Jason Jones - Trailer Park Zombies

If we’d have had a third we were going to name him Duke, but Fannie Mae had complications from the birth of our Tammy and the doctor said we shouldn’t have anymore. He thought that she couldn’t survive another pregnancy. It was an easy decision for me to go get a vasectomy. A quick snip and a tug and 20 minutes later I was driven home, nursing my balls. Fannie Mae took care of me like I was a king for the next few days. It was amazing and just made me realize all over again how much I loved her.

Hell, I woke up every day and fell in love with her all over again. She was always that 14 year old girl with the braids to me. My little Fannie Mae.

Barry had his first kid when he was 25. He had fallen in love with his high school sweetheart, too, and I could see that theirs was a deep, abiding love was as well. He named his boy after me – after my new government name – but the boy quickly earned the nickname Duke from me and his grandmother. She called him Dukey. Barry had no idea where the nickname had come from and Fannie Mae and I could only give him our quick, secret smile.

We never told the kids about Litchville, Kentucky, and the horrors that had happened there.

All in all we had six grandkids. When I was old and gray it was the best thing in the world to have them all climbing all over me and screaming for grandpa to read them a story or play games with them. I was their favorite and we all knew it. Grandma didn’t mind. She knew how much the little ones meant to me. They were my whole world.

After her, of course.

I was 96 and on my deathbed. Not really dying of anything specific. Just old age. My Fannie Mae lay on the bed next to me, holding my head and stroking my hair. She whispered words in my ear that half the time I didn’t understand. I’d look up at her and smile my goofy grin at her, thinking about the 80 or so years that we’d spent together. The events of that weekend and my 16 birthday blurred together and finally some of those memories were allowed to rest.

My grandchildren and great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren stood around us, arrayed silently as I lay dying on the bed. Fannie Mae swore that she’d follow me within hours but I told her not to be silly. She still had at least 14 good years left in her. I know I murmured some of our secrets in front of the little ones but they didn’t understand, didn’t know what we were talking about. We’d kept the secret all those many, many years.

As I lay there dying I thought about Barrett and Tamara and Mason Smith. And Washington, who’d gone so wrong there at the end. He’d… he’d…

No. None of that had ever happened. We’d been saved and rescued and Fannie Mae and I had had our lives together forever and ever. Forever, dammit.

If only.

21.

Washington pointed his gun at Fannie Mae as the zombies closed in around us. His eyes were dark with his insanity. There was nothing of the man left. I glanced at Kevin where he held the barrel of my shotgun. He looked like a rabid dog: spit sliding out of his mouth and dripping on the ground. Shaggy was over there looking like he wanted to tell us all to go to hell and run off on his own. I didn’t blame him, that’s what I wanted to do, too.

I did the only thing I could think of; I pulled the trigger of the shotgun where it was pointed at the sky. The roar and flash of light it made as it fired filled the night sky. Kevin jumped back from the noise and heat and brought his hands to his ears. I swung the shotgun up and hit him on the head with the stock of the gun, breaking his fingers. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, moaning and holding his head. Everything moved in slow motion as I swung the shotgun back in Wash’s direction. I pumped the shotgun, ejecting the empty shell and following the arc of it with my eye.

Wash’s finger pulled back slowly on the trigger. His gun was still pointed at Fannie Mae. I stepped in the path of his gun and pulled my trigger. He shot in our direction at the same time. Fannie Mae cried out behind me and pushed me, but I held my ground. I felt his bullet graze my arm, furrowing a path through the meat of my bicep. I cried out and fell to my knees.

My shot had gone completely wide of Wash. He grinned at me when I looked at him, his eye twitching madly. I was holding my bleeding arm and Fannie Mae was standing over me protectively. I tried to push her out of the way but she wouldn’t budge.

Shaggy’s voice broke the moment. “What are you doing, Washington? We’re surrounded by zombies and this is what you want to do? Kill each other?”

Washington turned to him. “Cork it, Shaggy. We’ll take care of the zombies after we take care of him. We’ll leave him wounded here for the zombies so they can have their little midnight snack. That’ll keep ‘em off us.”

Shaggy shook his head. “I don’t think so, Wash. I didn’t sign up for this crap. If you want to kill a teenager then you can do it without my help.”

He turned to go and Wash swung his gun to point at his back. I cried out a warning and tried to bring my shotgun to bear, but my arm was too weak. Wash grinned humorlessly at me and pulled the trigger. Shaggy stumbled and stopped, turning back to face us. His hand was holding his chest and blood was bubbling out of his mouth. I could see the question on his face. I could have answered it for him if I had any mind to. There was no reason. Wash had just gone insane. Snapped from the strain.

He tried to bring his gun up but Wash shot him again, twice. The second shot took off the top of his head.

Wash turned back to me. “See. That’s how you do it. Take off their head so they can’t get back up.” He took a step toward me. I’m guessing it was so he could get a better shot at my head.

That’s when a zombie rushed out of the darkness and bit him in the neck. He screamed and brought his gun around, spasmodically pulling the trigger. I guess he hadn’t counted his shots. His clip was empty. The zombie came around to his front and started tearing the flesh from his face. From behind me Fannie Mae said, “Oh my God.”

I saw it the same second that she did. The zombie was Barrett. He was horribly disfigured and barely recognizable as himself. Almost every bit of flesh was missing from his body. Internal parts and pieces were oozing from what looked like several hundred bites. Most of his face was missing, the flesh ripped into pieces. He smiled a deaths-head grin in my direction as he ripped Wash to shreds. I don’t know how I recognized him, but I just did. Some tilt to the head or set of the shoulders. Something. But it was definitely him.

I didn’t even feel Fannie Mae pulling at my armpits, trying to force me to my feet. One part of me knew that she was crying above me. I could hear the sobs coming from her as she tried to get me up. I instinctively helped her, digging my heels into the dirt and pushing up. My shotgun still lay cradled in my hand as I held it uselessly. I couldn’t shoot him. Not Barrett. Not my friend. Logically I knew there was no way it was really him. There was no part of him left.

Still, emotionally I thought that he’d just saved me from Wash. Wash had been about to shoot me in the head and Barrett intervened, eating him in my defense. I couldn’t repay that by killing him. Maybe another minute, another hour, another day away, I could. But not here. Not now.

Barrett stood motionless staring at me and Fannie Mae. I could see other zombies streaming out of the darkness behind him. They were moving slowly, inexorably, toward us. It’d be mere moments before they came upon us. Barrett’s mouth opened and the skin and gristle drizzled slowly from his mouth. He locked eyes on me and tilted his head to the side. I swear I could see his eyebrow cocking on his head. He took a step toward us, arms rising slowly in our direction. That zombie need to eat and eat and eat coming over him.