Victims, Violence, and Vengeance

April 6, 2013 at 3:09 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , )

As Brown and Trevor ran away from the carnage and the sounds of tearing flesh, Brown shouted at the teen, “Try your damn cell phone again!”

The dull glow lit Trevor’s face for a moment and Brown could see it was clenched in fear. “I’m trying 911, but it isn’t working.”

“Maybe this thing is more wide spread than we thought. I think we should just get out of here.” His boots made crunching noises as they passed over the pavement into the dirt lot where the eighteen wheels parked.

“Damn it, Nick has the keys to the rig!”

“Crap, Glen had the keys to the truck too.”

“You don’t have a set?” Trevor stopped moving as he spoke and as soon as the pair ceased running the sounds of pursuit could be heard. The freaks, maniacs, or whatever they were, moaned like lost souls as their feet slowly shuffled over the barren parking lot.

“I have a set, but it’s in my bag…” but Brown barely focused on his words, because his thoughts lingered on the horses. They should be safe in the trailer, but if something happens to Bucky or Sage, I could never forgive myself.

“Does that mean we have to go back there to get the keys?” the tone of Trevor’s voice let Brown know that this was about the last thing the youth wanted to do. “I mean there has to be someone around that could help us.”

“Maybe,” Brown said, while he still wondered over the safety of his horse. Looking back he saw that the two madmen from the road still approached them, while the two that feasted on Nick had already chosen to leave the man behind and take up the chase. What froze the blood in his veins was seeing Glen get onto his feet and lurch his way. He moaned like the others, appeared mindless like the others… But Glen had died. Then it hit him. Could Glen be dead… like the others?

When an eviscerated Nick pushed himself up and kept moving despite his guts spilling over the slick pavement, Brown had seen enough.  “I don’t know what the hell is happening, but it’s killing people and we need-”

Trevor emptying the contents of his stomach over the dirt between his shoes interrupted him.

“Come on Trev we need…”

His voice trailed off as a small hatchback drove into the gas station.

They pulled up to the far pumps. Already some of the freaks had turned their attentions to the new car. “They can’t see what’s happening from where they parked,” Brown whispered.

His breath stuck in his lungs when he saw a young women exit the vehicle and get followed by small girl. “Mommy, can I use the bathroom first. I need to go so bad.”

Two of the stumblers still focused on the men, while the two that had killed Nick, as well as Glen and Nick turned their attentions to the mother and her child.

“We have to help them,” he said softly, but then cried out loudly, “Miss, miss, watch out!” She looked over at him, like he was a serial killer, as she clutched her child close to her. “I…ah.”

She started to rush her child to toward the locked doors of the gas station, but then the bloody men caught her attentions and she screamed.

Scanning the ground, Brown spied a battered two-by-four. “Trevor, get your shit together!” he yelled. “Grab a weapon. We need to save her.” Then, without looking back, he sprinted toward the girls. A low growl escaped from his lips as he ran.

 

 

To be continued next Saturday!

 

 

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Cowboys, Trucks, and Bad Luck

March 23, 2013 at 1:55 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , )

As the last of the cattle headed up the loading ramp that lead to the back of a semi, Brown let out a contented sigh of relief. Their two weeks of hot work under the blaring New Mexico sun had paid off. Soon, if everything went well, they would be reaping the rewards of their hard labor, but the team still needed to get the fifty head of cattle to southern California first.

“Looks like a fine group of huffers you got here, Brown,” Nick said, as he wiped his dirty arm across his forehead. Having said his piece, the older man moved to the cab of his semi and started up the engine.

Brown’s partner Glen had finished loading their horses into the back of the trailer and with Nick’s nephew Trevor in tow, moved over to watch the last of the cattle enter the semi.

“Another job well done,” his buddy said, while brushing the dust off his jeans with his Stetson.

“You guys were up in the Gila a long time, huh,” Trevor said with a sloppy grin. “Any Broke-back Mountain action happen between you two?”

“The only broken back around here’s going to be yours, if you keep talking trash,” Glen said, before placing his hat back over his jet black mane of hair.

Brown laughed before saying, “Yeah, you better wise up youngster. Besides, who are you to talk, the closest you ever get to a pussy is when you pet your grandmother’s cat.”

With an angry glare, Trevor stormed off to join his uncle in the semi. After shutting and securing the back doors, the cowboys climbed into the pick-up, they used to haul the horse trailer, and headed off toward I-10.

