The Death Doll

The Death Doll © 2014 Brian P. White

All rights reserved.

Didi was once the darling of the porn industry, baring it all for the world on the silver screen.

Then came the zombie apocalypse.

Two years later, she’s killing every flesh-eating corpse in her path to protect a group of unlikely survivors in northwest Iowa. Unfortunately, she hides a terrifying secret that threatens every life she defends. For nothing left on Earth that creeps or crawls is as lethal as The Death Doll.

TRIGGER WARNING: contains violence, adult language and themes (i.e. prejudice and sexual references); I pray the payoff is worth any discomfort. Recommended for 18+

Paula Herrin collapsed amid the corn stalks, her legs aching from years without running. Her throat burned as if she had just swallowed shards of glass. She shivered all over from both the biting October air and the horde of zombies closing in on her. Nothing seemed to stop them from coming straight at her; not the high wall she helped build, the wild-grown cornfields in which she lay, or the early morning twilight. Her son died with the rest of the world two years ago, her husband’s pickup truck had broken down eight months ago, those things destroyed her house mere minutes ago—thanks to that miserable Isaac—and now she couldn’t run anymore. She had nothing left.

Her husband, Sean, yanked her to her feet. “Come on, Paula. We can’t stop now.”

Ever the optimist, God bless him, she thought, but she didn’t have the strength to fight him—let alone those creatures. She could only plod along with him behind Isaac and young Pepe.

The dead mob all but ran after them as they growled at her through dark, broken teeth. The frosty wind seemed to have no effect on them beyond fanning their tattered clothes, which in some cases exposed rotten genitalia. Their remaining flesh dangled from their bones—some like sun-dried fruit, others like fat on a grill—yet they tore down her fence and her home. If minced meat on two feet had the power to take everything from her, what was the point in going on?

A sudden stop made her spill forward just outside the cornfields. Her husband caught her in time, but it didn’t matter. More of those things stood in their way.

“We’re surrounded,” Pepe yelled. “They’re all over the place!”

“No shit, college boy,” Isaac said. She never had a problem with black people, but this asshole had no right to speak after what he had cost her.

“Shut up and let me think,” Sean snapped, but she failed to see what he could come up with now. Pepe was right: they were surrounded.

Oddly, she smiled. Even as the rotten monsters reached for her, a strange sort of peace washed over her. No more running. No more hiding. I’ll see my Adam again.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled, the huddled mob in the clearing flew apart in a ball of flames, and a powerful force knocked her to the ground. Pain erupted through her head as soon as it hit the frozen soil. Her head swam, and her ears rang. She called out for her husband, but her voice came out faint and congested. She yelled louder.

Another blast ripped through the other mob, showering her with chunks of earth and human remains. The ringing in her ears slowly gave way to sharp, guttural growls and the twisting sound of flame on the stalks. The sweet fragrance of burning corn assaulted her nostrils while the smoke burned her eyes. While fighting to see—and breathe—she found her husband among the blazing crops with their guests, invited and otherwise. She crawled toward him to pull him away, coughing the entire time.

A legless corpse crawled straight for her. She fought all her aches to help her husband stand until a sharp whoosh startled her, like something hacking meat and bone. She froze.

A shadow pierced the haze, chopping down the dead in its path with a curved blade. The Grim Reaper came at last, but stopped attacking and stood before Paula in knee-high boots. Black leather hugged a pair of shapely legs. Four holstered pistols graced its—or, rather, her—curvy waist. A black device with a lens rested in one gloved hand and the blood-drenched sword in the other. A white boat neck shirt peeked through a black leather jacket, as clean and carefree as the smile on the young woman’s face.

“You can stay, or you can come with me,” the woman in black said, then she walked away.

Not one to pass up a rescue, Paula followed the stranger past all the charred and skewered bodies, helping her husband walk while covering her nose and mouth with her sleeve.

“Thanks for the save,” Sean said through a coughing fit.

“Someone’s got to,” the woman said right before beheading a few loose corpses, holding her device against her left eye. She sheathed her sword and pointed at the bed of a black Ford truck on the highway, saying, “In the back if you’re coming.”

Paula didn’t want to freeze even more, but she didn’t want to get eaten, either. She hopped into the truck bed with her husband and sat against the cabin window next to a large bag of grain. Pepe and the jerk joined them. She turned her head to see the driver, but a sudden burst of acceleration threw her onto her face.

