Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (54 page)

Again, my life was saved.

I watched as those beasts feasted on my dad.

Next thing I know, I faint.

When I wake up, I'm in a condo, and I'm surrounded by hippies. A
whole gaggle of them. Some sat in a circle and smoked. Some did yoga.
One of them played the guitar. They all wore things like yellow pants
and blue scarves and rainbow shirts, and there were flowers all over
their bodies – behind ears, around their necks, off their
rope-belts.

I'd grow up with these people. The old woman that saved me was Nora
Fukamoto, and these hippies were her followers. They were like me –
she saved them just before they were eaten by zombies. Those hippies
became my brothers and sisters, and yet, I was distant with them. I
barely remember having any sort of conversation with even one of
them. Nora was a zombie hunter for hire. I was lucky that day she
found me. I was an accident.

Nora would only be home one day out of the week. Each time she came
home, she'd be covered in blood and mud. She'd always throw a few big
bills into the kitchen sink to help pay for the condo's insane rent,
and then she'd vanish into her bedroom. We all assumed she was
sleeping. One night, when I was 14, I put my ear against her bedroom
door...and I heard weeping. I knocked and walked in. Nora was
kneeling on her bed, in the nude, with a dagger held against her
breast. The dagger's handle was shaped like a mad dragon. I thought
she was gonna rip my eyes out for what I saw, but no....She smiled
and waved me inside. I closed the door behind me and sat next to her.
She put her finger to her lips and went, “Shhhh....”

The old woman was shaking.

She put her arm around me....She said she saw something in me.
Something
special
. Told me that when the time was right, she
was going to teach me all about zombie hunting. I was fine with it.
Everyone needed a career. She seemed surprised. Killing zombies
(tall, walking corpses) didn't bother me. Maybe because I was
desensitized by seeing my dad...I mean Todd...killed and eaten in
such a nasty way.

Nora. She loved her job.

All she ever spoke about was zombie slaying. How they're all evil.
How they all deserved to die. The hippies speculated that maybe
something bad happened to her when she was younger, like all of us
there. But no, something in me said something much, much worse
happened to the old woman. One time, I opened the bathroom door to
take a shit and saw Nora doing pullups on the shower curtain rod. A
huge scar was on her back. I saw spine. White bone. Maybe that had
something to do with her terrible past. I don't remember what
happened after that whole bathroom thing. I think I cried and ran off
like a fancy girl.

Maybe she wanted me to see it.

Sometime later (I don't remember my age, but I was taller, manlier),
Nora got us all together for a big announcement.

The hippies (some in their teens, some in their twenties) and I stood
in a line like soldiers – eyes forward – in the woods as
Nora walked back and forth...eyeing us out. (I was gonna write
“eying”, but it just looks weird.)

The sun hissed like all hell. Sweat stung my eyes.

Nora waved around a whip.

“Zombie hunting. I can't do this forever. But someone has got
to kill these beasts – keep them in check – has got to
help the people of Oahu. Who here would like to take over for me when
I'm gone?”

People looked around. Many raised their hands, including me. Nora
grinned.

“You can get killed. Many
have
been killed. Some of you WILL be killed.”

She cracked her whip.

We jumped.

People were already crying.

Someone yelled out something confusing and ran off. Nora looked at
the ground and shook her head.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she said. “Anyone else smart
enough to run off?”

Three more people ran. One of them yelped.

Then more...and more...until it was just me and two others: Tiffany,
a skinny girl; and Paul, a bald man. Tiffany and Paul. Tiffany and
Paul. Good people. Too bad they're dead. But anyways....

Nora smiled at us and said how happy she was. It was the first time I
really saw her smile. She said that for a long time she was thinking
about passing the torch. She didn't want to do zombie hunting
anymore. She was getting too old. Her bones hurt all the time. It was
difficult for her to even lift a blade – even harder to shove
it into a skull and murder zombie-brain. The three of us looked at
each other and nodded. We understood. This was going to be some sort
of challenge...test...and the winner was going to get all the money
in Nora's bank account.

She looked to someone behind us.

