The Chicken Zombies

Chapter 38-- The Boat Shaped Like The Bad Man's Head

Shakira's head hurt. That she knew before she even opened her eyes.

Her head was pushed sideways against a cold, hard, concrete floor, hair smattered across her face. She was drenched, and freezing, and not a fan of this whole situation.

Slowly, she pushed herself off the ground, her vision going black as she sat up, lightheaded.

"Yikes," she muttered under her breath. She was beginning to get her sight back, though her head still pounded.

She was in the corner of a jail cell, with a concrete floor and purple cell bars. Shakira rubbed her neck as she glanced around the cell. She was excited to see Noah, even though he was unconscious, in one corner. She would've raced over to see if he was okay, but she was too tired and achy.

In another corner sat an old man she'd never seen before. He was toothless, with a long white beard. "Hey, there, sweetheart!" he said, smiling toothlessly. "My name's Jimmy! What's yours, pretty thang?" He winked.

She slowly held up her middle finger. Then, she glanced to the other corner, and her eyes lit up.

Lying flat on his back, looking completely at ease, eyes shut, was Ace Ainsworth. Shakira's breath hitched in her throat. "Ace," she breathed. He didn't answer.

Shakira slowly pried herself closer to him. Minutes later, after lots of heavy panting, she was finally next to him. She lay her head on his chest, exhausted. She felt him shift under her. She sat up.

His eyelids fluttered before painfully opening them completely. Ace arched his back, squirming on the concrete. "Bloody 'ell," he complained. "My back feels like it was run over."

"Ace."

He blinked before looking at Shakira. "Are we dead?"

"I-I don't think so."

Ace sighed. "That's good. " He pulled her back onto his chest and kissed the top of her wet, tangled hair.

Then, he pulled his neck up slightly, trying to look around. "Where are we? And where is everybody?"

A voice in the distance announced, "We're on Ronaldo Rosenpinis' submarine, which is shaped like his head. And there are no chicken zombies on it so they don't touch water and die. And there's a kid in the other corner. My name's Jimmy, what's yours, son?" He explained this as if he wasn't at all concerned. "And for the record, I swing both ways." He winked at Ace.

"That's Jimmy the Pervert," said Shakira.

"Ah," replied Ace. "So there are no chicken zombies on this boat?"

Shakira shook her head. "Nope."

"That seems rather stupid of Mr. Rosenpinis."

"Agreed."

Ace paused before saying, "Who's that in the other corner?"

Shakira tiredly looked. "Noah, I think."

Ace squinted. "Is he breathing?"

"Um, sure?"

"I don't like the sound of that answer."

Another voice piped up, all of the sudden. "Wait, that sounds like Ace's stupid voice over there!" The voice was muffled, the person was behind the wall, on the other side of the cell (which must have been divided) but it very distinctly sounded like...

"Dante?!" Shakira called. "Is that you?"

"Shakira?!"

"YES!"

"Wait, Shakira's over there too?" said a familiar southern twang. Hillbilly! "Is anyone else on the other side of this wall?!"

"Is that... That voice sounds awfully like..." In the other corner, Jimmy the Pervert was squinting to try to listen better. "Is that my third wife Estelle?"