Sean pulled her up and leaned with her against the grain bag, giving her a small measure of warmth from the merciless wind chill. From there, she watched her property fade into the darkness. Her home of thirteen years. Gone. For no reason at all.

She noticed the loosely closed boxes around the truck. “What’s in those?”

Pepe dug through the box closest to him, pulling up various computer parts and mechanical devices. He dropped it all, sat back, and crossed his arms. “Computer stuff.”

Paula flinched. “What can you even do with that anymore?”

Pepe shrugged as he hugged himself behind the box.

Isaac stared at the dim horizon like the cold had no effect on him. He could’ve frozen, for all she cared. She would’ve strangled the vulgar brute if she had the energy.

Sean pulled a duffel bag with his foot and peeled back part of the opening, revealing toys.

Paula tilted a carton near her and revealed leather straps and bike chains. She shuddered. “What kind of people are these?”

Sean shoved the box aside and continued hugging Paula. “Hopefully not slave drivers.”

“Or sex maniacs,” Pepe added with a weak staccato voice, shivering fiercely.

Isaac scoffed. “Let ‘em try dat shit wit’ me,” he said in that lazy way he talked. That man cut or replaced more consonants than the French language.

Paula didn’t bother to correct him; her mind was too busy spinning nightmare scenarios of her mysterious saviors’ intentions. She peeked into the cabin window for a hint and saw their rescuer laughing with the driver. His hand blocked his face, holding what looked like a cellular phone. She had not seen one of those things work in a long time. She wondered what else these people were capable of doing, or wanted, with them.

She pulled a coiled bike chain from the box of belts and hid it under her arm. Sean caught on and did the same.

The horizon behind them began to glow with the first shades of morning blue. Down the road, their sister town came into view. From this distance, Sibley looked as tame as it had before the horrible plague spread through Lyon County—not that she had seen any since the wall went up. Up close, however, its cluttered yards and bloodstained homes told a different story. Brittle weeds stretched through cracks in the deteriorating streets, which were otherwise empty. This place was as dead as their home in Ocheyedan.

The truck stopped in front of the old Max Theater. The words PLAZA DE VIDA adorned its marquee in big black letters. Wooden walls blocked off the alley between the Max and the old pharmacy, both roofs topped with spade-tipped metal fencing. In fact, so were all the roofs on the block, and all their windows had been neatly boarded.

A rooster crowed nearby, but something even closer growled. She froze at the sight of a few approaching corpses. She reached for her chain.

Three faint pops startled her, and the monsters fell with holes in their heads. The driver smiled back at her over his suppressed pistol outside his side window, claiming, “All clear.” He was marginally handsome with almond-shaped, sepia-colored eyes and a few days’ worth of facial growth. He didn’t look like a maniac. So far.

“You could’ve left me one,” the woman said as she got out of the truck, wearing a pouty look that failed to suppress a smile.

“You got plenty in that field,” the driver said, his wry tone bordering on flirty. Married, perhaps, and better so than Paula was with her husband these days.

The woman crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him while rounding the front of the truck. She pounded on the theater door, which quickly opened for her, and waved everyone inside. “Coming?”

Paula’s heart beat a little faster. “How do we know it’s safe?” she asked.

“I won’t eat you if that’s what you’re worried about. You don’t have to come in, you know,” the woman added as she went inside, leaving the door open.

Paula wanted to believe what lay inside was safe, and the look in Sean’s eye told her he wanted to find out. She steadied her breathing and nodded. While he slid over the side of the truck bed, followed by Pepe and the jerk, she tucked the bike chain into her pants. She descended as carefully as she could onto the street. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the Ford drove off and rounded the nearest corner, leaving her and her companions with nothing left but a chance to take.

She headed in. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a blast of warm air burned her face. She gasped with surprise, then sighed with relief as her shivering abated. That bliss quickly ended when three shotguns cocked and aimed at her and her party’s heads. She quickly threw her hands up.

Behind the weapons, three middle-aged people eyed them warily. The braided blonde looked familiar, but not the curly blond man and older Native American.

“Just relax and this will all be over with painlessly,” the blonde said.

Sean frowned. “Hey, you’re Jerri Schacht, aren’t you?”

