All you gotta do is smile and smile…

-Dolly Parton

Merrillville, Indiana-

Although I really didn’t like staying in the diner, most of the people there were making too much of a fuss out of the situation. One lady kept going into the small women’s restroom (GALS) because she said she felt safer not being seen though the big windows. That was annoying me, and she would get hysterical if anyone brought any problems to her attention. Maybe it was her husband’s lecturing. After ten minutes or so, she would creep out of there and be all collected again. That is until someone said something to set her off, and then her dramatics would flare-up all over. She eventually pissed her pants and I wanted to ask her if she was taking meds, but, as always, I really didn’t want to get involved. Ironically, she let herself go in the dining area.

Despite wishing Restroom- Woman would leave, I could deal with her. I was really thankful, however, that the local-type boys lounging in the corner booth decided to take off. They were pretty big and there were four of them with a couple of their girlfriends. All of them were really loud and were talking angrily. Even their girls were angry-sounding when they were laughing (cackling?). They were probably drunk or high-or both? Since I try to keep to myself, those group-types sometimes like to pick on me or even try to fight with me. It’s probably because I often forget that they can see me and I might stare at them for an “uncomfortably” long time. At this time, I had to be really careful because one of their girlfriends was beautiful and I kept looking at her boobs. I thought they were fake, but I made sure to look away as much as possible. If I had failed to do this, I could fall into a fantasy and then the group would have caught me peeping on her for certain.

We couldn’t leave the diner because the police came by and said that there was a possible issue in the area, and that no one should panic, but it was best for public safety if we remained indoors. I was sort of expecting something like this sooner or later. For the past month or so, there were reports on the news about all these people going into some kind of trance and attacking other people. I have free cable at the apartment where I am staying because of the HD-turnover, and CNN began to focus on the issue more and more until it was scrolling the same news over and over. I am a night-shift janitor at an office complex, and personally, I haven’t seen any of these “maniacs”, except in some pixilated amateur videos. I never saw any al-Qaeda either, so I just figured it was another hot-topic they were exaggerating so people would stay tuned-in. By and by, the news attributed it to some strain of rabies from Africa or somewhere. A few of my neighbors even moved away because they were concerned about living so close to Chicago. I feel I have no good reason to move away right now, so I am more than content to stick around there for awhile longer. Free cable is good like that. My Soviet-American styled apartment bloc got pretty barren by the first of the month, and I figured that was kind of nice. Nice enough, in my opinion.

The cops -their handling of the situation was probably the root of Restroom-Woman’s panic. They huffed in the place sporting full-urban riot gear about ten strong. At first I thought it might have had something to do with me, but I knew it was a public service job when they fanned -out around the entrance. I tried to look at them as much as possible during their announcement, but mostly, I kept looking at my empty pie-plate instead. After they said their piece and set up a perimeter in the diner’s parking lot -plus the highway exit, the group of boys began carrying on and shouting drunken complaints (”This is bullshit!” ;“Fuck this!”) -then headed out the front doors. I was expecting to hear sub-gun pops but all I could make out was a few barks and a couple of “Hey! You can’t do that’s!” That was when I realized maybe there really was bigger fish to fry. I too was momentarily tempted to make like the locals, but since there was only one of me, I knew I’d get stopped and have to deal with a bunch of nosey police-questions. I don’t particularly hate police or anything like that, but ever since my “incident”, I get really nervous around them because of my record.

OK, about a year ago I had to go to jail for awhile. It was only for stealing a car, but I was locked-up for eight months. Jail isn’t too bad and it’s not at all as seen in the movies or on TV. For instance, no one raped me and no one picked a fight. Actually, I kind of liked it because I realized, after a while, that I could regroup and take a break and think about what to do next. As part of our sentences, we had to take these rehabilitation classes so we could gain points toward good behavior and hopefully get out sooner if we did well. Miss Madeline was our teacher/counselor and we would go over all kinds of common- sense issues like getting a job, staying off drugs and getting an education, etc. I didn’t feel that I really needed any of the classes because I always had some kind of job, I graduated from college and I don’t like drugs. One really cool lesson that she went over with all of us was about “personal inventory”. Mainly, that meant, what were all of your positive qualities and what were some of the areas you felt needed improvement. We all liked Miss Madeline because she would joke around with us and nothing ever seemed like a big deal. I guess it was because she always smiled. So, I found some value in her. In the class, I had to give her a phony list of my qualities and issues, but later on, I made my own list. My real personal inventory is:

Positive Qualities:

1. I have brown hair.
2. I am of average height (5’10”) and weight.
3. I am quiet.
4. I have no style.
5. I am polite to people.
6. I am white.
7. I have an education.
8. My name is common and kind of boring.
9. I know how to blend.
10. I know how to become invisible.

