Hillbilly Zombie Killers...

[supervike]

This is a 'serialized' story I wrote for on another website. Each installment (which came out about every 2-3 weeks) is divided by a series of asterisks....There are 6 installments here, but I never finsihed the story....Still though, if anyone would care to read it and give me some honest feeback, I'd be grateful. It was very fun to write.

I think only a few folks ever read it on the other site, and to be honest, I think they were just pandering to me.... The story is written in a corny 'tongue in cheek' style purposefully....

It didn’t take much to know something strange was going on in this part of the country. First off, Pa Mcgillicuddy noticed the Interstate traffic had increased heavily in the last few hours. The Interstate was a good four miles off to the north, but you could still see the glint of metal against the setting sun and hear the gentle drone of motors. Pa figured at first maybe some ball game just got done, but after he slopped the pigs and rounded the goats up, he noticed it had gotten even heavier.

Shortly after, the unmistakable thump of helicopters, plenty of them, rose and fell over head. Although it was getting on near dark, Pa could still see that they were military choppers, and they were heading towards town.

Still Pa tended to his evening chores, washed up, and settled into his chair at the head of the dinner table. Ma Mgillicuddy was just placing a finely roasted chicken down when he said, “Something going on in town. Must be a big deal.” Then he reached for spoonful of fried potatoes, but was cut down with a sharp slap to his wrist.

“You say grace first,” Ma replied in a firm but loving tone. She sat next to Pa, and he blessed the evening meal.

“Now what’s all the fuss about town?” she continued as Pa dug into the potatoes. Just then car lights appeared out in the drive. Ma looked at Pa gravely, “Expectin’ someone?”

Pa looked disappointed as he stuffed a big bite of chicken into his mouth, and rose to see who it was.

A shiny black foreign car honked its horn as Pa walked onto the porch. A slick middle aged man wearing a business suit got out.

“Hey old timer,” he began “Got any gas?”

“This ain’t no filling station, feller. You want to head back towards town…” Pa started to say, before being interrupted.

“I know it isn’t! But you gotta have some sort of fuel here don’t you? For your tractor or something? The man continued, walking towards the porch.

“I’m glad to help you out, but we don’t got much in that tank.” Pa pointed to the fuel tank that was situated under the farm light by the barn. “Are you empty?”

“I got a quarter of a tank, but I want to get the hell out of here.” The man said, reaching for his wallet. “How much?”

“Son, you could make it to town and back on a quarter of a tank, I don’t see the need for you to buy my fuel.” Pa replied.

“Jeesus old man, don’t you listen to the news! You can’t GO to town…it’s on a quarantine. Some sort of outbreak or something. Crazy reports about people biting and attacking each other. The military blocked off the interstate, I got out just in time.” The man said.

“What are you talking about, boy…you on the drugs or something?” Pa laughed a little while he said that.

“Come on gawd dammit! How much? Here take a hundred.” The man yelled opening his wallet and taking bills out.

“Calm down son, I ain’t selling you any gas, and I don’t like you taking the lords name in vain.” Pa said sternly.

“Screw you old man, I’m taking it whether you like it or not,” The man yelled harshly and started to head back the drivers seat.

BLAM! BLAM! Both Pa and the angry businessman were startled by the loud report of a shotgun being fired up into the air. Ma McGillycuddy ejected the spent shells, loaded two more and aimed it right at the businessman. “You don’t come out here with your threats mister!” She said, deadly serious. “Get in yer car and drive back down that lane, and I mean right now, or I’ll fill you full of lead!”

The man held his hands up and backed his way into the drivers seat. He pulled out and headed back down the road without a word..

“Shoot Ma!” Pa laughed “Ya ruined my fun, that was just getting’ interestin’.” Then he shot her a quick wink.

Ma shook her head solemnly and mumbled something about city slickers and said to Pa, “Get back in there before your supper gets cold.”

********************************************

No sooner did Pa return to his fried potatoes, chicken, and sourdough biscuits, then a creaking sound came from the porch. Both Ma and Pa, jumped and looked at the shotgun for just a second when they heard a booming familiar voice.

“Hey! Y’all doing allright in there? I thought I heard gunshots.” The door opened and in walked the tall strapping son of the Mcgillicuddy’s, Beau. “Ooowee” he continued, “just in time for some supper.” Ma rose to get her boy a table setting as Pa filled in Beau on what had happened.

