Trailer Park Zombies Read online

I opened the door wider and looked behind me. Fannie Mae stood only a step or two behind me and Barrett stood on the other side of the room. He had the shotgun cradled in his arms and had it pointed in the general direction of the front door. Thankfully it was pointed mostly at the floor. Thompson shone the flashlight on the both of them and then sighed.

  “Just the three of you, Duke?”

  “Yes, sir.” I briefly debated on what to tell him and then settled with, “I don’t know where my parents are. Mom wasn’t here when we got in last night and I haven’t seen Dad since Thursday.”

  That would probably come back and burn me later but it was the best I could come up with on short notice.

  He nodded at me and then looked pointedly at the shotgun that Barrett was holding. “I take it you saw what happened here earlier?”

  “Yes, sir. And the,” I paused, “zombies have been scratching at the back of the trailer. We haven’t heard them for a while, though.”

  He grimaced. “Zombies, huh? Yeah, I guess that’s what we have to call them.” He shone the flashlight around the outside of the trailer. “We’re rounding up everyone we can and heading over to the House. It’s the only place that can fit all of us.”

  Let me stop for a minute and explain about the House. Horace House was the only piece of real estate in the Acres that actually had a foundation. I suppose in some places it would be called a community center or a meeting house or some such. We used it here for any kind of community meetings that required voting or celebrations or things like that. In the summer there was a wedding or reception there almost every weekend. As the only place of stone in this place of tin it held some kind of hold over the rest of us. Not to mention that, like Thompson said, it was large enough to fit most of the park.

  He nodded at Fannie Mae and then looked at Barrett again. “Who’s that, Duke?”

  I bristled at his tone but said evenly, “That’s my friend, Barrett Inman. He lives in town.”

  He grunted and I don’t know what he would have said, but Herbert – Mr. Jennings – behind him whispered, “Who gives a shit, Thompson? We need to stay on the move.”

  I don’t know what we did to set him off, but Thompson was giving all of us the stink eye. He finally just nodded and said, “Come on, kids. Let’s go.”

  I shut the trailer door firmly behind us as the three of us followed the two men. They were looking around warily as they began to lead us through the Acres. Fannie Mae and Barrett stayed close behind me. They were practically tripping on my heels. It felt like there were a million eyes on us.

  Every ten feet or so Thompson would have us all stop and shine the flashlight in a circle around us. The sun had gone down enough that there were shadows everywhere. At the second stop he shone the light on the three of us and said, “Maybe you should give me that shotgun, boy.”

  Barrett looked at me and shook his head. I spoke for him. “That’s ours, Mr. Thompson. I’m not giving it up.”

  He eyed me and said, “You’ll give it up if I say you’ll give it up, Johnson.”

  I grinned at him and reached behind me to take the shotgun from Barrett. Fannie Mae shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, gripping the straps of the bag carrying the shotgun shells tightly. I pointed the shotgun at the ground between our feet. “This is ours, Mr. Thompson.”

  He just grunted at me. “We’ll talk about that later, Johnson.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, sir. I won’t give up our protection.”

  Fannie Mae broke in then, trying to break the tension. “Mr. Thompson? What happened after Donny and the others were killed? That was the last thing we saw.”

  He didn’t answer her for a few seconds, eyeballing me. I didn’t take my eyes off him as I stood there in an offensive stance. After everything we’d gone through to get that gun I’d be damned before I let anyone take it from me.

  He finally looked away from me dismissively. I could tell this wasn’t over yet. “The zombies attacked a handful of other people who were outside. I don’t know how many. About 20 of us barricaded ourselves in the House and then when things died down we decided to go see if there were any other survivors that we could bring back. Plus we wanted to go get us some weapons.” He lifted his shirt, showing us the gun he had in the waistband of his pants.

  Mr. Jennings waved the shotgun he held in his hand at me, to show me his gun, too. At least they weren’t complete morons.

  “Did you find any other survivors?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. We split up into pairs and went knocking on doors. Last time I took a group back there were about 50 or 60 people in the House. Your trailer was the last one on our watch, so we don’t need to check anymore. We can just go back to safety now.”

  Barrett asked, “Are the police coming? Has anyone called them?”

  Thompson shook his head. “No one can get reception on their cell phones. You know that service out here is spotty, anyway. And none of the regular phones have worked since the power went out.”

  “Has anyone tried to go for help?” I asked.

  Thompson barked a bitter laugh. “Yep. I’m sure you heard the road’s blocked?” He waited for our nods. “A few men went out in their car a couple hours ago to where the blockage is and were going to hoof it into town from there. We haven’t heard anything more from them. Hopefully they made it.”

  Barrett looked nervously around us. “Do you mind if we keep walking? I feel like a sitting duck out here.”

  We started walking again. After a couple minutes I asked, “Have you seen any of the zombies out here when you were bringing people to the House?”