Things to Remember:

1. Always have some kind of job.
2. Wear a hat when you go on a troll.
3. Live alone.
4. Save money, if possible.
5. Speak with some “feeling”.
6. Remember where you are and how to leave if you need to.
7. Be careful of your fibers and hairs.
8. Stay sober.
9. Don’t hang with criminals.
10. Remember to smile.

When I was a little boy, my mom used to play Dolly Parton records and I always liked the song “Here You Come Again”. Sometimes she would sing along with it and I would laugh. “All you gotta do is smile and smile, and something, something, and something… “Then dad would tell us to knock it off and they would start-up again. I’d hide. Dad would call her “Tits Parton”. Dolly always seemed like she would be a really nice lady, and it would make me mad with him disrespecting her like that, but as I got older, I understood what he meant. I guess I like tits too.

After the boys left, and while Restroom-Woman was “rest-rooming”, people were gawking out the window into the night and trying to make some sense of what was happening out there. A little kid in a Cubs hat kept whining about “wanting to see one” and his dad reassured him that he “certainly did not”. However, Dad didn’t seem to follow his own advice as he was rubbernecking with the rest of the crowd. They annoyed me too. Outside, there really was nothing much to see beyond the lights of the police vehicles and cordon equipment. One trooper was picking his nose. Soon, most of the crowd was disappointed with the bootleg-lightshow and decided to take their places in the diner. Everyone sat close to each other, so I figured that I should play the part and get with the program too. Anyway, I wanted to find out what was going on so I could get out of there as soon as possible (see point number 6, list 2).

She sat in the booth next to mine. I was kind of worried that she would, but I half expected it because I noticed her staring at me before all the festivities occurred. Since I wasn’t on a troll, I wasn’t mentally prepared for anyone to bother me. Always seems to happen that way. She was the typical kind of girl that I attract, yet I still can’t figure out why. A flashy type-a party-girl. Why this type of female ever shows the slightest interest in me boggles my mind because I certainly don’t look like the kind of guy that she could relate to. One of them (a bartender), once said she thought I looked like a poet and she had a “thing” for poets. However, I don’t like poetry.

She smiled politely and I made sure to smile too (see point number 10, list 2). It wasn’t too difficult to turn my head and get into the swing of the group’s conversation about what was happening. Most of the people felt that it was best to listen to the police and stick around until there was an “all clear”. All I really wanted to do was catch a bus and get back to my apartment. But most likely, the buses were not allowed in or out of the cordon, so that was doubtfully an option. Were the buses still running anywhere, anyway? I wished I were still allowed to drive.

Pee-pee Lady’s husband was the most vocal of the crowd about what was really going on. Amid all the theories that I was made privy to in that diner, he had the most to work with for some reason. Aside from the police, it was no wonder his wife was a dribbling wreck. Some of the people there had heard that it was all a terrorist operation. Some were debating whether or not it began in China or Africa. A Polish guy claimed he never saw one either and that the American police would sort everything out. For some reason I thought he was pretty cool and he calmed my nerves. They all blended together for the most part, though, like most people do. Pee-pee Lady freaked out and ran for the restroom again when her husband spouted his theory that it wasn’t rabies, but flesh-eating cannibals. With that, I actually turned to my new “girlfriend” and we both rolled our eyes in unison. I smiled.

After Hubby’s soapbox-declaration and resulting argument died-down, the Polish guy suggested we turn on the news to see if any local stories had developed. CNN, Fox, even WGN-same old crap. No local information. That stoked Hubby’s mood even more and he shared with the diner yet another theory he had heard -that these cannibals were actually the reanimated bodies of the dead. Like science fiction ghouls impervious to damage except for head trauma. He was promptly met with a“Bullshit!” from a fellow patron, and that’s when Pee-pee Lady earned her name. I really wanted to do something about him.

