Nashville Summers

Nashville Summers

Grayson Elliot

Text copyright © 2013 Grayson Elliot

All Rights Reserved

The mild Sep
tember air hit my face hard as I strolled down Tecumseh Avenue of Garrote, New Mexico, casually swinging my arms and glancing from side to side.  I was searching out what I could see in the dim rays of the setting sun and the light of the few remaining streetlamps that hadn't yet been broken.  With every step I took the empty gas can held tight in my right fist smacked into my thigh.  It created a rhythmic pattern that I found amusing.  On either side of me sat peaceful looking suburban homes, many dark and deserted, some with missing doors or smashed and broken windows.  I took no notice of that.

I scowled exaggeratedly and held up my gas can to eye level.

"Fucking thing," I growled, punching it weekly with my left hand.

"Why can't you just stay full on your own?” 
The can made no response.  I lowered it again, still scowling, and continued on my way in the general direction of the gas station.  If only I had a car, I thought.  At 19, I really should have one, but I unfortunately didn’t.

Suddenly
, I became aware of a slight noise to my left.  My nerves tensed, and adrenaline rushed.  Would this be another fight?  There had been too many lately... but when I turned to look I allowed myself to relax slightly.  There was nothing out of the ordinary, just a boy, maybe a little older than me, shooting hoops in his driveway.

It was a damn fine boy at that t
oo.  I found my gay hormones flaring as I admired his lean form, covered only by a pair of basketball shorts and a yellow muscle shirt with the number '6' on the back.  When he jumped I could see his muscular legs flex appealingly.  I smiled, and watched as long as I could without him noticing my stare.  Once he did, he just smiled back, clenching the ball under his arm with one hand and wiping a spot of perspiration off his forehead with the other.  "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Before I could respond he threw the ball at my chest quick as lighting.

"Here, take a shot.”  I was even faster though.  I dropped my gas can to the ground with a clatter catching the ball.

Faster than ever, I dribbled up the
length of the driveway towards the basket and the boy.  When I got closer he got in my way in an attempt to stop me.  Once again I was faster than he expected.  I swiftly faked left, pivoted on the heels of my feet, and slipped by him.  He tried to grab me but I was slippery as an eel.  I ran all the way to the basket where I jumped up higher than I had thought possible and slammed the ball in.  It bounced a little on the pavement and then rolled downhill where it landed at the boy's feet.

He stooped over and picked it up with an inexplicable hung
ry grin on his face.  "Nice work," he said, moving closer to me.  I began to notice a familiar odor in the air, becoming ever so stronger the closer he got.  My shoulders sagged a little in disappointment.  This guy seemed so cool and he was definitely hot.  But from the smell of death he gave out and the aura of light around his eyes, there was no denying the truth.  He was a zombie.  Now, I would have to kill him.

With an undead roar he threw the b
asketball into my face and lunged for me, the bloodlust driving him forward with inhuman force.  For the third time the zombie boy underestimated me.  I ducked under the ball and met his charge by punching him on the face as hard as I could.  That dazed him for a few moments but he kept coming.  That's the way it was with zombies... you gotta kill 'em before they start hurting.

Unfortunately,
I had no chance against a zombie in a fist fight.

For all my strength
, I had no way to kill them unarmed.  As I gave the zombie boy another kick to the stomach to slow him down, I regretfully thought of the chainsaw I had left at home.  It had already slain so many of this guy's undead kin, not that it would do me any good now - it had no gas.

"Your brain is mine
!”  The zombie gave another roar and lunged again, this time catching my arm in its mouth.  But before it could bite, I moved, and it just got a mouthful of plaid shirt.

Angrily I muttered, "This sh
irt was 100% rayon, you ass!”  I couldn't go on like this.  I needed a weapon to destroy this foul thing's brain.  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted an axe lying by a pile of freshly-cut wood.  I ran to it with a cry of delight, grabbing it, and lifting it high over my head.

The zombie's eyes grew wide with fright for the last time
.  "I am NOT your meat!”  I yelled angrily at the creature.  With all the force I could muster, I brought the tool down on its head.  It split in half, sending brains and blood in every direction, splattering all over the pavement and me as well.  "God DAMN it!”  I yelled, wiping a sweat-soaked jet black lock of hair off of my forehead.  “Now this shirt is COMPLETELY ruined!” I kicked the limp, lifeless form in front of me.

"God-fucking-dammit
!”  That was the worst part about the recent zombie surge - if you didn't count the deaths of just about everyone I had known.  They sure knew how to ruin a wardrobe.

Still cursing my luck
, I gave the zombie's body one last kick, wiped some brains off my face, and continued down the dark driveway back towards my gas can.  Before I had gotten too far, I heard a pattering noise all around me.  I felt a droplet of water hit my head and another fell on to my arm.  “Oh shit!”  I moaned.  “Please don't rain.”  I glanced upwards, turning my eyes towards the heavens, but nothing looked down on me.  The sky was pitch black, filled with storm clouds.  A raindrop hit me in the eye.  “Fuck!”  I yelled upwards to God or whoever else might be listening.  “I did NOT need this, I did definitely not need this!”