Beau lived on a corner of the Mcgillicuddy’s property, about a half mile from the main house. He had set up a trailer, and a small garage. Now that he was a family man, after Rhonda had the baby, it was nice to have their own home, whether it was mobile or not.

“How come you ain’t at work,” Pa asked concerned.

“Dang Pa, I was fishing this afternoon, and they jest kept bitin’. What was I spose to do?” Both Pa and Beau nodded in agreement on this, between hearty forkfuls of chicken and green beans.

“Where is the missus and the rugrat?” Pa asked. “You didn’t leave ‘em down at your place while you’re stuffin your pie hole didja?

“Nah, she took the kid over to visit her mamma in Cass county.”

After a double helping of peach cobbler to each of her boys, Ma McGillycuddy finally spoke up, “I expect we oughta turn on the radio and find out what all the fuss was about.”

Pa clicked on the old set and sat back down, lighting up his favorite pipe. The reports came rolling in. There were gangs of unprovoked people, wandering around and attacking others. The National Guard quarantined off the city. No one in or out, and they are waiting for more troops to arrive.

Ma shot Pa a concerned, knowing look. “You know those city folk Ma,” He reassured her, patting the back of her hand, “If it ain’t some sort of riot one day, it’s the bird flu or some other crazy panic, it’ll settle down.”

Another creak on the porch caused them to jump. Pa was sure it was just Beau again, but they both realized at the same time that Beau was in the easy chair nodding off. Pa jumped to his feet and headed for the door. Ma yelled, which sent Beau up and out of the chair, fast enough to knock the lamp over.

Pa saw it was the same impatient businessman as before, standing in the dark at the door. “Now, I done told ya mister, No gas.”

The man silently shuffled closer, clawing at the screen door. Once he stepped into the light Pa could see the terrible gash across his forehead, and the blood dripping out. “Mister?” Pa asked, “Are ya hurt?” The man looked up slowly and replied.

“Braaaiinnsss”. It was a deep guttural voice. The mans eyes were completely dull, no light shone in them. He began to push through the screen door. Beau was there in a flash, but once he saw the man he froze.

“What in the tarnation?” He began. Before he could finish the thing ripped through the screen door, and was clawing towards Pa. Pa delivered a sock footed kick to its groin, which pushed it back into the door frame. Beau screamed like a girl, almost in complete panic, until he heard his mother’s commanding voice.

“Get down!” She yelled, and both Pa and Beau immediately ducked. The businessman was already shuffling back into the house again. Ma responded quickly and decisively, firing both barrels of the shotgun with a deafening roar.

He businessman’s head exploded like a melon, splaying all over Ma’s hanging geraniums.

“What in the Hell?” Beau stood, stunned.

“Dammit Pa.” Ma said dismayed. “It’s zombies! Again.”

********************************************

Pa and Beau busied themselves with removing what was left of the businessman’s body from the porch while Ma finished up the evening’s dishes. Beau had remained mostly silent since Ma had blasted its brains out, but finally he spoke up.

“What’d she mean by ‘zombies, again’? He was dragging the body out towards the burn barrel. Pa carried a shovel filled with what was left of the head. He remained silent.

“C’mon Pa, fess up, you ain’t no good at keeping quiet,” Beau prodded.

“Ah, you know yer Ma. She tends to overreact.” Pa pitched the remains into the barrel. “Drag ‘em over there.” He pointed

“Overreact? Pa, she just shot this fella’s head clean off. And she said ‘Zombies…AGAIN!”

Beau was getting a little agitated with his fathers reluctance to say anything. He was about to say more when he heard a snapping of twigs and a moaning sound coming from the small grove of trees that helped block the wind. He turned to see their old neighbor, Johanson, with his ever present ball cap, shuffling towards them. Ezekial Johanson was the soybean farmer from just over the hill and it shocked Beau to see him out here in the dark.

“What are you doing there Zeke?” Beau asked, but Pa moved into action. Pa thrust the handle of the shovel into Zeke’s midsection, causing him to double over slightly, and then, slick as snot, Pa flipped the handle around in his hands and swung full force at Zeke’s head with the blade of the shovel. The blow glanced off of Zeke’s shoulder and ripped off his ear. The momentum of the swing caused Pa to slip to the ground, and the shovel clanged away out of his reach.

Zeke hardly seemed phased by the blow and began to claw towards Pa, who was able to get turned into a sitting position rasing his hands up to shield the attack. Beau hadn’t been stationary and had scooped up the shovel and now swung it hard, into Zeke’s chest, knocking the old farmer back a few feet. After stumbling, Zeke turned his attention towards Beau, “Braaainnssss” he mumbled as Beau finally got a good look at his face. The farmer Beau had known all his life was now a gruesome evil thing that had the same dull look as the businessman had.

