Two of my friends are down in Centralia today, doing some vintage clothes and antique shopping. They decided to go because they had both noticed, seperately, that the shopkeepers at these stores in Centralia are decidedly zombie-esque, and thought they could make a good day of both bargain and zombie hunting.
The names in the story are actually their really zombie-hunting aliases, at least for the day. So in a sense, this is all based on a true story … almost.
Oh, and I just threw in the robot thing to conform to Brief Lies standards. But I think it worked out pretty well. Also, Lee really does drive a Montclair. It’s pretty. On to the story. Enjoy.
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Bring me a dream
-Ahniwa Ferrari
Megan looked at the barren town over the rims of her sunglasses, eyeing the shop-fronts warily. A small cloud of dust rose from the street as her partner, D-Rock, pulled the car to a stop alongside the abandoned curb. The door of the Montclair swung open easily, and as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, a gust of wind blew against her face and pulled against the wide brim of her hat. D-Rock swung his door shut and walked up to stand next to her. He held out both hands, offering her a choice between the shotgun and the baseball bat.
“Such a gentleman,” she said, laughing, and took the bat. Today she preferred getting a little down and dirty.
D-Rock lowered his shades and eyed her up and down. Satisfied, he smiled. “Let’s rock this apocalypse.”
Megan gripped the bat, feeling its weight. She smiled back. “Let’s rock it twice.”
Having completed their mantra, they turned to the first antique shop on the street. Though outside the sun was bright like a spaghetti western, through the window the shop looked like it was covered in dusk. Old lamps rested fitfully, clothes hung on rusted wire hangers, and box upon box of old records lined one of the walls. They couldn’t see any movement inside, but that didn’t mean anything. They were used to this gig by now.
D-Rock lined up by the door and Megan stepped in front. As he began to nod to her, her foot was already through the door, cracking the frame and knocking it off one hinge. He raised an eyebrow at her, grinned a little, and pushed it open the rest of the way.
“Not bad for a Viscountess.”
“Yes. Well it’s not all social dancing and finishing school.”
“I guess not. Damn.”
He chuckled as she entered the shop, shook his head slightly, and followed her in, shotgun up and ready as his eyes adjusted to the murky light. They proceeded slowly, eyeing every garment and item suspiciously for movement. Megan sniffed the air, scowling.
“It doesn’t smell like death in here. Something’s wrong.”
“Maybe somebody already came? Did the job?”
“Don’t be daft. We’re the only zombie-hunters in the Northwest right now.”
“What about Dahlia and – oh right … they died.”
“They always were a bit careless. We’re not. Still, I don’t like this.” Megan frowned into the dark, rear of the shop. “This is the Viscountess Megan W. O’Leontiv the Second, and my partner Double Rock Apocalypse. If there are zombies in here, come out so I can knock your fucking heads off.”
“Language…”
“I can’t be a lady all the time. Not in this line of work.”
A sudden movement from behind the counter took them both by surprise. A man bobbed up and down slightly behind the register, the skin on his face half-rotted off. A few broken teeth hung limply from his gums as he opened his mouth and tried to form a word. The only word zombies seemed to know, “B … rrrrrrr … aaaaaiiiiiiiiii … nnnnnnnn … sssssssss.”
D-Rock pumped his shotgun and took aim, but too late. Megan’s bat was a blur as it swung through the air and struck with a sound, slightly metallic “THUNK” against the side of the zombie’s head. The head ripped off from the force, sending wires and bolts flying, and then glass as it crashed through the window and rolled onto the street outside. Sparks sputtered out from the vacuous neck-hole, and metal wires waved about like errant tentacles. Out on the street, the head mumbled another half-hearted “B…rr…a…….iiiii…eeeeeee-” and went silent.
“FUCK! Fucking hell! I knew it smelled wrong, D. It’s one of those fucking amusement park towns, forgotten about and abandoned, and they left all their little gadgets and toys here to rot.”
“So no zombies?”
“Nope. Nobody to zombify. Just a bunch of robots.”
“Well, fuck.”
“You said it. Let’s get out of here. Hey, what are you doing?”
“We’re here, we might as well make the most of it. Hey, check it out, a Chordettes LP.”
“Yeah, great. Bring me a dream. Oh hey, nice shoes …”