{"id":1446,"date":"2015-06-16T12:47:48","date_gmt":"2015-06-16T19:47:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/?p=1446"},"modified":"2015-06-16T12:47:48","modified_gmt":"2015-06-16T19:47:48","slug":"neverending-november","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/2015\/06\/16\/neverending-november\/","title":{"rendered":"Neverending November"},"content":{"rendered":"

Postaday for June 16th:\u00a0Turn, Turn, Turn<\/a>\u00a0Seasons change so quickly! Which one do you most look forward to? Which is your least favorite?<\/em><\/p>\n

Neverending November<\/strong><\/p>\n

fiction by Jason Edwards<\/em><\/p>\n

There I was at Jay\u2019s Alley, minding my own business, not botherin\u2019 nobody. Eatin a greasy cheese burger and a basket of limp french fries. Kind of a rough day. Lucinda callin\u2019 me every few hours, screamin\u2019 \u201cChild Support!\u201d into the phone and hangin\u2019 up. I just needed some time to myself, a few minutes of peace, right?<\/p>\n

And then one of \u2018em shows up, and then another, and then one more. Zombies, all dirty and blood crusted and moanin\u2019, green skin and open sores, the whole works. Bangin\u2019 against the front door. Jay himself did the usual, dropped the security bar so they couldn\u2019t get through. Me and three other guys in the little bowlin\u2019 alley restaurant, nobody makes much of a move.<\/p>\n

But the noise. They keep pounding on the door and moanin\u2019 like I said. And I\u2019ve been in this situation before. This can go on for hours. So, what the hell. I get up, I grab my shottie, I step out the emergency door, and unload. Take off one head, then another, and the third one I aim low, cut \u2018im in half. But he\u2019s still pullin\u2019 himself around with his hands, like they do, so I walk over and stomp his skull with my boot heel. \u2018Cause, you know, ammo is expensive.<\/p>\n

I go back inside to what\u2019s left of my greasy burger and my limp fries.<\/p>\n

Jay himself walks over to me. Filthy apron, fat nose, receding hairline. One arm on his hip, the other cut off and cauterized at the elbow, a zed attack gone bad several years ago. And he\u2019s glarin\u2019 somethin\u2019 fierce.<\/p>\n

“Now what did you go and do that for. They wasn\u2019t hurtin\u2019 nobody.”<\/p>\n

“I\u2019m tryin\u2019 to eat here.”<\/p>\n

“Well what are folks goin\u2019 to think? Pile of dead zeds by my front door? That\u2019s bad for business.”<\/p>\n

“So, city\u2019ll pick \u2018em up.”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, in two or three days. I say you killed \u2018em, you move \u2018em.”<\/p>\n

“Fat chance, man.”<\/p>\n

“Asshole.”<\/p>\n

And he walks off.<\/p>\n

My phone rings in my pocket. Lucinda again, probably. That\u2019s all I need. I ignore it. We used to get into such fights, especially after the zombies showed up. A real liberal, that Lucinda. Voted for all three Clintons, you know. Me, I went to the rallies, say we should burn \u2018em all. And Lucinda\u2019s like, \u201cRemember when people hated the blacks? And the gays? How\u2019s this any different?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCause ain\u2019t nobody ever turned black or gay from gettin\u2019 bit, ya dumb hippie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still, it was good for a few years. Little Charlie came along. And then things didn\u2019t work out, I guess. Child support, my ass. I been out of a job for 6 months. Besides\u2026<\/p>\n

Anyway. Last bite of my greasy burger. One more limp french fry. I fish out a cigarette, light up, sip my warm beer. This town wasn\u2019t ever anything spectacular. But if you had a job, and a car, and a woman, and a kid, it was okay. Winters were cold and summers were hot, springs was always too wet. But fall could be nice. The leaves and blue skies and all that. I used to like Halloween, when I was a kid myself. Around here, you could still put on a costume and go around to the houses, not have to worry about perverts or gang bangers.<\/p>\n

And then some asshole in a lab squirts the wrong solution into a dead body. Or maybe it was some asshole with a holy book who reads one of the scriptures backwards. Or some asshole with a bad flu steps into a nuclear reactor. I don\u2019t know. All I know is, Halloween went real and the zeds started wandering around. And at first it was scary, and then it was fun and games with the shotties and the machetes, and then it was a pain in the ass with the equal rights and the god damned liberals, and now, well, now it\u2019s just tedious and stupid. I\u2019d kill myself if the thought wasn\u2019t so boring.<\/p>\n

I put out the butt of my smoke. I could have another one, but those things\u2019ll kill ya. Stand up, go for my shottie, but the phone rings again. I decide to answer it. \u201cWhat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cChild support.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s dead, Lucinda. I ain\u2019t payin you nuthin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe ain\u2019t dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA zed got \u2018em a two years ago. He\u2019s as good as dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care. State says, no DC, he ain\u2019t dead. You owe me three thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yeah? Come \u2018n get it.\u201d I hang up on her this time. My phone starts to ring again, immediately. I let it ring. Pick up my shottie, walk over to the exit. Go through.<\/p>\n

