My last post for this month is Z, obviously. Z is for Zombies.
And I was feeling lazy today. So, I didn't write anything, but I did write what is here. This is a chapter from my book (still unfinished). There are a couple of running gags in the story that I am not going to explain here, but shouldn't not distract from this short section. It is about 3,100 words, so it is significantly longer than my usual posts.
All you need to know is that in this world, due to reasons it would take too long to explain, when some people die, they don't completely die. They become zombies. But not violent, brain-eating zombies. They are basically a public nuisance. The two main characters work for the city dispatch crew. They respond when a zombie needs to be taken care of. It is John's (JB's) first day on the job. I hope you enjoy it.
There
were hundreds of kids in the parking lot as parents and buses were dropping
students off to start the school day. Due to the traffic, Pops had to park the
truck by the street in front of the school sign.
FTERLING COMMUNITY HIGH FCHOOL
BAFKETBALL TRYOUTS TODAY
“Damn
it, Pops. Tell me why we’re here.” Pops had refused to tell John about the
call. He wanted it to be a surprise. “You’ll see” was all he would say as he
wiggled his eyebrows and clenched the cigarette in his teeth.
Pops
jumped out of the truck and waved at the students and teachers who had stopped
to look at them. The arrival of the FRT truck was rarely good news. Undeterred,
Pops dropped the tailgate. “JB, gimme a hand, will ya?”
Pops pulled out a four-foot pole that had a cable noose at one end and tossed it to
John. “Is this one of those dogcatcher poles?” Pops smile widened as he said
“Yep. And you’re on pole duty for this one, so check it out. Hit the release
knob on the end there to make it snap tight and be damn sure you have a good
hold on those rubber grips so it doesn’t slip away from you. This is gonna to
be a big one. Let’s go.” Pops spun on his heel and headed toward the entrance.
John
followed in resignation. He had several more questions, but knew Pops well
enough that he understood no more information was coming. Pops loved his
surprises and badgering him for more details would only make him more excited
that he knew something John didn’t.
As
they stepped through the crowd to get inside Pops whistled, “Wow, JB. This
place hasn’t changed at all since we ravaged these halls.”
“We
only graduated three years ago. Did you expect trees to be growing in here
now?”
Pops scoffed, “No, but I wonder if Mr. Hausen is still watering that pot plant I
stuck in with his other herbs.”
The
crowd of staring students parted for them as they made their way down the hall.
“Where we headed?” John still had no idea where they were going.
“To
the cafeteria,” said Pops and lowered his voice, “but keep it quiet. Ralph said
the principal wants us to keep a low profile.”
“Low
profile as we park in the middle of a crowd and walk through the hallways with
a dog catching pole. Maybe we should have just sat low in the seats and driven
the truck through here so no one could see us.”
“Hey,”
Pops snapped. “I hear your sarcasm and raise you a sense of adventure. Isn’t
this fun?”
“I
believe we have very different ideas of what makes something fun. I didn’t care
for this place for the four years I had
to be here.”
Pops
retorted, “I think you and I can both agree you had fun with Sara Lange in that
janitors’ closet right there and you appreciated being here that day.”
“Let’s
just do what we’re here to do. Okay?”
The
bell signaling the first class rang just as they approached the cafeteria and
the crowd reluctantly dispersed. John and Pops stepped into the kitchen and
witnessed a disheveled woman mopping a large pool of thick red liquid up off
the floor. The crimson stains were splattered all over the room. The bottom of
her pants was soaked with it and it looked like she may have rolled in it
before cleaning. It even appeared to be dripping from her scraggly hair. One of
the metal countertops was turned over. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere.
Another woman was in a corner scrubbing a table with a sponge. John immediately
gagged.
“I
think I’m going to be sick. That’s a lot of blood.”
Pops
signature grin never faltered. “I don’t smell any blood. Smells just like it
always smelled in high school. Bleach and janitor puke dust.”
The
cook with the sponge looked up. “It’s tomato soup. Birget was cooking it when
she had her heart attack. Think it was a heart attack. She’s always popping
those heart pills. When she fell, she pulled it down on top of her. Spilled it
everywhere.”
John,
still a little green from his first impression, asked “Who’s Birget?”
Pops
eyes lit up, “It’s Ms. Braun. Surprise!”
“What?
Ms. Braun, the horrible lunch lady with the sideburns and the hairy mole that stuck
out the top of her shirt? She’s still here?”
“For
the next ten minutes or so. We’re here to pick her up.” Turning to the cook
mopping the floor, Pops asked, “So, where is she?”
