“Which was a foot in front of your face and considerably thinner,” said Dara.
I shrugged. “Any other ideas?” Not surprisingly, there was no response. “Thought so.” And then, once again, I concentrated, constricting the radiation into a sort of internal beam, building it up, Up, UP. And then, when I could no longer hold it in, out it shot, through my pupils, two invisible rays that lanced everything in front of it, slicing through long-dead skin like the sharpest of knives.
You could smell it before you saw it, the stench of searing flesh, worse as the water seeped inside and mixed with the radiated tissue within. Then came the steam, the groans notching up, the zombies crashing to the floor as I shifted my head this way and that, taking them down one by one by one. Heck, Wyatt Earp had nothing on this old queen.
“Can I say it?” asked Dara, finally smiling.
“Be my guest.”
“Well fuck me.”
“Has a nice ring to it,” I retorted, grabbing their hands as we pushed through the crashing throng.
“KILL THEM!” we heard yet again, though she was smart not to come down and try it herself. I’ll give her credit for that much.
“Better luck next time, bitch!” I hollered in return as we sidestepped the zombies, who were now falling on all sides of us, creating one obstacle after the next, trapping Blondella and her minions inside as we in turn headed for the emergency exit toward the rear of the club.
Minutes later, we were outside, the sun yawning its way to life, turning the streets a warm golden hue. The door slammed behind us, the sound of the alarm suddenly muffled.
“My hero,” cooed Dara before planting a kiss on my cheek and a pat on my ass.
“Heroine,” I corrected her, then flicked my wrist her way. “And poppycock.”
“I used to know a drag king by that name.”
“Huh?” huhed Ricky.
Dara grinned. “Papi Cock. Fierce he-dyke.”
Ricky looked my way. “Is she serious?”
I shrugged. “I can never tell.” Then I pointed down the street. “In any case, I say we put some major distance between us and this place, because once they dry out, my beams won’t have the same effect, the radiation having nothing to mix with.” I grinned as I said it: my beams. I mean, that’s pretty fucked up that I had these super powers all along and didn’t even know about them.
Made a guy/girl wonder what else he/she could do by putting his/her mind to it.
***
Twenty minutes later, we were far enough away to be able to breathe a little easier, if only in our heads.
“So now what?” asked Dara as we stood in the middle of a mostly-deserted street, the silence around us all-enveloping, like a crypt or a tomb. Oh, what I would have given to hear a horn beep or a bird coo or a bum ask for a quarter at that very moment. Heck, Miley Cyrus could’ve sung right then and I would’ve cried like a friggin’ baby.
“You mean,” said I, “do we head back to Liberty Island, where we don’t even know who we can trust anymore, or do we stay here and fight? Because Blondella is a lot of things—seriously, a lot—but a quitter ain’t one of them. And if she came after the humans before, she’ll do it again.” It was then that a pit ricocheted around my belly. “Humans,” I repeated. “She sent an army after ours back in Utah. We have to go home and save them.”
Dara snickered. “You called it home. You’ve never done that before, not in that way. Not in three hundred years”
I paused and scratched my chin, if only for effect, because, like those horns and birds and bums and Miley, itching was also something I sorely missed. “Well, I suppose it’s the closest thing we’ve got.”
Ricky sighed. “Which is more than I can say.” The sigh repeated. “In any case, it’ll take weeks and weeks before those zombies make it from here to Utah, if ever. Which gives us enough time to, um, well . . .”
“Yeah,” said I. “To well what? To kill Blondella? To find out who if any of the humans are on her side? To save Liberty Island from certain destruction? Or just save our own asses?”
“I do so like my ass,” quipped Dara.
“Ditto,” I readily agreed.
Ricky shrugged. “I plead the fifth.”
“Wise move,” said I, patting his shoulder. “So, do we take a vote then?” I lifted up my hand. “I say we stay and fight. Those queens on the island, more than likely, can’t be trusted. And if we go back there, they might try and do to us what Blondella just tried. And, with their bendy limbs, they might have better luck at it.”
Dara lifted her hand next. “I agree. Those queens came and got us. Perhaps it was for protection or perhaps it was out of loyalty to Blondella, who they clearly worship. In any case, regardless of who did what or who knew what, it was still a trap.”
Ricky was the third and final vote. He pointed to the few zombies that trudged this way and that. “At least here we have a dedicated army at our disposal.” He looked my way. “Or at least you do.”
Which was true, but if I amassed fifty, a hundred, two hundred zombies, Blondella could do the same. And what would that get us but a mess of even deader zombies. No, we needed to infiltrate the enemy and take that ancient tramp down, then make sure the islanders knew she was in fact down, then have them fly us home before the zombies reached my minions. Easy peasy.