A man in a nice, red tuxedo walked out from behind a tree. He was
carrying a briefcase. Nora waved him forward, and he stood next to
her. He had a mustache, and I think he was Filipino. Nora cracked her
whip again.

“This is Mr. Rose. My money man,” she said. “He
will make sure that whoever takes over for me doesn't just run off
with all my money. The winner must continue in my footsteps and kill
as many of those bastard Dead Walkers as possible. You dig?”

We all clicked our heels and saluted her.

“Yeaaaah,” we said.

Mr. Rose smiled and opened his briefcase. It turned into a table. He
spread some papers across it and got out his red pen, clicking it.

“All right,” he said in his low voice. It sounded fake.
Like he was trying to sound like a real man. (I should know). “If
I can get you guys to just sign these papers, we can start this
thing.”

We did. I remember seeing the words
Death
and
Accidental
and
Money
and
Babies
and
Forever
. I didn't
question it. I wanted to get this over with. I was gonna win this
thing. The three of us looked at each other again, squinting our
eyes, trying to look mean and serious. I felt like an idiot. A strong
wind picked up and blew all these dead leaves around. Nora looked
around at nature's sudden mood, nodded, and moaned.

“Mmm,” she went. “Mmmmmmmm....It's time. Let us
begin the challenge!”

I asked how many challenges there were.

“Three,” Nora said. “The first is called 'Kill
Scared'. The second is called 'Kill Me'. The third is called 'Kill
You'. She looked at us. “The winner will be blindfolded and
driven to a secret castle, where they will be trained in the secret
art of zombie homicide.”

Something occurred to me, but I had a feeling Nora would say it
first. And she did.

“Folks, you are standing in the heart of Forrest Undead.
Zombies are all
over
the place.”

The other guys freaked out.

Tiff jumped straight into the air and landed in Paul's arms. His
knees were trembling. Tiff was crying and yanking on her hair, then
she yanked on Paul's hair. He didn't even try to stop her. Nora asked
if they were all right – if they wanted out of the
contest/challenge/game/event we all just signed up for. They said
they wanted to stay – that they were
strong
– and
they sniffed and wiped the snot off their faces and smiled.
Forcefully. BIG smiles. Teeth shinning white. Eyes worried. I didn't
smile. We were wasting time. I was going to win this thing, I knew
it. I HAD to win. This was my purpose. For years, I always heard of
people growing up not having a clue what they wanted to do with their
lives. These people – these adults – went to college and
spent thousands of dollars for
nothing
. They either couldn't
find a job or they DID find work they specialized in, but they hated
everything about it (even IF they were making a shit load of money).
It wasn't what they loved doing.

They had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives.

But I knew.

Right there and then, I knew.

Zombie hunting was for me.
And I was going to win that day. I could feel it in my bones. My
whole body was singing – cheering me on. I was vibrating
success.

Nora opened her arms to us.

“Now. Time for the first game.”

We walked a little deeper into the forest. It rained a little. We
climbed down some rocks and came to a stream. Across that was a tall
fence with an old gate in the shape of a screaming demon – the
teeth made of swords. Damn gate looked like something you'd see in
Conan: The Barbarian
. The fence was rusty, made of thick bars
topped with arrows. It ran far down the stream on both ends. Behind
the fence were wooden crosses, all sticking out from the ground at
different angles. The ground was littered with white rocks that were
once, I imagined, headstones. Nora turned to us. Sweat ran down her
face. Her hair was all sticky...stringy.

“Across this stream,” she said, “is Novac Cemetery.
If you folks haven't heard of it, it's because it's a secret –
and sacred – place only known to master zombie murderers, such
as myself. It's a place of practice. Sometimes I come here just to
blow off some steam. Many zombies here. They never stop coming.”
She smiled when she said it.

Tiff looked at me. She looked scared. Her chin trembled. Nora jumped
forth and shook her shoulders.

“If you wanna leave, do it now!” Nora said. “I
can't have you dying on me. I can't take the guilt....”

Tiff words came out fast and nervous:

“I'm ready,” she said. “I'll do whatever you ask.”

Nora looked sad.

