Floodwater Zombies by Sean Thomas Fisher, Esmeralda Morin Page A
Authors: Sean Thomas Fisher, Esmeralda Morin
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ever!”
Alex stopped drawing and looked up. “How’s come, mom?”
Her icy glare landed hard on Doc. “Because smoking is for losers!”
Alex shifted on the bar stool to adjust the leather holster around his waist. “I just hope I don’t die from second-hand smoke,” he said heavily, returning to his artwork.
Doc rolled his eyes and swept a hand through his slicked back salt-and-pepper hair. “Here we go,” he mumbled.
“Oh honey, you’re not going to die,” she said softly, crossing over to him and flashing Doc a dirty look along the way. “I’ll deal with you later,” she whispered.
“Can’t wait,” he said dully, pushing through a wooden door with a porthole window behind the bar.
“Here ya go, bud,” Kourtney said, setting the Coke in front of him and slipping a folded up one dollar bill to him beneath the bar. “Nicely done, squirt,” she whispered, kissing him on the head. Alex took the money without looking and casually deposited it into his jeans. Kourtney squinted at the drawing on the dark wooden bar. “What is that?”
“A hearse.”
Kourtney’s eyebrows dipped. “A hearse?”
Alex nodded, inflating the tires with a black Crayola marker.
“Why are you drawing a hearse?”
He shrugged. “Saw it on TV. Reminded me of dad,” he said bleakly.
She sighed and tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind an ear.
“I wish he was still alive,” Alex said, the marker going back and forth like a polygraph needle when someone is lying.
Kourtney forced a tight smile. “I know you do, honey. So do I .”
He stopped coloring to take a drink from the frosty Coke, his cheeks sucking inward as the clear straw turned dark brown. Just after he swallowed a large burp rattled his lips. “Can I be Michael Myers for Halloween this year?”
She frowned. “Michael Myers? How do you even know who that is?”
“I saw it on TV,” he grinned. “But I wanna be Michael Myers when he was little, in a clown costume with a bloody knife.”
She laughed and tousled his hair. “One thing’s for sure, kiddo, you’ve sure got your daddy’s blood runnin through ya ,” she said, wiping down some greasy menus.
Rob and Mick watched the boy begin coloring again, their mouths agape.
“Never turn your back on that kid,” Mick leaned in and whispered.
Rob snorted, watching Alex switch out the black marker for a red one. “I just hope they don’t let him have scissors in school.”
Mick snorted. “If your daddy was killed in a hunting accident you’d turn morbid, too.”
Kourtney looked their way. “What was that?”
Both men raised their eyebrows and shook their heads, quickly turning to the nineteen inch standard-definition TV behind the bar, where a Twins game was all knotted up in late innings. The TV was nearly as dusty as the walleye mounted above it.
Two heavy-set women waddled up and set four empty glasses on the bar with a startling clatter.
“Four more, ladies?” Kourtney asked, depositing the glasses into the sink.
“Please, sweetie,” the one with blonde hair and brown roots said. “Can barely keep up with these girls tonight!” She turned her gaze upon Mick and Rob and examined them from top to bottom, like a cocky detective. “These jokers behavin themselves?”
“Hardly,” Kourtney said, scooping ice into four clean rocks glasses.
The red headed friend laughed sharply. “If their eyes were laser beams, the backside of your britches would have more holes than a golf course.”
Kourtney laughed and grabbed a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Sound jealous, Michelle,” Rob grunted, staring at her in the mirror behind the bar.
Michelle laughed, making her red curls shake. “You’re damn right I am!” She glanced at Alex and leaned into Mick’s ear. “I wish you’d ride me half as much as you ride your damn bike.”
Mick
Alex stopped drawing and looked up. “How’s come, mom?”
Her icy glare landed hard on Doc. “Because smoking is for losers!”
Alex shifted on the bar stool to adjust the leather holster around his waist. “I just hope I don’t die from second-hand smoke,” he said heavily, returning to his artwork.
Doc rolled his eyes and swept a hand through his slicked back salt-and-pepper hair. “Here we go,” he mumbled.
“Oh honey, you’re not going to die,” she said softly, crossing over to him and flashing Doc a dirty look along the way. “I’ll deal with you later,” she whispered.
“Can’t wait,” he said dully, pushing through a wooden door with a porthole window behind the bar.
“Here ya go, bud,” Kourtney said, setting the Coke in front of him and slipping a folded up one dollar bill to him beneath the bar. “Nicely done, squirt,” she whispered, kissing him on the head. Alex took the money without looking and casually deposited it into his jeans. Kourtney squinted at the drawing on the dark wooden bar. “What is that?”
“A hearse.”
Kourtney’s eyebrows dipped. “A hearse?”
Alex nodded, inflating the tires with a black Crayola marker.
“Why are you drawing a hearse?”
He shrugged. “Saw it on TV. Reminded me of dad,” he said bleakly.
She sighed and tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind an ear.
“I wish he was still alive,” Alex said, the marker going back and forth like a polygraph needle when someone is lying.
Kourtney forced a tight smile. “I know you do, honey. So do I .”
He stopped coloring to take a drink from the frosty Coke, his cheeks sucking inward as the clear straw turned dark brown. Just after he swallowed a large burp rattled his lips. “Can I be Michael Myers for Halloween this year?”
She frowned. “Michael Myers? How do you even know who that is?”
“I saw it on TV,” he grinned. “But I wanna be Michael Myers when he was little, in a clown costume with a bloody knife.”
She laughed and tousled his hair. “One thing’s for sure, kiddo, you’ve sure got your daddy’s blood runnin through ya ,” she said, wiping down some greasy menus.
Rob and Mick watched the boy begin coloring again, their mouths agape.
“Never turn your back on that kid,” Mick leaned in and whispered.
Rob snorted, watching Alex switch out the black marker for a red one. “I just hope they don’t let him have scissors in school.”
Mick snorted. “If your daddy was killed in a hunting accident you’d turn morbid, too.”
Kourtney looked their way. “What was that?”
Both men raised their eyebrows and shook their heads, quickly turning to the nineteen inch standard-definition TV behind the bar, where a Twins game was all knotted up in late innings. The TV was nearly as dusty as the walleye mounted above it.
Two heavy-set women waddled up and set four empty glasses on the bar with a startling clatter.
“Four more, ladies?” Kourtney asked, depositing the glasses into the sink.
“Please, sweetie,” the one with blonde hair and brown roots said. “Can barely keep up with these girls tonight!” She turned her gaze upon Mick and Rob and examined them from top to bottom, like a cocky detective. “These jokers behavin themselves?”
“Hardly,” Kourtney said, scooping ice into four clean rocks glasses.
The red headed friend laughed sharply. “If their eyes were laser beams, the backside of your britches would have more holes than a golf course.”
Kourtney laughed and grabbed a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Sound jealous, Michelle,” Rob grunted, staring at her in the mirror behind the bar.
Michelle laughed, making her red curls shake. “You’re damn right I am!” She glanced at Alex and leaned into Mick’s ear. “I wish you’d ride me half as much as you ride your damn bike.”
Mick
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