The following morning, after a long and satisfying sleep in the bakery, I decided that I had to do something about the whole zombie situation. It would have been boring sitting around in some weird place watching some guy remind me constantly that it was time to bake the donuts. So I decided to go on a bunch of trips during the day and investigate a bit. Only with a bit less head bashing and shooting. I didn't want those zombies to get our brains that easily. I got my uniform on, including the gun, badge and hat. Those who respected authority before will still respect it during the most bizarre and dangerous of situations. The investigation didn't start off as I had planned. I decided to go geographically, from east to west. The first house in the city was a small house, but the guy inside refused to come out. He had some weird accent, so I didn't understand all of what I said. He told me to get someone else, so I took my cellular phone out and decided to call up the police station. I'm not sure why I didn't do it before. It didn't make any difference since I was getting no reception.
Second house was just as bad. It was some old woman. She was just as bad as the first guy, but she had no accent. I'm sure if she had tried talking in a manner that would have allowed me to understand what she was saying, something would have exploded. Third house was empty. I was about to bust in, but had better things to do with my time. House-wise, I was off to a great pace. Information wise, my pace was as slow as Orlando Pace. As these thoughts circulated my mind, a speeding cab was going through the corners of Threed in a way only a Ford could. Luckily, I jumped out of the way once I heard the tires scraping against the pavement in a desperate, but successful attempt to turn me into another zombie. The guy apologized profusely and asked me immediately if there was anything he could do to repay my near-death. One series of thoughts popped up instantly. First, the guy had a cab. Transportation. It's a small town, but I'm no 20 year old Rocky Balboa. Secondly, he's a cabbie. Cabbies know everything. Who doesn't talk to their cabby? I'm sure there were a few Russian cab drivers during the Cold War who were told directly that they were just bluffing. So I took advantage of my lack of transportation and knowledge and told him to give me some time in his cab. Sure, there's no price on death due to all that 'life is precious' crap. But apparently, the price on near-death is $25, including tip.
I got in and the guy got his mouth running the instant my body collided with that cab heating. The guy probably wanted to get rid of some of the tension. His first question was the typical cabby request. "So, where are you going?"
"No place in particular. You think you can just drive around a few times?"
"No problem, chief."
"So, what are you doing driving a cab in a place like this?"
"There ain't no way I know of to leave this place," he answered like a chauffer. He looked completely concentrated on his driving, but conversed like he was in the back seat with me. "But there are still plenty of people who don't want to use those legs of theirs."
"Any idea what's going on?"
"I probably know less than you do. I heard things. I heard things, but I heard so many things, I ain't sure which of them is right. One guy, he comes in and tells me 'everything'. He says to me that those zombies are all just using us to drive them around. We're good drivers, their hands will fall off if they try to make some of these left turns. Still doesn't explain the brain eating, though. So then he says that eventually, all of us will be brought out by them just to drive. Who started all this? The guy blames Aquaman. He musta figured that since some of these zombies had a bit of a fishy color and was pretty brainless, there has to be some kind of driving force. Who better than Aquaman? Well, I don't believe a word of that guy. I don't think many other people were either since he got eaten a minute after I dropped him off. He left a good tip. Nice guy. A bit on the insane and paranoid side, but nice."
"I'm not buying it either, but that guy got further than I did even if he was probably completely wrong," The cabby got a laugh out of that. It's nice to see people still had a sense of humor. It's like one of those Robin Williams 'humor is the solution to genocide, legal disputes or personal problems' movies. "You never can be safe. I haven't seen Aquaman in a few years."
"Hey, you ain't goin nowhere, right?"
"Not yet."
"Well, I'm gonna pick up this guy if it's ok to you."
I had enough trust in the common man, but glanced out the window simply out of curiosity. The guy looked familiar. He had hair slicked back in a cool big-city fashion and an eye-patch that really didn't add much. He was dressed quite well and was one of those guys that had the huge nose and would have looked much worse without it. "Of course. I'll just pay his thing. Money never has been a big concern for me."
