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November 2008

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Our print division, Comet Press, is currently accepting submissions for horror, suspense, and dark crime novels and novellas. Visit www.cometpress.us for details.

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DEADLINES: AN ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR AND DARK FICTION, will be released in November of 2008! Visit www.cometpress.us

Wilma's Passion
by Michael A. Kechula

“Step right up ladies and gentlemen,” yelled the carnival barker, “and see Herbie, the friendliest zombie in the world. He sings, he dances, he tells jokes. See the greatest show on Earth for just one dollar. Step right up and see Herbie, the only zombie who ever performed for the Queen of England. Show starts in fifteen minutes. Hurry, hurry."

“Is this show OK for kids?” somebody asked.

“Sure thing, Mister. Herbie loves kids. He lets them climb on his back so he can give them horsey rides."

The barker didn’t have to convince Wilma. She couldn’t wait to see the zombie after reading about him in the newspaper. The part that really caught her eye described Herbie as tall, dark, and exceptionally handsome.

Hurrying inside the show tent, she noticed one end of the stage was blocked from view by black curtains. She figured the handsome zombie was probably behind them preparing for his performance. The idea of being just feet away from a famous celebrity gave her butterflies.

On the other end of the stage, a man sat in front of a machine loaded with dials, switches, and flickering lights. Wilma thought it looked like something from a mad scientist’s laboratory.

When the audience was seated, the barker appeared onstage and blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to our show. What you are about to see will thrill you, amaze you. But before we begin, I have a few important announcements. First of all, that bouncy accordion music you heard when you came into the tent comes from Herbie’s latest CD album, Herbie Plays Polka Greats. It’ll be on sale at in the back of the tent right after the show, along with a terrific selection of Herbie T-shirts, and photos. Herbie will personally autograph every photo you buy. One more thing—local fire regulations require me to mention emergency exits. If you turn and look toward the back of the tent, you’ll see bright yellow signs right above every exit."

“Is that where we’re supposta run in case the zombie goes nuts and attacks us?” yelled a drunk.

Nervous giggles rose from the audience, as two carnival bruisers pulled the drunk from his seat and dragged him toward an exit.

The barker blew his whistle twice to draw attention back to the stage. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, Zangara’s Traveling Shows is proud to present Herbie, the friendliest zombie in the world!”

Everyone applauded, as the lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated the curtains. The barker opened them to reveal a zombie in a yellow jump suit sitting in a steel chair. Steel cuffs bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. Wide chains pressed against his chest. His bald head was bowed, as if he were in utter despair.

Sounds of dismay filled the tent. Some booed. Several people whisked children toward exits.

“What did you do to Herbie?” somebody asked.

“There’s nothing to worry about. He’s very comfortable,” the barker replied.

“Aren’t those chains hurting him?” asked Wilma.

“No. Zombies don’t feel pain. Nobody feels pain when they’re dead. And Herbie’s dead as a doornail. That’s why we tie him down—so his lifeless body won’t fall outta the chair."

“How did Herbie get to be a zombie?” asked a little girl.

“He useta live in Haiti. One day He got sick and died. After they buried him, a witch doctor dug him up and made him a zombie. Somehow, Herbie wandered into the jungle and got lost. Dr. Dumont of the Haitian Zombie Institute found him. Dumont had invented a machine that could bring Herbie back to life, but for only six hours a day. The doctor taught Herbie how to sing, dance, tell jokes, do magic tricks, and play ten musical instruments. Herbie was so happy to be alive for six hours every day, he became very friendly. Dumont was trying to find a way to bring Herbie back to life forever, but he died before he could make that happen. I’ll take one more question, and then we’ll get on with the show."

“I don’t get it,” somebody said. “Did Dr. Dumont bring Herbie back to life in a way that you and I have life? Or does he have a different kinda life?"

“I don’t know. What does it matter, if he’s friendly and can put on a terrific show? OK, in a few moments, we’ll bring Herbie back to life for six hours just like Dr. Dumont did by using a Renticular Renificator. It’s the special machine the doctor invented to animate zombies. So let’s get started. First, I’ll put this headset on Herbie. Then I’ll ask James, who’s sitting in front of the machine, to send an electrical signal through the headset. When James does that, Herbie will come to life and do the show."

The barker put the headset on the zombie’s bowed head and said, “James, set renticular renification to zero point three, and press start."

James twisted some dials and pressed a button. Suddenly, the zombie’s head jerked upward, his eyes popped open, and his face broke out into a brilliant smile. “Hi everybody,” he said in a rich, bubbly voice. “I’m Herbie, the friendliest zombie in the world. Welcome to my show."