 

*         *         *

Several hours later, the two vehicles were just reaching the outskirts of Tucson. The sun had set three hours earlier and the city glowed like a sea of fallen stars. Glen, who drove, looked over at him. “It looks like we’re running a little low on gas. I hate stopping in Phoenix. Let’s just fuel up here and we’ll probably be good for the whole way to Cali.”

“Fine by me. I could use a beer.”

“Oh, that’s real fair, you drink and I drive.”

“Sorry, bud, it’s in my contract.”

“We’ll see about that,” Glen answered with a smile. After contacting the semi, the trailer led the way into the Triple T Truckstop. The semi pulled past them heading to the special pumps reserved for the big rigs, while Glen glided them into the normal pumps that lined the parking lot in front of the store.

Brown hopped out of the pickup and said, “I’ll head in and grab us some supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Ale for you and coffee for me, right.”

Brown called over his shoulder. “Come on. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll grab you a sandwich.”

After two weeks in the hills, the idea of grabbing a few cold ones did appeal to him and Brown was debating whether he should grab some or wait until they got to California when he reached the front doors and found them locked.

He tried them again. “What the hell?” he said out loud. “They can’t be closed. It isn’t even ten o’clock.” He was about to bang on the doors when he saw something odd inside. To the right of the checkout stand, he could just make out a smear on the floor near one of the central isles. He tried to peer in. It was hard to tell, but it appeared to have a reddish hue.

Glen’s voice distracted him.

“Hey, buddy are you okay?”

At first Brown thought he was talking to him, but upon turning, he saw that a lone man limped across the parking lot toward the trailer.

Glen spoke again. “What’s going on—oh crap! Brown, get over here! This guy’s covered in blood. There must have been an accident on the highway.”

Brown hurried to help, but Glen reached the man first. “Alright buddy, I think you need to lie down. You’re probably in shock. I’ll call 911. Were there any other people in the accident? We’ll need to—ahhhhhhh. Oh damn. Ahhh. Brown help!”

But it was already too late.

Even from twenty feet away, Brown saw the blooding man strike forward with his head and latch his teeth onto the side of Glen’s neck. With a growl, the madman tore a chunk out of Glen’s jugular, which released a shower of blood. Glen stumbled back. He pressed his hand over his wound and looked like he could barely stay on his feet.

But the man went after him again. Glen cried out as they both toppled over. Inside of the trailer, the horses lost control and began to whinny and kick the doors.

Brown only stopped long enough to grab a window cleaning stick, which he smashed the attacker on the back of the head with. The man didn’t seem to care and Glen’s screams reached new heights as the fiend took a huge bite out of his cheek.

“Get off him, you freak!” Brown yelled, as he gripped the stick with two hands and used it to pull the man away by his neck. The figure turned on him with gnashing teeth and Brown was barely able to avoid receiving a bite.

zombie

He backed away as the blood dripping figure came at him again. It was lunging forward until its head exploded with a shower of blood that sprayed the front of Brown’s trench coat.

“Oh damn,” he whispered, but then heard loud moaning.

“Brown, hurry up. There are more of them,” Glen managed to gasp as a spiral of smoke emerged from his pistol.

“More of what? What the hell is going on?”

“How would I know? But help me. I think I’m dying…”

 

To be continued next Saturday!

 

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In the eye of the Undead

July 21, 2012 at 12:12 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , )

Cutting and prying his way to the roof only let Max know how screwed he really was. There must be over fifty zombies in my yard and who knows who many more inside? Where’s everyone else? I can’t be the only one alive already. I’m safe from them, but what am I going to do, just starve up here?

He sat on the roof and set the sword down, so he could bury his face in his hands. He allowed himself two minutes to wallow in his self-pity while the moaning of the dead became a constant chorus from hell.

“Ergg, this sucks.” He wiped a grimy hand over his wet brow and groaned. After a final deep breath, he said, “Alright, time to buck up.”

He stood up and took in the surroundings. He knew his yard well and there was plenty of gear that could help him, but there wasn’t much he could get from either his house or the yard. Undead swarmed everywhere. Their jaws snapped at the air. Even though he knew the things were mindless, he could swear he saw hate in their eyes. It was as though they hated his existence and wanted to devour it leaving nothing behind.

For his own satisfaction more than anything else, he lay on his stomach, near the edge of the roof, so he could get a few cinder blocks from his make-shift shelves. Max could only grab two safely, but these he happily tossed down onto the center of two of the zombie’s heads. They each when down, but in the time it took him to do all that another dozen had appeared.

“How has the world turned to shit so quickly? Damn!”

He started pacing. The frenzied mob of walking corpses did nothing but grow. On one for his sweeps, he stopped near his western neighbor’s house. The house stood ten feet away. A long jump, but maybe not impossible. There would be enough room for him to get a good running start.

