Odd Jobs for the Undead - A Zombie For Hire Story

Chapter 7

The gravel parking lot around the Gravers' HQ was nearly empty, but the lights were on inside. I aimed the truck at the front door and mashed the brakes, skidding to a stop feet from the entrance. I pressed the heel of my hand against the horn and sounded it three times, hoping it would get someone's attention.

The engine still running, I got out to check on my passengers. Stu was still lying pretty much where I left him, unconscious. Marta was sitting in the truck bed behind the passenger seat, hugging her knees to her chest. She was mumbling in Spanish. I wasn't sure, but I thought it might have been the Lord's Prayer, which struck me as mildly funny. Religion did not seem to offer much in the way of explaining zombies. Without an upbringing in any particular religion to influence me, I'd settled on a vague sort of agnosticism that was probably closer to atheism. After tonight, I was definitely leaning more towards atheism.

"What's going on?" DeSpain bellowed, coming through the HQ's double doors with another Graver hot on his heels. It was a younger guy I hadn't seen earlier.

"Stu's hurt," I said, going around to the back of the truck and lowering the gate. "He needs a doctor."

DeSpain pulled his revolver and pointed it at my head.

"Get back," he snarled. "Doug, go in and get the others."

Doug turned on his heel and ran back through the glass double doors.

I grabbed Stu's pant legs and pulled him toward the end of the truck.

"It wasn't me, asshole. Put the gun away and help me get these two inside," I said.

DeSpain stepped closer, gun still pointed at my head.

"Get away from him! You've done enough to my people already."

I let go of Stu's legs and turned to face him.

"We were attacked by a group of zombies. They're the ones that did this."

"After you left, I chambered six hollow points. A head shot may not end you but I'm sure it won't feel good," DeSpain said quietly.

"If it wasn't for me, your people would be dead now. You should be treating me like a hero. Now help me."

"I don't believe you," he said.

DeSpain set his jaw and I could see the muscles in his arm tensing to pull the trigger. Zombies, me included, aren't terribly fast. I didn't rate my chances as good that I could tackle him before he could get a shot off.

How ironic it would be to have my own skull blown open after all the head bashing I'd done twenty minutes ago. Karmic retribution. Maybe there was a god after all and he or she had a really sick sense of humor.

"Put the gun down, Felix," I heard Stu rasp. "It's true. I don't know how he did it, but Gordon saved us."

The tendons in DeSpain's hands relaxed slightly. He kept the pistol aimed at my face, but he glanced over at the truck bed where Stu was trying to sit up. The Graver's face was pale as paper and I could see the pain in his face when he moved.

"If you twitch, I pull the trigger. Understand?" DeSpain asked. I nodded yes. "Tell me what happened."

Before Stu could answer, Doug rushed out of the building leading a half dozen other gravers, all of them with hand axes and truncheons at the ready. I didn't even have time to blink before the were on me. Doug swung his truncheon at my face. I stumbled backward to avoid the blow, tripping over my myself. He swung again. The blow glanced off my arm, but I was already unbalanced and went sprawling into the gravel. In a panic, I tried to crawl under the bed of the pickup truck, but I felt hands grab me by the ankles and drag me back out. I could hear Stu yelling, trying to tell the Gravers to stop, but it wasn't working.