Part 5 (1/2)

He gripped it in two hands and raised it. The couple looked up at him then, but it was too late. The gleaming blade sliced through Benny's neck first, then while Lisa was busy screaming, it took her head off.

A messy business, to be sure, but Peter felt it was his duty to rid the world of those who contributed nothing to the well-being of the nation. People like Benny and Lisa Higgins were nothing to the economy. They cost this Great Nation a fortune in welfare. These people went through life taking what they could and offering nothing in return. Maybe the Government felt it had to support them, but Peter Wilkes didn't believe in charity. He believed in ridding the nation of excess garbage, and in the process, he lined his pockets with extra cash.

All those tiny tax returns added up when he put them together, and he had a nice little scam worked out that allowed him to collect the returns without implicating himself. He'd have homeless b.u.ms cash the checks with a fake ID, then he'd dispose of the b.u.ms and collect the money. It was what was meant by the phrase killing two birds with one stone.

Peter set about cleaning his office. This was the part he hated most about his mission. He'd hire someone to do the job, but it would be difficult to explain all the blood and body parts. He could hear his conversation with a prospective employee; Your duties will include wiping up the b.l.o.o.d.y messes I leave behind when I sever the heads of my clients. The pay isn't all that good, but oh, the benefits.

There were three more appointments the following night. One of them was a waitress living on a salary of around ten thousand dollars a year, including her meager tips. She seemed such a sweet thing, all bubbly and talkative. Peter didn't understand it. Her life was in the toilet. How could she smile like she did? She should have been miserable.

He left her sitting and smoked a cigarette before he returned with the axe. He almost regretted having to do away with her, as trusting as she was, but business was business. One fell swoop and her head rolled across the floor, bounced against the wall, and changed course. Peter watched until it came to a stop beside the water cooler. The eyes were still open, and Peter swore she still had that stupid grin on her face.

He disposed of her body, along with the day's other victims, and called it a night. On the way home, he stopped off at his favorite pub. He drank two whiskey sours, smoked a couple of cigarettes (he swore he was giving the d.a.m.n things up one of these days), and pa.s.sed out a few business cards to what he felt were likely candidates for his special tax cuts.

It was the end of February. He didn't need to drum up business, since this was the time when poor people were starting to clamor to get their returns in. They couldn't wait to take back what little they'd contributed. They couldn't wait to file those returns and get those checks back in their hot little hands so they could blow the money on some frivolous nonsense.

The Nation would be greater without them. They were leeches, sucking the blood from the country. These people simply had to be eradicated.

The government needed a few tax cuts of its own, and until they stopped pandering to the bugs of society, they would never have them. Not without the help of Peter, who considered himself an expert exterminator.

He finished his last drink and left the pub.

Peter was at the office early the next morning. He had a full day ahead of him. He made coffee, sharpened his axe, and unlocked the front door in time to greet his first appointment, a refrigerator of a guy named Ed.

”Hey, there, Mister Wilkes,” Ed said, sticking out his beefy hand.

Peter shook his hand.

”Coffee?” Peter asked.

”Don't mind if I do,” Ed said.

Of course he didn't. Like the others, Ed would take anything free.

Peter poured two cups of coffee and seated Ed at the desk. He sipped his own coffee as he turned on the computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he made friendly small talk.

”You have a family, Ed?”

”Sure do. Five kids, a wife. . . .”

”What do you do for a living, Ed?”

”Work construction. Been doing it all my life.”

”Make good money, do you?”

”Not too bad,” Ed said. ”Work my a.s.s off for it, though, and it takes every dime I got to take care of the family, if you know what I mean.”

Peter nodded.

”I look forward to that refund every year,” Ed said. ”Like to put it toward a little vacation for me and the family. 'Bout the only way I can afford it, be honest with ya.”

Peter punched a couple of keys on the keyboard, then reached for the folder Ed had brought with him. He thumbed through some papers. ”I see you have several deductions,” he said.

”As many as I could get,” Ed said with pride. ”I love those deductions.”

”I'm sure you do,” Peter said dryly.

He prepared Ed's tax return, making polite conversation, and when he finished, he slid the papers across the desk for Ed to sign.

”I'll be right back,” he said.

He returned with his axe. Ed was hunched over the table, looking at something on Peter's desk. He turned just as Peter brought the axe down in a sweeping arc. The blade stopped just short of making the trip through Ed's thick neck. Peter cursed and jerked it back. It made a wet sucking noise as it came away, leaving Ed's head drooping to one side, still hanging on by b.l.o.o.d.y strings of muscle.

Peter swung again, this time lopping the head completely off. He set the axe aside and lit a cigarette, running his b.l.o.o.d.y fingers through his hair. Ed's head lay on the floor at his feet, staring up at him, the eyes open in a state of permanent confusion.

Peter finished his cigarette, then set about cleaning up the gore. When he finished, he took a shower and dressed for his next appointment. He was nearly ready when he heard gla.s.s breaking in the front office.

”Who's there?” he called.

He expected no answer. It was unlikely an intruder would be so kind as to supply an introduction.

Peter's eyes fell on his axe, which leaned against the wall while awaiting its next bit of business. He shot a glance toward the door leading to the front office, where he could now hear shuffling, indicating there was indeed someone out there after all.

He took hold of the axe and moved toward the front office. There were more sounds coming from the other side of the door separating him from the main officea”things being b.u.mped into, papers being rifled. He turned the k.n.o.b slowly, so as not to attract attention, and pushed the door open. Someone moved past his field of vision right outside the door. Probably a G.o.dd.a.m.n juvenile delinquent hoping to find extra cash lying around.

Peter pushed into the outer office, hoping to surprise his visitors. He brought his axe back, freezing in mid-swing, his mouth agape as he stared at a woman whose flesh glistened red where her head used to be.

Something moved to his left. He turned sharply, in time to see Ed ambling toward him, carrying his head under one arm. Behind Ed, the dumb couple, Benny and his wife, what was her name?

There was another sound behind hima”the waitress with the stupid grin that was no longer there was b.u.mping into the water cooler. She was holding her head in one hand, fingers tangled in the b.l.o.o.d.y blonde hair.

More came through the front door. He recognized some, but mostly they were victims he'd not thought of since disposing of them. They were the poor, the homeless, the down and out, the dregs of society. They began to close in on him.

Peter hoped he was dreaming. He'd fallen asleep, that's all. This wasn't Night of the Living Dead, and besides, zombies didn't live with their heads off. Wasn't that the way it worked? He wasn't a big movie buff, but he knew that much. Anybody with half a brain knew that much.

He swung the axe anyway, even if he was dreaming. The blade buried in an arm here, a leg therea”he even lopped off one of the waitress' b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she kept coming. They all kept coming. They circled him until he could no longer swing his axe. Finally, they converged on him completely, groping, tearing at his clothes and then his flesh. They held their decapitated heads to him and the heads began to feast on what the dead things dragged from Peter's writhing body.

He had one last thought before he died. It was a ridiculous thought, but true nonethelessa”these worthless creatures wanted their refund checks.

There Goes the Neighborhood.

Jonesville was a quiet little town with a population of five hundred, not counting the dead that started climbing out of the lake one rainy night in May of 2005. Like most small-town folk, the people of Jonesville were used to their own way of living. They clung to it adamantly, even when the walking dead began to ruin the tranquil rural landscape with their rotting presence.

Truth be told, those that came out of the lake had more right to be there than any of the current residents of Jonesville, but n.o.body wanted to talk about that. Some things were better left unsaid, you see, and the people of Jonesville knew which things fit neatly into that category.