Dead Drunk: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse... One Beer at a Time (16 page)

Though a month had passed since Blake died from the spoiled
insulin, his last words still echoed in Rob’s mind. “I swear you could fuck up
a peanut butter sandwich.” Rob put on his tattered jean shorts, flipped the
cushion over and lay back down to sleep.

Chapter
31

Booty Call

A casualty of the Second Great Chicago Fire, Willis Tower
had collapsed upon itself and blanketed the city in a fine layer of dust and
despair. Like its residents, America’s Second City had died.

However, Charlie Campbell’s thoughts were elsewhere as he
snuck about the shadows, kicking up a powdery trail between burnt out cars and
overgrown bushes. And they were mostly on getting laid.

While his friends continued their idle boozing and general
mischief-making, Charlie pounded out countless pushups, sit-ups and wind
sprints. The hardcore training soon reshaped him into the White Lightning of old,
albeit balder than before, but just as fast. Now able to survive on the streets
through speed and cunning, Charlie grew bolder with each solo trip. Tonight he
hoped to score a secret rendezvous with the elusive neighbor girls. Naturally,
he’d kept his friends in the dark about his plans.

The streets were almost empty due to Russ’s invention of a
game he called “zom-bowling.” A bowling ball screwed to a long chain was the
only equipment, and being drunk was the only rule. Anything dumb enough to get
into range went splat, and the rats always cleaned up the mess. It passed the
time.

After a few pauses to
avoid detection, Charlie reached the three-flat apartment down the street,
grabbed a knotted bed sheet hanging from the second floor window, and clamored
up. Adrenaline pumping, he entered the darkened room intent on making a bold
entrance. “Hello, ladies,” Charlie said and offered up the broadest smile he
could muster. He had always thought first impressions were important.

The answer was a sharp object pressed firmly against his
neck. Blood spattered the floor as echoes of the bachelor party fiasco flooded
Charlie’s thoughts. He feared his dick had betrayed him yet again.

“Sit down and put your hands above your head,” said a gruff
female voice from the darkness.

Charlie complied. “I’m unarmed—”

“Shut your mouth,” came the reply.

Charlie pressed his luck. “I risked my ass bringing you
food. Plus you dropped me a note and told me to come up here. What gives?”

A hastily lit candle revealed the two women holding him
captive. “We’ve been watching you since day one,” a redhead built like a brick
shithouse said as she pushed the knife forward. “And frankly, we’re not
impressed.”

Charlie cringed. “I’m not sure what you think you’ve seen
from a hundred yards away, but—”

“We’ve seen plenty,” she replied, stone-faced. “I’d say we
know everything about you.”

“Oh really?”

“For instance, your white-haired friend is a bumbling
masturbatory idiot. The moron with the mullet is a raging alcoholic, the big
guy looks borderline retarded and the smirking tool in the cop outfit is a
psycho. How did I do?”

“Not bad,” Charlie conceded. “But what about me?”

“You seem the least useless out of the bunch,” the other
girl, a blonde, said with the faintest hint of a smile. Charlie saw his
lifeline.

“We’re not boy scouts, but we’ve been trying. Don’t we get
points for rescuing the kid at least?”

“Saving him was the only reason we contacted you,” the
blonde said.

“You just used us for food then?”

She shook her head. “No. We wanted to make sure you were
harmless.”

“And?” Charlie asked.

“And I’m pretty sure Kate here could kick your ass,” she
replied with a wink.

Charlie glanced sideways at his captor’s taut arms. “Fair
enough. So that’s Kate. I’m Charlie, what’s your name?”

Her face softened. “Brooke.”

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re old friends, would you
mind taking the knife out of my neck? I don’t want to bleed out over here.”

Kate lowered the blade and stepped away. “You’re both
annoying the shit outta me so I’m going to the living room. Don’t make me come
back in here, pencil neck.”

“Sorry, she doesn’t like men… at all,” Brooke whispered
while leaning in and dabbing at Charlie’s puncture wound with a rag.

“I kinda got that feeling,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What about you? Because I might actually be the world’s most eligible
bachelor.”

“Being a little forward aren’t you?” she said while her
green eyes sparkled.

Charlie nodded. “There’s no reason not to be, given the
circumstances. I mean, I could die on my way home.”

“Merlot?” she asked casually and retrieved a bottle from the
counter. “I’ve been saving it.”