Another thing that appealed to him was the house’s four foot high brick wall. Sure the zombies could pull themselves over, but as long as he didn’t get a broken ankle, he should have enough time to make a break for the alley.

If I blow it, it’s all over, but I don’t feel like spending another minute up here. “A man has to try,” he whispered.

After tossing his sword across, he went to the far end of the roof. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and then he was off. His boots tore into the shingles. Below the undead screeched and groaned. Reaching the edge, he lunched himself into the air. No one was more surprised than he when his toe hit the neighbor’s roof and he didn’t even lose his footing on the other side.

“Hot damn!”

But the zombies were already reacting and trying to stream into his neighbor’s yard. The low fence held them back, but it wouldn’t last for long. After tossing his sword off, Max quickly lowered himself to the ground. The first zombie toppled over the wall. It grunted when its face smashed into the dirt below.

Max snatched up his sword and hacked at the back of the thing’s neck. It took two meaty whacks, but the zombie stopped moving. But now another four were crashing onto his side. He fenced one through the eye, but then turned and ran. They stumbled after him as more poured over the wall.

With the help on his free hand, Max vaulted over the wall and took to the alley heading west. A tall zombie loomed up from behind a dumpster. Max swung the sword two handed, acting more like a batter than some medieval knight. A loud crack sounded and the thing went down hard. Max couldn’t be sure if it was dead or not, but just kept running.

He was almost free of the alley when something made him hold up. A cherry red mountain bike leaned against a garage and it wasn’t even locked. Despite the moaning that grew closer every second, Max took the time to climb over the chain link fence and grab the bike.

He let out a cheer as he tore off into the street. One hand held his sword against the handlebars while the other cranked up the gears as high as they could go. A minute later, the moaning had disappeared behind him.

 

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Zombie March

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Under a Mob of teeth

April 7, 2012 at 6:19 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , )

The zombies within the library already converged on the pair. Arms and fingers clawed at them like horrors erupting from a grave. Since all their guns had emptied, there was little Devon and Emily could do other than bash through the undead’s ranks swinging wildly as they went. Devon’s machete led the way, while Emily struggled to keep their snapping jaws away by using her rifle as a club.

Dells, Becca, and Fosters, had cleared a space and held their own under the area where the ramp to the upper level had broken away. “Looks like Haeds must have dynamited the ramp,” Devon panted, as he broke through the last few zombies into the relative safety of where their new allies stood.

Behind them, the walking dead from all over the high school poured into the library. “Crap we gotta move!”

“No kidding,” Dells yelled, as he tipped the large library tables onto their side.

“Okay, Emily, you’re first.”

“Why her?” Dells demanded.

“She’s the best shot. Fosters help me. You two try to keep them off our backs.” Fosters hesitated. “Come on,” Devon shouted. “We only have seconds!”

Fosters rushed over and together the two men lifted Emily toward the jagged edge of the upper level. Her fingers grabbed at a chuck of cement, but it came off in her hand sending dust into Devon’s upturned face. He cursed, but couldn’t spare a hand to wipe the grit free. Behind him, the moans of the zombies grew louder.

“Come on,” Devon said under his breath. Her hands grabbed at the edge of the broken walkway and she was able to stand up—first on their cupped hands and then she scrambled up onto their shoulders.  “Get your hands under her feet,” Devon ordered. “Okay, one, two, THREE!”

A zombie had a fistful of his jacket and pulled Devon backward.  “Emily grab on!” He managed to get out as a tugging forced him to let go. He watched Fosters struggling, but then he felt his neck being pulled toward a snapping mouth.

He went with the pull, but spun and brought his elbow into the corpse as hard as he could. The zombie lost its grip on his jacket, but there were three more shambling teenager corpses behind the first one and he was yards from here he had placed his machete.

Going low, he kicked the one he had just fought in the solar plexus. It fell over taking another one with it. A thick wooden chair quickly filled his hands. One took a chair leg to the temple. Devon gave him a second smash, harder this time and no one was more surprised than him when the blow caved in the Zombie’s skull. Lucky for me, these Walkers are getting old. The last zombie had the chair heaved at his legs, which sent him stumbling over a pile of spilled books.

But dozens more gathered in the library and would be at them in moments.

Something hit him on the top of the head. Turning back, he saw a rope ladder. “Devon, get up here! I found the gun stash, but I have to reload.”