  Thompson didn’t answer but Jennings did. “No, we haven’t seen anything and we haven’t been attacked. None of the others we’ve seen at the House have seen anything either. It’s like they’re just waiting. I’ve seen a couple shadows that seemed to be moving, but every time I shone the light on it there was nothing there.”

  “I’m sure you’re just seeing things, Jennings. Man up,” Thompson said.

  He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world as we walked down the middle of the road. Idiot didn’t have his gun at the ready. We walked in silence for a couple more minutes and then Barrett closed the gap between us and whispered softly into my ear, “I have a bad feeling about this, cahuna.”

  I nodded at him. I did, too. It felt like there were a million eyes watching from all around us. A million mouths opening and closing in hunger for our flesh.

  You ever see those movies where the group of heroes is walking in the middle of the night and you, the viewer, can see all the monsters watching them from all sides just out of range of the lights and their vision? You can see the monsters closing in silently, closing the gap slowly as they hunted the heroes. You’re yelling and screaming at the screen for them to turn around and see the monsters and run like hell to get out of there but of course the heroes continue blithely on because they can’t hear you.

  Why the hell weren’t you yelling loudly that day?

  A zombie appeared out of nowhere in front of Thompson where he was leading the five of us. He really should have had his gun out. I have no idea where the zombie was before, but it was just suddenly there in front of Thompson, hands reaching for him. Thompson screamed like a little girl and fumbled for the gun in his pants. I didn’t know who the zombie had been, but I recognized him in passing as one of our random neighbors. His hands closed on Thompson’s throat and his mouth clamped tightly on the top of his skull.

  The teeth weren’t sharp enough to get through the skull with one bite, but the zombie was working it like a dog with a bone.

  Jennings had started screaming the second the zombie appeared and he ran from the back of the pack to aim his shotgun at the zombie holding Thompson. His face was pale and his eyes were so wide that all I could see were the whites of his eyes. I yelled at him to stop but he didn’t hear me. All he had eyes for was that zombie. He pulled the trigger on his shotgun.

  The recoil from the b
last shot him back at least a foot and the barrel was pointed at the sky. My ears were ringing from the sound of the shot, but I could still hear Fannie Mae’s screams behind me. Her scream could pierce through anything.

  Jennings had missed the zombie completely.

  Thompson’s head was nothing but a bloody stump. To give Jennings credit he’d blown the head right off.

  The zombie stood there for a moment chewing the air. It hadn’t quite registered the change in its food yet. Jennings was screaming at the bloody heap of Thompson as it slid to the ground, neck stump pumping arterial blood into the air and all over the zombie. The zombie was covered in gray brain matter and bits of white skull. I don’t think it had even been nicked by the shotgun blast. Jennings had his shotgun pointed at the ground and I don’t think he even registered that the zombie was still there. He was off in la-la land.

  I raised my shotgun and pointed it at the zombie. I guess my movement finally made it register my presence. It stepped over the completely dead body of Thompson. Thankfully I didn’t think he’d be rising again. I aimed the shotgun as best I could and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened. Ah, shit.

  I remembered loading it and making sure there was one loaded in the chamber. What the hell was wrong with it? Had Barrett screwed me? Had he unloaded it? I dropped to my knees and looked back at him. Screamed, “Barrett! What the hell?”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off the approaching zombie. Fannie Mae stepped back and cold-cocked him on the cheek. He fell to his ass with a thump and that finally made him pull his gaze away. He looked at me, blinking rapidly. Finally he found his voice. “The safety, cahuna. I turned on the safety.”

  Fuck. I had no idea where the safety was. I tried to ignore the zombie as it closed the distance on us, looking for the safety in the fading light. No fucking idea. Thanks for killing me, Barrett.

  “It’s next to the trigger, Duke! A little push button rod!”

  I looked up at the zombie. It was no more than three quick paces from me. Its reaching hands were stretched out the length of its arms. It wasn’t looking at me anymore. Fannie Mae was the only one of us still on her feet. Its eyes were locked on her flesh. I flashed on the images from my dreams of Fannie Mae as a zombie, ripped to shreds. Shit, shit, shit.

  That was when my fingers found the only thing resembling a “push button rod” on the gun. I pushed it and it slid easily to the other side of the gun with a click. I’m pretty sure I was the only one who heard it underneath the screams of Jennings and Barrett. My breath was coming out of me in wheezing gasps as I braced the shotgun on my stomach and aimed it up at the zombie.

  I pulled the trigger.

  Oh my God. The shotgun pushed back into my stomach with the force of a train. All the breath rushed out of me in a gasp and black spots appeared in my eyes. I refused to pass out and die. Not while my friends needed me. I pushed the faintness away, forcing my body to take in air. Each breath burned in my throat.

  The zombie was still on his feet. He’d stopped at least. There was a gaping hole in his chest from the shotgun blast. He looked down at it and pushed one of his hands into the hole. Then he must have dismissed it as unimportant and took another shambling step toward Fannie Mae.

  “Screw this,” I mumbled as I swayed unevenly to my feet.

