Zombies of All Hallows Evil
William Bebb
This novel is dedicated to my ten year old son Billy, who inspired this story last year when he asked the intriguing question “What would happen if zombies attacked on Halloween?”
This novel is a Hands on Productions & Publication novel copyright 2011. All rights reserved. Any distribution of this novel without the expressed written permission of the author is illegal and subject to U.S. and international laws. This novel is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents described are solely the result of the author's overactive imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual real companies, products, events or people; living or dead, is a coincidence. ISBN 978-1-4524-2883-3
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Contents
Preface
CHAPTER_ONE: Ringo Dingo
CHAPTER_TWO: Twilight of the dead
CHAPTER_THREE: Grinning moon
CHAPTER_FOUR: Giant chicken
CHAPTER_FIVE: Madness mayhem and politics
CHAPTER_SIX: Ragnar's return
CHAPTER_SEVEN: Meet the cutest zombie ever
CHAPTER_EIGHT: Last tango
CHAPTER_NINE: Dawn of tricks and treats
CHAPTER_TEN: Do you hear what I hear
Preface
Zombies have a special place in the hearts and minds of those who love to fear them. This story is about the undead and people who do not love them. The characters will find themselves in a world where zombies roam the world in search of food- namely people. For the loyalists who proclaim only reanimated dead people constitute true zombies, I offer fair warning. A zombie, in my works can be either a homicidal maniac bent of mindless killing or the classic undead ghoul. The key distinction for both types of zombies is a lack of mental thought processes or put another way like my mom would say about certain people-“They ain't right in the head.”
That's enough of the preamble. I have never claimed to be a grammarian. I split infinitives with reckless abandon. I dangle participles like strands of noodles when Grandpa Joe comes over to eat spaghetti with the family. Bad or inappropriate comma placement and gross violations of basic rules of writing that caused my English professors great gobs of angst are part of my charm. Deal with it or find another spinner of tales. It's the story that matters to me. Is it understandable. Is it entertaining? Is it worth reading? These are the issues I believe matter.
For those of you familiar with my first novel, Valley of Death, the main characters should be no surprise. For those who haven't read it, yet, all you really need to know is Billy is a ten year old boy who adopted a dog, named Boris, after they survived a zombie outbreak at a remote trailer park in New Mexico over the summer.
Halloween, four months after events portrayed in The Valley of Death.
The streets were nearly empty as thunderstorms loudly marched their way across central New Mexico. The rainwater gurgled down the gutters of the suburban streets as the sun tried to peek through gaps in the gray sky. Nearly identical houses lining the streets were hard to differentiate most of the year, but recently most of their owners had decorated them with plastic black cats, bright orange jack-o-lanterns, plastic tombstones, and bloody body parts among a plethora of other disturbing items on display. It was the last day of October, a time for most kid’s second favorite holiday of the year- Halloween.
A candy wrapper, with a small smudge of chocolate on it, bobbed along a rain swollen gutter until it was swallowed down the gaping maw of a storm drain. The drain was next to an alleyway that ran behind a row of houses. Drifting from the alley disturbing sounds were emanating. They were the sounds of pain and taunting laughter.
Three teenagers, wearing black trench coats, surrounded a little boy who was curled up in the fetal position on the ground. A torn plastic bag was clutched in the boy's hand while a plethora of sugary candy was scattered around his body. The largest boy kicked the cowering child in his butt, while the other two laughed and watched both ways up and down the alley as they scooped up the wet candy and stuffed their pockets.
“Listen good, turd breath.” The biggest boy said, resting his foot on the badly beaten boy's hip. “Don't forget who rules this neighborhood. We own every kid around here. You try skipping out on paying your dues again and we might have to get mean. You understand me, Billy boy?”
I understand you're a pathetic douche bag who can only beat up little kids. Billy thought, as he tried to speak. He wasn't sure, but suspected his right arm might be broken. The boy grunted as the big kid pressed his heavy boot down harder on his hip.
“Boy, you better say something intelligent or your lesson in being a good neighbor is about to go into overtime.” Jessie snarled, and spit on Billy's head.
“I understand!” Billy yelled, as the spittle mixed with the rain and oozed across his face.
“Good boy. You may not be as dumb as I thought.” Jessie said, removing his foot and squatting down. “Now don't forget to tell your mommy who messed you up. Make sure she calls the cops too. I really want you to kid.” He said, then stood up and joining his friends with their bulging pockets of stolen candy.
Billy looked up at Jessie. The bully had a Neanderthal-like sloping forehead and acne covered face that looked like a mass of pustulating pimples.
“You know why I want you to tell on us? Come on, you're a smart kid right?” Jessie asked, with his arms crossed in front of him.
“Because, if I tell you'll beat me up again.” Billy said, trying to keep from crying.
“Damn straight, boy genius. Now don't forget to bring us the candy you get tonight trick or treating. We'll be at our tree house, waiting. You know where it is.” Jessie turned and his friends followed him down the alley as Billy got slowly to his hands and knees.
Spitting out some blood, Billy slowly crawled over to a foul smelling metal trashcan. Grabbing onto the rim, he managed to stand up. He felt his right arm and was relieved to find no broken bones. If Boris had been here those fart knockers would be in a whole lot more pain than I am. I wish I could take him to and from school. Better yet, I wish mom had never moved here. Billy thought, looking at the crushed remains of the Halloween candy he had gotten at the school party that afternoon. He briefly considered trying to salvage some of it but saw that it would be pointless. The candy was ruined. A slight movement and glint of light on the trashcan caught his attention. An average looking roach was climbing down the side but stopped as Billy stared at it. He had a moment of unreasoning desire the kill the bug, before shaking his head and picking up his backpack. In many ways, he felt sort of like the insect- small and insignificant with little real control over his life.
