Byron : A Zombie Tale (Part 1) (10 page)

I was learning that there were advantages and disadvantages to being an animated corpse. On the one hand, I didn’t have to worry about being assaulted and violated by the creatures. But, on the other I was learning that my body was probably even more fragile now than while alive. My muscles, blood cells, and bones could no longer regenerate or heal. Any damage done to my body was permanent and could not be undone.

This particular moment in time, however, found me standing in contemplation over just how I was going to rescue my two Frat-brothers from the horde of living dead which had congregated below them. They were on the roof of a supermarket and all I had at my disposal was one baseball bat and one useless arm. I had to admit that it proved to be a bit of a quandary. I either needed a better weapon, or I needed some kind of distraction which could draw off the creatures.

I looked around and couldn’t see anything which would be helpful for either task. I had to venture off and see if there was anything nearby that I could use to my advantage. The more I walked around in the midst of the beasts, the less I became worried that they would turn around and start attacking me. It was really obvious to me that they were all focused on their own need to feed the burning inside them.

The supermarket was set within a larger shopping plaza. I headed away from where my friends were safely hiding upon the roof over to the plaza’s massive parking lot. If there’s one thing that New Jersey had a lot of, it was large plazas. Scanning the stores that surrounded me, I got an idea. Near the far end of the plaza was one of those large home improvement superstores, and with any luck, my possible salvation.

I headed across the parking lot. As I had expected, the creatures never so much as glanced my way. I was dead – one of them. They desired sustenance and that I could never provide them.

It was nice to not have the same fear I’d had while with John earlier, or with Pam. These creatures wanted nothing from me, nor I from them. I could easily make my way about and accomplish anything I needed to without being molested at all. This was great!

I walked with more confidence and was pleasantly surprised when I found that the power was still on within the building. It was admittedly surreal walking through a major store like this without so much as another person in sight. Being here at an early morning opening wasn’t even as desolate as the solitude which I felt being here now. It was pretty nice.

The hardware and tool department was my first stop to find a box of self-tapping stainless-steel screws, drill bits, and some sheet-metal plates. My next stop was to a bench vise where I could shape the metal into something useable. Afterwards, I made my way to the customer service counter where I was in luck to find a portable drill charged and ready to go, along with some backup batteries.

All told, my handiwork took about an hour to complete, but the end results were well worth the wait! The metal plates I had fashioned into a sort of sleeve which I used to encapsulate and splint my arm; the stainless steel screws held the fractured pieces of my arm in place. Admittedly, it was strange drilling into my own flesh, but I was happy that I no longer felt pain. When the splint was finished it looked more like an iron wrist-guard than an impromptu splint, which gave me another idea.

Now, as I had learned from combating these creatures, the most vulnerable part of the undead was their head – likely because it housed the brain and the center of the nervous system. So, with some additional time and metal plates I fashioned myself a helmet to protect my head from any accidental, or intentional, damage. I again secured it using the stainless screws. There was no way this thing was coming off.

Pleased with my creations, I made my way to the landscaping department to find some better tools with which I could fend-off the roving hoards of undead. To my sides I strapped a pair of machetes, while I also took a brush-hook from the rack. Though not as menacing as the scythe, the brush hook was an imposing tool. With a long handle and a short, curved blade on the end, it reminded me of the Japanese
Naginata
only with a shorter blade.

Back in the tool department I found a couple of battery-powered gas-cartridge driven nail guns. These would need some modifications for effective use, so I decided to grab a bunch of them along with extra batteries and boxes of nails. My pack was filling up quickly, but I didn’t feel the strain of the weight. Still, it would be difficult to fight with such a heavy pack strapped to my back and I decided instead to fill a shopping cart with all of the provisions I had gathered.

It must have been a funny sight for John and Tim to see. There I was pushing a shopping cart full of stuff across the parking lot. As I got closer, I was sure that they would be able to see my crudely fashioned metal helmet, and even the wrist-guard which now held my fractured left limb together.

As I neared the growing crowd of creatures collected at the base of the wall, I could hear John yelling to me. I looked up and waved to him, but couldn’t see him. There must have been something wrong.

The shopping cart rolled to a stop against the curb and I ran forward, tearing the brush hook out of it, swinging with reckless abandon. It was an amazing tool to use in brush, but also a fantastic weapon to wield with a horde of undead! The blade cleanly sliced through several skulls with a single swing. Re-animated bodies fell to the ground again – this time completely lifeless.

My anonymity amongst the throng of walking corpses was gone. They now took particular interest in me. With the brush hook I was able to keep them at a distance, but as more turned their attention away from John and Tim on the roof of the supermarket I was quickly being flanked by the horde. I kept swinging away at the oncoming masses in great arcs, striking down one or two beasts with each blow as I did. However, there were soon far too many for me to be able to swing the brush hook with any efficiency.

I dropped the long-handled tool and removed the pair of machetes from their scabbards. Like a maniac I pushed forward into the crowd, cutting a swath through the wall of rotting flesh. Within a few minutes I had managed to reach the fire escape at the base of the wall. I decided that this was where I needed to make my stand.

“John!” I shouted up, “Tim! Come on, it’s time to go.”

As the final word escaped my lips I could hear the pounding of running feet on the fire escape above me. They were coming. As the bottom staircase lowered itself to the ground I looked to see them stomping down toward me.

