The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel (8 page)

“Yeah,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m okay.”

“Another nightmare?”

“I’m okay, Marcus. Go back to sleep.”

“Maybe you need to go back on the Zoloft again. You know, to even you out a bit.”

Even her out. That’s what she thought happened while she was on Zoloft for a year-and-a-half after Tyrell was born. “I’m okay,” she insisted. “Really. It was just a dream.”

It was just a dream. Memories, really, of when the postpartum possessed her, planted thoughts and feelings in her head that weren’t hers.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m fine.”

She got up and shook, but it wasn’t all from the crisp air conditioned air. She left the bedroom and looked in on Tyrell. He was in a deep sleep, the kind children have after a busy day of playing hard.

She went to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She slashed cool water on her face and looked in the mirror at herself. She figured the dream was because of some mild nerves about the interview tomorrow.

She had worked with women like the one Dr. Loews had described. She knew how to handle them. She just preferred not to be around them at all.

She went back into her bedroom and slid back into bed. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to have any more nightmares. She needed to bring her A-game tomorrow, and she needed her rest.

The only problem was the subconscious took orders from no one.

***

Billy rolled his tongue around inside Jenny’s mouth as he lay on top of her, sliding in and out of her. She closed her eyes and moaned with each thrust, clutching the sheets in sweet agony.

He pulled out of her. “Turn around and grab the headboard.”

She gasped, caught her breath, and rolled over. She pushed herself up onto her knees and grabbed the headboard. He quickly slid up behind her and reinserted himself. He put his hands in the hollows of her hips and fucked her some more.

When they had finished, they lay there side-by-side panting in the bed as the old window unit pumped out semi-cool air.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt passed over Jenny. Billy wasn’t her type at all, or at least that’s what she told herself. However, one thing had led to another and here they were.

“You’re clean, aren’t you?”

Billy smirked. “This’s a hell of a time to ask a question like that.”

“Well, are you?”

“Honey, if I were clean we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“Just get out.”

“With pleasure.”

***

              Marie Russo lay restless in her bed next to Mario. She had been in the mood before they went to bed, but Mario had said he was tired. He’d been tired a lot these days. Working and taking care of his mother was no bargain.

              Marie felt guilty for thinking so, but she just wished Mama Sophia would croak already. The woman had been in a decline for two years now, and it was taking its toll on her husband.

              He was going to see her in the morning after picking up some donuts along the way. She would’ve gone too, but someone needed to run the store. Besides, it was true that Mama Sophia didn’t like her.

Maybe it was just as well. The last time Marie joined Mario on a visit, Mama Sophia acted as if she didn’t recognize her, as if she had no recollection of Marie whatsoever.

Marie wasn’t sure if this was legitimate or just an act. For not having recognized Marie, Mama Sophia was still awfully cool toward her. Either the old bitch was faking, or perhaps she was picking up on whatever she detected when she first met Marie.

There were remarks about Marie’s Sicilian heritage.

“Why couldn’t you find a nice Napolitano girl, Mario?”

“Don’t turn your back on her, Mario.”

“Just remember, Mario, when Sicilians hug you with one arm they stab you in the back with another.”

“Mario, what if your babies come out dark?”

Mama Sophia almost didn’t come to their wedding, which was fine by Marie at the time, but her absence would’ve been like a knife in Mario’s heart. He was able to convince her to attend the wedding in the end after much begging and pleading.

The reception reminded Marie of a grade school dance. The Napolitano side and the Sicilian side each stuck to their side of the banquet room with little to no interaction with the other half. Marie remembered that when she and Mario went from table to table to greet their guests (which took all goddamned night because there were four hundred guests), when she was at one side’s table, the other side shot them dirty looks, and vice versa.

Marie’s family was no bargain either. Poor Mario, when they were dating, Marie’s father insisted on chaperoning them. Two grown adults requiring a chaperone—but that was the Sicilian way.

She remembered her father, a stern man, sitting through the movie Black Rain with them. He kept sucking his teeth and shaking his head every time Michael Douglas cursed or someone got killed.

Any other man would’ve run screaming the other way, but not Mario. Maybe it was because he was Italian, raised in the old school. He understood. His patience paid off because he eventually grew on her father. When he asked for her hand in marriage, her father was impressed by the gesture and granted his blessing.

Mario was a good man. He was a peacekeeper in both families, and she admired him for it. He deserved time with his mother, and she would be patient. Mario would go and keep Mama Sophia company, recount memories, and talk about the old days. She seemed to remember fifty years ago better than fifty minutes ago, but the doctor had said that was the normal pattern of senile dementia.