After his grandfather had died, over the summer, his mother Cheryl had started dating and then moved in with Bo Autry. He was a retired deputy and now full time alcoholic, part time pain in the butt to Billy. He hadn't been such a jerk in the beginning. Billy had sort of liked him and his mother had been smitten by his charms. But in the months since the zombies, madness, and death in the valley, he had grown steadily more unstable.
Bo suffered from recurring nightmares and depression which he had been self treating with copious amounts of alcohol.
If he were the old Bo Autry I could tell him about the bullies and he'd understand, but now- Billy thought, shaking his head. But now I just don't know what to do.
His pants were torn and muddy from the beating and he hoped Bo was out drinking so he wouldn't interrogate him about it. Not that he noticed much of anything lately. Limping down the alley he felt like crying till he heard a familiar happy barking coming from up ahead.
Boris could smell the boy as a light breeze blew down the alley. The dog had gotten much chubbier since the days when he'd been a stray in the trailer park where Billy's grandfather had lived. He wasn't fat yet, but regular meals and being locked up in a suburban backyard had definitely added more than a few pounds.
The dog looked through the spaces of the six foot high wooden fence and could see Billy limping toward the back gate. Boris became more alert and sniffed the air for the smells of danger as the boy unlatched the gate and entered the backyard.
It was a typical suburban backyard, very small, rectangular, and boring. After closing the gate, Billy dropped to his knees and hugged Boris. The smell of wet grass mixed with a faint aroma of Boris's 'poop corner', as his mom called it. The dog licked Billy's face and within a few minutes the tears stopped and he was petting his sympathetic furry friend. He even found the strength to toss his backpack, filled with a wide variety of mind numbing homework, on the wooden patio table and sit in one of the ornamental metal chairs next to it.
Boris placed his head on the boy's leg and looked up at him concerned.
“It's okay Boris. I just had a bad day. I really don't even want to go trick or treating anymore.” He said, leaning back in the chair. “I mean, what's the point? The fart knockers will just steal my candy. Heck, they might even beat me up again.” He sighed and closed his eyes as Boris licked his hand and whined nervously.
“Of course if I don't go get candy they'll probably beat me up anyway. I wish grandpa was still alive, he'd know what to do. He wasn't like Bo, he'd listen to me when I was in trouble.”
Boris brought a dirty, well chewed, tennis ball over and dropped it in Billy's lap.
“I'm sorry Boris. I just don't feel like playing ball today. In fact, all I feel like doing is going to my room, doing my homework, and crying some more.”
Boris looked around the backyard trying to think of something to distract the boy from his problems. The boy smelled of fear and sadness. Billy's nose had stopped bleeding but bright red streaks were prominent of his small sad face. Unable to think of anything else to do he curled up at Billy's feet and looked thoughtful.
Staring out the small open window, over the kitchen sink, Bo Autry trembled. His mouth had a foul sour aftertaste of bourbon and his head felt uncomfortably heavy as he looked at the boy and dog. They might even beat me up again. He heard the words echoing in his head and tried to think. The young former deputy stared out the window and noted the smears of blood on the kid's face and his torn pants. For the first time, in over a month, he felt something other than self pity. Bo's hands were clenched tightly in fists at his sides as he turned away from the window and walked stiffly to the staircase and climbed up.
Billy, you may not know it yet, but you are going trick or treating tonight. I just hope whoever beat on you this afternoon tries it again. Oh God, I really hope they try it again. Bo thought, as he went to the master bathroom he shared with Cheryl. He almost yelped when he saw the bleary eyed, chubby, man with the beard and long unruly greasy looking hair staring back at him in the mirror.
Good Lord, what have I done to myself? He shook his head, warily looking at the bum in the mirror. How could Cheryl tolerate me this way? His scruffy beard and mustache felt unpleasantly greasy as he touched it. He turned the hot water faucet on and retrieved his straight razor and shaving cream from the medicine cabinet. The steam rose as he shaved, covering the hidden miniature camera's lens in the air conditioning vent on the ceiling.
While the rain clouds blew apart, a buzzard lazily circled high up in the mid-afternoon sky. Without understanding what it saw, the bird flew in a high lazy pattern over the remote valley it had been born in. Migrating back, for the winter, its sharp eyes recognized very little below. There were a few bulldozers, trucks and men in white bio-hazard suits, but no animals moved in the valley. Which struck the bird as odd since it was teeming with rabbits and rats just last spring. A long, ten foot high, chain link fence encircled the entire valley. A large closed gate crossed the road leading down into the valley. Nearby, a pair of double wide trailers and a tall skinny metal communications tower stood.
The large bird swooped in lower and landed on the tower looking at the buildings, the fence, and the gate. It spotted something interesting and flew down to the base of the fence. A rabbit's decomposing body lay just inches from the softly humming fence. The buzzard looked but saw no one nearby to interrupt his snack. It tore into the corpse with its beak and sharp talons and ate well.
“Yum yum. Hey sergeant, wanna come over and see something gross?” A young man in green military fatigues asked, standing by a window facing the fence.
The sergeant made hushing gestures and continued to listen to the person who had called after the rains had come through. He had a pen in his hand and had been furiously scribbling for the last fifteen minutes on a notepad.
God, this is boring. Private first class Gunther Copeland thought, turning away from the window and looking at the rows of TV monitors along the control and communications console and one wall of the trailer. There were thirty monitors dedicated to the valley and another forty dedicated to the survivors who had escaped. The screens were in vivid color and had great resolution but they were boring to watch nonetheless.
