KILL‘EM ALL
Rem Reynolds
I used to have grandchildren. I loved those grandchildren. They ran around the house, laughing and screaming. Used to make my heart glad when Susan brought those grandchildren around. I used to grill them up burgers. I took them out on my boat and we caught bream. Little Roy didn’t like putting worms on the hook. Said it was nasty. That boy had a sweet heart and couldn’t stand hurting a worm, and now he’s dead.
I don’t know where the zombies come from. The scientists on the televisions say maybe the zombies were radiated, something bad and nuclear. Seems right. Getting radiated did shit for me. The cancer went away. The cancer came back. The cancer went away, and now it's coming back. I know the cancer. The cancer's my damn friend. I put my arm around his shoulders and pull him close.
Back from the grave, that's a zombie. Crawl right back out of the grave. The first time I saw it on the television I couldn't believe it. Could not believe it. Unnatural. In Vietnam I fought in the jungle. You've heard about that. But see me now? I was waiting for that boy with my name, hiding in the bush, and when he came by I killed him and took his place. Never felt like that again until I saw the zombies climbing up out of the ground. Look, I said to my woman and pointed at the TV. The world is not what I motherfucking reckoned.
On the TV I saw they got zombies in Houston and zombies in Florida and they had a zombie in New York City but they killed it motherfucking dead. They're mean devils in New York City.
Here’s how I found out about the zombies in Batesville. Susan called me last week. She says Daddy, they came to the school. I say you get out of there now, Susan. You get those grandchildren and go. She says she can't. Zombies everywhere she says. Where are those grandchildren I ask her. At the school she says. I say you get down there and get those grandchildren. She says she can't she can't. Oh Lord I say. I call up Penderton and say grab your damn gun. He’s a good man. Doesn’t even ask a question. But we're too late.
The next day we go to a Wal-Mart I’d heard about on the radio. Aman named Simpson was organizing militias. A good many people already there when we drive up. This Simpson, he’s a leader now. He gets up and gives a speech, probably the best damn speech I ever heard. He talks about being free and loving God. He’s not a pussy about it either. Loves God like a man. He talks about the aberrations of science and the crimes that must be paid for. He’ll be damned if he’s going to pay for the sins of another, he says, and I think of Roy, who never radiated shit. Simpson goes on, we’re going to clean this mess up ourselves, he says. He divides us into teams and we jump in the back of the military trucks they have waiting for us. Me and Penderton get in Simpson’s truck with eight other men. Simpson keeps talking. We’re going out to an office building thick with zombies, he says, because he got a call from a woman thinks her husband’s still in there, been calling her all day. We’re going to go bust that man out.
Simpson puts his hand on my shoulder and says hey there, you a good shot? I say I sure as hell am. He says well aim for their damn heads cause that’s where you have to shoot if you aim to kill them. I say I sure as hell aim to kill them. He says, damn right, we’ll kill em all.
There’s a boy in the truck and I ask him how old is he. He says fourteen. His hair’s dyed blonde and his fingernails are painted black, and he looks like the kind of kid who’s an unhappy pain in the ass. Which I’ve got some experience with, seeing how me and Susan didn’t always see eye to eye when she was bouncing around town with older gentlemen and getting herself tattooed. This boy’s got himself a damn nice shotgun, and I say where’d you get that, and he says it was his daddy’s. I ask him if he ever shot it before and he says no he never shot it. Now right away I know this boy’s queer. I always know, I’ve got what Susan calls the gaydar, and I don’t give a damn one way or another I just want to know who I’m dealing with. So I say alright, hey, this here’s your safety, and you want to hold the gun like this. I say you got any shells for that thing, and he says a couple. Me and Penderton look at each other, like whoa boy. You’re going to need some ammunition I tell him. I say, look, you take this thing here, and I give him a pistol I got with me, and I give him some clips for it, and I show him how to use it so the kick doesn’t throw his aim off. I say what’s your name son and he tells me Graham. And I say Graham I’m Pete and this is Penderton. You stick with us and try not to shoot us in the ass. The boy doesn’t say much, just nods, but he listens the whole time, which is better for a kid anyway.
We roll on up into the parking lot of the office building. Simpson and one man climb up to the top of the truck to the clear the vicinity, meaning they take a couple of automatic weapons and clean up about forty zombies. We’re watching from the back of the truck, and truth be told it’s easy killing. The slow little fuckers come right at you. They walk right on toward the truck while Simpson and his man keep gunning them down. Then we all jump out. Graham says it smells like shit. The boy gags but holds it in and I say there you go, boy, and punch him on the arm.
