw what was happening. A man wearing nothing but swim trunks was on the ground screaming. A giant lobster-scorpion thing was eating his left leg. There was blood everywhere. The man’s friend, also dressed in swim trunks, was darting around him as if unsure of what to do or how to help him. The second man had a wild, panicked look on his face. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” the second man chanted.

Everybody that ran to see what was happening stopped short as if they’d hit an invisible wall. Keoni said, “Holy fuck, that’s
it!
That’s like what they said got that guy earlier today!”

From behind them, back at the fire pit, the women had trotted a few yards from relative safety and stood well back. They called out. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

As Troy watched, dumbfounded, not believing what he was seeing, another creature scuttled up from the ocean as if it had surfed in on the tide. It quickly ran up to the man on the ground, who was whipping violently back and forth, trying to shake the first creature off his leg. The second creature darted forward and jabbed the man in the chest with its stinger. The man screamed and arched his back. His friend cried out and jumped back. So did the dozen or so guys who’d run down to the shoreline to offer assistance.

“Fuck this shit!” Keoni said. He was already starting to retreat back.

A guy wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and baggy shorts stepped forward. He was brandishing a large, heavy piece of wood. He took a roundhouse swing at the second creature, as if he were attempting to beat Hank Aaron’s home run record. The sound of the wood hitting the creature’s back was a sharp
crack
. The man on the ground continued to scream.

More screams of terror arose, fingers pointing toward the ocean by people standing near the high tide line. Troy glanced quickly to his left. Another creature was surfing ashore. It started crawling toward them, it’s large pincers clicking together in rapid staccato.

Click-click! Click-click!

“Fuck this,” Troy said. He joined Keoni and their loose-knit group from the fire pit and they ran back up the beach.

To Troy’s left, somebody shouted. “We gotta get the fuck out of here!”

The clicking sounds grew louder. To Troy, they sounded like dinner plates being banged together.

CLICK-CLICK! CLICK-CLICK! CLICK-CLICK!

And as everybody abandoned their fire pits and started heading toward the strand and the parking lot beyond, Troy felt a mixture of excitement and terror from the adrenaline rush.

The rest of the evening was utter chaos.

PART ONE

JULY 5

ONE

San Pedro, California

As he did most mornings, Jim Thurmond had to remind himself that this was no longer his home. Yes, it was still the place he had lived in for six years of his life. The address was still South Pacific Avenue. If he wanted to, he could still walk the dog, Samhain, from here down to the earthquake shattered remnants of 46
^th
and 47
^th
streets—an area referred to by locals as Sunken City. He still slept on the couch here and ate dinner or breakfast here on rare occasions. But that didn’t mean it was still his home. It wasn’t, anymore than Samhain was still his dog, or Tammy was still his wife.

While Danny ate his breakfast and watched television, and Samhain sat next to the boy, patiently waiting for any stray cereal that might hit the floor, Jim glanced around the room. The place looked great—much better than it ever had when he was still living here. He didn’t like admitting that to himself, and did so begrudgingly, but it was the truth. In the first few months after their divorce, Tammy had thrown herself into a frenzy of remodeling and redecorating. Fresh coats of soft, pastel paints covered every wall. A new plasma screen television was mounted on the living room wall. That wall had once been filled with pictures of their family, and their extended families. Now, it featured a few framed photos of Tammy and Danny, as well as pictures of Tammy’s parents. Jim’s picture was absent. In his place was a Monet print with a nice frame. Everything was new. New carpet lined the floors, and new tiles had been laid in the kitchen, complimenting the new cabinets that Tammy’s new boyfriend had built by hand.

Still smiling, Jim felt acid churn in his stomach.

Silly as it sounded, it was things like the hand-built kitchen cabinets that really hurt. Tammy’s new boyfriend, Anthony, excelled at doing things like that. He could build furniture, put a roof or vinyl siding on a house, hang drywall, wire an electrical socket, replace the transmission in a car, and all the other things men were supposed to know how to do—except that Jim had never been good at any of them, which was why Tammy had divorced him. Oh, she hadn’t said that was the main reason. Not at first. But she’d admitted almost sheepishly soon after she’d started dating Anthony that it had been a factor.

Tammy and Jim had separated nearly two years ago after sixteen years together—eight years of dating followed by eight years of marriage. The relationship, like any relationship, had its share of the goods and the bads. Eventually, the bads had outweighed the goods. Or so they’d felt at the time. So the two of them had separated one rainy January evening. Ultimately, six months of intense counseling had been unable to save their marriage, and they’d elected to divorce. It was amicable, if any divorce could be considered such. Both of them still cared about each other, but they’d just drifted apart. The one thing they still had in common was Danny, and both doted on him and agreed that he came first and they would work together as co-parents to provide a healthy upbringing for the boy. And they had.

Jim had started dating immediately, determined to lose his sorrows in the arms—and between the legs—of another woman. Tammy had followed suit, admittedly more to spite him than any real desire to begin dating so soon. But why not? They were both in their late-thirties, and had spent the last sixteen years together. Why not try something new?

While Jim had met his partners through the bar scene, Tammy had met Anthony via a dating website, and while Jim’s subsequent relationships had crashed and burned pretty quickly, Tammy’s had not. Which left Jim in an unenviable position because now, nearly two years after they’d parted ways, he was faced with the certain knowledge in both his head and his heart that he was still in love with his ex-wife, while she was in love with another man. Oh, she still cared about Jim. They’d discussed it at length one night when Jim had poured his heart out to her after Danny had gone to bed. A part of her still loved him. A part of her always would. But she was with Anthony now, and she deserved the chance to see where that would lead. And Jim couldn’t fault her for that. He still loved her, but more importantly, he wanted to see her happy. If being with Anthony made her happy, then that was ultimately okay with him. Hard to bare, but okay. A happy Tammy meant a happy Danny, and in the end, that was all that mattered. So Jim smiled a lot, and tried not to let on to the pain he harbored inside.

Or the loneliness.

These were the only moments when he was truly happy—the times spent with his son and his ex-wife. Oh, he had peace. He knew contentment. Jim was lucky enough to be self-employed and still earning money during the last dregs of the Great American Economic Collapse. He made his own hours, and his commute was from his bed to the coffee pot to the computer. As a result, he had joint custody with Tammy. They’d been able to work it out without lawyers. He picked Danny up every morning, spent some time with him at Tammy’s house, and then took him to pre-school. In the afternoons, he picked the boy up from pre-school and took him home. After dinner, Tammy picked him up and took him back to her house, except on Wednesdays, when Danny spent the night at Jim’s apartment—three blocks away from Tammy’s house. They split custody every other weekend. When Jim didn’t have Danny, he lost himself in his work, or spent time with his friends, all of whom were also divorced. But although those hours were peaceful after a fashion, it was his time with Danny, and his time here with Tammy, that he’d grown to cherish.

And yes, the house looked great—as long as you ignored the controlled chaos of Danny’s toys scattered about.

“What are you thinking about, Daddy?”

“Hmm?” Jim looked over at his son. The five-year old was staring at him, grinning.

“What are you thinking about?” Danny asked again. “You were smiling.”

“I was just thinking about you and Mommy, and how lucky I am. And how lucky you are to have a Mommy like her.”

“Let’s see if Danny feels that way in a moment.” Tammy walked back into the living room, carrying a refilled coffee mug for Jim and one for herself. She handed Jim his and sat hers down on a coaster. “Okay, Danny. Time to get ready for pre-school.”