Gunther flopped into his chair and stared across the screens. A squad of men in hazmat suits taking samples in sector four trudged around prodding the muddy ground. There was an enormous field of mud and puddles where dozens of mobile homes used to be in sector two. A little creek that had swollen with runoff from the recent rains in sector seventeen showed the only thing mildly interesting. He shook his head as he stared at that monitor. A large tanker truck filled with bleach and other chemicals was shooting a spray of disinfectants into the air and into the stream. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair watching the monitors.
“Yes sir. I understand. It's being taken care of as we speak.” Sergeant Paulson said, for the tenth time since the call came in nearly half an hour earlier when the rains first started.
“Are you certain you have enough in the truck to accommodate the additional runoff from the rains?” Dr. David Peters, special presidential adviser from the Centers for Disease Control asked.
“Yes sir, as I said earlier, the crew I spoke to said the tanker was replaced just yesterday. And they say in spite of the rain no contaminated elements will leave the valley.”
“I'm having some trouble receiving the video feed, here in Atlanta, how heavy was the storm? Rain in New Mexico! I thought it never rained there. Have squads been checking the fence perimeter for any other possible runoff sites?”
“Yes sir. Seems we caught a break in that only Farro's Stream in sector seventeen is a point of runoff. It rained pretty steady for almost an hour then tapered off.”
“Weather report says the storms should be breaking up out there. Can you confirm?”
“I'm looking out the window now.. The clouds have broken up or moved out. Looks clear to me.”
“Okay. I'm sorry if I've been coming across like an ass, sergeant, but this is the first rain we've had since the incident back in July. I thought we'd have more time to finish sterilizing the valley by now. Just keep a close eye on the monitors and keep me informed of anything unusual.” Dr. Peters said.
“No problem sir, we're keeping an eye on things.”
“Alright, I'll be in my office for the next few hours. Call there, if you need me.”
“Yes s-” Sergeant Paulson started to say as he heard the dial tone of a disconnected call.
“Rude little booger. Just hang up after chewing on my ear for nearly half an hour. And all because of some stupid rain.”
Private first class Gunther Copeland didn't answer. He was leaning back in his chair facing the monitors with his eyes closed, sleeping comfortably.
The buzzard finished its meal and flew over the fence. It circled the valley for several minutes, looking down, unable to understand what had happened to his home. Flying lower it landed in a small clearing away from the men working in other parts of the valley. It hopped over to a trickle of water and drank. It cocked its head and listened to the sound of rushing water and moved over to a small fence about five feet square. In the center of the fenced in area was a recessed space with rainwater flowing in from the higher ground. The bird looked at the metal sign on the fence and squawked. The words on it read Danger, Abandoned Well!
The bird drank from one the small streams flowing under the fence and listened to the water falling into the well. It looked at the valley and decided to find a more inviting winter home. Flying swiftly into the afternoon sky it quickly became a speck on the horizon.
In July, when the valley had been a nearly deserted trailer park, several bodies ended up in the now fenced off well. Government officials removed them, some of whom were reanimated dead men or zombies and drained it as a safety precaution. It was designated as a 'clean site' in the reports that followed the incident. Plans were in place to have it filled with dirt, but it had been put on the back burner while the rest of the valley was sterilized.
Millions of gallons of chemicals had been sprayed on nearly every square inch of the valley in an attempt to kill any remaining sources of the Keck Virus. It was named after Stephen Keck who had unintentionally unleashed a small scale zombie apocalypse that claimed nearly a hundred victims. No plants grew in the decimated valley. The topsoil had been scraped clean and treated in ways officials were sure would destroy any remaining elements of the virus that had caused the residents to go homicidally insane until they died and rose again as zombies. Even Farro's Stream was designated practically clean. But after it was decided overkill was justified, chemical sprayers had been placed in and around the stream to prevent runoff which could conceivably contain the virus. It was a good plan. Unfortunately, the officials overlooked something rather important.
There are aquifers throughout the southwestern United States. Vast underground networks of water that await anyone with the desire and resources to sink a well into them. They then pump the water out and use it for all manner of things. Farmers and ranchers use it for crops and livestock, remote homesteads too far from urban water supplies use it, even major municipalities like Albuquerque New Mexico tap into the aquifers for the municipal water supplies.
In the aftermath of the horrific incident in this remote valley and the subsequent plan to cover the story up, no one in the government had thought to ask a geologist about the aquifers. It hadn't rained and the stream seemed a logical point to stop any possible viral outbreak.
The abandoned well had been pumped dry after the dead and undead had been removed, but no one had thought to flood the shaft with the chemicals they were using everywhere else throughout the valley. As the rain runoff filled the well gravity and pressure forced a tiny amount of viral contaminants into the aquifer system below. The water flowed swiftly through the underground channels, undetected, unsuspected, and unseen, into the deep dark natural cauldron.
The clown called Ringo Dingo juggled and the children screamed in ecstasy as only a pack of five and six year olds could exhibit for such a stupid display. Katie had always been afraid of clowns growing up, but her snotty little brother had talked their mom into getting one for his birthday. The eleven year old girl wasn't going out in the backyard while the clown was there. She watched her mom putting a dozen multicolored cupcakes on a tray and listened to her I-Pod wishing the birthday party was over.
Katie didn't exactly hate her little brother Dabney, but it was as close to hate as a big sister could have without the violent use of a sharpened butcher knife. He was loud, annoying, sneaky, and in a multitude of ways, disgusting. He'd learned to belch on command and took great pride in frequently demonstrating his talent.
“Katie!” Her mother yelled, from across the kitchen.
“What?” She answered, yanking out her ear buds. Looking at her mom, she fought down with great difficulty the temptation of heaving a loud sigh of exasperation.
