Chapter Seven *Running Low*

Chapter Seven

*Running Low*

I spent the past thirty minutes shuffling down the multilane highway puking my guts out.

 Literally.

 As yummy as it was, Rambo’s brain didn’t settle well in me. I never knew that something coming out of my body could smell so bad. I think that some of my internal organs were mixed in with the raunchy rapids of ralph spewing from my gullet. Was that my spleen or stomach that just exploded on the pavement? Like I really could tell the difference at this point. Every part of my body was rotting. A putrid mess that once resembled a human body.

Let’s face it, a scorched pot of sloppy joe meat made a better diagram of the human anatomy than I did. All this throwing up didn’t help me feel any better. The hunger was no longer sated because its favorite pacifier was ending up all over the highway. With each heave, I swore that my ever-rotting abdomen was going to crumple off like shingles during a hurricane.

Who would have thought that the dead could get sick?

I suppose if any of my kind could do it, it would have to be me. I feel so privileged to earn the title: Barfy McSpewsalot. I staggered forward the best that I could under the circumstances. Each step I took, more of Rambo came flowing out in a slurry of septic putrefaction. I maybe dead but even the horrid aroma that was assailing what was left of my nostrils made me want to puke more. The best I can describe this would be rotten eggs, stomach bile, loose diarrhea, putrid ground beef that were mixed together and left outside in a metal bowl during a hot summer day.

Now that’s a lovely summer salad, right there. You still hungry?

The rain came down lazily, like the clouds wanted to open up and give more but couldn’t. I wish that it would hurry the hell up and do it. I’d be grateful if it would wash away the puke that covered my clothes. When it came out, I had no choice in if my body would bend over or stay fully erect when I unleashed the contents of my stomach.

I looked down as I examined the poor excuse of free death clothing I had on. They were starting to look like it had been through hell and back. My shirt was grimy, slimy, and torn from multiple stab wounds. The sleeves on my jacket were tearing at the seams. My pants were covered in different shades of brown and torn everywhere so I could actually see my chicken legs. It’s the zombie apocalypse and soon I’d be chasing people in my undead birthday suit. I pretty sure that would cause them to pause just long enough to bask at my putrescent body of beauty before I chomped down on their decedent brains.

I groaned in pain as the hunger screamed at me to find food soon. I looked all around me and saw nothing. No one was anywhere near me. This wasn’t an ideal time to be sick and all alone. The hunger would choose to feed itself soon enough if I didn’t act. That meant I would decay faster than usual and with this came the full body pain.

What a charmed, undead existence I have.

What a desolate predicament I got myself into. I’m on a road trip and not a McBrains in sight for miles. I really should ration the brains I come across, just for the lean times like now. I knew that was a laughable notion as soon as I thought it. Brains are the drug of choice for us zombie junkies and we consume them faster than…I don’t know. My pain levels spiked through the roof of my decrepit skull to the point that I couldn’t think of any witty. Maybe I would be better off lying down on the pavement and wait for some unsuspecting human to walk by and –

I unleashed a graveling howl as the hunger disagreed with my idea. With it, the pain reached an all-time high. It was strong enough to kill ten people. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t on that list but I got the pleasure of experiencing it though. I mentally snarled at the hunger: If you got a better idea, I’m dying to hear it. The wind started to swirl all around me; debris flew by faster than I could track. I could care less but it had the hunger on edge. It was like a hungry predator trapped in a room full of prey and no exit in sight.

Hubcaps whizzed by my head, causing my mouth to involuntarily snap at it. Off in the distance somewhere, I could hear the sound of a freight train rumbling. The prospect of this got the hunger salivating as I felt it take over. My poor chicken legs hobbled as I ran, making it appear that I skipping along the highway. The rumbling sound was becoming more pronounced and deafening with each passing second, but I still couldn’t see the where the freight train was coming from. No signs of railroad tracks or depots, just noise.

The clouds above me finally gushed out its content upon me and I got my wish. I’m fairly certain all the grotty crud on my clothes washed away in slimy goblets. As I ran in the rain, I noticed that the sound was practically on top of me, which didn’t seem right. Where was it? Where’s the conductor and his juicy engineer brain at? Why am I no longer jostling with each step I take? As I looked down, I saw that my feet were no longer touching the pavement. I was floating up in the air like macabre Halloween decoration. As I ascended toward the heavens, my flight path took on the characteristics of a draining tub, only in reverse.

Auntie Em! Auntie Em! It’s a twister! It’s a twister!

The gusting winds of the tornado lifted me up effortlessly like a feather. I twisted and twirled throughout this funnel of fun. And yes, I spewed once more. No wonder the hunger was on high alert; there are so many things in here that it overwhelmed us both.

Car…

Shingles…

Bricks…

Guard railing….

Tire…

I got intimate with all the debris and so much more as each one took turns battering my poor rotting body. After this, I need to find a good day spa and get my flaky ass pampered. I deserve it, don’t I? Round and round I go. Where will I stop, who the hell knows? I felt like a bird, except the one that just flew pass me. He was flung out of here so fast that I barely registered the little guy or I would have eaten him. I couldn’t resist the urge any longer. I extended my arms out and awkwardly flapped them like a bird having a seizure.

I’m a leaf in a tornado….watch how I soar….all over this damn thing…

 Ah man, I’m never going to get all the tangles out of my matted hair after this one. I just know it. I hit a small pocket in the twister and then I was hovering on the outskirts of the funnel.

This can’t be good.

