Not Everything Brainless is Dead by Joshua Price Page A

Malevolent. The hero then became absolutely hysterical. “We’re all going to die!”
    The hero pressed his back to the door, looked around the lobby, and soon found a desk in the corner. He darted over to it, slid underneath, and curled into a ball, protecting himself from the horrors of the outside world.
    “Oh come on, you coward. It can’t be that bad out there,” Dr. Malevolent scoffed before opening the door and peaking outside. “Hmm, we have our work cut out for us.”
    “That bad, eh?” Boris said, his Russian accent fading fast.
    She slammed the door shut. “That’s putting it mildly.”
    Boris reached forward, opened the door a couple of inches, stuck one eye outside, and then hastily shut it. He turned around and faced the rest of the group. “Oh yeah, this’ll be tricky.”
    Freight let out a frustrated sigh, pushed Boris and Dr. Malevolent aside, and then kicked the front door open. He took one look at the outside world and let forth a manly smile. If the police station were a birthday party, then the city must have been Mardi-Gras—Mardi-Gras on all kinds of elicit substances, after not sleeping for four days, and after having just bungee jumped from the empire state building in the dead of winter wearing nothing but a loin cloth. That’s what the city had become. Fires were abundant—cars, trashcans, buildings. Even dogs ran through the streets with their tails on fire as if there were some arson zombie wandering around that derived great enjoyment out of torturing these innocent animals. The destructive capabilities of a few ravenous zombies surprised the survivors to no end, but alas, the swarm of locusts that were the undead seemed to have moved on, exemplified by tumbleweed of human hair passing through the streets.
    “Okay,” Dr. M alevolent said, kneeling down and looking at the barricaded Captain Rescue. “Come save the world, you idiot.”
    That phrase was all he needed to kick himself into gear. The hero climbed out from under the desk and jumped to his feet. If there were worlds to save, kittens to rescue from burning buildings, beavers that needed help building their dam, or zombies that needed their faces smashed in, Captain Rescue was there. He marched to the door leading into this forsaken world and lunged forward. As expected, he tripped and fell flat on his face.
    Dr. Malevolent followed behind the superhero, using him as a carpet. “Doors really don’t like you very much, do they?”
    As the stepped out of the police station, one of Dr. Malevolent’s lackeys asked, “So, what’s the plan?” His appendages would soon be torn and eaten and he wanted to make the best of the little time he had left on this pale blue dot.
    “Hey, Stubbs,” Captain Rescue said to their shambling friend, “do you know where to go to fix this mess?”
    The zombie let out a hoarse laugh. “Don’t look at me. I’m only about 45 minutes old.”
    “We should go back to the bank and take a look around, maybe there’s a clue where to head to press this magical button,” Dr. Malevolent suggested.
    Boris looked at her. “This is all your fault, good goin’ boss.”
    She grew red with annoyance. “How could I have known this?! That the one bank in this God-forsaken city I chose to rob would be the one that some super evil corporation was housing its doomsday device, or that they would have left it so easily obtainable. It’s almost like they wanted there to be a zombie apocalypse.”
    Dr. Malevolent’s dream beyond all dreams was to single-handedly drive civilization into anarchy. Then, she would rise up and claim herself overlord of this new dominion. Recently, however, due primarily to lots and lots of zombies, her dream had evolved into something else. Now, she only hoped that after the zombies ate their fill, they’d leave enough of civilization intact for her to have something to conquer. Then she would worry about deeming herself overlord, and with any luck, her minions would not