Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (5 page)

The dawn was just breaking as Floyd and Mikki finally opened the storm cellar doors and headed down to Mikki’s sanctuary. Damn! The plan had worked!

Floyd had stared at the smoking ruins through the scope of his hunting rifle for about 10 minutes from atop the hill before heading down. Mikki covered him in case anything should jump out at them from the woods behind. A few creepers—or a few pieces of them—had survived the initial blast and Floyd dispatched them easily. Then it was clean-up time.

After scouring the rubble to check for movement, the pair entered each of the remaining buildings. They found a few stragglers and former pets stuck in corners, bedrooms—even a bathroom—and sent them to their eternal rest.

Cats were the worst. Nothing creepier than an undead cat. Cats have a nasty enough howl when they’re alive. Even worse when they’re zombies. The buggers hide in the tiniest spaces and jump at you from out of nowhere. Floyd had always hated cats. That wasn't likely to change anytime in the near future.

After clearing out the last few buildings in the town, Floyd returned to his truck with Mikki, circled the perimeter, and drove through the woods, trying to attract anything undead. The town was clean.

Now they were back at Mikki’s. After crashing for a few hours, Floyd awoke and started gathering his gear. He was hoping to sneak out, but after years of waking at the slightest sound, Mikki heard him and turned on the light. “You headed out?” she asked, alarmed.

“Yup.”

“Take me with you!” she begged earnestly.

Floyd let out a long sigh and said, “Look, we’ve been through this. I don’t have room for you. And besides, you’ll be a lot safer here than on the road with me.”

“Come on! You know no one is really safe anymore. If you lived here, would you ever let your guard down? Even for a second?”

Floyd ignored her impeccable logic. “That’s not the point. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll run into. I live on my own. I do what I want. I don’t want anyone tagging along.”

“Come on! We make a great team! Look at what we did last night! That was great! We blew up a whole town fulla creepers.
Boom!
It was great!”

“You almost got us killed right off the bat when we first went into the city hall! Why can’t you just stick to a plan?”

“Oh, that plan was blown to hell when the first creeper grabbed you. And I saved your ass, if you remember! And who else do you know is as good a shot as me. I killed more of those creepers than you did!”

“The hell you did! I shot more of them!” Floyd retorted, although he knew he hadn’t actually been counting. He had been too busy shooting anything that moved in the dark to worry about counting corpses.

“Oh, you may have
shot
more,” Mikki conceded, “But I
killed
more.” You gotta take out the head you know.”

“Yes, I know! Of course, I know!” Floyd was really raising his voice now, clearly perturbed.

“Look, you think this is some kinda game? I been killing zombies for more than two years now, all on my own! All by myself. And I’m pretty damn good at it. You know how I know? Because I’m still
alive
, that’s how! And I don’t need no snot-nosed teenage girl telling me I’m wrong about every damn thing every damn minute of every damn day!”

Mikki looked stunned. She froze for a few moments, then burst out into tears. Cataclysmic major-drama tears.

“You hate me!” she whined, burying her head in her pillow as she wailed.

“No…I…I don’t hate you.” Floyd stammered.

“Yes you do! You hate me!”

“No, really! I’m just used to being on my own. I’m only thinking of you. We argue too much. It would never work out, you know?”

Mikki sat straight up in the bed again, tears streaming down her face. “Take me with you,
please!
I swear I’ll be good! I’ll be quiet as a mouse! I don’t take up much room. Honest! I travel light. And I’ll watch your back for you. Just please don’t leave me here all
alone!
”

Floyd hung his head. Goddammit! Why couldn’t he have just snuck out when he had the chance?

“Look,
if
you come with me, you gotta do everything I say, the way I say it. Got it? No arguing, no complaining, and no more crying! Or so help my I’ll dump you off on the side of the road. Got it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Mikki sniffled. “So I can come? I can really come with you?”

“Yeah, fine, sure! Come along!” Floyd was exasperated.

“Great! What are you waitin’ for, then? Move it lard ass.” Mikki smiled as she grabbed her shotgun and a small backpack and headed for the stairs outside.

“Whoa! Wait a minute? That’s it?”

