Martin lay on the floor in the empty room, rubbing his jaw. Stanley started to make a sarcastic comment, but decided against it and hurried out into the hallway.
"Give it up, Brant!" he shouted. "There's no escape!"
Actually, Stanley figured there were plenty of escape routes, but he hoped to diminish Brant's morale. He rushed around the corner. No sign of the lying scumbag indirect-virgin-killer.
"Listen, Brant-" said Stanley, and then he hesitated. He wasn't sure if he'd get a better response by saying that he was going to tell the world about what was really going on, or that he wasn't going to tell the world.
Actually, he hadn't quite decided if he was going to tell or not. He couldn't very well let Brant go on having people killed, but the idea of melting away into nothingness was somewhat less than appealing.
"Listen, Brant, I'm not going to tell anybody!" Stanley shouted. "There has to be an alternative!"
He stopped and listened for Brant's reaction. He assumed that it wouldn't be "Goodness! Now that you mention it, I can keep you alive simply by spraying Windex on you every couple of days!" but there had to be some other way, right?
Brant was silent.
"Yo! Brant! We need to talk this out!"
Nothing.
Martin stepped into the hallway, still rubbing his jaw. "Did you catch him?"
"Does it look like I caught him?"
"See, you wonder why I said all those things and yet you-"
"Not the best time, Martin. I'm gonna try the main exit, you start checking rooms."
"Gotcha."
Stanley ran down the hallway. In theory, Brant couldn't have gotten out without his badge, so hopefully he'd realize that they all needed to have a nice long chat about the current situation. Stanley really hoped that he didn't have another melt-dart stashed away somewhere.
He reached the exit door. Still locked, and no sign of Brant.
It only took about five minutes to do a quick search of the bunker. Brant was nowhere to be found. Stanley and Martin returned to the lab (which, admittedly, didn't quite fit the dictionary definition of "lab," but he wasn't quite up to calling it the "slaughterhouse" yet) where Veronica stood next to the girl.
"There's no key to the chains," Veronica explained. "She doesn't seem to understand anything I'm saying. I pulled out the tubes but I'm not sure what else to do."
"There may not be anything else to do," said Stanley, sadly. "Brant's gone. We need to get a doctor in here to take care of her, as soon as possible."
"Dr. Arnzin?"
"No. He's not a real doctor. I mean, he yanked those bullets out of me, but he's not a real doctor. Call 911."
Veronica nodded and turned to leave, then hesitated. "You're sure? I mean, of course we need to do something about this, but you're sure, right?"
"I'm sure. Pretty sure. It would be wrong and evil not to be sure, right?"
"I don't know. To be honest, right now I'm very confused."
"I think we're all a little confused."
"I'm the most confused," said Martin.
"All right, here's what we'll do. Veronica, you stay here and watch over the girl. Martin, you call an ambulance. I'm going outside to see if I can catch up to Brant."
"You have a mob waiting for you," said Veronica. "I'll go after him."
"No, he could be dangerous. I'm not putting anybody else at risk. I'll be fine."
Veronica nodded and tossed him her badge.
"Not your best picture, is it?" asked Stanley.
"Go!"
Stanley hurried out of the lab and to the exit. He swiped Veronica's badge, opened the door, and climbed the ladder that led to the surface. He threw open the trapdoor and then very hesitantly peeked his head out, expecting Brant to perhaps try to run him over with a lawnmower or something.
Brant's car and Veronica's car were parked in the warehouse. Aside from that, it was empty.
Stanley climbed out all the way and did a quick peek in each vehicle to make sure Brant wasn't hiding there. Then he ran to the exit, swiped Veronica's badge, threw open the door and gasped.
The area around the warehouse was cordoned off with orange-and-white barriers, but there was a huge crowd right outside of them. A few of them pointed excitedly at Stanley. Those who were seated quickly got to their feet as the crowd as a whole roared to life.
There had to be at least two hundred people. None of them seemed to be carrying torches, pitchforks, or tar-and-feathering supplies, but Stanley still didn't feel that his personal safety was particularly secure.
"He is here!" somebody in the front shouted into a megaphone. "Everybody, remain calm! Do not let the sounds of our excitement drown out His words!"
Stanley couldn't believe it. It was that whacko who'd shot him! "Charlie…?"
"He remembers me! Our Savior recalls my name! Oh, I am truly blessed this day!"
"What's up with your speech patterns?"
"New speech for a new life! We await your words, Savior!"