Simpson tells us we’re going to storm the office building through the front door and divide into two groups, one covering the first two floors from the ground up and the second starting at the top floor and working down. He throws me a walkie talkie and says you’re in charge of group two. Alright I say. Let’s talk now says Simpson. If you find the man inside let’s get him out of there. And kill every single motherfucking zombie that gets in your way. Finally, if any one of you men gets bit, it is the duty of your comrades to kill you before you turn. No exceptions. Is everyone clear on that? We nod. Then Simpson says let’s go.
It’s one of those boxy little glass office buildings with brown carpets on the inside and fluorescent lights, the kind of place I never wanted to work in, which is why I got into real estate so I could drive around and look at land rather than being cooped up all day scribbling shit on paper. So this place is ugly as hell, and we add to the décor when we dispatch of a couple of zombies right there in the lobby. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to one. Like in the war when I killed my first gook, I want a look. Like a lot of the zombies this one’s wearing the suit it was buried in. Its teeth are long, its nails gray and crusted. Skin’s green and dry. No eyes. Makes me think of going to Susan's after leaving the school, and finding her crying in bed with her man Lewis trying to feed her some Campbell’s soup. After a while she calms down and we talk. Then I take Lewis outside and I say to him we got extra firepower if you want to come with us. He says he can’t, he doesn’t think he can shoot zombies. I say what the hell are you saying. He says because they’re people, really, and we don’t understand what they’re all about. Now I’m getting mad. He says to me we don’t know what they want, or why they’re living, or if any of the humanity’s still alive in them. My mother’s buried in one of those cemeteries, and what if she’s walking around now? And what if I shot her and killed whatever was left of her inside? I can’t do it. I said you’re the damndest fool I’ve ever met. Susan’s boys are dead. I know, he says, I feel terrible. Well fuck you and your feelings I say, and I’m ready to give him all kinds of feelings in the mouth and jaw area when Penderton grabs me from behind and drags me away and tells Lewis to go on inside. Now I’m sitting here looking at this zombie and I wish I could shove Lewis's head down so they could look each other in the eye and I could ask the fool to show me the humanity.
So my team gets on the elevator and goes on up to the fourth floor. We step out of the elevator. It’s a goddamn zombie circus. We open fire, me and Penderton, because we’re the first ones out of the elevator. We stand back to back and waste everything in the hallway. I tell this other fella to watch the elevator and let loose if he sees any zombies. Penderton, me, and the boy Graham start to investigate the offices. First one we look into, we find a couple of them feeding. Bent over this fella, district sales manager it says on his desk, biting on his arms and legs. We rain holy hell on those things, boy. We move through the offices, and I’m calling out, trying to see if there’s anyone there still alive. Then we move on down to the third floor and do the same. Graham even kills himself one, pops it right in the head with the little peagun I gave him. I pat him on the back. Then Penderton taps my shoulder. He puts a finger to his mouth. I listen and hear moaning. We follow the noise until we come to a door. We try it, and it’s locked. Stand back if you’re in there I say. I shoot the lock. We kick the door in and find this man curled up in the corner. Smells terrible. He’s crying. I give him some water. We get him up off the floor. You’re all right now, I tell him, you’re all right. We’re taking you back to your wife. You’re lucky to be alive I tell him but he doesn’t look like he feels that way. What the hell were you doing here in the first place asks Graham. I say quiet son. Graham says you got shit for brains Mister to the man. Well, I never liked insolence. I slap him on the head and tell him to shut his damn mouth. Reminds me of Susan, though. She was a smart one. If I said the sky was blue she'd say it was red. Should've heard her when she met my second wife.. Shook her hand, said how do you do. Said My that's a pretty hairdo. Thank you said my wife. Did you get it done at Camelia's? In her sweetest voice, knowing damn well only black women got their hair cut there. Eleven years old and mean as a snake.
I get Simpson on the walkie-talkie. We got him, I say. Simpson says let's roll out. Me and Penderton reload and pave a trail out of the building on the backs of the dead. When we get to the truck we load the man up in the back and they start giving him water. I pop a few more zombie heads and hop in. High fives.
Now Simpson lets me take teams out on my own. I always bring Penderton and I can't not bring the boy. He follows me around wherever I go. We let him hold onto a pistol. Every once in a while he manages to shoot straight. He terrorizes plaster, trees, and other surroundings mostly. He's a good kid. I made him quit putting on fingernail polish. Even if he's queer he shouldn't be wearing fingernail polish.