“I asked you to fix the lemonade ten minutes ago. Is it ready?”
“I forgot. I'll do it. Just a minute.” She said, heading for the sink.
“Never mind, here, take out this tray of cupcakes while I do it.”
“Mom please, I'll do it. You take out the cupcakes. You don't want to miss anymore of Dabney's birthday do you?” Katie asked, walking quickly to the sink and turning away from her mother.
“Okay, but hurry up, make it, and bring it outside. We have a group of hungry little monsters in the backyard.” Her mother said, carrying the tray out the open back door.
Katie pulled out the big plastic pitcher and opened the jar of powdered lemonade mix. She looked at the little kids with their faces all painted up like monsters. Her mother, who worked in the cosmetics department at a store downtown, had done the makeup for each child as they arrived. She gave each kid a choice and after all of them were transformed there were three clowns, two puppies, one kitten and five zombies. The makeup job wasn't too bad, thought Katie, except the zombie kids looked weird with painted on smiles clashing with the fake blood on their faces.
She put the pitcher in the sink and turned on the faucet. The pipes rattled and a trickle of water came out. Cistern must be empty, she thought, flipping the switch to the well's pump. She looked out the window waiting for the water and saw the kids laughing with icing from the cupcakes smeared on their faces. She looked past them to the barn and wanted more than anything, at that moment, to go saddle up Sparky and take a long ride. Sparky was her horse. Her mom may say that he's both hers and her brother's horse but she knew better.
In the distance, she saw the sun beginning to drift down toward the horizon and some of the kid’s parents standing around waiting for the party to be over. Beyond them she saw the long driveway that joined a dirt road which stretched off toward the county road several miles away. As the pipes rattled and a gush of water began to fill the pitcher she wondered if there might be time to go for a ride on Sparky once the party was over.
Billy went to his bedroom after his shower and looked at the costume his mom had gotten him for Halloween. It was supposed to be a magician's outfit. There was a black top hat with a small white rabbit on a spring, so that when you removed it you could pull out the rabbit. The magic wand had a little button that would shoot out a multicolored bouquet of flowers when pressed. Ooh look out Voldermort, here comes Billy also known as he who shall be stupid looking. He thought, putting on the black slacks and white long sleeved shirt. Billy looked at the black sequin studded jacket with that had the words Magic Man written in little multicolored LED lights on the back. Flicking on the batteries inside the jacket, he stared at the glowing words feeling embarrassed to even be in the same room with such a garment. Turning off the lights, he slipped on the jacket. Picking up the only part of his costume that he really liked he wrapped the cape around his neck. It wasn't silk but felt like it. It was very black on the outside and blinding bright red inside.
“Good evening. I vant to suck your blood.” He said, staring menacingly in the mirror. Billy laughed and grabbed his empty pillowcase. Maybe, if I fill this whole thing up, I can make Jessie and his friends ease off. He thought, walking down the staircase.
“Billy, come eat your dinner.” Cheryl said, from the kitchen. The doorbell rang as he walked into the kitchen. He turned to go back to the door, but his mom grabbed the bowl of candy and trotted past him. “You go eat, I'll handle this. It's chicken, you'll like it.”
Billy stared at the grilled chicken breast sitting on the plate with a pile of Brussels sprouts sitting next to it and felt nauseous. “It's chicken, you'll like it.” He whispered in a high pitched mocking voice, picking up the plate and hurrying to the back door. He heard his mom laughing as she gave out candy and quickly opened the door.
Boris looked up hopefully and wagged his tail rapidly.
“Here boy, eat this crap.” Billy whispered, sliding his dinner into the dog's bowl. Boris was happy to oblige and was chomping happily as Billy quickly put the plate in the dishwasher. He grabbed his pillowcase and was heading for the front door when he heard Bo's voice come from the darkened dining room through the small archway.
“I told her you wouldn't like that stuff for dinner.”
Billy stopped suddenly and looked a little scared.
“It's okay Billy. I'll tell her I saw you eat it. Come on in here for a second, and flip on the light.” The doorbell rang again as Billy went into the dining room, after turning on the light. Looking at Bo he stopped in amazement. He had shaved and was dressed in clean clothes. He didn't smell of booze either. His eyes were still bloodshot but overall he looked better than he had in weeks.
“I'm trying to cut down. Your mom was happily surprised to see me shaved and cleaned up too. Now, if I can get past this hangover, I'll be happy.” He said, smiling. There was a plate with half a chicken breast and a small pile of Brussels sprouts on the table in front of him.
“Well um, you do look a lot better Mr. Autry.” Billy said, unsure what to say.
“I know you wanna get to trick or treating, but I want you to take this.” He said, sliding a cell phone across the table. “If you get lost or anything give me a call. Unless of course, you want me to go with you.” Bo had thought hard about how to approach Billy about the bullies and decided to let him choose.
Billy picked up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket. He wasn't sure what to say. Part of him wanted Bo to come with him, but a bigger part felt ashamed to ask. I'm not a wimp. I 'm not a baby. But it'd sure be nice to have him along. He thought.
“Thanks for the offer Mr. Autry, but I think I can handle things.” Billy said, while a small part of his brain screamed, Yes! Come with me! Protect me from those fart knockers! I'm just a kid!
Bo saw the look of indecision in his eyes and felt angrier with the bastards who beat up Billy now, than he had earlier. At the same time he admired the determination he saw in his face.
He had considered the possibility Billy would rather go alone and had two backup plans. One was Cheryl's cell phone he had him take. It had a function that would allow him to track where he was within twenty five feet. His other backup was one he knew Billy would agree to.
“Did you finish your dinner?” Cheryl asked, finally done giving out candy to the pack of early trick or treaters.
