Valley of Death & Zombies Page 27

  Lopez shook his head and looked disgusted. “For the record, no one knows who did it. But off the record, of course I know it was him. I talked with Earl and agreed to have a security camera set up covering the hallway outside the bathroom. If he leaves the bathroom again and it floods we'll fire his lazy pathetic ass. I'll show his uncle the video if he bitches about it.”

  “Hidden camera?” Bo asked, smiling.

  “Not that Willie ever notices much in the first place, but yes it will be well hidden. Now go play nice with him and get it done. Also have Wyatt give his wife a call. She keeps bugging me. Told me she's been having a bad feeling all morning.”

  A squad car pulled up to the curb and Bo said in a grave and slightly goofy voice “No problemo mi capitan.” and hopped in the car.

  “Onward Jeeves.” Bo, said settling into the passenger seat.

  “Don't call me Jeeves.” Willie said, as he finished eating a chocolate doughnut and wiped his hand on his pants.

  “Okay, how about if I call you the plumber? I hear you're good with toilets.”

  “Shut up.” Willie said, as they drove away.

  The microphone handset on his shoulder crackled- “Captain Lopez, you have a call from Dillon at ICE.”

  Lopez keyed his mike, “Tell him to hang on I'll be there in a second.” he said, flicking the cigarette butt into the fountain and walking back to the police station.

  Maria wrinkled her nose and coughed softly. “How can you stand the smell? You really drive this thing for a living?”

  Josey was in the midst of duct taping a metal road sign over the passenger side window. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he looked at her then back at the road to the trailer park. “Everyone's gotta do something. As for the smell, I dunno, guess I just got used to it.” He said, looking thoughtful as he secured the metal sign with another long strip of duct tape. “Do you know when the colonel's trailer was brought here?” he asked, chewing on some nicotine gum and then pulling on the sign to see if it would stay in place. It wiggled a little but it seemed fairly secure.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, watching the road and rubbing her eyes.

  “Well if it was recently brought here, like within the last few years, it probably still has tires on it- maybe hidden under it.” He said, carrying the other sign to the driver side door. “I'm sure it wasn't built here so it must have been driven in sometime, right?” He asked, using the last of the duct tape to strap the sign over his window.

  “I don't understand. Even if it had wheels it hasn't got a motor. How would it move?”

  He reached into the truck smiling, patted the steering wheel, and said. “I think I have a plan. We drive in, hook his trailer up to the truck, and pull them and ourselves out of here.”

  Maria almost said something but she wasn't sure what was wrong with his plan. She sipped some water and looked down the road.

  Josey finished securing the driver side door and went back to scavenging while Maria kept an eye on the road. It was hard to climb over the piles of trash and he missed his old crowbar he’d dropped in the well. He found a rusty shower curtain rod that served well as a walking stick while he hunted, holding the sword in the other hand. What the Hell do I expect to find out here, anyway? A machine gun? He thought, wandering through the trash.

  After another minute, he lifted his head and looked back at the truck. It was about a hundred yards away. It's not the truck. But that sure sounds like a motor. What's going on? Josey wondered, as he heard the faint chugging of a motor. It wasn’t the truck's engine and it sounded close. Spotting a trail that ran into some tall shrubs and trees, he whispered “What the Hell is going on here?”

  Walking slowly he passed a spray painted piece of wood with words, in English and Spanish that read GO AWAY OR DIE. Charlie Farro, I think I found your hideaway. He thought, with a faint smile on his lips. A few yards further along the heavily overgrown path he saw a bloody severed foot inside the steal jaws of a bear trap and a decomposing body with the remnants it's head providing a banquet to a swarm of flies and bugs. He didn't like the situation at all, but the motor sound was much closer. Deciding to take a chance he walked past the body even slower. As he walked he used the shower curtain rod to prod the ground before he stepped, in case there might be more traps around. Following the path around a gigantic boulder, he glanced back the way he’d come then looked down the path where he was certain a motor was running nearby and stood undecided.

