Regurgitated (Book 2) (The Filthy Apocalypse) (4 page)

His face is set as if in stone. “I say we go get her man.”

I’m in awe of him right now.

And now I’m getting pumped too. “Okay. Fuck it.” I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself for battle. “What do we have for weapons?”

Teddy opens the door to the backseat and grabs a large mallet. “This.”

“Not bad. But that’s it, right?”

“This was all Shep brought for our car.”

“Fucking Shep. So Verne and his group got all the weapons.”

We head back into the store, Teddy in the lead, me right behind him. For the time being, neither of us sees or hears anything.

Whatever the commotion was before, thing have totally quieted down now.

“Where do you think they are?” Teddy squeaks.

“Fucked if I know. This is stupid. I got a bad feeling about this.”

We continue creeping along the isle, past the first set of registers. And that’s when we see it. Verne, Martha, Shep and Nips are all running full speed toward us, their eyes as wide as human eyes can get.

“It got her!” Nips screams. “It fucking got her!” In my head, all I can think is how Nips is always telling us that a zombie “got” somebody. He seems to be the town crier for zombie attacks.

All of them race past us and out the door without another word. I look at Teddy and he looks at me, hefts the mallet in one hand. “Keep going,” he says, his face set and grim.

For some reason, I trust him. It turns out, life really can be like those dopey war movies where the regular dumbass becomes a hero and everyone starts following him.

I’m following Teddy Motherfucking Foreskin like he’s Malcolm X all of a sudden. Like I actually believe he can protect me from zombies with that stupid mallet.

Suddenly Teddy has become Thor in my eyes, but I suppose I’m desperate enough to follow anybody at this point.

We keep walking, slowly heading towards whatever awaits us.

Another person comes running, turns the corner and bolts past us. It’s that girl, Casey. She’s got snot pouring out of her nose and her mouth is wide open. She doesn’t even glance at us as she flies past.

“Christ, this must be really bad,” I whisper.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re going to kick their asses,” Teddy growls.

“I think whatever or whoever it is, they’re in isle six.”

He nods. “Okay. Come on.”

We reach isle six but Teddy holds up a hand like a military sergeant, motioning for me to stop and wait for his signal.

Now I hear something. Noise. My ears can’t seem to identify what the noise is, something so strange, so foreign that I don’t want to comprehend it. Guttural sounds, chewing, savage sounds, of flesh being torn and rendered. And the thing tearing and eating that flesh is smacking its lips in delight, with a constant chewing mouth that can never be satisfied.

I want to turn and run away just like everyone else did. Whatever they saw, it must have been horrible—so horrible they didn’t slow down for a millisecond when they saw us.

But Teddy is a soothing, calming presence. He holds the mallet up as if ready to swing it at any second. And now he’s beginning to peek around the end cap of the isle so as to see what’s going on.

And that’s when Teddy screams. “Oh…oh…oh fuck…oh fuckitty, shitting, fuck.”

“Teddy, what’s going on?”

He spins, his mouth open, eyes rolling like pinwheels. “Fuck me, I can’t take this shit anymore Danny—I gotta go. I gotta…” Ted drops the mallet and a dark wet spot spreads down his pants.

The motherfucker pissed his pants.

Some leader he turned out to be.

And then he’s running away, leaving me standing by myself. I consider following him, but now I’m a little curious, and kind of mad too. I’m not running away like everybody else.

I bend down, grab the mallet, and peak around the end cap to see what’s going on that’s so damn horrible.

And I do see. One of the people from Verne’s expedition—that quiet chick, Elisa—is being torn apart by a pair of zombie teenagers. I think they were Goths before they became undead, because they’ve got the dark clothes and Marilyn Manson look going on. Dark boots, black lipstick and jet black emo hair.

But whatever they were before, now they’re just zombies. And they’re trying to take Elisa’s legs off her body. Already her arms have been torn clean off her torso. Her breasts have been chewed off, and her organs are strewn across the isle, floating in a pool of blood.

Unfortunately, right near the feasting zombies, Fergi and Shep are crouched behind their shopping cart as if trying to remain invisible. I motion them to run but they just shake their heads.

They’re in a position where if they move, the zombies will likely take notice and come after them too. And unfortunately, the cart they’re hiding behind is only a couple of feet from Elisa’s dismembered body.