The cheers and applause were deafening.

“I’m a real zombie, and I can do lots of things. I can play the Beer Barrel Polka on my accordion. I can do a dance, or sing Jingle Bells, or hundreds of other songs. I can whistle Broadway show tunes. I can ride a motorcycle while standing on the seat upside down. And lots of other things. What should I do first?”

The crowd shouted a hundred different requests.

“Since this is the first show today, let’s make it Herbie’s choice,” the barker said.

“That’ll be nice,” said the zombie.

“Well, Herbie, what do you feel like doing?"

“I’m in the mood for ballet. James, would you please play that CD I love so much—the one with the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies?"

“Sure thing,” James said, inserting a CD and pressing a green button on the Renticular Renificator to release the zombie’s restraints.

Herbie sprang from the chair and donned a pair of hot-pink ballet slippers. “How do you like my slippers, boys and girls?” he asked, standing on his toes.

The kids screamed with delight.

The zombie ran behind the black curtains, removed his jump suit, and slid into a hot-pink leotard.

While Herbie twirled and danced on his toes, Wilma felt a flutter unlike anything she’d ever experienced. As he pranced across the stage, she noticed his pouty, fleshy lips, his muscular arms and thighs, his tight glutes. She found herself staring at the bulging mass below his stomach and how it strained against his tights. Fanaticizing about holding him close, she could almost feel the bulge pressing against her. In all her forty years, Wilma had never felt so wicked.

“That’s very nice, Herbie,” said the barker. “How about showing us how Elvis Presley used to move his pelvis."

James played raunchy music, and pressed more buttons on the renificator. Herbie went into a frenzy of gyrations that brought squeals from his female admirers. Mesmerized by his frantic acrobatics, Wilma found herself gasping for breath and lightheaded. When sweat broke out on her forehead, she realized Herbie was the man for her.

After the spectacular show, Wilma raced to the back of the tent so she could buy a souvenir photo personally autographed by Herbie. Dozens of women had the same idea.

Giggles and flushed faces abounded when Herbie came to the table wearing the yellow jump suit. Wilma thought he looked like a dashing, fairytale prince. She couldn’t wait until it was her turn to buy his photograph.

“Ten dollars, please,” Herbie said with a charming Caribbean accent, when Wilma pointed to one of his pictures.

“Would you autograph it please?"

“That’ll be five dollars extra,” he said, flashing a gorgeous smile. Wilma’s insides turned to putty.

When she gave the zombie the money, his fingertips brushed her hand. Though they were ice cold, Wilma was too overwhelmed to notice.

“What would you like me to write on the picture?” Herbie asked.

“Whatever you wish. But please sign it, ‘With Love, Herbie.’”

“Give me your first name, Dear."

“Wilma."

The zombie scribbled across the top, “To Wilma. You’re a real sweetie. With Love, Herbie.” He gave her the picture and shook her hand.

She thought she’d faint when he squeezed her hand briefly and said, “Thanks for coming to the show, Sweetie."

She was about to tell him how handsome he was, but he’d already turned his attention to the next woman in line. When he made flirtatious comments to the woman, Wilma felt a jealous flash. She reminded herself that he was just conducting business. All handsome celebrities flirted with fans. It was part of the fame game. It meant nothing. How could it, after the way he squeezed her hand and called her Sweetie with such intensity?

Wilma went to the rest of Herbie’s shows that night. Sitting in the front row, she waved every time he turned her way. Herbie was so involved in his performance, he waved back only once,

Herbie did something different in every show, which increased Wilma’s fascination. But she was alarmed during the last show when he sang, I Gotta Be Me. His voice was weakening. Checking her watch, she realized five hours and fifty minutes had passed. It was almost time for Herbie to die again.

Right before Herbie’s time ran out, he sat in his steel chair and waved goodbye to the audience. When his head abruptly dropped to his chest, the barker closed the black curtains, James threw a switch to activate the chair’s restraints, then turned off the renificator.

Wilma ran from the tent weeping.

On the way to her car, a deep inner voice reminded her that Herbie wasn’t gone forever. They’d revive him again tomorrow, and she’d see him again.

She decided to attend every show while the carnival was in town. She’d buy mementos after every show. That’d give her three opportunities every night to shake his muscular hand, look into his passionate eyes, hear his glorious voice. Soon, he’d remember her, perhaps even look forward to seeing her. And maybe he’d even want her.

