Zombie Bitches From Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

in.” Not exactly Romeo and Juliet, but this ain’t
Verona.
     

CHAPTER 6
     
    The mountains are turning that dusty violet
color when I see the surface of a foothill about a half mile out
begin to move. I rub my bleary eyes thinking it’s the dust and the
sleeplessness or maybe the updraft winds that own this valley are
playing tricks. But no. It’s none of these things. The skin on that
hill is moving like a rug being pulled by a giant.
    Then I realize it’s people. Must be two or
three thousand people moving in a slow swarm up from the city, up
the foothills and inching toward us like lava in reverse.
    I run to one of the guards—Jim, I think his
name is. He looks and signals to the guy in the watchtower who uses
his binoculars to verify what I just told them.
    “Shit,” he says. “It’s a million of them.
Movin’ slow and steady up here. Don’t make any noise. Alert the
others. Maybe they’ll just pass us by. No one knows we’re up here.”
Right, I think. Pass us by. Sure. And maybe we’ll sprout wings and
fly to Hawaii for a fucking luau.
    They do know. I’m up and running back to the
shed where everyone is sleeping, shouting the alarm. I get Tim and
Rick riled.
    “Rick, get the balloon ready. Now.”
    He looks at me and knows this is not the plan
of the slow rise into the wild blue yonder and the fond farewells.
He also knows if we don’t move quick, some of these guys are going
to try to board the gondola, swamp it and we’ll be fucked. For a
moment, I think maybe better now than later. We’re the dead men
walking anyway. Then I remember Jen, tell Tim to get MG and get in
the gondola pronto.
    “Just do it quiet. No panicking or our asses
are finished here,” I say quite steadily considering I’m almost
pissing myself. As I head to the gondola, I remember that scene in
the Wizard of Oz flick where they’re all supposed to get in
the balloon with the phony wizard but Dorothy runs after her dog
and misses getting in and the fucking thing takes off without her.
But out back, I see Tim and MG already boarded.
    Tim signals with his hand and has his rifle
ready. Rick is firing up the burner. With a few quick steps and a
hurdle jump, I’m in.
    “Let’s go,” I loud whisper.
    One of the guards—remember these are weekend
warrior National Guardsmen who made it up here at the first sign of
trouble—says, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Get to the
barricades.”
    “Captain,” I say, knowing full well this is
just an asshole in a uniform who worked at the local Ford dealer
selling shit pick-up trucks to rednecks. “We’re not going anywhere.
Sir, we’ve already cleared the idea with the major. We’re going to
lift off fifty feet and do some reconnaissance. If it’s trouble
those bitches want, we’ll rain down shock and awe on their asses.
Permission sought, sir.” Man, I am slinging it, hoping he doesn’t
realize there is no major here. I salute.
    “Permission granted,” he says saluting back.
I’m thinking if we survive all this I’ll carve this jerk-offs head
next to Lincoln’s on Mt Rushmore myself if I have to use a nail
file to do it.
    Tim grabs my shoulder and smiles at me with a
nod as if to say, “Nice work.” For someone who doesn’t speak much,
he can express himself.
    The balloon rises about thirty feet off the
ground and I’m watching the swarm approach. It is a massive horde
of GaGa broads, some looking no more than seven or eight years old.
There must be at least two thousand of them. They’re moving at the
same pace they’d move if they were at a mall looking for a bargain.
The guys below are armed to the teeth and holed up in hidden spots
all around the transmission tower. The perimeter fence is
electrified but I don’t know if it can handle that much resistance.
It was designed to keep teenagers on a bender out. Maybe an
itinerant drunk.
    I was amazed that the guys could hold off
firing until the bitches reached the sandbag barrier. They open
fire