Dells and Becca were already engaging the second wave of undead. A hundred had to be within the library. Devon hacked down the one he had elbowed in the throat and shouted. “Fosters, go. Grab a gun and get busy.” The teacher scrambled up the ladder in frantic haste.

Devon hacked the one on the book pile before it could regain its feet and then a second was put out of its misery. He had a small reprieve, but it wouldn’t last long. He toppled over two book cases and started to heave chairs into the approaching horde.

“What are you two waiting for? Start up the damn ladder.”

Dells retreated until he and Devon fought back to back. Becca threw them a look and started up the ladder. She was behind them. She should have been safe, but a girl dressed in a black stained cheerleader outfit led a group that had circled around the book stacks and came at them from behind.

A horrid scream stunned the two men, but it was already too late. The pain of the bite had caused Becca ‘s grip to weaken and the three zombies pulled her off the rope ladder. In what could be considered a merciful turn of fate, her head connected with a bookcase and she was unconscious, if not dead, before she hit the floor.

“Becca!” Dells screamed.

Devon grabbed his arm as the ghouls began to feast. Behind them grey matter exploded as Emily and Fosters opened up on the masses below. Since they were firing from above, it only made making the head shot easier. “She’s gone. We owe it to humanity to survive. You’re a sheriff. Keep the rest of us alive!”

With an angry nod, he threw his bat into the face of the closest zombie and then started up the ladder. Devon guarded his back, but between their walls, the well placed shots from above, and the gruesome feast at his feet, Devon made it up the ladder before the horde could grab him. He gave one last look at Becca’s body painting the floor in ugly red strips, tucked his machete through his belt, and climbed over the lip onto the second floor.

 

 

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Desperation

March 24, 2012 at 2:11 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , )

A group of three Walkers forced the five of them to slow down just outside of the door to the library, which hopefully held Haeds’ arsenal. Sheriff Dells was still rushing up to aid Becca whose aggressive behavior had lead her to being their point.

The first one charging Becca was rewarded with a baseball bat to the teeth. She yelled as they bounced off the dirty tiles likes a handful of jagged snow. The second moved in at her back, but Dells was there and nearly took off its head with a swing of his bat. Emily took out the third with one of her few remaining bullets.

Devon stayed more worried about what they’d left behind than what lay before them, for nearly a hundred zombies crowded into the narrow hallway and toppled the flimsy tables aside. Like a rotting flood of flesh, they poured down the corridor after them. He yelled, “Get moving. They’re coming. We don’t have any time!”

Becca’s mad dash continued and she flung open the library door and rushed in without any hesitation.Devoncould just hear her shout, “It’s this way,” over the sea of moaning throats closing in on him.

Becca, Dells, and Fosters made it through the door and dashed ahead.Devonand Emily held up. “Em, this door has no lock!”Devonyelled. “Can you find anything to help keep it shut?”

Already half a dozen zombies pulled at it from the other side. Emily hurried to search through the nearby librarian desk. Then suddenly screamed, “Devonlook out!”

He felt icy hands grabbing into his shoulder and the rank breath of death in his nostrils a moment before theWalker’s head exploded and splashed his face with rotten gore.

“Devonthere’s nothing here!”

“Then we are just going to have to go for it, because I can’t hold this shut much longer. Can you see the others?”

“Yes, but there is a problem.”

“Holy hell, what is it?”

“They are clustered under some raised second floor, but the normal way up there has been destroyed!”

“There must be a rope ladder or something. We need to get one of us up there and then they can drop it down.”

“Okay, but one other thing.” He could hear the panic in her voice. “Devon, that was my last bullet.”

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Escape into Darkness

January 28, 2012 at 12:11 pm (Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , , , , )

So far, Devon’s idea to lead the zombies deeper into the cafeteria had not proved fatal. He and the sheriff held the door at the front of the food serving area. They fought back against the quickly massing group of undead, while Fosters and the girls scouted the exit back into the main room.

“It’s working,” Emily hissed at him. “They’re all coming toward you. The left side of the caf, is mostly clear.”

“How about that hallway we need to get to?” He yelled back as his machete cut through half a co-eds neck.

“They’re still coming out, but I think we’d have a chance.”

“Good,” Dells shouted, “Because I don’t think we can hold out here much longer.

“Emily, start across the caf,” Devon ordered. “Get ready Dells. On three, one, two, three!”

And then they ran. Foster and the women had a got head start, but the half dozen zombies in their path quickly slowed them down. The undead on the right side of the cafeteria let out a loud moan and as one mass moved at them. If his group didn’t move fast, they would be cut off by over fifty of the walking dead.

“Don’t fight them, just go.” Devon yelled.

