-02-

“You Don’t Want More, Xander. You Need More!”

Sergeant Xapper went back inside his hut. The chaos outside as the screams of soldiers and the groans of zombies continued. The cacophony was drowned out by the roaring in Xapper’s stomach. He thought of the zombies outside and his mouth watered.

“No! No goddamn way in hell am I eating zombies!” declared Xapper.

“But they look so tasty, don’t they, Xander?” asked Xeak.

“You wicked little stuffed piece of trash!” shouted Xapper.

“If I’m trash, does that mean you’ll eat me, Xander?” asked Xeak.

“I am not going out there and—”

“What about the soldiers out there, Xander? Are you just going to abandon them?”

Xapper gritted his teeth. The evil doll had a point. Good men were dying out there and Xapper had a duty to fight the invading horde. Xapper then went to his cot and reached underneath for a suitcase.

He opened the suitcase and pulled out a photo. He smiled at seeing it then he tucked it away in his shirt pocket. Xeak’s voice echoed in his head “Is that your daughter, Xander? Daughter, daughter, daughter?”

“Hush up, you. Talk shit about my baby girl and I will take you to hell with me.”

“It’s the end of days, Xander. Hell is here on earth.”

Xapper ignored Xeak’s commentary as he got himself ready. He put what belongings of his he could into his old rucksack he had since joining the military. He then went to his tiny gun safe.

The commander of the base, Lieutenant Pyre, had striked rules about personal firearms. Xapper was allowed to have his one antique gun, a Colt Peacemaker revolver. It belonged to his great-grandfather, who was a frontier sheriff, and it was passed down from generation to generation.

“Giddy-up, cowboy-Xander, hehehehe,” chuckled Xeak as Xapper put on his bandolier and holster belt.

“Laugh it up but this old girl’s still got some kick left,” said Xapper as he loaded and spun the revolver’s chamber.

The last item Xapper retrieved was his old metal baseball bat. In his youth, he had dreams of being in the major leagues. He took a few experimental swings and Xeak chuckled. Xapper ignored the doll’s mockery and attached the bat to his rucksack.

Xapper put on the rucksack and threw open his door. The fighting had moved away from Xapper’s hut and was migrating towards the armory. The armory was a bunker and made the perfect place for the soldiers to take shelter.

There seemed to be no zombies near Xapper’s hut. He stepped away from his door and noticed someone on the ground, leaning against the side of his hut. He recognized them immediately.

“Lieutenant?” said Xapper as he stared down at his commanding officer.

Lieutenant Pyre was covered in bite marks and his eyes were white. He was now a zombie, smiling wide, a carbine rifle in his lap. Pyre was loading bullets into a magazine with unsteady hands. He smiled at Xapper with a mad, undead gaze.

“Full. Metal. Jacket,” groaned Pyre.

“Awe hell no,” said Xapper.

He then drew his peacemaker and fired off a shot in one motion. He shot Pyre square in the head and the zombie fell sideways. Blood painted Xapper’s hut, it was black and smelled sweet with a hint of spice.

The smell made Xapper’s stomach growl. But out of respect to his commanding officer, he shuffled away from the body. Xeak was ordering him to eat but Xapper refused. He was willing to endure the pain to avoid eating a zombie.

Then, Pyre moved and started to stand up.

Xapper stared in disbelief. “No! I shot him in the head! That should kill a zombie, right?”

“Not these zombies, Xander,” said Xeak. “Shooting the brain isn’t going to stop them.”

Pyre reached out and staggered towards Xapper. His gaping mouth still grinned and dark blood dripped from his jaw. The closer Pyre came, the more Xapper salivated. Xapper’s new cursed instincts then kicked in.

He knew what he had to do.

“I gotta eat the brain, don’t I?” asked Xapper in despair.

“Get it!” Xeak encouraged him.

Pyre grabbed Xapper but Xapper was stronger. He easily wrestled the zombie off of him. Xapper then stuck his thumb into the bullet hole in Pyre’s skull. He then ripped open the top with ease, exposing Pyre’s brain.

“Why in the hell am I so damn strong?!” Xapper asked loudly.

“Against them, you are the perfect predator, Xander. Get it. Get it!”

With one hand, Xapper grabbed Pyre’s brain. It was green, slimy, and squirmed like a slug. He pulled but the spinal cord prevented the brain from completely being removed from the skull. Xapper put one foot on Pyre to add additional leverage.

The zombie was no longer smiling and it flailed out of desperation.

Xapper kicked hard and the spinal cord tore. A long piece of cord hung from the brain as he held it with both hands. Pyre stopped moving and the whole body ceased altogether. All but the brain and spinal cord.

