Zombies in Paradise (Love in the Age of Zombies Book 2) (21 page)

Don went back into Ms. Tracy’s room. She was still lying on the floor almost naked. A little blood was on the floor by her head. Don pulled hard on her bra and ripped it in two. He could see all of her titties now. He had never seen real titties, just pictures. He touched them with his hands and squeezed them, then patted the pink nipples. They felt good. They weren't all pokey like in the pictures but even so they made him want something. He sat on the floor and pulled down his pants. Then he spread Ms. Tracy’s legs apart like he’d seen in the pictures, kneeled between them and put his peter on her slit. He poked at her for a minute then pushed his secret into her. At first it just kind of hurt, but then it got more slippery and that was okay. After a minute it felt really good and he didn’t want to stop, so he didn’t. He finished his secret, but when he pulled out of Ms. Tracy he was all bloody and so was her secret. He didn’t like that at all. It made him feel bad. He didn’t want to feel bad, so he threw her body off the balcony. Then he did the same thing with Mr. Lockhart. He went back to Ms. Tracy’s room and used her shirt to clean the blood off his secret then threw it in the sink. The floor was messy so he got his mop and bucket and made it all clean again.

Part of him felt ashamed, but most of him didn’t. They were mean to him. Mean people deserved the gymnasium. Now they were in the gymnasium. So he had the whole school to himself. After a long time he got lonely and started exploring the neighborhood. Sometimes he had to hit zombies in the head with the baseball bat he got from lost and found. But mostly he hid from them because they were mean and they smelled really bad.

One corner of his bedroom was filled with kids’ book bags. He thought the parents might come after their kids and so he should have all their book bags in one spot. He collected them from the classrooms, using his master key to open the doors. There were also a few stuffed animals he’d brought from when he went to
see a man about a horse
. They looked happy and cheerful.

He slept in a corner of the room close to the windows. He had a mattress from the sick room and some blankets. And he had his magazines. He had lots of them now. Some of them had a lot of words but he never read the words. Some of them just showed naked ladies, but some showed naked ladies and naked men, all doing their secret. He liked these best. It was especially nice when Matey slept at his feet, because then he had his secret but didn’t feel alone.

He hadn’t always had Matey for a friend. He found him in one of the houses. It smelled bad because the people who lived there were dead and Matey had eaten part of them. Even so, he looked starved, and when Don opened the door, Matey came limping up and fell at Don’s feet. Don carried him home and fed him some crackers and gave him water. Don helped him get better and then they were friends and Don wasn’t alone anymore.

Don opened a can of cat food for the dog and laughed. “It’s a good thing you can’t read!” he said. Matey wagged his tail. Don opened a can of baked beans for himself and they had lunch. Then he took the cans and threw them off the balcony into the gym. He walked around the halls, Matey at his side. The halls made a big square around the school, so Don could walk all the way around and end up where he started. Mr. Miller said he should do this ten times a day, so Don did, even when the kids poked fun at him. It was better now because he could walk around the square without all the kids.

After his tenth time around, he took Matey into the small courtyard in the very middle of the school and waited until Matey did his business. Then they went back to the bedroom. By now it was getting dark and Don didn’t feel like having any secrets, so he looked out the window at the stars for a while then fell asleep.

After that, Don started watching the man’s house a little bit every day. He sneaked into the house next door to the man’s house and watched from behind the curtains upstairs. He saw the man digging in the dirt and planting something. He saw the man water the plants. Then the man stopped and looked around, like he was listening. Don was afraid the man had heard him, so he hid more behind the curtain. He left not long after that.

Chapter Seventeen

As the boat approached a slip on the Frankfort dock, a man strolled over to greet them. Jake skillfully piloted them in, the boat barely kissing the slip before Jake threw the rope for the man to tie off. He was a lanky fellow around thirty-years-old with a weathered look about him. His expression was friendly but alert.
That’s probably how I look,
Kevin thought.