Marie lay there and wondered if her children would be so good to her one day. It wasn’t easy when her mother died. Mario was right there at her side at the hospital. Her mother had tripped on the edge of a carpet and fallen, breaking her hip on the coffee table.

When she was recovering in the hospital, she had become so confused. She mistook Mario for Salvatore, Marie’s brother. Mario didn’t correct her. He only smiled and played the role. “If it makes her smile,” he always said.

Marie would be patient. Her base needs would have to wait until Mario was less distracted. She reached down and slipped her fingers beneath her pajama shorts and tended to her hunger.

***

Lenny lay in his bed with the air conditioning straining to cool his small room in the hotel. He wore a half grin as he dreamt of riding on the Magma cycle with Billy sitting in the sidecar. The boardwalk was crowded with life-sized pizza slices and ice cream cones wearing contorted faces that tried to eat the tourists.

Lenny nodded gravely to Billy, who began firing the magma cannon at the ravenous food monsters. With each hit there was an explosion, and pieces of pizza, cotton candy, and taffy plastered the frightened tourists. When all was said and done, and everyone was covered in sugar and nougat, Lenny and Billy were praised as heroes and given the key to the city.

Lenny rolled over on his side and squeezed his pillow tightly, reveling in the glory of a super job well done. Smuggler’s Bay was safe…

…for now.

***

Chief Holbrook walked home from The Jolly Roger. He enjoyed this time of night. Smuggler’s Bay was quiet. The Bennies were back in their hotel beds with their families and friends sleeping peacefully. The Guidos were out of the bars and clubs and in their beds as well…or someone else’s if they were lucky.

He was looking forward to taking Robbie on the boardwalk this weekend and going on some rides. This time of year it was difficult for Holbrook to break away and spend time with his son. There was always some kind of emergency or pressing matter.

Robbie never complained though. Holbrook was grateful for that. He was a good kid. Despite growing up in Smuggler’s Bay, the kid never grew tired of the attractions, and he never took them for granted.

Holbrook supposed it wasn’t just the games and the rides. It was time they spent together doing ‘guy stuff.’ Racing cars in the arcade, riding the water slides, driving the go karts…Holbrook relished these moments with Robbie.

After Labor Day, when things slowed down to a crawl, he would have plenty of time to hang out with Robbie. Even though school started, they always had the weekends. The boardwalk was still open and there were no lines for anything. It was like they had the whole boardwalk to themselves.

Holbrook strolled up to his front door, weary from the day’s work. It was a long, hot day, as was every day during peak season. He and his officers had their fill of public intoxication, fist fights, underage alcohol poisoning, and storeowner complaints. They’d wake up in a few hours and start all over again.

But, for the moment, Smuggler’s Bay was quiet.

Chapter 6

August 21

Chief Holbrook struggled to pull the man off his deputy, but his jaws locked on his deputy’s arm like a pit bull, and the driving rain made him slick. It was like trying to catch a greased pig.

“Jesus, Jim, get this crazy fuck off me!”

The man with dark circles under his eyes ripped off a chunk of Gary’s forearm with his teeth and began to chew it.

Holbrook grabbed Gary and dragged him away from the cannibal, as Gary clamped a hand over his wound. Blood squirted between his fingers, and he groaned in pain.

As the entire town of Smuggler’s Bay had inexplicably degenerated into rioting, the other officers were grappling with other attackers who were snapping their jaws at them like a bunch of land sharks.

“Use the Tasers!”

Officer Pike shoved a very sickly looking woman off of him and unsheathed his Taser. He aimed and fired the barbs right into her chest. The Taser clicked as it sent 50,000 volts into the woman.

She didn’t even flinch.

She lunged forward and grabbed the officer, closing the circuit. His body went stiff, and he fell to the ground, taking her with him.

“Help him!” Gary shouted at Holbrook.

Holbrook lowered Gary to the boardwalk and ran to his fallen officer, extending his baton. He began to swing, connecting with the woman’s arms, but she showed no indication of pain. Instead, she was rather intent on trying to bite Pike’s face.

Her arms broke from Holbrook’s blows, which brought her closer to her target as she collapsed under her own weight. Pike palmed her forehead and pushed her teeth away from his face, bending her head backward at what should’ve been a painful angle. Her putrid breath made him want to puke.

“Help me, Jim!”

Holbrook didn’t know what drug this girl was on, but he’d never seen anything like this. The smell was beyond disgusting. He swung at her head, and he felt her skull crack under the force of his blow, but she kept snapping at the officer beneath her.