“Tempting, but I stopped drinking a few weeks ago and I’m
kinda on a roll. But if you wanna get hammered and do something you’ll regret…”

The banter kept up for several hours and Charlie was on top
of his game. It felt great, but the sun was coming up soon and he had to sneak
home.

“I almost forgot,” Charlie said and gave her a freshly
picked red rose from Mrs. Stone’s beloved garden, plucked mere feet from the
heavily decayed and thoroughly crushed skeleton. “Are we going steady now?”

“I’m not that easy,” she said and smiled. “Then again, you
are quite eligible.”

“But all bullshit aside, why am I here?”

Brooke put down her empty glass. “We want to leave the city,
and we need your help to do it.”

Chapter
32

You Mad Bro?

“This bar was great. They’d give you free drinks and food
all night long,” Rob said then paused from his story to gulp stale rum and
coke. “When it got late, they’d take you out back and fuck the shit out of
you.”

“This actually happened to you?” Bruce said.

“No, but it happened to my sister all the time.”

Charlie moved on before any feelings or faces could get
hurt. “I can’t believe how much Elvis and Brandon are growing,” he said as the
dynamic duo happily splashed around the kiddie pool, shaded from the sun by a
Bud Light umbrella. The raccoon and child had become the best of friends,
almost like brothers.

“They’re growing all right. Like a cancer,” sourpuss
Left-Nut added.

“What’s up your ass?” Charlie said. “Not that I really give
two shits.”

“All right, since you asked me. I’m sick of you walking
around here like you’re Jesus, and all of us should just bow down to your
greatness. The truth of the matter is, you’re the biggest traitor since Mariah
Stevens—”

“Who’s that?” Russ paused from meticulously brushing his
mullet. Five hundred strokes a day like clockwork.

“My prom date,” Left-Nut replied. “I went for snacks and
that whore gave my cousin a handy-j under the table. But she’s not important.
What’s important is that we’ve got our own Benedict Arnold, right in front of
us.”

“Oh here we go. I suppose you’re gonna say I stole your
jerk-off lotion or something?”

Left-Nut stopped inches from Charlie’s face. “Oh no, this is
legit.” He turned back to the others. “I noticed our food stocks were
shrinking. Of course, I assumed Rob was stealing it, being the fat fuck that he
is, so I waited to catch him in the act. It took a few nights of staying up
late, pretending I was asleep on the couch.” He whirled around dramatically to
face Charlie. “Only the thief wasn’t Rob.”

“I’ve been carbo-loading, big deal. I bring most of the food
in anyways.”

Left-Nut sneered. “If it were only that simple. But I was
curious to see what you were up to, so I tailed you one night. And that’s when
I saw you climb into a three-flat down the block, your dick leading the way.”

“Where are you goin’ with this?”

“I’m saying I want my piece, literally. Besides, I called
dibs on the blonde one. That’s official.”

“Don’t you think she has a say about that?” Charlie said as
his face reddened and blood rushed to his hands.

“There’s no free lunch. If they want more food, they’ll have
to pay. Ass, gas or grass right? I know what I’ll take.”

Mike jumped in. “You’re a rapist now?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention for the last fifteen
years?” Left-Nut’s voice rose. “You could say that I have questionable morals,
sure.”

Mike nodded. “You could say that.”

Left-Nut stood his ground. “Here we go again. Mike thinks
his shit doesn’t stink too. But I remember back in college you stuck your
roommate’s toothbrush up your ass because he stole your beer.”

“Hey, I was Mike’s roommate,” Smokey said, surprised.

“It’s called growing up. Most people that aren’t complete
losers tend to do it.” Mike looked to Smokey. “Sorry about the toothbrush. I
guess I overacted a little.”

The arguments continued while Brandon and Elvis romped in
the rainwater, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding around them. Brandon
had learned to mimic the raccoon’s chatter and now it was the only noise he
would make, much to Left-Nut’s annoyance.

Meanwhile, the dispute picked up steam as others took sides.
“I don’t normally agree with Lefty, but he’s got a point,” Bruce said. “I’m not
risking my life for chicks I’ve never even met. Especially when Charlie’s
getting all the honey. That’s bogus.”

“It’s worse than bogus,” Trent said. “It’s damn right
dangerous. I mean, Charlie’s been going out without telling any of us?”

“Yeah, so? I don’t have a curfew.”

“You haven’t had a bite check, which means you could be
infected right now and we wouldn’t even know it,” Trent replied. “We don’t want
another Cliff situation on our hands. Better tie him up until we figure this
out.”