“Aim fer the head!” Pa shouted as he scrambled to safety, “Knock out his brains.”

Beau didn’t need to ask for clarification, and swung the shovel blade, two handed, into Old Zeke’s left temple. The sounds of bone crunching, and the wet slop of gore filled the air for a moment, then Zeke collapsed like a rag doll.

There was a moment of silence as Pa and Beau looked at one another. Then Beau said, “Over reactin’?”

“All right..all right,” Pa finally spoke. “We seen this sort of thing before, back in the sixties, just before you were born. Helluva mess that was.”

“What are you talkin’ about? Zombie’s ain’t real. This ain’t no drive-in movie story. How come I ain’t never heard ‘bout this?”

Pa opened his mouth to answer and suddenly Beau spoke again, “Snap!! I gotta check on Rhonda and the baby.” With that he dropped the shovel and ran back towards the house, to make a phone call.

Pa shook his head and muttered under his breath as he began to drag the bodies into the burn pile, “That’s just like that boy, make a big mess, and ‘spect me to clean er all up.”

********************************************

When Pa got back up to the house, clapping the dirt off his boots and pant legs, he found Ma quietly knitting under her lamp, listening to the dismal reports on the radio. Beau however, was pacing like a caged lion, stopping occasionally to dial Rhonda’s Mom’s phone number…only to slam the receiver down again. “All circuits are busy, my ass!” Beau finally said, disgusted.

“Pa, we gotta do somethin’. I can’t just sit here, I gotta drive over to Cass county to get her!” Beau was pleading for some direction.

Pa took a moment, stroking his chin as he always did when he had to think hard about something. Finally, he spoke. “Well, I reckon I can’t send you off alone. And I can’t leave your Ma here by herself. And once we collect Rhonda and the baby, we’ll want to high tail it back here….Aint no way you all will fit in the truck…I think we oughta get the RV out.”

“Now yer talking!” Beau slapped his knee and headed out for the back barn, where the RV was stored.

By the time Pa and Ma got out to the barn, Beau had gotten the tarps off Pa’s on- going project. The ‘RV’ was a converted 1972 GMC School bus, still in it’s traditional yellow color. The school’s name was blacked out on the side, but it still said ‘Community School District’ and had the number ‘4’ by the buses door. Beau immediately jumped into the dusty seat, and began cranking on the starter. Pa and Ma loaded a few provisions, a couple of shotguns and shells, Ma’s knitting, and a thermos of hot coffee. It was a little late for Ma to be drinking the stuff, but it seemed like it was shaping up to be a long night.

After the fourth or fifth crank, the engine turned and roared to life. Pa grabbed a few more items from the barn and threw them aboard, then whistled for the little rat terrier, Poxie, who scampered out of the bushes and jumped aboard followed quickly by Pa.

With a grind of the gears and an uneasy lurch the bus set off down the lane, towards the old dirt road, which led to the highway, and ultimately to Cass County and Rhonda and the baby.

The traditional bus seats had been removed, and even though the exterior of the bus hadn’t been changed, the interior had been given a completely new look. Behind the drivers seat, Ma had gotten herself comfortable in a small sofa, flicked on a small lamp and began to work on her knitting. Pa loaded the shotguns and took an inventory of some of the many cabinets and nooks throughout the bus.

A mile or so down the road, they passed the businessman’s car. It was still running, with the headlights pointing off across an empty field. The front end was smashed in where the man must have run into the bridge abutment. Beau swung out wide to avoid it and continued on the road.

Beau turned onto the hard pavement of the county highway and spoke up, “Now fess up, what do you know about these zombies?”

Beau glanced up at the oversized mirror aimed at the passengers, a left over from the school bus’ working days, and saw Ma shoot a knowing glance at Pa.

Finally Ma broke the silence, “Back in the 60’s, when we lived just on the other side of Lake Mitchika, there was an outbreak. Folks were doing crazy things, biting and trying to eat one another. We ended up with a small squad of National Guard fellers. Seems they knew that you could take ‘em down by smashing their brains in. They also knew a bit more, about why them people became zombies in the first place. The Army was doing some type of testing in a secret base they got near Four Mile Bridge.”

“Why ain’t I never heard of this before? How come the newspeople don’t talk about it?” Beau replied.