Billy looked up guiltily and Bo spoke up.
“He ate all the chicken, but I begged him to let me have some of his Brussels sprouts. You know how much I love them.”
Billy smiled up at his mom and dramatically patted his belly. “It was delicious. Better than McDonald's chicken nuggets and healthier too.”
Easy kid, she's gonna smell something amiss. Bo thought.
Cheryl had a suspicious look in her eye and was about to speak when the doorbell rang again.
“Well I'm glad you liked it. Be home by nine o'clock, be safe and have fun.” She said, walking back to the front door.
“Maybe you should take Boris out with you. He could use a walk after eating your dinner.” Bo whispered.
“Great idea Bo.” Billy said, with a grin.
“And be home by nine, like your mom said.”
“I will.” Billy said, running for the backdoor with his pillowcase clutched in his hand.
After he left, Bo opened his cell phone, pressed a few buttons, and a map with a flashing blue dot appeared on the screen. He stabbed a Brussels sprout with his fork and bit it down. Nasty damn things. He thought. Feels like I have a green testicle in my mouth. Choking it down, he smiled, as Cheryl came back in carrying the bowl of candy.
“What made you get so cleaned up? You look just like the sexy man I met a few months ago?” She asked, playfully.
Bo had a headache. It had been a dull throbbing pain all afternoon until she asked him what was going on. It suddenly felt like a red hot spike was thrust into his brain. God, I need a drink. He thought, but managed a feeble smile.
“Just felt it was time to get my shit together, that's all.” He stood up and slid the cell phone into his dark leather jacket. “But I've really got a bad headache right now, so I might go outside for a walk and try to clear my head.”
“I have some pain pills, if you want something.” She said, tenderly holding his hand and looking up at him concerned. The doorbell rang but she didn't move.
“I'll be fine. You better give out some candy before we start getting tricked.” He held her for a few moments and kissed her lips gently. “I'll be back, after awhile.”
“Okay. Love you Bo.” She said, carrying the candy bowl toward the front door.
“Yeah, uh, I love you too.” He mumbled, going through the door into the garage.
Billy knew his dog would behave himself, but attached the leash to his collar just in case he got spooked by all the kids dressed up like monsters. Boris had finished off any evidence of the grilled chicken and seemed happy to be going for a walk. Usually during the week, between school and the time required to master the mystically confusing and ultimately useless skill of algebra among his other homework, he never got to go for a walk.
“You better behave yourself out there tonight, fuzzy butt. No biting anyone, unless it's the fart knocker Jessie and his shit head friends. If they show up, feel free to go demon dog on them.” Billy said, as he led Boris through the back gate and latched it shut behind them.
Together, they ran down the alley in the direction opposite of where he'd been beaten earlier. Wishing he'd thought to make up some sort of costume for Boris, they ran to the first decorated house and followed kids dressed up for a night of fun. The sun was still above the horizon as he got his first treat of the evening. It wasn't one of those tiny 'fun size' candy bars either. It was full size and he flashed his jacket's goofy lights that spelled out 'Magic Man' for the lady and waved his wand dramatically, producing a bouquet of flowers to show his appreciation.
She laughed and handed him a second candy bar before waving another group of kids forward.
Running with Boris, he thought This might be the best Halloween ever, even if I am dressed up like a doofus.
“Well, that was a complete waste of time. I can't believe I let you talk me into giving up an afternoon of golfing to watch a bunch hyperactive twits stuff themselves with enough sugary crap to send them all into diabetic comas.” The middle-aged man grumped, as he sped down the driveway.
“Don't be that way, Lou. It was just a birthday party and Sheila loved it.” His wife said, from the passenger seat of the Mercedes. She turned around and saw her daughter sleeping peacefully in the car seat behind her husband before continuing. “You're just not happy watching kids have a good time eating candy or anything else, because you know sooner or later they'll be sitting in your chair to have their cavities filled.”
Grunting softly, Dr. Louis Bunn, one of Albuquerque New Mexico's most respected dentists stuck his tongue out at his wife while waiting for the gate at the end of the driveway to automatically swing open. At the first sign the birthday party was ending he had offered a quick insincere sounding thanks to the hostess before snatching his five year old daughter up and almost sprinting to the car. His afternoon had been wasted but he planned on making up for it tonight at his country club's Halloween Spooktacular Costume Party. If I can get rid of this damn headache, that is. He thought, passing an old pickup truck puttering along the dirt road trailing a billowing cloud of blue and white exhaust.
He blamed the children and the incessant shouting and screeching they made at the party for his throbbing head. Belching, he reached for the antacids in the console. His stomach had felt something like a swirling storm building for the past half hour. Knowing it wasn't anything he ate, because he hadn't partaken of anything except a few glasses of lemonade, he hoped the stomach and headache weren't the onset of some kind of flu bug. Of course with all those damn kids, with their snotty noses and germ coated hands, it was probable one of them gave me something. Luckily, its Saturday so maybe if I get some rest tomorrow I'll be okay to go to work on Monday.
His wife turned on the radio and began switching stations, trying to find something to listen to. Not really in the mood for music, he almost said something but decided he'd bitched enough about wasting an entire afternoon and kept quiet. It was a beautiful afternoon and the clouds from earlier had all vanished leaving the sky a flawless dark blue that normally would make him smile, but not today. With only another ten miles to home, Bobby 'Boris' Pickett's Halloween classic Monster Mash began to play, but by then his headache had grown to monstrous proportions itself. He gritted his teeth as his wife, never accused of being able to carry a tune, sang along smiling and made light playful scratches on the shoulder of his jacket with her fingernails.
