Zomopolis

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The round glass light fixtures hanging from the diner’s ceiling threw rainbows of brilliant color across the plain white rectangular ceiling tiles. The echo of shuffling footsteps followed by a sharp grunt made her tense.

She was about to become the main course on the brain-only diet plan.

A swish, a snap followed by a yelp of surprise, announced something dropped heavily next to her on the cool tile. In Aloha’s foggy mind she sensed the human-shape had to be the hungry zombie. The smell of rotten fruit confirmed her realization.

Finally her aching lungs managed to draw in a sharp breath of air. She tried to speak. “What —” Her voice dropped to a hiss.

She cleared her throat and tried again, but no words came out. If she looked up the definition of the word frustration she was certain her picture would be there.

“It’s ok, sheriff, don’t try to talk.” Her vision and her mind had begun to clear so when she looked up the handsome dimpled, tanned features of Hanson Braddock were kneeling over her came into focus. A loop of dark curls fell across his slightly wrinkled forehead above hazel eyes that brimmed with genuine concern.

She nodded and took in several deep breaths. The light-headedness due to oxygen deprivation slowly dissipated and her faculties gradually returned.

Aloha sat upright relieved she had regained control over her arms and legs. She wiggled her toes to help increase circulation and looked around to find the zombie lying face down on the tiled floor next to her with a rope securing its ankles. It lay unmoving, but seemed to be breathing, evidenced by the rise and fall of its back.

It was out. But it sure must’ve hit the floor hard. Aloha winced. Ouch.

“What happened?” She finally managed to croak. She coughed to clear her throat. A sense of relief came over her because her throat felt better.

Hanson stood up his lean, muscular frame sending shivers through Aloha. The restaurants owner was all man and incredibly sexy. His mouth formed a grin deepening the dimples on his cheeks and his hazel eyes sparkled. “I was a cowboy in my former life.” He hooked his thumbs off the front pockets of his tight jeans. “I used to be pretty good with a rope.”

“It seems you still are.” Aloha held out one hand and Hanson’s large, warm, firm hand engulfed hers as he helped her stand. Once on her feet she reluctantly released his hand. Man, was he strong.

“You two make a cute couple.” Aloha turned to glare at old man McDok still seated in the red leather booth grinning at them. It pleased her when he shriveled and dropped his eyes to his table under her disapproving gaze.

“Ya think so?” Hanson said cheerily.

Aloha faced Hanson as her features relaxed. Her cheeks must be as red as a slice of ripe watermelon.

“Hey, sheriff.” Elvis came up to them the net gun loosely gripped in his meaty fingers. “You okay?”

Relieved by the distraction Aloha snatched the net gun out of Elvis’ hands before he could protest. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

She scanned the guns faux wood stock and immediately spotted the problem. Elvis had left the safety on.

“Elvis! My brain could have been eaten.” She demonstrated the weapons safety by flicking it on and off with her thumb.

The corners of the big man’s eyes drooped and he avoided her glare by looking at the zombie. The zombie grunted as it woke from its dreamless sleep. At least she hoped for its sake it was dreamless.

She stole a glance at Hanson and thought she saw a flash of disapproval from him at the way she spoke to Elvis. “Oh, never mind. Why don’t you take the zom to the holding area?” She raised a single eyebrow at him.

Elvis met her gaze as his expression brightened. He nodded then leaned over and grabbed the zombie’s right arm in his meaty fingers and pulled it to its feet. The zombie stood, its shoulders slumped and emitted a low growl. The undead creature pulled at Elvis’ grip trying to break loose.

Elivs’ knuckles whitened as he tightened his hold. “We’ll have none of that, zom. You better come along quietly if you know what’s good for ya.” The deputy patted the canister of zom-repelled spray on his belt; it was like the one she had affixed to hers.

Aloha flinched. Oh, man. She forgot about the spray.

The zombie’s expression changed to a mixture of fear and timid submission and he stopped pulling. Zombie’s hated the new spray. Not that she blamed them.

A week ago the town’s major employer, the Totally Zip Corporation, had issued her and Elvis with an experimental spray repellent that stopped attacking zombie’s by freezing them like statues. In the sales pitch video she’d seen the zombie test subject’s eye movements indicated the undead creature’s senses were still active after it was frozen. This meant it knew it was helpless.

Aloha shuddered as she recalled the pitiful whimpering of the frozen test subject as it strained to move. And, the cry of pain when the lab technician broke the zom’s left arm to demonstrate how helpless the undead subject had become under the spray’s influence.

And how horrified she was when she read the instruction pamphlet which stated that side effects to the subject include possible prolonged skin irritation, headache and vomiting, watery eyes and, in extreme cases, the subject’s skin melted off to become a puddle of primordial goo.

Subject is such a dehumanizing term. Aloha preferred to think of the zom’s as victims. After all, zombies used to be people too.

The pamphlet went on to assure the customer that death after the using zom spray was extremely unlikely.

Yeah, right. Like when a building collapses on your head it’s extremely unlikely you’ll be crushed. Get real.

Hanson knelt down next to the zombie’s feet and removed the lasso from round his ankles. “You need any help getting it to the corral, deputy?”

“It’s not an it! It’s a person.” Aloha spat her words indignantly eliciting slack jawed looks from both Hanson and Elvis. Even the zombie looked surprised by the fierceness of her reaction.

Aloha cheeks again grew warm. She lowered her voice, “Huh, sorry. I meant to say zombies are people first and brain-munching monsters second.” Elvis and Hanson looked at each other then shrugged in unison.

Aloha looked at her Timex. “I’ve gotta go. I’m late for my meeting with the mayor.” Not waiting for a response she spun around intending to make a dramatic exit, but slipping on the tiles and waving one’s arms about like a mad chicken wasn’t her idea of dignified.

Finally she managed to stumble out the door to the sidewalk and realized she hadn’t taken a breath in several minutes. She finally took in a deep breath and immediately dizziness gripped her. Car horns and the rush of tires on pavement from the traffic sounded louder than normal.

A sudden burst on an air horn made her look to her left in time to see the wide chrome grill of a large delivery truck careening toward her VW Beetle patrol car where she left it parked at the curb.

Through the windshield of the truck she could see the driver’s panicky face and wide eyes. Her white knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel as she struggled but failed to regain control of the out of control truck. The air brakes locked followed by the hiss the air bleeding out and the smell of burning rubber permeated the air as trucks tires laid a strip of black rubber behind them.

Aloha realized when the truck rear ended her sheriff’s car it would drive the small car over the sidewalk right into where she now stood. And she knew she would have no time to react.

Why did this remind her of the old joke about what is the last thing that goes through a flies mind when it hits a windshield?

Geez, I hope my butt doesn’t taste funny if that ever happened to me.

She closed her eyes and cringed as she heard a loud bang followed by the screech of metal on metal.