I’ve got a decision to make. I can do what the others did and run out of here, out to the relative safety of the parking lot, get in my car with Teddy Piss-pants, and drive away from this nightmare as fast as possible.

Or, I can be the movie hero.

And now that I’ve got all those medications in my car, I’m fairly certain I can get rid of my crotch rot and be ready to go to town on Fergi in a matter of days. If I save her life right now, she’s going to owe me big time. Beyond that, she’ll worship me. She’ll suck my dick every day at the top of the hour if I want her too.

This is my time. I raise the mallet over my head and utter a war cry. The two Goth zombies look up from their kill, startled. Their eyes fix on me and my blood goes cold.

It’s the scariest moment of my life, bar none. Those eyes are so evil, so filled with hunger and craving for my flesh—I’ve never felt anything like it. They stand up, quicker than I gave them credit for, and start to move towards me.

Once I’ve distracted the undead Goths, Fergi and Shep grab their cart and start running with away.

Thanks, guys. But I don’t blame them one bit.

I turn and run too. The problem is, there’s another few zombies here now. I’m not sure where these things came from. Maybe they have telepathy and call one another when a nice bite of food arrives on the scene. Maybe there’s so many that they just keep wandering until they happen across the human equivalent of a cheeseburger.

Which in this case means me.

I’m surrounded. The two Goths are behind me, and in front of me are two other zombies. One has a huge chunk taken from his cheek and neck. He’s wearing an apron as if he was working the deli counter here when he died. The other looks like a mechanic or something. He’s got only one hand.

I swing the mallet in a high arc over my shoulder, as if I were trying to nail a railroad spike into the ground. It crashes down on the zombie in the apron, just as his hands reach out to grab me. It hits his head perfectly—spot on—and there’s a heavy CHUNK sound as if I’ve just wacked a pumpkin.

His head practically explodes—at least two or three pieces of his skull and brains fly through the air—and his body topples to the side, lifeless. That was easy, I marvel.

But then again, I was able to hit him perfectly in the head at full strength.

A hand grabs the back of my shirt and I spin around. The two Goths are nearly on top of me now, lunging forward and trying to bite me. I’m not completely sure, but if this is anything like the movies, one bite and I’m going to be just like them.

My Nana only had that tiny little bite on her finger, come to think of it. A few hours later she was a goddamn nightmare—so I can’t let these things lay a tooth on me.

I swing the mallet again, crunching against the hand that’s grabbing my shirt. I can’t get proper leverage though, and the zombie won’t let go of me. The bigger Goth snaps within an inch of my face, and I retaliate with another sweep of my mallet, crashing into his jaw. Teeth and jaw pieces fly into the air and the dark haired teen falls backwards like a mannequin that’s been pushed over.

However, unlike the other zombie, this one begins clamoring to his feet again immediately. His jaw’s hanging at a strange angle but he’s still hungry and he might be able to bite me even with the injury I’ve given him.

I start to run, stutter stepping as I try to shake the mechanic zombie in front of me.

I think I’ve scooted by him, but his hand reaches out and snags me by my shirt at the last second.

I turn and swing the mallet yet again and it crashes into his shoulder. Part of him seems to cave in, but it doesn’t slow him down. He reaches around my shoulder with his other arm and leans in.

Suddenly I feel a piercing shock of pain as his teeth sink into the upper bicep of my right arm. I scream like a little bitch. And then I pound him with the hammer again, cracking his nose so hard that it plows into his face, cartilage turned into jelly, blood spraying everywhere.

He drops to his knees.

“You fucking bit me, you dick,” I cry, as I feel the pain from the bite on my arm.

I’m in shock. I smash the mallet across his skull, and a quarter of his brain flies out the back of his head as he slides to the floor. I stumble backwards, as the last two zombies continue to hunt me.

They’re too slow though, and with nothing else in front of me, I’m able to run and outdistance them easily.

I’m crying as I make my way to the exit of the store. At least I don’t have to worry about being left here, since I’m the driver. Fucking Teddy fucking Foreskin. He led me to my death and took off with piss running down his leg.

Why did I trust him? Why did I think he’d suddenly gone from being a complete fool to John F. Kennedy in the blink of an eye?

