Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (19 page)

Mikki came back to find John sitting in a chair, with Leshawn wrapping a cloth around his bleeding arm. Floyd had taken the second bullet in the chest, but once again, the Kevlar jacket had protected him. Stan lay on the ground, half his head blown off.

“Oh, no!” Mikki said sadly.

John was crying with long, loud sobs. All pretense of authority and control was gone. He had done the right thing, and the right thing had gotten his only brother killed. How was he going to explain this to Marjorie? He kept sobbing over and over again, “My brother! My brother!” Everyone stood around, not knowing what to say or do.

“Pick up the body and wrap it in a blanket,” Floyd instructed, taking control of the situation. We’ll bring him back with us and give him a hero’s funeral. He deserves it.”

Mikki unzipped her jacket and pulled out one of the holy cards she carried. She tucked it into the pocket of Stan’s shirt as the men brought over a blanket from the dormitory. They laid the blanket on the ground, put Stan on top of it, and wrapped him up, nice and neat. Leshawn handed Mikki the borrowed Mini Uzi, slung the body over his right shoulder, and started heading back to camp. Pedro handed his Uzi to Mikki and followed Leshawn, stopping by to pick up the weapons they had left at Floyd’s truck.

Mikki hung back and said nothing. This was no time for
I told you so
.

“Come on, John. Time to man up,” Floyd said, eventually. “These people still need you. You gotta hold it together. You gotta hold
them
together.”

John nodded silently, wiped away his tears, and laid a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. Floyd helped him to his feet. “Your camp is safe,” Floyd said. “You can take over this site and all its weapons and use them to protect the campground. When it comes time to head to New California Haven, you’ll have vehicles and an arsenal to make the trip. Stan didn’t die for nothing.”

“Thanks, Floyd,” John said at last. “You’re a good man.”

There was quite a stir when they made it back to the camp. At first there was excitement, but that disappeared pretty quickly when they realized Leshawn was carrying a body over his shoulder. He gently laid it down on one of the benches by the campfire. As John and Floyd and Mikki brought up the rear, Marjorie came out of one of the cabins, asking, “Where’s Stan? Where’s my Stanley?”

Neither Leshawn nor Pedro would look at her, let alone answer her. They didn’t even look at the body. When John came into the camp holding Stan’s sniper rifle, Marjorie understood immediately whose body was wrapped in the blanket. She broke down into tears and fled back into her cabin. Two other ladies ran in after her to comfort her as best they could.

“Stan died protecting us all,” John announced, his voice trembling with emotion. Every eyeball was glued to him, and everyone knew that he loved Stan more than anyone (other than Marjorie). “We will bury him at dawn. The birth of a new day that Stan helped to give us. We scored a great victory tonight. We won’t ever have to worry about the raiders ever again.”

If it hadn’t been for Stan’s death, that last line would have been greeted with cheers and applause. As it was, everyone just looked at the blanket-covered body. The community was small, and every life was precious. They had all lost someone since the disease hit, but Stan was especially liked. Next to John, he was also the most respected man in the little group. He would be mourned and he would be missed.

Mr. Sourpuss stayed on the bench next to the body, keeping watch all night. His eyes, however, were glued to Floyd and Mikki, accusing them silently. He crossed his arms and stretched out his legs and prepared for a long, lonely vigil. His wife and bratty daughter each gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into their cabin.

John, Floyd and Leshawn commiserated for a bit, making plans for the next day as Mikki listened in from afar. Ordinarily, she would have jumped in with suggestions, but she still felt awkward about Stan’s death. Everyone in the assault party had heard what she said and everyone knew she was right, but even hardened Mikki was not so insensitive that she would push the issue. Not at the moment, anyway. But if it ever happened again, she would blow the jackass away and let people bitch at her afterwards—if they dared. She blamed herself for not shooting that Gollum bastard nearly as much as John blamed himself for preventing her.

Soon, Floyd and Mikki headed into their tiny cabin. There wasn’t much room, but it was clean and cozy. One double bed in the center of the room with a small TV on top of a wardrobe. Of course, there had been no TV signal in forever. Still, everything was free of dust. The bed sheets smelled freshly laundered, while the sink and tub and toilet in the small adjoining bathroom were sparkling. Mikki immediately plugged her iPhone into an outlet to charge.

A dim bulb in the bathroom gave enough light to see and maneuver around the room. Although the windows of the cabin were all blacked out to avoid attracting anything outside, it was like the two were on vacation together, years before the world fell apart. They could almost pretend life was back to normal.

Mikki took off her jacket. “Helluva day, eh, Floyd?”

“Helluva day, Mikki. You can have the bed. I’ll curl up in the chair.”

“Floyd,” she said, moving to him and taking his hands in hers. “You know these people think we’re married.”

