AN EXCERPT FROM 'ROCKETS RED GLARE'
BY
BOWIE V. IBARRA
Below is an excerpt from the short story 'Rocket's Red Glare' from the award winning zombie short story collection, 'Holiday of the Dead'. It's one of many short stories written by some of the genre's heavy hitters, including Wayne Simmons, Eric S.Brown, Joe McKinney, Iain McKinnon, David Dunwoody, Remy Porter, and even John Russo, one of the writers of the original 'Night of the Living Dead'.
Check it out, then pick up a copy for yourself today
here, or at the link at the end.
ROCKETS RED GLARE
BY
BOWIE V. IBARRA
COPYRIGHT 2010, 2013 BOWIE IBARRA AND WILD WOLF PRESS
Calavera City, Texas
Reloj Co.
“Litte
faggots popping fireworks for the Fourth of July tonight?”
Trevor and
Todd’s sole purpose was to drink beer and make people feel miserable at
Calavera City Community College. It was
an even easier task when the boys weren’t in class. The five people they rolled up on were some
of their favorite targets, both in and out of school.
“Don’t you
guys have a douchebag meeting tonight or something?”
Geoff was always the first to
respond of the five friends. He gave a
high-five to his two buddies, Bruce and Lawrence, who were standing next to him
when he uttered the response. They
immediately began laughing. The laughter
was just another way to get under Trevor and Todd’s skin.
“You’re just jealous because we can
afford them, asshole,” said Belinda, joining the boys with a barb of her
own. Heather, who was standing by
Belinda, laughed along with the boys.
She knuckle-bumped Belinda.
“You’re the
only girl I know, Belinda,” said Todd, “That would settle for a little queer
boyfriend like Bruce who doesn’t even have a car.”
“I’ll take
personality over having a car any day, asshole,” she said, flipping him the
classic ‘boney-maroney’ middle finger.
“Why don’t
we just go inside your house?” said Todd, indicating her home. “You can see how big my personality is.”
“Fuck off,”
she replied as Trevor and Todd chuckled.
Two large
military trucks pulled up behind Trevor’s Mustang. The bright lights of the first vehicle cut
through the early evening. The driver
honked.
With the arrogance of a true jerk,
Trevor took a long and defiant swig off a beer before saying, “When you girls
want to hang out with some real men, call us.”
He revved the engine to his Mustang GT before peeling out in front of
the kids. The white smoke of burnt
rubber drifted from the pavement to the air as the car shrieked like a
Detroit-born banshee before speeding away.
The driver of the military truck grinded the vehicle into gear and drove
away. The five friends laughed.
“I should
have thrown a bottle-rocket in their car,” said Bruce.
“That would
have been hilarious,” said Heather.
“Speaking
of,” said Lawrence. “Let’s send another
salvo.” He handed four bottle-rockets to
his friends and they immediately placed them in their bottles on the sidewalk.
“Try and
delay the lighting,” suggested Belinda.
“Let’s see if we can get them to pop in one-second intervals.”
“Hey babe,
this isn’t the fireworks at the Tower of the Americas in San Antonio, now,”
chuckled Bruce.
“Just do
it. Ready?”
The friends
had their punks lit and ready. “Go.”
They each
waited for the person beside them to light their fuse before they lit
theirs. As the last of the five friends
lit theirs, the first rocket went off.
Then the second, third, fourth, and finally the fifth rocket took
flight. Like Belinda had planned, they
whistled into the sky in a crude, yet coordinated, salvo. They burst in the sky in intervals, and the
friends cheered.
“Respect
the soldiers,” came a voice. The friends
turned around. They knew who it
was. It was Mr. Fuentes, who had rolled
up on his bike. Or as students at
Calavera City Community College knew him, he was Pete the Nutty Professor. “Respect the soldiers on the Fourth of
July. They are with God now. They died so you could live here in America.”
“Guy’s
nuttier than squirrel turds,” whispered Bruce.
“Leave him
alone,” said Heather. “He’s just old.”
“And
annoying,” said Geoff, lighting a small string of Black Cat fireworks. As the fuse lit, Geoff yelled out, “Hey,
Nutty Professor, here’s to the soldiers.”
Before his
friends could stop him, Geoff tossed the firecrackers at the old man. The old man whimpered in fear as the
fireworks lit up the ground around him.
The blasts of the tiny explosives rattled his eardrums, and he got back
on his bike and rode away.
