Trailer Park Zombies

He spoke a little louder. “Where’s Tamara Rogers? She was right here a few minutes ago. That’s why I stopped crying for help. She was trying to get in the car.”

Tamara? Oh, hell.

Rodriguez looked at the boy with a confused expression on his face. “Who?”

She came out of nowhere, rising out of the dirt behind Rodriguez and the boy. Rodriguez cursed and jumped back, dropping the clip in his hand. The boy was looking at Rodriguez and didn’t see anything. He didn’t have a chance. She reached out and used her long, manicured fingernails to rip his throat open. He collapsed to the ground without a sound, his neck in tatters.

Tamara was looking right at me. She looked just as we’d seen her this morning: beautiful, torn and deadly. Her eyes were locked on my throat. It was like she didn’t see anyone else. She seemed to be walking better than the other zombies had as she took several steps toward me. Rodriguez, God bless his soul, stepped in front of her, brandishing his gun like a club. She didn’t even notice him, digging both her hands into his shirt and simply shoving him away. I don’t know if she was that strong or he was just that much off- balance. He landed next to the boy, who hadn’t yet had the chance to finish dying. The boy was flopping like a fish on the ground with his throat gushing blood.

I brought my shotgun up to my shoulder, sighting for her head. It was so easy. She was just heading in a straight line for me. She was maybe moving a little faster than the others, but she was still a zombie. Still only had eyes for my throat and my meat. I could sense the others bringing their guns to bear next to me. I whispered to them, “No, please. Let me do this.”

I could sense them waiting as I whispered an apology to Tamara. I said it mostly under my breath but I hoped that on some level she was truly there and she could hear me and maybe it gave her some easement from her pain.

I shot her in the face.

She took another shambling step or two toward me and then collapsed forward, her head at my feet. My tears dropped on the hole in the back of her head.

The pop of Rodriguez’s gun filled the air as he re-killed the boy. Tears were streaming down his face, too. For some reason it’s always harder to kill a child.

The Acres were now truly silent.

17.

We made it back to the House without further incident. Maybe it was because we ran like bats out of hell. We no longer cared about being quiet or hunting for the zombies. We only wanted to rest in the last bastion of humanity and wanted to shelter in the light.

They saw us coming and opened the door right when we got there. The four of us ran pell-mell through the door and shouted at them to close it. Wilkinson quickly closed and barred it and Felix, Washington and I collapsed to the floor, leaning against the walls. All of us were out of breath and my whole chest and throat felt like it was on fire. My leg felt surprisingly spry given all the damage I kept dealing to it. Fannie Mae came out of nowhere and crashed to the floor next to me. She saw my throat and burst into tears, holding onto me tightly.

Wilkinson said, “Where’s Stubby?”

Washington just shook his head, refusing to answer. I managed to whisper, “He didn’t make it.”

“And the boy you went out to save?”

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I could see Tamara ripping the boy’s throat out with her nails. “No, he didn’t make it either.”

He sighed. “We heard all the shots. Did you kill any of them?”

Washington held a shaking hand over his eyes and finally found his voice. “Yeah, we killed some. About 30 or so I think. Isn’t that right, guys?”

Felix just nodded. “Yeah. Can I borrow your flask, Wilkinson?”

Wilkinson wordlessly handed it over. Felix tipped it over his mouth and we all heard him down the nearly full flask. He closed his eyes when he was down and leaned back and sighed.

Rodriguez was gripping his chest where Tamara had pushed him. He grimaced with pain every time he pressed. I’m guessing he was going to have a nasty bruise and wouldn’t have been surprised to hear he had a cracked rib or two.

“Was that all of them? Do you think you killed them all?” Wilkinson asked.

I flashed on Mason Smith and Barrett and some of the others I’d seen get taken today. I shook my head. “No. There’s definitely more out there.”

Fannie Mae looked up at me. “Did you get Barrett?”

I shook my head at her. “No, but I did put Tamara out of her misery.”

Concern crossed her face and she gripped me even more tightly. “Are you okay with that?”

“Not really. But I’ll wait til this is all over to break down.”

I struggled to my feet and Fannie Mae helped me stand there. I was very wobbly and all I wanted was rest. I towered over Washington and the others. “You need any more help right now, Wash?”

He shook his head at me wordlessly, not able to meet my gaze. His whole body was shaking along with his hand.

“Well,” I said, “I’m going to go take a little nap. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that I turned around and Fannie Mae helped me to our little spot on the wall. The crowd in the main room silently watched us. They’d all heard the shots and they all wanted details but the dark look on my face was enough for them to decide not to bother asking me. Fannie Mae helped me to a sitting position on the wall. It felt