Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time (11 page)

Chapter
22

Gone Fishin’

Charlie cast his line over the side of the building and
dragged his bait across the street, jerking it now and then like the bass pros
did on television. It wasn’t likely the enormous rats would notice the tiny
chunk of meat over the stench of dozens of bloated bodies, but the mindless
repetition kept him occupied for hours on end.

He wiped the sweat off his nose, then drained the last
drop of whiskey and chucked the bottle. It was
nine in the morning. Of course, Charlie had no clue of the time or even what
day it was, and it didn’t matter. His schedule was wide open. The end of the
world had that effect on one’s itinerary.

The constant deluge of alcohol and self-loathing had muddled
his mind so much that life before Armageddon was but a hazy memory. This was
Charlie’s new existence, miserable as it was. At least on the roof he could
ignore everyone, zone out and listen to the wind whistling down the deserted
streets.

Sometimes it wasn’t quiet at all. Every so often the
wandering mouths would find prey and the solitude of the dead city would
evaporate into frenzied cries of terror. After a few minutes it was back to the
peaceful quiet of the grave. But that hadn’t happened in a while now.

However, that morning had been anything but peaceful as the
trapped child kept screaming his little head off. He’d been there three days,
stuck twenty feet up a tree while the zombies milled about below. Drawn by his
pitiful wails, they’d smeared the bark crimson with blood and skin as they
pawed upwards, grasping for a meal just out of reach.

While Charlie tuned the tragedy out and focused on catching
a meal of his own, Smokey came outside for some fresh air. “Dude, what’s with
the Porky Pig outfit? You’re gonna give Mike a heart attack.”

Charlie hadn’t realized he was naked from the waist down and
starting to sunburn. He shrugged and went back to fishing. Skin cancer was the
least of his concerns.

“That kid has a set of lungs on him.” Smokey picked up the binoculars.
“It’s a shame he won’t shut up, it’s only drawing more attention.”

“A damned shame,” Charlie replied without emotion.

“Okay…” The kind-hearted hippy frowned. “You’re kind of being
a dick lately.” He got no response but continued anyway. “A person can’t go
much longer than three days without water, and in this heat, even less. I wish
there was something we could do.”

“I suppose we could shoot him.” Charlie began reeling in his
line.

The door swung open again and a shit-faced Russ came
stumbling out with Left-Nut, Rob and Mike following close behind. “You need
bigger bait,” Left-Nut said and pointed at Charlie’s naked waist. Nobody else
laughed. “What’re you doing anyways?”

Charlie took his tattered shirt off and wrapped it around
his waist. “I’m trying to catch one of those little bastards running around
everywhere.” Indeed, the bodies littering the streets had led to a regular rat
bonanza.

“Corpse-eating, carrion-crawlers sizzling off the George
Foremen? Sign me up,” Left-Nut said.

Mike plopped down in one of the dilapidated lounge chairs.
“They’ll take over after we’re all gone. Sometimes we euthanized pet rats at
the clinic and they’d wake back up in the dumpster. You could hear them shaking
around inside the bags. Creepy.” He thought about their present situation. “I
guess we’ve seen stranger things…”

Charlie kept reeling in the line. “I can’t eat any more cat
food.” He’d switched to a strictly liquid diet of expired Old Milwaukee’s Best
and various types of liquor for the last several days, and the hunger was
sapping what was left of his will to live.

Already annoyed by his present company, another fit from the
screaming child set Charlie off. He walked to the edge of the building and
pumped his fist in the air. “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DIE! GO AHEAD AND JUMP! NO
ONE’S COMING TO SAVE YOU! YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD, YOUR PARENTS ARE DEAD, EVEN
YOUR DOG IS DEAD!”

Tears in his eyes, he swore for another minute before
quieting to a mumble. Whether from exhaustion or taking a cue from Charlie, the
child’s screams stopped. Everyone stood in silence.

“I guess he got the message,” Left-Nut said.

With the outburst over, the men went back to their normal
routines. Alcohol was consumed in mass quantities, dumb jokes were told and
laps were swam in the kiddie pool. It was the orgy of stupid they’d become
accustomed to. But with food and alcohol supplies dwindling rapidly, the party
would be over soon — as in days, not weeks.

Things wound down by mid-afternoon with everyone seriously
drunk or passed out. Charlie himself dozed off, fishing pole in hand, when a
nightmare took root in his mind. Random images assaulted him including
flickering strobe lights, chomping teeth, crawling insects and O.J. Simpson in
drag. It was almost bland considering their new reality. Still, Charlie snapped
awake and blinked as he tried to remember where he was. The fishing pole
wrapped around his wrist started dragging him from the chair. “Holy shit, I got
one,” he said and roused his friends from their inebriated slumber.

Left-Nut looked over the edge and slapped him on the back.
“Looks like a keeper.”

Charlie began reeling the wriggling beast in and was careful
not to break the line. His friends peered down, anxious to spy the catch of the
day.

Mike’s smile disappeared as his attention shifted from the
dangling rat to something across the street. “That’s not good.” He pointed to a
familiar figure next to the vacant school bus.