Eventually, the carnival would move on. But she decided to follow no matter where they went. An affluent spinster, she could afford to travel anywhere.

The knowledge that nothing could stop her from seeing Herbie three times nightly gave her a deep sense of peace. She fell asleep thinking how he’d succumb to her charms when he recognized her inner beauty, her limitless capacity to love.

The next day, she went to the carnival hours before the first show, hoping to find the barker. When she asked around, somebody pointed to the hot dog stand.

She bought a hot dog and sat at the table next to the barker’s. After a few minutes, she said, “Hello. Your zombie show is quite impressive."

“Glad you like it. I noticed you were at all the shows last night. Are you from the Herbie Fan Club?"

“Oh no. I’m just hooked on the show. It’s so entertaining. Herbie really is the friendliest zombie in the world. He’s also the most handsome and entertaining performer I’ve ever seen. Have you ever thought of having him try out for a Broadway musical?"

“I don’t think that’d work."

“I can’t imagine why. He does everything remarkably well. He’s extremely talented, and he’s the most dynamic performer I’ve ever seen."

“Yes, he does come across that way. But there’s lotsa complicated stuff involved to make that happen. More than you could ever imagine."

“Well, how complicated can it be? James throws a switch on that machine of yours, and off he goes. Look, I came here for a reason. I’d like to make you a proposition. As a patron of the arts, and considering how talented your zombie is, I think he needs someone who has the means to sponsor him and lead him to higher things. Plays. Musicals. A concert at Carnegie Hall. Perhaps he can even play his violin with the New York Philharmonic. Or sing with the Metropolitan Opera. Frankly, I can offer Herbie a better life than a traveling carnival. I’d like to buy Herbie. How much do you want for him?”

“He ain’t for sale."

“Not even for a million dollars?"

The barker’s eyes widened. You wanna pay a million dollars for a dead zombie?"

“For goodness sakes! You make it sound like he’s lower than a maggot. I’ll pay you a million for Herbie and that ugly machine that James operates. Of course I’ll want an operator’s manual, the restraining chair, and whatever else is necessary to make everything work smoothly."

“Like I said, Herbie ain’t for sale."

“How about renting him?"

“Rent Herbie? I never heard of renting out a zombie. Come to think of it, we shut down the show from Thanksgiving until mid-January. Money gets pretty tight. If I agreed, you’d hafta set up a place for his special equipment, and get a backup generator in case of power failures. You’d also hafta sign papers promising that you wouldn’t use him in any public performances. Let me think about it. How can I reach you?"

“I’ll be at every show from now on."

The next day, Wilma had lunch at the country club with her best friend, Elsie. While eating, she asked Elsie to accompany her to the carnival. She didn’t let on that she’d already been there.

“I haven’t been to a carnival in thirty years,” Elsie said. “Frankly, I don’t like them. They attract scummy people. Why on earth do you want to go a carnival, Wilma?"

“To see the zombie show. I heard it’s terrific. How about coming along?"

“No way! Zombies give me the creeps. I hear they eat human brains. For crying out loud, Wilma, zombies are the walking dead. Why on earth do you want to be anywhere near a walking corpse?"

“This zombie’s different,” Wilma said. “He’s domesticated. The paper said he’s wonderful with children. And he’s supposed to be very handsome."

“I don’t care what they said. A zombie is a zombie."

Unable to overcome Elsie’s resistance, Wilma changed the subject.

Wilma was terribly disappointed by Elsie’s refusal to see Herbie’s show. She was certain that Elsie would’ve been captivated by his looks, charm, talent. Then it would’ve been so easy to explain the joy she felt by falling in love with a zombie.

That night after the last show, the barker approached Wilma. “Herbie ain’t for sale or rent. I like things the way they are. Besides, if we lose control of him, there might be trouble."

Wilma cried all night.

The day the carnival left town and headed for Cleveland, Wilma checked into that city’s best hotel. For the next two weeks, she waved to Herbie from the front row and bought his autographed photos.

By the time the carnival played in the Chicago suburbs, Herbie was used to seeing Wilma at every show. One night, he acknowledged her presence at the start of the show. He asked her to stand, calling her “My good friend, Wilma."

When the carnival played Indianapolis, Herbie called Wilma to the stage, put his arm around her, and introduced her to the applauding audience. When he told them she hadn’t missed a single show for two months, they clapped even louder.

Herbie autographed the photos she bought after every show with a different caption every time. The messages had grown warmer. One evening, he wrote, “Wish we could meet and talk."