The
cook leaned against her mop and explained, “None of us saw Birget go down ‘cuz
we was bringin’ in a delivery in the back. When she woke up, she got to spreadin’
the mess she made all over the kitchen. Slippin’ and slidin’ everywhere. Makin’
all kinds of racket. She contaminated this whole room and was gearin’ for the
pantry. We tried to corral her outside, but they’re not much for followin’
directions, you know. She’s a big girl. We couldn’t keep her down. In all the
commotion, she fell into the walk-in, so we just closed her in. Bitch is in
there now messin’ up all yesterday’s prep work.”
The
other cook shouted, “Have some respect for the dead!”
She
shot back, “Neither one of us respected her when she was alive. You especially.
Why start now? Plus, all that banana pudding you made for today is in that
cooler. What do you plan to do for dessert now?”
Pops
eyes opened wide, “You were going to serve banana pudding with tomato soup. And
you guys always questioned why I never ate in the cafeteria.”
The
cook with the sponge scoffed, “Oh, please. You never ate here because you
always spent your lunch smoking pot in the locker room.”
John
immediately jumped to Pops’ defense. “That is not true. It was usually in the
parking lot.”
The
first cook paused as she looked at John, “Ain’t you Hank’s boy?”
John’s
eyes dropped to the floor. Being recognized as the son of the late great Hank
Millner always made him feel like a failure in comparison, especially since
returning home from college in defeat.
“Yeah. Hank was my dad.”
“Really?
Me and him went to school together. He went out with my sister a few times.
Always liked him. He was a good man. Even back in high school.” She shook her
thumb toward the walk-in, “Anyway, all the ruckus in the cooler died down about
half an hour ago.”
Pops
turned to John with his eyes wide with excitement. “Grab your pole. This is why
we’re here. Pretty awesome for your first clean up, huh?
Pops grabbed the handle to the walk-in cooler and winked at John. “You ready, JB. Let’s do this.”
“Wait a second. What’s the plan? What exactly do you want me to do?”
Pops released the handle and cocked his head in confusion, but it only seemed to make his smile bigger. “Dude, that’s what the dog pole is for. Just get a hold of her and I’ll do the rest. You’ll get the hang of this pretty quick.”
“Put the loop over her head?”
“No, dipshit. Use it to grab her boob…YEAH, put it over her head. Just get a hold of her and hold her still so I can get in there. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Pops grabbed the handle again and flung the door open. “Go get her.”
John took a breath and stepped toward the cooler. The place was a mess. A five-gallon bucket of sliced pickles had been toppled. The pickles had spilled all over the floor and mixed with the contents from the containers of mayonnaise and mustard that had burst when they dropped. One of the shelves was knocked over splattering all the prep work from the previous day onto the wall and floor.
“I don’t see her,” John quietly said to Pops.
Pops whispered back, “Why are we whispering?”
The cook with the mop spoke up, “The cooler doesn’t have a back door. She’s in there and we need her out. We have less than three hours before we have to start feeding 400 kids. Let’s go.”
Pops banged on the cooler door with a spatula and explained, “Let’s get her attention. Sometimes they slow down a bit if they’ve had plenty to eat and I’ll bet you a carton of smokes she stuffed herself in there. They’re like babies. They put anything in their mouths and all that’s in there is food. Well, what the school calls food anyway. I could never eat it.” He banged louder, “Let’s go, Braun. JB wants to show you something.”
John heard a groan from inside the cooler and willed himself to step inside. To his right, behind one of the metal shelves, he could see the end of Birget’s foot. He moved a few items for a better look and saw her lying on her back on the floor. Her clothes were covered in the tomato soup from the kitchen and various other sauces and gravies. Both her and the cooler were such a mess, she was almost camouflaged into her surroundings.
John stepped around the shelf trying to keep his footing on the slippery floor while checking to see that he had the loop at the end of the pole fully loosened to easily get it over her head. There wasn’t much room between the shelves and Birget’s head was facing away from him. She didn’t appear to care that he was there. She just stared up at the ceiling and occasionally at John as he positioned himself at her feet.
John draped the cord over the back of her head and tried to pull it back toward him. With her head resting on the floor, the cord didn’t slip over her head to her neck. He adjusted the cord length once again and made a second attempt. As he was positioning the pole, Pops banged on the door again. “Come on, JB. What’s taking so long?”
The sudden noise startled John and made Birget jump. She raised her head to look toward Pops voice and John jerked the cord onto her neck like he was hooking a fish. He snapped the release and the cord immediately tightened. Triumphant, John yelled, “I got her.”