He saw Foster use his bat like a pole and push a Walker into another one that had moved to block their path. Emily would pause to put a bullet through a head, but mostly just ran. Strangely it was Becca that now led the way and she seemed to take great pleasure in swinging her bat into as many faces as she could as they passed through the unturned chairs and gory tables.

Devon and Dells had now caught up to Emily and they rushed through the door that led into the hallway past the cafeteria. Right behind them came dozens of wax faced teens who stretched their arms forward while their mouths snapped open and shut in anxious anticipation of sinking their teeth into warm prey.

There weren’t as many Walkers in this hallway, but it was narrower and harder to just dodge by them. “This way,” Beeca screamed and took off running until she reached a girl in a dress covered with thick black stains. She paused only long enough to smash it in the head and kept going. A zombie wearing a football jersey grabbed her by the hair, from behind , and moved in for a bite until a bullet from Emily’s rifle caused its head to explode in a spray of rotten matter.

“Becca! Slow down,” Dells called as he tried to catch up with her.

The horde was exiting the cafeteria behind them and Devon stopped long enough to block their path with a long folding table and then hurried after the others. He tried to stick close to Emily and guard her back as she picked her targets.

She stopped again to try to make a shot, but the undead were right behind them, so Devon grabbed her arm and rushed her forward. “Come on! I can see the library, let’s go. I just hope that really is where that bastard keeps his weapons or we’re screwed!”

 

*         *         *

The courtyard of the makeshift complex went silent as the small convey entered. Mar’s feelings of dread increased as she took in the surroundings. What had once been a large series of apartment complexes had been surrounded by the high walls she had seen from outside. In some places, the apartments themselves made up part of the walls or were used the anchor them. The large parking lot was centered in an area where the walls had been constructed further away from the complexes and new structures had been added. Some looked utilitarian, while others appeared odd and their possible purposes she could only guess at. The most obvious of these new structures and clearly the one that dominated the others was a giant church.

This church had to be five stories tall in some places, but where most churches she had seen were stream-lined and had a logical plan, this one appeared strange and chaotic. Long turrets loomed over walls made from miss matched scraps. It had more doors and windows than any ten normal churches, but what really had her nails digging into the palms of her hands was the symbol painted in red on the front of the structure.

Mar was no expert on such things, but she knew a pentagon when she saw it. It had two of its five point angled toward the sky.

In a way that reminded her of the zombies just beyond the walls, the crowd of people moved in and slowly surrounded their vehicles.

“We’re so screwed,” she whispered.

 

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Surrounded by Trouble, Trapped by Death

January 21, 2012 at 1:59 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , , , )

A feeling a dread built within her soul, as the small convoy approached what Rik and Trent claimed was a safe house. The place looked more like a medieval fortress to her. Huge walls had been constructed from what might have been demolished homes and the like. These haphazard walls stretched twenty feet into the air and were surrounded by several hundred Walkers. Fires burned every hundred feet or so and as the sun dimmed down behind Gate’s Pass, she could see figures moving before this scattered flames.

“Sure doesn’t look like the place is deserted to me,” Mar said, as a chill caused her to shiver uncontrollably.

“That could be a good thing,” Jonathan said. “Looks like a secure spot to me. Don’t worry, people always welcome a doctor.”

“I have a bad feeling.” She grasped his arm. “Please just turn around before it’s too late. If the others want to throw their lives away, that’s their business, but we still have time to escape!”

“Marry, relax, will you. Not everyone is evil. And escape where, I might add,” he said while turning his older face toward her. “We’re going to see this through. Look they’re helping us. Those horns of theirs are herding the zombies to the other side of their fort. We should be able to enter easily.”

“That’s what I’m afraid off.”

 

*         *         *

They were finally prepared and as Spencer looked out over the simmering desert, he discovered that it was just soon enough. His eyes squinted against the glare, despite his shades, as he tried to take in the lumbering mass of undead that plotted toward them.

They came by the score, maybe four hundred in all. Their clothes hung in rags that were black with filth. They looked thin to the point where he wondered how they could still be moving. Although some here and there looked well feed and figured that was Hades doing. He wouldn’t put much past that freak.

His eyes shifted back to the quickly constructed trap before him. Two miles past the ranch, a narrow cement bridge spanned a deep canyon. It was just wide enough for Spencer and Brown to have parked two pickup trucks facing each other in the center of the bridge. Over these vehicles that had secured four by eight plywood boards and covered them with motor oil and any other types of grease they could dig up.

When these fly-bags come for us, they will try to climb over these puppies and get a big surprise, he smiled to himself.

