The October Featured Writer is Alva J. Roberts

Please feel free to email Alva at: alvaroberts@hotmail.com

SPICY THAI NOODLE

by Alva J. Roberts

The pounding at the door grew louder, more frenzied. A new softer sound mixed with the pounding, it took Kevin a moment to realize that it was his own breath panting with fear. Sweat trickled down his face as he checked his shotgun.

Three shells left.

Two for the bastards at the door and one for himself.

A hand smashed through the door panel. Strips of putrid rotted flesh caught and tore off on the jagged wood. More hands tore at the door, shards of withered pine breaking away. There had to be at least two dozen of them.

Kevin lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, waiting. Aim for the head. It was the most important thing he had learned in the month since the world ended.

The door splintered into fragments and the zombies staggered through the opening. The stench of rancid flesh filled the tiny gas station bathroom as the dead lurched forward. The shotgun roared twice, in rapid succession, blood and brain matter coating the walls and ceiling.

Kevin lifted the gun to his chin, then closed his eyes, waiting for the first sickening touch of decomposing flesh. Tears stung his cheeks, cold and bitter. It was not supposed to end like this.

Kevin’s eyes snapped open as he heard a loud cracking sound. Black, fetid blood sprayed across the room as the head of one of the zombies was torn from its shoulders, its body falling limply to the floor. Something zig-zagged between the creatures, a black and white blur moving too fast for Kevin to see, killing all the zombies in its path.

Kevin stood with his mouth gaping. Corpses littered the floor in a heap of nauseating, rotting flesh.

A man stood in the middle of the pile of bodies. His black clothes stood out in sharp contrast to his skin, so pale, where it was not covered in blood, that it looked almost blue. His eyes had a strange, feral light.

Kevin took a step backward, more afraid of his savior than of his attackers.

“Who…no…what are you?” Kevin asked.

“That is an unpleasant way of thanking the man that saved your life,” the man replied, tilting his head as he spoke. He looked like a cat ready to pounce.

“I…thank you. Are you like a super hero or something?” Kevin asked, his mind leaping to the only conclusion he could think of.

“No. My name is John Lyman. I am a shepherd. And you will be joining my flock.”

“What do you mean-” Kevin’s voice cracked as he let out a shriek of horror.

Faster than Kevin could blink he was on his back, long fangs glistened a few inches from his face. A thin line of spittle trailed its way down to land on Kevin’s face.

“Enough prattle. I am hungry.” John’s face darted down to Kevin’s neck.

Pain tore through Kevin’s neck. It felt as if the monster’s fangs were piercing his soul. He was paralyzed, he could not move, could not even speak, even as the life drained from his body. The world grew darker, pulling him into a long tunnel. He was cold, numb, and knew he was dying.

*****

Kevin groaned as his eyes opened. There was a worn, wooden ceiling above him, and a hard unforgiving floor beneath him. But he was alive.

“You awake? I thought John might have killed you,” a woman’s voice said.

As memory returned Kevin sat up. He pulled away from the voices, not sure if he was getting ready to run away or fight. His hand darted to his neck, finding two small wounds on top of his jugular vein. Was that thing really a vampire? It seemed impossible.

He was in what appeared to be an old shed. The walls were made from aged, untreated pine, and a few gardening tools lay scattered in the corners. Kevin felt his old fear of enclosed spaces return. He struggled for breath, hating feeling trapped.

“I’m Beth. This is Harry and the one sleeping is Jessica. Welcome to the Pen.”

Beth was a pretty blonde woman, maybe twenty five years old. She wore dirty tattered sweats.

“The Pen? We’re in jail?” Kevin asked.

“Might as well be,” Harry replied. He was a short, pudgy man with an unkempt gray beard that reminded Kevin of Santa Claus.

“Harry, that’s no way to talk. John keeps us....” Beth’s voice broke off as they heard a strange, crunching noise, outside of the building.

“They’re outside again,” Beth whispered, her voice tight with fear.

Kevin grabbed a hoe from the wall nearest him. He recognized that noise. It was the shuffle of the walking dead.
The shed shook as something pounded on the walls.

