Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (8 page)

It had to be an interesting sight: Floyd in his battle armor and Mikki with her cutoff jeans, short top and football helmet, pulling a bright red kid’s wagon with a dead body on it. Well, half on it…sort of. The body was wrapped in a blanket with the torso in the bed of the wagon, but the legs were hanging off the back and dragging on the ground. Mikki carried a shovel Zeke had given her over her left shoulder and had Lucy propped up on her right shoulder. Floyd pulled the wagon with his left hand and carried Ol’ Faithful in his right, occasionally changing hands as his muscles got tired. Zeke had neglected to mention that the church was close, but up a freaking hill. At least the return trip would be much easier.

Mikki looked in the windows of all the little shops that lined the way. Or rather, the gaping holes where windows used to be. Down one of the wider streets was a building that caught Mikki’s eye. It was a school building surrounded by overgrown grass.

“Hey, Floyd, I gotta make a pit stop.”

“Goddammit, I told you to do go before we left.”

“I didn’t have to go before I left. I gotta go now!”

Actually, she didn’t have to go. She just wanted an excuse to get into the schoolroom to look for books. Science books, chemistry, mechanics—anything. Of course, she knew better than to tell Floyd that. He could argue with her, but not with nature.

“Just leave the wagon there for now,” she continued. School’s only a block away and it ain’t like he’s goin’ anywhere without us.”

Floyd was too tired to argue with her. He knew she was up to something, but frankly, he had been looking for any excuse to ditch the wagon for a while now. It wasn’t yet noon and they were close enough to the church that they could afford to take a quick break. Floyd parked the wagon against a wall on the corner so it wouldn’t roll away and Mikki leaned the shovel against the wagon.

“What the hell is that?” Floyd asked.

“What?”

“What’d you do to your hand grenades?”

“Oh! That’s us,” Mikki answered with a big smile.

She pulled a grenade from her waistband and held it up. She had used nail polish to draw a big red heart outline on it. Inside the heart, she had painted “F+M.”

“With love from Floyd and Mikki,” she explained proudly.

Floyd broke out laughing. Then she started laughing with him. Suddenly neither one could stop laughing. It was way funnier than it should have been, but the absurdity of it wouldn’t let them go. Floyd leaned against the wall, laughing and laughing as Mikki nearly doubled over. Every time they stopped for a second, they burst out laughing again.

“With love from Floyd and Mikki,” Floyd repeated through fits of laughter. “Oh, that’s great!”

Eventually, the laughter subsided and Mikki said, “Wow, Floyd, I don’t think I never laughed that hard in my whole life!”

“Me neither. Certainly had nothing good to laugh at for quite a few years. ‘With love from Floyd and Mikki.’ Damn, girl, you are something else.”

“Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it! Will you do me a favor?”

“Maybe, whatcha want?”

“Paint mine when we get back to Zeke’s? Hell, let’s paint ‘em all. That’ll be our thing. Like ‘Kilroy was here.’ We can paint our symbol on the walls when we clear a building. Or just to say we were there. Or just for the hell of it.”

“That’s a great idea, Floyd! Sure, we can do that!”

They made it to the schoolhouse pretty quickly. Two big glass double doors led to a long hallway inside lined with lockers. The glass in the doors was all shattered and broken, so they stepped through the frames to enter. The lights in the hallway were still on, however, indicating a lack of zombie infestation, so Floyd and Mikki relaxed a little. A little.

“There’s the girl’s room,” Floyd pointed out.

“What?”

“The girl’s room. The toilet. You said you had to go.”

“Oh, right! Thanks Floyd.”

Mikki gently kicked in the door, with Lucy ready to fire. The lights were on inside here as well. She breathed a sigh of relief, but kicked open each stall and inspected every corner before lowering her shotgun, just in case.
Well, I’m here. I might as well use the facilities
.

Floyd stood guard outside. He didn’t know what Mikki was really here for, but he was smart enough to know he had been had. Whatever she was doing, he’d learn soon enough.

He was glad to be rid of that damn wagon for a little while—and out of the sun. His plastic armor was effective but it got hot and sweaty after a while. Floyd heard a toilet flush and he knew his break was nearly over.

“Damn!” Mikki complained as she came out. “What did they give these kids for toilet paper? More like sandpaper. Damn!”

“TMI,” Floyd responded. “Let’s go.”

“Hang on, I wanna check something out.” She turned and headed up the hall, opening lockers and inspecting the contents as she went.

