Chapter
37: A Pair of Jokers
“Son of ahh bitch …” Lawson overly
annunciates his words pulling his head back from the hole he’d busted through
the viewing glass. He’s pacing like the proverbial caged animal. Ian storms
angrily back through the massacre he had just created. He skitters about the
room in a frenetic rage whirling the small oxygen canister in his hand. He
doesn’t know what he is looking for all he knows is he needs something to smash
the rest of the glass with. The fog that covered his undead mind collides with
a fog of a different sort. The white smoke of hate that first drifted into his
mind during his teenage years. This fog confuses him driving a spike into his
gut demanding he feed on human flesh. Lawson snarls staring at Warden Gladstone
on one side of the room and the fat doctor laying on the other. Neither husk of
cooling meat would appease the gnawing in his gut. He knows he can’t immerse
himself in his chosen trade of murder until he feeds this new demon that has
taken up residence inside of him. “Yesssss …” He hisses stepping over the
Warden’s body slapping a socked foot in a wide sticky pool of congealing blood.
Lawson steps to the side of the door securing the soundproof room. He taps a
bloodied knuckle gently on the white metal door giggling to himself. A clap of
metal followed by the sounds of gears ratcheting. “Yes Sir …” A solid looking
guard peaks his head in. His eyes process the scene too slowly by the time the
shock registers Ian Lawson savagely smashes the tank into the back of the
guard’s head. The man hits the ground in a heap his black Kevlar helmet is
knocked from his head. Tossing the dented canister to the side Lawson grabs the
man dragging him completely into the room. He yanks the guard’s body through
the Warden’s blood creating and artistic smear across the white floor. Taking a
brief second Lawson pokes his head out the doorway to scrutinize the hallway.
He looks up and down the long white corridor he sees no other guards. “Ha …
they are short staffed tonight.” He yelps with glee slamming the door shut
hearing it lock. The zombie criminal sets about the business at hand finishing
off his next victim. He falls to his knees as if he were praying tugging back
the black jacket collar around the man’s neck. The dazed guard babbles
something incoherently laying in a heap on the floor. Lawson takes his first
bite it is utter ecstasy even as he is tearing the muscle and ligaments from
the man’s neck. Ian Lawson feels the flesh invigorate him as no drug he has
ever ingested has. Bathing in the guard’s warm arterial spray is almost a
sexual experience for Lawson. He goes in like a hyena face first for a second
hunk of human sushi. As the blood flow abates he sits chewing greedily his
entire upper torso covered in crimson. The fog of undead hunger swims away from
him as the white smoke of murderous rage retakes his mind with one word.
“Hobart …” The killer licks his lips catching a sweet cascading droplet of warm
blood. He couldn’t explain it the flesh had no taste and the blood fed not
physical hunger but he had never felt more satisfied in his life from a meal.
On the guard’s belt he catches a glimpse of something that changes his thoughts
from freedom to slaughter. A shiny blood coated set of bronze keys.
“Hey Lawson dude don’t be pissed at me man
please.” Hobart speaks through the shattered glass. “I aint know what I was
doin’ trust me bro.” The other zombie in the room pleads for forgiveness. Ian
Lawson smiles broadly his back to Hobart. “Hobart …” He starts off kneeling
down to pluck the keys up. “… You have to be the only person in the world slimy
enough to make being a damn zombie an improvement.” Hobart grits his blood
stained teeth before disappearing back into the dark void that is the viewing
room. Lawson returns to his last victim before deciding whether or not kill
Hobart the zombie guard. The sound of glass shattering fills the room as tiny
diamond Plexiglas shards pelt Ian from behind. A black folding chair bounces
off the gurney in the center of the room. He hears a roar but he can’t pinpoint
its direction. Hobart comes flying through the damaged window tackling Ian
Lawson to the floor. “Look …. “ Hobart growls from atop the man. “That punk you
knew is dead and I took his place.” Hobart bounces Lawson’s head against the
titled floor with both hands around his neck. Lawson not to be out done brings
up his hand sporting the small oxygen. The small canister pings off Hobart’s
head with an echoing crunch. Hobart flies backwards tumbling off his foe from
the weight of the blow. Lawson is on his feet seething … “I don’t know what
brought you back Hobart ...” He laughs walking up over the squirming zombie.
“This time I aims to kill you for good.” He shouts raising the bloodied oxygen
tank over his head in both hands. Hobart’s foot lashes out uncoiling into
Lawson’s groin like a cobra rupturing one of his testicles. Lawson leaves his
feet propelled over the gurney his weapon clanking across the floor. Ian’s limp
body plows a path through the blended pool of Warden Gladstone and the dead
guard’s blood on the floor. “Hope you didn’t need that bro …” Hobart laughs
like a maniac tossing his head back. His hands wander over the pulverized side
of his head and Hobart can feel the damage caused by the blow. He feels as
though he is running his hand across wet pottery shards on the left side of his
face. Lawson is on his socked feet instantly blowing spittle through clenched
viscera encrusted teeth. “You gonna suffer boy …” Lawson looks down at his feet
at the guard’s corpse seeing a black metal baton on his duty belt. “Dead or
alive I’m gonna make you feel pain bitch.” Lawson drops the keys in the blink
of an eye he has the baton launching himself at Hobart. “Hey wait!” Hobart
screams rolling across the floor to avoid his adversary. Lawson corrects his
path before Hobart can speak again the killer is lording over him. “Wait Lawson
dammit just wait!”
