ZOMBIE'S DOOM? "Chronicles of Jack Doom" (19 page)

Sticking the handle of the hot frying pan into the cardboard center roll of the towels, I crushed the flimsy roll against the handle of the pan using it as a homemade potholder.

I ran back into the living room and knelt down beside Cassandra as she continued to snore, unaware of the operation that I had just performed.

As I put the bottom of the hot iron skillet on the gaping wound left by the boobular extraction, I saw steam rising from the girl's chest and heard the sizzling sound of flesh being seared as the wound was cauterized to stop Cassandra from bleeding to death.

The drug-laced whiskey was far exceeding expectations, and Cassandra had hardly moved from the time I had stretched her out on the floor to prep her for her boob-job, to the time I placed the hot iron frying pan on her chest.

With her wound cauterized and the bleeding stopped, I removed the skillet from her chest and went back into the kitchen.

The fire in the sink was almost out and was beginning to emit more smoke from the embers, even though the kitchen window was open and disseminating most of it outside, the residual fumes were beginning to sting my eyes.

I dipped the frying pan into the sink where the solitary twin was soaking, and filling it with some of the marinating liquid (H2O), I doused the smoldering embers in the adjoining sink.

I knew that the zombies that I had sighted when I fetched the whiskey must be close by now if they had stayed true to their course, and a sense of urgency began to set in.

"I don't have much time, I've got to make this quick, I don't want those eaters out there trapping me in this house," I muttered, as I dipped my hands into the cold water and pulled the sunken pocketknife and amputated breast out of the sink.

Fortunately, the short blade on my folding pig sticker was perfect for hollowing out the mango-orange colored core of Cassandra's cut off tit, and in addition, the rounded portion of the blade worked well to scrape off the left over fatty tissue from the skin, so that part of the preparation went quickly.

With the breast now hollow and the inside devoid of excess fat and gland, I inserted the prepared skin into the plastic bag of salt.

Salt serves to draw all of the moisture out of the hide, thereby tanning it and turning it into a fine leather product.

Although non-iodized salt works best for tanning, the kitchen salt was all I had, and it would have to do. It would take longer, but I had all the time in the world, that is unless I got myself killed running around this planet from hell.

With the tit salted and bagged, I wiped down my knife and stuck it back into my front pocket, then returned to the living room and to the
one tit
wonder still sound asleep on the floor.

I tucked the tanning breast underneath my arm and unlaced the white cord from one of Cassandra's afore mentioned high-heeled sneakers. Later I would use it for the drawstring of my new leather diddy bag, or
titty
bag, whichever you prefer.

Stuffing the shoelace into my pocket, I conducted a quick search of the house for Carla's stash of 12 gage shotgun shells, which I found rather quickly hidden behind the same couch she had laid in wait behind to ambush me, and was now slumped over.

It wasn't much, just a couple of boxes, but it was enough to justify dragging the double barreled shotgun with me.

I wrenched the coach gun from Carla's rigor mortis grip and collected my machete, pistol, and whiskey, then headed for the door, stopping briefly to take a furtive look through the curtains decorating the front window to make sure that I wouldn't run head-long into a swarm of ravenous maggot magnets malingering by my truck.

With the coast as clear as it was ever going to get, and Cassandra beginning to stir, I bid her a fond farewell just before I bolted out the front door and jumped into my truck.

"Goodbye Cassandra or whatever your name really is. Remember, I just wanted to
play doctor
with you, not become your doctor, but don't worry, no matter what happens from here on out, I'll keep abreast of the situation for you."

As I tossed Cassandra's salted tit onto the passenger seat along with my pistol, donated shotgun, and the rest of my stuff, and started my getaway vehicle, I realized that I didn't want Cassandra waking up screaming in pain, or screaming just because she was no longer symmetrical, or maybe a little bit of both, thereby inviting every undead and unfed flesh eater that was within earshot of Carla's house in for dinner.

I mean, how in the world is she ever going to learn her lesson if she doesn't get to walk around one tit lighter and maybe slightly off balance for at least a month or two?

I spotted a couple of small hordes of the undead that had seen me make my exit from the house and that were approaching my location as rapid as their unstable staggering could bring them. So I decided to lure them away from Cassandra to give her a fighting chance to enjoy her newly balanced life.

I put the truck in gear and drove out of Carla's front yard and onto the street, where I slowly drove back toward the river honking the horn and shouting.

"Fuck you eaters, come and get me, you disease-ridden pieces of shit."

I have to admit; sometimes I can be quite the charmer.

My ploy worked as my engine idled and pushed the truck down the street at a speed equal to that of a normal adult's pace who was briskly walking along.

With the horn bellowing out its harsh and annoying sound at equally timed intervals, along with a few choice words yelled from the cab of my truck, I led several of the gathering hordes, and many of the smaller groups of two or three (their flies included) down the road behind me in pursuit of what they hoped would be their next unholy meal.

As a last ditch effort to make a distracting noise in the opposite direction from which I'd come. Before continuing on to the interstate 40, I stopped the truck about a mile into my journey back to the river because I just couldn't resist taking a couple of potshots at the lead zombies in the growing herd that was following.