The guy got in; the cabby looked him in the eyes through the rear-view mirror and asked him the top cabby question. "Where you headed?"
"Take me to the bakery. No need to wait for me once we get there. I'm right across the street." The cabby nodded his head in acknowledgement. "So, who's this guy?"
"Captain Strong, police chief of Onett. Have I met you before? You look familiar." Slight pause. My verbal slips always occur in the worst possible ways. "Not that you're a criminal or anything. Maybe I met you at one of our cop picnics? You spend lots of time walking around Onett?"
"Not really. I spend most of my time in Fourside. I own a café. Named after me, Jackie." He reached out, I shook. "I remember you. You spent a few days in our city during the whole Everdred investigation."
"Oh, that's right. That was a real nice bar you had."
"Yeah, and it got even better after that investigation. You should have seen it. It was the last thing I saw before I got here."
"I can't remember the last thing I saw. I had a more conventional trip. Get knocked out cold, get drug to a weird town, try to figure out what happened. Same old stuff."
"Luckily, I've never had to go through something like that," he said as he adjusted his eye-patch. It was the first time I really noticed it while he was in the cab. "I was closing the café up. Cleaning the place up. Pretty bad fight that day. You would have thought it would take more than mere caffeine, but for some people, all it takes is that one cup of espresso. So the two guys bloodied up the place up pretty badly. I walked over to the walls, began washing and got this weird feeling of déjà vu. The wall looked a bit different, so I put my ear against it and did my triple knock. Next thing I see is a bright flash of light. Then come a weird series of images then I begin falling. It feels slow and so does the impact. Not like the 10 second 'fall' I felt. It felt more like I had fallen off the sofa or a bed. Not much else to say about the situation. I'm one of the newer guys here." He glanced out the window. "Well, we're just about there. Nice talking to you again, Strong."
"Same here. And don't worry about the fare. I got it covered."
"Thanks, Strong. Thanks for the ride, bud." He got out then held on to the cab window as he was going through something in his mind. "Oh, and I saw this guy on the street a day or two ago who knew his stuff. Dr. Andonuts - weird guy. Still, you might want to go to him if you want more. I didn't hear much except where he lived. He said it was the only green house in the western section of the town."
I gave Jackie the thumbs-up and checked my watch. There was enough time left. "Ok, that's where we're going. You know where this house is?"
"Yeah, I know where it is. I drove the guy home last night. Well, yesterday afternoon. I don't do night jobs."
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. The cabby must have either said all he had to say or was mentally preparing Jackie's bit for his next guy. "Thanks for all your help. I'll probably end up coming to you again sometime tomorrow. How much do I owe you?"
"Only about $50. Pretty good deal for such a long ride."
I gave him the $50 and tipped him with a big wad of small bills I had in my pocket. The driver was pretty thankful and left me at the green house. He sped away, but it was only 4 PM. 4 PM? Dang, I must have still been in the Summer state of mind. Still, I was here and wasn't going to waste it. I rung the doorbell and knew someone was in. The guy told me to hold on. He laughed then got up. Must have been watching some cartoons. Geniuses always have had a thing for animation. "Hi, what can I do for you?" He looked quite different than I had originally pictured. I pictured some bald old guy in a wheelchair, not a young looking, young sounding guy with tang-orange hair. He was dressed pretty nicely, but not really professionally.
"Hi, Dr. Andonuts? I came after hearing about your explanation of what's going on around here."
"I'm not Andonuts. I'm quite surprised you don't recognize me, the legendary Orange Kid."
"What? But Andonuts told me he was in the only green house on the western side of the town."
"He is. This is the east. Well, come in. I could out-do that guy any day."
I obeyed his request. It was a pretty small house. "So, what are your thoughts on the whole zombie thing?"