“Yeah,” Floyd answered, not daring to get his hopes up.

“Well…don’t you think we should keep up appearances? We ain’t gonna get many chances like this, ya know.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Only one thing…”

“Yeah, Mikki?”

“Can we take a bath together first? We already had a shower before.”

She was grinning from ear to ear. Floyd put his arms around her and pulled her to him, holding her tightly. As he tenderly kissed the top of her blonde head, Mikki melted into his arms.

In the morning, Mikki could barely express her feelings, even to herself. Last night had been amazing! As passionate and surprising and new and wonderful as the shower incident had been, last night was sweet and loving and perfect in a new and different way. Oh, the passion was definitely still there between them, but while the shower incident was fast and hurried, last night was slow and deliberate and affectionate.

Floyd took his time teaching her everything she wanted to know about pleasing a man. He also showed her ways a woman could be pleased that she had never dreamed of. Sex wasn’t scary or dirty to her anymore. It was loving and wonderful! She always made a big show to all the world that she wasn’t no little girl no more, but it wasn’t until last night that she truly felt like a
woman
. A woman who had a man who obviously cared about her. She liked that!

She still couldn’t call it love, and neither Floyd nor her dared to explore their blossoming relationship with words. Neither one knew what words to say, anyway, and both were too afraid of saying something stupid that might ruin it. But they were together, and at the moment, that seemed to be all that mattered.

They were something more than just warrior partners now. Neither one understood it, but both felt it. Both were open to seeing where it might go next, yet each was aware that last night was a very special moment that might never come again.

Neither wanted to overanalyze it. Both were still afraid to hear the answers to so many unanswered questions. So, they simply lay there in the early morning as the sun streamed in through the window, savoring the moment. Mikki lay with her head on Floyd’s right shoulder, tucked tightly between Floyd’s strong arms.

She looked over at the scar on the left side of his chest and traced a finger over it. It tickled Floyd, and woke him up. He looked into her eyes briefly, then gently kissed her forehead. Mikki melted again.

Sounds of movement outside the cabin let them know that their precious moment was over. The whole camp was stirring. Time to get up. Time for Stan’s funeral.

They dressed in their pants, T-shirts and jackets, but left their helmets and weapons in the cabin. They knew the place was well guarded and the cabin was only a few feet away, if they needed anything. It didn’t seem right to go to a funeral with hand grenades, even if they were sending Stan off with a bang.

Everyone gathered around one of the benches in the center of the campground. Stan’s body was now wrapped in a beautiful handmade quilt instead of the dirty, old, shrapnel-ridden blanket. They would have liked to have his face exposed, but since half of his skull was gone, the blanket had been folded over his head, instead. He was lying in a nice, rectangular wooden casket Pedro had spent all night working on. The lid was on the next bench over.

When everyone was assembled, John took off his hat, placed it over his heart, and began the eulogy. Marjorie was dressed in black with a veil over her head, but she stood tall, strong and proud, even as silent tears dripped down her cheeks. Unlike several of the other women, there was no baby or child at her side, clinging to her. Apparently, she had just lost everything she had left in the world.

“Stan Martin was a loyal friend, a loving husband, and a wonderful brother. We all loved him. We all relied on him. He knew the risks, and he took them to protect us all. He died so that we all might live, free from fear, free from danger. He will be missed, he will be honored, and he will always be loved. May God have mercy on his soul, and bring him to a much happier place. Amen.”

Starting with Marjorie, everyone filed by the casket, one by one. Each paused for a moment of silent thought or prayer. Marjorie laid a hand on Stan’s blanketed chest and choked back more tears. John motioned to Floyd and Mikki, who took their turns at Stan’s side as well. It seemed they had been finally adopted into the family by a baptism of blood and war. John came last, bowed his head, then put his hat back on. He motioned to Pedro, who put on the lid on the casket and began nailing it shut. Each nail in the coffin was driven straight into the hearts of all who looked on, especially Marjorie and John.

A delegation of four men from the campsite took their places around the casket, grabbed the rope handles, and carried it over to the far side of camp. They set it down over a pair of ropes and took their positions, each one grabbing an end of one of the ropes to lower the casket down into a freshly dug grave. Leshawn, John and Mr. Sourpuss then silently shoveled a small mound of dirt back into the hole until the coffin was covered. At the head of the grave, Pedro had had carved a beautiful cross that read, “Stanley Martin. Devoted Husband. Beloved Friend. Hero.”

“Heading out?” John asked, as Floyd and Mikki emerged from their cabin fully loaded with all their weapons. After sewing up John’s arm with a nice job of suturing, Marjorie had been hanging around him constantly, like a mother hen guarding her last chick.

“Yeah, we’re gonna take a crack at the Wilkerson place, “Floyd explained. “If we can get your radio fixed, maybe we can find out exactly where this New California Haven is.”

