Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Six

Dumpster RabbittZ – Part Six

Serial Fiction

Bryan Higby and Ricky D. Snyder

 

 

 

Read Part One Here
 

Chapter Six

 

We didn’t know it then but a whole world of nightmares was about to be unleashed on our small town of CarLowDen.

When I opened my eyes lying on the cot in the police station holding cell, I noticed the streetlamps outside casting in through the barred window to my left. My head ached like the worst hangover in human history. I know about hangovers. So trust me, when John Friend says he’s had a few—more than a few—you believe him. I was a writer, or would be anyway. You know what they say about us writers, we never turn down a drink.

Trying to sit up was futile. The second I lifted my head a sharp bolt of pain shot into my brain. I felt the damp bloody bandage on my forehead. Well at least the local cops had the decency to bandage up their handy work. Even opening my eyes was a laboring task.

“What’s happening?” I asked to no one in particular. I heard the black janitor’s response.

“You in Hell boy,” Rob Wash whispered.

I opened my eyes and squinted toward the voice. I saw the janitor sitting on a cot in the adjoining cell. He was all the way up against the wall completely shadowed. Or, almost completely. I saw one random work boot dangling off the side of the cot. His cell was dark, mine too. The only source of light came from the hallway, and the street lamp outside the barred windows. Those street lamps cast the bars’ shadows across me as I lay on the cot in a kind of symbolic fashion that I wasn’t blind to even in my addled state.

“You awake? You okay man?”

“I think so. How long have I been out?”

“It’s eight-thirty…PM,” Rob said.

“Eight-thirty? Christ those cops really did a number on my head,” I said trying but failing a second time to sit up.

“You and me both.”

Rob grumbled. He slid off his cot and walked to our matching wall of bars. I winced as I forced myself to a sitting position. When I saw Rob’s face I winced again.

“Damn man they really did work you over something awful,” I told him.

“Wait ’til you get a mirror. You don’t look too hot yourself white boy,” Rob said but he was half smiling, that is smiling out of the side of his mouth that wasn’t swollen shut. The idea about the racist that Rob mentioned before resurfaced. Maybe there was an underlying racism in CarLowDen.

Blinking away my sleep I noticed that one eye, my left, was swollen shut. The room seemed to spin and spin. I hesitated for a moment. My head was in turmoil. Wow, I’d heard people talk about vertigo before, but this was ridiculous.

“Take your time man. We got plenty of it in here,” Rob said.

“Where’s Randy?” I said as my eyes popped open and I searched my cell and the surrounding cells.

“That mutherfucking DJ skipped out on us, man. He gone. Left us in the clink,” Rob said.

The bitterness was undeniable but I detected a tone of hurt and loss there too. After all, hadn’t the three of us faced down not just one group of mutant rabbit things together, but two.

“Shit! That ain’t right. Ran would never leave a man behind. I’ve known Randy Bliss for over ten years and he’s always had my back. Even with a fuck-up like me Randy is the man, man. You hear me. He wouldn’t just leave me behind.”

Now I was getting pissed. I was in physical pain but I wasn’t about to let some janitor I barely knew talk shit jive about my best bud. I’d kick his ass if I had to. I turned away from Rob and slid my forearms through bars leaning against the cold steel.

“No! If Randy is out there somewhere right now, he’s doing everything in his DJ’s celebrity power to spring us. Mark my words. If there is one thing I can say about my old buddy and pal DJ Randy Bliss, that is loyalty is in his very DNA. All we have to do is sit back and pray no one else meets the fangs of those demented furry wererabbits before we have a chance to stop this plague from spreading further,” I said, praying that I was correct.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile across town, my old buddy and pal Randy Bliss was holed up at his place on Ramsey Street. He was filling a huge suitcase with as many colorful sweaters and slacks that he could. His plan? To get the hell out of CarLowDen for a while, maybe long enough until the National Guard was called in to deal with this vermin-human hybrid infestation. He didn’t want to leave his friends in the lurch, but man he could only pay his own bail. It wasn’t like local radio DJ’s in a small town like CarLowDen was rolling in the dough. Besides Ran figured that they were safe locked up away from any killer bunnies.

DJ Lance Richland’s show Rattlehead Radio – The WHOA, was on the radio in the kitchen now. Who tuned that god damned hack in?