Stanley cleared his throat. "Has anybody-?"
"We can't hear you!" shouted somebody near the back.
"Please, Savior, take my megaphone, so that it might amplify your words!" Charlie stepped past the barrier and handed the megaphone to Stanley.
"Is this better?" Stanley asked, his voice booming.
There was general murmur of assent from the crowd.
"Did anybody see a man come out of here? Older guy, gray hair, goatee? Walks like he has a rod up his butt?"
The crowd collectively shook its head.
"Okay, thanks." Stanley lowered the megaphone.
"Speak to us!" shouted Charlie.
"Don't shout. You're right next to me."
"I apologize, Savior! My enthusiasm for your return is-"
"Charlie, get the fuck back on the other side of the line."
"I will immediately, Savior!" Charlie hurried past the barrier.
"Listen, all of you, I really appreciate your support. Without my fans, I'm nothing. But things in my life are a little screwy these days, and I'm not completely sure what's going to happen to me, so I need to share some stuff with you."
"Yes! Share your wisdom!" Charlie shouted.
"Charlie? This is your last warning. I'll send your ass to the back. Anyway, the first thing I want to say is, don't use me as a role model. I suck. All of us celebrities suck. And try not to…" Stanley trailed off. "Have you been calling me Savior?"
"Yes, Savior!"
Stanley took a couple of moments to fully process that piece of information. "Okay, now that is creepy and messed up!"
"You are our only hope!"
"If you say I'm part of any ancient prophecies, I'm going to knock you out with this megaphone. Look, I encourage all of you to be religious, but don't be a whack-job about it. Don't worship defective glass or stains on building, don't say dumb shit about God creating hurricanes to wipe out homosexuals, and don't worship zombies. At least not this zombie. I'm not the scientific miracle you all believe I am."
"I knew it!" shouted a woman in the front row. "It's goddamn makeup!"
"No, no, I'm a zombie!" Stanley insisted. "But Project Second Chance is doing some horrible things. They're killing people. And now that I know about it, I can't let it keep happening."
"Project Second Chance is giving the greatest gift in the history of mankind," shouted Brant, emerging from around the corner of the warehouse. "All of you here today, you're the strongest supporters of Mr. Corpse, are you not?"
The crowd cheered.
"And you're the ones most worthy of our gift, right?"
The crowd cheered again.
"Don't listen to him!" Stanley said into the megaphone. "Project Second Chance is bad! All bad!"
"Stanley Dabernath was given the gift of eternal life," said Brant. "The chemicals that we synthesized will keep his flesh alive forever. But you, the truly loyal fans, should know this: what gives him eternal life can also give you eternal life. The formula in his veins will sustain you just as it sustains him."
"What exactly are you getting at?" asked Charlie.
"Do you want eternal life? All of you?"
The crowd shouted its approval of the idea of receiving eternal life.
"Then eat Mr. Corpse!"
Stanley dropped the megaphone. This had soooooooo much potential to be unpleasant.
The crowd stared at him.
"He's lying!" Stanley shouted. "That's not the truth at all! I was brought back by witchcraft!"
There was not a lot of time available for solemn reflection, but Stanley did take a split second to consider that perhaps the whole supernatural element was something that the crowd needed to be eased into.
"Eat him!" Brant repeated.
The crowd just stood there, looking collectively baffled.
"It's a lie!" Stanley insisted. "If you eat me you'll just be a cannibal! And that's shameful! Nobody likes cannibals!"
"Eternal life!" Brant shouted.
Charlie stepped forward. "Yes, eternal life!"
The crowd surged forth, mouths open.
Stanley turned back toward the structure and fled. He didn't have far to run, but Brant intercepted him and delivered yet another one of those manly punches. Brant grabbed Stanley by the shirt collar and shoved him toward the oncoming hungry crowd.
"Fuuuuuuuuck!" he shouted.
And then he was caught in a swarm of bodies. Fingernails dug into his arm. A set of teeth bit down upon his leg.
Though the crowd was making too much noise for this to be true, Stanley was sure he heard Brant's cold, cruel laughter.
Stanley screamed and kicked and flailed around, but he couldn't get away from all these people. Charlie bit down on his arm, hard, ripping off a thin strip of flesh. A young woman grabbed it from between his teeth and shoved it into her own mouth as Charlie wailed in protest.
