Dead Clown Barbecue by Strand Jeff

Author:Strand, Jeff [Strand, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-07-27T23:00:00+00:00

DEAD IN THE WATER

Because I'm a Tampa guy, I wasn't all that concerned about the zombie infestation of St. Pete. I mean, sure, I had rations, weapons, and a full tank of gas like everybody else, and I kept tabs on the situation whenever I went online, so it's not like I ignored it. But there's about ten miles of bridge between the two cities, and our side of the Howard Frankland Bridge was protected by soldiers with machine guns, so there was no way in hell those rotting corpses could make it over here.

Even now, when I'm forced to acknowledge the irony, that attitude seems reasonable. I don't care how many people are on the news going "We told you so! We told you so!" It was a ten-mile bridge over a freaking bay that was protected by soldiers with machine guns. Zombies move, like, a mile an hour. How'd they overwhelm us? It's crazy.

I heard about it because the neighbor kid — Kyle, who was an obnoxious little brat but really didn't deserve to have so many fingers bitten off two days later — ran up and down the street screaming that the zombies were through the barricade. I turned on the television and, yep, they were through. A couple of weeks ago I'd vowed "No zombies are gonna kick me out of my home!" but I quickly retracted that vow and raced out to my car.

The tires had been slashed. Dammit! Sure, I'd slashed a few tires in my life, but I'd never be so tactless as to do it during the zombie apocalypse!

I knew who'd sabotaged my escape. It was my jerk of a neighbor Greg, with whom I'd been engaged in an (admittedly petty) feud over . . . actually, I don't even want to tell you because it makes Greg and I both look bad. Let's just say that I understood why he did it, but that didn't make me any less terrified about my chances of survival.

A spare tire would've been nice. I'd had one, a few months ago. Should've replaced it.

Okay, this was bad, but it didn't mean that my destiny was to be devoured. My neighbor Alex across the street had just come out of his house, carrying a large blue duffel bag. His six-year-old daughter was right behind him. I hurried over there to greet them.

"Hey, Alex," I said. "How's it going?"

"You heard the news, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Crazy stuff, huh? Thought we were safer than that. I hope the people in Clearwater don't have the same problem."

Alex didn't say anything. He opened the trunk of his car and crammed the duffel bag in there.

"You did make a wise car buying decision," I said, gently patting the roof of the vehicle. "Very roomy. Nobody can ever say that you don't know how to shop for cars."

"I'm not taking you with me," said Alex, shutting the trunk.

"Why not?"

"Because you yelled at my daughter for writing in chalk on the sidewalk."

"That's not true! I didn't yell at her.

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