Floyd & Mikki (Book 1): Zombie Hunters (Love Should Be Explosive!) (9 page)

It was a little after three when Floyd finished piling the last shovelful of dirt on top of the graves. The pair felt they should say a prayer or something, but neither really knew how, so Mikki read the prayer off the back of her holy card. She also had put a card with each of the bodies before dropping them into the ground. Floyd noticed that she took the priest’s rosary beads and put them in her backpack.

He chuckled to himself, thinking they should be hunting vampires instead of zombies, but he said nothing. Good thing the holy water in the church had dried out long ago or she probably would have filled all their water bottles with it.

He understood, though. The kid had been through hell and she needed something to believe in. So did he, truth be told, but Floyd didn’t know what to believe about anything anymore. And the one man who might have had some answers about God was buried in the hole he had just filled. What a shitty, shitty world.

Floyd took out a water bottle and poured it all over his head, chest and back. He caught Mikki looking at him with an odd look on her face. He suddenly felt naked, and once he washed the dirt away, he couldn’t get his shirt back on fast enough. He pulled out the map of downtown Groverstown that Zeke had given him. The old man had marked a couple places on the map, but there was only one that Floyd was interested in at the moment. The motorcycle shop.

Not that Floyd had visions of driving twin Harleys down the road with Mikki, two bad-asses on bikes. No, he was more interested in the clothing. Zeke had maybe given him the answer to a question Floyd had been pondering for more than a year, and he was excited to check it out. Once he’d armored back up, Floyd headed off down the road again, pulling the wagon and leaving the shovel, but not before Mikki drew F+M with a heart around the letters on the outside of the church door with a thick red marker.

“You ever been married, Floyd?”

He winced at the question. It clearly caused him some pain, but he answered anyway. Why lie?

“Nope. Was supposed to get married a while back. High school sweetheart. Wanted to wait till I had a good job. Bought a little house. We were about 23 when I finally proposed. Supposed to get married the next year. Then I found her in bed with my best friend who was gonna be my Best Man. Turns out he was her ‘Best Man.’ Never had much use for women after that.

“How about you? Ever had a boyfriend?”

“Ha! No way. Men kinda get intimidated when you tell ‘em you’re gonna cut their dick off and wear it on your belt like a lucky rabbit’s foot.”

“You don’t have a belt, Mikki.”

“Don’t need one…yet.” She said with a devilish smile.

”What about what’s-his-name? The guy you traveled around with before you met me. You said you buried him.”

“No, I
shot
him. Nice guy, but useless. Stupid and useless. Boyfriend? Ewww! No way! He got bit in the leg by a creeper and didn’t tell me. About 20 minutes later, he turns all creepy-ass zombie on me, so I blew his head off at close range. Got his brains all over me in the back-splatter. That’s why I cut off my jeans and T-shirt. Freshly dead creepers is still juicy and bloody. Yuck! You cain’t get that kind of smell out of clothes, neither.”

“And here I thought all along you were just tryin’ to be sexy,” Floyd joked.

“Now what in the world would give you that idea? I don’t let no man near me, Floyd. You know that. No man! But I figured all the men in the world was dead so who cares what I look like?”

“Then why do you always wear red lipstick and nail polish and stuff?”

“You really don’t understand girls, do ya, Floyd? I do that for me. Makes me feel all grown up.”

“Mikki, one of these days, you gotta look in a damn mirror. You
are
all grown up! No doubt about it!”

They walked for on about 10 more minutes until Floyd said, “Here it is!”

After parking the wagon outside, the two headed on in, shotguns ready. There was nobody in the main area of the store, which wasn’t surprising because the light streamed in through the broken front windows. But all the lights were busted out. Zombies weren’t smart and couldn’t figure out a doorknob, but they had enough intelligence—or more likely instinct—to throw things at something they hated, like light fixtures. Of course, their aim wasn’t too good, but they were relentless, so eventually they would smash any source of light they saw.

The motorcycles were in the back, where a sign said, “Showroom.” That room wasn’t lit, but they could see a couple rows of bikes through the double glass doors. There were push bars on the doors to enter the showroom.

“Well, I guess we need to check out this room first,” Floyd complained.

“No, we don’t,” Mikki answered.

She picked up a nearby chair and slid it down with one leg on each side behind the push bars. Now no one could push the bars to open the door from this side, and the chair jammed the doors closed so no one could open them from the other side, either.

“Works for me,” Floyd said.

Floyd was only interested in the front area of the store, which had circular racks of motocross clothing throughout the floor. A wide assortment of helmets, boots, gloves, backpacks and other gear lined the shelves on the walls. There was a sign that said, “Dressing Rooms,” to the right. Mikki headed in that direction with Lucy’s barrel leading the way.