“What are you looking for? You need a protractor or something?”

“Haha! Very funny. No, I’m looking for books. Anything I can use. Science books, chemistry. Books can keep ya alive, Floyd!” She continued her quest down the hall.

Floyd looked into the lockers. “Ha! You ain’t gonna find books like that here. Look at the size of these sweaters and jackets. They’re all tiny. This is a grammar school.”

“Oh, shit!” Mikki exclaimed. She had just figured out for herself that this was a grammar school by opening one of the classroom doors. She burst into the room and found she wasn’t alone.

About 20 little heads turned towards her. Roughly a third were seated politely in their desks. The rest were scattered about the room. 20 pairs of dead, filmy eyes stared at her. A couple of seconds later, the students started moving.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Mikki cried, as she jumped out of the room and slammed the door. Soon a crowd of tiny dead faces was gathered at the door, trying to push it open to get to her. Fortunately, the concept of a doorknob had long since left their little undead brains.

Floyd understood at once what she Mikki cursing about, looking through the little window in the classroom door. “OK, that has got to be just about the creepiest ass thing I have ever seen in my life,” Floyd said dryly. Then the moaning began.

“Goddam little bastards!” Mikki screamed, as she ran out of the schoolhouse.

Floyd followed her, but instead of running back to the wagon, she ran around the outside of the building to the wall of windows alongside each classroom. They were the kind that opened outward and upward. For some reason, none of the windows on this side were broken, but several were partly open.

“Hey, you little SOBs! Auntie Mikki got a present for you!”

The miniature army headed to the window, stacking up against the wall, just as Mikki had expected. She pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it in through the open window, shouting, “With love from Floyd and Mikki!” The kids were so crammed together it never hit the floor. It landed on a jumble of shoulders.

Floyd came running around the corner of the building just in time to see what Mikki had done. Yelling, “Oh, Shit!” he turned tail and headed back the way he came as fast as he could.

“Fire in the hole!” Mikki shouted as she ran past him, a huge smile on her face.

BOOM!

Mikki didn’t hesitate. Before Floyd knew it, she was gone again, laughing like a crazy woman. There were three more classrooms. Three more grenades. Three more explosions.

“Are you done now?” Floyd finally asked.

“For now. I’m outta grenades. Luckily there were only four classrooms. Hey, Floyd, can I borrow some of your…”

“No! We only have a limited number of grenades, Mikki. You can’t waste them like that or we won’t have any left!”

“Shit, Floyd, what’s the point in havin’ grenades if we don’t use ‘em?”

“I don’t mind using them, but I want to save them for when we need them most!”

“Well, I needed ‘em most,” she said as she headed back to the building. She looked inside and said, “Eeeeew! OK, you do not want to see this. Zombie kid stir fry.”

She came back to Floyd, who merely said, “With love from Floyd and Mikki.” The two began laughing hysterically again, all the way back to the wagon.

They made it to the church without any further incidents. It was a little, old-fashioned church on the far side of a tall hill…maybe 150 years old. Probably could seat about 300 people. Whitewashed wood with a steeple topped by an ornate metal cross. There was a small graveyard off to one side. All the gravestones were from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. There had to be a bigger graveyard somewhere else in the town, but Floyd was in no mood to look for more dead people. A big sign in front said, “Saint Margaret of Antioch Roman Catholic Church.”

Just to be safe, they decided to check out the church first. There were two large wooden doors in front, but a sign said, “Enter using the side entrance.” An arrow pointed to the right, the same side as the graveyard. The side door was locked (a good sign), but Floyd kicked it open and they entered, ready for anything.

After the schoolyard and everything else the two had been through over the past couple of years, the scene was almost surreal. The place was completely silent. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows, filling the place with colored light. Everything was quiet and peaceful, like the outside world had ceased to exist.

A man in black seemed to be kneeling at a low rail around the front of the church. The two approached as silently as possible. They needn’t have worried. After poking the body with their shotguns a couple of times, they realized he was dead. Not undead. Really dead. And his back was covered with dust. A string of rosary beads was in his hands and he wore a white collar. Must have been the priest who ran the place. Clearly, no one had visited in a while.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Floyd mused out loud.

“And a helluva lotta dust, at that. We gotta bury him, too, Floyd.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cain’t just leave a holy man like this. He’s gotta be buried. Who else is gonna do it?”

