Teenage Wasteland (I Zombie) by Wallen Jack

Author:Wallen, Jack [Wallen, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Autumnal Press
Published: 2015-12-20T18:30:00+00:00

seven | mr. creepy pants

We meandered through the town, darting through streets and down alleys, until we managed to locate the undead rabble-rousers.

“Son of a bitch,” Fay hissed. “How are we supposed to take out six of them?”

“If my math is correct, we’re even Steven,” I responded. “I’m okay with those odds.”

“What about those of us without weapons?” Fay added.

Frenzy reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew a knife. He handed the blade to Fay and said, “Be okay now, chikky?”

Fay swatted Frenzy’s offered weapon away. “Could you be any more crass?”

Frenzy leaned into Fay’s space and hissed, “Could you be any more of a…”

“Guys,” I spat. “I swear to God I’ll turn this car around.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Frenzy faked a child’s voice…fully intent on mocking what little authority I had.

I did a cursory glance around the area, hoping for inspiration to strike. We needed the means to take the bastards out efficiently. The jury was still out on whether Kubrick and Fay could fight; so the the truth was, the odds were not in our favor.

The area was a deconstructionist’s dream come true. Buildings had fallen into disrepair; cars sat abandoned, stripped, and worthless; weeds broke through the cracks in the sidewalk and streets. In other words, business as usual for a world redrawn with sixty-four shades of apocalypse.

Poking from a box was a measure of wire…thin enough to be dangerous. I knelt down and pulled the lid back to see a coil of the stuff, ready for some form of action.

The idea hit me like a red rubber dodge ball to the crotch.

I looked up at Mikko and whispered, “It’s time for a little dead rover, dead rover.”

A puckish smile lit up her face. “One of my favorite games,” Mikko replied in kind, and dropped a kiss on my cheek.

I gestured for all to gather ‘round. Everyone squatted and drew in close. I whispered the “rules” of the game and then set out to prepare the playing field.

Mikko grabbed the spool of wire and handed me the end. I pulled it toward a light post and wrapped it tight, five feet from the ground. Once the end was secure, I raced to Mikko, grabbed the spool, and made my way to a similar pole across the street, wrapped it half-way around, pulled the wire tight, and wound it secure. I turned and gave the line a flick to test the tension. The metal wire sang out with a high enough pitch to prove it was ready to play rough.

I pulled everyone to the side of the line opposite the Moaners. “On the count of three, follow my lead,” I whispered, and then turned my attention back to the Moaners.

The gang of six continued swaying in the middle of the intersection. I took in a deep breath and called out, “Undead rover, undead rover, send…all you bastards over.”

Mikko snickered and joined in on the chant.

“Undead rover, undead rover, send all you bastards over.”

The Moaners sniffed the air and canted their heads toward our joyful noise.

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