NIGHT OF THE IRISH ZOMBIES
By Tracy Atwood, copyright 2006

'I hate these quiet nights. I hate this little Mick town. Why did I ever shoot that cop in 'Orleans? If only I had believed him when he said he was fuzz, if only I had listened when the Chief told me to stay out of it, I wouldn't have to be in here. Exile is the worst punishment one can impose on himself, but I know if I go back to the states I am going up for manslaughter and I can't do that. So here I sit, Mo faux, detective extraordinaire, quietly passing the time, wishing I was dead.

'Nothing ever happens in this town'�'�

In the dark cinema, peeking out from the barely cracked door to the janitor's closet, Stinky McGee sat watching the film, preparing his cleaning solution, a special mix he created just for this job. His mind was not on his task tonight; rather it was paying complete attention to what was showing on the screen. Of all the low-budget smut showed in this cinema, this was his favorite. He visualized himself on the screen in place of the handsome male lead, getting sucked off by the midget woman with the big tits, saw himself picking her up and mounting her on his cock, carrying her around like a baby, bouncing her up and down until he was ready to explode, then setting her down and'�.

'OH SHIT!'� Stinky jumped up, looked out the door to make sure that no one heard him. Everyone was still fixed on the screen. 'Good,'� he sighed, wrinkling his nose at the smell coming off the bucket of chemicals, 'what the fuck, in ten years of doing this, I have never mixed the wrong shit.'� Carefully he crept out of the closet and headed, bucket in hand, out the rear entrance. Fortunately for him, there was a convenient place to dispose of the mixture just across the way.

Silently he crept down the road, watching for anyone who might witness his dirty deed, as he came to think of it; down the road to the homestead where the new American resident lives. He cautiously walked around the house, his final destination coming into view, the old potato field. This year they planted cabbage, some malarkey about 'crop rotation'� as he remembered it. He walked into the field and dumped his bucket, and scurried back to the movie house, arriving just in time to mix a proper solution and carry on with his nightly duties.

The sun arose over the town of Limerick, just as it always did. But today it brought with it a wonder of wonders. Most of the townspeople were gathered at the old homestead, muttering amongst their selves about the little miracle. Among the crowd were the constable, Chief O'Malley, and his deputies.

'Someone was definitely out here recently, Chief.'� The deputy speaking to him was a lanky man with flame red hair, his uniform fitting sloppily on his bony frame, his eyes bloodshot from drinking just a bit too much the night before.

'I can see that, you fucking Mick.'� Chief O'Malley was not happy to have to deal with this today. He was looking forward to a nice peaceful day, a perfect prelude to leaving for vacation tomorrow. 'What I want to know is what they did to produce THOSE!'� He pointed a chubby finger towards the field which now contained some of the largest heads of cabbage ever seen, especially in Limerick.

All the noise and commotion drifted through the old house and broke like an atom bomb in Mo Faux's ears. 'What the holy hell is going on out there?'� He got up out of bed and went to check on the source of the noise. 'Why is the entire town of Limerick in my yard? It looks like a fucking circus out there,'� he though as he dressed. Leaving out the back door, he quickly spotted O'Malley and turned towards the now beet-red Chief. 'Chief, what in the name of God is going on here?'�

'Take a look-see.'� O'Malley again points a chubby finger towards the field. 'Ever see anything like that?'�

'What?! Is this some kind of joke you and your people like to play on Americans or just a personal vendetta against me?'� Mo stared into the field and glared, thinking, 'This is just too fucking strange. Why would anyone want to play this kind of practical joke?'�

''Tis no joke, Mr. Faux. These cabbages developed like this overnight. Did you see or hear anything unusual last night?'�

'As a matter of fact I did. But unfortunately for you it wasn't here, I was down at the pub with the beanpole over there, and I won't begin to even try to describe what he was doing to that poor sheep.'�

'Look, Faux, I leave for vacation with my missus tomorrow. I tell you what I am going to do, since you seem to be such a hard ass. I know who you are, what you did and why you are here. So, the way I see it, you need me to keep my mouth shut. I am officially putting you in charge of the investigation. I am going on vacation and drinking enough while I am gone to forget all that I know about you. Unless you refuse, then I think a couple of phone calls to some interested parties might be in order.'� O'Malley snorted just a bit, put on his best smug look, and tried to look like he was serious enough to give a shit about a fucking American on the run in his little town the day before vacation.