With a sigh of submission I
turned around, back towards the zombie boy’s house.  Battling the undead was one thing, but getting drenched was another.  I had a long walk ahead of me.  I could hole up here until the rain stopped, and besides, this kid looked about my size and he wasn't using his cloths anymore.  Maybe I could find a replacement for this blood covered shirt.

Once again
, the axe came in handy.  With several powerful swings, I knocked the door down and stepped inside.  It was a good sized house, although I couldn't make out many of the interior details; it was pitch black.  I felt around on the wall for a light switch, and felt the wet and slick of blood.  I'd have wagered that the guy outside had eaten earlier.

Finally I found the light switch and flicked it
.  Nothing happened.

"Christ," I spat
, and flicked it again and again, as if that would help my situation any.  With a yell of annoyance, I swung my new axe as hard as I could.  I felt it connect to something and heard the shatter of glass.  I guessed I had hit a picture frame or something.  "Hello?”  I yelled, in case any humans remained in the house.  My ear met with no reply; all the denizens of this house were either dead or undead... or too scared to answer.  Either way I was fine, I thought, brandishing my axe against any zombie would-be attackers.

Glancing around the room, I waited
for my night vision to set in.  As it did, little by little, I saw that the room I had entered into was like a war area.  Tables were overturned, the couch has all the stuffing ripped out of it, and windows were broken, leaving glass scattered across the floor.  There was blood covering everything.

Outside
, the rain was picking up; it was a torrential downpour.  With another sigh I decided to explore the house.  No way was I waiting in this room!  I was used to the smell of blood by this point, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

The next room I walked into was a
hallway, a narrow passage lined with broken picture frames of the house's previous tenants.  I stopped a bit to examine them out of morbid fascination.  There were two parents and three good-looking children, one girl and two boys, one of which was the zombie I had just smacked outside.  The other looked remarkably similar, a little younger and slightly less athletic.  He had the same light brown hair, except his was longer and closer to being blond.  In the picture he was smiling happily.  It made him look so cute, and although I knew it was unlikely, I hoped this angelic boy had survived.

The sister
, though, looked rather different.  Her hair was darker and longer.  Much, much longer than either of the two boys.  Her smile was mirthless and her skin was olive.  I supposed she was attractive, if you like that sort of thing.  Which personally I don't.

At the end of the hallway waited ano
ther door, slightly ajar.  I could see a light from within the room.  I put the dead portraits behind me and crept closer towards the light.  What the fuck was going on?  This was what I really hated, when weird shit is happening and I had no way of explaining or understanding it.  It happened a lot when chasing zombies.

I pushed the door open just enoug
h to peek through and raised my bloody axe over my head, ready to splinter some more craniums.  What I saw inside was the most violent and disturbing scene I'd witnessed yet. 

The light came from a fire that burned in the corner, giving the room an eerie red glow that gave me the creeps.  Furniture was strewn about every which way.  The carpeting was torn from the floor.  The room stank.  It stank like a zombie convention of five hundred or more.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.  This was where the zombies had fed.  I saw bones piled in the corner by the fire, the flesh mostly gone, but still hanging off in some parts.  More blood than I had ever seen in one place doused the entire area, like a sickening sort of paint that gleamed in the firelight, making me want to hurl.  I knew with a sinking heart that there was no way one zombie would have caused all this.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed the door open all the way and stepped
in.  The stench hit me like a ton of bricks, but I knew I had to keep my composure if I was going to find and kill the rest of the zombies in the house.  Slinking slowly and stealthily through the room, I kept all my senses acute and fully alert, watching and listening, silently daring any undead to try and take me unaware.  Suddenly I heard a soft scratching noise and I whirled around on the heels of my feet to face my attacker. 

"Back to
the grave, you undead cur!”  I snarled viscously, only to discover that there was no one there.  What the fuck was that noise then?  Perking up my ears, I heard it again.  Was it coming from the closet?  Seemed like it to me. 

I creeped in
closer, fully aware that a zombie might have gotten itself stuck in there, capable of jumping out at me and ripping out my intestines for some sort of macabre snack.  Very cautiously I crept in closer and closer, finally raising my axe high over my head in preparation.  I reached forward, grabbed the doorknob, and swung it open as fast as I could.

             
A body tumbled out and onto my feet; it seems intact so I ruled out the possibility of it being leftovers from the zombie feast.  Was it even alive?  I considered checking the pulse but I didn't want to put my hand that close to this person's mouth, just in case.  Then the body stirred, and I could see it was still alive.  “Don't kill me...” he moaned softly and gently.  So far he didn't sound like a zombie.  Wait a minute... this was the second boy from the hallway photographs!  I recognized his hair.  That dreamy boy might still be alive! 

“
Oh please don't be a zombie,” I muttered loud enough for him to hear.  He backed away a little and he stood up, still shaking.  From where I stood his eyes looked normal, but I couldn't tell if he reeked of death, at least not in this room anyways.  God, he was even cuter in the flesh than the portrait.  He looked to be around my age.  He was about my size.  Underneath the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing I could see his body was lean and muscular, just like his brother.  Just below his mop of light brown hair sat two baby blue eyes that had turned red and swollen from crying.  My desensitized heart went out to him.  He stood there, staring at me with a look that combined fear and wonder while I stared back with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Please be human.
”  I begged him once more.