  The zombie finally looked at me. I took a step forward, pushing the release button so that I could chamber another round into the barrel of the gun. The smoking shell I had just shot ejected onto the ground, rattling on the gravel. As I stepped forward I brought the gun up to my shoulder, bracing it as best I could and pointed it from no more than a foot away at the zombie’s head.

  I’d like to say that I had some witty quip for it as I pulled the trigger, they always seem to in the movies. When they say it it always sounds like the exact perfect thing to say, but I had nothing. All I had was my rage and anger and sorrow that this was all somehow my fault. So I screamed as I pulled the trigger, pouring all my anger into that shot.

  It flew true. The zombie’s brains splattered out behind it and it fell to the ground in a clump, resting atop Thompson’s body.

  I was shaking with the heat of my rage. The shotgun was still pointed where the zombie had stood. Smoke rose from the barrel of the shotgun and rose into the dark evening sky. I could hear thunder rattling in the distance. Every breath I took in was followed by a sharp hiss of pain. My stomach felt like it was on fire. I looked over to where Jennings was sitting on the ground. He had his legs tucked underneath him and the shotgun was lying next to him. He was still staring at the headless body of Thompson.

  I went over to him and jerked him to his feet. He looked at me, a confused, shocked, where the hell am I look on his face. I considered slapping him but instead punched him as hard as I could. He went back down in the dirt and instinct must have taken over as he went for the shotgun lying at our feet. I stepped on his hand.

  “You’re a worthless piece of crap, Jennings.”

  He broke down crying again. Great.

  I put my shotgun down and put my hands in his armpits, dragging him back to his feet. I took a page out of Thompson’s book, “Man up, Jennings. We need to get to the House. We don’t have time for your mewling.”

  A piercing shriek broke out behind us. Now what?

  I turned to Barrett and Fannie Mae and saw what they saw. A veritable zombie horde was coming out of the dark toward us. They were in various states of disarray and distress. Some were missing limbs or giant hunks of skin. Some were missing pieces of their skulls. All were coming for us, moving slowly, at the pace of the damned. I don’t know how many were in the pack. Twenty? Thirty? Some I recognized as friends and neighbors. Others I didn’t recognize at all.

  All were coming for us.

  I screamed at Fannie Mae, “Get Thompson’s gun!” She scrambled for it as I bent over and picked up my shotgun. Jennings broke and couldn’t handle it anymore. He took off running in the direction of the House. The last I saw of him he fell to his knees and crawled a few feet before regaining his legs.

  Fannie Mae struggled to turn Thompson over and grab his gun from his waistband as the horde came for us. I don’t think any of us had any brave ideas of making a stand, we just knew we needed the weapons if we were going to survive at all. I only had six shots left in the shotgun and Fannie Mae had all my shells. There was no way I had time to get the bag from her, open it, dig the box out and then load the shotgun. And no way would six shots be enough to kill the horde.

  I bent over to pick up the other shotgun and my hand met Barrett’s. He’d crawled across the ground to come meet me. Our eyes locked. He saw the question in mine and nodded. “I can do it, cahuna. I can do it.”

  Those were the last words I ever heard him utter.

  The idiot picked up the shotgun and chambered a new round with a scream and charged into the approaching horde, gun blazing away. Shot after shot struck zombies. I have no idea if they were kill shots, but he was definitely hitting them. I made as if to charge after him but suddenly Fannie Mae was there before me. She put her hands on my arms.

  “No, Duke. No!”

  I paid no attention to her whatsoever, tears streaming down my face as I lost sight of my best friend in the world in the horde of zombies. They circled around him, ignoring Fannie Mae and me. She got a firm grip on my hand and tugged me away from them, pulling me the opposite direction.

  I knew this was why Barrett had done what he’d done, so that we could be saved, but I couldn’t reconcile that in my head. So Fannie Mae dragged me behind her as I watched my best friend in the world being buried in the mass of zombies.

  I flashed to meeting Barrett many years ago in school: the rich kid befriending the white trash.

  Looking at porn together once when he’d stolen one of his dad’s magazines.

  Smoking our first cigarette together and taking our first swig of my mom’s booze together.

  Throwing up violently together moments later.

&n
bsp; The easy grin on his face as he offered me the keys to his father’s car what seemed an eternity ago.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as he disappeared beneath the pile of zombies and the shotgun blasts finally stopped.

  Fannie Mae and I ran and ran and finally came upon the last bastion of sanity in this small corner of hell.

  We saw no more zombies on the way. Apparently they were all off doing other things or eating other people. Or eating my best friend Barrett.

  The fuckers. All my fault. All my freaking fault.

  We finally arrived at the House.

  14.

  The House blazed with the safety of electric light. They must have had the generator going. Once I thought about the generators all I could hear was their angry motors going off in the silent night. Smoke rose to the sky from the back of the House where the generators ran. As my gaze followed the smoke to the sky I saw the lightning flashing in the distance again. Apparently the storm was coming –soon. I had no doubt the clouds would break tonight and dump the rains on us.