'Fuck you O'Malley. I'll investigate your fucking cabbages. But I want complete control, none of the sneaky, sneaky watchdog crap from your buddy over there. I do it my way or you can make your phone calls. I will be out of here without a trace, and leave you not only looking like an ass to the American Embassy, but also playing cabbage dick. You hear me?'� Mo liked this game, down inside, and already his mind was waking up, gearing up to be a detective again'�

Mo went back into the house. There was always time to investigate when the crowd dispersed. Let the Chief have his moment. Making his way into the study, he opened the liquor cabinet and pulled the brief case from out of the false floor he had so carefully installed when he took possession of the house. Inside was the remnants of his old life, but the only thing was interested in was the .357. He pulled out the gun, the shells and returned the case to its hiding spot. Time for lunch, a drink, and a nap...

Mo awoke several hours later than he had expected. 'Shit! It is already dark outside, too late now to do any snoop work,'� he though as he washed up. 'I can at least put up my web cam to watch the field.'� After an hour of running cable for the cam and connecting it to his computer, Mo decided to head off to the pub.

When he entered the pub, he smelled an unfamiliar aroma. Underneath the scent of spilled beer, vomit, dirty bodies, and the barkeep was what he immediately identified as cabbage cooking. 'Fuck me on Sunday with a two by four, they couldn't have possibly'�'� He let the though trail off. It was not possible that anyone could have taken any of the mystery cabbage during the day, there was too much of a crowd, and he had been watching the field while he was setting up the cam. 'Hey McShay, pour me the usual,'� he shouted over the noise as he approached the bar. 'What's cooking?'�

'Cabbage and potato soup, goes great with vodka. One of the deputies brought it from home.'� McShay handed Mo his drink and wiped down the bar, seemingly in meditation.

'Fuck no, does he do this often?'� Faux was already forming the story in his head. One of the imbecile, small town cops who think that because they are the law, they can do what they please.

'Nope, tonight is a first. Said his old lady made it from a special family recipe.'�

'Thanks, I gotta go. Put this on my tab.'�

Mo practically ran out the door, turning quickly for the homestead. When he got there he bypassed the front stoop and ran around the back towards the field. Sure enough, in the dim light of the moon, he could see that two of the plants in the front row had been harvested. 'Let's hope that it doesn't kill them,'� he thought as he went inside to sleep.

The sun rose with a hesitation completely uncharacteristic of a heavenly body. With it, there also rose a banging which Mo initially mistook for his head. 'Shit. I know that I didn't have that much to drink.'� As his mind became more coherent, he realized that the banging was the front door. 'HOLD ON, DAMNIT! I'M COMING!'� Mo dressed quickly and opened the door to find one of the deputies looking haggard and frantic.

'Mr. Faux. There is a problem.'� Barely able to get the words out, Deputy MacCleary sputtered and tried to catch his breath. 'I really think you need to come see this, since the Chief put you in charge.'� Mo grabbed his jacket and shoulder holster into which he placed the .357 and fastened the catch.

'This had better be good.'�

They arrived at the town police station and MacCleary led Mo towards the holding cells. 'We found it this morning. I am pretty sure it used to work for us.'� There in the cell indicated, was the same lanky deputy Mo had seen the previous morning in the cabbage field. Only now he had absolutely no expression on his slack face. His eyes were dull and lifeless, yet he was pacing the cell like a cat. As they approached the cell, the former deputy growled and lunged towards them, teeth bared, only to collide with the cell bars. Again and again, it came at them, the wounds created from repeatedly bashing itself into the cell oozing nearly congealed blood, yet not dissuading the creature in the least.

'These things are everywhere. We have gotten around 20 calls this morning. By last count, we have reports of close to 100 former residents lurking around attacking people. So far there are 3 reported dead and about 15 hospitalized. I have taken the initiative to dispatch some of our people to try to contain the situation, but thus far it has been a useless endeavor.'� MacCleary was obviously uneasy around the creature and Mo suggested that they go into the Chief's office to discuss the matter.

'OK, MacCleary, I want to know everyone who was with the deputy last night. I want names, locations, and what the hell they were doing. I also want a map of every place there have been sightings.'� Mo was enjoying his newfound power.

