Valley of Death, Zombie Trailer Park (© William Bebb)
Page 3 Some people back at the office referred to the giant septic
tank draining trucks as 'honey wagons' but he never did. It seemed pointlessly
stupid. Draining septic tanks wasn't his first career choice but it was a job.
A job he didn't really mind doing, usually, and yet as he walked back to check
on the jackrabbit he wondered how his life ever came to this point. Standing in the middle of nowhere on a deserted road
listening to the septic tank contents sloshing around from the sudden
unexpected stop, Josey sighed. He didn't bother holding his breath as he
continued back to the rear of the truck. Of course, he rarely noticed the aroma
anyway. His sense of smell was so bad he usually had to tell by other people’s
expressions when he needed a shower. It was just another perk of having driven
a septic tank truck for the last three years. In the pale predawn, Josey saw the lump of fur just a few
yards behind the truck. He swallowed hard and walked slowly closer. His hands
shook as a part of his mind feared that the animal might leap up and bite him,
giving him some nasty disease (maybe even rabies). He gripped the cold crowbar
tightly but was ready to run back to the cab of his truck should it attack. In the dim red glow of the taillights and the pale predawn
it was hard for him to see the body very well. He reached out to poke the furry lump with the crowbar
before remembering the small flashlight in his coveralls pocket. Backing up a
step, he pulled it out and clicked it on. The white light shined on the cold black dusty asphalt. It
illuminated a small shockingly bright red stream of blood flowing from the
furry lump. But was it still alive? He
wondered, following the trail of blood with the beam of light until it showed a
mass of pink intestines and fur. He felt his stomach bucking as his breakfast shot out his
mouth. His whole body shuddered and shook as he vomited uncontrollably for
several agonizing seconds. He turned off the flashlight while continuing to
lose his breakfast. Some things, like vomiting, are best done in darkness. At
least it's not as bad as throwing up drunk, he thought. Before adopting his current profession, Josey briefly
attended a university and knew all too well the unpleasantness associated with
throwing up while drunk. A Toga party hosted by the football boosters was both
the first and last time he'd ever gotten seriously drunk. He'd spent the
afternoon at practice and by the time the coach let the team go the party was
already in full swing. Most of the guys went straight to the festivities, but
the smart ones ate something before they began drinking. Josey had not been one of the smart ones. As a result of being raised in a strict Southern Baptist
family, he'd been denied an education in alcohol that most of his Methodist
friends were privy to. When he was a teenager, a big time with alcohol was
limited to occasionally drinking a mixture of cough syrup and ginger ale. His friends called the vile tasting concoction a Dr. Shirley
Temple. It was a nasty excuse for a cocktail, but on the plus side
he never minded being home sick with a cold when he was a kid. At the toga party he wore a large, mostly white, bed sheet
with a few stains (the origins of which were best not considered.) Josey made
up for a wasted nonalcoholic childhood and tried a little bit of everything.
The football boosters had set up tables with nearly every kind of liquor he
could imagine and not a single cough syrup bottle was in sight. It was
paradise. A large mug of white wine was followed by a few shots of
tequila, vodka, scotch, and gin, plus several plastic cups of beer from a keg
were the last things he vaguely recalled about that night. It wasn’t until several hours later that he realized
drinking vast quantities of different types of alcohol on an empty stomach was
not a particularly good idea. The next day, his friend Al showed him a video of
his exploits from the night before that he'd uploaded to the Internet. Josey
didn't remember standing on a table shouting that he was Zeus, but the video
didn't lie. The vivid color quality was quite impressive as it showed him
projectile vomiting on various football booster businessmen (most of whom were
wearing very expensive looking suits) that had also attended the toga party. [ Continue to page 4 ] |