The attractive brunette was tall and slender, tanned and
toned. But something was off as she stood staring into the sun without a care
in the world. A sudden gust of wind rustled her hair and revealed a deep gash
creeping from the nape of her supple neck to her collarbone.

Charlie dropped his fishing pole off the roof as his mouth
fell open, recognizing the woman he’d known for a decade. Her name was Cindy,
and she was Jim’s wife.

“I don’t remember her
tits being so big. Man I’d like to—” Left-Nut’s sentence was cut short as Big
Rob grabbed him by the throat and applied serious pressure.

“Not another word,” Mike said with a glare, and Rob released
his death grip on the cretin’s windpipe.

“What are you gawking at?” As if on cue, Jim emerged from
downstairs. He’d skipped the day’s festivities to sleep and was now looking to
blow off steam.

Charlie searched for a cover story as the others acted
nonchalant. “Oh nothing, I’m heading inside to try a new recipe I’ve been
thinking of. How do you think the Friskies Sea Captain’s Choice would taste
with hot sauce?”

Jim could tell something was amiss and wondered if he was
about to get punked. It wouldn’t have been the first time. “Did you guys sneak
food out here or something? You better not be holding out on me.” He tried to
pass by his friends but they formed a line and stopped him. Now it was obvious
something was up. “All right, what’s the deal?”

Rob and Mike looked at their feet as Left-Nut started
chuckling nervously. Charlie stepped forward, his palms facing upwards. “Jim,
the thing is… shit, I don’t know how to say this. The thing is…”

Confusion crossed Jim’s face. “Come on, spit it out.”

There was no sugarcoating the situation. “I guess there’s
something you need to see.” Charlie turned towards the street. “But try to stay
calm…”

Jim walked to the edge of the roof and looked around, not
seeing anything out of the ordinary. Some bodies, some zombies, a lot of trash.
Then he noticed the woman and his heart nearly leapt from his chest.

There was his wife, looking beautiful as ever. Denial kicked
in and he panicked. “We gotta get her. She won’t last a minute if those
bastards see her!”

Charlie realized this wasn’t going to end well as hysteria
took hold of his best friend. He’d have to talk some sense into Jim, and he’d
have to do it fast. “There’s nothing we can do man. She’s—”

Wild eyed and furious, Jim shoved Charlie hard into the
wall. “You talked me out of getting her in the first place, not again.” He
grabbed the thirty-foot ladder but struggled to move it.

Rob put him in a bear hug as Mike spoke calmly. “Put it down
and take another look.”

He tried to resist, but Rob increased the pressure. After
struggling fruitlessly, Jim threw the ladder down with a clang. Reality slowly
and painfully clawed its way back.

Mike repeated himself. “Take another look.”

Jim saw his lovely wife, the mother of his unborn child,
standing in the same spot. But this time he noticed her gaping neck wound. He
saw her stiff body swaying slightly with the wind. Finally, he noticed her vacant
stare and empty eyes, gazing into nothingness. Jim took one last look at the
love of his life, closed his eyes and plunged head first over the side of the
building.

Chapter
23

Man Overboard

Big Rob stared in horror at the lone shoe in his hand. Jim
had slipped out of his grasp and now lay below, broken and battered on the
sidewalk. His arms and legs were bent at awkward angles and a trickle of blood
began to pool next to him on the ground.

Other than a gentle rustling of leaves, it was completely silent.
Until Left-Nut opened his big mouth. “I always said she’d drive him to
suicide.”

Charlie briefly entertained the idea of heaving Left-Nut
over the side as well, but a faint groan coming from Jim stopped his murderous
thoughts. The group sprung into action as Mike whispered out orders. “Lower the
ladder, and do it quietly. Jim’s a goner if one of these shit-heads hears us.”
He looked at Rob. “Can you carry him up?”

“I’m on it,” Rob said with confidence then lowered the
cumbersome ladder. It came to rest on the ground with a scrape, but none of the
nearby cannibals noticed.

“Be careful,” Mike said. “If his neck’s injured and you
jostle him, it can cause permanent damage.”

Rob nodded, swung his large frame onto the ladder and began
the descent. He was halfway down when Jim came to and screamed in agony,
unmindful of the danger lurking mere yards away.

“He needs to hurry,” Trent said as a pizza delivery boy, a
mailman and a naked office worker made a beeline for Jim. Seeing the urgency,
Rob plummeted the rest of the way down and crashed into a heap. He rolled to
his feet and gingerly scooped Jim up like a baby.

Meanwhile, Trent haphazardly unloaded his clip, missing
several times before taking the pizza boy out with a lucky shot to the chest.
The pimple-faced teenager’s heart exploded into a spray of scarlet that hung
briefly in the air like a macabre firework. “Eat it, fuck-nut,” Trent said and
chose his next target.

