Attack of the Zombie Chupacabras: How Cendy Wilksersum Saved Humanity

By Hacker Johnson

What can you do when Zombie Chupacabras, Santa Claus, an Evil Clown, and Aliens are out to kill you and your friends? You fight back! Follow Nimrod Slacker, Cendy Wilkersum, Lars, Walt, Chief, Little Bit, Bam Bam and QVC as they travel across the United States looking for clues to save the world? Will they be successful? This one of a kind book is sure to please!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329152700

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Attack of the Zombie Chupacabras: How Cendy Wilksersum Saved Humanity

ATTACK OF THE ZOMBIE CHUPACABRAS:  How Cendy Wilkersum Saved Humanity

HACKER JOHNSON

Copyright © 2015 by Hacker Johnson

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2015

ISBN: 978-1-329-15270-0

Hacker Johnson, Fairfax Station, VA, 22039

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my current co-workers for allowing me to use characters very loosely based on them in this work.  I would also like to thank Ms. Martha Coates for her outstanding drawings and Ms. Tina Johnson for her editing.

Chapter 1: The Camp

I looked over at Officer Simpson.  I had tried to prepare him for what he was about to see.  Nimrod is an interesting case.  He is a psychological enigma.  Officer Simpson’s nodding head indicated his agreement, but I knew he was not ready.  I had worked with Nimrod for over three years.  As someone with over thirty years in the business, I can honestly say he is highly unusual!  I know of four different personality disorders he exhibited: overt narcissistic disorder, pathological lying, grandiose thoughts, and obsessive compulsive disorder.  I was really worried when State budget cuts allowed all these…..harmless…..cases out.  And I am still very worried. The Conrow State Hospital of Fairbanks had run into serious financial problems, and thirty percent of the patients were released.  Against my recommendations, Nimrod and his crew were released.  It is true that they seem harmless, but deep down inside every psychiatrist knows the ones that need to remind separated from society--this group definitely fit the bill.  I argued at great length, but to no avail.  Nimrod and his groupies were out and, by the looks of it, making big plans.  It took some convincing but, after five days of pestering, Officer Simpson joined me in this surprise visit to the camp.  The group consisted of about fifteen individuals.  Some had been put away for just a few and some were like Nimrod, almost thirty years.  My goal, if I could just convince Officer Simpson, was to get an assessment that would allow us to force the entire group back to the State Hospital.  Hello, Nimrod, I said. As he turned his head toward me, I prepared for all hell to break loose.

Chapter 2:  What’s Up Doc?

Dr. Nerraw, what a surprise! Saying that my statement was a lie was a true understatement.  I knew that Dr. Nerraw was coming, and I knew that my actions have already saved his life.  Seeing the future and affecting the past is a huge burden--I never understood why God chose me. What brings you here? I had to keep pretending that I didn’t know the future, just to humor Dr. Nerraw--although he knows good and well I can predict the future.  I had only been in his hospital for about a month, but he says I have been here much longer.  My gang has all been here a lot longer than I have.  Are they crazy?  I don’t think so, but Dr. Nerraw sure does.  He does not know what they are capable of.  He does not know how I am going to use them to save the world; we are all just instruments of God.  I guess you could say that I have been there and done that!  The time machine does come in handy.  I looked down at my watch, June 5th 2015.  This is a day that I will always remember: the beginning of a new era.  The road ahead is long, and a lot of people will die--but the earth will be saved.  Not even my disciples know what’s going to happen.  That’s why I am glad they were here from the beginning. So, Doc, I guess you want to chat?

Chapter 3:  Cops!

Dr. Nerraw had been a little aggressive in his efforts to get me out here to the camp.  There is no doubt that I am face to face with a large number of lunatics.  I worked for the Fairbanks police department for the past twenty-five years, and the past week alone has been weirder than my whole career combined.  I guess that’s what you get when you befriend a psychiatrist at Bud’s bar.  The weather has been a little warmer than usual.  I guess that’s how this group of psychos withstood a week in the Alaskan outdoors.  Other than a little trash here and there, the camp was tidy. I asked Dr. Nerraw where they got the hippie van.  He didn’t know.  I hadn’t seen a van like that since I went to an Allman Brothers concert in 1973.  I am also very tired.  Yesterday, I was called out to Eilsen Air Force Base, where a retired Air Force Navigator named Joe Hill was transferred from base security force into my custody.  Joe had quite the story.  He had been stationed at Eilsen in the 1960s and swore that a UFO had routinely visited him while he worked on the flight line.  Curiously,

no one else had even seen this UFO.  After retiring from the Air Force, Joe lived in seclusion for over thirty with his Labrador Cujo.  He had recently returned to Fairbanks and began preaching from a street corner.  Joe’s message was one of repentance and to get ready for the firestorm.  When I picked Joe up from the base, all he could say was something about his dog being taken up by the UFO to avoid being consumed in the forthcoming apocalypse.  Another strange request.  Joe wanted me to lock him up in the city jail, to give him several months of provisions, and to give him the key to the cell.  Essentially, he wanted to be locked away for his own protection.  From his ramblings, I could not really tell what he was afraid of, but I do know he was afraid.  Now in front of me, I am faced with the oddest assortment of people.  A cast of characters is what I could refer to them.  Sitting in a circle around a campfire, the group all sat with an eerie smile on each of their faces.

Chapter 4:  Superheros?

Officer Simpson was looking on in disbelief.  There was probably no one on earth who could better describe each of these misfits than me.  After all, I have spent many years analyzing and doping these patients.  I guess I can’t consider them patients now, and I would definitely not consider them friends.  I wonder what they think of me now?  A book could be written on each of them.  In fact, I have presented a psychiatric profile on two of them at the Northern Alaska Psychiatric Association annual meeting in Barrow.  I submitted an abstract on Nimrod for the National Association of Cognitive Psychology annual meeting, but that was turned down.  They thought I must have made this person up, as no one could be so out-there.

To our far left was Chief Martilla.  I never really found out why her first name was Chief, but that’s what everyone called her.  She was dressed like Evil Knievel, drove a mini-bike but without a motorcycle helmet.  Chief loved to exercise, and she was the camp’s best cook.  Maybe they should call her Chef?

Chief had been institutionalized after continually reporting a brother as missing.  All records indicated that Jo-Jo never existed.

Next to Chief was Quentella.  Quentella liked to go by her full name, Quentella Victoria Chesterfield.  I guess it’s no surprise the group called her QVC.  QVC had been institutionalized for two disparate reasons.  The first was after a family intervention for shopping habits.  Although she came from a very wealthy Pittsburgh family, she spent over $8 Million dollars on television shopping networks in one year alone.  The second reason was quite bizarre.  QVC continually sent harassing letters to Bob Barker, all with the same theme: he needed to warn all dog-lovers of the impending dire situation for dogs.  QVC thought