Out of desperation, I flailed my arms frantically in hopes that it would slow my descent back to the ground. This never worked out for cartoon characters but I’m a zombie so why not, right? No matter how much I flapped my arms, my body twisted and tumbled freely in the air. Just like pigs, zombie can’t fly and I’m the unloving proof. My body managed to surf along a powerful stream of wind; it guided me towards a house that appeared to be boarded up. The weathered roof that had taken a beating from the storm came into my view fast. I crashed through a soft spot and landed on a floor made up of old wooden planks and a few throw rugs. Dust clouds plumbed all around me.

Note to self: Tornadoes are a blast until you have to leave it.

The rain poured into room from my new entrance I created, it pelted my body which I discovered was broken in several places. This is becoming a nuisance and a habit. My legs were both bent at odd angles, as were my feet. My lap wasn’t my lap anymore, it was strange. I couldn’t quite figure it out what was so off about it. My right arm had dislocated, hanging limply by my side and it too was twisted wrong.

No big deal, I’ll just fix this.

 As I use my left arm, I notice that it’s turned wrong. The hand and was facing sideways and I couldn’t get it to my other arm. What the hell did I do to myself? Realization hit me.

My head was on backwards! I’ve gone full on Linda Blair!

At least I had one good arm, sort of. My left arm looked like a porcupine as my bones protruded in various spots. But at least it worked.

Sort of.

The hunger shrieked inside my mind as the distinct sound of voices that was coming closer from outside.  It screamed at me to rise up and feed but my whole body wasn’t responding because it was currently broken. Where’s some Duct tape and super glue when a zombie needed it? A door to the left of- no wait, the right of me opened up.

This whole being twisted like a macabre pretzel is so confusing.

The people were looking around, surveying the damage as their gazes were locked upward at the strange shaped hole in the ceiling. They all had on dirty but colorful clothing, like they were a part of some sideshow or something. I ached for one of them to wander closer so I could have a bite, I’m starving. It’s like ordering a brain pizza and the driver is taking forever to get it to your house. One of the guys looked down from the ceiling and locked eyes with me.

“Holy shit!” the guy shouted, “I think that tornado flung that zombie into OUR living room.”

Yes, I thought I’d crash at your place for a while I ride out the storm I thought as my body twitched, fingers grasping at the far away long pigs before me.  The other two only pointed and laughed at my misfortune.

 I’m going to enjoy eating all of you… slowly.

“I don’t think it’s capable of moving any more than that. Tony, go around back and see if any of my bent rebar is still there?”

“Umm okay,” Tony questioned, “but I’ve got my bat right here that will work just fine Steve.”

Steve chuckled as he approached me; his brain was calling out to the hunger to clamp down on and nourish my emaciated body, and replied, “I want to have a little fun with this dead piece of shit.”

Tony shrugged his shoulders as he exited the house. The one that had initially spotted me stepped up beside Steve. He cocked his head to the side, pondering something and then asked, “What kind of fun are planning for this one? The last time you wanted to have “fun” with one of these things nearly got us all killed.”

Did Steve know me in life or was he being a total dick? I couldn’t help but jerk forward, snapping my sickly mouth at Steve but all he did was smile at me as he patted my head like I was a good little zombie. The vote is in: Steve is a total dick.

“That time was different and was a spry, freshly turned one, unlike this one. This zombie is incapacitated and is barely a threat to anyone. If it wasn’t, would I be able to do this?”

Tony came back into the house holding several bent rebar. Steve manically grinned as he extended his juicy, muscular arm out and commanded, “Oh good, hand them here. Tony, I want you to hold its head steady for this. Jack, hold its arms so I can work. ”

“What!” Tony exclaimed, “I don’t want anywhere near the business end of this thing. Have Jack do it.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Stop being a little shit. Just gag the fucker with this plush pillow so it can mindlessly bite on it. It’s not like it will know the difference.” Steve flung the plush pillow at Tony. He fumbled around with it but didn’t drop, much to my dismay. As his hand got closer, the hunger caused my jaw to react as I tried desperately to bite Tony but managed to gnaw on the pillow. Tony placed his shaking hands on top of my head, grimacing the whole time.

I watched helplessly as Steve shoved the bent ends of the rebar into my back, the pressure cracked the ribs as they went through me. The metal didn’t go all the way through my body, but it damn near did. Steve cackled as he lifted me up in the air, using the rebar and ran outside with both Tony and Jack following close behind him. He stopped by a rusty mailbox that was somewhat connected to a rickety wood fence that had seen better days.

The soften patch of dirt let the base of the rebar slide in as easily as it did in my poor mistreated body. Both Tony and Jack cocked their heads in confused contemplation but then the two juicy morsels whooped and laughed as Steve proclaimed, “Behold! The world’s first zombie pin wheel!”

They all took turns grabbing a limb and spun me around and around, laughing their meaty asses off. How humiliating and it didn’t help that I still had the plush pillow in my mouth. Why not just end my existence right here, right now? Am I to forever be a zombie pin wheel, the laughing stock of the apocalypse? As my world spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl, I made out other distinct shapes approaching. Maybe these buffoon were about to get eaten by my brothers and sisters. My world view came into focus once I finally stopped and much to my surprise, I was getting swarmed by more humans.

The hunger raged in me to the point that I thought my limbs would rip off and drag one of them to my mouth. Steve boasted with pride, “Come everyone and take a spin! Win a prize every time!” I heard something being placed behind me. Jack had the audacity to put a pointy party hat on my head and explained, “Where the tip of the hat stops will show you the prize. All required to play is a bottle of water, food or ammo. Step up for some safe stress free fun at The Carnival of the Dead!”

People seemed way to eager to slap their gear down on a makeshift crate where Tony sat, greedily perusing the goods. A long line formed in front of me as the first girl reached forward and spun me around.

“I’m sooooo eating you Steve and all who spin me!” I growled out loud but none heard it through the plush pillow.