“Hell, boy,” Pa spoke up, “The Weekly Inquirer had all kinds of reports in it, plus the Guvment shut ‘em all up.”

“Pa, the Weekly Inquirer is fake news. They also have Bigfoot stories, and tell how the President is married to an Alien…” Beau added sarcastically.

Pa just shrugged his shoulders knowingly at Ma, as if to say ‘why bother?’

Coming just over the hill, Beau slowed the noisy bus down. “What now?” he asked, although he didn’t expect an answer.

Up ahead, the area known as Buck Creek, was almost completely dark. The town, which was no more that a spot on the road, (three houses, a roadside store, and a church) usually had several lights, but now there was only an orange flicker and an occasional blue flash.

Getting closer, the trio could see two cars blocking the highway. A blue impala was diagonal across the lanes of the highway, its front end crumpled and fire was coming out from under the smashed hood. The other was an older red pickup truck, its driver side was smashed in, and the impact must have veered the car into a utility pole on the side of the road. The pole was down, across the bed of the pickup, the transformer flashing a bright blue occasionally as the electricity arced out. The drivers were no where to be found.

“Roads blocked.” Beau said, all though it was obvious. “Should I go back to Sutter’s Corner and take the dirt road?”

“That way is flooded this time of year.” Pa said slowly. “Maybe we should see if there is anyone hurt here?”

All three shared a solemn glance, then Beau pulled the silver handle that opened the accordion style door. “Lets go.”

Ma and Pa, each with a shotgun pointing this way and that, piled out of the vehicle. Beau was close behind. Pa yelled out, “Anyone there?” and stood quietly, waiting for a reply. Thankfully, the only sound was the fire crackling and an the pop of the transformer.

“Don’t touch that truck” Beau said, “looks like it’s electrified.” He could see the trail of wires across the bed of the truck, on the ground and then back up again to the next pole. He peered in through the drivers window and could see no passengers. The blue sparks popped up again, making the highway look like a cheap disco with a bad strobe. “I think,” Beau continued “If we can get this pole out of the way, we could squeeze the bus through.”

“RV” corrected Pa, coming over to look. He continued “That’s too heavy to push, I got a chainsaw in the RV.”

As Beau and Ma guarded the area, Pa retrieved the oily chainsaw from the back cabinet of the bus. After a couple tugs on the starter, the motor growled to life and with a few revs of throttle Pa had it singing into the hard wood of the creosote soaked pole.

“Be careful not to touch that truck.” Beau reminded him with a loud shout, and Pa nodded in acknowledgement. Soon the base of the thick pole thudded hard onto the pavement and Pa was able to roll it towards the ditch, clearing a spot for the bus to get through, between the shoulder of the road, and the burning wreckage.

The top half of the pole, which was still attached to the transformer and wires, tilted deeper into the bed of the pickup, and really flashed brightly, like a double stroke of lightning.

That’s when Beau saw them, silhouetted in that disco strobe light for just a moment. At least ten ghastly faces with blood streaks and gaping maws, silently moving towards them from the darkness.

********************************************

Rhonda situated the baby on her hip and hit the redial on the cordless phone. The fast signal of ‘all circuits are busy’ blared in her ear, and she dropped the phone on the couch, and sat down hard next to it. “Dammit, what should I do?” She said aloud, to no one in particular.

Rhonda had come over to help her Momma with the canning, but she wanted to get going home now. Rhonda loved her Momma dearly, but could only listen at what a ‘no good, rotten, lazy man’ she had married for so long, before it got old. Momma had run out to get herself a pack of menthols before her evening stories came on, and Rhonda finished up the rest of the canning. The convenience store was just down the road from the trailer park, and it would only take a minute she had said.

After 30 minutes, Rhonda became concerned that Momma hadn’t returned yet, and she flicked on the TV to try and calm her nerves. That’s when she realized Momma’s stories probably wouldn’t be on tonight. The reports were horrendous. One reporter got attacked on camera, live. It only lasted a brief second before they cut back to the studio folks, but even they looked horrified and couldn’t speak for several moments.

Another 15 minutes passed by, each minute excruciatingly longer that the last. The reporters were asking the public to stay calm and in their homes, to have no contact with the infected. The throaty roar of Momma’s El Camino announced her much wanted return. Rhonda, relieved, stood up and went to the screen door, “What took you so long, Momma?” she asked.

Momma stumbled out of the car door, and walked oddly towards the stairs. She had parked diagonally in the small gravel drive, blocking Rhonda’s car in.