“Oh, come on, Mikki! I already got one grave to dig. Now you want me to dig two?”

“Yeah! It’s the right thing to do, and you know it!”

“So what, are you getting religion now, in your old age?” Floyd joked.

“Maybe. I just don’t want to leave him here like this, OK? Please, Floyd?”

Floyd looked at her, shocked. Mikki had never said ‘please’ for anything before. Except when she begged him to take her with him in his truck, and that was a trick. Floyd saw that she really meant it this time, and he had to admit she was right. To himself, anyway. He would never admit that to her.

“Alright, Mikki. I’ll get the graves dug. We only got one shovel, so you stay here. I’ll call you when I’m done. But you gotta help me get the bodies in the holes, got it?”

“Yes, sir! Mister Man, sir!” she said with a smile and a little salute, again. Only this time, Floyd noticed she was a little less snarky and had a little more of a smile.

Floyd began digging the holes outside while Mikki looked around. She had never even been in a church before. Her momma died early and her dad was no church-going man. By the time she knew what a church was, she was 11 and he was trying to grope her every chance he got. Not that Mikki ever let him. She had bloodied his lip more than once. Then one day, he got stinking drunk and tried a little too hard. It was the last thing he ever did.

Mikki liked the church. It was really pretty. There was a big white marble altar in front, covered with pretty green and gold cloth, and about a quarter inch of dust. Several statues looked serenely down at her from all around the place. One was an angel dressed like a roman warrior stepping on the devil’s neck and sticking a spear into his back. A little sign said, “Saint Michael the Archangel.” Mikki didn’t know where he’d been the last two years, but the world sure coulda used him. She’d been doing his job for him.

Another statue on the side had a plaque that read, “St. Margaret of Antioch, Patron Saint of the Dying.”
How appropriate
, Mikki thought to herself.
Sure been a whole lotta dying goin’ on around this town
.

Over on the side stood a big iron table with about a hundred small, burned-out candles in it. The pedestal that held the statue had a little wooden pocket in front with a bunch of small, dusty cards in it. Mikki grabbed them, blew off the dust, and looked at one.

It had a picture of Saint Margaret on the front and the story of who she was on the back. There was also a small prayer, “Saint Margaret of Antioch, pray for us to the God of Mercy. Protect us in our time of death and save us from the snares of the devil. We ask this through Jesus Christ, His only Son, Our Lord, in unity with the Holy Spirit. Amen.” But it was the story of the story of the saint’s life that really got to Mikki.

She couldn’t wait to tell Floyd about it when he came back. She sat down in one of the pews to enjoy a zombie cake with a bottle of water. She kept the cards in her hand, alternately staring at the picture of young Saint Margaret and the church decorations all around her.

It didn’t take Floyd too long to dig the two graves. He thought of dumping the two bodies in together, but he knew Mikki—and his conscience—would never let him do it. Besides, it’s not like he had to get home to a dinner party. He had taken off his armor and shirt and his chest was covered in dirt and sweat. He poured some water over his shoulders and down his chest to rinse away some of the grime.

Floyd was finally ready for the bodies. He didn’t really need help, but he was going to make sure Mikki did her share. It was the principle of the thing. As soon as he went inside, Mikki called him over.

“Wow, Floyd! You been workin’ out? I had no idea you were so buff!”

Floyd sat down beside her, a little self-conscious. He would have put his shirt back on if he hadn’t left it outside.

“Yeah,” he said, “Working out hard to stay alive every day.”

“Where’d you get that scar? Lose a bar fight?” She pointed to a curved, 10-inch scar that ran along the top of his left pectoral muscle and down the side.

“Ha! Nothing so dramatic. Pretty stupid, in fact. I was 11 and I fell off my bike.”

Mikki broke out laughing. “Fell off your bike? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. I landed in the gutter where some moron had tossed a busted beer bottle. I went skidding along the pavement and ran right over it. Mom said I was lucky. Another few inches and it woulda sliced open my neck. That woulda been bad.”

“I bet! I saved you a zombie cake.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the Twinkie.

“Hey Floyd, look at this!”

“Who’s that?” he asked as he chomped on the Twinkie, looking at the picture of a girl in long robes wearing a little gold crown, gazing up to heaven.

“Saint Margaret. Get a load of this. She died in 304 A.D. Was kicked out of her father’s house when she was a kid for being a Christian. I can relate to that. Of course, I left on my own, but still. She became a shepherdess until some creep tried to push himself on her and she refused, so he had her tortured. They tried to burn her and drown her but she wouldn’t die, so they cut off her head. She was only 15. And get this, she’s the patron saint of the dying!”