Without slowing down, Lou removed his right hand from the steering wheel and punched his wife in the head slamming it against the passenger side window.
She woke up, with a headache and a bruise on the side of her head, when he got out and slammed his door shut after reaching their house. It had happened so fast, his wife never knew what happened. If it weren't for the swollen spot on her head she would have thought she'd simply fallen asleep. She watched Lou quickly walk up the sidewalk and kick her Siamese cat who was sunning herself on the sidewalk. It flew several feet before landing in the yard and running into some shrubs.
She gently rubbed the swollen spot and looked back at her still snoozing daughter. Lou wouldn't have hit me. No way. I must have just fallen asleep and whacked my head on the window or something. She thought, getting out of the car and going around to get her daughter out. As she unstrapped the little girl's seat belt, she opened her eyes and growled at her trying to bite her arm. She pulled back and almost screamed before the girl smiled and looked up at her.
“What's the matter mommy? That's what zombies are supposed to do?”
Katie finished picking up the last of the trash from the birthday party and carried the nearly full jumbo size plastic bag to the cans beside the stable. Dabney was playing with his favorite new toy. And even nearly a hundred yards away, she could hear him laughing as he made the remote controlled robot roll around on its treads and fire its laser cannons.
The horse nickered at her when it stuck its head out through one of the stable's open windows. She quickly put the trash in the can and went to the horse making soft clicking noises with her tongue.
“Hiya Sparky. How's my big fella? All those kids running around must have been as annoying to you as they were for me.” She took a few sugar cubes out of her leather jacket and held them up in her open palm. Sparky made them disappear with a flick of his tongue and nuzzled the girl's long hair with his nose. His hooves moved nervously as Dabney squealed and continued to play, in the distance. She patted Sparky's neck and murmured promises that everything would be okay, until the horse settled down. The sun was already slowly dipping into the horizon. Had the party ended sooner she could have taken a quick ride, but it would be dark before she'd him saddled. Or would it? She thought, a second before opening the stable door and grabbing her saddle.
After getting the bridle and bit in place, she was buckling on the saddle when a faint scream came from the direction of the house. Sparky heard it too and the horse reared back snorting nervously. Katie patted him, on his light brown neck, looking at the house. Dabney was looking and pointing at the sliding glass door giggling. She shrugged and led the horse out of the stable.
Climbing up in the saddle, she heard an odd noise coming from somewhere near her brother. Curiosity being one of her greatest traits, she clicked her tongue and rode toward her irritating little brother. Dabney smiled at her and babbling excitedly pointed at the sliding glass door.
“Momma's being scary and funny.” The boy said, giggling.
Riding closer, Katie saw their mother on the other side of the glass scratching at it. She was naked except for her panties. Her eyes were open wide and the usually white parts were a solid pink almost red color. Seeing Katie and the horse, her mother yelled and threw herself against the glass.
“Mom, what are you doing? Are you okay?” Katie asked in confusion, climbing off the horse.
“Momma's being silly.” Dabney astutely observed.
Halfway across the patio, she stopped walking toward the door. Her mother's mouth was foaming and her hands were painted scarlet in what looked like blood. It was hard to see past her because no one had turned on the lights inside earlier and the living room was dark. Katie looked quickly around the patio for a phone but then remembered her mom had taken the cordless one inside after the party, and her cell phone was in her room, somewhere. She knew something was wrong, horribly wrong, and wanted to call for an ambulance. There's a phone in the garage! The thought flashed into her mind.
Her mother had moved away from the bloody sliding glass door and from inside there came the sounds of more yelling. Dabney started walking to the door shouting “Come back, momma!” Katie moved swiftly forward and grabbed his hand only inches from the glass.
“No Dabney, mom's sick. You come with me, we're gonna call an ambu-” Katie started to say before Ringo Dingo, the clown hired for the party, slammed himself headfirst into the sliding glass door. The glass shattered into an intricate pattern of cracks emanating from the hole Ringo's head was now sticking through. Katie screamed and still clutching Dabney's hand, ran back across the patio as Sparky galloped across the backyard.
Ringo's red rubber nose was still in place but his white face makeup was broken up by small streams of blood pouring down from the ripped open skin of his forehead. The clown screamed and began pushing himself through the remains of the sliding glass door.
Katie picked her up brother and ran toward the garage, while Dabney still clutching his remote control shouted over her shoulder “Come on Ringo!” and laughed like he was the funniest clown he'd ever seen in his short life.
CHAPTER TWO: Twilight of the dead
Maria was mad. If Josey didn't stop scaring away all the children coming for treats she was going to put a serious crimp in his love life. He'd placed two digital camera on the porch, recording video and prepared a scary scene using their new house's front porch, several bales of hay, a carved pumpkin lit from inside by a strobe light that he could control from his spot, and a sort of lame looking, in her opinion, ghost hanging from the ceiling. There was also another strobe light placed above and behind where the visitors would be standing. Josey was leaning against the house, sitting motionless on a metal bench dressed like a scarecrow, complete with a big straw hat and bits of hay poking out of the bottom of his pants and ends of his long sleeved shirt. The first few early trick or treaters didn't even get their candy, because he'd triggered the fast paced strobe light inside the pumpkin and jumped up before she could even answer the door.
The first two kids dropped their plastic pumpkins and ran off screaming. She'd chased after them, in her sexy witches costume, trying to return their stuff, but that only made them run harder.
Josey had promised not to jump the gun and give her a chance to give out some candy. But both other times they'd had someone come to the door, since then, he couldn't wait to spring his surprise on them. Now, she waited in the hallway torn between boredom and anger. And just to complicate matters she had to pee. There was a bathroom just down the hall and she decided to make a run for it while there were no trick or treaters in sight.