Floyd followed her into the hallway, which immediately turned right. Flimsy curtains covered four dressing rooms on each side to offer some semblance of privacy. As she made her way down, Mikki pulled each curtain back with the shotgun barrel.

As she opened each curtain, Floyd could see there was nothing in the rooms. No clothes hanging on the empty hooks. No clothing on the floor. Nothing.

Nothing, that is, until they came to the last pair of dressing rooms. As Mikki threw open the curtain to the dressing room on her left, she was grabbed from behind by a creature in the other room. She screamed.

“Mikki!” Floyd yelled. He raised Ol’ Faithful, but couldn’t fire a shot. As she spun around with the zombie on her back, he couldn’t avoid hitting Mikki in the blast.

Soon, however, Mikki started laughing. Eventually, Floyd saw what was so funny. The brain-eater was wearing a gray jumpsuit and a helmet with full facemask. He was trying to bite Mikki, but couldn’t because his face was covered.

“Can you believe this shit?” Mikki asked. The creature might be wearing a helmet, but its neck was exposed. She threw the creature off her, deftly pulled her machete from its sheath, and sliced its head off in one smooth motion. It landed in Floyd’s arms as he held Ol’ Faithful. Mikki wiped the blade off on the thing’s clothes and re-sheathed it. Then she picked up Lucy from where she had fallen and blew past Floyd like nothing had happened.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Floyd called, tossing the helmeted zombie head over his shoulder. Didn’t Zeke say those raiders were wearing jumpsuits and facemasks?”

“Yeah, he did,” Mikki affirmed, coming back to the headless body. “Guess that’s why this guy’s wearing body armor.” She kicked the headless body in the chest with the toe of her boot. It made a dull thud that indicated there was a chest plate of some sort under the shirt. “He’s got a gun belt, too. No pistol in it, though. Guess I’ll call him ‘Woody.’”

“Say what, now?”

“Come on, Floyd. Remember
Toy Story
? Sheriff Woody, the cowboy? Runs around the whole movie with an empty holster like some pansy ass because they was too politically correct to give him a gun?”

“Woody, it is,” Floyd agreed. “Probably more of them in the showroom. I’m guessing they were here for the motorcycles.”

“How can this keep happening, Floyd?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Zeke said these guys was well armed. Real bad-asses. And those kids in the school. Where were the teachers? What happened to the parents? You don’t get bit by a creeper and get turned in 12 seconds. So how come all these people go zombie-ass at the same time. Like those army guys.”

“Well, the army guys pissed off a shitload of zombie bats, but there ain’t no bats around here.”

“I know. That’s what I mean. Something’s really wrong here, Floyd.”

“I agree, Mikki, but I don’t have a clue what it is, and we need to take care of ourselves first.”

“True enough. So what was you so hot to see in here, anyway?”

Floyd just smiled and led the way back to the main room.

“Ah! Robbie Nostromo! This is the brand Zeke said to look for.” Floyd held up a jacket. “Robbie was one of the top motocross racers back in the day. These clothes are supposed to be lightweight and tough as shit. See the raised bits of armor? And the tiny air holes? You can wear this in the worst heat and still feel cool, yet you can skid on your ass over rocks and asphalt and keep your skin on. This is what we need. Find one that fits and try it on.”

Floyd began peeling off his weapons belt and layers of armor. Mikki didn’t see any danger, but that meant nothing, so she kept her hands firmly on Lucy. When he got down to his undershirt, Floyd started looking through the motocross jackets hanging on the circular racks.

Mikki hesitated, still clinging to Lucy. Floyd read her mind and said, “Don’t worry. We’ve got the back blocked off and we have a clear view through the front windows. Just keep alert for trouble and we should be fine. Try to find at least two jackets and pairs of pants. Then we’ll get the other gear.”

“Hey, Floyd. What’s ‘keevlair’ mean?”

“Huh?”
“She showed him a label inside one of the jackets. “It says, ‘Made with
keevlair
.’ Ain’t those them elves who live in a tree bakin’ cookies?”

Floyd choked back a laugh and explained as nicely as he could. “No, those were the ‘Keebler Elves.’ It’s pronounced, ‘Kevlar.’ That’s the material that makes it so tough. It’s built into the jacket. Military uses it for body armor. Or, they did, when there was a military. Supposedly can stop a bullet.”

“Cool!” responded Mikki. “Of course, creepers don’t shoot bullets.”

“No, but they do bite. A flock of zombie bats couldn’t bite through this body armor.”

“Ah! You thinking of going back to that truck and getting’ more fun stuff?” Her face lit up.