Floyd stared at her vacantly. This was obviously striking some kind of nerve in Mikki, but he couldn’t follow her logic. “So?” he finally asked.

“Don’t you see? Maybe this ain’t a coincidence that we ended up here. We can do a good thing by buryin’ that priest. And Saint Margaret was just a regular person, like us. They tried to kill her and they couldn’t, so they cut her head off. Just like a zombie!”

“So you’re saying she’s the patron saint of zombies?” Floyd unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snicker.

“No!” Mikki retorted, defensively. But maybe the patron saint of zombie hunters! Like you and me.”

Floyd sat in stunned silence as Mikki looked at one of the cards, realizing she was serious. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“Floyd, do you believe in God?” she finally asked.

“Yeah, I reckon I do. I been to church a few times. Was baptized when I was like 10.”

“I never been in a church before. I don’t know what I believe. I mean, if there is a God, where the hell has he been? Ain’t this his world? How’d he let it get so crazy with the dead walkin’ the earth and everything? What’s up with that? But if he ain’t up there, watchin’ over us, then how come we’re still alive? I know I shoulda been dead a bunch of times, yet here I am.”

“Bible talks about an apocalypse but doesn’t say what it is. Or when. Just that the Devil will walk the earth. I don’t know if the devil is making these dead people rise, or if some government experiment went crazy, or the Russians attacked us, or some evil corporation made a virus that got out of control. All I know is I shoot the damn things when I see ‘em.”

“I heard about the Rapture. People goin’ up into the air to meet Jesus. Maybe it happened and I missed it? I was a bad person Floyd. A really bad person. Were you a bad person?”

“I don’t think so. I ain’t perfect and I never went to church a lot, but I never cheated no one, never stole nothin’ and always tried not to lie.”

“No, you’re a good man Floyd. I reckon if the Rapture happened, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, I didn’t hear any reports of large groups of people flying up into the clouds, either. I heard reports of walking dead and that was so outrageous people didn’t believe it until it was too late. I’m sure if the Rapture came, we woulda heard something about it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But if that’s true, then where is the Rapture? Why the hell don’t it come yet and take us away from all this?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Mikki. I don’t have any answers. I’m just a guy trying to stay alive and make whatever sense I can out of this upside-down world where the dead walk and kill the living. Maybe some government big shot knows what’s goin’ on. Maybe he’s planning something to help, or maybe he caused this problem. I just don’t know. I got bigger things to worry about, like whether I’ll live to see tomorrow. Or whether you’ll do somethin’ stupid to get us both killed!”

Mikki was about to yell at him, but then she saw the smile on his face and realized he was poking fun at her. “Oh, very funny! Haha!” she said, tucking the holy cards into her bra. The face of Saint Margaret peered out from above the sheer pink lace.

Floyd was about to say something about how he didn’t think that was where you were supposed to put holy cards, but he stopped himself. What did it really matter anyway? If God was up there, He’d understand. If He wasn’t, then it did no harm. Besides, if He
was
up there, the two of them needed all the help they could get.

Mikki handed him one of the cards, saying, “Keep this on you, will ya, Floyd? I know it’s probably silly, but it will just make me feel better. If you don’t mind.”

Floyd wasn’t superstitious, but he saw she was pretty intense. For whatever reason, it clearly meant a lot to her. “Alright, Mikki,” he agreed, taking a card and putting it in his pocket.

“Thanks, Floyd. You
are
a good man, Floyd.”

“And Mikki?”

“Yeah, Floyd?”

“I want you to listen to me very carefully.” He took her head in his hands, brought his face close, and looked intently into her eyes. He spoke slow and sincere, so she would hear him clearly and know he meant every word.

“You are a good person, too, Mikki. Never forget that. Never doubt that. OK? You’re a real pain in the ass, but you are
not
a bad person. You just had a bad life with a lot of shitty stuff that happened to you. Alright?”

Floyd had never seen Mikki look so vulnerable before. Her bottom lip quivered. She was on the verge of tears, but wouldn’t let them come. Floyd placed his hand on her head momentarily to reassure her.

“Come on,” he said at last. “We got work to do. And hey, guess what? After we bury these two, we get to go shopping!”

Mikki looked up at him and smiled.