“Respect
the soldiers, you little bastards.
Respect the soldiers,” he said as he rode away.
The five
friends couldn’t help but laugh. It was
like watching a guy in an old western dance around the ground as a villain was
shooting at his feet.
“Geoff,”
said Heather, hitting his arm. “That was
mean.” She was still chuckling.
“You
thought it was funny,” said Geoff.
“It was
funny,” said Bruce.
“He’s
always talking religion,” said Bruce.
“Like my mom says, if he was mad at us, he should forgive us.”
“I forgive
you,” said Belinda, walking up to her man.
Her hands held in a pantomime of religious fervor. “I forgive you.”
The five
laughed again and found more fireworks to set off.
But as they
had a laugh, Trevor and Todd were plotting against them.
“Hey, check
it out,” said Trevor, indicating Deputy Jacobs at the Whataburger. “It’s the sheriff.”
“Let’s get
out of here,” he said. “If he sees us
drinking, we’re done for.”
“But it’s
Deputy Jacobs,” said Trevor. “He’s my
brother-in-law. He owes me a favor,
too.” Trevor slammed his beer and threw
the empty can in the back seat and drove to the restaurant. He pulled into the parking lot and parked the
car right beside the deputy’s vehicle.
“Watch,” said Trevor, stepping out of the car and walking to his
lawman-in-law.
In the car,
Deputy Jacobs was eating a triple-cheeseburger as Trevor knocked on the
window. Diced onions had already fallen
on his belly, and the deputy made no effort to wipe them off as he rolled down
the window.
“Trevor,”
said the deputy, talking with his mouth full.
“What are you doing?”
“Well,
brother, I just wanted to report some lawbreakers to you.”
The deputy
made no effort to finish the bite from the burger before he stuffed five French
fries in his mouth. “What do you
got?” The colors of the food in his
mouth repulsed Trevor. Gruesome bread
melded with ketchup and meat in his mouth.
It was a disgusting collage.
Mustard was on his chin, but Trevor made no effort to tell him.
“There’s a
group of kids popping fireworks just two blocks away. There’s a restriction on popping fireworks in
the city limits, right?”
“That’s
right.” The deputy made no effort to finish
eating before he spoke. Saliva laced the
masticated food in his full mouth. A
small piece of lettuce hung on his moustache.
As if on
cue, the fiery projectiles of a Roman Candle lit up the sky, exactly where
Trevor was indicating.
“Well, as
you can see,” said Trevor, smiling and showing off his crooked teeth, “those
kids are clearly ignoring the burn ban in town setting off those fireworks.”
Deputy
Jacobs took another big bite of the burger.
“I’ll be right over there, Trev,” he said, talking with his mouth
full. “Thanks for the info.”
“Anything
for my brother,” said Trevor, giving a thumbs up.
The deputy
had another question. “Have you been
drinking, by the way?”
“Brother,”
said Trevor, slyly. “I don’t drink and
drive.”
Trevor got
in the car. Arrogantly, he cracked open
another Natural Light and toasted his in-law.
Todd shrugged, and toasted back as they pulled out.
Deputy
Jacobs had a few more bites before he finished his burger and fries. He would go after the kids soon.
The five friends
were having a time just blocks away.
“Man, those
were awesome,” said Bruce.
“We got the
heavy duty Roman Candles,” said Heather.
“And we
haven’t even pulled out the mortars yet,” said Belinda, smiling.
“Ya’ll got
mortars?” said Geoff. “I want to light
one.”
“We’ll have
to finish with the mortars,” said Lawrence.
“Always go with the big finish last.”
“True,
true,” said Belinda. “Right Bruce,” she
winked. “Big finish.”
Bruce
smiled. “Oh, yeah. Big finish.”
“You guys
are so gross,” said Heather, laughing.
“Big
explosion, right Bruce.”
Bruce
blushed. “Oh, yeah.”
“You guys
are nasty,” said Lawrence.
They set
off another series of fireworks, oohing and ahhing at each display.
Another car
pulled up at the mouth of the street. At
first, the five just thought it was a regular car. But when the overhead red and blue lights
came on, they knew it was the cops.
“I thought
we were out of the city limits,” said Geoff.
“We’re
about a hundred yards inside the limit,” blushed Belinda.
The car was
speeding to them.
“Quick,”
said Belinda. “Into my house.”
The five
picked up their fireworks and ran into Belinda’s house. They slammed the door as the car reached the
house.