Hobart’s
eyes widen into orange flecked undead circles as he wait for the blow from the
baton. “You got Mather’s key bro … you got the head bull’s keys.” Hobart screams
raising his hands to block the incoming blow. “You think I give a shit …. I
don’t wanna to escape!” Lawson snarls holding the weapon cocked over his head.
“Lawson … Lawson listen you jackass.” Hobart blurts from behind his hands his
head undulating hoping to avoid being hit. “Mather was the head bull on the
block bro we don’t need to escape.” Hobart watches the tension in Ian Lawson’s
arms relax. “Lawson you can’t tell me that gnawing hunger aint settin’ back in
your gut again bro?” Lawson did feel that fog enveloping him again. He’d used
just about every illegal drug on the planet and none left a craving like this
hunger. “And?” Lawson says moving over Hobart. “And … Lawson we have just about
two hundred meat lockers stocked with human meat and you got the keys.”
Lawson’s arms go slack dropping to his waist. He’s not sure but he swears he
hungrily licks his bloodied lips while staring absently at door out of the
death chamber. Lawson scampers back over to the keys picking them up like a
prospector who’s found a nugget of gold. “Bro just down the hall out this door
is your old home and four pieces of meat for us to share. Bro that’s not even
counting the guard in the booth.” Lawson didn’t like the word “share” never
had. The first man he’d ever killed was because he used “that word.” “Let’s go
Hobart show me the way boy.” Hobart hops to his feet walking to the door. He
holds his hand before Lawson then points at the key ring. “Dude Ian you can’t
go out like that.” He scans the blood soaked orange jumpsuit. “If the guard in
the booth makes us they can lock everything down then the keys won’t work.”
Hobart scans the room “Yes” he exclaims kneeling down next to Mather. He
struggles to flip the man’s body over. “Help me strip him Lawson then you can
put on his uniform and helmet.” Hobart searches the floor finding the black
helmet laying in a corner. The two ghouls set about stripping the cold corpse
of its clothes. In a matter of minutes Lawson has covered his conspicuous gore
stained prison garb with Mather’s black uniform. “Here …” Hobart offers Lawson
the helmet. The career criminal examines the face shield before placing the
black helmet on his head. “You know Hobart I feel more natural in those blood
stained clothes than I do in this.” Ian flicks the collar of the clothes he’d
taken off his victim. “These rags make my skin crawl.” He slaps the face mask
down defiantly. “Wow you really are fucked up bro.” Hobart snorts as he places
the key in the door turning it.
From behind them they hear a clatter in the
viewing room. After looking at each other in confusion the pair split up.
Lawson swipes his baton off the floor from where he’d dropped it. Then he flips
up the face mask on the helmet. Hobart searches the floor for a weapon. He can
only find the oxygen tank Lawson had used to bash his skull in. They move low
across the floor like a pair of undead cat burglars. Lawson and Hobart find
themselves underneath the jagged hole smashed in the two way glass. Hobart
signals Lawson counting to three on his fingers. They vault up weapons at the
ready and come face to face with a slender short older man whose blond hair is
caked with blood. “Hey I killed that dude bro.” Hobart says clearly puzzled he
scratches his head. The man moans softly which escapes through a hole torn
through his right cheek. The zombies bumps carelessly into the wall ignoring
the pair. From the darkness of the viewing room a second moan rises. Two
zombies shuffle into sight coming up behind the first. “I killed them too man
seriously.” Hobart remarks looking at Lawson. “That was Jenkins ….” He points
through the hole at a tall black man outfitted in what was once his dress
uniform. The kind they only wore when the guards had visitors or on special
occasion an execution for example. “And that dude there chick there she was
like on TV or some shit. She came to see you get executed tonight.” He motions
towards the woman in the grey pants business suit that Hobart had been chewing
on. “I guess you proved her wrong huh?” Lawson slaps his forehead bewildered by
the man’s stupidity. “Dumbass don’t you see you were infected, you kill’em and
they came back as zombies.” Lawson leans in tapping an index finger into
Hobart’s forehead. Hobart blinks with each jab but he musters the courage to
speak. “Why aint they like us then smart like me and you bro?” Lawson scoffs
shaking his head. “Smart like me boy the best you could ever hope for is dull
and aware.” They watch the three walking corpses aimlessly bounce off the wall
attracted to the light like moths. “I can only guess Hobart that has somethin’
to do with you and how you got infected.” Lawson offers up not really caring
how they came to be different than the other zombies. His primary concern was
using this gift of a tortured Earth bound afterlife to his advantage. “I got
bit by this motherfucker on the way home last night. He was like slow like
these ones here.” Hobart rubs his chin. “Then when I woke up this afternoon to
come to work I felt like reheated dog shit. I barely made it to work last thing
I remember is blacking out just inside the front gate.” Hobart snaps his
fingers as if an idea and inadvertently found its way into his thick skull.