Time to warm-up. Her name was Heidi. I told her my real name. As far as party-girls went, she was pretty tolerable. Usually I get lots of sexual confrontation, tension, or aggression out of them when I am not prepared for it. But this one was pretty inviting. We both had the shared circumstance of being stuck and I felt a common ground. She was really pretty too and that was helpful. Nice boobs and a snaggled incisor that she would flash when she smiled. Females with flawed teeth are a plus in my book. After some time talking about our situation, I felt comfortable enough to ask her if she had any idea about getting out of the diner. She said that she could arrange that, and just as long as I stuck close to her, all we had to do was walk out the door. Easy. This made me feel good and I believed her. We got up, made it to the double doors of the diner, and simply walked out. All the other people inside were yelling at us. I put my hat on and I smiled.

This party-girl was really good at handling the police. As I had predicted, she used her sexuality to help augment whatever bullshit sob-story she was telling them. In no time at all, the commanding officer of the cordon let her off with a wink and a smile. No ID-checks, no sobriety checks, no problems-nothing. She grabbed my hand and led me to her Honda Hydrus-a really nice and new walnut-colored one. The troopers simply flagged the traffic warden to let us through the blockade, past the exit, and soon, we were gliding through the late- night guts of suburbia.

That had always made me jealous-a pretty woman’s ability to get in or out of things. I usually don’t have a problem squeaking by when I decide to blend, but women do it differently. They have to when they are as pretty as Heidi. Beauty never goes by unnoticed, so they can work with it in their favor. It seems so much more glamorous than my personal tactics. Sometimes I secretly wish I were a girl so I could see what it would be like-to feel the satisfaction out of getting away Scot-free just by heaving my breasts or pouting. I’m not gay or anything like that, though.

Her car was a different story on the inside-a total wreck. Camel boxes, cigarette butts and old CD’s. Dashboard toys littered the car and hung from everywhere. The dashboard itself was wallpapered with bumper stickers of devil girls and one that said “Lez-Bi-Tanik”- among other sexual witticisms. Aside from all of that, there were Taco Bell wrappers and cups flooding the back seat. I thought I saw an empty bottle of Goldschlager among the mess. Taco Bell!-All American slut food. Why do party-girls always eat Taco Bell? My best guess is because it’s the only drive-thru open after the bars and clubs close. That or White Castle, but Sliders are disgusting. I checked to make sure I wasn’t sitting on a sour-creamy burrito wrapper. Why would anyone treat such a beautiful car like that? If I had it, I certainly wouldn’t. Not surprisingly, she lit-up within minutes.

Sometimes I get confused and I come across as kind of stupid, so I made sure to pay really close attention to her stories as we drove on through the night. I didn’t pay attention, however, to where we were going, but she was more interested in talking about herself than deciding on a destination. Party-Girl said she was a dancer at the titty-bar over in Lake Station. She was going on about how she was planning to go to college with all the money, but I somehow doubted that any of it would ever reach a bursar’s office. I told her that I was an airline mechanic at Midway (lie) and that I had a degree from IU (true). I didn’t want to explain to her why I am a janitor with a degree because I frankly didn’t have an explanation other than it being a parole requirement. Besides, I didn’t want her to think that I was stupid if I wound-up going blank. She said smart guys were sexy and that made me a bit nervous. I often forget that someone could find me attractive because I know how to become invisible. She told me she was married twice-once for a year and once for three months. She interrogated me as to why I wasn’t married at my age (no ring?), and I told her I “just missed the boat”. She said that was no kind of an answer. During our talk, though, I did learn some important stuff:

Things to Remember:

1. She wasn’t married.
2. She was an independent contractor.
3. She was an only child.
4. She didn’t speak to her folks anymore.