He blinked twice, then wiped his eyes
.  "I...  who are you?" he asked stammering fearfully, almost as if I might turn into his brother and eat him alive.

In a suave, confident tone, I replied,
“I'm your savior, baby.  I'm gonna get you out of here, to safety.  I'm the one who...”

“
Nash? Is that you?”  I jumped.  How did he know my name?

"Yeah, that's me.  M
ind telling me how you knew?”  Was that too rough?  Maybe, but the zombie communications networks were good.  And I had killed so many, maybe they were on the lookout for me.  “Nashville Summers, legendary zombie smacker!” he said. 

I sighed inwardly. 
I knew I was dreaming.  I had only killed a handful before today, and even still. If the zombies got it in their undead brains that I was a threat...  well, as tough as I am, I wouldn't survive an all-out zombie assault without a chainsaw or gun or something.

My rambling thoughts were interrupted by the boy's voice
.  "I knew you from school.  I'm Andrew Garrote.  I guess you didn't know me but..."

I had known him, a little
.  Now I was wondering how I could have forgotten.  Back when school was still in session, before folks got too scared of the rampant zombies to leave their houses for any extended amounts of time, I'd had a few classes with Andrew.  I knew that his forefather, Silias Garrote, had built this town back in the 1700s. His fortune had since been squandered on gambling, booze, and women by his relatives.  At that moment I didn't give a good goddamn about ol' Silias or his fucking relatives.  My thoughts were on Andrew and getting him the fuck out of this house.

But first..
. oh shit, I'd have to tell him about his family.  This would not be fun.  I interrupted him, gently slinging my axe back over my shoulder and putting my hand softly on him.  "Listen, Andrew...”  I began slowly, “about your family...”

Sadly, he looked down at the floor
.  "My brother killed them all, didn't he?"

“
No!”  I said sharply.  Andrew looked up at me.  “He's not your brother anymore.  He's a zombie.”

Once again
Andrew cast his eyes downward mournfully.  In all his time hiding from his brother in the closet he'd cried himself dry.  He had no more tears to spend.  "I know," he told me softly, breaking my heart all over again.  "But..." he looked around the room frantically and huddled closer to me.  “Where is he now?  He might come back!”

             
"It's ok," I replied.  "You don't have to worry about him.  I took care of him outside earlier.”

             
He nodded, understanding.  "But what about my sister?"

             
No sooner were those words out of his mouth when I heard a loud undead roar from behind me. I felt a strong cold hand punch me in the head from behind, sending me sprawling on the floor.  "Hello baby brother," a raspy yet distinctly female voice said.  Andrew only whimpered and shank away, back towards his closet.  "No.  Stay out here." the voice of the female zombie purred.  She stepped over my collapsed form in the direction of my new friend.

"Victoria…
" he cried softly, wistfully, knowing that this was, and yet was not, his sister.  He glanced at her with bright eyes full of fear and stood unmoving right in her path.

"No
!" I yelled, lifting my leg up to kick her in the shin as she walked by.  It!  I kept reminding myself that this is no longer a person anymore.  It is a thing.  The girl zombie let out a hoarse yell mostly of anger, partially of surprise, and fell flat on her face, mere inches from Andrew.  It hissed and swiftly turned back in my direction, eager for revenge.  But I was ready this time and swung my axe around in a wide arc to prevent her from getting too close.  Leaping to my feet I took the offensive, closing in on her with my deathly blade. 

"
Andrew, get back in the closet" I warned, but he just stood there, transfixed by the epic battle.

Finally
, I stopped hesitating, and lunged for the she-beast, bringing the axe down towards its head.  With a slight shriek, it lifted an arm to deflect the blow.  The fingers on its left hand were cut clean off by my weapon and went scattering over the floor.  Her goal was achieved though.  Instead of cutting its brain in two, my axe merely left a thick cut, stretching from the zombie's right eye to the left hand corner of its mouth.

Alone and unaided
, the undead thing that had been Victoria realized it had not a chance in Hell of defeating my axe. With a final angry hiss in my direction, she leaped out of my weapon’s reach and took off down the hallway from which I had entered.  With the spell of his sister now broken, Andrew walked over and reached out to me.  "You hurt her...  is she gonna die now?"

"No.”  I stated through angry, bared teeth
.  My heart pounding hard from excitement and terror.  "Haven't you seen any horror movies?  If you want to kill a zombie it needs a blow to the head...  ya gotta hit the brain.  That will kill it, for good this time."

"Why's that?"

"Why do zombies eat brains?  Who the fuck knows?  It just will, and I'm not in a position to be questioning it.”  I ran to the doorway to see Victoria running for dear life, so to speak. 

"Get back in your closet..
.  I wanna take care of her now.”

Timidly he agree
d, not wanting to be alone, but fully aware that the alternative was being dead.  "I'll come back for you.”  I told him as he closed the door.  "I promise."