Randy sprinted into the kitchen and reached for the small transistor radio and flung it against the cheap plaster wall creating a severe dent in the wall. That dent struck him now. What he was about to do, leaving town without a word, would create a severe dent in his own life and the relationships he had created since his arrival in CarLowDen. Where would he go anyway? Randy had no family, at least none that he could reach out to now. This was a bad situation. Mutant rabid wererabbits? He wanted to reject all of this insane shit but he faced those things, twice. When he listened to Rob and John tell their tale the first-time around Randy thought maybe both had drunk too much, or knowing John he may have even smoked something that could have caused hallucinations. Randy remembered the pungent stink of marijuana in Rob Wash’s place too, but that wasn’t it. Those wererabbits existed. He had seen them with his own brown eyes. Randy was just a small-town DJ, but he wasn’t crazy. Rob was a small-town ghetto janitor, and John, well John Friend was a failed writer, but they weren’t crazy either.

They were not a group of heroes. This was not a Cannon action flick where the group of unlikely mercenary’s team up to take down the villains. Trained cops had been attacked by those rabbit things, transformed into mutant hybrids. They all saw this. Those boys in blue were trained with weapons and they got taken over. What could a bunch of ragtag losers like he and the others do against these breeding monsters?

Randy hesitated looking back at the mess of clothes scattered across his suitcase and the floor. He looked at his small place on Ramsey Street, the only real home that he had ever known. And that god damned Lance Richland was still talking on the transistor radio. The fucking thing hadn’t broken when he slammed it against the wall. ‘Karma baby,’ John might have said. That failure seemed to be the last straw. Randy almost broke down sobbing at how fucked up his life had become in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t Rob’s fault, or John’s. They were just working-class stiffs who happened to stumble across this horror. They were trying to face it head-on to stop the spread.

Randy closed his eyes. He was a fucking coward. Oh, flashy famous local DJ Randy Bliss plays the 80’s classics. What a con job. With his eyes closed Randy heard 1980’s film soundtracks race through his mind now. Flashes of those 80’s flicks erupted in his brain like some cheesy film montages. Those were the soundtracks of his life. They had saved him more times than Randy wanted to remember. Synthesizer themes by Tangerine Dreams, or John Carpenter, and wasn’t this like a bad Carpenter flick? Demented wererabbits running amok through a small town.

“More Joe Dante than John Carpenter,” he said, thinking of the film Gremlins, laughing at the insanity of it all, feeling the hot frustrated tears streak his cheeks.

Music and movies had saved his life. There was always a flick to be watched, an album to listen to. Like a warm bath that he could slide into. Audiences need not apply, Randy thought bitterly. But like all men, Randy Bliss needed his friendships, even if they were with a ghetto janitor and a failed writer.

Randy strode across the room to his sound system. He popped in the best of Tangerine Dreams into the tape deck. Cranking it up to ear splitting levels as he went about hatching a plan to get his buds out of jail and then they would finish this wererabbits hash for good.

 

* * *

 

While Rob Wash and John Friend were rotting away in holding cells in the CarLowDen Police Station and DJ Randy Bliss was having his 1980’s film and soundtrack revival, the infestation they feared had already begun.

The former animal control employees, Bernie Falchuk and Miles Schakowsky, who hated one another in their former lives, never stopped hating each another in their new ones as wererabbits. Moving along the CarLowDen alleys they fought viciously with one another until finally exiting the first alley behind the WWAY Radio Station when Bernie and Miles went their separate ways. They along with the four patrolmen, Brown, Ripley, and the other two uniforms, were lurking along the streets after sundown, looking to feast on human flesh. The old rusted dumpster that had released them into downtown CarLowDen sat in an alley behind Ralph’s Grease Spot now. Its lid was thrown back as more dumpster rabbit heads popped up from the opening, sniffing the cool March air. Strangely deformed rabbit snouts peeked out from the dumpster, smelling the air. One leapt out, followed by a second and third. Soon the entire alley was filling up with these strange small dumpster rabbits, like a clown car that couldn’t possibly hold that many creatures, the dumpster seemed to belch out countless demented wererabbits into the CarLowDen night.

On Main and Cascade, Miles saw a young couple exiting the local theater laughing and grab-assing. He grinned, starving. The couple never saw it coming. Miles had them snatched and on the ground in a second. His rabbit legs thumpered with excitement as he bit down on the female’s throat, tearing it open. The blood gushed across his bristly snout and fangs as he continued to bite and suck off her throat. The guy screamed and stumbled back. His death was not quick at the hands of former Officer Brown. Brown was a large man and he was wiry and fast as he swept past the guy, slitting his jugular with a long protruding tooth. Blood splashed across his partner Officer Ripley, who leapt on the guy and started to gobble him up.