  He listened hard and heard voices faint, yet unmistakable.

  “Gilligan, you lamebrain, that was for the rescue ship to see.” Followed moments later by “Sorry skipper.” Then the closing credits music to the classic TV show Gilligan’s Island could be heard. He went off the path continuing toward the sounds, trying to stay under the cover of the shrubs and bushes. He had almost forgotten to prod ahead for traps and was lucky he hadn't. Josey heard a TV commercial blaring nearby, when the shower rod was jerked from his hand as a loud clank sound came from just in front of him.

  The metal rod stood upright, still slightly shuddering a foot away, in a patch of pretty yellow flowers. Fuck! He thought, as his heart pounded and his body shook. Using the sword he moved the flowers enough to see what he expected- Another bear trap. Looking around another large boulder, to his right, he saw a clearing with a double wide trailer sitting in the middle. Hanging from the roof there was a large Confederate battle flag. A huge morbidly obese woman, with long blonde hair, was sitting in an electric wheelchair on a wooden porch outside the trailer holding a shotgun across her lap. She was close enough for him to see her chugging a beer while watching a flat screen TV sitting under a dark green camouflage awning.

  He looked at the gun and was thinking hard, when a man’s voice came from inside the trailer. “Dawn Mary, turn that shit off and come help me with the next batch!”

  Her voice was loud, deep, and amazingly masculine as she yelled back “I’m on guard duty, you stupid faggot! Might be more of them damned fucked up wet backs prowling around!” She reached for a package of cookies sitting on the table next to her and continued. “I thought I heard something a while back!”

  “Bitch, you couldn’t hear shit with that stupid TV on! Turn it off yer wasting electricity. The propane won’t last forever. Especially since that, shit for brains, son of yours still ain't back with the replacements.” the man said, walking outside naked except for his dirty red apron that had the words Kiss the Cook on the front. The man was skinny, almost emaciated looking in Josey’s opinion and yet he instantly recognized him.

  Oh my God, it’s the Redneck Gourmets. Jesus, what's next today? he thought, nearly panicking as he eased back into the foliage. He knew of them from reputation and none of it was good.

  His friend Patrick had become a Meth addict a few years ago and it was just two months after he started selling for the Redneck Gourmets, that they found his body in the alley behind his parent’s house. Patrick had been such a great guy in high school and his goofiness was legendary. Some kids did mean or dangerous things, but Patrick always came up with the funniest ideas anyone ever heard of.

  Once, he had a five thousand word essay to do on the long term effects of global warming. He submitted a manila folder that contained five big color pictures, he'd taken. The pictures showed teenage girls putting on sunscreen at the pool dressed in micro bikinis.

  When Mr. Baker, the Science teacher, asked what it was supposed to mean he just smiled and said “A picture is worth a thousand words. So five pictures should be just enough for a five thousand word report.”

  Mr. Baker told him in front of the class, it was “disgraceful” and announced he would receive an F for the assignment. Patrick later confided the dirty old man worked out a deal to give him an A if he’d secretly take more pictures of girls for him.

  The last time Josey had seen Patrick was last Christmas, driving around in a brand new Corvette. He was going around telling his friends he was going to be the richest bastard in al
l of Albuquerque. Patrick just laughed when he was asked what he would do if he were arrested. He said he worked for a couple of rednecks who he was scamming money from. He’d pick up twenty thousand dollars worth of Meth from their kid, called Yugo and would give the kid two or three thousand dollars and they never seemed to catch on.

  “It’s their picture the cops have because they’ve been busted a million times. Me, I’m mister squeaky clean suburban all American sex machine. Don’t worry about me, the Redneck Gourmets are inbred morons, they’ll never catch on.” Were the last words he heard from him.

