Monster in the Closet

Chris was frozen in fear in the darkness. He was too terrified of making a noise that would attract the dead Chico. The argument continued outside the trailer; keeping Chico aroused for food and he kept clawing at the doors.

Outside, Jenkins and Mole were arguing. Mole shook his finger in Jenkins’ face while Jenkins stared at the ground like he was a pouting kid in time out.

“To hell with you and your comic book crew, Jenkins! The only reason I’m even here is because I feel sorry for you fools. This isn’t Resident Evil or Dawn of the Dead. This is real, man! I’m an IT Security Specialist and you want to dictate to me on how I should run the cameras and radios?! No, don’t think so. You’ll need me before I ever need you and without me, you wouldn’t have the surveillance and radio systems because instead of getting an education, you and your ilk stayed in your bedrooms eating junk food, playing your video games and ja…”

*scrrraaaaaatch…*

Jenkins and Mole looked at the trailer together. “Jenkins, what the hell was that?”

“Mole, you don’t think that’s a zeke in there, do you, because Chris is the only one in there. I told him we were sleeping in the command trailer tonight. Did you notify everyone in the field?”

“You didn’t tell me to. Chico’s the only one out. He was waiting for that horde to back to sleep.”

“I didn’t tell you? Its protocol to get status updates on everyone in the field, Mole!”

“Jenkins, I made it clear that were not my boss, or commander, when I came in with you dolts and you could’ve just as easily have called him yourself. Never mind, just kill that zeke so I can go to sleep. I’m tired of fighting with you.”

The commander retrieved the crossbow from his back and opened the door. Chico fell out of the trailer and onto Jenkins knocking them both to the ground. Chico immediately crunched into Jenkins’ upper right arm. Blood spewed a pulsating spray by Chico’s gray pockmarked face. Chris darted to his feet and ran to the opening. Mole stood there in confusion of not knowing what to do. Chris grabbed his gun off of the bed and aimed it at Chico.

Mole saw Chris aiming his sights, “NO, STOP! What are you doing, you’ll alert another horde, you fool!”

Mole ran to the other trailer, threw the door open and yelled, “Get up somebody, Chico’s a zeke and he bit Jenkins! The rest of the crew jumped up. Watchtower grabbed his machete and bolted outside. He sliced twice into Chico’s skull and once in the back of his neck. Brain matter and chunky brown coagulated blood oozed on to the coughing commander. Watchtower got on his knees and rolled Chico’s twitching body off of Jenkins.

Watchtower knew what was going to become of his commander, “Sir, this ain’t good.”

Jenkins was in shock and could barely speak, “Waa-atch, you kn-know I’m gonna tur-turn. Y-you gotta ki-kill me.”

Jenkins started crying and rolled over onto his stomach so Watchtower could kill him without looking into his eyes. Watchtower looked at the bloody sobbing commander, “Man, I can’t do it.” Watchtower looked over, “Mole, I know you hate him and would love to kill him.”

“Well, I didn’t hate him that much, but okay.”

Mole took the machete from Watchtower and hit Jenkins’ but the force wasn’t enough to pierce the commander’s head. Jenkins’ screamed in agony and grabbed his head.

“What are you doin’, man?! Kill him, but don’t torture him, Mole!” Chris yelled.

“I can’t help it if he’s thick-headed, Crip, I mean, Chris.”

Chris glared at Mole and snatched the machete from his hand, “I’ll do it, Hole, I mean, Mole.”  Chris swung the machete and cracked Jenkins’ head open and cut off three fingers from Jenkins’ left hand.

Everyone stood there shocked and sad of losing their team member and their leader. Their sadness quickly turned to disgust at Mole as he was smirking at Jenkins’ body. Mole clutched his hips and looked at the crew, “Okay then. I’ll be assuming command of this little outfit. You boys can start by tossing these meat sacks over the retainer wall.”

Watchtower gnashed his teeth and grabbed Mole by the throat, “Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s throw a meat sack over the retainer wall.”

Mole gripped his hands around Watchtower’s tried to pull the clutching hand from his neck but he was too weak, his raspy voice uttered, “Wh-at…the fuck…are you do-ing?!”

“Just following orders, Commander!” Watchtower pushed Mole over the wall. Mole’s cranium sounded like a lemon hitting the kitchen floor when it slammed into Almeda Road.

Watchtower turned around, “Now that the trash has been taken out, let’s give Chico and Commander proper burials.”