Josey was feeling good. The hay straw was itchy and it was hard to remain motionless when all he wanted to do was scratch, but for the sake of Halloween he persevered. He wondered if Billy would come by sometime and hoped he would. Then remembering he lived almost three miles away he doubted his young friend would make it all the way over here.
He considered how funny life was as he patiently waited for his next victims to come by. Last year I was a drainer of septic tanks driving a smelly truck all day long, five days a week, making just over minimum wage. I didn't have a girlfriend or a decent place to live. Now, thanks to a generous payoff from Beaumont Biochemical Industries and the government just for keeping quiet about what happened last summer everything's changed. I got a girlfriend who loves me, a new house paid off free and clear, and all thanks to, of all things, zombies.
Four months earlier, Josey, Maria and a handful of others survived an outbreak of a virus that would turn the living into homicidal maniacs. And even if you killed them, the infected people had the unpleasant tendency to come back, sometimes very quickly, as undead zombies.
A lot of good people died out there in that damn valley of death but if it hadn't happened I'd still be driving a truck full of shit. Yep, life sure is funny sometimes. Josey thought, hearing some kids laughing as they came up the sidewalk.
In the shower, nearly scalding hot water poured down over his head as Dr. Louis Bunn shuddered under it. Not wanting to get sick, he had taken some antibiotics and pain killers as soon they got home from the birthday party. His headache felt slightly better but he noted the tremors that shook his body with some concern. The shower seemed to help as he tried to remember what had happened earlier. His memories of driving home were muddled and he attributed that to the fierce headache he was suffering from.
As the water turned cooler, he shut off the faucets and climbed out of the shower stall, happy to note the tremors had disappeared. I told her I hate kid’s birthday parties, with all the screaming, cake, ice cream, goofy games and let's not forget all the brats. So does she let me skip it? No way, not for all the cavity riddled teeth in the southwest. And now, I've caught some stupid cold or flu thing. Well, I don't care if I'm walking death, I'm not missing the party at the country club. Jefferson's going to be there, and who knows, maybe tonight he'll finally ask me to join his practice. He thought, rubbing his naked chubby body dry with a fluffy towel.
Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he looked at his eyes and opened the medicine cabinet reaching for the eye drops. After applying the recommended dosage his eyes looked less red but were still disturbing looking. The odd thing was they didn't feel strange, they were simply red throughout the white area. While shaving, he chuckled thinking how his eyes color would probably assure him a good shot during the costume contest.
He pulled the prosthetic teeth, he'd spent a month working on, out of the plastic container he brought from the office and went about preparing the temporary bonding glue he'd made up for the occasion. As he inserted the teeth, his headache started to grow in intensity. Leaning his forehead against the cool mirror helped and a few moments later the pain had subsided enough for him to inspect the reflection of the vampire staring back.
Grinning, he went to the bedroom and started getting dressed as Count Dracula, albeit a chubby, slightly balding, middle aged version of the infamous blood sucker.
Downstairs his wife, already dressed in her cheerleader costume, was also looking in a mirror. Gently feeling the swollen bump on the side of her head, she tried again to recall what had happened. She was pretty sure it must have happened on the drive back from the birthday party but a nagging doubt kept whispering at the edges of her thoughts. He did it. Lou must have done it. He's been acting weird all afternoon. Face facts, he must have hit you.
The doorbell silenced the doubts as she grabbed the candy bowl and went to open the front door.
“Wow, nice outfit, Carol. What are you supposed to be a cheerleader who got tackled by the football team?” A teenage girl, wearing an outfit that looked extremely R rated to Carol, said laughing.
“Thanks Janette, I was hoping the bump wasn't that noticeable.” She said, turning to let the babysitter in.
“Oh, that's not makeup? Wow. I mean, doesn't it hurt or anything?” The girl asked, going over to where Sheila was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons while chewing absently on her doll. Janette pulled out her cell phone and took the little girl's picture, wearing makeup that made her look like a zombie, as she continued to gnaw on the smiling doll's foot. Gotta remember to upload this to the web. There's nothing cuter than a toddler zombie. She thought, as Mrs. Bunn handed her an extra set of keys to the house.
“Must have bumped it earlier, somehow. You still going to take Sheila to the church Halloween party?”
“The politically correct term is Fall Festival, but yes we'll go hang out and party for awhile. Unless the priest tosses holy water at us because of our costumes. You're pretty cool Mrs. Bunn. Most parents wouldn't let their five year olds dress as zombies.” Janette said, while helping Sheila get her socks and shoes on.
“I got her a kitten costume, but the little monster won't wear it will you Sheila?”
The little girl turned and scowled at her mom, making clawing gestures with her fingers, grunting. “Must have candy brains.”
“Good evening. My beautiful creatures of the night.” Louis Bunn said, coming down the stairs swinging the cape dramatically over his shoulder.
He had spent a considerable amount of money having his costume specially designed and tailored over the last couple of months. It wasn't precisely like the outfit used in any of the Dracula movies, partly because his large stomach required a more generous use of material but also because he'd insisted on having the white shirt be made out of a special glow in the dark material. It was the kind that if you exposed it to bright light for a few minutes it would be luminescent in the dark. He went to the light switch and asked that the TV be turned off. When they were all watching he flipped off the lights.
There were appreciative oohs and ahs from his audience as he flung back his cape and bared his fangs.
“Daddy, your teeth look cool.” Sheila said, seeing them glowing even brighter in the darkness than his shirt.
His wife squealed in mock horror as Janette said “Dr. Bunn, you are a truly terrifying blood sucking monster.” while holding onto Sheila's hand in the darkness. “How did you get your eyes to do that?”