He was busy getting some gadgets out of his closet. "Well," he seemed to be struggling for words as he was busy fishing something out. "What do you mean?"
"Why are they here? What do they want?"
"Well, not my new egg machine," he said in a manner completely identical to an infomercial salesman. "Those guys got poor taste. Instead of my superb eggs, they decide to take brains. I bet the juicy mofo in my head's next." I tried getting back on track, but he was too eager to show off his device. "You can use fresh eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, ostrich eggs, any thing and it'll give you what you really want. Boiled eggs. Come on give me any form of egg to use."
"Scrambled." Just like your manners, I thought to myself. He placed a pre-scrambled egg in the machine and after two dull minutes, I had a boiled egg. Only with one major error. "Hey, your machine is smoking and there's a big wire thing in my egg."
"Oh, that's normal," he said calmly as he got the fire extinguisher out. "For now, it is. I'm still working on it."
"Why don't you work on something else for now?"
"Like what?"
"Like telling me what you know on the zombie situation."
"Well, I don't know much. But I am planning on doing something."
"What could you be planning with no information?"
"The typical bust in and shoot them up."
"Care to share any of your incredible weaponry?"
"Not yet. That's confidential. But my finest creation isn't. It's my great pleasure to show you the Suporma."
It looked clunky and weird. He pressed a button on the machine and it began playing a song. Some weird ode to him. I was getting bored after the first 10 minutes and felt a draft. I looked to my side. The door was open. Before I was able to do anything about it, a group of zombies rushed in and ate him instantly. I doubt he even saw it coming or felt much. Thankfully, they took out that incredibly tacky machine with him.
I was a bit quicker. I grabbed a flashlight on his coffee table and jumped through the window. Sounds illogical, but at the time, it seemed much more logical than trying to run through a mob of zombies. Those things are made pretty solidly now. I didn't get cut up badly, but was on my back long enough to get eaten if any of those undead were nearby. I was able to get up fairly quickly due to the threat and just froze and looked around for a few seconds. Nothing around, but it was the mere threat of that in the dark that did the trick. I had the flashlight on in my left hand and the typical cop gun in the right.
I saw that there was nothing close. Or at least not on this side of the house. I walked around the house and looked to my right. One was down the street, but I was to its back. I unintentionally ended up re-enacting the classic cartoon joke. I began making my run, he began making his turn towards me. I stuck my foot out, he stuck his foot behind out of anticipation. Then I saw we were reaching the high-point of their night, food wise, so I shot the zombie in the head three times and made my run.
I was going good until I saw that a group of them was busy hunting down a guy on a bike. I tried to catch up, but by the time I got up to the flesh-eating quartet, each was munching on some limb. The head was completely clean. The only thing that came to mind was "hey, they must be saving the best for last." They saw me looking at them, probably in shock, so it was too late to make an effective run back. I gave each a pop in the head and ran off with the bike. The zombies went down like the rest, but they never stay down long. Still, I got a decent head start, but had no idea where I was going. I should have paid more attention in the cab, but it probably wouldn't have made a difference. I was in one of those parts of the town where every building was a white, two-story house. The cookie cutter section.
I did some swerving to avoid the occasional limb. I didn't approach any zombies until I actually knew where I was. I recognized the hotel from our tent trip, but never went in. The door was open, so I just put two and two together. I sped by the hotel and two zombies began a foot pursuit. I slowed down a bit to get things a bit steadier then pulled the trigger a few times. It's hard shooting while on a bike, but I think I had a winning percentage there. I picked off a zombie approaching in the distance then sped off. This place of town was more comforting, but the turns are much sharper. If I hadn't borrowed such a nice bike, I probably would have fallen off at that left turn after the hotel.