Our conversation turned to the “rabies” situation, and Party-Girl said she thought she noticed fewer lights on the buildings lately. I really didn’t notice because I thought most buildings turned their lights off after close, but then again, I always keep the auxiliary power on when I’m working. Maybe she was right. She went on about some kind of vaccine for the rabies that the drug companies supposedly are releasing, and how she wanted to get a hold of some-just in case. As we drove, she pointed out that I-65 was packed moving away from Chicago, but was practically bare going toward it. I looked over at the expressway and she was definitely right about that. All this talk was giving me the willies and I began to imagine shadows moving within shadows along the neighborhoods. I wondered, for a moment, if I still have a job come tomorrow night. She said her club was still running as of last night, but she felt safe there since there were no windows and they had a bunch of big bouncers that she was tight with. I had to hold back asking how many of them she fucked because I didn’t want to lose my ride.

I went blank again-fantasy-time. I knew this when I heard her call me “Space-case”. Quickly, I made a save and told her that it had been a weird night for me, and I made sure I said it with some flair (see point number 5, list 2). I smiled. She told me that tonight was by no means the weirdest she’s ever had, and for some reason, I could see why she’d say that. We both agreed we were tired of driving aimlessly and she wanted to know if we could go back to my place. For whatever party-girl reason, she thought I was cute and that I had made some sort of impression on her. So I said “OK”.

My block was totally dark. Although it was the middle of the night, there were usually a few night-owl neighbors milling about. We got into my flat and the whole place seemed totally surreal. Like when you come home from a long trip and you have to readjust to your surroundings. I talked with Party-Girl for some time and she said she wanted to get high. I said OK, but I didn’t inhale the weed because I hate drugs and I didn’t want to get confused (point number 8, list 2). She looked at my old CD’s and said she didn’t like any of my music and I told her my iPod had the same kind of stuff. She asked if she could take a shower and I said it was cool. After what seemed like an eternity, she came back out. I almost forgot she was there while I watched the news for any developments. They announced the vaccine that she was talking about. Big Money, I’ll bet. She was naked and still wet from the shower. She stood in the bathroom doorway proudly displaying her bald and tan dancer-body, and I knew I was going blank again- but I didn’t care. Her tits were perfect and these were real -unlike the girl at the diner. She giggled a bit, and then she asked:”Umm…do you wanna fuck?” I smiled.

!!!

The party-girl body is in the bathtub. Normally, I’d have her on the bed. I know it’s nothing inventive; I usually just use rope, chloroform, and duct-tape. Really clean stuff -no clown makeup or chainsaws for me. If ever I got caught, I would only be a footnote on CrimeLibrary.com. This time I made a bit of a mess afterward because I bashed her forehead in with a hammer I have lying around. I did this because I kept thinking about what the Hubby said in the diner. Just in case. She had to have been the third stripper I trolled. “Suffer not the Witch to live”. I keep thinking of this line. I think it’s from a movie or a video game I once played. I don’t even believe in God or anything, but if He exists, I suppose I’m going to be in big trouble.

As I go out on the balcony, I look out into the night. It should be light in an hour or so. Sirens are going off more than usual- but I know none of them are for me. Like I said, the police have bigger fish to fry now. Things are looking up and I think I will stick around here for awhile. I’m calling off work for tomorrow night. For now, I smell the breeze of the early morning night and hear its faint howl as well. I smile. All-in-all, I’m feeling alright.

FIN

My trade is mainly in graphic design and fine art. I haven’t written a fictional narrative since college (and it probably shows), but I do love zombies. I initially wanted to call this piece Zombie Bukkake Bloodbath with Cool Fuckin’ Chainsaws and Jetpacks –but the title somehow didn’t fit the content. If anyone would like to use that title for their own story, feel free. I won’t get mad. Promise. Despite proofreading, I am sure there are a few flaws. All you pedantic -types can have fun correcting this one. I chose to set this story firmly within the wonderful and horrible World War Z continuum, but I made certain not to include any proprietary names or places used in Max Brooks’ works. The small Indiana cities of Merrillville and Lake Station do indeed exist, as does the great city of Chicago, Illinois. This story is by no means a defamation of Dolly Parton who is a fine singer/songwriter. I use her lyrics with all apologies and respect. The main character depicted in the story is fictional and despicable. I certainly do not share any of his views, opinions or actions toward members of the adult entertainment community.

-M.O.