“Momma….you all right?” Rhonda asked as Momma passed by her, heading straight to the bathroom. Rhonda could smell the stink of whiskey and stale smoke as she fumbled by. “Did you stop down at the Dew Drop Inn?” Rhonda asked, accusingly. The Dew Drop Inn was Mommas favorite drinking spot, and it explained why a two minute trip had turned into forty five.

“Dammit Momma, you know I want to get home! I got things to do before Beau gets back from work. And now with all these crazies running around, I’m not sure If I should drive back or not.”

Rhonda pounded on the outside of the bathroom door. “Momma, you listening? Are you drunk in there?”

There was no reply.

“Momma! You damn lush, you can at least move your car so I can get going!” She cried.

Finally, a weak reply came out. The sound of retching. It wasn’t like Momma- she could handle her liquor better than most sailors. Rhonda pounded again. “Momma, what’s goin’ on?”

Momma finally answered, but her voice was weak and far away. “I ain’t been drinking. I saw that cheatin’ bastard Earl’s car down at the Dew Drop and I just wanted to give him a piece of my mind. That crazy sonofabitch bit me!” Then she faded away with the sound of more vomiting.

Rhonda stopped pounding on the door, and took a few steps back towards the living room.

“Again, let us emphasize” said the news anchor on the TV, “Make no attempts of contact with the infected. Stay in your homes, with the windows and doors locked.”

Rhonda’s eyes grew wide with realization, as she snatched up the baby and headed out of the trailer’s door. “Oh Momma,” she said sadly as she walked towards the El Camino. The baby started wailing, loudly, feeling the stress of his mother’s tears. Rhonda cursed aloud when she noticed the keys were not in the El Camino’s ignition.

She put left hand up over her eyes, and sighed in frustration. She rocked the baby with her right arm and gently sang “hush now baby.” It was just then she heard low moaning, and the sound of boots scraping across the gravel.

********************************************

Rhonda’s head jerked up suddenly at the sound of the gravel. It was Mr. Juhl, from a few trailers down, but something wasn’t right. Blood was smeared all over his lower jaw, and down the front of his shirt, and his eyes didn’t blink. In fact, he was staring at Rhonda the entire time, with that slow, shuffling gait, coming ever closer.

Rhonda at first tried to speak to him, but she could tell it would be of no use. She stumbled back towards the trailer steps, still trying to hush the baby, who was wailing louder than ever. She reached down and grabbed a small baseball bat that was by the steps, and held it in one hand, menacingly. “Get away from me! Don’t you come any closer” She yelled.

Rhonda could see movement from her left as well. Two more of them, with that low moan, were approaching, closing in on her. Rhonda backed up the stairs, let herself in, and locked the door. The zombies pounded on the door after her, but couldn’t figure out how to use the door handles. The babies cries grew even louder, as she set him down on the floor and pushed a small end table against the door. Glancing outside, she could see a small group had gathered, apparently enticed by the moaning.

Rhonda could hear retching noises still coming from the bathroom, and could feel the trailer slowly start to rock back and forth on its cinderblock foundation and the group of zombies, and their dead weight pressed against it.

“Oh, Beau...” she cried, sitting on the couch, and beginning to sob….”where the blazes are you?”

***

“Pa!” Beau roared over the sound of the chainsaw. “We got a problem!”

“I see ‘em.” Pa answered, moving closer to Ma. They Mcgillicuttys were twenty yards or so away from the bus door, but a few of the silent creatures had already moved into that path.

‘Here Pa, you take the gun.” Ma whispered, as if trying to keep it secret. He handed her the still running chainsaw, and took the double barrel. A creature, stumbled up from behind the truck and reached for them, Pa was pushed forward, but Ma thrust the chainsaw up into it’s midsection. Gore and entrails plied out, and the creature was pushed backwards, into the electrified truck. Blue light flared as the zombie was fried like a June bug in a bug zapper. Smoke came out of it’s ears, as it dropped to the ground, dead, now forever. Another zombie, from the far side of the truck, tried to climb over the electrified hood and met the same fate. It smoked, caught in that terrible spasm, with the strobe light emphasizing every jerk of movement, before falling to the ground, charred beyond recognition.

The rat terrier Poxie, stood close to Beau, growling meanacingly, but not moving far from Beau’s leg. Beau casually took aim and blasted one of the zombies, dissolving the head in a wet sounding slurp. Pa was a bit more active, working as rear guard, with Ma in the middle, making sure they were protected while making it back towards the relative safety of the RV/bus. Ma revved the chainsaw again, but didn’t need to use it. Blood still flew in a spraying pattern from the blade, splattering her hair and face.