Wilma wept from joy.

The next day, she spotted the barker sitting alone at the carnival’s pizza stand. He was so used to seeing her, he didn’t raise an eyebrow when she came to his table.

“How’s it going, Tom?"

“Fine, Wilma. I gotta say, you sure are one helluva gutsy woman. I never figured you’d go so far to be around Herbie. What gives? What’s so important about a zombie that a woman your age has to follow him no matter where he goes?"

“I’m in love with Herbie."

“Geez, Wilma. You should hear what you sound like. Are you gonna spend your life pursuing a zombie? He’s dead. He was buried over fifty years ago. Dr. Dumont’s journal says Herbie doesn’t even have a heart. All his internal organs are gone. He’s filled with embalming fluid to keep his body from collapsing. When he waves his arms, and you’re standing close enough, you can hear fluid sloshing inside."

“But he has charm, and spirit, and gusto and—”

“That was all programmed into the electronic gadgets Dumont put into his skull after all Herbie’s brains were sucked out. Do you know that the top of Herbie’s head has hinges? That James has to open his skull once a week to blow compressed air through all the electrical equipment in there? If James didn’t do that, we’d never be able to rouse Herbie from his death trance. So stop and think about what it is you love. Herbie’s a dead man who was turned into a zombie by a witch doctor. He’s a cadaver that doesn’t rot, because of high-tech embalming fluid. He’s got no heart. No lungs. His head is full of electronics. A head that has hinges. A head that needs to be cleaned every week with compressed air. How can you sit there and tell me you love such a thing?"

“You don’t know what love is, Tom!”

“Not the kind you’re talking about. Listen, Wilma. What if I told you I was in love with a vampire? One that sucked blood from little kids. What would you say?”

“I’d say that vampires need love too. Just like zombies. And werewolves. And ghouls."

Figuring Wilma for a harmless loon, the barker never mentioned her actions again.

Wilma followed them to Atlanta. Then Miami. That’s where she discovered Herbie had a dark side.

During the final show on closing night, Herbie was doing a handstand on a bicycle’s handlebars. A teen threw an egg that smashed against Herbie’s head, throwing him off balance. He fell off the bike and hit the floor hard.

Wilma screamed. The barker tried to help Herbie to his feet, but the zombie roughly shoved him aside. The barker yelled to James, “Reduce renticular renification to seven point nine."

James turned switches and pressed buttons like a madman.

Suddenly, Herbie sprang to his feet and growled. The sound so unnerved the audience, many rushed to the exits.

Wilma ran to the stage and threw her arms around Herbie. His behavior changed instantly. He smiled and called to the audience, “Hey, c’mon back. It’s all part of the act. Don’t be alarmed. Everything’s cool.” He kissed Wilma’s cheek. Eyes twinkling, he said, “Thanks, Wilma. You’re a sweetie. We oughta hug more often."

The barker couldn’t thank Wilma enough for what she’d done, though he wasn’t sure which had calmed Herbie: Wilma’s embrace, or renificator signals. Even James was uncertain if he’d completed the calming sequence before Wilma hugged the zombie.

As a reward for preventing a potential disaster, the barker decided to integrate Wilma into Herbie’s act. At first, she did little things: passed him juggling balls,setup tables for his magic acts, rolled out the bicycle on which he performed acrobatics.

Wilma was never happier.

She wrote a letter to Elsie explaining in great detail everything that’d transpired. Elsie never answered. She refused to accept the facts that Wilma was involved with a traveling carnival, worked in a zombie show, and was in love with a corpse.

***

After a year, Wilma felt as if something was still missing in her relationship with Herbie—something she couldn’t articulate. On one hand she wanted to find ways to get closer. On the other, she wasn’t sure how to bridge the chasm that still separated them. When the answer came to her in a dream, she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

After careful consideration, she explained her plans to the barker.

“Are you sure, Wilma?” he asked.

“Positive. I can’t think of anything I want more than this."

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Wilma, you’re one helluva a gutsy woman. In fact, you have more guts than any ten men I know."

“It’s not guts, Tom. It’s love."

Wilma disappeared the next day.

After three years, few people remembered Wilma had ever existed. But Herbie didn’t forget. Her name was the final word he uttered every night before he dropped his head and died.

***

On a beautiful Spring evening in a Denver suburb, the carnival barker stood outside the zombie show tent. In his proudest voice, he called out to the meandering crowds, “Step right up ladies and gentlemen. Step right up and see Herbie and Wilma, the friendliest zombies in the world.”