“Sure,” Mikki replied with a big smile, throwing the backpack over her shoulder. “I told you I travel light.” She turned to head out, but stopped and abruptly turned back to say, “And Floyd…thanks. Seriously.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied wryly. “I mean it, don’t mention it. Ever. ‘Seriously.’”

“So you really named your shotgun?” Mikki asked as they barreled down the road.

“Yes. I did,” Floyd answered, annoyed.

Floyd was already tired of her questions, but he held his temper. It wouldn’t do him any good to lose it, or he might wake up with a combat knife in his throat. He had moved some of the gear he normally stored around the passenger seat into the covered bed of the truck. Now he wished he had stuffed Mikki there instead so he wouldn’t have to listen to her yammering.

“So your shotgun is ‘Ol’ Faithful’ and you named your truck, ‘Freedom.’ What’d you name your two favorite pistols, ‘Bonnie and Clyde’?” She started laughing. Floyd said nothing, aggravated more than anything else by the fact that he actually liked her idea.

“I’m gonna name my shotgun Lucy. How do you like that, Lucy, old girl?” She patted the shotgun on her lap.

“Holy crap! Can you please try to
not
point a loaded shotgun at me when I’m driving?”

“Oh, sorry. When should I point it at you? Haha! Just kidding. So how many miles a gallon you get out of this rig anyway, like 12?”

“38, actually.”

“Bullshit!”

“No, really.”

Floyd was getting more annoyed by the second. Any minute now, he’d dump her off on the side of the road and never look back.

“How’d you manage that?”

Floyd took a deep sigh and said, “It ain’t that hard once you take of all the government-mandated smog crap. Catalytic converter my ass. I made a few other modifications the EPA wouldn’t approve of, but I figure since I’m the only car on the road, I can own a bigger carbon footprint. Besides, air pollution ain’t the biggest problem anymore in a world fulla brain-eaters.”

“Yeah, no shit. So you’re pretty smart with cars, then, huh? That’s good. I like a man who’s good with his hands. Most of the men I ever knew were worthless.”

Floyd was about to tell her he really didn’t care what kind of man she liked, but she interrupted his thoughts (again), saying, “Hey, Floyd. I gotta go.”

“What? After all that crying to get me to bring you along, now you want to go? We’re in the middle of freakin’ nowhere!”

“No! I mean I gotta go! I gotta take a pee.”

“Oh for God’s sake, I told you to go before we left!”

“I didn’t have to go then! We all gotta go sooner or later. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, for the love of—fine! We seem to be in a pretty safe area. Next time give me some warning, will ya?” Floyd stopped Freedom in the center of the road. “There you go.”

“What, out here?” Mikki asked.

“Well, it ain’t like anybody’s gonna see ya. Here.” Floyd reached behind the seat and handed Mikki half a roll of toilet paper.

“Wow, you really do think of everything, dontcha?”

Mikki grabbed the roll and stepped down from the cab. Floyd grabbed Ol’ Faithful and stood watch, scouring the horizon, careful not to look directly at her. When she finished they returned to the cab.

“Where do I wash my hands?” she asked.

Floyd smiled and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer.

“OK, that’s just creepy,” Mikki laughed. “You really do think of everything!” She opened her palm and he squeezed a small glob onto her hands.

“I told ya. I been doing this a long time,” Floyd replied. “You hungry?”

“Starvin’.”

“How ‘bout a hot meal?” Floyd asked.

He took out his key ring and unlocked the two hood locks he had installed in the truck. A metal case was under the hood in the back, near the engine. It was really hot, so Floyd put on one of his leather gloves and opened the metal lid.

“Mac and cheese or beef stew?” he asked, pulling out two old military MREs packed in triple-layer, foil and plastic pouches. Good thing they had about a 10-year shelf life.

“Beef stew.”

“Beef stew it is.”

They tore open the tops and sucked their food straight out of the pouches. To Mikki’s surprise, it was actually pretty good. The food was plenty hot, but not hot enough to burn her mouth. She was beginning to have more respect for Floyd. After all, he had survived on his own for a while. Maybe this goober hick wasn’t quite as dumb as she first thought.