One day I call up Susan and nobody answers. I get Penderton and Graham and we drive on over to her house. Find her and Lewis loading up a car in the driveway. What the hell's going on I ask her. She says she's leaving. The TV and the radio called for an evacuation. Said Fort Jackson was the place people were supposed to go until the army got the situation under control. I say hell no you're not going. What if those grandchildren are still alive I say. Where are you going to be then? She starts crying. Lewis doesn't say anything, he just goes inside. Then Susan lays into me. I've heard this all before, let me tell you. About how I was a bad father. How I made her mother leave. How I never loved her and always put her down. This one's a Potts family classic. Five years ago Susan told me I needed therapy. I told her the last thing I needed was to pay some egghead money to listen to me. Look I told her, Penderton listens to me all the time and he's free. She cried a bunch more and told me she'd never talk to me again unless I went and saw this fella Dr. Satch. So I made my appointment and he asked me questions. Then after I finished telling him what a pain in the ass Susan had become, and how she'd taken on having these kids with a limpdick like Lewis, this genius says to me, You know Mr. Potts, it seems like you don't like yourself very much. Don't like myself! I say to him what is there not to like? And he says you tell me. And I say to him is that how it works? And he says what? And I say therapy. And he says therapy's a way to help you heal yourself, and that means looking inside yourself and answering questions about yourself in a truthful manner. Oh I say, well then maybe I should ask myself if I'd like myself better if I beat your fat ass? That was the end of therapy for me. Proud to say it didn't cost me a red cent. Anyway, Susan's rehashing this stuff again, and I can't take it. Go on I tell her. Leave the house. Leave your grandchildren. Leave me. You and Lewis go get yourselves somewhere safe. She says what are you going to do? Stay here? I say there's a goddamn job to be done and hell yes I plan on doing it. Well I think you should come with us she says, and what are you doing with that boy anyway? I look over. Graham's standing in the middle of the yard, a rifle under his arm, scouting the perimeter. I'm training him, I say. Oh God, says Susan, the child's doomed. Susan reminds me of her mother when she says stuff like that. Her mouth turns down in a way that makes her prettier.
Anyway, I know there's no arguing with Susan when she's like this. We help her load the car. I take Lewis aside. I tell him take care of my daughter. He says he'll try. I say, you know, you're not the man I would've picked but after this I'd like to learn to like you. He looks confused. Then he says thanks. I slap him on the back. I say sure thing son. But the last word comes out garbled.
At some point loading up the car I decide to stay at the house for the night. It's late I tell Penderton and Graham. Penderton nods. Graham spits and says the place sucks. I knock him on the head and tell him to pipe down. This used to be my damn house after all and I don't plan on taking any guff about it. Quit hitting me says the boy. Penderton goes into the kitchen to cook up some dinner. How come Penderton never talks asks Graham. Hell I say, Penderton's said it all before. Doesn't need to say it all again. Which is the truth. I've known Penderton longer than anyone else alive in this world. Used to drive around with me in high school drawing pussy like bees to honey. Penderton was almost pretty back then. I just got whatever he tossed my way. Which added up considerably. Then me and Penderton went to the war. You should see the medals in his den. He was a one man slaughterhouse. Came back here and got into real estate. Never married. Retired at forty-six with a Boston Whaler, a house at Pawley's Island, and enough girlfriends to keep all the dicks in China wet. He had plenty of rich friends but still invited me over to all his cookouts. He's a good damn man. So the son of a bitch keeps quiet. Makes him easy company. Nobody likes a jabbermouth, I tell the boy, now go round the house and make sure the windows are nailed shut.
Penderton fries up some chicken and we eat it out on the porch. Wind's pushing big gray clouds over us and blowing the trees so that pine needles whip through the air and hit us in the faces. Big storm coming, I say. Penderton nods. Graham makes a wise comment about how I should be a meteorologist. I smack him on the head. When the big drops start to fall I tell them we need to get inside and nail up the doors. Take every precaution.
I tell Graham to take first watch and I go find my old bedroom to get some sleep. It's Lewis and Susan's room now. I open a chest of drawers and have a look. Boxer shorts, some ratty socks, and some porno mags, judging from which I'd say Lewis is an ass man. Find a stack of letters too. I put them on the bedside table and lay down. I think about the women who've been in this room. Remember my first wife. Claire. Curly dark hair. Blue eyes. Used to take her out dancing on Friday night. She's dead now. At the funeral her sister wouldn't talk to me and her brother told someone after a few drinks that he'd like to lay me out. As if I was the one who invented screwing around. I was never one to sit still. I went up to the bastard and told him if he wanted to dance I knew a nice place we could go. That was twenty years ago. For the first time I wish I hadn't done it.