Down the next street, I shot off another zombie, this time while going full-speed. Dang, shooting while speeding is an easy gift to get the hang of. But luck is something you can't develop. If I'm wrong, let me know because I'm really lacking there. I was almost home, or at least to my new temporary bread-baking home. I going down the street and those two zombies, or two other zombies that had sustained massive gunshot wounds to the head that night, were waiting a couple dozen yards in front of me. I shot one, but didn't have enough left in the gun for the second. I took a sharp turn and was hoping to take out the zombie's lower legs with the bike. I blindly jumped and ended up going through a window, harder than the last. I looked up, said "Sorry. I'll clean this up later," to whoever was in there and passed out.
Second house was just as bad. It was some old woman. She was just as bad as the first guy, but she had no accent. I'm sure if she had tried talking in a manner that would have allowed me to understand what she was saying, something would have exploded. Third house was empty. I was about to bust in, but had better things to do with my time. House-wise, I was off to a great pace. Information wise, my pace was as slow as Orlando Pace. As these thoughts circulated my mind, a speeding cab was going through the corners of Threed in a way only a Ford could. Luckily, I jumped out of the way once I heard the tires scraping against the pavement in a desperate, but successful attempt to turn me into another zombie. The guy apologized profusely and asked me immediately if there was anything he could do to repay my near-death. One series of thoughts popped up instantly. First, the guy had a cab. Transportation. It's a small town, but I'm no 20 year old Rocky Balboa. Secondly, he's a cabbie. Cabbies know everything. Who doesn't talk to their cabby? I'm sure there were a few Russian cab drivers during the Cold War who were told directly that they were just bluffing. So I took advantage of my lack of transportation and knowledge and told him to give me some time in his cab. Sure, there's no price on death due to all that 'life is precious' crap. But apparently, the price on near-death is $25, including tip.
I got in and the guy got his mouth running the instant my body collided with that cab heating. The guy probably wanted to get rid of some of the tension. His first question was the typical cabby request. "So, where are you going?"
"No place in particular. You think you can just drive around a few times?"
"No problem, chief."
"So, what are you doing driving a cab in a place like this?"
"There ain't no way I know of to leave this place," he answered like a chauffer. He looked completely concentrated on his driving, but conversed like he was in the back seat with me. "But there are still plenty of people who don't want to use those legs of theirs."
"Any idea what's going on?"
"I probably know less than you do. I heard things. I heard things, but I heard so many things, I ain't sure which of them is right. One guy, he comes in and tells me 'everything'. He says to me that those zombies are all just using us to drive them around. We're good drivers, their hands will fall off if they try to make some of these left turns. Still doesn't explain the brain eating, though. So then he says that eventually, all of us will be brought out by them just to drive. Who started all this? The guy blames Aquaman. He musta figured that since some of these zombies had a bit of a fishy color and was pretty brainless, there has to be some kind of driving force. Who better than Aquaman? Well, I don't believe a word of that guy. I don't think many other people were either since he got eaten a minute after I dropped him off. He left a good tip. Nice guy. A bit on the insane and paranoid side, but nice."
"I'm not buying it either, but that guy got further than I did even if he was probably completely wrong," The cabby got a laugh out of that. It's nice to see people still had a sense of humor. It's like one of those Robin Williams 'humor is the solution to genocide, legal disputes or personal problems' movies. "You never can be safe. I haven't seen Aquaman in a few years."
"Hey, you ain't goin nowhere, right?"
"Not yet."
"Well, I'm gonna pick up this guy if it's ok to you."
I had enough trust in the common man, but glanced out the window simply out of curiosity. The guy looked familiar. He had hair slicked back in a cool big-city fashion and an eye-patch that really didn't add much. He was dressed quite well and was one of those guys that had the huge nose and would have looked much worse without it. "Of course. I'll just pay his thing. Money never has been a big concern for me."
The guy got in; the cabby looked him in the eyes through the rear-view mirror and asked him the top cabby question. "Where you headed?"
"Take me to the bakery. No need to wait for me once we get there. I'm right across the street." The cabby nodded his head in acknowledgement. "So, who's this guy?"
