Rafi threw himself behind the car and squatted down behind the trunk. He adjusted his grip on the baseball bat he stole from the bouncer. Breathing heavily, he squinted his eyes then opened them wide. Over and over. One of his pupils had blown out.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, it’s the drugs, it’s the drugs, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s the drugs, it’s not real!”
He threw a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t been thinking, he’d been speaking. Practically yelling, really. But that was okay, right? Yeah, right, right, it has to be the drugs, this isn’t real. I’m going to look over this car and everything is going to be fine.
Slowly, only hitting his knees and elbow three times, Rafi turned around. He lifted himself until his eyes and nose were just over the trunk of the car.
The street was mayhem. People were running. Screaming. Running and screaming. Or worse, running and not. A screaming woman in a slim red dress was trying to run on pointy heels. Another woman in chunky heels tackled her like a pro and tore into her neck. She was already covered in blood. Two men were running across the street a block down. A truck came careening around the corner. It slammed into the one lagging, knocking him back to the sidewalk. The truck didn’t stop. The other man didn’t stop either. There were fires. Garbage cans. A parked meter maid cart. A fire hydrant. The air was filled with smoke and screams.
“It’s the drugs,” Rafi muttered. “It’s just the drugs. It’s a bad trip.”
Behind him came a fresh sound. Heavy footsteps, aimed at him. Rafi turned and screamed. It was the coat check girl from the club. Her shirt was ripped in the middle. Her short black hair was standing in different directions. Blood caked her mouth and dripped off her chin. As she ran at him her arms were out, fingers curled into the claws. She squawked at him, sounding like a pterodactyl.
In a single motion Rafi stood up and swung the bat to the sky. It caught the coat check girl under the chin. With an audible crunch her head went back at an unlivable angle. Dead eyes stared at the sky as she fell into a heap on the sidewalk.
Rafi panted, the bat behind him and ready again. He glanced around. People were screaming around the corner. Somewhere behind him a car crashed. No one was on this end of the block though. He looked down at the broken woman and peed himself a little.
“Please don’t be the drugs, please don’t be the drugs.”
It couldn’t be the drugs, right? Right? Fuck, it was just molly, for chrissakes. He’d never had hallucinations before. Well, there was that one time with that cat that was actually an opossum, but that was years ago. And there was a big difference between seeing an opossum as a cat and thinking the club had been overrun with motherfucking zombies.
He took a step forward and kicked the woman. Yep. Definitely dead. Her head was bent back at a ninety degree angle and there was blood. He kept staring at her, bat still behind him. He was becoming more sure the blood was in his head. Everything, all of this was in his head. He just killed an innocent coat check girl, probably running at him because he forgot his coat.
From around the corner he heard screaming and snarling. He looked up in time to see his dealer Mozzie run around the corner. Close behind were three others. All dead behind the eyes. All bloody. All reaching for Mozzie with fingers turned to claws.
“FUCK YES,” Rafi screamed, pumping the bat in the air.
The zombies fell on Mozzie a few feet away.
“Oh, yeah. Oh, fuck.”