The rest of the guys hurled anything within reach to slow
down the charging pack, including bricks, a rubber football, a cactus and an
empty propane tank. With no time to spare, Rob tossed Jim over his back and
sprinted up the ladder. Bouncing like a ragdoll, Jim passed out again as his
shattered bones cracked and splintered into surrounding tissue. Warm blood from
multiple compound fractures streamed down Rob’s chest and onto the aluminum
steps, causing him to lose his footing.

Cindy latched onto one of Rob’s feet, yet the giant advanced
anyways, lifting her into the air as he climbed. He tried to shake her off, but
the ravenous woman held tight and Rob now supported an extra two hundred and
fifty pounds of husband and wife.

As if things weren’t bad enough, the nude office worker
crashed into the base of the ladder with a bang, tipping it to the side.
Charlie and Blake dove in unison and grabbed hold of the ladder right before it
could slide out of reach. Nowhere near as strong as he’d once been, Rob started
to lose his grip.

Trent reloaded and drew a bead on the spastically shaking
Cindy. He squeezed off a single round, and it grazed Rob’s shoulder,
ricocheting off the pavement.

“Ow!” Rob bellowed.

“Sorry.” Trent aimed again and fired. Head shot.

She’d wanted to be a mom for years, and after several rounds
of fertility treatments, she was finally going to be. But all the organic food,
child-rearing books and classical music had been for naught. Cindy’s lifeless
body twitched as her diseased brain shut down. A childhood memory of apple
picking flickered briefly in her mind, and then she lay still.

The hungry mailman took no notice as he tread roughly on the
fresh corpse, his arms reaching skyward, uncaring and oblivious to the tragedy
underfoot.

Rob finally struggled to
the top and then slumped to the ground, puking. A little more strain and the
big man’s heart would have burst. Mike and Charlie gently eased Jim down on a
wool blanket while the others yanked the ladder up.

“Ugh, he shit himself,” Left-Nut remarked as the smell
became too obvious to ignore.

Mike did a quick triage.
“That’s the least of his problems. He’s hemorrhaging badly and has broken bones
too.”

“What can we do?” Charlie asked with desperation creeping
into his voice.

“There’s only one thing I know of that might stop the
bleeding…” Mike paused to take a deep breath. “Plug in the iron.”

* * *

Charlie still had the noxious odor of singed human flesh in
his nose two days later. Stopping the bleeding hadn’t solved all of Jim’s
problems though, and he’d fluttered in and out of consciousness ever since,
ranting and raving in between. At one point, he repeatedly said phonebook for
six hours straight, alternating between saying it slowly and spitting it out.
Whispers, shouts, English accents, it didn’t matter; Jim was stuck in a loop. His
friends had passed the pity stage and moved right on to annoyance. Of course,
some were more annoyed than others.

“Let’s end it,” Trent said while pissing off the roof and
aiming for Zombie Cliff. For his part, Cliff was oblivious to the daily golden
shower and meandered around the alley.

“Yeah, I haven’t slept in days,” Left-Nut added.

Charlie didn’t like the harsh tone of the conversation and
turned to Mike for answers. “You’ve been pretty mum, what’s the deal?”

“Listen, I’m only a vet, and a pretty crappy one at that.
Still, it’s obvious we’re not talking about a happy ending.”

“He said happy ending—”

“Shut the fuck up Left-Nut,” Mike said. “Anyways, Jim has
serious issues to contend with. Even in a hospital with all modern medicine had
to offer, he’d be struggling.”

“There’s nothing you can do?” Charlie said.

“Look, I have Band-Aids and half a bottle of hydrogen
peroxide, and Jim has a broken neck. What the hell do you want from me?” Mike
regained his composure. “He’s going to get sepsis any day.”

“Sepsis? Sounds like a heavy metal band,” Russ said.

“It’s blood poisoning. And I don’t picture him regaining
consciousness again. I’m sorry.” As if to add emphasis to Mike’s diagnosis, Jim
started shouting again.

“Sounds like the great communicator’s up,” Russ said.
“Between him and the damned kid, we might as well have a battle of the bands up
here.”

“Yeah, and more noise means more of these idiots keep
showing up,” Bruce added.

Charlie paced back and forth. “What do we do?”

“We help Jim find peace. That’s what he was trying to do
anyways, and—”

“Why didn’t we let him die then?” Left-Nut said.

“We did the right thing by trying to save him, now we need
to let him go,” Mike said. “Bruce is right. If he keeps yelling, we’ll have
half the city here.”

“Do we draw straws or something?” Rob asked.

“How about Trent? He did the wife and kid, might as well
finish what he started,” Left-Nut said without a hint of remorse.

“One shot, two kills,” Trent replied proudly and gave his
obnoxious friend a triumphant fist-bump.

Charlie fixed them both with an icy glare. “I used to think
Vidu was socially-retarded, but you two make him look like a prom king.
Anyways, he’s my best friend, so I should do it.” Nobody argued.

Trent held out his pistol, but Mike gently pushed it away.
“There’s no need for that. I’ll grind up the last of the sleeping pills and
make a drink. He’ll just drift off.”

Smokey briskly emerged through the door with an odd look on
his face. “Guys, Phonebook Jimmy is awake, and he’s talking.”