"Captain Strong, police chief of Onett. Have I met you before? You look familiar." Slight pause. My verbal slips always occur in the worst possible ways. "Not that you're a criminal or anything. Maybe I met you at one of our cop picnics? You spend lots of time walking around Onett?"
"Not really. I spend most of my time in Fourside. I own a café. Named after me, Jackie." He reached out, I shook. "I remember you. You spent a few days in our city during the whole Everdred investigation."
"Oh, that's right. That was a real nice bar you had."
"Yeah, and it got even better after that investigation. You should have seen it. It was the last thing I saw before I got here."
"I can't remember the last thing I saw. I had a more conventional trip. Get knocked out cold, get drug to a weird town, try to figure out what happened. Same old stuff."
"Luckily, I've never had to go through something like that," he said as he adjusted his eye-patch. It was the first time I really noticed it while he was in the cab. "I was closing the café up. Cleaning the place up. Pretty bad fight that day. You would have thought it would take more than mere caffeine, but for some people, all it takes is that one cup of espresso. So the two guys bloodied up the place up pretty badly. I walked over to the walls, began washing and got this weird feeling of déjà vu. The wall looked a bit different, so I put my ear against it and did my triple knock. Next thing I see is a bright flash of light. Then come a weird series of images then I begin falling. It feels slow and so does the impact. Not like the 10 second 'fall' I felt. It felt more like I had fallen off the sofa or a bed. Not much else to say about the situation. I'm one of the newer guys here." He glanced out the window. "Well, we're just about there. Nice talking to you again, Strong."
"Same here. And don't worry about the fare. I got it covered."
"Thanks, Strong. Thanks for the ride, bud." He got out then held on to the cab window as he was going through something in his mind. "Oh, and I saw this guy on the street a day or two ago who knew his stuff. Dr. Andonuts - weird guy. Still, you might want to go to him if you want more. I didn't hear much except where he lived. He said it was the only green house in the western section of the town."
I gave Jackie the thumbs-up and checked my watch. There was enough time left. "Ok, that's where we're going. You know where this house is?"
"Yeah, I know where it is. I drove the guy home last night. Well, yesterday afternoon. I don't do night jobs."
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. The cabby must have either said all he had to say or was mentally preparing Jackie's bit for his next guy. "Thanks for all your help. I'll probably end up coming to you again sometime tomorrow. How much do I owe you?"
"Only about $50. Pretty good deal for such a long ride."
I gave him the $50 and tipped him with a big wad of small bills I had in my pocket. The driver was pretty thankful and left me at the green house. He sped away, but it was only 4 PM. 4 PM? Dang, I must have still been in the Summer state of mind. Still, I was here and wasn't going to waste it. I rung the doorbell and knew someone was in. The guy told me to hold on. He laughed then got up. Must have been watching some cartoons. Geniuses always have had a thing for animation. "Hi, what can I do for you?" He looked quite different than I had originally pictured. I pictured some bald old guy in a wheelchair, not a young looking, young sounding guy with tang-orange hair. He was dressed pretty nicely, but not really professionally.
"Hi, Dr. Andonuts? I came after hearing about your explanation of what's going on around here."
"I'm not Andonuts. I'm quite surprised you don't recognize me, the legendary Orange Kid."
"What? But Andonuts told me he was in the only green house on the western side of the town."
"He is. This is the east. Well, come in. I could out-do that guy any day."
I obeyed his request. It was a pretty small house. "So, what are your thoughts on the whole zombie thing?"
He was busy getting some gadgets out of his closet. "Well," he seemed to be struggling for words as he was busy fishing something out. "What do you mean?"
"Why are they here? What do they want?"
"Well, not my new egg machine," he said in a manner completely identical to an infomercial salesman. "Those guys got poor taste. Instead of my superb eggs, they decide to take brains. I bet the juicy mofo in my head's next." I tried getting back on track, but he was too eager to show off his device. "You can use fresh eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, ostrich eggs, any thing and it'll give you what you really want. Boiled eggs. Come on give me any form of egg to use."
