Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin David Anderson;Sam Stall

Author:Kevin David Anderson;Sam Stall
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science fiction fans, Congresses and conventions, Fiction, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Zombies, Humorous fiction, Black humor, General, Science Fiction And Fantasy
ISBN: 9781594744631
Publisher: Quirk Books
Published: 2010-09-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Amok Time

Jim quietly descended the stairs until he stood halfway down the last flight before the seventh-floor landing. He knelt and peered over the rail. What he saw turned his stomach.

The pack of decrepit figures below him weren’t waiting to become zombies as T’Poc had suggested; their transformation was already complete. Jim counted six, all crowded in a half-circle, dressed in colorful alien costumes and hunched over an unmoving body dressed in a blue uniform from the original series.

The three zombies in front, women in shiny dresses and thigh-high silver boots, crouched low over the body’s head.What are they doing? Jim thought, then immediately wished he could un-ask the question as all three women rose unsteadily, all struggling to wrest possession of the corpse’s naked, bloody brain. Jim didn’t know whether the wave of horror coursing through his stomach came from the unspeakable sight itself—or from his sickening realization that its perpetrators were dressed as the alien organ thieves from the episode “Spock’s Brain” and that their zombified remnants had kicked the role-play up a notch.

He knew he should just Taser them. Stand there on the steps, just out of reach, and zap them like a firing squad. It was a rational, low-risk plan.

But as Jim watched two of the undead horrors claw through the ersatz Vulcan’s shirt and abdomen and begin quarreling over a length of large intestine, he felt rationality take a backseat to rage. Tasering was too easy for these monsters. They needed to suffer.

One of the creatures, dressed as some sort of reptilian alien soldier, turned its back to him. Slung across its back was what looked like a stainless-steel, art-deco-style ax with a long blade and a pointed tip. Unlike the smooth-edged blades that Martock was selling on the convention floor, this one appeared to be razor-sharp and in complete violation of GulfCon rules and regulations.

Another plan, one far less rational, jelled in his mind. Jim knew he could do a lot of damage very quickly with that weapon. Then he wouldn’t have to waste a bunch of Taser darts. This seemed like a perfectly reasonable strategy—or as reasonable as he could manage with the sound of his every heartbeat echoing through his ears.

And there was no one around—not Rayna, not Leia—to tell him any different.

He stood, walked quickly and quietly down the last steps, crossed the floor to the scene of the slaughter, and then ripped the weapon off the soldier zombie’s back. The creature turned, its third eye fixed on the last thing it would ever see: Jim slamming the blade down onto the center of its host’s skull, splitting it like a melon.

One down.

The other zombies, finally alerted to his presence, moaned and tottered around to face him. Jim didn’t give them time to get their bearings. He rocked the ax free of its former owner and then used it to sweep a fat Ferengi’s feet out from under him. The blade’s impact severed the zombie’s right leg just below the knee.

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