'I'm on it. Mr. Faux, what happened to these people? What have they become?'�

'Zombies. Not to worry, I have experience in this sort of thing; this is not my first zombie jamboree.'� Mo had been up against zombies before, back in the states. It was that case that brought his name back into the limelight, and how they found him, why he had to flee to this place. He had picked Limerick because it was quiet, too quiet as he soon found out. Now this. Why now, and why him he wondered. 'I am going to call in someone to help. Don't worry, we will solve this and contain the threat.'� Mo picked up the phone on the Chief's desk and dialed.

'Hello?'� The voice on the line sounded like it was sleeping, stoned, or both.

'Shaggy. It's happening again. I need you. Get your shit, get to Cleveland, and get your ass here, NOW. I will call you in an hour with your flight information. Don't forget your passport.'�

'Where the fuck are you? You fucking disappear, after all the shit that went down, and now you call like we were old friends and tell me to get on a plane?'� Shaggy was already pulling on his clothes. He knew he was up for it. The last experience had left him battle scarred, but now was time for payback. 'Hold on.'� He pulled on his best pair of striped bellbottom pants, his cleanest t-shirt, having to struggle a bit to pull it over his shoulder width afro, and his platform shoes. 'OK. I am leaving in 20 minutes. Call my cell.'�

'Leave the weed at home, the last thing we need right now is you getting busted at customs for possession.'� Mo sighed. Shaggy was a good enough guy, but went into a spiral after their last encounter with the creatures. He only hoped that the kid was up for it. 'I'll call you shortly.'� He picked up the phone and called Delta, the only US airline reliably servicing Shannon Airport. When he had secured the reservation, taking care to bill it to the Chief's department, he called Shaggy and when he hung up, he went looking for something to drink. Like all good Irishmen, the Chief had a bottle in his desk. Mo didn't even bother with a glass.

He awoke several hours later, still at the Chief's desk, the station quiet and dark. Knowing what he had to do, he rose and headed towards the holding cells. As he approached the cell containing the creature, he unbuckled and drew his gun. Rounding the corner to the cell, the stench hit him full force, rotten flesh. He stared into the cell, at the thing the deputy had become. The creature had shredded its clothing to tatters and now stood almost naked. Self inflicted sores oozed pussy blood and already maggots were making home in the flesh. Looking at the grisly abomination before him, he saw that with nothing else to feed on, it had bitten off large chunks of its own body; in places he could see bone. He leveled his gun, still shaky from the whiskey; he steadied with both hands and took aim. The creature stood its ground, pressed against the bars, growling with what could be mistaken for hatred, one thing on its mind, fresh meat. 'Fuck you, I'm not dinner.'� Mo muttered as he pulled the trigger. The creature reeled from the shot to the head, but quickly came back to the bars howling tremendously. Mo fired two more shots and the creature fell, but still scrambled back to its feet and back to the bars trying to reach its tormentor. 'Holy Christ on a purple pogo stick, what the FUCK is going on here?!'� Mo withdrew and headed back up to what he was now beginning to consider his office to think.

Just as the sun was starting to rise, Mo was being hit by the full realization of his failed attempt to kill the monster. If they couldn't be destroyed in the contemporary fashion, like what they encountered back in Ohio, then they were in trouble. Fortunately, after reading the early reports that MacCleary had gathered, the mutation seemed to be non-spreading, just like before. That was a plus. He was still deep in though and well into a second bottle of whiskey, when there was a knock at the door.

'Mr. Faux?'� MacCleary opened the door slowly. 'I have the rest of the reports that you asked for. So far, five dead, 103 monsters in total, counting the one in the holding cell, and old man McGovern is complaining about them killing his livestock, not eating it, just killing it.'�

'Could you possibly have any better news for me?'� Mo was just a bit upset at being bombarded by all of this before the sun had even risen. 'I want a group of officers to try to round them up into one place. Where is there somewhere out of peoples way, and easy to contain that we can herd them to?'�

'Probably the theater. Only two exits, and is closed for the next 3 days.'�

'Good. Gather a team, and lure them there. Anyone gets bitten, I want them shot. If for no other reason than to keep them from suffering. Though, between us, I am still leery about the spread of this epidemic.'� Mo dismissed the deputy and gathered his things. It was time to pick up Shaggy at the airport. Time for the fun to begin.

