By and copyright of Owen Quinn author of the Time Warriors and Zombie Blues
Cover by Conaire McMullan
More Zombies, more trouble. Welcome to book 2 of Zombie Blues who give us their view on the world and life from behind undead eyes. This time round meet Diabetic Zombie, Racist Zombie, the Ice Queen and why is there a zombie with no teeth?
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There was a collective cheer which was suddenly interrupted by the roar of an engine. It was like the roar of Godzilla about to deliver us from evil. Ken and Chang grabbed each side of the doors ready to fling them open the second Anna screeched to a halt.
The second she did James would be bundled into the van along with Mrs Kenner. Ken, Chang, myself and Marjorie would defend Stephen and Ken. Being the biggest of us they would fire our crates of weapons into the van.
Then we would get the hell out of here.
I was shaking, sweating like a glassblower’s arse. Tyres screeched, a horn blew urgently. The doors flung open to a chorus of gnashing and snarling, the song of the dead. We ran outside and began smashing heads.
From up above the crowds didn’t seem that bad but now here face to face it was like Black Friday. They seemed to be everywhere. Chang danced like a ballerina as he weaved and sliced at everyone that came near him. Thick smelly blood began to seep into the ground. I couldn’t think of these things as people. They were filthy spawn to be wiped out so that we could live.
Anna jumped out to help us. James was safely put inside. Mrs Kenner refused to go just yet, ramming some of the zombies with her makeshift chariot like Ben Hur on a budget. All the men couldn’t help but wince when a zombie got it in the nuts. I swore there was a look of surprise on their faces as the knife went in and then a ghost of shock rippled their features.
I was stopped in my tracks for a second as I saw tears run down her determined face. In that instant I knew every thrust was for her beloved Albert.
‘Mrs Kenner, get into the van!’ I yelled.
‘James is safe, that’s all that matters. Save all the children you can!’
With that she began to back off in her scooter yelling at the undead using language that was quite unbecoming of a lady.
We began shouting at her to stop but she didn’t listen. A group of zombies turned in her direction.
Stephen and Ken made to go after her but I yelled at them to keep putting the stuff in the van. A pile of bodies had fallen around us but the dead just kept coming. Their threat lay in numbers; our salvation lay in increasing ours.
‘I am Eleanor Kenner. I am the mother of four beautiful children and the wife of Albert Kenner. He was a rocket in bed and a rocket in life. He was my joy, my soul, my rock. You lot screwed that up so this is payback.’ She trundled back and back as more were drawn to her.
‘Mrs K!; yelled Stephen. ‘Betablocker time!’
I looked at him in confusion and he had the most insane grin on his face. Mrs Kenner gave him the thumbs up.
From the basket on front of her scoot she lifted out a plastic flask and a lighter. She straightened up and nodded to us.
A yellow flame flared from the lighter as she lit a wick attached to the flask.
I heard Stephen yell duck.
I heard Ken shout the van as loaded. We stood watching as the wick fizzed with fire and Mrs Kenner smiled to herself.
She erupted in a storm of fire as the flask exploded. The mushroom took out everything within five feet of her.
‘You can make bombs?’ I gasped seeing new levels in Stephen.
‘Mrs Kenner’s idea. She was special forces in her day,’ he grinned.
‘Never judge a book by its cover, as my Mam used to say,’ I grinned. There was no time to cry. We had to leave. Maybe find those we loved if they were still alive. We had to find the hope in this darkness and restart the world again.
We piled into the van, zombies clawing after us. Their dead flesh made a bizarre sucking squelching sound on the doors as Anna hit the accelerator.
I looked round at them all. All bloodied and tired smelling of smoke and sweat but all alive and together.
‘Look,’ Marjorie said indicating back towards the street.
From the back darkened window we watched the charred remains of Mrs Kenner’s scooter burn. Its twisted frame alive in writhing flames dancing in celebration of our escape. What lay ahead now we didn’t know but we would face it together. We would find others and fight the darkness.
It wasn’t a choice; it was what was meant to be.
Mrs Kenner’s sacrifice would never be forgotten and one day every child would speak her story.
The Time Warriors and Beyond 