The brain pulsated and squirmed. The spinal cord wrapped around Xapper’s arm like a snake. The spinal cord’s grip was crushing him. Xapper had no choice but to take a bite of the brain.

The brain matter tore like a stringy brownie between his teeth. The gray matter fell onto his tongue and . . . it was the most bland thing Xapper had ever eaten. It was so bland Xapper considered spitting it out.

Pyre’s spinal cord twisted and contracted his arm. And Xapper hurried, eating the brain as quickly as he could. It went down rough as he chewed little and quickly swallowed.

“Gotta eat more, Xander,” said Xeak. “Keep eating before you lose your arm.”

“Are you—lying to me—you sick little bastard?” asked Xapper between bites.

“Keep eating, Xander. Eat more!”

The brain was so flavorless and the texture was like eating raw dough. Xapper wanted salt, some pepper, anything to make the brain taste like something. Xapper finally came to the last bits around the spinal cord.

As he finished, Pyre’s spinal cord finally stopped crushing his arm. Xapper felt unsatisfied as he threw the cord off his arm. The brain was the worst thing he ever ate. Even the rotten steaks he had last night were tastier and more satisfying.

He looked to the kitchen and considered raiding the pantry for salt and seasoning.

The armory then blew up without warning and debris flew passed Xapper.

“What in hell?!” screamed Xapper as he ran away from the explosion.

“Looks like your fellow soldiers went out with a bang, Xander. Hehehehe,” giggled Xeak.

“Of course the rookies would blow up the armory,” said Xapper as he took cover behind his hut. “Of course they would do something stupid like that.”

“No one to lead them, so they got ideas, Xander,” said Xeak. “Explosive ideas, hehehehe.”

“Alright, smartass, tell me then . . . is anyone on this base left alive?” asked Xapper.

“How would I know, Xander?” asked Xeak.

“Because you are a supernatural pain in my ass!” shouted Xapper. “You knew where the bad steak was and you knew I had to eat the brains. So, you cannot bullshit me into thinking you don’t know who is left alive.”

“Xander . . . everyone is already dead,” said Xeak. “Ripening as we speak.”

“Just tell me who is left on the base that ain’t dead!”

There was a long pause and Xeak finally said, “Told you, Xander. No one. And the bits of the dead that are left? They are ripening real good. And some are fried too, just like how you like them.”

“I’m getting the hell out of here,” said Xapper.

“You need keys for a car or truck and they are all on the zombies, Xander,” said Xeak.

“Bullshit! There has to be a jeep’s keys laying around or something,” said Xapper. Xeak said nothing and Xapper sneered. “Fine then! I’ll walk!”

“No, you need to eat, Xander!” shouted Xeak. His voice became nails-on-a-chalkboard in Xapper’s skull. “So many nice, tasty zombies to munch and crunch!”

“No—no way in hell am I eating anymore—” The pain came and silenced him. He was compelled to obey. “Alright, if I got to eat the brain to end these poor bastards, then I need some seasoning!”

Xapper entered the kitchen. He stuffed what salt and various seasonings he could into his rucksack. He put one salt shaker, a spoon, and a fork into his pockets. But put nothing else into the pocket with the photo, keeping the precious item safe and secure

He then grabbed the meat cleaver that he used last night to cut the cooked steak.

“You don’t need that, Xander,” said Xeak. “Use your hands.”

Xapper weighed the meat cleaver in his hands then dropped it on the table. He was able to rip open Pyre’s skull with ease. He did not need a meat cleaver, he was the meat cleaver.

Xapper exited the hut and was met with three zombies. Each zombie was mangled from the explosion and hobbled towards him with outstretched arms. Xapper grabbed one zombie’s arm and kicked with such brute force that the arm tore from the shoulder.

Xapper then used the severed arm as a melee weapon to knock the other two zombies down and he focused on one. The one left standing, the former owner of the arm, grabbed Xapper with the remaining arm. Xapper then took a bite out of the grappling arm.

It tasted really good. So good that Xapper had to take a bite of the arm in his hand. He threw the arm at the zombie and grabbed its head. He pulled and kicked until the head separated from the body.

The zombie’s severed head chomped at Xapper. Xapper wasted no time and used his thumbs to crack open the skull like a peanut. He did not even waste time removing the brain. Xapper salted the brain and used a spoon.

The salt helped make the brain go down better. The headless body twitched on the ground. Xapper kicked down the other two zombies that tried to stand back up. He was half eating and half focused on the other zombies struggling to attack him.

“Butter, some damn butter would make it better,” mumbled Xapper with his mouth full.

This time it only took a few bites before the headless body and head went silent. Xapper dropped the head and put away his spoon. The two zombies remaining stood then attacked and Xapper went to work.