“And if it ain’t there anymore for some reason,” Mikki added, “better to know that now and save us a wasted trip.”

It had taken several days, but Floyd managed to patch up Freedom pretty well. He even made some improvements. He had filled the radiator with water and managed to drive into the raider camp before it all drained or steamed out. He parked by the ammo shed next to the workshop area where he could weld the hole shut and make other repairs.

With Leshawn and Bob’s help, he took the plow from the wrecked behemoth and welded it securely to the front of his grill. Bob had restored power to the camp, so Floyd was able to use all the power tools. While the other men took stock of the vehicles and road tested them on the highway, Floyd added metal plates to the walls inside the truck bed. No more worries about a stray bullet blowing up the gasoline cans.

He also took the opportunity to tune up the engine, clean the carburetor, replace the belts and hoses, and perform whatever other general maintenance he could. At Mikki’s request, he mounted the 50-cal machine gun from one of the buggies to the top of Freedom’s cab, just above the light bar. He also built a sturdier dashboard rack for their inside weapon storage.

Bob had taken the voice-activated radio headsets from the Groverstown power plant and mounted them inside the motocross helmets, allowing Floyd and Mikki to communicate easier. Before, they always sounded a bit muffled through the helmets, even when yelling at each other. This was much better!

Of course, they still had to plug the wire into the handsets and a radio charge only lasted for about eight hours of talk time, so they would leave the radios turned off unless they were heading into battle. Floyd rigged their bandoliers to hold the radios on their backs, out of the way of everything else.

Mikki sat inside the ammo shed near Floyd as he worked. She kept sticking her hand into the bag with the cat, letting it chew on her finger with its gummy, toothless mouth. She was careful not to let anyone else see the undead kitten. They wouldn’t understand. Poor thing had taken a bullet when one of the raiders shot into the truck cab. It now had a nice quarter-sized hole running clean through its midsection.

Floyd knew what Mikki was doing, and did his best to ignore it. Mikki had traded Hello Kitty for Undead Kitty and Floyd didn’t know which was worse. Probably, Undead Kitty, but only by a hair. Hello Kitty was a weird little cat, too. No mouth. What was up with that?

Mikki finished reloading their ammo clips with the proper rounds so they would be ready for the next adventure. The ammo shed had several boxes of shotgun shells that fit the drum mags for Bonnie and Clyde, so they grabbed those for themselves. They grabbed a case of 9mm parabellum rounds, as well, to refill the Mini Uzi mags they had spent. Spoils of war, and they had earned it.

Mikki was both disappointed and grateful that the raiders had no grenades. On the one hand, she would have loved to stock up, as her supply was running low. On the other hand, the raiders would have certainly used them against her in the last battle. She preferred to be the one throwing the grenades, not dodging them.

“I have a little present for you,” Floyd said to John, before they left. He handed the ranger one of the Mini Uzis and several clips loaded with the 9mm rounds. As much as he liked the ranger, Floyd wasn’t about to part with any of the remaining Zeke rounds. “With what we found in the raider camp, you got enough firepower now for a small army.”

“That’s basically what we have. Small, but an army. Thanks.”

“We should be back in a few days. Try not to let anyone shoot up my truck while we’re gone, ok?”

John smiled. “I’ll do my best.” He watched sadly as the couple headed out of the camp and into the woods. He had tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen. They were pretty cocky, and maybe rightly so, but he doubted he would ever see them again. No one ever came out of these woods alive.

“Well, here we go again, Floyd.”

“Here we go again, Mikki.”

The two left early in the morning, trekking as quietly as possible through the thicket of trees. Floyd had loved camping as a kid, but now he hated the forest. When he was a kid, the forest wasn’t full of undead things jumping out at you to try and eat your brain. Or, bite your neck.

They stumbled upon several of the undead bunny groups John had mentioned before. Disturbing little buggers. Something really wrong about a cute little bunny baring its teeth and hopping along to try and bite you. The two didn’t bother wasting any ammo on them. The rabbit teeth couldn’t make a dent in their boots, so Floyd and Mikki just drop-kicked them or stomped on them, whichever was more convenient at the moment. Mikki played mumblety-peg with some of them, trying to skewer the little bastards. Surprisingly, she wasn’t very good at knife throwing. Not at hopping bunnies, anyway. She vowed that she would practice that.

A pack of wolves with white goopy eyes also tried attacking them, but Bonnie and Clyde made quick, messy work of them. One nice thing about zombie animals is that they attacked based on instinct. They no longer understood the concept of stealth. Floyd and Mikki heard the undead raspy howl of the wolves and the sounds they made traveling through the overgrowth of underbrush as they approached.