“Maybe. Still gotta figure out how to get outta there without bringin’ a dozen or so bats back with us.” Floyd looked at the price tag. $1,499 for one jacket. Good thing the economy collapsed. He could never have afforded this before. Now he could take as many as he wanted.

He tried a couple of jackets that weren’t quite right for one reason or another. Then he found a perfect fit. It felt like it was tailor made for him. He had total freedom of movement and he didn’t have to worry about his pieces of plastic paintball armor slipping down the arms of his flannel shirt. It felt really comfortable. The high neck of the jacket was a thick leather strap that wrapped around and snapped at the side.

“Damn, Floyd! You look really sexy in that!”

“Don’t tease me,” Floyd said, only half joking. He looked in a mirror and had to admit the cut was very flattering. He transferred the holy card Mikki had given him earlier, a pen, a small notebook and a couple of other bits of junk from his shirt pockets to the inside pockets of his new jacket.

Mikki, however, was having major problems. None of the jackets would zip up over Mikki’s Ds. “I can’t find nothin’ that fits me,” Mikki pouted. “Nothing fits over my chest. I cain’t get nothin’ zipped up!”

Floyd broke out laughing at her and said, “That’s because you’re looking on the men’s rack. Try the one over there that says ‘Women’s Jackets.’ Damn, girl! I though you women knew how to shop!”

“Sexist pig,” Mikki retorted before sticking her tongue out at him. She held up a blood red jacket in one hand and a beautiful turquoise blue jacket in the other.

“Stick to all black,” Floyd cautioned. “We need to blend into the shadows.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “I was just thinkin’…in better days…”

She left the thought unfinished, then threw the jackets to the floor, a few feet behind her. She scanned the outside world with her eyes and looked back at the dressing rooms, just in case. Still no sign of trouble—yet. She was learning from Floyd to be a little more cautious. OK, a lot more cautious.

Next, she held up a black outfit with red pin striping, and a hot pink one with black pin striping. Gorgeous, but not practical. She nearly wanted to cry as she threw them in the pile with the others. She thought maybe she could keep the pink one, just for fun, but she still couldn’t get it quite zipped up over her chest. Not and be able to breathe, anyways. Finally, she found a black one with dark grey accents. It was stylish and just what she needed.

“Damn, Floyd! You wasn’t kiddin’! This thing fits like a glove. I love it!”

“Find another one…or two,” he suggested, not even looking in her direction. He was too busy looking for another jacket for himself. “We got the wagon. Might as well put it to good use. Don’t wear it home though. Get a shower first. Then we can burn these old clothes, for all I care. Please tell me you got more than one pair of underwear.”

“Of course! Panties is easy to pack. I got about six of ‘em in my bag and a spare bra. Bras is kind of hard to find in my size.”

A dozen crude comments went through his mind, but Floyd decided to keep all of them to himself. Too bad. Several of them were really funny. But none were worth a knife in the gut or a tongue lashing. He was far enough from Mikki and on the other side of a couple of racks, so he dropped his jeans and started trying on pants. The pants were perfect except for one thing: the pockets were really tight. No biggie. He could carry whatever else he needed on his belt and custom bandolier.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, when he finally looked over at Mikki.

“What? Something wrong?” Mikki asked.

“No! Nothing! Never mind! Sorry.”

Mikki was confused, but let it go. She went back to admiring herself in the mirror. Floyd admired her from where he was.
Down, boy! That’ll get me nothin’ but trouble. And I got enough trouble.

Still, she was amazingly hot. Like that Mrs. Peel chick from the old TV show, the Avengers. Or like some space warrior in one of those Sci Fi movies. The complex pattern of webbing and Kevlar accentuated every attribute of Mikki’s curvaceous body. Especially her two best attributes.

Floyd moved over to the wall and debated whether to keep his paintball mask or switch to one of the helmets. He finally decided on a helmet. Much better than a bowl stuck on the back of his head, and the high neck of the jacket fit perfectly into the bottom of the helmet for total neck protection. That meant he could lose the dorky neck brace, as well. He also chose a pair of boots that buckled up over the pants and were extra padded on the sole. They felt like walking on air. He could drop from 10 feet to the ground with no problem.

He looked over and saw Mikki trying a pair of ladies’ pirate boots. “Are you sure those are gonna be comfortable enough?” he asked.

“Oh hell yeah! Bottom is made outta some kinda rubber. They gotta flat sole and they feel all bouncy!” To prove her point, she bounced up and down a couple of times, squealing with delight. Parts of her kept bouncing after she stopped. Good parts. Floyd looked away, embarrassed, unable to say anything.

“This was a great idea, Floyd. Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”