🍴🧠

Xapper disposed of the two zombies without much trouble. It only took a few bites of each brain to stop the zombies from moving. But after those two, two more came at him. Then two more.

Four then six then more.

Xapper forgot how many men were on base. And he was grateful that Fort Blackwood was one of the bases that was only men. He hated the idea of eating an undead woman’s brain. But he knew that was a possibility for the future.

Zombie attacks, beat it up, crack open the skull, eat brain.

Xapper stopped removing the head from the body. He began to choke hold zombies and found a sweet spot to remove the top dome of the skull. Grab a zombie, open the skull, then eat the brain.

There were so many zombies on base that Xapper stopped using a spoon. He ran out of salt. So many bland brains, one after the other. Xapper had to grab what zombie parts he could and eat them. He did so just to give his mouth and tongue a break from the bland brains.

“Why in the hell are you bastards obsessed with brains?” Xapper asked the zombies. “They’re the worst damn thing ever to eat!”

Xapper then realized that Xeak had been quiet during his buffet of bland brains. He did not ask why or even speak to Xeak. He was actually enjoying the silence.

He lost count of how many brains he ate. How many body parts he chewed on. Xapper did discover that organs tasted the best. The intestines hung out from some of the zombies. And they were good, like spaghetti drenched in heavy sauce.

The lungs had a smokey flavor, at least a few that Xapper had. The stomach had too many flavors all at once, like a smoothie of all kinds of savory tastes. It was the heart though that was the best. It tasted like prime rib or steak cooked to perfection.

Xapper was so into the organs of zombies that he began to collect them. He made organized piles of organs in the kitchen. So much gore and dark gunk decorated the kitchen counters and floors. Xapper was so busy eliminating the walking dead that he forgot to question his own sanity.

At one point, between the battling of zombies and eating of brains, Xapper cried. He cried manly tears of frustration and despair. The cycle kept going and going: grab, open, eat. Grab, open, eat. Xapper begged for an end.

The one time he got close to the exit of the base, he considered retreating.

Then Xeak said, “Not yet, Xander. So many of them are still moving. And so ripe. Get it!”

“I don’t want anymore. I’m tapped out. Spent! I don’t want anymore, Xeak,” begged Xapper.

“Right, Xander. You don’t want more. You need more! Now, get back in there and eat!”

Xapper continued his rampage of hunger against the undead. It became laborious, tedious, and grating. But he noticed that the horde was thinning out by dusk. He pressed onward with a new energy, with a small hope that it would end soon.

And then a raccoon came out of nowhere and jumped on him.

The eyes were white and it snarled and clawed at him. Xapper threw the undead raccoon off him. And he stepped out of the way before an undead deer could trample him.

“Hells bells! Now the damn wildlife is after me?!” asked Xapper.

“They smell the blood. They hunger too, Xander,” said Xeak.

Xapper fled into the kitchen. The deer and raccoon gave chase. Xapper grabbed a heart and ate it as he ran from the kitchen and into the cafeteria. He shut the doors behind him and locked all the doors leading into the cafeteria.

He piled tables and chairs against the doors. All he wanted was a break. A moment of peace away from the zombies and brain eating.

“Some real ripe ones out there, Xander,” said Xeak as the doors were rammed and undead animals cried out. “Bet their tiny brains slide down like oysters.”

“Piss off, Xeak! My gut can’t take much more! How in the hell haven’t I ruptured my own stomach with all I ate?”

“You did eat a lot, Xander. Good boy! You will need to crap that out any second now.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m going to have to crap out—”

His bowls groaned. Xapper was fortunate that a lavatory was attached to the cafeteria. He rushed into the bathroom, locked the door behind him, and entered a stall.

Xapper just made it in time. What passed was hard and jagged and so dense that water splashed against Xapper. Xapper looked in the toilet at what came out and screamed in horror.

“Are those coals?! I’m crapping out rock?”

“At least they’re not red hot, Xander. Hehehehehe.”

“To hell with you, you damn dirty doll! OWAAAH!”

PLOP! PLOP! PLOP!

After several rocks passed, Xapper felt faint. He wanted to rest, he was beyond exhausted. But before he could close his eyes, he heard something scraping against the linoleum tiles.

Xapper watched the floor for shadows. He awkwardly grabbed his peacemaker and pulled back the hammer. More rocks slid out and he was too focused on the floor to care.

PLOP! PLOP! PLOP!

Xapper steadied his breathing. He kept his legs close to the toilet. He readied to fire at the slightest hint of movement. Then he heard something above him.

Xapper looked up and perched on the stall wall above him was the racoon. It grinned at him.

“You sneaky little shit!”

“PLOP!” echoed the toilet as the raccoon lept at him and Xapper opened fire.

To Be Continued . . .