“Next thing I know bro I was walkin’ round in a fog with cotton I my brain
trying to eat folks. Another moan draws their attention back to the death
chamber. Warden Gladstone sits upright his glazed over milky orange eyes
staring off in the distance. The remains of his internal organs a half-eaten
heart, part of a lung and some over cooked pasta looking trails of intestines
slide out slapping the floor like wet mop. A tray of medical supplies topples
to the floor across the room. Doctor Luta struggles to his feet all grace of a
garage bag filled with mashed potatoes. “Hey … hey bro…” Hobart smiles his
crooked grin irritates Lawson. “You wanna have like a zombie smack down yours
verses mine?” He holds his hand up for a high five. “Hey you want me to beat
the other side of you fuckin’ head in?” Lawson chirps sarcastically. “Um …
nooooo.” Is the only thing Hobart can think to say in response. “Then shut your
stupid ass mouth Hobart.” Lawson grabs Hobart by the collar pulling him to the
door. They pass by Mather dragging his thick body off the cold tile floor. “We
will leave them here Hobart til we see if we can use them. Otherwise I aint
sharin’ none of my warm flesh with these sorry bastards.”
The two zombies walk briskly down the empty
grey hall. Walking in unison the only sound is their boot steps slapping the
cement floor. They have wiped away as much visible blood as possible. Lawson
and Hobart use the keys to enter the locked door at the end of the hallway.
“Keep your head down Lawson.” Hobart whispers as they make their way across a
short catwalk. “There are cameras trained on us.” Hobart unclips the keys from
his belt facing the door to the back of the guard’s booth that looks over death
row. Hobart readies himself nodding to Lawson who stands behind him brimming
with anticipation. Hobart opens the door like a butler ushering Lawson into the
cramped booth. “Hey are …..” The female guard sitting at the control panel
spins in her chair. The young dark haired female is pinned in place as she
meets the face of death. “I’m home honey…“ Lawson sings burring his face in the
woman neck inhaling a torn chunk of flesh. Lawson savors his prize wiping the
blood from his lips. “Move ….” Hobart brushes past his partner seeking the
still warm body like a drug addict. The woman in the chair twitches
uncontrollably as thick crimson blood bubbles up from her nose and mouth. He
rips her shirt up exposing her stomach. “I like the stringy parts.” He remarks
watching the woman’s chest heave as the life pumped from her body. Hobart tears
into the stricken woman’s stomach cavity with his teeth. Together the two
zombies go at the woman’s body like maggots burrowing deep into rotted meat.
“Hobart get up off your knees bitch.” Lawson jokes with the former guard turned
cannibal killer. Lawson stares out of the booth down the short hall lined with
three cells on either side. The white light cast by the overhead fluorescent
makes the cellblock appear bland like the basement of a bank. “One way and one
way out.” Hobart marvels eating a hunk of meat out of the palm of his hand. “Closest
thing to family I ever had resides in four of those cells down there.” Lawson
laments out loud. He reads the fairly simple control panel standing in the dead
guards entrails. “Sooooooo …” Hobart waves his hand like a bad Las Vegas
magician. Lawson slowly lowers the mask on his helmet. “So if I killed the
woman who gave birth to me when I was alive.” He flips the switch marked
“lights” bathing the whole unit in darkness. “Then the contents of the septic
warehouse aint gonna make it through the night.” Lawson holds his fingers
before his face. “My … my … Hobart have you noticed the extra added gift our
new condition has done given us?” Hobart gestures his understanding with a head
nod. The two zombies seem giddy as they realize how well they can now see in
the dark. “We take’em one at a time right partner?” Hobart speaks up from
behind Ian. Hobart reaches past Lawson who stands like a king surveying his
land. To the right a metal clicks echoes from within the door leading onto
death row. Once again Hobart pulls the door open but this time both men proceed
through side by side. The walk down the three metal steps in tandem and move
down the hall their faces obscured by shadows. “A who dat?” A voice call from a
cell as they pass by. They pass silently as if they were sizing up lobsters in
a restaurant tank. The other men are quite as if they know something is amiss.
The dark doesn’t frighten any of these men locked in their cells awaiting
death. In fact they are the reason others have grown accustomed to fearing the
dark. Waiting on death has granted each of these killers a certain sense of
peace. Tonight in this section of this prison two demons came to each condemned
man. First they pulled the peace from their petty little worlds. Then they pulled
flesh from their bones.
An evil man has found his way back from the dead and he has brought along a friend. This can't possibly bode well for the James family.
We will see you all back the week of August 18th for Chapter 38!
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The Living Dark