He kicked, getting a little kid (shit, he's not even out of elementary school!) in the face. Stanley's shirt ripped in half and within seconds had vanished from his body. He felt at least four different sets of teeth on his arm, and somebody bit down on his thumb almost, but not quite, hard enough to sever it.
"Please!" he begged.
His thumb came off.
What was going to happen to him when there was no flesh left? Would he actually become the skeleton from the posters? Would he still be alive?
An elderly woman thrust her face toward his eyeball, as if preparing to suck the orb out of its socket. Stanley gave her a head-butt and heard something crack that didn't belong to him.
"What the hell are you people doing?" a woman screamed. She'd somehow gotten hold of the megaphone. "This is insane! Leave him alone!"
The crowd's hysteria was too intense. They continued ripping at Stanley's clothing and flesh. One particularly crazed-looking gentleman had a pocketknife and was trying to saw a chunk out of Stanley's belly.
The pain became overwhelming…and then Stanley felt at peace. This wasn't happening to him. This was happening to some other poor zombie bastard. He was doing just fine.
He looked at the psychopaths trying to eat him and decided that, no, this was happening to him, but he was detached from the proceedings.
This must be what it felt like to die.
Of course, the first time hadn't been like this, but go figure.
So many things he'd never be able to do…
…tell Martin just how much he truly valued his friendship…
…meet Veronica's lesbian girlfriend and envision the oh-so-naughty things they did to each other in the privacy of their bedroom…
…reconcile with his parents…
…punch Brant again…
…smell a daffodil at dawn on Easter morning (where the fuck had that come from?)…
…hear gunshots…
No, wait, he'd just heard gunshots.
He became very much re-attached to the current situation as he realized that somebody was shooting into the air. A cop. Cops ruled.
"Back off!" the cop shouted. "Everybody!"
Though nobody technically backed off, they did cease the cannibalism. Stanley scrambled away from them, trying not to look at all of the chunks missing from his body. He was shaking and absolutely terrified but knew that if he could just get back down into the bunker…
"No!" Charlie hollered. "Eternal life!"
He rushed toward Stanley. Another gunshot rang out and he pitched forward onto the ground, bleeding from the chest.
At least three women and one man screamed.
Stanley continued scooting backwards. His arm twisted at a weird angle and this time the crack definitely belonged to him.
Brant was still standing around. The sick bastard looked like he was enjoying this. He'd lost his mind.
The crowd began to move forward again.
Apparently gunshots weren't much of a deterrent when potential eternal life was available.
This may be the end of me, Stanley thought, but I'm going to make sure it's the end of Brant, too.
He jumped up (which really hurt) and ran (which hurt even more) toward Brant. He let out a screech that he hoped was intimidating but probably wasn't. The lack of intimidation value became clearly evident as Brant stepped forward to meet his attack.
The cop fired more gunshots into the air, but they had no effect.
Stanley knew that he'd need every last bit of strength to pull off what he intended to do, and though his strength was in limited reserves at the moment, he certainly had willpower. Having another arm would've been helpful along with the willpower, but he'd make do with what he had.
He grabbed Brant by the back of the head and slammed his face into the open part of his stomach. His arm cracked again, and a lovely piece of bone poked through the skin, but he held on for as long as he could. Which ended up only being another second and a half.
Brant stood up straight again and wiped off his wet mouth. "What the hell-?" He hadn't actually eaten anything, but nobody else had to know that.
The crowd tackled Stanley and brought him to the ground again. He hit arm-first and wished he hadn't.
"Listen to me!" he screamed as loud as he possibly could. "The chemicals…they transfer!" He pointed a crooked arm at Brant. "It's inside him! His body carries it now! Eat him!"
Brant's expression quickly switched from "What the hell is he talking about?" to "Oh shit!"
And then things really got out of hand.
Several people in the mob immediately turned on Brant. He tried to run but they took him down before he made it three steps. There were too many bodies involved for Stanley to see exactly what happened, but there was shrieking, spurts of blood, and disgusting smacking sounds.
Stanley actually felt a little sorry for him, even as the insane folks in the crowd bit at his own body.
One man tried unsuccessfully to push his way through to get at Stanley. Stanley saw the look of realization on his face as he decided that if Brant had the chemical from eating Stanley, so did everybody else who'd dined.
He bit into the neck of an obese woman. She cried to claw out his eyes but he got a nice big mouthful.
Two other people went after him.
And as the feast went into full swing, Stanley again detached himself from the proceedings and floated into a happy place where people rarely if ever tried to eat each other.