As the dumpster rabbits flooded from the alley out onto Main Street and people saw them attack, blood and carnage reigned over the town streets.

Back at the CarLowDen Police Station Detective Moxley was twirling his thumbs trying to figure out what had happened to all his officers. None of them had reported back since Brown and Ripley entered the CarLowDen Clubhouse. Moxley had taken Officers Perez and Hamilton out to the clubhouse as well but they found nothing there except a lot of foul-smelling decay and rat shit. That asshole State Trooper Sergeant Mullinex had not returned his calls either. Perez and Hamilton were left at the clubhouse to stake the place out in hopes of finding either their missing officers or the animal control guys, Schakowsky and Falchuk. So far, no luck on any fronts. Those guys, Rob Wash and John Friend were still in lock up, arrested for firing off rounds at a local residence. An apartment above Marty’s Pub. Another busted window and more crazy talk of killer rabbits on the loose. What the hell was happening to this town? Well he’d let those two assholes stew in the clink overnight and see if they sobered up before he questioned them a second time.

He had downed his twelfth cup of coffee, the last three he added a nip of whiskey to. His bladder was working overtime and he thought it was about time to break for dinner at Ralph’s when dispatch buzzed.

“Detective Moxley, are you there?”

He pressed the talk button and almost snarled into the intercom. Kelly knew he was in his office.

“Yeah! What do you got?”

“Reports of…animal attacks on Main Street and Cascade Ave. Frantic reports are coming in now sir…lots and lots of reports,” Kelly sounded both frightened and excited.

“Animal attacks? Who called it in?”

“A private citizen saw the whole thing from her apartment on Main Street. Second floor of The Bateman sir.”

The Bateman? That’s where they had arrested Rob Wash for firing off his Glock the night before. Moxley had sworn testimony from John Friend that he had seen what he believed to be a rabid wererabbit. Crazy shit.

“Contact Perez and Hamilton and pull the surveillance off the golf course. Tell them to get over to Main and Cascade. I’m leaving now, and get someone competent from Animal Control over there as well. The last two idiots seemed to have fallen off the face of the Earth,” Moxley said, killing the line as he grabbed his jacket and exited the office.

 

* * *

 

Officer Maria Perez had just slid the condom on Officer Hamilton’s cock — with her teeth, when they got the call from dispatch.

“SHIT!” Hamilton shouted.

He was primed and ready to slam his partner six ways from Saturday. They had been wanting to screw something furious all day. Night had come and they were out here freezing their horny asses off all alone miles from anywhere.

Perez looked at the CB for a second and then at her partner. She grinned and lifted the mic off the clip as she straddled Hamilton, sliding him inside of her wet pussy. They both moaned as she pressed the talk button.

“Officer Hamilton here,” he could squeak out.

“Matt, Moxley wants you and Maria over to Main and Cascade pronto. There’s been another animal attack…multiple attacks reported,” he heard the scolding tone of the dispatcher Kelly’s voice as he opened his eyes and looked at the beautiful Maria Perez riding him like mad now. He was sure that Kelly’s comment on multiple had a double meaning in his and Perez’s case.

He wanted to speak but couldn’t. Christ, he felt like cumming but didn’t want to give up the ghost just yet. Perez was ruthless. She rode and rode him, in and out, in and out. Kelly’s voice came in and out of Hamilton’s consciousness. He found a naked nipple exposed beneath Perez’s open uniform shirt and cupped it with fingers and tongue. They were at the height of their ecstasy when something heavy slammed into the side of the cruiser. Both sets of eyes opened.

“What the fuck was that?” Hamilton said, looking left at a huge dented steel dumpster.

Looking beyond the dumpster, he could see from what was left of the CarLowDen Golf course lights as well as the glowing blue lights of The Blue Mansion beyond that, the dumpster must have dislodged from the spot next to that large real estate sign and rolled down hill. He glanced into the side mirror and could tell that the impact had dented in his side door.

“Shit, Moxley’s going to have our ass…”

“You mean your ass,” Perez laughed, sliding off Hamilton’s lap.

He looked at her like she was crazy. He hadn’t finished yet.

“You’re the one driving. You parked here,” she said, sliding back into her panties.

Hamilton looked at his softening prick with the loose-fitting condom now.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling the condom off his penis.