There were eight of them in all. They weren’t deterred at all when Mikki sent the leader flying backwards, headless, with a blast from Bonnie. Floyd took out two more in pretty quick order, but two more jumped at them simultaneously.  Floyd and Mikki both ducked as they flew overhead and used the opportunity to take out two more that were approaching. Then they turned and fired at the two who had played leapfrog as they came back. The last one latched on to Floyd’s arm but couldn’t get through the jacket. Mikki pulled her machete and sliced its head off, the teeth still chomping on Floyd’s arm.

“You outta keep that, Floyd. Makes for a nice decoration.”

“Yeah, right. Hang it on our Christmas tree.” He pried the jaws loose with his gloved hands and drop-kicked the head into a far-away tree. “Let’s just hope those wolf howls didn’t attract anything else our way.”

“Like what?”

“Like…that!”

“Holy shit!”

The two ran like hell as a deafening roar filled the air. Neither Floyd nor Mikki had ever seen a grizzly bear that big, let alone a huge, nasty, undead grizzly bear. Despite its enormous size, the thing moved at amazing speed. It reared up on its hind legs at the top of a nearby hill, let out a roar, and then the chase was on! It would be on them in moments. Both knew instinctively that even Bonnie and Clyde would be no match for the bear and it was moving too fast for a grenade.

“Climb a tree! Bears can’t climb!” Mikki yelled, scrambling up the sturdiest tree she could find nearby.

“That’s a myth! Bears
can
climb trees!” Floyd shouted.

“Not undead ones! Creepers can’t climb!”

Without a better idea, Floyd jumped up, grabbed the nearest limb, and started climbing like his life depended on it. In fact, it did.

The enormous creature slammed into the tree, shaking it violently as Floyd and Mikki held on tight and climbed even higher.

“You see?” Mikki yelled. “Can’t climb.”

The bear let out another roar and jumped up, grabbing onto the tree trunk. It swung a massive paw and knocked off several of the lower branches, but it couldn’t reach its prey. Floyd and Mikki got all too good a look at the undead thing. Half its left snout was gone, as was its right ear. The lower third of its body was in shreds and you could see the bones of its rib cage on the left side. It seemed that Floyd and Mikki weren’t the first humans to encounter this bear, but although others had left their mark on the beast, they probably hadn’t lived to tell the tale.

“Damn, Floyd! That is one grisly bear!” Mikki joked. She pulled out a grenade but Floyd stopped her.

“Wait! Don’t use that thing unless you can shove it down its throat! All you’re gonna do is piss it off!”

“I don’t think it can get any more pissed off. What’s
your
brilliant idea?”

“I don’t have one! I’m working on it!”

Fixated on the two humans above it, the loathsome creature jumped up again from where it was. It grabbed on again, moving higher.

“Shit! I thought you said creepers can’t climb!” Floyd screamed as he reached up for a higher branch.

“That’s what my book said! And technically it’s not climbing. It’s just kind of…jumping and hanging on.”

“Whatever you call it, it sure as hell looks like climbing to me! And we’re running out of tree!”

“I told you we shoulda brought one of the Uzis with us! But no! You said we wouldn’t need ‘em”

“Like I knew we’d run into a goddam undead grizzly bear! Wrong kind of ammo for this bastard anyway.”

“Oh, and what is the right kind of ammo, Mr. Man, sir?”

“Slugs!” Floyd asserted confidently as he switched his drum mag for a box mag of slugs. “Take this, Gentle Ben!”

Floyd shot a round between the bear’s eyes and it bounced off. The animal shook its head, dazed for only a second, then let out a tremendous roar. It was not pleased.

“What the hell?”

“He don’t look so gentle to me, Floyd.”

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Don’t steal my line!”

The bear opened its mouth to roar again and Mikki fired a couple of shot shells down its throat. Undead flesh went flying, but that didn’t slow the creature down. Floyd shot another slug straight into the top of the bear’s skull. They heard a loud crack, but the bear kept coming.

“Goddammit!” Floyd screamed, trying to line up another shot as the abomination kept swinging its arms and moving around. It managed to pull itself up even closer. “Just die, you damn Cement Head!” He fired of three more slugs into the creature’s skull. It was dazed for a bit, then opened its mouth wide to let out another horrible undead roar.

This time, Mikki was close enough that she couldn’t miss. She was only inches away as she pulled the pin from a grenade and threw it straight down, slamming it into the monster’s throat.

“Fire in the hole!” she yelled as she swung around to the back of the tree and hung on for dear life. Floyd was moving even higher up the tree when the grenade went off. The bear’s head went flying up into the air in a geyser of rotted flesh and coagulated blood. Half the tree trunk was blown away and cracked at the weight of the two humans at the top. Mikki dropped down and landed on her feet, tucking and rolling as she landed to minimize the impact. Floyd fell nearly 20 feet and landed flat on his back. His world went black.