  Josey shuddered thinking about how Patrick's body was found. He was forced to swallow pennies, and then when he couldn’t swallow anymore they must have forced more down his throat until he died. He heard rumors that the gurney used by the paramedics broke because the penny filled Patrick was too heavy. Also he heard when the body fell off the gurney it burst open like a piñata spilling coins and guts all over the alley. The police were sure it was the Redneck Gourmets, but neither they or their kid had been seen in months until today.

  Josey heard them continue to argue, as he tried to quietly follow his trail back the way he’d come. This is just great- homicidal zombies on one side, homicidal Meth cookers on the other. Josey thought, as he carefully walked back. Every few steps he'd stop and look over his shoulder until he reached the truck.

  “Find anything?” Maria asked, yawning and looking tired in the truck’s passenger seat.

  “Nothing good.” He answered, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Listen, I gotta do some stuff to the back of the truck, you just keep watching. Two things though, Don’t honk the horn if you see them coming, just yell, and keep an eye on the way I just came from too.”

  “I don't need a bath.” Billy whined, as he stood in his torn and dusty clothes.

  “You march in there now mister and if you aren't spotlessly clean when you get out of that tub, I'll give you another spanking.” Mrs. Remlap said, hands on hips, looking down at the filthy boy.

  Billy grumbled under his breath as he kicked off his shoes, went into the small bathroom and closed the door. His butt still hurt where she'd paddled him after he'd hugged his grandpa when he got back. She was a mean old lady. That was one thing Billy knew as he lowered himself into the bathtub filled with bubble bath. He had wanted to keep watching to see what would happen next, but after the truck drove off nothing had. Oh sure a few guys were wandering around the park, but nothing cool like all the gunfire earlier.

  “Thanks for giving him a spanking. The little fart scared ten years out of me wandering off like that- ten years I really can't afford to spare.” Colonel Lester said, leaning over the dog on the floor. He looked at the dog's leg and used his straight razor to shave off the fur around the snake bite.

  “God looks out for little children and dumb animals.” she said, looking down at the dirty dog. Boris looked up and licked the old man’s hand as he worked on his leg.

  “This dog may be dumb, but I don't doubt if he hadn't been with Billy I'd never have seen my grandson again.” he said, rubbing the wound with an alcohol soaked washcloth. Boris whimpered softly as he finished cleaning out the wound and wrapped it with a bandage.

  “Will he live?” she asked, wandering over to the window and looking outside.

  “He's got as good a shot as any of us do, I think.” he said, gently scratching a spot behind the dog's ears. “I think he was mostly exhausted. I didn't see too much discoloration around the bite mark so hopefully he didn't get a lethal dose of venom. Of course, I don't know, seems to me if he were going to die he'd be dead by now.” he said, as the dog's tail thumped softly on the floor.

  Bo drummed his fingers impatiently on the squad car's dashboard, watching Willie Dunn standing in line inside Rebekah’s Doughnuts & Treats shop. It felt like he’d been sitting there for thirty minutes since Willie had pulled in saying “Just a sec, be right back.” and trudged inside for a mid morning sugar and cholesterol fix. Bo pulled his pocket knife out and cleaned some gunk out from under his fingernails as he tried to be patient. After finishing all the fingers on his right hand he looked in the store again.

  There was only one other customer in front of Willie. It was a middle aged woman, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a woman he used to see a lot on TV and hated. He could only remember her first name- Rosie. The Rosie lookalike was wearing a leopard skin style pair of spandex pants and a bright purple shirt which swelled out around her stomach like she was smuggling a beach ball. A fat little girl, wearing identical clothes to her mom, could be heard through the store's window.

  “Not that kind, I don’t like lemon filled- yadda yadda yadda.” He tuned out the girl's loud shrill voice and started work on cleaning the fingers of his other hand. After all his fingernails were immaculate he leaned back, saw the big lady pull a checkbook out of her purse and start writing. He looked at the siren switches on the dashboard and felt sorely tempted to flip them on.

