EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Ginny leaned over the second floor railing and looked down at the contest below. The two men were staring at each other, the larger one a bit wobbly on his feet, Jeb standing so bravely with a long pole in his hands. She squinted into the darkness and recognized the flagpole, mostly because of the eagle topper. She wasn’t sure she wanted to watch what happened.

Since it affected her life, though, she found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t go and hide in the second or third floor stacks. She stood where she was, watching, and felt tears coming to her eyes. She didn’t deal well with stress like this.

The reading table that the two men were standing at had a few books on it. Mostly new releases with plastic-wrapped covers and a few left over from early morning visitors who had paid attention to the signs and not tried to reshelve the books themselves. Jeb reached a hand out and grabbed one of the books. He hefted its weight in his hand, then threw it at Bob’s head. The dead man wasn’t fast enough and the book caught him square in the face. The smacking sound was startling in the quiet library, but it didn’t look like it hurt him much. He gurgled.

Ginny started praying under her breath. “God, just help Jeb and me get out o’ this mess.” Jeb grabbed a second book, cocking his arm back farther this time, and let it go, twirling it sideways so it spun when he threw it. Again the dead man’s reflexes left him wanting. A sharp corner of the book caught him in the eye and Ginny could see the red blood come out on the book when it fell to the tabletop. It was a pity to see good books used in such a way, but it was better than being eaten any day. “Lord, let him make it through. He’s a good man.” The tears began to roll down her plump cheeks.

She sat down, looking through the bars of the railing. The light wasn’t at quite as great an angle here, but she could still see what was going on below her. Bob had apparently had enough of his maltreatment and started to edge aroound the table toward Jeb, who was trying to find a third book. He found a statuette of Mozart instead. He lifted the composer over his shoulder, almost cocked back like a baseball bat, and waited for the dead man to get closer.

Bob saw the statue, but didn’t seem to be able to work out what to do about it. He took another step around the table closer to Jeb, then a second. Jeb didn’t move away, just turned to follow the wobbly corpse’s progress around the table. Bob ran into a chair, almost tripping over it. He finally managed to kick it away, sending the lightweight chair skittering across the tile floor toward the front door. Jeb still didn’t move. Ginny heard him mutter something like “Just keep coming this way, you fucker,” but she wasn’t sure. And language like that wasn’t typical of Jeb. She continued to pray, now mostly in images in her mind than in any words she could make come out.

Bob’s steps were more cautious after the chair but he still advanced slowly on Jeb’s position. The old black man was proving his bravery today. Ginny was still amazed that he would try and take on something like this himself. She knew that if she had been alone with this monster, she probably would have just given up on the spot. Then it would have eat — no, better not to think about coulda beens.

Another two steps and Bob was well within the pole’s length of Jeb. Still, Jeb held his ground, not stepping back even when the dead man’s feet caught on each other and he almost fell face-first into the tile. He caught himself on all fours and looked up at Jeb. The growl floated up twelve feet and found Ginny’s ear. She whimpered unconciously.

When Bob was a couple of arm’s lengths from Jeb, Jeb cocked back the statue a bit further, then swung it around, connecting squarely with the dead man’s missing ear. A horrible crack rocketed up into the ceiling of the library and the dead man wailed. Jeb had been holding the statue by its head, and the square, flat base fell off and clattered on the tile floors. Ginny very clearly heard Jeb hiss “Fuck” this time. She’d let him have a few curses. Her prayers had grown more fervent with ever step Bob had taken and now they reached a new peak. Her eyes were streaming and she was kneading her hands together under her bosom without notice.

Regardless of the strength, or lack of, in the statue, Bob still reeled back from the blow and actually raised a hand to the side of his face. Blood was pouring from his head much faster now and Ginny thought she saw jagged bumps of white poking through the red and pink mess. Jeb threw the bust that was still in his hand at the dead man and it bounced off of his considerable waist. Bob stumbled back a couple of steps but didn’t go down. Jeb cursed again and finally took several steps back. Now he cocked back the flagpole, still moving away from the dead man.

When he was far enough away, Jeb let out a wordless yell and ran forward a few steps toward Bob. The flagpole swung around and rang off the side of Bob’s head, sending him spinning toward the ground. The centrifigal force spun Jeb around, too, but he stayed on his feet. Once he stopped spinning, he approached closer to the dead man and raised the pole over his head. It was slightly bent a foot or two from the end where it had connected with the dead man’s skull. Jeb slammed it down on Bob’s body lengthwise, and a spout of blood gurgled out of Bob’s mouth. The man lay as still as death on the floor. Ironic, popped into Ginny’s mind.

Jeb stood over Bob for a half minute or more. The dead man just lay there, like he should. It looked to Ginny like Jeb was thinking about checking for a pulse, he kept half-squatting. He finally must have decided not to. He turned and headed into the stacks.