After a hard kick and another quick shot to the head, Beau cleared the path of the blocking zombies. A few more were moving towards them, from the edges of the darkness. Often, one would touch the downed wire or the electrified truck and the sparks would illuminate the area again. Beau stepped aside to let Ma climb in first to the open bus door. Ma climbed aboard, killing the chainsaw and it’s infernal racket, and dropping it to the floorboards. Beau and Pa quickly followed, with Pa pulling the accordion style door shut by yanking the lever. Several zombies slapped hard onto the door in pursuit, but the glass and steel held, keeping them out.

Ma was shaking and breathing hard, and was just about to ask if anyone wanted coffee when something loomed behind her. It was silent in the semi-gloom, but the rustle of it’s clothes gave it away. Ma was close enough to smell its fetid breath and the stink of its rot, and as it rose over her she stood immobilized by shock.

As if in slow motion, everything became crystal clear to Ma. She could hear Pa cranking the key to start the engine, Poxie’s deep guttural growl, the slapping of fleshy palms against the buses door. Her attacker was illuminated by the flashing sparks, further intensifying the slow motion sensation. She could see the gloss of black blood across it’s face, and it’s milky dead eyes as it opened it’s mouth to clamp onto her. Suddenly, she felt Beau there, and could feel him grabbing at her crocheting kit, still strapped to her back. Time blurred as everything became real speed again, the zombies gaping maw fell away, now pierced through with a light purple knitting needle. Beau had thrust the oversized knitting needle under it’s chin, with enough force to pierce the hard palette and destroy the fragile brain.

Black goop and ichor slid over Beau’s hand, as he forced the creature to the back of the bus. There, he unceremoniously dumped it’s still twitching corpse out of the emergency exit door. By the time he slammed the door shut the bus was lurching forward, onto the road again, crushing whatever hapless zombie might have been in it’s path.

“Whew-ee,” Beau said, wiping his hand off on one of the old oil rags he found in a cupboard. Taking a seat next to Ma, as the bus continue to roll down the highway. The sign read, “Cass County 15 miles”.

Ma reached for the thermos of hot coffee, but then hesitated. She thrust her hand into her knitting kit and produced a small silver flask, which she opened and promptly threw back a healthy shot.

She shivered as the hard liquor burned a bit, then casually asked “You boys care for a nip?”

[Duende]

Aww Jim! You gotta finish this! Now, I'm going to keep wondering what happened to Rhonda and the baby!

Great story!

[Illustrange]

I never pander ! (tough I dont know what it means.)

that other site is awfully quiet by the way (as is its owner.)

doesnt help that 2 of the mods waste all their online time here

but what I said once still stands, if I ever gonna get my try at comic books (wich I really should, but time isnt on my side... >_< ) I wanna have a swing with the story (or the other )

[Nathan Caroland]

Good stuff Jim, you should finish this one up! I would say though, get rid of the 'Oh Snap!' as that is a good bit more urban than rural and with the way that their talking I doubt Beau is an Eminem type fella.

[Lordfishbane]

You gotta finnish it, good ol' zombie hacking fun.

[callumrice]

Cracking but agree with the rest, finish, finish, finish!

[supervike]

Hey! Thanks folks...I actually didn't think anyone was going to read it.

It is a perfect time of year to finish it though....

[supervike]

I maybe slow but I usually get there in the end!

Here is the next installment, and possibly the end of the Hillbilly Zombie Killers! I really had fun writing this. And just to reiterate, its' corny on purpose. I was really striving to get some tongue in cheek type humor here.

As far as Rhonda could tell, Momma had gone quiet in the bathroom. She feared what that meant. Thankfully, the relentless pounding on the front door, the incessant moaning and the swaying of the trailer seemed to be enough stimulation to put the baby to sleep. So, at least his cries weren’t adding to the chaos.

Rhonda held little Beau Jr. close to her bosom and hummed in hushed tones between her occasional sobbing. She was very close to a complete breakdown. Her helplessness coupled with the horror of what was happening was too much. Rhonda began to drift away into a shell of nothingness, deciding whether or not to just give up, when a clawing noise nearby shook her back to reality.