Floyd put in two new meals, jumped back into the cab and fired up the engine. He scanned both bands of the radio and got nothing but static. He left it on as he headed down the road again.

“So why do you have the radio on if you know there ain’t no music?”

“I want to see if I can pick up that signal I heard before,” he said wearily. “Or any other signal anywhere around.”

“I miss the radio,” Mikki mused aloud. Floyd wanted to beat his head against the steering wheel. Or better yet, beat her head against the steering wheel. Or against a rock. Something.

“I used to sit in my room late at night listening to the radio.” Mikki continued, to Floyd’s chagrin. “It was my only connection to the world outside my house. Now I don’t even have that. Hey, what the hell is ‘colitis’ anyway?”

“Say what?”

“You know, like in
Hotel California
. The song? ‘Warm smell of
colitis
, rising up through the air.’ What the hell is colitis? I looked it up on the Internet once but it said it was an ulcer. That cain’t be right.”

“Wait a minute. You know the EAGLES?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I love the EAGLES! But that was before your time. How do you know about the EAGLES?”

“I used to listen to the oldies station when I was growing up. About the only thing I could get other than Mexican radio and bible bangers. Why do Mexicans put a tuba in a rock ‘n roll song? Or an accordion? What’s up with that? I don’t get it. I don’t speak Spanish, neither, so I never knew what they was singin’ about, anyways.

“I really got into the EAGLES, the Doors, Led Zepplin, you know, all the greats. Sometimes I think we took a wrong turn and ended up in Hotel California. ‘You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.’ So what’s colitis? It sounds kinda sexual for some reason”

“It’s ‘colitas.’ I think it’s some kinda desert flower.”

“Oh! Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.”

Mikki started singing, “On a dark desert highway. Cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.”

Her voice wasn’t half bad. Floyd joined in. The two started wailing loudly, “This could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

“Boy, ain’t that the truth!” Mikki interjected.

They continued singing every old song they knew for nearly two hours. Then Floyd caught sight of something off in the distance. He slowed to a halt and peered through his binoculars. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said aloud.

“What is it, Floyd?”

“Well, it sure ain’t the Hotel California. It’s a big-ass army truck. Stopped in the road ahead. No sign of movement. Here, take a look.”

He passed the binoculars to Mikki as he threw the truck back into gear and moved slowly forward. It wasn’t unusual to pass cars smashed into the guard rails of a superhighway, but this truck was just sitting there in the middle of nowhere over a long bridge, like it had deliberately pulled over. It looked like a troop carrier, but if it was, where were the troops? Or
what
were they? There were still a couple of hours of daylight left, so it was worth investigating.

Floyd drove slowly by the army vehicle. It was definitely some kind of armored troop carrier with huge tires. He didn’t see anyone in the front cab and all the doors of the vehicle were shut. He saw two machine guns of some sort lying on the ground and shell casings everywhere, but no bodies. Floyd didn’t like this at all.

He turned off the ignition, pulled on his plastic armor, grabbed Ol’ Faithful and stepped out of the truck. Mikki threw on her football helmet, grabbed Lucy and jumped down on the other side. Floyd locked the truck doors behind them with his remote to prevent anything from getting in the cab when they weren’t looking. He had long ago disabled the chirping sound and flashing lights that might attract brain-eaters.

Floyd picked up one of the machine guns with his left hand, keeping a tight grip on Ol’ Faithful with his right. “These guns have been here for a couple months at least,” he said. “So has the truck. They’re covered in filth. This doesn’t make any sense. All these bullets and no bodies?” He checked the magazine in the automatic rifle he picked up and there were still a couple of bullets left. “They didn’t even finish this clip.”

“Well, more firepower for us,” Mikki remarked, grabbing the weapon from him and picking up the other one off the ground. She laid them against Freedom’s front bumper. Then she lit up a cigarette and took a long drag through the facemask of her helmet, blowing the smoke out the side of her mouth with the cigarette still stuck firmly between her lips.

“Yeah, if we can find some more ammo,” Floyd commented. “Must be some in back of the army truck.”

