Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Talking Zombies (Finale to "Endstone"; The Pack)

The finale to the "Endstone" series. This chapter is based very loosely on the parody "Talking Zombies" by Vikkstar123. It will probably ruin it for you, too. Apparently Vik likes stabbing people in the back.

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Jerome:

I make sure it's tucked securely in the belt loop in the back of my jeans and hidden under my shirt, and I hold the greasy paper bag full of tacos up so they can see it. Then I knock on the door of their hotel room. I'm only gonna get one shot at this. If no one else's gonna do it, I'll do it myself. So what if that makes me a monster? At least I'll be a monster among zombies. At least I'll know I did the right thing when they strap me in the electric chair and turn out the lights.

"Jerome, what are you doing here?" Rob asks quietly through the door with a hint of annoyance. Preston's still snivellin' somewhere in the background and I hear him say something in his whiny crying voice and I grit my teeth and try not to make a face. I just need to get him to open the door.

"I thought you guys'd want some food. Can't a guy be nice to his friends?" Saying the f-word is like slapping myself in the face with Mitch's cold, dead, broken hand. But I'll say anything they want me to as long as it gets me in there with them.

"I think we're good for now. Thanks, Jerome." Rob-a-Dob-Flob's gotta be stubborn as always.

"But I went all the way down to that shopping center from hell to get these! And you're not even gonna eat 'em?!?" I say it loud enough that I know Pressy'll hear me. Between his gullibility and Rob's bleeding heart, this'll be a piece of cake. Come on, guys. Just open the door. Just a crack.

"Hey, man. I don't think that's a good idea, not after-"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me, Woof? I go outta my way to try to make it up to you guys and you-"

"I know you just want to-"

"Just let him in, Rob," Preston croaks from somewhere in the background, his voice even more annoying than it usually is. I wanna grab the back of his head and bash his face against the wall until he stops moving. That's what he did to Mitch. He'd deserve it, the stupid bastard.

"Preston, you know this isn't going to be pretty." There's a pause and I hear Rob sigh and slowly unlock the deadbolt on the door. The chain's still in place and he opens the door and looks out at me with those sad, bruised puppy dog eyes of his that used to make me feel sorry for him. He brought this shit down on his own head by siding with Preston. If he knows what's good for him, he'll stay outta my way.

"Hey, Woof."

"Please don't get it started again. We just want things to go back to normal so we can all go to Mitch's funeral in peace. Okay?" I nod and hold the bag out with both hands like a peace offering, like what he just said doesn't matter. These two wouldn't've been invited to Mitch's funeral to start with. But he can think that, if it makes him feel better. He looks me up and down for a second before he shuts the door and unchains the lock. I'm in.

"Thanks." It comes out more stiffly than I'd wanted it to but it doesn't matter now. I'm invincible. I slowly walk in with the bag of Taco Hell and get a good look at the Pity Parlor. Preston's sprawled out in the middle of the bed under the covers with a mountain of used, bloody tissues on the table next to him and a stupid fire beanie stretched over his head. Probably to cover up the handful of hair missing from the top of his scalp. I just wish I coulda grabbed more. I hear the door shut quickly behind me and turn to see Rob pressing a bright blue ice pack to his equally-blue and swollen nose. His eyes are trained on me as he walks past, watching me warily as I toss the bag of lukewarm crap food at Preston. He just looks down at it and back up at me with his red and purple splotchy face. I did that. Just wish I'd had more time alone with him to paint a whole picture. I wonder what his fans'd think if they saw him like this, after he got mauled by a Bacca. Hell, I did a number on all of 'em, Lachlan included. He blinks up at me and rubs his eyes with his fists.