“Afternoon,” the man said, eying Kevin up and down. “I’m Tony.”

“Kevin,” he responded with a nod. Tony stretched out his arm and helped Kevin onto the dock.

“Jake, you and Lee coming to town?”

“Nah, we’d best be headed back. I still have a lot to do today. No rest for the wicked, you know. Besides, Lee wants to get some sun on the beach,” he said with a smirk and a sideways glance at Lee.

“Alright, well, keep in touch. I’ll take Kevin into town. See you soon.” Tony untied the rope and Kevin waved to Jake and Lee as they slipped into the bay.

“Bye, Kevin! Come see us soon!” Lee said, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse with a laugh. Soon they were well on their way.

Tony glanced at Kevin. “She show you her boobs?” When Kevin blushed and nodded he said, “Yeah, she does that a lot. I doubt there’s a guy in town who hasn’t seen them at one time or another. And you know how he said she wanted some tanning time? They tan in the nude. I’ve seen them myself,” he added with a grin.

They were walking toward the center of town which wasn’t far from the marina. A number of stores were open, but none of them seemed familiar except the hardware store and the bookstore, both of which were doing good business. As they crossed the street Kevin noticed the marquee for the Garden Theater a block ahead:

Mary Poppins

Key Largo

Apocalypse Now

“That’s an odd collection of movies,” he remarked.

“Yeah, Rick and Jenny have movie nights every Friday. Something for the kids, something for the romantics, and something dark for those so inclined.

“Which kind are you, Tony?” Kevin asked, curious.

“I’m more of a
Fast and Furious
kind of guy. He shows action movies sometimes. I like something that gets my blood pumping so I know I’m alive,” he said. “Right now we’re headed for a brewpub in town called Stormcloud,” Tony answered, not knowing Kevin had been a customer before the Collapse.

“Lee told me you have a barter system here,” Kevin stated, “so how’s a stranger like me supposed to get a pint when I have nothing to barter with?”

“Brian and Rick are pretty good about that. They’ll start you a tab. Or let you work it off. But we’re not going there for the beer. I can’t drink until my shift’s up anyway.”

“Why are we going there?”

“That’s where folks gravitate. It’s the new, old-fashioned equivalent of Facebook or Twitter. In today’s world the only tweets are from the birds. People are doing what they did on Facebook—saying happy birthday, exchanging gossip, telling jokes or arguing about politics or religion.” As an aside, he muttered, “As if there’s a difference.” He went on, “Except they’re doing it face-to-face. Imagine that. How novel. Some folks here call it Facetime as a joke. A year ago, they could sit at home on their laptops, sending email and having chat windows open and cruising Facebook to keep up with their family and friends. They’d go to bed feeling like they had been socially active, but the truth is they were sitting in their house, alone, all night. Even married couples—he’d be on one computer, she’d be on the other. They were mostly living separate lives together.”

“But after the grid went down, people quit staying inside. There wasn’t much to do, especially at night, and they started wanting to hang out with other people. Even in the dead of winter, people braved the weather to get together. People see each other much more than they used to. Our churches are more crowded than they’ve ever been. We have Catholic, Methodist, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, you name it. Our community chorus gave a performance last month and there was a school spelling bee last week. Nearly the whole town turned out for both events. We even have two barbershop quartets
.
”

“Aah, listen to me go on. You know what I did before the grid went down? I was a librarian at the Benzie Shores District Library. Imagine that. A job where you can’t talk much. Now that I don’t work there, you can’t shut me up. But anyway, there are a few folks you need to talk to and Stormcloud’s the most likely place to find them. And here we are!”