He rolled down the window to throw the rubber out when something bit him.

“Ouch! Fuck,” he said, pulling his hand back inside the cruiser.

“What happened?”

“Something bit me, I think,” Hamilton said.

He reached up and turned on the overhead cruiser lights. They both saw the deep bite and the blood.

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” Hamilton said.

“Keep it together. It’s just a bite, Matt,” Perez said.

She was already pulling out a First Aid kit from the cruiser’s glove compartment.

“Are you two love birds still there?” Kelly’s snide voice came across the CB again. Perez lifted the CB and said a few words in Spanish that were not exactly Catholic and then dropped the mic when she saw the first dumpster rabbit drop onto the cruiser’s hood.

Hamilton and Perez both jumped. Hamilton screamed like a little girl with ringlets. A second nightmarish twisted rabbit dropped onto the hood of the cruiser. Perez looked and saw that these things were crawling out of the dumpster that had just slammed into them. They watched as the rabbits glanced around as if trying to get their bearings and then those glowing pinkish red eyes caught onto the cops. The fangs that jutted from the front of the rabbit’s snout looked rabid and dangerous. Perez pulled her service revolver and lifted it toward the windshield. The things just glared at them with hate pulsating from those glowing eyes.

Without thinking, Perez fired off three rounds through the windshield. The rabbits leapt off the hood and raced off into the night.

“Maria? Matt?!” Kelly’s voiced startled them.

Hamilton realized that his penis was still hanging out and he quickly zipped it into his pants as he wiped the sweat off his lined forehead.

“What the hell were those things?”

“I’m not sure but I have no doubt they killed Ken Kennedy,” Perez said, snagging the CB mic. “Kelly, we just had 10-91L requesting backup out here at the CarLowDen Golf Course. A dumpster is involved.”

“10-91L, back up got it…a dumpster? Are you guys okay?”

“Matt’s been bit by one of those things. Send EMT’s. He’ll need a rabies shot — stat,” Perez said grinning at Hamilton. She knew how Matthew Hamilton hated needles.

Hamilton shivered, thinking about the long needles that he had seen stuck into the stomach of rabies vics.

“We’re in pursuit, out,” Perez said, cutting off the CB.

“Like hell we are. We’re here to watch and report if we see something. Moxley would have our ass if he knew that we had screwed in a police cruiser, while on duty. Not to mention that god damned dent in the side of car,” Hamilton said, glancing out the window at the dumpster that was still tight against his door.

“Okay Matt, you stick here wait for backup. I’ll keep in radio communication,” Perez said, opening the passenger door as she buttoned her top.

“Maria, seriously let’s wait. I’ve never seen nothing like those rabbits before. They didn’t even look like any local breeds,” Hamilton said, staring out the splintered front windshield. “I might be paying for the dented door but that new windshield is coming out of your ass.”

“Speaking of cumming,” Perez said, snatching Hamilton’s crotch and kissing him as she exited the cruiser before he could stop her.

“Maria!”

Officer Perez was outside of the cruiser holding her service revolver. She removed the three spent rounds and refilled the empty cylinders as she approached the dumpster around the front of the cruiser. That damned dumpster certainly did a number on the cruiser driver’s side door. Moxley was going to have their dumb asses for this.

As she approached the rusted dented dumpster, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. It looked old, maybe the first style ever created. Perez shined her flashlight across the dented steel structure. There were deep grooves scratched into the sides of the thing.

“Jesus, scratches into steel?” Perez whispered.

Those rabbit’s claws must be extremely sharp, and then she remembered looking at what was left of poor Ken Kennedy. That image of Kennedy half eaten and the thought of the glowing red eyes of the rabbits she just saw made Officer Perez’s blood run cold.

She was about to take her partner’s advice when the lid of the dumpster flew back and a couple of heads popped out of it. Long dangling ears and jagged fanged teeth with glowing eyes was all Perez saw as they leapt from the dumpster toward her. She fired off two controlled rounds. Striking and forcing back one of the rabbits. The other one was on her fast, trying desperately to clamp its jaws on her but she was quick, lifting her baton as the creature clamped down. While the rabbit wrestled with the baton Perez shot it twice in the skull. Brains exploded out the opposite side as the thing went limp. She had just time enough to process the fact that bullets did kill these things when more launched themselves out of the dumpster. Perez was quick too. She opened the back door of the cruiser and jumped in, slamming the door on the neck of one of those squirming, horrible things. Another round went into its brain. It went limp and she kicked the corpse out of the back-door, slamming and locking the cruiser.