Screw the civilian review board, and screw the mayor. This was now a matter of self-defense. Holbrook brought his baton down on her skull repeatedly until her head actually caved in. The woman gave one final death rattle and became still.

Pike threw her lifeless body to the side, and Holbrook pulled him to his feet. “You okay, Joe?”

“Yeah. Thanks. What the fuck’s going on?”

Holbrook looked around them. There had to be at least a dozen of these attackers.

              “Where’d they all come from?” asked Joe.

              “Probably a damned drug party. I’m thinking bath salts.”

              Holbrook drew his gun and aimed it at the assailant lunging at Officer Joann Campbell, a middle-aged man with glasses askew on his face, dressed in khaki pants and a tropical shirt.

Joann sent him flying backward with a well-placed front kick. She hit the man square in the chest, but the man appeared unfazed.

              He looked at Joann and snarled as he staggered his way back over, reaching out for her.

Remembering the girl whose skull he caved in, Holbrook aimed for the man’s head and fired. The man dropped immediately and lay still, bleeding out on the boardwalk.

              “Shit! Gary!” shouted Joann over the thundering surf. She splashed through the brine in time to pull an old woman who had tripped over her own walker and was crawling toward Gary. Gary was kicking her reaching hands away with his feet, but she just kept coming.

              “We need some backup on the boardwalk,” shouted Holbrook into his radio. “We have multiple assailants biting our officers.”

              His radio clicked, and there was a voice, but he wasn’t able to make out what it said over the wind and thrashing surf.

              Joann grabbed the old woman by the ankles and pulled her away from Gary.

Holbrook started to walk over to them to help, but there was the crash of a wave and a wooden bench slid across the boardwalk with the surge of water, taking his legs out from under him.

              He dropped his gun, which got washed up against the roll-down metal gate of Billy Blake’s shop. He crawled toward it, sea foam and salt water splashing his face and blurring his vision, as he felt something large wash up against him.

              He turned around to see Joann shoot the old woman in the head, when a hand reached out for his face. He rolled sideways and out of the grip of a young blonde haired woman reaching out for him, her dark eyes feral with hunger.

He kicked her away as another wave crashed, the surge sending the both of them crashing against Billy Blake’s metal gate. He splashed around in the water, his hands frantically searching for his gun.

The rush of water had rolled the young woman so that she was facing away from Holbrook. The back of her wet shirt read ‘Zombie Patrol.’ He took the opportunity to try and scramble away from her, but another surge of surf sent a heavy decorative flower pot across his path, crashing into Billy’s gate and crushing it inward.

The young woman was thrown up against the metal gate. She saw Holbrook, her eyes wide with rage, her mascara running. She looked like a monster.

Holbrook saw his gun just inside Billy’s store. He reached underneath the bent-in gate as she splashed in the water, struggling to get him.

His fingertips touched the barrel of his gun, pushing it farther into the store. He felt fingers grabbing his legs, and he kicked wildly, pushing the woman away.

He looked over his shoulder as he saw Joann dragging Gary over, the water helping her move him. She let go of Gary and grabbed the young woman’s ankles, pulling her away from Holbrook.

There was another crash of a wave, and Joann lost her footing as water took her legs out. She and Gary slid toward the bent in gate, where Holbrook lay kicking, trying to get to his feet.

Joann reached out and pulled at the woman’s blouse as she lunged at Holbrook. Gary was yelling something, but the storm was drowning him out. Holbrook saw the other maniacs flailing about on the boardwalk, knocked down by the raging surf.

The young woman with the black eyes turned around and reached out for Joann as Holbrook kicked the assailant in the head. The bench that took Holbrook out before came crashing into the woman, pushing her underneath the bent-in gate and into Billy’s store.

Holbrook got to his knees as Joann crawled over to him. “Are you all right, Jim?” she shouted over the wind.

“Yeah. Thanks. That was close.”

Holbrook looked around Joann and saw Gary, who was pale and looked like hammered shit, but gave him a thumbs up.

There was another crash as Gary and Joann braced themselves against the metal gate. The rush of water swept Gary right under the bent-in gate and into Billy’s store.

The whole thing had happened so quickly that the horror of what had happened took a minute to register on Holbrook and Joann.

They heard Gary screaming inside.

Holbrook pulled Joann close. He grabbed her gun from her. “Watch my back!” he shouted into her face.

She nodded as he went down on the boardwalk and slid himself in a commando crawl under the gate. She produced her baton and extended it with the flick of her wrist as she took in the bedlam all around her.

Inside the store, Holbrook saw the woman biting into Gary’s neck as he convulsed on the floor. Clothing racks were toppled and thrown all over, and water was everywhere.