Lou caught most of the appreciative comments but missed the question about his eyes entirely. Flipping the lights back on, he looked at his watch and then his wife. “Honey, we better get going or we're going to be late.”
Sheila broke free and ran to him as he stood by the front door. “Bite me daddy. Drink my blood.”
In spite of his fierce headache, he smiled and lifted his little girl up and playfully nibbled at her neck, careful not to accidentally bite her. Because, in addition to glowing in the dark the fangs were wickedly sharp. He had already accidentally bitten his tongue and gums several times and knew that for a fact.
After hugging Sheila goodbye, he led his wife outside and spit a gob of bloody spittle into the bushes.
“It's a great outfit Lou. Aren't you going to drive?” Carol asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat.
“Nope. I still got a headache from that...thing we went to earlier.”
“Okay count. You really do look scary though, especially your eyes.” She said starting the car and backing out of the driveway.
Josey felt bad about frightening the first kids so badly and decided to concentrate on just scaring older ones as he sat patiently on the bench. Having his hat pulled down low kept the kids from seeing his face but at the same time made it hard to tell how old they were. He heard some little girls giggling as they walked up the sidewalk and remained motionless as they rang the doorbell. A second later the sound of the door opening made him tilt his head enough to see Maria come out holding a giant orange plastic bowl of candy.
“Oh my goodness, what do we have here?” Maria asked, looking down at the group of young children.
As they shouted “Trick or treat!”, Josey felt no temptation to scare the pack of little girls dressed as butterflies. There's no sport in scaring them. I'd probably terrify them just wearing my normal clothes anyway. He thought with a grin.
After they said their thank yous and were walking away, Maria came over sat on his lap, lifted his hat off and gave him a very nice kiss. “Thank you for not being a monster to those girls.”
“It wasn't easy. You know butterflies freak me out. By the way, you taste like chocolate. Better not eat too much of that stuff or you'll get even chubbier.” He teased, wrapping his arms around her, giving a bear hug while sniffing her hair. It smelled of strawberries.
“I'm not chubby. You're the one who's getting flabby.” She said, gently poking his belly. “You need to start jogging or something.”
They kissed again as Maria wondered if now would be a good time to tell him that he was soon going to have a very much chubbier girlfriend, at least for the next six or seven months. Being raised to believe their son or daughter needed parents who not only loved them but were also married she had tried before to mention the idea of marriage. She knew he loved her but every time she brought up the idea Josey got nervous or scared and quickly changed the subject. And since the doctor confirmed her at home early pregnancy test results, she'd been worried about how the man she loved dearly would react to the news. It's not like he won't notice my belly swelling up in the next few months, anyway. She thought.
“Josey, there's something I need to tell you.” She said, when the kiss ended.
“Shush. You hear that? Someone's coming, quick go inside.” Josey said with the same boyish grin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
“Okay, but we need to talk later.” She said, before quickly slipping inside.
“I've seen the hot little slut who lives here and she's extra fine in all the right spots.” Jessie said , leading his two friends up the sidewalk. “If her giant goofy looking husband's not home maybe she'll give us an extra sweet treat.”
Josey overheard the boy, and tensed up ready to pounce when they came closer.
“Think she's really a slut?” Another boy asked, hopefully.
“Well, I know she's not married and living with some dumb asshole. Oh yeah, she'll probably want all three of us to take a ride. Who knows, maybe all of us at one time.” Jessie said, leading the others up on to the porch.
As he heard the kid ring the doorbell, Josey flipped the strobe lights on and stood up screaming. Standing well over six feet tall with his large muscular body, he towered over the three teenage boys. Their eyes expanded to the size of pumpkins as they screamed in undeniably authentic terror just as Josey had hoped. The two shorter ones took off running, with their overcoats flapping in the air behind them but the third apparently got confused and turned the wrong way before running.
Jessie ran face first into the brick wall. He howled in pain before staggering back around toward the yard holding his bloody nose in his hand swearing.“Fuckingdamnedmothersucking!”
Maria had overheard some of the boy's unflattering statements about her, and watched with a big grin as Josey lifted the struggling boy up over his head and threw him several feet into the other boys who had stopped. They fell in a confused tangle of arms, legs, and overcoats in the yard while Josey began walking toward them.
“Go! Run, you fuck heads!” Jessie called back over his shoulder as he jumped up and sprinted away.
Seconds later, his friends were up and running too.
Josey took pity on them after chasing them for a block and a half. Partly because it was hard to run while laughing as hard as he was, and also the boys had outdistanced him by an additional block after realizing they were being chased.
A minute later, walking up the sidewalk, still chuckling and feeling tired, Josey smiled at Maria standing on the porch holding out an open bottle of beer to him.
“You're my hero, Josey.”
Still breathing hard, he sat on the bench and downed half the bottle within seconds, while she rubbed his shoulders.
“I wish they'd come back sometime. They're great motivation for me to get some exercise. You know? Jogging, like you suggested a while ago.”
She sat beside him on the bench, leaning her head on his shoulder. In silence, they looked up at the large red harvest moon rising up in the slowly darkening sky before kissing again. They stayed that way until the sounds of more children coming made them get back in their positions.
The garage doors were down, and Katie knew they were the automatic electric kind so didn't even try to lift them. Instead, she ran past them to the regular pedestrian door and twisted the knob hoping it wasn't locked but it was. As Dabney yanked on her hair, shouting “Let me down!”, she ran and checked to see if her mom's car was unlocked.
While Ringo Dingo the clown screamed from somewhere in the backyard, she found her mom had indeed locked the car.
“Dabney, you gotta be quiet. Mom and the clown are sick. We have to be quiet. Understand?” She whispered, setting her brother down on the driveway.