It doesn’t matter, though. Recriminations aside, I’ve been bit. The end is near.

When I get to the exit, Fergi and Teddy are still there, waiting for me. They look absolutely terrified.

“We were hoping you’d get out,” Fergi says.

“Shep took off with that asshole Verne,” Teddy explains. “They refused to stay and make sure you got out of there alive.”

It’s dark outside and my shirt is navy blue, so they don’t see the blood on my sleeve. I decide then and there not to mention my injury. God only knows what they’d do if they think I’m contaminated. Probably find a way to push me out of the car and steal it. They sure as shit wouldn’t want to be around me much longer, and I can understand why.

I’m going to be a goddamn zombie.

“We better get in the car,” I say, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “More of those things were still coming after me.”

“What about the other girl?” Teddy asks. “Were you able to rescue her?”

I stare at him. “Elisa? The girl being attacked in isle six?”

“Yeah.” He stares dumbly at me.

“You saw her arms and legs were torn off and her fucking organs were being thrown around like tiddlywinks,” I tell him. “Do you think I fucking rescued her?” My voice is rising. “Do you think I saved a girl with no fucking arms or legs or internal organs, you shithead?”

He shakes his head. “Probably not.”

“Probably fucking not. Wow, you are a genius. A goddamn genius, Ted.”

We get in the car. He’s sitting in the passenger seat with no goddamn clue what he’s done to me.

“You smell, Teddy. Like fucking piss.”

He turns to me. “Sorry I left you alone in there. I just…I couldn’t take it.”

“Whatever, man.” I turn the ignition and get to driving. My arm is killing me. I want to check the wound out but obviously I can’t do that in front of these two potential traitors.

I pull away from the Shaws just as two zombies lurch out the doors. Momentarily I slow down, staring in the rearview mirror at them as they come towards us.

“Danny? Danny, come on. Let’s go,” Teddy begs.

“I might fucking run them over,” I fume. These things have just ruined my life, taken my fucking soul, and I want some good old-fashioned revenge.

Fergi puts a hand on my shoulder and leans into me. “Danny. Please.”

“Please what.”

“We should go. We need to go to the sporting goods store and get some weapons.”

“Fuck that,” I hiss. “I’m done with this little expedition, okay? I nearly died in there just now.”

She sits back. “I know that. And you saved Shep and me. We owe you our lives.”

“Yeah? Great. What do I win?”

The zombies are still walking toward the car. I back up, spin the wheel and get ready to smash into them. I’m going to splatter them all over the cement. Let them crawl around like a couple of lobsters.

But then I realize I’ll probably total my car in the process. Do I really want to strand us here, at night, with no help in sight?

“Please, Danny,” Ted whines. “Please don’t do it.”

“Ah, fuck it.” I speed out of the lot, my tires spinning on the ground, kicking up dust and grit—the smell of burnt rubber is fresh in my nostrils.

We drive down the street to the Dick’s Sporting Goods store. Verne’s light blue van is already parked out front, and I park next to it. Nobody’s in the van though.

“They must be inside,” I say, leaning back and gritting my teeth. My wound is stinging and aching. I wonder what it looks like—Green, slimy—probably worse than the shit on my crotch. “You guys go ahead in,” I tell them. “I think I’m going to stay out here and try and decompress.”

Teddy glances at me nervously. “You wouldn’t leave us, would you? To get even?”

I stare at him. “You think I just killed myself so that I could drop you off and run away ten minutes later?”

Now he’s puzzled. “Killed yourself?”

Oops. I forgot, he doesn’t know I’m a dead man walking. “Yeah, I nearly killed myself back there. I put myself in danger to save Fergi, the last thing I’m going to do is take off on her now. You on the other hand…” I shake my head.

“I get it.” He opens his door. “I’m sorry I got scared and pissed my pants, man.

I’m fucking sorry. I’m a total pussy, Danny. Is that good enough for you? Do you want me to lick your sneakers next?”

“Get the fuck out of my car, dipshit. Just get out.”

“Fuck off.”

“Go fuck yourself, piss boy.”

He leans back in. “How’s your venereal disease doing?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about,” I say, laughing. “That piss you took in your pants must have drained the last bit of intelligence from your brain.