Holbrook took aim at the woman’s head as she crouched in front of Gary, chewing on his flesh, blood running down her chin and the front of her blouse. Gary screamed silently as he lay there helpless, a rack of short shorts reading ‘Succulent’ on the backs falling across his chest.

Another rush of water swept Holbrook farther into the store and right at the girl. She reached out for him, still chewing, as he shot her through her left eye socket, blowing her brains out the back of her head.

She fell limp over Gary’s body as Holbrook washed up against them. He grabbed his fallen officer and pulled himself over his friend. He rolled the inert woman’s body off and gazed into his friend’s wide eyes. He lay there completely still, blood still spurting out of the mortal wound on his neck.

Holbrook buried his face into Gary’s soaked shirt, crying. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t have been happening.

Holbrook looked up when he heard gunfire outside the store. He saw Joann’s face appear under the gate. “Are you all right?”

“Gary’s dead!”

Another rush of water flowed into the store, and Holbrook felt Gary’s body move under the current. He wiped his eyes and looked at his friend.

Gary was looking at him.

Holbrook froze as he gazed into Gary’s wild eyes. Gary screamed as he reached out for him. He sat up and grabbed Holbrook, pulling him close. He opened his jaws.

Holbrook pulled his right arm, his hand still clutching Joann’s gun, out of the water and jammed the gun inside Gary’s mouth.

Gary bit down on the metal, and Holbrook pulled the trigger.

***

Three Weeks Prior

Vinnie came out of the shower feeling like a new man. He threw on his Marco’s Pizza tee-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and a pair of cargo shorts.

He barreled into the kitchen to find his father pouring a bowl of cereal. “You want some of this?”

“No thanks. I’m meeting Mike at the Breakfast Shoppe.”

“Oh, right. It’s Friday. You were out late last night.”

“I was out with a girl. Then I ran into Billy Blake and we shot a game of pool.”

“Was it that girl from the Sunglass Hut?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“She’s had her eye on you all summer.”

“God, am I the only one who didn’t know this?”

“Apparently. She a nice girl?”

“She’s cool. We had a great time.” He remembered her warm mouth on his.

“So, how’s Billy doing?”

“Okay, I guess. He whopped me good on the table.”

“Yeah, he was always a shark.”

“Dad, why does Chief Holbrook hate Billy so much?”

Marco hesitated. It was the first time his son noticed the tension between the two men, or at least the first time he talked about it anyway. He figured Vinnie was old enough to hear about it.

“Billy messed around with Chief Holbrook’s wife once, or at least that was the way it appeared. He walked in on Billy trying to kiss her. She swore he told him no and was trying to get away from him.”

“Holy smokes.”

“Yeah. Chief Holbrook broke Billy’s nose and almost lost his badge over it. The whole thing almost destroyed his marriage.”

“Can’t blame him. Dad, why are you friends with Billy, anyway?”

“We grew up together. He’s really not a bad guy.” Vinnie arched a dubious eyebrow. “He’s just bad company around women.”

“Sounds like it. I’ll catch you later.”

“Okay. Tell Mike I said hi.”

Vinnie left the house and walked down Ocean Avenue. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, and he immediately began to sweat. So much for the shower.

He checked the outdoor patio of the Breakfast Shoppe, but it was empty. He opened the front door and was greeted by cool air as he entered. He saw Mike sitting in a booth looking at the menu.

Mike looked up and waved him over. Vinnie sat in the booth across from him and smiled. “Why do you always look at the menu? You always get the same thing.”

“Force of habit, I guess.”

Justine shuffled over to the table with her pen behind her ear. She took her order pad out of her apron pocket and the pen from behind her ear. “Hey, guys. What’re you all having?”

Vinnie gestured to Mike. “Age before beauty.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have a toasted bran muffin with a side of butter. And a cup of coffee.”

“You got it,” said Justine writing it down. “How about you, hon?”

“Two sunny-side up eggs, corned beef hash, and buttered white toast. And a coffee too, please.”

“Milk or half-and-half?”

“Milk.”

“Milk.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“Jesus,” said Mike. “I remembered when I used to be able to eat like that. You’d better be careful or you’ll become a fat old man like me.”

Vinnie chuckled. The large, antiquated wall unit was cranking out cool air, the white noise drowned out by Twisted Sister on the sound system (which consisted of a CD player and two small speakers on either side of the small shop).

Mike arched his eyebrow again. “You look tired. Been out late?”

Vinnie grinned. “As a matter of fact, I was.”

“Did you run into that sweet young girl?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Mike, intrigued, leaned forward. “All right, spill it.”