The rain's hammering the windows. I take up the stack of letters and read the first one.
Dearest, I'm sorry about last night. I know that none of the things that Daddy said to you are true, and even if they were I wouldn't care. I love you because you're sweet and gentle, which are things he doesn't understand or care about. He's a good man sometimes but love's not what he uses his heart for. Forgive him and call me sweetness. Love, Susan
Forgive me? He lives in my damn house. I toss the stack of letters aside. If it's just going to be a catalog of complaints about me, I've heard it, read it, watched it on the evening news. The squirelly bastard can produce these as evidence at my final judgment for all I care. I turn off the light.
When I wake up I hear knocking sounds from somewhere in the house. The rain's still going hard. I get out of bed and pull back the window curtains. Rain pours from the eaves. I can see them moving in the yard.
Graham's in the living room nailing some plywood over the windows. He's covered two and he's moving on to the third when the glass breaks. Zombie arms wave wildly through the window. Reminds me of seaweed I saw when Penderton took me snorkeling in the Bahamas, tendrils swirling around in the water. That was something to see. Stand back son I say. I pull the trigger on the shotgun a few times and let some fresh air into the room. Now board the window up good I say. He jumps right on it. What the hell happened to your watch, I say. The goddamn things got right up to the damn house. I fell asleep, he says while he's butchering a nail with his hammer. I go over to the other windows and examine his handiwork. Shit son, I say, you ever seen a nail before? They're not for origami. I grab one of the obliterated nails that's barely holding the wood over the window and pull it out. I hold it up for him to see. This looks like something the Roto Rooter man could use, son. This couldn't hold a stamp on an envelope. Go get Penderton I tell him, and give me that damn hammer. I slap him on back of the head as he runs off.
I spit and start to undo some of Graham's craftsmanship. I suppose it's what I deserve, asking him to do it in the first place. That was a poor goddamn idea. I've got to remember that the boy doesn't have any sense. He's a good kid and means well though, not doubt about that. I pound a nail into the wood with two hard blows. Then I hear Graham yelling.
I run back to my grandchildren's room where Penderton was sleeping. Graham's standing in the doorway with his pistol in his hand. There's a zombie rolling on the ground with Penderton. Give me that gun I tell Graham. You'll probably shoot yourself in the eye. I try to get a bead on the zombie, but it's rolling around with Penderton, and they're too close. Then it rolls on top of him and bites his neck. I stride on up to it, put the barrel to its head, and bam, do a little interior decorating.
I roll the fucker off Penderton. The man's hurt bad. Bleeding from the throat. I board up the window that the zombie crawled through. While I'm at it I take the shotgun and plug a few to make myself feel better. Then I take a ripped up shirt and wrap Penderton's wound the best I can. He's passed out. Moans every once in a while. You're a good goddamn man, I tell him.
It won't be long now says Graham, we gotta shoot him. Hush son, I say, this man fought hard and I won't put him down like a damn dog. But that's all talk, really. We know the rules. Get out of here, I tell him, and go make sure the windows in the living room are tightly secured.
So Graham runs off and its just me and Penderton, and his eyes are rolling around like he's gone all Pentecostal, and I can't take it. I lean down to his ear and whisper to him, and tell him I don't even care about him and Susan and all that mess. I knew, and I forgave him, and it was alright and all, he was a good man. Then I stand up and take a bead at my old friend Penderton's head. Poor old Penderton, with his nice boat and his golf clubs, his generous gifts, his poor infidelities, I fix his forehead in my sights, and I'm steadying my hand so I don't miss when I hear some shots and Graham comes running back into the room and starts yelling at me that there's zombies in the house. Sure enough they come in right behind him, and I let loose on them, backing away. Graham runs into the corner, and he's trying to load his pistol, but I can see the bullets falling from his shaking hands. I dust five or six of the fuckers. I breathe in the gunpowder and listen.
How many were there I ask Graham. I don't know he says. There are no sounds from the rest of the house, just the rain hitting the windows like a freight train. You get that pistol loaded quick, I tell him. I'm out of ammo myself and reach in my jacket pocket for another clip. That's when Penderton stands up again, poor old Penderton, with nothing in his eyes. He stands and regards me. Come on Penderton, I say. I can see Graham in the corner fumbling with his pistol. Penderton steps toward me, his arms out and his fingers curled, and I reach right back at him, because this is what you do, this is how you keep living, and I say to him come on Penderton, come on you fucker, come on and kill me again.