  The bell on the door rang and he looked up. It was the elephantine mother and daughter coming out. The fat girl carried a big white box and trudged ahead toward a neon-green SUV, and then he glanced at the mother who was lumbering after the little girl who really wasn't that little. The mom gave Bo a wave, with her jumbo sausage-like fingers, as he read the words I’m not fat, You’re just anorexic printed across her enormous purple shirt.

  He waved back, with a single flick of his wrist, and the mother rewarded his wave with the most nauseating and unsettling wink he’d ever been the recipient of. He shuddered slightly and looked back in the store window.

  UN-fucking-believable! Bo thought, feeling his head pounding. Willie had taken a seat on a counter stool, a stool than was never designed for someone of his generous proportions. Bo pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture of Willie’s ass flaps of flab hanging down on either side of the stool. He smiled as he saved the picture with the word Yummy visible on the store's window and Willie’s saggy butt perfectly framed just behind it. His smile faded when the counter girl brought Willie a large cup of milk and set it in front of him. He gritted his teeth as Willie opened a newspaper that was on the counter, and started reading while drinking some milk.

  “That’s it.” Bo said, flipping on the siren and emergency lights. At the same time he grabbed the handset and flipped the car's speaker to public address mode- “This is the police. Come out now or you will get hurt.”

  Willie jerked, and almost fell off the stool, spilling milk on his shirt. The counter girl handed him a big white box and he came out giving Bo a dirty look.

  He handed Bo the box of doughnuts “What’s the idea of trying to give me a heart attack? I got some for you too.”

  Bo shut off the lights and siren looking at the box “Looks like you got enough for the whole police station. Can we please go now?”

  Willie squeezed into the car and backed it out of the parking lot. “It’s not like it’s anything serious, just a waste of time and gas running all the way out there. We could be doing something useful, but no. Hand me one of the cream filled ones, will ya.”

  “Here you go Billy.” The old man said, handing the boy a plate of sliced luncheon meat. Billy took the plate as he sat cross legged by the dog. Billy's butt still hurt but he was very happy that Boris would be alright and gave him a strip of heavily processed salty meat. The colonel went back to stand at the window with Phyllis.

  “That was the last of the food wasn't it?” she asked, looking out at the early afternoon landscape of derelict trailers, smashed cars, a burning bus, wandering undead, and the funeral pyre that had once been her house.

  He sighed and held her hand as they looked out. “Doesn't matter. We'll be out of here before you know it. I can feel it.” He didn't need to turn to tell that Boris was enjoying his meal. He could hear the steady slapping of the dog's tail as he and Billy enjoyed what might be their last meal together.

  “I hope you're right. Why haven't they come back over to the trailer? They
just wander around here and there.”

  “I don't believe they're thinking at all. I believe they're just operating on some basic level of instinct. They don't seem to remember we're even in here, but I bet if you walked outside and got their attention they'd be up and attacking again. Care to test my theory?”

  “No thank you.” she said, as they turned to watch the boy rubbing the dog's belly.

  Josey turned the large wrench and heard the tank on the back of the truck groan. “Almost got it.” he grunted, as the last rusted nut began to turn. The big tank creaked and shifted slightly yet stayed on the back of the truck as he tossed the nut into the trash dump. Looking nervously, back where he saw the Redneck Gourmets hideout, he repressed a shudder.

  There didn't seem to be any movement in the underbrush that led to their trailer and for that he was grateful. He pulled out the last few pieces of nicotine gum and decided to wait before using one and put them back in his coveralls pocket. Getting up off the paint can, he'd been using as a stool took a while. All his muscles ached and he felt exhausted. Testing his bad knee, he limped slowly back to the passenger side of the truck. “Is the coast clear?”

  “The closest are maybe a little more than half a mile away.” she said, looking out of the open passenger side door.

  Josey shielded his eyes and saw them clearly. They were both dressed in black and seemed pretty energetic. He estimated they'd be at the truck in less than ten minutes.