Mo arrived at the airport and immediately spotted Shaggy at the baggage claim. The boy is hard to miss with that afro, much less the way he dresses. 'Shaggy Fucher.'� He pronounced it 'fucker' just because he knew that they kid hated it.

'Faux, you worthless POS, you know it is 'FOO SHAY'.'� Shaggy strode towards Mo with confidence, though his eyes betrayed the uncertain ease he was feeling about this new adventure. 'Moving up in the world, huh? Gone from straight up super dick to Irish dick in just a short time.'� Shaggy laughed and extended his hand to the detective.

Mo took Shaggy's hand and gave it a hearty shake. 'Get in, we have more problems that I first figured. I will tell you about it on the way back to the station.'� They climbed into the police cruiser Mo had borrowed for this errand and rode back to Limerick, Mo filling in the details as they drove.

'Say that one more time, I still don't believe it.'� Shaggy, his third cup of coffee in hand, shook his giant afro back and forth, a shocked look of disbelief still on his face.

'Shooting them has no effect this time. I don't care if you shoot them in the head, the chest, or the fucking ass. It has no effect.'� Mo was tired of rehashing the details for his stunned friend, and it was starting to show.

'Martha O'Leary's cow!'� MacCleary said as he walked into the office. 'Who the hell is this? The circus in town, or did we manage to time travel back to 1970?'�

'Deputy, Shaggy Fucher. Shaggy, this is deputy MacCleary. He is officially now underneath you in jurisdiction in this case because of your, uh, previous experience. MacCleary, you know the operation and I want you in charge of it, but if you have questions, or Shaggy knows a better way, then that is law second only to my word. Got it?'�

MacCleary nodded his understanding. 'I have the team lined up, but we are missing one crucial element, bait. I can not find anyone fool enough to be bait, and we know that the animals won't lure them anywhere.'�

'Then I guess your team IS the bait,'� Shaggy said with an evil looking grin on his face.

'But'�'�

'If you can't find volunteers, then Shaggy is right. You and your team is the bait. Shaggy, we need to figure out how to kill these fucking things.'�

'What about decapitation? Have you tried that yet? I brought your katana, as well as mine.'� Shaggy again grinned, this time it was the grin of a blood thirsty man, hell bent on some sort of revenge.

'We have a test subject here on the premises. Grab the swords, lets go.'� Shaggy grabbed up the ski bag he had brought and followed Mo toward the holding area. As they opened the door, the stench was so bad that they had to retreat and prepare themselves for the task in such closed quarters. 'I will go in, unlock the cell, and when it comes out, you take it out. Got it?'�

'Ready when you are.'� Shaggy readied his weapon thinking about how good it felt to be getting his revenge on these monsters after all this time. Mo opened the door and Shaggy's swing was clean and true. The monster's head fell from its body with a sickening splat and burst on the concrete like a rotten pumpkin. The creature's body, however, kept moving, as if it was trying to continue its search for fresh human meat. 'Holy shit! It is still going!'� He slashed again and again at the body, taking limbs and chunks of meat from the bones. Still the creature tried to pursue its food. Even after it was reduced to nothing but a torso and stray limbs scattered on the floor, the individual parts kept moving, trying to reach that single goal: MEAT.

'My God, what are we going to do? If we bury this shit, it will eventually dig itself out again, and keep doing so until it is just absolutely too decayed to go any further.'� Mo headed for the door, trying not to puke from the scene before him, the though of not being able to kill the creatures, and the smell. Shaggy wiped his blade and followed him back to the office. Once safely secure in the small room, Mo and Shaggy sat down to discuss their plan of attack. Mo opened the bottle, took a big pull from it, and passed it to Shaggy.

'You know that there is only one person who can help us. I know how bad it pains you to do so, but man you really have no choice.'� Shaggy took another healthy swig and passed the bottle back.

'You know I can't call her. Not after what happened back in Ohio. She will put a hex on me or something.'� Mo looked visibly shaken at the suggestion.

'Looks to me like you don't have any choice in the matter. There is something more than just a few zombies going on here, and she is the only one who will take you seriously, much less be able to help.'� Shaggy hung his head, he knew his friend was going to have a rough time with that call, and did not even want to be in the same country when it took place. But he would stand here beside his friend, it was the least he could do.