The noise was coming from the floor, not four feet from where Rhonda was sitting. The noise grew, and then Rhonda realized what it was. Something was ripping the floorboards away, trying to get in. She stood, and holding the baby in one arm, inspected the area of the noise. Just then, a small hole appeared followed by a discolored human hand, clawing and tearing at the floor. It was then that Rhonda realized she couldn’t sit and wait for these bastards to get to her or the baby. She’d need to take action.

With her free hand, and in an amazing display of pent up rage, Rhonda pulled the heavy 30 inch television off of its stand and let it topple onto the opening on the floor. The zombie had just made the hole big enough to pop its head through, and the solid black Toshiba crashed to the floor, crushing the zombie’s skull and spraying brain matter and blood across the rug.

The action helped Rhonda decide what to do. She would get away from here, and hope Beau will find her. She grabbed the little baseball bat. It was the first gift Beau Sr. had bought for his namesake. Seeing how junior wouldn’t use it for a while, Rhonda decided it would be better served now.

She threw open the door, and it was the former Mr. Juhl who came stumbling in. Rhonda dipped back, allowing him to come closer, and then surged forward with all the power and strength she could muster. The bat connected right across the upper lip, sending teeth flying, and forcing the nose cartilage into the brain pain. Mr. Juhl collapsed immediately, dead once more, hopefully forever.

Moving out onto the porch, Rhonda realized that most of the zombies had gone under the mobile home, searching for a way up through the floorboards. There were still one or two pounding on the siding, and she let a backhand swing fly to catch the closest in the temple. With a resounding crack, the bat, and the skull fractured. Rhonda was left with only a sharpened shard of wood, the zombie was left motionless on the ground.

Rhonda turned slightly towards the car, ducking the grasp of another slow moving zombie. She pivoted and drove what remained of the bat deep into its neck, puncturing the jugular as it shoved through. The zombie stumbled but ignored the devastating wound. It turned, raising it’s arms to grasp her. Rhonda cowered, but just then the scene flared as headlights flooded over her. It was enough of a momentary distraction for Rhonda to kick out, knocking the zombie over and she scrambled to the road into the path of the oncoming headlights.

She stood in the glare of the headlights, blinded by the intense light, she tensed, awaiting what seemed her final fate.

The sound of gravel crunching filled the air, as the RV/bus slid to a halt, and then she could hear Beau yelling her name. Beau bounded off the bus, shotgun blazing as he knocked down two more zombies. He threw his arm around Rhonda and escorted her and his little one back to the safety of the bus.

Ma pulled Rhonda and the baby aboard and help her sit in one of the up front seats. “Cmon darling, we got ya now, it’s gonna be alright.”

Beau fired off two more shots and then boarded himself. “Hit it, Pa!” Pa did what he was told, and slammed his foot on the gas.

“Wait!” Yelled Rhonda, finally overcoming her shock. Pa jammed the brake, sending Beau slamming into the dashboard. “What is it dammit? We’re overrun here!!”

“It’s Momma, Beau! She’s still inside, locked in the bathroom…I think she’s one of those things”. Rhonda stated, pleadingly.

“Let’s just leave her!” Beau stated, matter of factly. Rhonda’s Momma had never been on his favorite people list. And the feeling was more than mutual.

“You listen here, Beau Elvis McGillicuddy Sr.!” Rhonda never used his whole name, unless it was very important, or she was very angry. “I ain’t leaving my Momma in there like that. Even if she’s one of those…those things.”

Pa spoke up. “Listen dear. If’n she is one of those zombies. She can’t be fixed. Believe me, I’ve seen this before. Thar ain’t no hope.”

Rhonda choked back a sob. “I see.” She had no reason to doubt Pa. He’d always been a straight shooter with her, and she could tell by the glint in his eye that he spoke from experience. “Ok,” she resolved, “Beau, then you need to go in there and…”

“Put her out of her misery.” Beau finished grimly. “I know. Yer right, we can’t leave her like that.” Beau pulled open the door. Pa followed closely behind, grabbing a tire iron.

“You shut that door up tight, and if we aint back in three minutes, you hightail it to Benson Military Base.” He looked straight at Ma, staring hard at her. “You get that?”

Ma sighed heavily, and then gave a resigning nod. She waited for her boys to clear the doorway, and then she pulled it shut and said a little prayer.

Beau and Pa were able to make the doorway of the trailer without incident. The zombies that were remaining had vanished from sight. A few stood slapping and clawing on the rear of the bus, unable to figure out how to gain entrance. Pa noticed a pair of legs scrambling underneath the skirting of the trailer, and motioned Beau to them. Beau just shook his head and placed a finger up to his lips as if to say ‘shh’.