“Oh, God! Not again.” Jessica screamed, waking from her sleep. She curled into a ball, clasping her hands tight against her ears. “Spicy tai noodle, spicy tai noodle…” she sang to herself in a hoarse whisper. Kevin recognized the radio jingle to a local restaurant.

“She’s totally lost it,” Kevin said. “Is there a way out of here?”

“You don’t get it. You just don’t get it!” Harry yelled, grabbing a shovel from the corner. “We can go out the door, but it‘s worse if you do. It’ll make ’em mad.”

“But they’ve never gotten in,” Beth added.

Great. I’m stuck in a loony bin.

One of the boards on the wall cracked. Splinters flew through the air.

“We need to get out of here! Now!” Kevin shouted, running for the door.

“No way. No freaking way,” Harry said stepping back. “Look at Jessica. She has three doctorates, she used to be a college professor. She tried escaping and look what was done to her!”

“Spicy tai noodle, get your spicy tai noodle todaaaay…” Jessica sang, rocking on the floor, drool bubbling at the corners of her mouth.

“She’s obviously had some kind of break with reality, but if we stay here, we die,” Kevin shouted, moving for the door. “I won’t be a prisoner!”

“It’s only an hour till sunset. We’ll be fine then,” Harry said, sounding unsure of what he said.

“Kevin, if we’re going to make a break for it, why don’t we take the guns?” Beth asked.

“Guns?” Kevin asked.

Beth flipped a tarp off the floor. A pile of guns and ammunition lay underneath. It was a motley collection that looked as if someone had gathered every weapon in the nearby town and thrown them in the pile.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me about these? I don’t see how he kept you captive with all these weapons.”

“They can’t hurt Johnny. Can’t hurt him. Or his Spicy Tai Noodle…” Jessica said, starting to sing the jingle over again.

Kevin picked up a shotgun and two Glocks, shoving them in the waistband of his dirty, faded, jeans. He stuffed the pockets of his jeans with more ammunition. Beth looked uncertain, but bent down to the pile and picked up a rifle and an old Colt that looked like prop from an old western movie.

“You leave and I’m locking that door behind you!” Harry screamed.

Kevin answered by opening the door and running out of the shed. Beth a few steps behind him. Zombies were all around them. The corpse of an elderly woman in a flower-print sundress raised her wrinkled, decaying arms towards Kevin. She shuffled forward on broken mangled legs.

Kevin aimed and fired the shotgun, the recoil numbing his hands. The old woman’s head exploded in a dark red cloud of blood. The shotgun blasted again and again. Beth’s rifle snapped in rapid succession, dropping three of the creatures.

When the dead walked, everyone became a marksman.

The shotgun ran out of shells, so Kevin swung it like a club, and heard the satisfying crack of a skull being smashed. He dropped the empty gun, and pulled out both of the Glocks, gripping one in each hand. They were almost through the macabre mob that surrounding the shed. The scene was bathed in an orange light. Harry had been right the sun was starting to set.

Kevin made it past the last of the creatures and sprinted ahead, risking a glance over his shoulder. Beth was right behind him. Her rifle was gone but she held the Colt with both hands.

It was not safe in the open. They needed a place to hide and to plan their next move. In a world full of zombies and vampires, spontaneity could get you killed.

Kevin saw an old farmhouse not far from the shed, but figured it would be the first place John would look. A small forest surrounded the barren fields, next to the house.

“Beth, do you know where we are? Is there a place we could hole up for the night?”

“When we tried to escape with Jessica, we found a road. It must to lead somewhere. If we go east through the woods we should be able to find it,” Beth replied. She seemed dazed, and only half aware of her words.

“Okay,” Kevin responded. He was not sure if going the same route Jessica had taken was the smartest plan, but he did not have any better ideas.

The small forest was ominous and silent, with shadows stretching long as the sun set. Kevin slowed to a jog as they enter the wooded area. The shadows made it hard to see and he did not need a sprained ankle on top of everything else. The sweat on his forehead began to dry in the cool breeze of early spring. The forest was alive with new growth, the thick foliage adding to Kevin’s sense of security. Maybe they would get away.

Kevin paused, when they reached a thick wall of hedges. After a moments hesitation he pushed through the thick green wall, tiny branches scraping and scratching his exposed skin.

Kevin stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t find it the last time,” Beth replied with a puzzled expression.