My choice of weapons to carry out this task was the trusty Kel-Tec Sub-2000 which I pulled from behind the seat where I had stashed it.

The Sub-2000 is an inexpensive, but difficult to obtain (at least it was before the zombie plague decimated our world) high capacity 9mm carbine.

A non-assuming yet effective pistol caliber weapon, the Sub-2000 folds in the middle and locks in place at half its functioning size for easy and safe transport, while standing ready to be called into action at a moment's notice.

By sliding a latch and flipping the barrel back into its firing configuration, with one slap of the bolt handle a round is chambered and the rifle is ready to be fired.

The whole operation can be accomplished in well under five seconds.

This impudent little firearm is lightweight, rugged, reliable, and was my deceased son Jacob's favorite gun, which he used very successfully in the ongoing war against zombies and reprobate humans alike.

"Okay ladies, come and get it," I yelled at the mix of male and female zombies nearing the tailgate of my truck, as I flicked the blued barrel of the folded rife into zombie killing mode.

I popped off two full metal-jacketed lead projectiles of the 9mm variety into the head of the undead walking corpse nearest to me (about twenty yard away). And watched as my bullets penetrated its face and slammed into the inside of the back of its skull, causing the usual large chunks of diseased brain to be ejected out of the back of the head, along with generous portions of hair-laced skin and shattered bone.

My generosity stopped after the first zombie collapsed in the middle of the road, two bullets per zombie was not only a waste of ammunition, but a waste of my valuable time as well.

For this particular crowd of flesh eaters, from this point on, I would allocate only one headshot to each of the remaining trailing zombies that I chose to put down.

Unless one or two of them begged for more than a solitary shot to their cranium, and because I am a kind and generous man, then of course I would be more than happy to oblige them.

Although I enjoyed watching every one of the zombies that I shot die just feet away from me, my plan was not to spend a lot of time annihilating this horde of the starving undead that I had led away from Cassandra.

The main purpose of leading the zombies away from the house, was to try and insure that Cassandra could live to enjoy the surprise that I had
left
for her, the surprise that in my opinion she had begged for, and that I was congenial enough to give to her free of charge.

I was anxious to leave the scene and continue on to Indiana in pursuit of my former friend the Sarge, so I incorporated extreme prejudice as I weighted down five more of the walking cadavers with hot lead, and was back in my truck before the last one hit the ground.

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ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE

"Lieutenant Zeem!"

"Yes Captain Xarr?

"Your report Lieutenant!"

"As per your request Captain Xarr, I have compiled a list of recommended adjustments in the experimental groups that I think will enhance the outcome of our mission," Lieutenant Zeem answered.

The Captain of the interstellar spaceship stared at his new Lieutenant with a curiously angry look on his face.

"So far Lieutenant, your report consists of only one sentence, and I have already found issue with two of your statements within that sentence," Captain Xarr complained.

"Captain Xarr, please illuminate me," Lieutenant Zeem begged with as much dignity as he could muster, as his thoughts turned to the previous officer that had been 2nd in command.

"First of all Lieutenant Zeem, do I look like the kind of Ship's Captain that might
request
something from one of my crew members?" the irate Captain inquired.

"No sir, Captain Xarr," Lieutenant Zeem answered, his eyes bulging as he looked from side to side hoping to get some kind of sign from another member of the crew of how to handle this frighteningly awkward situation.

However, all members of the bridge crew now focused intently on the mechanism in front of them, pretending that they were busy doing their jobs and not listening in on the conversation between their Captain and his newly appointed 2nd in command.

All except the security detail, they stood at attention, poised and ready to take Lieutenant Zeem into custody if the ship's Captain so ordered.

"Pardon me Captain Xarr, I did not mean any disrespect, it was a figure of speech," Lieutenant Zeem whined, as he lied through his alien teeth. "I am still attempting to master the vernacular of the language in this sector of the planet."

"Then I suggest you spend a vast amount of your off duty time in the ship's library getting familiar with the speech patterns of the inept indigenous people of this world."

"Yes Captain Xarr, I will take your advice under consideration," Lieutenant Zeem answered.

"I see. Well thank you so very much for considering my unassuming and deficient attempt to counsel you in the ways of improving yourself. Which by the way,
would
make you a better staff officer under my command, and thereby make you
much
more fit for duty as second in command on my inadequate little interstellar spaceship," the Captain stated in a monotone voice, as he glared at his newly appointed underling.

"You are most welcome Captain Xarr," the unwitting officer answered, as the bridge crew looked at each other and cringed.

"Lieutenant Zeem, would you like to know the other issue I have with your report so far?" Captain Xarr asked, gritting his teeth.

"Yes sir, Captain Xarr!" the young office answered loudly, oblivious of his captain's ire.

"Well
Lieutenant
Zeem, you stated earlier, and I quote."

"I have compiled a list of recommended adjustments in the experimental groups that
I think
will enhance the outcome of our mission."

"Yes Captain Xarr, those were my exact words," Lieutenant Zeem boasted. "I have researched the past performance of all of the experimental groups, and I believe that I can recalibrate our instruments both aboard ship and the microchips implanted in the experimental groups to the proper adjustments, which might greatly enhance the outcome of our mission.