All of those people that had remained behind were there with him, including Haeds and Spencer seriously hoped that he would be taken down a notch by being forced to watch his precious ‘family of zombies’ tumble down into the ravine below.

He knew this could still be a difficult battle, ten people versus four hundred Walkers, but it was his sister and Devon that his thoughts kept clinging to, even as the undead army neared.

 

*          *         *

They had only made it halfway across the large cafeteria when Devon last pistol ran out of bullets.

“Why the hell are there so many Walkers in here?” Emily yelled, as she fired her rifle close enough to a zombie to be sprayed by its gore, after its head exploded.

“I think he stored his reserves here,” Becca shouted, as her bat cracked into the head of a zombie that couldn’t have been older than fourteen when it died. Despite their efforts, there had to be over thirty undead still lingering within the cafeteria and more poured in from the hallway every few seconds. “My evil shithead brother was always hung up on high school, because he was such a loser here. Even though he’s twenty-four, he never moved past it.”

“Great,” Devon mumbled as he drew his machete. Three girls, who might have been preppy before the years of decay set in, lunged toward him. He fenced forward, stabbing one through its rotten face. Another got to close and a well placed kick sent her tumbling into the third and they both went down. He was able to finish them off before they regained their feet, but others were coming at them from every side.

Officer Dells picked up and table and heaved it into a large group that blocked their path. “Retreat!” Devon yelled. “Fall back. Draw them away from that hallway and we might be able to circle around and make it through.”

“Unless more keep pouring out of there,” the sheriff shouted.

“I guess we better hope they don’t,” he growled, as be led the others toward the kitchen.

 

*         *         *

Haeds had remained handcuffed and under the ugly punk’s supervision. “Your trick won’t work on them. They’ll figure a way over.”

The punker tiffed. “Yeah cuz zombies are so fucking smart.”

“You’ll see, you little prick,” he replied, while straining against the cuffs.

“I should burn your eyes out with my smoke, you butthole. You’re nothing but a wanna be super villain and about the worst one I’ve ever seen. Even the Toad would kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll remember that while my family is crewing on your bones.”

Both men fell silent as the horde approached the plywood covered trucks. How well these losers and some to be meat pie’s trap would work was about to be tested and Haeds gritted his teeth as the front of his army started across the bridge.

 

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Bullets, Bats, and Blood

January 7, 2012 at 11:11 am (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , )

“You mean you’ve been kept up in that box for years? That seems impossible.”

“Oh, not always, he would take us out to torture us with his horrible ideas and plans,” Becca said.

“I’m not even sure I want to know,” Devon said, while searching the gym for alternative exits. Behind him the sounds of the undead banging against the doors grew.

“And I know I don’t.” Emily said.

Sheriff Dells stepped toward the teen. “Young lady. Now that we’re freed and getting all social, why don’t you hand that gun over to me. I’ll-”

She quickly raised her rifle to point to the center of his forehead. “You’ll get a bullet from me before you’ll get this gun.”

“I got her back on this,” Devon said. “I seriously doubt you’re as good a shot as her anyway, but wasn’t that what we were talking about—getting out of here and finding his weapons.”

Becca hands went to her thin hips. “I was getting to that. My evil ass brother used to try to take us out places like we were his court and he was our king, but mostly the undead made such things unreasonably difficult.”

“There were once many more of us.” Fosters added.

“But anyway,” Becca said, eying Fosters. “One of the things that used to happen at these events would be him presenting his Queen. He brought her here from time to time thinking that we could become friends, which might have been about the only plan he ever had that actually worked. Even if all she ever talked about was killing him.”

“But my point is…she talked about how she was kept in the library, up on the second floor. I think he destroyed the walkway that leads up there or something. So, like here, Anna would be trapped where he left her.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg of how crazy your brother is?”

“You can say that about a ten thousand times,” the sheriff grumbled.

“Your tale brings up three important issues,” Devon said. “Firstly there are probably still a few zombies guarding this library. Second, why would I leave guns lying around where I’m keeping someone who wants to kill me? And lastly, how do we get to this place?”

Becca still spoke for their potential allies. “I can probably answer all of those. I’m sure they are a few lingering, but he took most of them after you, so who knows for sure. I used to go to school here five years ago, so I know where the flipping library is. There’s an interior way, but I can’t guarantee it isn’t crawling with geeks. And you forget how crazy my brother is. His ego was bad before all this, but now he thinks he’s emperor of the dead or some shit. He might leave guns twenty feet from a shackled girl and Anna was shackled.”

