Chapter 3
2D answered his door and was met with the frightening gaze of Murdoc. Or should he say… The Dirt? Stinking of vodka and smokes that made 2D think good god, man, it's not even noon. A dark desire, almost craving in his eyes that was yet to be revealed. "To what do I owe 'is pleasure?" 2D asked as he leaned on his door. Pleasure indeed…
"I want your zombie movies," he commanded. 2D's face brightened by the mention of his favourite and specialist subject.
"Oh, why didn't ya say so? Come in, come in, I'll show ya my collections!" He opened out the door and herded the old man through. Murdoc gave a little nod and huddled inside his room though very reluctantly. Look, you can wallow in remorse later; you've got some films to deal to. He moaned warily as he walked inside and squinted from the blinding coloured lights and wide screens. "Wha' were ya lookin' for? I've got a bunch 'ere, y'know…"
"Anything you can recommend, mate," he said as he wandered his room with amazement. 2D flipped through the films and mumbled the names as he went through.
"Wha' do ya want? 'Orror or thriller or suspense or do ya want an old movie where 'ey just paint their faces blue or new movies-"
"2D," Murdoc seethed. He turned to him with a little puppy dog face like he knew he was going to get told off for doing some minor mistake like drawing on the wall. "Ever win a trophy for that stupefying talent of yours?" 2D cocked his head to the side unsurely and opened his mouth to speak but Murdoc shut him off, knowing it would save them both. "Just… get me your best film."
2D surfed the collection and finally pulled out his favourite. He held the tape out to Murdoc who took it in hand, not a track of gratitude or even happiness on his face but 2D wasn't quite ready to let go. He smirked, "y'know, ya never did give meh a proper apology…"
Murdoc leaned into his pretty boy face so close that he almost could have licked her. Both their hearts beating faster. "Yeah, I know." He snatched the tape from his hands and 2D gulped staring right back into his demonic eyes. He smiled patronizingly. "Thanks, bitch." He left the room and escaped back to his Winnebago, leaving poor helpless 2D lying on the floor, wondering what ever happened to his dear friend, Murdoc.
He sat in the front Winnebago, the little TV brought down onto the counter. He read the back text of the video and it clearly indicated that it was the mother of all zombie flicks. Under the impression he would be able to find out any information about his condition. And would it save him?
He slipped in the tape slowly and watched it buzz and start up. The screen flicked static but remained black for almost a minute but the power kept running faster and faster, the numbers zooming past. Murdoc whacked it a couple of times and seemed to make it madder and it squealed so high pitched it made Murdoc feel painfully deaf. Make it stop! He pushed every button he could and reached around the back to unplug the wire but nothing worked. He watched it with a shit petrified stare as smoke started to seep from the VCR and he screamed.
The screen blew in a flick of bright white burning bright light and smoke that burnt Murdoc's eyes. The tape shot out and striked him in the stomach that battered him to the floor in pain. Then suddenly he awoke. He was found snuggled up on the couch in front of the living room TV in Kong. Befuddled and out of his mind he saw the film currently playing just in time to watch a bloody corpse hit a window gawking and clawing away at the glass. "What the fuck?" he yelled with emphasis as he sat up.
"Excuse meh?" 2D questioned and turned his head to him. Murdoc saw 2D right next to him on the other side of the couch with a packet of crisps in hand. He groaned and rubbed his aching eyes roughly. 2D showed no sympathy and handed the packet out to him. "Chip?"
"What happened…? How'd I get here?"
"Err yeh walked, I believe."
"Wasn't I in my…? What?" he gave 2D a why-do-I-bother glare and leaned back in his seat. "What kind of dense answer's tha'? Give me a chip, you bastard." He took a whole handful and gobbled them down greedily as they watched the zombies wander like lost souls outside the local mall. "What's this shit?" he asked and 2D took offence for his most favoured movie, and ever since he was allowed to rent them out as well, remake.
"'Is shit is the movie ya wanted to watch. So shut up an' watch it." Murdoc shook his head feebly and decided to watch the rest of the film. Occasionally glancing at his bandage whenever he felt scared, the blood seeped through. But when the video finished, when it was all over so was the bite's bleeding… stains gone and all like freshly changed. Someone's fucking with meh.
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"23 hours?" he squealed as he read the book he stole off 2D, 'Dummies guide to zombies'. "It takes roughly 23 hours before the infection takes full effect? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he cried in frustration and threw the book against his Winnebago door, battering it open. "23 hours… that fucking number!" he cowered down on the ground with not a clue what he was going to do. He kept muttering to himself as he rocked back and forth, they don't even know zombies exist, they don't know, they're guessing, they make it up, just like in the stories, they make it up, it's not true…'
Murdoc grabbed the book again painfully and flipped through it trying to find the cure. He searched the book almost 3 times before he realised that there wasn't one. He did manage to cross a section that mentioned the slogan 'Shot 'em in da head' but he swiftly passed that with blissful arrogance, determined to find the treatment. No one was gonna fucking shoot him in his head. He sighed lightly as he placed it down and thought about consulting the medicine man. This was 2D, obviously, but something said to him that if he hadn't ever had an obsessive fascination with zombies then the bastards wouldn't have bothered him at all.
Oh yes, it was precious 2D who said 'Oh no, it's awright, we can still live 'ere, we'll just cut 'em up, slice 'em righ' through' in his shrill little teenage voice when they bought the place.
Murdoc was feeling this disease overcoming him already. It was like… sick black venom crawling through his veins. Slithering through him like a serpent. He ran to his mirror and looked at his reflection, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. His face was a little pale yet a little flushed in his cheeks. He felt his forehead and noticed he was burning up. He'd not been awake 3 hours and already it was spreading dangerously.
He put a hand on the mirror trying to reach through the other side, looking deep into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and black as night. The bags and marks all around them weren't just blue now. They were like a dark magenta purple. It scared him.
It scares you, doesn't it, Mudsie? The eyes. They aren't looking at you, oh no… they look right through you. Inside you. They see you, Murdoc, and that's your dark side mimicking you right there. And now you know that even when you turn away, they will still be watching. Always watching this sickness take over you, watch you writher and scream and sweat and bleed till you finally give up and turn the gun on yourself.
"No…"
Face it, Mudsie… There's a bullet with your name on it. And it's right in your drawer, you see it? … Pull the trigger once you've finished with the game.
Murdoc withdrew the hand and smashed it into his mirror, speckles of glass slid down onto his hand and flying into his ominous dark eyes. "Try looking at me though that now, you… fucking-" he grabbed the mirror frame, lifted it off the hooks and threw it into his bath where it split into pieces, the rest of the glass finally shattered. He left his Winnebago without a second glance. Blood droplets soaked into his rugs. He didn't need that book anymore; he knew how the rest of the story goes. Mr. Medicine Man wrote it himself.
No, 2D… You're wrong. See, I've calculated that within the next 13 hours, I will be, technically, dead. So you're wrong, mate… I really can kill yeh.
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