Floyd peered in through the tiny windows of the double doors in the back of the vehicle. He saw nothing, so he shined his flashlight inside. A hideous face slammed against the glass from the inside, eyes blank and mouth gaping.

“Holy crap!” he yelled, falling backwards off the truck and landing flat on his back. Mikki doubled over laughing as he hit the ground.

“Geez, Floyd, you oughta be expecting that by now!”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

The creature was pounding on the door and trying to bite his way through the glass. It wasn’t working.

Mikki jumped up and shined her strobe inside. It was much brighter than Floyd’s flashlight. As soon as the light hit, the creature backed away. There were two other creatures inside, as well, all wearing army uniforms. Of course, with their minds gone, they had no use for the machine guns lying at their feet inside the vehicle, but what caught Mikki’s eye were the stacked boxes marked, “Grenades.”

“Jackpot!” she exclaimed, dropping from the vehicle to tell Floyd what she saw. She took up a position about six feet back from the truck and told Floyd to throw open one of the doors.

“Are you crazy? Let’s just go!”

“Are you kidding? They got boxes of grenades in there! We used all my dynamite and those grenades can come in mighty handy. Come on! Pop the door. I got this.” She stuck the cigarette firmly in the side of her mouth as she took another drag, a wicked smile on her face.

“Wait a minute! You want to shoot a shotgun into a truck loaded with grenades?”

“Oh, relax. Them grenade boxes ain’t stacked that high. I’ll be aimin’ for the creeper heads as they come out. The light will stun ‘em anyway since they been in that dark truck for so long.”

“I am so gonna regret this,” said Floyd, as he readied Ol’ Faithful in his right hand and grabbed the outer door handle with his left. “And watch your aim! I don’t need you to go shooting me by mistake!”

“No problem! I told ya, I got this!”

As soon as Floyd pulled the door outward, Mikki lit up her strobe light. It usually wasn’t effective during the daytime, but these creatures were used to the darkness in the truck. They started for the door, then froze as the light hit them just long enough for Mikki to fire off a few rounds. The first two bodies fell outside the truck and the last one fell backwards onto the floor. Something else came flying out of the truck and Mikki instinctively blew it away without recognizing what it was.

“See?” she smiled. “Nothing to it.” She handed Lucy to Floyd and jumped in to grab a box of grenades.

“What the hell?” Floyd scanned the area around them. They both heard the sound, but neither of them recognized it. It was like a chirping sound, but kind of ragged. Floyd’s eyes went wide as he realized the sound was coming from under the bridge. He screamed at Mikki, “Get back in the truck!”

She came out holding a box of grenades with both hands and asked, “What truck? Your truck or the army truck?”

“
My
truck!” Floyd screamed, as he jumped inside Freedom. Mikki jumped down from the army truck and nearly fell over, carrying the grenade box. It was too heavy for her, but she wouldn’t let it go. Floyd threw open the passenger door from the inside as she approached. Mikki chucked in the grenade box just as a black cloud appeared around them.

It was a horde of bats. Zombie bats. The shotgun blasts had awakened them. Soon they were all around as Mikki jumped in and slammed the door shut.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quick enough. Two of them flew inside the cab. With his gloved hand, Floyd reached over and grabbed the one that had lodged itself in her Mikki’s facemask, trying to bite her. He crushed it and threw it to the floor of the cab. Mikki was screaming and batting at the other one away as it fluttered around, but it latched on to her right forearm. She screamed even louder.

“It bit me! It bit me! Kill me Floyd! Kill me now! Don’t let me turn! Don’t let me turn!”

Floyd reached over and grabbed the foul creature, squeezing it ‘til the head popped off. He threw the bat’s body down and grabbed the cigarette out of Mikki’s lips, jamming the lit end into her arm where the zombie bat had bitten her. She was too hysterical to feel the pain. Floyd, sucked on the cig to get the end glowing again as he watched Mikki’s arm intensely. Sure enough, a thick purple line started to escape from one end of the burn would, so he jammed the cigarette into her arm again, right where the line was emerging. Smoke rose from her arm and he could smell her burning flesh, but there was no more spread of the infection.