“Alright, let’s hope you’re right. All of you, let’s scrounge you up some weapons and give this a try. If there are any extra firearms it won’t hurt, but we really need bullets more than anything.”

Dells kicked through a storage locker and grabbed the former prisoners each a baseball bat. Once armed, they approached a set of strong oak doors. Becca said, “This leads to the cafeteria and then around to the library. Left—right—right, okay?”

Devon nodded. Dells took a deep breath and threw the door open. A fourteen year old female zombie walked by. Her wrinkled form was dressed in a faded mini skirt and a torn t-shirt that said ‘flirty.’

“Em, try to save our bullets for emergencies if you can.” The zombie was just turning when Devon split her skull with his machete. Two more were between them and the cafeteria while another started shuffling at them from behind.

“I got this one,” Dells yelled and rushed to the one following them. “I’ve waited a long time for this, you bastards!” One violent smash later and the Walker’s head went flying off its body and hit the window with a loud bloody smack.

“Oh damn, Devon,” Emily said. “These are all high school kids.”

“Who cares,” Becca yelled and then charged the closer zombie. Her bat hit it in the head and it when down, but she kept hitting it again and again, long past what would be needed to cause it to expire.

“Forgive my friends,” Fosters said. “We have been trapped for quite some time. In fact…” he suddenly let out a cry and attacked the third zombie with equal vigor.

“These guys are pretty messed up Dev.”

“Yeah, I know, but we got other problems.” The shouting had summoned more Walkers, which appeared around the turn into the cafeteria. Devon drew his desert eagle and only hoped they had enough bullets to see this through. He took aim and the lead zombies head exploded in a jet of rancid gore.

 

Devon and Tezzy

 

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Uncertainity and Evil

December 31, 2011 at 5:32 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , , , , )

Mar clutched the door handle until her knuckles turned white. Undead lurched at them from every direction as they raced over the cluttered pavement. Half of the SUV Jon drove was already covered with black blood. She yelled when a head smacked the windshield in front of her.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “We shouldn’t be heading back into the city.”

“Mitch knows what he’s doing. You’re safe, honey.”

Honey huh, she thought to herself. This seriously sucks, even when I was a slave to the Rippers, at least they kept me from having to deal with this shit.

“Where’re we supposed to be going anyway?”

“Mitch and some of the others knew about some safe farms northeast of the city. Places that were built up, but then abandoned. They’re far enough out that any zombies that show up, we should be able to deal with.”

Jonathan’s handsome dark face moved left and right as he tried to avoid hitting the walking corpses. He was so nice to her. She would like to think it was because he thought highly of her and not because she was just young and cute and one of the only girls left alive in Tucson. “We might not move in, but it’s good enough for now.”

“How long has it been since someone else has been there? How do we know that it isn’t crawling with zombies or some other group hasn’t moved in?”

“You certainly seem to be on the paranoid side, my dear.”

“Don’t give me any of your psychiatrist crap,” she said. “Being paranoid is the only thing that has kept me alive.”

“You don’t have to worry now, I’ll protect you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure a hundred Rippers living behind razor wire thought they could protect me too.”

“This is different, they were evil. Besides we’re smarter than them.”

They were smart enough to capture you. “So how far is it?” she asked, just trying to distract herself from the gruesome collisions.

“About thirty miles, but we’re taking these northern roads so these Walkers shouldn’t get too bad.”

“What about the others? How will they find us?”

“Marry! This driving isn’t easy. Please try to support me and don’t ask me a million questions right now.”

She hunched forward. He gaze turned toward the window and the jagged angled forms emerging from the gathering gloom. They had no regard for their own safety and would fling themselves at the vehicles, the flesh. I hate them almost as much as I hate myself.

They followed the glowing taillights before them. A car skidded off the road when it ran over a concealed tire rim. It crashed headfirst into a parked car. The zombies were all over them before the group could do anything. She thought they would try to help anyway. They didn’t. The convoy moved on. It made her wonder what she really hated most.

 

*         *         *

The pain lingered like a sledge hammer. Haeds had been talking to himself for a while. “How could that asshole have done that to me? He cut off two of my fingers—that shitkicking prick! Well, there’s plenty of things he has two of.” He laughed at his own joke.

“Wait till my family comes, you idiots. You should have left with the cowards when you had the chance. Idiots. Fools. Fuckers! Gods of darkness, how I hate cowboys.” A string of curses escaped his lips while he fought against the ropes that bound him. More ropes held his legs to the chair.

“I could probably escape if I wanted to, you pricks. But why bother? I want to be here when my family is swallowing chunks of your flesh.”