"Scrambled." Just like your manners, I thought to myself. He placed a pre-scrambled egg in the machine and after two dull minutes, I had a boiled egg. Only with one major error. "Hey, your machine is smoking and there's a big wire thing in my egg."
"Oh, that's normal," he said calmly as he got the fire extinguisher out. "For now, it is. I'm still working on it."
"Why don't you work on something else for now?"
"Like what?"
"Like telling me what you know on the zombie situation."
"Well, I don't know much. But I am planning on doing something."
"What could you be planning with no information?"
"The typical bust in and shoot them up."
"Care to share any of your incredible weaponry?"
"Not yet. That's confidential. But my finest creation isn't. It's my great pleasure to show you the Suporma."
It looked clunky and weird. He pressed a button on the machine and it began playing a song. Some weird ode to him. I was getting bored after the first 10 minutes and felt a draft. I looked to my side. The door was open. Before I was able to do anything about it, a group of zombies rushed in and ate him instantly. I doubt he even saw it coming or felt much. Thankfully, they took out that incredibly tacky machine with him.
I was a bit quicker. I grabbed a flashlight on his coffee table and jumped through the window. Sounds illogical, but at the time, it seemed much more logical than trying to run through a mob of zombies. Those things are made pretty solidly now. I didn't get cut up badly, but was on my back long enough to get eaten if any of those undead were nearby. I was able to get up fairly quickly due to the threat and just froze and looked around for a few seconds. Nothing around, but it was the mere threat of that in the dark that did the trick. I had the flashlight on in my left hand and the typical cop gun in the right.
I saw that there was nothing close. Or at least not on this side of the house. I walked around the house and looked to my right. One was down the street, but I was to its back. I unintentionally ended up re-enacting the classic cartoon joke. I began making my run, he began making his turn towards me. I stuck my foot out, he stuck his foot behind out of anticipation. Then I saw we were reaching the high-point of their night, food wise, so I shot the zombie in the head three times and made my run.
I was going good until I saw that a group of them was busy hunting down a guy on a bike. I tried to catch up, but by the time I got up to the flesh-eating quartet, each was munching on some limb. The head was completely clean. The only thing that came to mind was "hey, they must be saving the best for last." They saw me looking at them, probably in shock, so it was too late to make an effective run back. I gave each a pop in the head and ran off with the bike. The zombies went down like the rest, but they never stay down long. Still, I got a decent head start, but had no idea where I was going. I should have paid more attention in the cab, but it probably wouldn't have made a difference. I was in one of those parts of the town where every building was a white, two-story house. The cookie cutter section.
I did some swerving to avoid the occasional limb. I didn't approach any zombies until I actually knew where I was. I recognized the hotel from our tent trip, but never went in. The door was open, so I just put two and two together. I sped by the hotel and two zombies began a foot pursuit. I slowed down a bit to get things a bit steadier then pulled the trigger a few times. It's hard shooting while on a bike, but I think I had a winning percentage there. I picked off a zombie approaching in the distance then sped off. This place of town was more comforting, but the turns are much sharper. If I hadn't borrowed such a nice bike, I probably would have fallen off at that left turn after the hotel.
Down the next street, I shot off another zombie, this time while going full-speed. Dang, shooting while speeding is an easy gift to get the hang of. But luck is something you can't develop. If I'm wrong, let me know because I'm really lacking there. I was almost home, or at least to my new temporary bread-baking home. I going down the street and those two zombies, or two other zombies that had sustained massive gunshot wounds to the head that night, were waiting a couple dozen yards in front of me. I shot one, but didn't have enough left in the gun for the second. I took a sharp turn and was hoping to take out the zombie's lower legs with the bike. I blindly jumped and ended up going through a window, harder than the last. I looked up, said "Sorry. I'll clean this up later," to whoever was in there and passed out.