Trailer Park Zombies

He nodded. I could see his eyes calculating the odds. “Rodriguez, go get that boy out of the car and bring him back here.”

Rodriguez eyed the empty space between us and the car and then wiped the chunky bile off his face with the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, boss.” He ran towards the cars.

Washington looked at me and Felix. “You guys ready?”

“Let’s do it,” I said.

Felix just nodded.

We spread out in a line like gunslingers out of an old West movie. All we needed was a tumbleweed going past and frightened townspeople huddled behind us to make it right. A clock tower tolling the hour. And the sun of high noon, too. That would have been helpful. I raised my shotgun to my shoulder and sighted on a zombie. I wasn’t sure how well the shotgun would work from the now 15 feet or so that was between us but I was willing to give it a try.

Before I could fire my shot a blast went off right next to my head.

“Jesus, Washington. Warn a guy why don’t you?” He grinned at me. I looked at the zombies. One of them was now on the ground and a few behind him were falling over as they tripped on the body. I guess the shotgun was deadly enough from this distance after all. “Good shot.”

“You can’t be the one having all the fun,” he said.

We set to firing with a will. Not every shot found its mark but quite a few did. It’s not like in the movies where suddenly everyone is a crack shot and can hit the zombies right between the eyes. Still, we did manage to fell half of them within the first few seconds of the firefight – not that it was a firefight as such since they weren’t exactly firing back, they just kept coming. The seven or eight that were left were no more than 10 feet from us when I got down to one knee and started reloading my shotgun. I had two shells in when I turned around to see what was taking Rodriguez so long.

Another line of zombies was coming our way. They were between us and the cars, strung out in a very thin line. The closest was not three feet behind me. She was butt naked.

“Fuck,” I screamed. “Wash!” I dropped the shell I’d been about to load and cocked the shotgun, loading the shell into the chamber. I braced the shotgun on my bad thigh and fired at her. The shot hit her in the throat, taking out most of her neck and spine. The gore flew out behind her and splattered on the next zombie. I cocked another shell in the chamber to take her out but she collapsed to the ground. Her head rolled to a stop at my feet.

A wave of agony rolled through me at the kick back of the shotgun on the goose egg in my thigh. I bit back the scream and gained my feet. Fired at the zombie behind the naked chick and felled him quickly.

“Wash!” I screamed again. “They’re coming from behind us.”

“I know, dammit!” He yelled back. “But we have a problem up here, too.”

I looked back at the horde in front of us. They must have called in reinforcements as the numbers had swelled back up to near 20. Shit.

The next zombie was no more than three feet from me, arms outstretched and blood-encrusted fingers reaching for me. I brought the shotgun back up to bear and shot him. Tried to, at least. The click of the empty chamber seemed extra loud on the night air. The zombie’s fingers closed around my throat.

Panic welled up in my brain as my breath cut off. The others had no idea what was going on. I could still hear their guns firing from a few feet away. Black spots welled up in my eyes as I held my arms and the shotgun in front of me trying to keep the zombie at bay. I fumbled in my pocket for a shell as the zombie began to squeeze harder. My fingers finally found one, but it skittered away from my touch. Darkness closed in on me and I knew I was only moments away from unconsciousness and then death. And then undeath.

My fingers finally found the shell again and I closed my hand hard around it, bringing it out of my pocket. I gave the zombie a shove with the shotgun, using the last of my breath to give it a little extra oomph. It didn’t release or loosen its grip, but its feet slid back in the mud and gave me a few extra inches to work. I quickly slid the shell into the chamber and did my best to cock the shotgun where it was pressed against my chest.

I didn’t have the time or leverage to brace the gun as I brought the barrel underneath the zombie’s chin. My finger finally found the trigger and I pulled it. The top of the zombie’s head flew off in a spray of blood and bone. His fingers tightened for a second on my throat and then let go and he collapsed backwards onto the ground. I fell back to my knees, wheezing and trying to catch my breath. I reloaded the shotgun as quickly as I could, eyeing the line of zombies coming up.

Suddenly the head of the zombie nearest me burst apart in a spray of blood. I looked over toward the line of cars as I heard the pop pop of a handgun. Rodriguez was coming up the lane holding his gun in one hand and firing at the zombies while pulling the boy behind him with his other hand. The boy could barely keep up and kept slipping in the mud but Rodriguez had his hand in a death grip.

Apparently Rodriguez was a crack shot. Every bullet from his gun took out the head of another zombie. The line of zombies behind me was quickly eliminated. Thank God. I gripped my throat, feeling for any breaks in the skin or any blood but all I felt was what I’m sure would become a nasty looking bruise by the morning. I’d been very lucky that the zombie hadn’t had a hangnail or gotten the chance to take a chomp out of me.

I turned around to see how Washington and Felix were doing and saw them putting the last two zombies down.

We had a break in the action, thankfully. Felix held his hand out to me and I took it, rising to my feet slowly. My breath came to me slowly and the lining of my throat was burning. Felix kept a hold of me once I was standing to make sure that I was okay on my feet.

Washington grabbed me by my other shoulder and stepped in close. “You okay, Duke?”

I nodded at him and whispered, “Yeah, just peachy. Can we get out of here?”

We all turned to look at Rodriguez. He’d stopped just in front of the last car and was reloading his gun. The boy, some young pup on the verge of manhood that I didn’t recognize, was leaning back against the car, hands covering his eyes. From the look of him I’d say that he’d be lucky if he didn’t live the rest of his life in an insane asylum. He whispered something and Rodriguez stopped in the act of pulling a clip from his back pocket.

“What’d you say, boy?”