The blonde jerked her shotgun barrel up at Sean, who threw his hands up higher. “Talk later, and don’t move unless we say so.”

Sean nodded quickly. “Okay, okay.”

Behind the gunners, the right of two theater doors opened, and a young Hispanic girl emerged with a sour look on her ovoid face. She had to be fourteen or fifteen years old, but that didn’t stop her from frisking each of the four in Paula’s party like she had no scruples. Paula’s heart raced the lower the girl got, but to her fortune the chain went unnoticed. Isaac uttered two words of complaint before the Native American advanced his rifle barrel. Paula took the moment to look around the small theater lobby. Clean, and the lights still worked. The air even smelled of fresh popcorn from a working machine on the concession stand, inside of which lay sharpened gardening tools and sports equipment.

When the girl finished her search, she backed away and nodded at the other three, who backed away and opened the right theater door.

“Welcome to Plaza de Vida,” came from behind them as the leather-clad stranger locked the door behind herself, “where we give those being taken to death a new chance at life. I’m your hostess, Didi.”

A sword-wielding, grenade-throwing zombie killer named Didi? Strange, Paula thought, then asked, “Is that short for something?”

“We’ll answer all your questions in three days,” Didi said as she strode past everyone with a wave toward the open theater door. “Until then, you’ll stay in here.”

“Three days?” Isaac whined. “Wassup with dat?”

The three locals glanced between each other as if something was about to happen. Paula wanted to know the answer to his question, but she wanted to throttle him for asking like that.

“We have to assume at least one in every new group is infected,” Didi said over her shoulder.

“We’re not,” Paula said automatically.

“We’ll find out in three days, won’t we?” Didi replied without breaking her steady stride. “I think you’ll appreciate the digs.”

Paula looked for reassurance from her husband, but she caught him eyeing Didi’s derriere. She elbowed his ribs and entered the theater.

She was amazed that the auditorium looked as it always had. The red velvet curtains were well maintained, the screen was intact, and the floor lights and sconces along the walls glowed as brightly as ever. All the seats had been converted into blanketed beds, bars blocked a now tinted projection room window, and a Port-a-Potty blocked the street-side emergency exit.

Didi watched them like a grinning statue, her eyes moving from one person to the next. The way her make-up caked on the edges of her black choker should’ve been itchy, but she didn’t jerk or quiver a bit. She didn’t even blink; she just watched like a lioness ready to pounce.

“How long have you been here?” Sean asked.

Didi aimed her head at Sean like a robot. “We’ll answer your questions in three days. Meantime,” she turned and headed for the main doors, “breakfast will be ready in two hours. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Paula started to follow. “Wait. What do we do now?”

“Rest,” Didi replied just before the doors closed behind her. The heavy clanking of locks startled Paula.

“Oh, dey did not just lock me in,” Isaac grumbled as he marched up to the doors and yanked on them. He banged on them and yelled, but no one responded. “Gotta lock a brutha down. Izzat it?”

“We’re in here, too, you know,” Pepe said.

“Wha’choo say, kid?” Isaac snapped as he encroached on the young man.

Pepe threw his hands out defensively. “It’s obvious they’re waiting to see who gets sick, so they don’t get attached to anyone about to die.”

“They just looked us over,” Paula said. “What more do they want?”

Isaac waved off Pepe and examined the blocked emergency exit.

Sean tried to hold Paula, but she backed away and sat on one of the makeshift beds. Whatever was about to happen was because that lovable sap couldn’t turn away a pushy intruder, not even with his father’s old rifle. He was too hopeful for his own good, and hers. He shrugged and sat on the next bed. “She said we’ll be here for three days. We should make the most of it.”

Paula threw her arms out in frustration. “Doing what?”

Isaac waved off the Port-A-Potty, marched up to one of the improvised beds, and climbed in. “I’m-a pass out. My breakfast betta be der when I get up.” He rolled over, and that was that.

Pepe flapped his arms and found a place to sit.

Paula hugged her arms. “Let’s hope Didi’s as friendly in three days as she is now.”

Sean nodded. “Me, too. A new chance sounds good right about now.”

“Yeah, but to do what?” she asked.

The uncertain look on his face brought her no comfort.

Thank you for reading this chapter. I’d really love to read your comments, as I often struggle with beginnings. I hope you enjoy as you read further. Follow me for more updates and stories as they come.