The sound reverberated and echoed down the nondescript main street. If any of THEM were unaware of his presence, his bellowing scream certainly alerted them. THEY shambled out of every smashed doorway, tripping over splintered wood and twisted steel. THEY dragged themselves through each shattered window, the wicked shards of bloodstained glass doing little to slow THEIR advance.
His giant club, the steel studs sunk deep into the hardwood…
…That was another thing altogether.
He swung it like a man possessed. Each swing crashed into the bodies and bones of the hungry undead shattering them like twigs. Heads exploded like rotted Halloween jack-o-lanterns. Again and again, he swung. Back and forth. The taut muscles of his arms barely strained under their unrelenting use. His terrifying grunts and snarls melded with the cacophony of animalistic moans, groans, and wails of the rotted undead masses.
The frightened women watched from the cramped interior of the wrecked car. They had found themselves walking down, what they thought was an empty street, just trying to survive one more day, when it all went south. A misplaced step and the bottle skittered across the asphalt. It was only a few at first, which the women quickly dispatched with well-worn blades. However, with each fallen foe three more took its place. They quickly found themselves outnumbered and surrounded. The trio used up what little ammunition they had but that did little more than announce their presence. Thinking quickly, they fought their way to the car, hoping that it was unlocked. It was. They piled in locking the doors knowing full well how little protection the Honda Civic would provide. The young women were completely honest with themselves knowing that the car had become a rusty blue steel coffin. With the horde growing ever larger they knew they stood no chance of survival. They didn’t scream, even the normally cowardly of the trio sat quietly, tears drawing down her pale cheeks. They sat in the penetrating silence of those who know their time has come and they have accepted the inevitability.
That three college freshmen with no survival training or preparation had survived as long as they had was a triumph in itself. They always knew death could be around the next corner. It wasn’t that they were helpless, they all had skills which they brought to the table. The leader of the group was the daughter of a police officer who demanded that she learn how to fire a pistol which she excelled at. One was a calculating planner. The other was the cautious voice of reason. All three were intelligent and always thinking outside the box to find nonconventional ways to solve problems.
Now they sat huddled in the late model Honda, watching as a lone man smashed and destroyed the creatures left and right. Time and again they watched as skeletal hands wrapped their broken and blackened nails around the man’s leopard print cloak only to be tossed aside like so much garbage. With each swing of his giant cudgel, more of the creatures found final death.
It felt like time was standing still but in only a matter of minutes, the big man took out the last walking monstrosity. With a final swing, he shouted, “CAPTAIN CAVEMAAAAAAAN!” with such wild ferocity that the women in the car shrank back in terror. The few undead whose heads had been spared the brunt of his club met death under the man’s imposing boot.
Blood splattered and gore covered he walked directly toward the car. The girls knew their time had come. There was nothing they could do against a thing that could wreak havoc against so many undead cannibals. It was only as he got closer that the women became truly scared.
He stopped a few feet away from the dusty abandoned vehicle. He could smell their fear it pained him. He did not like it when the innocent feared him. Looking into the eyes of the terrified women, twisted his stomach and made him forlorn. He gripped his club in his right hand letting it hang by his side. He looked into the car, placed his left hand over his chest, and plaintively spoke, “Me, Captain Caveman.” His meek voice did not match the brutal sounds which they had just heard emanate from the hulking brute standing outside looking in at them with sadness in his eyes.
Minutes passed and no one dared move. The women out of fear of the carnage covered man before them. The man out of fear of once again scaring the innocent away. He could still smell their fear. He gently repeated himself, “Me, Captain Caveman.” He waited. He realized that the women were far too terror-stricken to respond. Dejected, his head hung low, his shoulders slumped he turned and began to slowly walk away, dragging his heavy club across the gore-covered asphalt.
He had gone less than a block from the car when he heard her, “Wait.” Her voice still held a hint of fear. He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face the shaky voice. Down the road staring at him a mixture of fear and defiance on her face, stood a tall lean woman her dark skin standing in contrast to the two paler women cowering behind her. He stood motionless worried that he might make them run away like the rabbits did when he tried to pet them.
From behind the tall woman her brunette companion meekly whispered, “Wh-wha-what do we do now?”
Standing firm keeping her eyes on the imposing man in front of her, finger on the trigger of her empty sidearm, her voice low, “I’m not really sure. I didn’t think that far ahead. Any ideas?”
“I say we try to get away, move slowly, try not to startle him.” These words of wisdom from the blonde behind her.
“I don’t think he wants to hurt us.”
“Why?”
“Well, he didn’t. He could have. But he didn’t.”
“Maybe he just wanted us to get out of the car.”
“You really think that piece of crap is what stopped him? You saw what he did to those things.”
Even whispered at 25 yards he could hear every hushed word, the wind carried them to his highly sensitive ears. Hoping to ease their apprehension he took a small step forward. “Stop, right there!” Before his foot hit the ground the leader of the little group had reacted to his movement, centering her pistol on his large hairy chest. He could smell it was empty, the wind, being his friend, carried that to him as well. He also knew she was even more scared now. He placed his left hand in the air while he slowly put his big club on the ground beside him. He never took his gaze off the woman in front of him. His innocent eyes pleaded with her to be his friend. As he stood back up he placed his right hand on his chest, left hand still in the air plaintively, and in his quietest voice, “Me, Captain Caveman.” He then slowly moved his right hand out in the direction of the young women, palm up, “You?”
“What’s he doing?”
“I think he wants to know our names.”
“D-d-don’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because… Look at him.” He was a terrifying sight indeed. Standing well over 6’ 6”, with long dark hair and beard merging with his thick chest hair, all of it matted and stained with the blood and brain matter of the undead. His leopard print cloak was soiled with dirt and things more vile. Slowly he repeated himself, “Me, Captain Caveman. You?”
The woman lowered her useless gun, “I’m, Dee Dee.”
Through the mask of gore, the man’s face lit up, “D D.” His smile showed perfect gleaming teeth. He cocked his head to the side, like a dog confused by the words of its human, “You, D D. They?”
“Ladies, introduce yourselves.”
“But…”
“No buts. Just do it. He saved our lives we owe him that much.” The blonde came out from behind Dee Dee first, “I’m Taffy. Taffy Dare.” The brunette struggled to garner up the courage to stand tall, “My name is Brenda.”
His already big smile grew so large it nearly engulfed his face. “D D. Taffee. Brend-a. Me, Captain Caveman. We be, friends?”