“Here,” I said to them handing them each a machete, “take these.” John handed me his baseball bat in exchange and together the three of us began to pummel the creatures. With me in the front swinging haphazardly at anything ahead of me, and with John and Tim standing back to back, their shoulders pressed against my back, we cut a new path toward the shopping cart I had left behind.

“Christ, Byron,” complained Tim, “what the hell took so long?”

“Sorry,” I barked back at him, “I had to fix an arm that some idiot smashed to pieces with a broomstick.”

“Oh, right,” was Tim’s solemn answer. I could swear that I heard John chuckle.

“Listen,” I said to them both, “let’s get to the cart, and get the hell out of here; the more distance I can get from these things, the better! Plus, we need to get back to Pam and Evan.”

We fought like devils leaving heaps of lifeless corpses as we passed. Once we reached the cart we grabbed as much out of it as we could carry and then broke into a sprint across the parking lot.

Tim and John were both fast runners – having both been athletes during high school. I, on the other hand, had the extra advantage that I did not tire or need to breathe. We ran as far as we could and as fast as our legs would allow. Within a few minutes we had managed to put some distance between us and the creatures pursuing us.

As we approached John’s apartment I could hear the creatures outside the building become crazed in excitement. Instantly, I knew that Evan had been firing off blood-filled balloons in order to divert the undead horde from our trail. I dared not allow myself a breath for the sake of my friends’ safety.

The distraction was enough for us to make our ways up the knotted rope and back into the Sanctuary. The raiders had returned – and with another comrade at arms!

Back in the safety of the sanctuary we all congregated very much as we had before – in a circle with our backs up against the wall. Except now, we had one extra member among us so someone had to share a wall. Given that I was a member of the walking dead, it goes without saying that nobody shared with me. In fact, as had happened before, all of the weapons were within easy striking distance of my head. It was good to see that I had made such a good and trusting impression on them. The only thing that gave me any solace was that as opposed to last time when my head was bare to any would-be attacker, this time it was protected by my improvised home improvement store metal helmet.

Evan looked me up and down, from the metal gauntlet which now adorned my arm – and repaired the fracture Tim had given me with his broomstick – to the sheet metal helmet and scowled.

“What’s that look about?” I asked him feigning hurt feelings.

Evan shook his head and looked out the window. I didn’t want to press him on the issue, so I decided to ask Tim a question instead. But, as I opened my mouth to speak with him Evan finally decided to put in his two cents.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Evan asked me. His voice was low and timid. I could tell that he had been trying to figure me out.

“No,” I replied. “I don’t really feel pain anymore. The nerves don’t seem to relay anything to my brain other than the burning caused by whatever catalyst drives us undead.”

Evan’s eyes brightened up. “Wait! Burning? What burning?” He asked with excitement.

It suddenly occurred to me that I provided us all with a great opportunity. I knew, in a sense, what the poor bastards down there were feeling. I knew what it was like to be undead – and I could explain it to my friends. I could explain weaknesses and strengths.

“My entire body burns – always! It doesn’t stop – it only starts to ebb a little as stiffness comes into my limbs. And, when I smell blood – WHOA! Forget it! It hurts so goddamn much. It’s unbearable.” I paused. “The only place I don’t feel the burning is in my head – thank God!”

“Stop right there,” Evan again interjected – his excitement even greater than before. “You don’t feel any burning in your head?”

I shook my head, “no.”

“But,” he continued his questioning, “you feel it throughout the rest of your body?”

I nodded. “Isn’t that what I just said?” As soon as the words left my lips I knew that the question fell on deaf ears – I knew that look on Evan’s face, he was lost in thought.

He suddenly leaned forward onto his hands and knees and crept over to me. “Do you mind?” He asked as his had reached up to my neck.

I shrunk back from him. “What the hell?” I said to him, “Back off, you creeper!” I was angry with him, he was never one to violate another’s personal space, let alone touch someone else. Evan had to be the biggest germophobe I had ever known!

Evan never saw my aversion to his touch – he was still deep in thought. He was operating almost on instinct like my body had done with the dying cop. As his hand touched my neck he shouted out loud, “A-Ha! That’s it!”

I grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from my neck then looked him square in the face. “What’s what, Evan?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

I looked around at everyone else in the room. They all looked as dumfounded as I was. John simply shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.

“No,” I replied, “would you mind filling the rest of us in?” I pushed him backward by his extended arm and then released his wrist. Evan scrambled back to his place on the wall.

“Your neck,” he said.

“What about it?” I asked. But, it appeared that John had picked up on the meaning of Evan’s babbling.

“Byron, your broken neck is why you don’t feel the burning in your head.” John explained, “Just like how it’s the reason you haven’t completely become a flesh-eating monster, yet. Your broken neck pinched the artery that supplies blood to your brain, saving you from the full effects of whatever catalyst is making these things.” Evan was nodding as John spoke. “But still, some of the catalyst must have gotten through to your brain before your body died. It must have been just enough to reanimate the tissue, but not enough to dominate your personality.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I told them. “You have no idea how hard it is to resist the temptation of fresh blood.”

Evan and John looked at each other and nodded. Something had passed in between them and for once, I was on the outside of a secret language and understanding with Evan. John was the first to speak, “we could try, he said.” And, before anyone else could even ask what the hell they were talking about Evan replied, “yes. Let’s!”

“What the hell are you two plotting?” asked Pam skeptically. “I’m not sure I’m gonna like this.”

“Byron,” began John, “what would you say to a little experiment?”

I looked between him and Evan. “What kind of experiment?”

They both looked at me and smiled. For some reason my dead flesh suddenly began to crawl.