'I guess you are right. What time is it in Washington now?'�

'Too damn early to be calling her, you really have a death wish?'� Shaggy took the bottle once more and finished it off. 'In the mean time, we can go pick up a few more of these, I think we are going to need them.'� He waived the bottle in the air, and tossed it at the trash can. 'Let's go.'�

After a decent lunch, some more whiskey, and a major pep talk, the finally headed back to the office. MacCleary was waiting for them when they arrived. 'Mr Faux, I couldn't help but notice the mess of body crawling around the holding area. Does that mean that they can't be killed?'� He shuffled from foot to foot, nervously.

'We are going to find a way. In the mean time, you get your game plan together for getting those things into that theater.'� Mo entered the office and sat in the chair behind that desk. 'Shaggy, are you certain that there is not another way?'� He desperately wanted to not have to call her, especially not under the circumstances.

'Just do it, you fucking pansy. Shit, living here in Mickville has really made you a weenie.'� Shaggy laughed, took the chair on the other side of the room and opened one of the bottles they had bought on the way back.

Mo hit the speaker on the phone and laboriously dialed the number. 'Maybe she won't answer,'� he though as the connection was made and the line started to ring.

'Hello?'� The voice on the other end was just as wonderful to his ears as it always had been.

'Hello, Conejita. It's Mo. I am not calling to relive good times, I need your help.'� Mo buried his head in his hands, knowing full well that this was a mistake.

'Mo Faux, you son of a bitch. You have a lot of fucking nerve calling me after what you did, and even more nerve to call me and ask for MY help. I am tempted to hang up this phone right now.'� Conejita was still her old self and, as Mo expected, had not forgotten.

'Conejita, I never meant that shit I told the press. You know that. They took what I said and made it look like you were a complete fool. I promise.'� Mo was already wanting to drink some more, but resolved to make it through this call before he did.

'Oh, fuck you and your feeble excuses. What the hell do you want? The sooner I am done with you, the sooner I can change my number, AGAIN!'� Mo explained the situation to her, carefully and calmly, making sure that she understood their particular dilemma.

'Zombies again? How do you get yourself into this shit? Never mind, you said mutated cabbage, potatoes, and vodka huh? You have yourself the makings of a good ol' Leprechaun spell. The books say that it is believed that they would brew such a concoction to turn their enemies to their slaves, much the way that voodoo would supposedly do during its heyday. They also say something about some sort of reverse magic, a talisman or something, which is the only way to destroy the zombies entirely. I would say that there is but one person you can see about such Irish nonsense, and as luck would have it, he runs a bath house there in Limerick.'�

'Hell no, woman. I refuse to go and see Fionn, so called King of the Fairies. That old flame wouldn't know zombie making magic from a pussy. There has to be another way, some mystic quest or something.'� Mo really wanted that bottle now, but still held off out of sheer stupidity as far as he was concerned.

'Fionn has more knowledge than you think. He has been around, and is part leprechaun himself. He is your only hope at this point. I hope that you need a bath.'� Conejita hung up the phone, laughing so hard that it rang in his head for quite a few seconds after Mo pushed the speaker button to shut the phone off.

'FUCK! Shaggy, give me that bottle, I am going to need it before we go to see the King.'� Mo took the bottle and swallowed almost half of the whiskey before setting it back down. He hung his head, shaking it in utter disbelief.

Mo and Shaggy left in the Chief's cruiser and headed across town. Mo was strangely quiet for the ride. Just before they arrived at their destination, Shaggy spoke up. 'Hey man, what is so bad about this Fionn guy? So he's a leprechaun, big deal.'�

'That is not why he calls himself 'King of the Fairies'. It is not the fact that he is part leprechaun; it is simply because I hate talking to him. Fionn is the biggest swish faggot this side of the ocean, and he acts and talks like it. Its highly annoying.'� Mo pulled into the parking lot of a large, older building, parked the car and shut it off. 'Be prepared, Shaggy, the crack of dawn is not safe around Fionn.'�

The two men exited the car and went into the door marked 'Men's Club.'� At the front desk, they asked the attendant to see Fionn, stressing that it was official business for the police. The burly attendant picked up the phone and talked into if for a few seconds, then proceeded to have them follow him through the 'club.'�

The bath house carried the stench of sweaty men like an old overcoat. The attendant led them through the winding passages, past rooms where noises floated from, noises that Shaggy and Mo had no desire to hear, nor to imagine what acts of depravity might be causing them. 'Fionn's office, gentlemen.'� The attendant looked them both up and down in a way that made both men highly uncomfortable, and then walked away down another corridor. Mo knocked on the door and was greeted by the biggest lisp that either of them had ever heard come from a man.

