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Authors: Harrison Geillor
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raccoon gotten trapped in there or something? But surely it would have died from the fumes, too…
She went to her car and dug around in the console for the garage door opener—why Brent had even given it to her she’d never know, like he’d let her park in there, ever—and pressed the button.
The door rose, and Brent lurched out, naked, into the icy driveway. He didn’t look good, in fact he looked dead, but he was unaccountably lively for a dead man, and the worst thing about it was, he still had an erection, and that was a sight she could have lived quite contentedly without seeing again.
When he came stumbling toward her, arms out, gray face slack, drool running down his chin, teeth gnashing, little soldier standing at attention, she screamed.
Then she put her car in gear and ran him over.
8. The Pretty MuchAverage-Length Armof the Law
“H ow long do I have to sit on him?” Otto asked.
“Until Harry and Stevie Ray get here.” Dolph shifted a little on the couch, but kept the nose of the gun pointed at Mr. Levitt, who was lying face-down on the floor, apparently unbothered by having his face mere inches from a pool of leaky zombie gore, with Otto sitting on top of him, butt planted between his shoulder blades, legs on either side.
“What if he tries something?” Otto asked. “I’m not able to defend myself too well like this.”
“You outweigh him by forty pounds, Otto. He’s an old man. I wouldn’t worry.”
Otto nodded toward the limbless zombie, which still grunted and did its best to turn over, stuck on its back like a turtle. “That guy there’s got forty pounds on me , and Mr. Levitt didn’t have any trouble taking him out.”
“I had my tools with me then,” Mr. Levitt offered, tone perfectly reasonable, if a bit muffled from having his face pressed most of the way into the carpet. “And he didn’t see it coming. He was a real victim of opportunity. I was never much of a stalker, couldn’t be bothered, but I happened upon him broken down out on old route 15, cell phone getting no reception, and offered to bring him here to use the phone, told him I’d talk to the mechanic for him, make sure he got the local’s price instead of being charged an arm and a leg. He was grateful right up until the point I put the needle in his neck. Heh.” Levitt’s laugh was nasty, and his whole body shook with it, sending unpleasant vibrations up through Otto’s bottom parts.
“This is sick.” Rufus came in from the hallway, holding an old-fashioned bag of the sort country doctors once used, when the world was a better place and people made house calls and nobody knew what HMO stood for and you could pay your medical bill with a bushel of corn or maybe a couple of chickens. Of course they didn’t have polio vaccine or chemotherapy back then, so maybe the changing times weren’t all bad. “It’s all full of finger bones.”
“That’s a good boy, get those fingerprints all over everything.” Levitt cackled again. “Not that it much matters, but in case the civil authorities do get things under control and avert the apocalypse and take me to trial, I appreciate any crime-scene contamination you want to do.”
Rufus dropped the bag and moaned, wiping his hands on his shirt. “I went down in the cellar, the dirt’s all soft, and there are gaping holes where I guess these zombies came climbing out.”
“I always meant to pour concrete down there, cover them all over, I figured, I’m an old man, I’m retired, why do I need my own little personal burial ground anymore? But I just couldn’t do it. What if somebody came to the door all alone one afternoon with a petition, nobody else on the street, where would I put him when I was done?”
“Just shut up, please.” Otto pressed down on the back of Mr. Levitt’s head with the palm of his hand.
A hard rap came at the door. “Come on in!” Dolph said, and the town policemen, Harry and Stevie Ray, entered. Both wore beige
She went to her car and dug around in the console for the garage door opener—why Brent had even given it to her she’d never know, like he’d let her park in there, ever—and pressed the button.
The door rose, and Brent lurched out, naked, into the icy driveway. He didn’t look good, in fact he looked dead, but he was unaccountably lively for a dead man, and the worst thing about it was, he still had an erection, and that was a sight she could have lived quite contentedly without seeing again.
When he came stumbling toward her, arms out, gray face slack, drool running down his chin, teeth gnashing, little soldier standing at attention, she screamed.
Then she put her car in gear and ran him over.
8. The Pretty MuchAverage-Length Armof the Law
“H ow long do I have to sit on him?” Otto asked.
“Until Harry and Stevie Ray get here.” Dolph shifted a little on the couch, but kept the nose of the gun pointed at Mr. Levitt, who was lying face-down on the floor, apparently unbothered by having his face mere inches from a pool of leaky zombie gore, with Otto sitting on top of him, butt planted between his shoulder blades, legs on either side.
“What if he tries something?” Otto asked. “I’m not able to defend myself too well like this.”
“You outweigh him by forty pounds, Otto. He’s an old man. I wouldn’t worry.”
Otto nodded toward the limbless zombie, which still grunted and did its best to turn over, stuck on its back like a turtle. “That guy there’s got forty pounds on me , and Mr. Levitt didn’t have any trouble taking him out.”
“I had my tools with me then,” Mr. Levitt offered, tone perfectly reasonable, if a bit muffled from having his face pressed most of the way into the carpet. “And he didn’t see it coming. He was a real victim of opportunity. I was never much of a stalker, couldn’t be bothered, but I happened upon him broken down out on old route 15, cell phone getting no reception, and offered to bring him here to use the phone, told him I’d talk to the mechanic for him, make sure he got the local’s price instead of being charged an arm and a leg. He was grateful right up until the point I put the needle in his neck. Heh.” Levitt’s laugh was nasty, and his whole body shook with it, sending unpleasant vibrations up through Otto’s bottom parts.
“This is sick.” Rufus came in from the hallway, holding an old-fashioned bag of the sort country doctors once used, when the world was a better place and people made house calls and nobody knew what HMO stood for and you could pay your medical bill with a bushel of corn or maybe a couple of chickens. Of course they didn’t have polio vaccine or chemotherapy back then, so maybe the changing times weren’t all bad. “It’s all full of finger bones.”
“That’s a good boy, get those fingerprints all over everything.” Levitt cackled again. “Not that it much matters, but in case the civil authorities do get things under control and avert the apocalypse and take me to trial, I appreciate any crime-scene contamination you want to do.”
Rufus dropped the bag and moaned, wiping his hands on his shirt. “I went down in the cellar, the dirt’s all soft, and there are gaping holes where I guess these zombies came climbing out.”
“I always meant to pour concrete down there, cover them all over, I figured, I’m an old man, I’m retired, why do I need my own little personal burial ground anymore? But I just couldn’t do it. What if somebody came to the door all alone one afternoon with a petition, nobody else on the street, where would I put him when I was done?”
“Just shut up, please.” Otto pressed down on the back of Mr. Levitt’s head with the palm of his hand.
A hard rap came at the door. “Come on in!” Dolph said, and the town policemen, Harry and Stevie Ray, entered. Both wore beige
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