“Yeah, then we can pay our neighbors a house call,” Left-Nut
added with a knowing smirk. “And by house call I mean sexual intercourse.”

The last comment sent ice through Charlie’s veins and
spurred him to act. He braced for the quick shove that would send Left-Nut
tumbling down into the zombie-pit. The others were drunk enough that they might
back off, and if not, well, he’d deal with them too. Things were about to get
real.

“What’s that noise?” Rob said while positioning himself
between Charlie and the others. “Seriously, everybody shut up for second.”

“Like the helicopter you ‘heard’ the other day?” Russ said.
“Boy, I swear you got oatmeal between your ears.”

“Not another word,” Big Rob replied with a glare, and Russ
went back to sipping his grain alcohol.

Sure enough, a low rumble grew louder, and the guys instantly
forgot their squabble. That’s when the building began rattling.

Bruce ran to the north side of the roof and leaned far over
the edge, right in time to see a tank come around the corner and turn down
their street, mowing down several zombies in the process. “Over here!” he
shouted and waved frantically. A machine gunner wearing sunglasses waved back
as the tan-colored tank came closer.

“Holy shit, here comes the cavalry!” Bruce squinted when he
noticed the tank bore a red flag with yellow stars. “What’s a Chinese tank
doing—”

CHAH CHAH CHAH CHAH CHAH!
was the sound of the .50
caliber ripping the stockbroker in half. Bruce’s legs stood upright, almost
cartoon-like, as his limp torso splashed into the crimson pool.

Russ instinctively chucked his bottle of liquor at the tank,
then dove for cover as the gunner sprayed more belt-fed shells in his
direction. The incoming firepower easily shredded the brick façade of the
building and sent shards flying into the handful of idiots now facing certain
death.

“Where’s my bullets?” Trent said while cowering behind the
gas grill.

“You’re serious?” Charlie replied. “It’s a fucking tank.”

“You got a better idea?”

He didn’t. “They’re in Jim’s bible.”

Naturally, this was the only place that Trent hadn’t
searched. Moments later, he returned with his gun and remaining ammo. The cop
waited for a break in the firing, then popped up and squeezed off several
rounds at the soldier, completely missing him. With the machine gun now trained
directly at him, he fired his last round and missed again, but this time the
bullet ricocheted off the tank and caused a spark. Russ’s liquor and the gunner
went up in flames.

As the gunplay and death scream of the flaming soldier
radiated outward, hordes of zombies flooded in from surrounding areas and
swarmed onto the tank, some catching fire in their mad rush to consume the
living. But the turret turned and rose towards the apartment, threatening to
obliterate the friends with the push of a button. Out of ammo, Trent yelled a
string of Asian-based obscenities as he grabbed his crotch with one hand and
threw his pistol with the other.

BOOM
! The tank promptly exploded, shattering every
window on the block and shaking the foundation of the apartment to its core.

In the commotion, no one had noticed the Black Hawk
helicopter swoop down and unload hell. It was the good guys this time.

“I knew I heard a chopper,” Rob said as he rose from
shielding Brandon, ignoring the piece of sizzling shrapnel sticking from his
back.

The next few minutes were a mad scramble to deal with the
small fires spreading throughout the building. As gruesome as it was, buckets
of bloody Bruce-water was the only way to get it done. While they put out the
last of the flames, Rob noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Elvis?” he said
with panic creeping into his voice.

A quick search revealed nothing until Brandon pointed across
the street. The raccoon was at ground level, weaving his way past burning
debris and shambling zombies with a dozen giant rats in hot pursuit. Rob went
berserk, and it took everyone to restrain him as a screeching Elvis fled down
an alley.

But they couldn’t dwell on the raccoon’s fate for too long
because a sudden downwash told them the helicopter had returned. The wind
whipping his hair, Russ shouted upwards, “Drop a ladder! Get me the fuck out of
here!” The reply was a large rock striking Russ in the forehead and knocking
him out cold.

Mike un-crumpled a note taped to the rock and read it aloud.
“Area too hot. Meet at park three blocks north. Sunrise, two weeks from today.
Last ride out.”

The helicopter flew off as abruptly as it had arrived,
leaving behind thousands of extra zombies drawn by its presence — zombies now
blocking their new escape route.

Searching for his inner John Wayne, Charlie addressed his
battered friends. “Time to get to work, boys.”