'Enter, my sweets!'� Mo's headache intensified dramatically, as he opened the door and allowed Shaggy to enter first, and then closed the door behind them. The first thing that hit them was the sound of music which seemingly emanated from the walls themselves. The tune was familiar to Mo, but it was Shaggy who caught on first.

'Turn the 70's fag anthem off. It might be raining men out there, but in here we are going to have a discussion. No innuendo, no shit, and no men on men jokes. This is serious shit, and we are going to treat it that way.'� He nudged Mo towards one of the empty chairs on their side of the desk.

'Oh my! Aren't we fierce! Such forcefulness, but sweetie, you have got to do something with that hair. Oh my God is that just so yesterday and over done.'� Fionn offered a smug smile at Shaggy. Shaggy immediately leapt up and tried to make it over the desk, fist raised to hit Fionn.

'You mother fucker, I will put you down right now!'� Mo Grabbed Shaggy's shirt and pulled him back into his chair.

'Easy, we are here on business, not to rile the faggot.'� Mo turned to Fionn. 'You will have to forgive my friend here; he is sensitive about the hair. I am sure by now you are aware of the town's little ordeal?'�

'If you are referring to the zombies, yes I know. One of my best workers was turned after eating some of that silly cabbage you grew, and not one of the attendants here either.'�

'A zombie leprechaun! That's just too funny!'� Shaggy had regained his composure, but was now having problems keeping from breaking into hysterics over the idea of little men in tiny green coats, talking like a flaming homosexual as zombies.

Fionn looked sternly at Shaggy, which only made Shaggy laugh harder. Looking at Mo, he said, 'And I suppose that you come to me because you believe that I know how to destroy them.'�

'Actually, yes. I was told..'� Mo started quietly.

'I know who told you and why you were told. How do you think that she knew? At least she shows me the respect I deserve in my capacity.'� Fionn's lisp was starting to really grate on Mo's nerves, and Shaggy was of no use to him at the moment.

'Look, you flaming King of the Homos or whatever you call yourself these days, I have a problem that will begin to affect you quicker than you realize. You can help me, or I can have all those'�those things herded right here into your little slice of heaven and you can deal with them.'� Suddenly Mo felt like fighting again, Fionn had touched his last nerve.

'OK. OK. There will be no need for that kind of attitude. Take this elixir and coat your bullets, or whatever weapon you are using against them, it seems that you have a flair for the theatrics and swords if I recall, and it will counteract the contagion.'� Fionn extended the vial of viscous liquid towards Mo.

'What the hell is this? It looks like His Royal Flame's cum. You sure that this will work?'� Mo held the vial away from his body, a disgusted look on his face.

'No, but I could supply you some if you want it.'� The super pleased look on his face showed the true intentions of his remark.

'Let's get out of here, Shaggy. Thanks King. This had better work.'� Mo and Shaggy stood and left the office. Once they had navigated the labyrinth back to their car, Mo picked up the radio and called for MacCleary. 'MacCleary, skip the round up, we are going hunting. Get everyone on the force at the station by the time I get back. I don't care if they are on or off duty, get them there, NOW!'�

'Gentlemen, we are going hunting. I want all these'�.these THINGS killed and piled in the cabbage field. Once the bodies are all there, we are going to set fire to the field, the bodies, and be done with this whole fiasco. Any questions?'� Mo looked around the room with the fiercest gaze he could muster, hoping that it was actually a fierce gaze and not just a dumb, drunk look. 'Way too much whiskey today,'� he thought to himself as he waited for one of them to say something. When no one did, he turned to MacCleary, 'Divide the force into three groups, and give each group a section of town to cover. Shaggy and I will make our way in the spare utility truck towards the field and begin preparations for the burning.'�

'Yes sir!'� MacCleary immediately began barking group assignments and issuing last minute instructions, and giving each person enough of the 'elixir'� to dip each of their bullets into.

'Shaggy, grab the blades, the guns, and the whiskey out of the office. I will meet you at the truck.'� The pair went opposite directions to gather the needed equipment for their duty.