“I don't believe you. But it's your call.”

A British man walked out of the woods and greeted us. Nora wasn't
surprised. The British fellow pulled on a rope as thick as a man's
calf muscle, and five zombies moaned out of the woods, eyes covered
with blindfolds. This long rope was driven straight through their
bellies, connecting one zombie to another. At the end of the line was
a skinny, British woman that carried around a huge, golden ax.

The British man tipped his small hat to Nora.

“Mo'ning!”

Nora didn't smile at them.

“Early, I see,” she said, eyeing out the zombies that
just stood there.

The British man, always smiling, nodded.

“Yes, yes...our work never stops. People always needing more
things to practice on and throw things at, ha ha ha.” He looked
at Tiff and me. “Still training?”

Nora nodded.

“You can
call
it that.”

“And what would you call it?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Nora said. “Let's just
say...some kind of
rebirth
.”

I looked at the British woman. She was staring right at me. She
smiled and winked. The British man yanked on the rope.

“Come on, you hooligans. Mush!”

They walked the line of zombies over the stream and shoved them right
into the cemetery. The zombies sniffed the air. The British team took
off their blindfolds, then gave the rope a good yank. The thing made
a zipping sound on its way out. A clean hole was left behind. I could
see straight through those zombies. They looked around in wonder and
stumbled about...slowly...arms out...all just walked off in a daze.
The British team waved goodbye to us and walked down along the stream
and vanished behind a large boulder.

Nora walked to the stream and took off her high heels and stepped
into the water. She turned around.

“We'll do this by age. Let the oldest of you three step
forward.”

Paul walked to her. His hands were shaking. Nora noticed. Paul
saw
that she noticed, so he bit into his hands to calm them. It worked,
and Nora nodded.

“Very good,” she said. She took his shoulders and turned
him around to face us.

“Paul will cross the stream and fight a zombie...or
zombiesss
.
Like you, he has no training. I believe in fate. It will decide if he
will win...or die.” She paused. “He may not make it
back.”

Paul's eyes blew up. He swallowed an imaginary fly. Nora went on.

“If you've got something to say to him, better say it now.”

No one said anything. Nora looked at Paul's wet face.

“If you win the fight, you may cross back. Then, the next
oldest must go and fight.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“If fate finds you deserving, you will become a zombie hunter.
This is a test of the heart, of the soul. Let your instincts guide
you. Do what comes naturally. Make me proud.”

Paul took in a deep breath (shoulders going up high, then down) and
crossed the stream. Mr. Rose was already at the gate. He took out a
Gothic key and opened the huge lock, undid the chains, and opened the
gate. Paul walked in...very, very slowly...like a chicken.

I knew then he was going to die.

He tiptoed around the crosses, head whipping here and there,
listening for anything weird. It was like another world across that
stream: The trees were thinner; the place was darker, muddier –
depressing – like the sun was afraid to shine on it. Paul heard
something and spun around. His face was covered in sweat. Or was it
tears?

A cross shook...and then it was pulled into the ground. Paul cried
out and gripped his heart. A hand shot out from the mud. Paul looked
around and picked up a pointy stick. The zombie crawled out from its
grave and rolled around on the mud. I kept thinking,
Dammit, Paul,
now's your chance! Kill it! Do something!

But he just stood there and stared at the odd creature. He was
petrified!

The zombie was a woman in a wedding dress. At least I
thought
it was female. I couldn't tell because its face was meatless –
nothing but dirty bone with a grin that was all teeth. Worms fell out
of its eye-holes. The zombie kept snapping its jaw, making an
unnerving sound, like someone banging wooden blocks together. It
sounded somewhat musical. Paul took a step back and, of course, fell
down. He just stared and stared, just letting the damn zombie walk
toward him. And it wasn't even a fast walk. She walked like she had
problems, like she was possessed by the shakes. Paul's mouth opened
up, but no sound came out. His eyes were so wide at that point, he
looked humorous. The zombie was almost on him. I don't know what got
into me, but I stepped forward to help! I felt hands on me. It was
Mr. Rose. He squeezed my shoulders tight, and I went down on my
knees.