Once through the trailer door, Beau immediately spotted a zombie wandering aimlessly in the living room. The zombie turned upon hearing them enter and stumbled towards them, moaning with that hideous sound.

Beau flipped the shotgun up, waited for it to come close and jabbed it hard with the butt of the rifle. It collapsed into a heap and Pa whacked it a few times with the tire iron for good measure. It didn’t move. Pa nodded towards the other figure, the former Mr. Juhl, and both stared at it for a moment. Since there was no movement, they went on.

Beau moved silently down the hallway towards the bathroom. He constantly moved his head around, looking for other creatures. There were none. He and Pa stood in front of the bathroom door, leaning in to listen for activity. Beau could hear a faint swizzling sound, but nothing more. He tried the handle, but the door was locked tight. With a shrug of his shoulder, he reared back and kicked the door in, leveling his shotgun at whatever was inside.

Momma was sitting on the toilet and jerked her head up at the intrusion. “Whatcha lookin’at ya damn pervert” she slurred. Beau’s eyes widened and he pulled the trigger by reflex, just as Pa hit the gun up with his tire iron. The buckshot sailed high, ripping a whole through the shower curtain, and damaging the wall. Momma was startled and stood up, her underwear dangling around her ankles. “You damned fool,” she spat out, barely audible through the ringing in everyone’s ears. “You ruined my shower curtain!”

Pa and Beau shared a glance, and then each grabbed her arms and started pulling her out of the bathroom. “Hey…doan forget my bottle!” She slurred, reaching for an almost empty fifth of whiskey. Beau and Pa drug her down the hall, and towards the door.

“What in the hell did you do to my TV!” She yelled, head bobbing and obviously drunk out of her gourd. Beau could see a purplish bruise of a bite mark on her neck.

The two drug her unceremoniously down the stairs and began to make the way back to the RV/bus. “Hey, careful with the merchandise” She moaned. “If yer gonna cop a feel, I should be charging you.” She continued. The underwear has freed itself from one ankle, but still held on firmly to the other.

A zombie straggled towards Beau, and he casually blew its head off with the shotgun, barely aiming. Another appeared from behind the bus, and Pa destroyed it with a well placed and powerful backhand stroke of the tire iron.

Beau shoved Momma up the stairs of the bus, and sat her down hard next to Rhonda. Poxie growled deeply from a few seats back.

Rhonda was wordless for just a moment, and then sobbed in relief. “Oh Momma!, you’re alive!” She threw an arm around her and hugged her tightly, despite the reek of liquor and vomit.

“No thanks to yer idiot boyfriend.” Momma retorted, “He helped himself to a peep show while I was peeing!”

“Momma!” Rhonda scolded, “You know he’s my husband, so knock it off! Besides, you told me you weren’t drunk…and that Earl had bitten you!”

“Oh that,” Momma said, giggling and hiccupping at the same time. “Earl bites everybody when he’s drinkin’ vodka.”

“And your Momma is a damn liar! She’s drunk as a skunk!” Beau retorted, as the bus started to lurch forward, back on its way.

“I ain’t lying about choo being a pervert…ya pervert” she replied still slurring heavily, she shook off the dangling underwear from her ankle, and promptly passed out on Rhonda’s shoulder.

Beau sat and sighed heavily. Zombies, he could handle, a drunken Mother-in-law was truly terrifying. This night just went from bad to worse.

Edited July 7, 2008 by supervike

[Nathan Caroland]

Hah, I wouldn't end it there amigo, too good to let go of.

[supervike]

Thanks FF! It sure is fun to write. If just one person gets a kick out of it, I'm pleased as punch...(even if that one person is just me!!)

[Hinton]

Very cool story, Vike. I enjoyed it and agree that you should continue it.

[splatt]

lol nice story, i did a zombie one ages ago and it was great fun though im a bad writer

[supervike]

Thanks Splatt!

I'm a bad writer too, but it didn't stop me!!!

[splatt]

mines got a ton of swearing in it lol and a sex shop!

[absolute_d]

Every really good Zombie story has a sex shop in it!

Oz

[Nathan Caroland]

Post it up if you feel up to it, we're fairly open about that as long as its not in bad taste, then folks tend to self police about here (its so nice that I don't have to do that anymore!).

Killing a zombie with a sex toy though ... (ponders ...)

[splatt]

no worries i cant get onto my myspace where its posted from work but i'll do it tonight i'll edit the swearing too.