“My mom’s
coming back soon, so we can’t stay here.
Out the back,” said Belinda. The
team quickly followed her out the back door and into the back yard.
“What now?”
asked Lawrence.
“Just
follow me,” she said, walking through the back gate into an adjacent
alley. Beside the alley was a crude
barrier that the team bypassed to go into a dry concrete waterway. They followed Belinda under a nearby bridge.
The team
assembled, expecting to be pursued.
“So,” asked
Heather. “What are we doing here?”
“Let’s give
panzon a little time to lose interest,” stated Belinda. “Then let’s go to the cemetery and pop
fireworks.”
“Oh, no,”
said Heather. “That’s too scary. What with all those dead people.”
“They’re
dead, Heather,” said Lawrence. “Died in
wars. It’s the military cemetery, not
the public one. They’re not going to
bother us.”
“Dead
soldiers tell no tales,” said Geoff. “I
wonder if they still have their weapons.”
“Shut up,”
said Belinda. “They don’t bury military
soldiers with their weapons.”
“The
military cemetery would be the best place to shoot more fireworks, though,”
said Heather.
“It’s outside the city limits,
too,” said Bruce. “We could pop them
there and not get in It’s a
public place.”
trouble.
“Just let
this marinate,” said Belinda. “We’ll
head in and have some fun in just a few.
Tubby shouldn’t be too long.”
The five
friends spent the next few minutes talking about school, general gossip, who
was boffing who, and other general discussion topics when Belinda thought it
was best to go. In that fifteen-minute
period, the remains of the day were swallowed by the horizon and replaced by
stars and the moon in a black sky. The
five friends crept out of the dry waterway and walked to the cemetery.
“Hey, did
you guys hear the rumor that there’s a secret military base under here?” asked
Lawrence.
“What?”
said Geoff.
“Yeah,”
Lawrence continued. “The government
sponsored renovations on the cemetery in the early ‘80s. They had standard renovation equipment from
the city. But there was equipment here
that was used for tunneling. It took
like three years before the construction crews left.”
“It’s
true,” said Bruce as the five entered the cemetary. “My dad told me about it once.”
“I heard
there was a UFO base under it,” said Belinda.
“It was
that they made UFO’s, not an actual base,” said Lawrence. “And I heard it, too. They might be hiding one.”
“Or two,”
said Belinda.
The five
friends took the main road into the cemetery.
It was a large cemetery, over 5 acres of land. They decided it would be best to head to the
back portion of the cemetery and pop the fireworks there.
As the kids
began setting up their bottle rockets, Roman candles, and other fireworks in
the distance, Trevor and Todd waited in their car nearby. They lingered until the five were in the
distance before quietly closing the iron-gate to the cemetery.
“Hand me
the chain,” said Trevor, getting it from Todd.
It was a simple bike security chain, but it would be efficient enough to
lock the five in.
As Trevor
finished locking it, he switched the levers to the combination to its home
position. Both could not contain their
glee.
“This is
going to be great,” said Trevor, heading back to the car.
“Hell
yeah,” said Todd. “I’m going to make
them beg. Beg, beg, beg.”
The two
returned to the vehicle about a block away and cracked open two more beers. They could see the fireworks in the
distance. The explosions in the sky
displayed warm colors, a joyful expression of the Fourth of July.
Unfortunately,
just below the five friends, there was a not-so-joyful explosion. The kids might not have known exactly what
was below them from their earlier conversation, but the speculation that the
government was conducting experiments under the cemetery for years was spot
on. Government-sponsored scientists had
been conducting tests with chemical weapons for years. The explosion caused by
miscalculation and fate provided sick colors, and a fearful expression of death
that filled the secret halls of the base.
The explosion rocked the facility, cracking its ceiling, blasting the
scientists up against the walls. The
device that was put together with almost perfect precision now belched
its deadly gas into the air. The
underground base was immediately shut down and contained. Its inhabitants dead.
Dead, at
least, for the moment....
=======
Read the rest of the story in the award-winning zombie holiday horror compilation
'Holiday of the Dead' from Wild Wolf Publications today. Available in paperback and Kindle.
=======
Bowie Ibarra is the author of the 'Down the Road' zombie horror series from Permuted Press and Simon and Schuester. His latest zombie story,
The Fall of Austin, tells the story of military, police, convicts, and citizens of the Texas capitol as they deal with the zpoc.
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