Jay\u2019s outside, tryin\u2019 to pull the zeds away from the door. Poor guy, one arm and all. You\u2019d think he\u2019d hate them more than me. But I feel bad for him. I prop my gun up against the wall and go over to help.<\/p>\n

\u201cI got it, man,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I know you do.\u201d I grab a dead zed hand, drag it over near the dumpsters.<\/p>\n

We get \u2018em taken care of, stand there for a second under the gray sky. Been cloudy for a long time now. I shouldn\u2019t complain. Summer\u2019s aint so hot, winter\u2019s ain\u2019t so cold. Still. Sunshine would be nice, especially if I gotta take calls from my crazy ex and eat shitty food and drag zombie corpses all over the place. Whatever.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I say. \u201cI\u2019ll see ya.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

I start to walk away, Jay goes back into his little restaurant. I\u2019m halfway across the parking lot, and I see another crowd of \u2018em. Four or five zeds this time. Why do they shuffle around in groups, I wonder. They\u2019re following an old lady. She\u2019s got a trot in her step, so I guess she\u2019s seen \u2018em. Probably waiting for the bus, poor thing. And the zombies come along, and now she\u2019s got to run back home, wait for the next one. I could take \u2018em out, even though, technically it\u2019s illegal. Technically, marijuana\u2019s still illegal. But ain\u2019t nobody been busted in at least a decade. I never heard of anyone doing time for takin\u2019 out a zombie mob, especially one that was chasin\u2019 an old lady.<\/p>\n

But, like I said, ammo\u2019s expensive. And she\u2019s okay. Probably one of those bleeding hearts. One of those liberals with a t-shirt that says Zombies Were People Too. Please. Get what you deserve. I move on.<\/p>\n

And then there\u2019s a loud bang. And another one. And two more. Comin\u2019 from Jays\u2019 place. I heft my shottie and run back lickety split.<\/p>\n

Bust in through the door. The smell of cordite and saltpeter, and sharp green mold, and heavy grease. Two guys standing over a pile of zeds, third guy on the bottom of \u2018em. The two got their hand guns out, the third guy\u2019s lost most of his insides. Its a mess. One of the fellers looks at me, shrugs, sits down and goes back to his bowl of chili. The other one\u2019s on his phone, callin\u2019 it in to the city.<\/p>\n

And then I hear it, from the kitchen. \u201cAw, God damnit.\u201d Jay\u2019s voice. I walk back there.<\/p>\n

Kitchen door\u2019s busted wide open, leadin\u2019 to the back alley. Jays sittin\u2019 on the floor, a huge chunk of his remaining arm is gone. It\u2019s already turning black, dark green on the edges. There\u2019s a body with it\u2019s head shoved in the fryer, and the smell is somethin\u2019 terrible.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod damnit,\u201d Jay says again.<\/p>\n

I walk over to him, crouch down, peer at the wound. I\u2019ve seen it\u2019s like before. We all have. \u201cLooks pretty bad,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, yeah. Can\u2019t cauterize this one, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess not.\u201d<\/p>\n

We sit there for a bit.<\/p>\n

Finally, he says, \u201cThere\u2019s some cash in the register.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, I know you got a few shots left. Take care of me, and you can have what\u2019s in the register for the ammo.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sigh. Jay\u2019s burgers were greasy, and his french fries were limp, and his beers were warm. But what, I\u2019m supposed to walk over to Chez Richie Rich? I was going to miss the old bastard. \u201cOkay,\u201d I say. \u201cYou got your DC on you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Despite the obvious pain, he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet. Tosses it to me. I open it up, pull out his Death Certificate. Poor guy.<\/p>\n

I heft my shottie. \u201cAny last w-\u201d I say, and pull the trigger. Damn loud in the small space. I check the time, fill out his DC, leave it next to him.<\/p>\n

And walk out, ignore the register. Ya see that? A shitty day turned shittier.<\/p>\n

Outside, I half expect to see the city trucks, but Jay was right\u2014 they\u2019ll be around in a few days, maybe. I walk on home. I\u2019m spent is what I am. I have one round left, though. When my phone rings again, I pull it out, drop it on the ground, and blast it.<\/p>\n

Back at my place, I go inside, drop the security bar down, close the reinforced shutters, settle in for the night. I try the TV, but it\u2019s more crap about rallies and marches and bullshit. Grab a warm beer from my fridge. Pull out my own wallet.<\/p>\n

My own death certificate, signed and ready to go, just in case. And my son\u2019s. Charlie\u2019s. Filled it out the day it happened. Had to take his head off myself. Still can\u2019t bring myself to file it with the city, or show it to Lucinda. Sometimes I think the way she screams at me is the only thing that keeps us goin\u2019. Guess I\u2019ll have to get a new phone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Postaday for June 16th:\u00a0Turn, Turn, Turn\u00a0Seasons change so quickly! Which one do you most look forward to? Which is your least favorite? Neverending November fiction by Jason Edwards There I was at Jay\u2019s Alley, minding my own business, not botherin\u2019 nobody. Eatin a greasy cheese burger and a basket of limp french fries. Kind of … <\/p>\n

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