“Matt get us the hell out of here! Matt!” Perez screamed as she dropped the spent round from her pistol and reloaded. The dumpster rabbits were attacking the cruiser now, smashing into it over and over.

Perez watched in terror as the things just streamed out of the dumpster. Hundreds of them. There was no way that CarLowDen’s police department and animal control could kill all of them. No way.

“Matt! Go!”

Perez looked from the demented twisted rabbits leaping from the dumpster to her partner in the front seat. Matt’s back was facing her and when he turned around, she saw that Matthew Hamilton had transformed into something more horrible looking than what was launching itself from the dumpster. The thing in the front seat looked almost like her former partner, but the face was twisted and changed. Like some kind of demonic rabbit-human hybrid. Hamilton had long jagged razor-sharp fangs and bristling whiskers. A red nose twitched as Hamilton opened his mouth and started biting at the cage that separated the front of the cruiser from the back. Perez screamed.

She watched as Hamilton’s beautiful blue eyes transformed into glowing red ones. There was a horrible determination in those eyes. He wanted to get through the cage and eat her alive. Perez knew this without a doubt in her mind. Hamilton beat his head against the cage splitting the flesh and throwing blood everywhere. He beat, and beat, and beat—biting savagely at the cage to get through. The rabbits outside had stopped exiting the dumpster and were now running about the rutty green lawns of the golf course. Many were running into the trees that lined the golf course. The important thing to Officer Perez was that the rabbits seemed to have lost interest in her and the cruiser. Unfortunately for Perez, her partner had been bitten. He had transformed into some sort of horrible mutant human rabbit thing. The worst part was that her best friend and partner, Mathew Hamilton, was trying to kill her.

“Perez? Hamilton? You guys…dressed, yet?” Dispatcher Kelly’s smug voice whispered across the CB.

Perez broke from her terror for a second and grabbed her shoulder radio.

“KELLY! KELLY SEND BACKUP NOW TO THE CARLOWDEN GOLF COURSE. OVERRUN WITH DUMPSTER RABBITS AND MATT’S CHANGED…HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!”

Perez’s throat was seizing up from absolute terror again.

The dispatcher was saying something but Officer Perez didn’t hear it because she was firing her service revolver empty into the face of her partner Matthew Hamilton. When the thundering shots from her service revolver disappeared and Perez only heard dead clicking of the empty shells, she saw the blood and brain matter of her former partner sprayed everywhere. His face and head were almost entirely gone from the bullets. Just the grinning deformed lower jaw remained like some sort of sick twisted cosmic joke.

Sometime later when the state troopers eventually arrived at the CarLowDen Golf Course and found Officer Maria Perez in a comatose state with her partner mutilated from gunfire in the front seat, there was no dumpster or dumpster rabbits present. They had most definitely progressed from a 10-91L to a 187…murder!

To be continued…

 

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About Bryan Higby

Bryan Higby is the writer that Amazon bestselling author Joe Konrath said: “Bryan is easily one of the most prolific and enthusiastic authors I’ve ever run into. He writes with unabashed exuberance. If you missed the link above, I encourage you to check out some of his stuff here.” http://thelatlateshow.com/ (Podcast Link)

And New York Times bestselling author of the Wool Science Fiction saga, Hugh Howey said: “Hey Bryan, congrats on your success thus far. Sounds like you’re doing it right. Took me years to get where you are right now, so you’re on a good pace. And these covers rock. Congrats on those.”

New York Literary critic Robert Plyler compared Higby’s first novel, The Diary of a Logos, to the works of James Joyce, Franz Kafka, and Mickey Spillane.

Bryan also writes, directs, and co-produces the podcast The Lat Late Show with his longtime collaborator Rick Snyder. You can check out this fictional podcast here:

http://thelatlateshow.com/
https://www.patreon.com/thelatlateshow
https://www.facebook.com/The-Lat-Late-Show-181261792388708/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel

Higby lives with his wife and three kids in Central New York.

Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Bryan-Higby/e/B00CWEFNVS

 

About Rick Snyder

Rick Snyder is the co-author of the critically acclaimed Gonzo Pulp Horror series The DenMark Chronicles. Snyder is also a filmmaker and musician. He is also the co-creator and producer with Higby for The Lat Late Show podcast and the DenMark Chronicles podcast. You can find their links here:

https://thefirsthour.bandcamp.com
http://thelatlateshow.com/

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