Hearing Tony say there were people Kevin needed to talk to made him feel like he was being escorted to a job interview. Outside the pub was a small covered patio with tables and a fire pit. Tony held the door open and they walked inside. Kevin was immediately struck by the familiarity of the bar. There was a murmur of conversation, the clinking of glassware, the smell of beer. The room wasn’t very wide but was deep with a bar running along most of the right-hand wall. He knew from previous visits that the fermentation tanks were behind the bar and rear wall. Two chalkboards were mounted on the wall above the bar, one titled On Tap and the other titled Menu. Just like the old days, bartenders poured pints and loaded them on trays for the wait staff to deliver to tables.

The most obvious difference in the room was the lighting. No overhead lights, no touch screen computers where orders were entered and receipts printed. No TV on the wall showing a ballgame or, God forbid, a news channel. The tables all had softly glowing lamps with small solar collectors on top. These were solar lamps, similar to the kind folks used at home along their sidewalks. They gave a soft glow to each table. It could even be perceived as romantic.

But other than the lighting, it looked like a regular brewpub. Neon beer signs were on the walls, but of course they weren’t lit. There were about a dozen folks at various tables and at the bar, both men and women, and a lot of them looked up as Kevin and Tony walked in. A few of them greeted Tony, but the rest were eying Kevin. Tony walked to the bar and grabbed an empty barstool; Kevin took the one next to him. Soon the level of conversation returned to normal, and one of the guys behind the bar walked over.

“Hey, Brian, this is Calvin,” Tony said.

“Kevin,” he corrected as he stuck out his hand. “Nice to see you, Brian. We’ve met before.”

“Have we?” Brian returned as he shook Kevin’s hand.

“It was a long time ago, probably ten years. You were a photographer and we were both homebrewers.”

“That was a long time ago!” Brian remarked.

Tony excused himself and briefly chatted at a table with two men and a woman before joining a young lady sitting alone.

“You’re the brewmaster, right?” Kevin asked.

“Not only am I the brewmaster, I’m also the janitor, cook, dishwasher  .  .  .  you name it.” Brian said. “What brings you to town? Are you a new resident or just passing through?” Kevin told him about Michelle needing a hospital, and how he made the trip to verify whether Frankfort was a safe-haven.

“How many people live here?” asked Kevin.

“At last count, we had three hundred men and four hundred and fifty women,” Brian said proudly. “We’ve had five babies born in the past six months. You said you used to be a home brewer. I’d like to know what you think of my beer. This first pint is on me. What can I get you?”

Kevin looked at the beer list and immediately said “
Another Day, Another Apocalypse
.”

“Proof again that it’s all in the marketing. We sell more of that beer than any other, just because of the name!” As Brian poured the pint, he asked “So what line of work did you do before the grid went down?”

“I was a computer tech guy. I ran the network servers, fixed broken printers, reset passwords. That sort of thing.” It seemed like it was ten years ago, not eight months!

“IT, eh?” Brian said, using a cloth to wipe down the bar. “I’ll bet the hospital could use you. They have a few broken laptops. What else? How about your homebrew? What did you like to brew? Ale? Hard cider? Wheat beer?”

“A little of everything. During the fall I usually brewed a pumpkin beer that I aged in old oak bourbon casks. During the spring I usually did a Hefeweisen. I’ve done a few hard ciders.”

“How’d the pumpkin turn out? Did you use fresh or canned pumpkin? Or did you just use pumpkin spices?”

“I wasn’t able to brew it this year. What with everything going on, it just wasn’t happening. But last time I brewed it, I used a few pounds of pumpkin to justify calling it a pumpkin ale, not a pumpkin spice ale. Then a couple months ago I was trying for a Founder’s
Red’s Rye
clone. Didn’t quite live up to
Red’s Rye
, but I enjoyed it. I think I should have used more Perle and less Amarillo, and I didn’t have enough rye, but it turned out pretty good.”

“Do you remember what yeast you used?”

“I had a few growlers of
Red’s Rye
from their tap room—I harvested the yeast and added some Wyeast 1056.”

Brian smiled and said “Okay, you passed the test. You obviously have some brewing experience. I could use some help around here if you’re interested. What do you think of the beer?