As they pulled into the homestead, it was Shaggy who first noticed. 'Holy hell! Look at that shit!'� Mo followed his gaze towards the back of the house where he saw what his friend was looking at. 'What the hell are they doing?'�

'They have set up perimeter. The fuckers are guarding the cabbages.'� Mo stopped the truck and put it into park. 'How many of them do you think that there are?'�

'I count eleven. Son of a bitch, we just don't need this today.'� Shaggy had already uncorked the first bottle and took a deep pull from it. After handing it to Mo, he got out and pulled the katanas from behind the seat. 'C'mon. They aren't going to kill themselves, and the force will start pulling in soon with the first load of bodies.'� Already they could hear shooting from town, the hunt was on.

Mo corked the bottle and exited the truck. He grabbed the duffel bag off of the seat and walked to the back of the truck where he let down the gate and emptied the contents into the bed. Shaggy came around and together, they wiped down the blades with some of the elixir, after which, Mo used what remained to dip his bullets into before loading his gun. When the process was complete, they took one more healthy drink, and proceeded to gather both their wits and their weapons. As they rounded the corner of the house, they pulled their blades and began the charge.

When they reached the first group of zombies, Mo and Shaggy split ranks and started hacking their way into the horde. 'Remove the heads if you can!'� Mo screamed back to his partner. 'We want to make sure that these fuckers aren't coming back!'� He spun just as the creature closest to him lunged, teeth barred for the bite. As the monster stumbled, Mo completed his turn and powered his blade cleanly through its neck; its head fell at Mo's feet, blank, dead eyes staring at him. The creature's body fell with a thud and lay motionless in the dirt. 'Stay!'� Mo instructed it as he jumped into the tangle of dead approaching him.

The two men hacked and slashed their way through the throng, decapitating the creatures in a ballet of carnage. With each zombie that fell, the ground became more and more slippery with gore and partially clotted blood. As the pair struggled to keep their footing, they finally removed the last head of the zombie guard. Falling at the edge of the field, they panted and clapped each other on the back, job well done.

'Let's get these bastards in the field. The others will be arriving soon with their kills.'� Mo sheathed his blade and began to lug the closest body into the cabbage patch. Shaggy grabbed the next and did likewise. Once all the bodies and heads were all placed in a pile, the men waited at the truck, already on their second bottle of whiskey.

Soon after, the other hunters started arriving with their kills. As they emptied the trucks of their loads, carefully decapitating each corpse as it went onto the pile, they began to wonder if this was truly the end. 'One hundred and three, sir,'� MacCleary reported. Covered in grime and blood, the deputy looked worse for the wear.

'Set the fire, let's be done with this nightmare.'� Mo signaled for the deputies holding the gas cans to do their job. They emptied their cans and tossed a match on the pile. Almost immediately the stench was unbearable for the group to be so close, not just the burning flesh, but the residual stink of rotten blood and meat.

'I want 3 deputies to monitor this blaze, the rest of you get out of here and clean up.'� Mo ordered. Turning to Shaggy, 'Just like old times, eh?'�

'Fuck you and your old times, man. I am really getting to hate this fucking job.'� He clapped Mo on the back and laughed like he hadn't laughed in a very long time'�

'And in other news, zombies attacked the town of Limerick this weekend, leaving as many as 7 dead and several injured. The menace was contained and eliminated by Mo Faux and Shaggy Fucher, pictured here, with the help of the local police force. Not much is known about what caused the menace, but official reports state that it was just the effect of solar radiation in conjunction with a local strain of influenza. Experts say that the chances of this happening are astronomical, and for the general populace not to worry.'� The news caster rambled on with video of the burnt out field in the background.

'Turn that shit off, wasn't it bad enough that we lived through it?'� Mo threw a pencil from the desk and made it stick in Shaggy's fro.

'Ya, I 'spose you are right'�OH NO.. Mo! You might want to look at this!'� Shaggy was now standing directly in front of the TV pointing and looking panicked. Mo approached cautiously, watching the video they were playing, and then he saw it too.

'Oh no, tell me that I didn't just see a guy take a cabbage from that field. I though that they had checked the whole thing to make sure it was all destroyed.'� Mo was obviously both nervous and angry.

'We both saw it. Here we go again'�'�

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...