In front them, stretching as far as the eye could see, was a cemetery. It looked old, many of the tombstones were broken and cracked. But fresh mounds of earth only partially covered with grass told Kevin that the place was still in use not long ago. A huge mausoleum dominated the center of the grave yard.

“If we cut through here, we should be able to find a road. There has to be one connected to it! Watch for zombies, most of the graves here are pretty old so I don’t think it should be much of a problem,” Kevin said.

Fear churned deep within Kevin’s belly, making him nauseous. He started to sweat again, but not from exertion. They made their way through the maze of grave markers in silence, moving with soft steps, as if a hard footfall would awaken the bodies resting below the ground.

A pair of hands burst through the soil next to Kevin, reaching for his leg. He aimed his Glock at the jumbled soil and waited for the monster’s head to break the surface. Even though he expected it, he jumped backward when the undead monsters head lurched from the ground. Kevin squeezed the trigger of the Glock, feeling a sense of relived satisfaction at the bullet hole between its eyes.

More of the dirty deteriorating hands thrust upward through the soil, scratching at the dirt. The soil was hard and unyielding, slowing the animated corpses rise to the surface.

“We have to be careful, but these things can’t dig very fast. We’ll just go around them. Be ready for it and, we should be fine,” Kevin said.

The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air, he smashed through a thick, granite tombstone as he landed. A fiery pain burned through his arm, into his shoulder. He was on his back, the starry sky overhead.

“My foolish, foolish sheep. I cannot feed on these rotting corpses. What would I do if you had gotten caught?” He turned his attention to Beth. “Elizabeth, I am quite disappointed in you. There can be some excuses made for our newest lamb but you know the rules.”

“It was his idea!” Beth shrieked, then fell silent.

Kevin sat up, his whole body throbbing in pain. His left arm hung useless and slack at his side. Blood ran down his arm, dripping from his fingers, from a jagged shard of bone protruding from his bicep. John hunched over Beth’s trembling figure, his head nestled in the hallow where her shoulder met her neck. Beth’s fingers twitched and her feet kicked.

“Leave her alone bastard!” Kevin shouted emptying his Glock into the man’s back.

A hand spouted from the ground near Kevin, dirt spraying into the air. It reached out grabbing a hold of his injured arm, pulling. Kevin screamed as he felt the flesh in his arm ripping. He brought down the empty gun on to the hand, smashing the small bones in the fingers.

Kevin stumbled to his feet, jerking away from the zombie digging its way from its grave. He leaned against a nearby headstone, his eyes darting back to Beth and John.

The vampire was gone. Beth lay on the ground, unmoving, her long blonde hair splayed out beneath her, like a golden carpet. Her chest and throat were covered in dark, crimson, blood, most of her neck was gone.

Where was John?

An icy cold hand gripped Kevin’s good arm spinning his body around. John’s blood-smeared face was just inches from his own. Kevin could smell the coppery stink of fresh blood on the monster’s breath. The vampire’s eyes seemed to twirl and shimmer in the moonlight. Kevin could not help but look into the spinning orbs.

John’s mind forced itself into Kevin’s. Kevin felt icy tentacles grip his soul as the world around them fell away. The only thing Kevin could see were the hypnotizing ominous orbs. Kevin’s brain felt like it was made of glass, just a few seconds later it shattered, the jagged shards of his mind tearing through his entire being.

*****

He felt the hard wood of the shed’s floor beneath him. He could not move, could not speak, a prisoner in his own body. A low moan escaped his lips, then nothing.

“Harry, I am glad to see that at least one of my flock appreciates my protection. See to his needs. Beth will not be returning.”

John disappeared in a blur of motion.

“I told you not to go,” Harry said accusingly wiping the spittle that dribbled from the corner of Kevin’s mouth.

Kevin tried to form a reply, tried to tell Harry to kill him, but could not spit out the words. Instead he heard himself sing in a hoarse whisper “Spicy thai noodle, get your spicy thai noodle…”

Alva J. Roberts (pronounced Al-Vee J. Roberts) lives in Western Nebraska with his wife and dog. When he is not writing he works as librarian and helps is wife with her small press (Pill Hill Press). For a full listing of his published works and a few free stories visit: http://alvajroberts.blogspot.com/