His loud voice in that small cooler seemed to agitate Birget and she flipped over to get to her feet. The sudden unexpected motion pulled the pole from John’s grip. Frozen, he just stood there watching Birget thrashing around and slipping as she tried to stand on the slick metal surface of the cooler floor. Pops appeared in the door and laughed, “You gonna grab her or what?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
John struggled to grab the pole as she continued slipping around, but even the rubber grips had gotten slick from the condiments and sauces they had accumulated from the floor of the cooler. Eventually, Birget was standing and suddenly slowed as she spied a large square pan of banana pudding. John seized this opportunity to grab the pole and get a steady grip as she plunged her meaty paw into the yellow goo to put into her mouth.
Pops shouted out his brand of encouragement, “You picked her up. Now, close the deal. Get her over here out of that corner.” John tightened his grip and gave a little tug on the pole. She didn’t budge from the pudding. He pulled again with the same non-result.
Pops took a step closer and with his rarely serious expression explained, “Look, she’s already dead. She can’t be hurt any more than being dead. Now stop being so polite and get her out here. You got this, JB.”
John nodded in agreement. He wiped his hands on his pants to remove some of the mess and got a good grip on the pole. He leaned forward and jerked back with a strong pull to get her moving. The sudden motion combined with the slick floor pulled his feet out from under him and he crashed to the floor pulling her down on top of him.
John struggled to get free, but the confined space between the shelves and the weight of Birget’s massive frame had him trapped. Plus, her cleavage was pressed against his face and he could feel what he imagined was that half dollar-sized furry mole tickling his upper lip. He wanted to scream for Pops to help, but was terrified some of the pudding oozing out of her mouth might land in his.
Birget was gurgling through the pudding and pawing at John’s face when he felt Pops grab him around the shoulders. Pops put his foot against Birget’s shoulder and pulled John free. Before John could get up, Pops stepped over Birget and held her to the floor with the pole as she thrashed around still trying to stand.
“Okay, what have we learned?”
John, still winded and sputtering through the pudding dripping off his face answered, “I learned that you suck as a trainer.”
“Well, this is my first slip n’ slide situation, but we learn as we go, don’t we. Let’s get her outside and put her down.”
“Why not just do it right here? You already have her under control.”
“Think, JB. We’re in a food storage area. There’s usually a lot of blood. We gotta get her outside or the Board of Health’ll bitch at us.”
John stepped forward pulling a Salisbury steak from his underwear. “What do you suggest?”
“She’s a big girl. I don’t reckon we should let her back up. Keep her pinned down with the pole. I’ll try to coax her forward.”
Pops held what was left of the pan of pudding in front of Birget’s face. Once it got her attention, she lurched for it. John released the pressure enough to allow her to move, but not enough to let her get her legs under her. She moved slowly, but they were getting closer to the exit.
After a few minutes, they reached the door of the cooler. Pops fired up a cigarette and offered to switch places with John. “Just steer her toward that back door. We can finish her when we get to the grass.”
A loud voice bellowed, “You’ll do no such thing, Leslie. This is a school with kids running around everywhere. I will not risk one of them seeing you killing Ms. Braun.”
John and Pops recognized the voice of their old principal immediately. John had never liked the man, but he was much better at hiding it than Pops was. Of course, Pops wasn’t much for hiding his emotions anyway.
Pops answered with no attempt to conceal his loathing, “Hey, Billy.” Pops gave the ‘Billy’ extra emphasis. “Technically, she’s already dead. We can’t kill her.”
The man straightened his back and held his head higher as he scolded, “Leslie Poplawski! I am still the principal here. You will address me as Mr. Werner.”
Pops motioned for John to hold the pole again as he stepped up to meet the principal chest to chest. “Well, Billy. As I told you every week of my freshman year, ‘As long as you insist on calling me Leslie, I will call you Billy.’ Remember, Billy. And…I don’t go to school here anymore, Billy.” Pops paused at the end of each sentence before giving the “Billy” extra punch to drive it home.
“Just get her taken care of inside. You can’t do it outside.”
“Whatever you say.” Pops took a quick puff of his cigarette and added another “Billy.”
“And is that a cigarette? Put that out immediately!”
John saw the twinkle in Pops eyes as he answered, “Why? Will you give me a detention?” Pops was loving this exchange and John certainly enjoyed watching it.
“You can’t be in here if you’re smoking!”
Pops motioned toward the pole being used to hold Birget down. “Sure thing. Come hold this and we’ll be on our way, Billy.”
Exasperated, Mr. Werner stormed out of the kitchen. “Just get her out without anyone seeing you.”
Pops was grinning ear to ear when he turned back to John. “Damn, that was fun. I’ve missed that.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together as he glanced around the room. “Okay. Let’s lead her over to the drain under the sink. I guess we could do it there.” Turning back to the cooks, Pops asked, “Could one of you lovely ladies grab me a knife? I think I left my tools in the truck.”
All this month, I am participating in the
A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is
Z for Zombies.