After more mumbling and cursing to himself, Haeds heard the sounds of things banging around outside of the sweltering shack. Could they already be here? No, that’s something else. Besides there’s no way my family could have gotten here this fast.

He tried to listen harder. The wait grew vexing, especially when he had no clue as to what happened on the other side of the dry planks. About half an hour later, he heard maybe two vehicles start up and some shouting, but he couldn’t make out the words. He might have heard someone counting to three.

“What the hell is going on out there? All this not knowing is driving me nuts. They should know better than to do this to me. I’m the new God of this age, the king of the desert, the lord-”

“Of the, oh so, shitty pants,” the teen, Spike, said. “Damn, it smells like crap in here. You must have really shit yourself. I’d let you use the bathroom um…” the annoying boy leaned his face in closer. He hadn’t removed his shades and they were a little big making him look like a hyper fly. “If I didn’t HATE YOUR GUTS!”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“I’ll talk to you any damn way I like. Because of you, I haven’t seen my sister for a day. And Devon and I are best friends. If something happens to either one of them, I’ll beat you every day for a year and then I’ll slowly eat your arm off so you’ll know what it feels like, you freak.”

“You talk like that and call me a freak?”

“Ah…yeah.”

“How old are you, twelve.”

“I’m fifteen now, you piece of—oh hell, you aren’t even worth it.” He turned to go, but called over his shoulder. “I just came in here to let you know we figured out a way to waste your,” he used that asinine finger-quotes gesture, “family.” He reached the door and opened it. Night had claimed the land.

“Soon all your precious zombie pals will be nothing but rotten hamburger. And when we’re done, we’ll check your home town for beer, a-hole.”

The door slammed shut.

“He must be lying. There’s nothing these handful of idiots could do against my main army.” He paused. “Still they’re going to try something. I’ll need to try to stop it any way I can. They’ll be sorry they didn’t try to kill me when they got the chance. Not that they could. I’m a bloody God now. Even zombie bites don’t kill me. Soon I will rule the whole desert. They could have bowed to me and asked for mercy. I would have given it to them. I would have.”

An evil grin spread across his blood splattered face.

“But it’s too late now.”

 

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Waiting for the Dead

December 17, 2011 at 12:14 pm (Apocalypse, Eternal Aftermath, Horror, Zombie) (, , , , , )

Haeds’ face jerked up, leaving his well of self pity. What the hell’s happening out there? Are they taking off? It sounds like they’re all taking off? “They aren’t just going to leave me here? They can’t be that stupid?”

“Damn it, Spike. Why did you have to act like that?”

“Whatever, Mitch turned out to be a real self-righteous prick. He should’ve listened to reason.”

“I’m not sure flipping Mitch the bird helped in that department.”

Crap, he’s still here.

The door flew open revealing the two fuckers who had kidnapped him. I hate that bastard Brown. That half reatarded hick claimed two of my fingers! He will be made to pay. Perhaps I could hang him upside down and feed him to my family an inch at a time.

Strangely it was the young teen that came at him and struck him in the cheek. “Listen you crazy freak! You need to call those Walkers off. Seriously, call them off now. Send them into the desert or something. March em’ off a cliff.”

It became even odder when Brown came to his aid. “Relax kid. He can’t control zombies any better than us. He’s just immune to their attentions. This guy’s about as supernatural as my last turd.”

“Well then, shit, what’re we going to do?”

“Why, you wished we’d headed off with the others?”

“Noooooooo, I just, hell, I’m not even sure what to do anymore.”

Haeds grinned his way, exposing his bloody teeth. “Maybe you can be slowly eaten by my family.”

“You sick freak,” the teen said, and once again was restrained by the older man. “All of this is your fault. What did we ever do to you anyway?”

“To many things to mention,” Haeds hissed. “For one you came too close. I’m the king of the dead, the lord of the wastes.”

“Damn Haeds,” Brown said, “We just can’t beat the crazy out of you.”

“You can say that about a zillion times,” Spike said, while adjusting the shades he always wore.

“Spike, please do a head count and make sure Ann is okay for me. I got plans for this guy.”

The teen looked at Brown, then Haeds, then back at Brown. “Okay, but don’t be long. This loser’s army is going to be here pretty soon.”

Brown moved his face close to Haeds. “Don’t worry this piece of trash ain’t worth me wasting too much time.”

 

*         *         *

Spencer walked into to courtyard just as a huge gust of wind sent the dust flying across the baked earth. A few people looked up as he moved away from the shack. There was hope in their eyes, like he might have somehow came up with an answer and it was like a knife in his guts that he had nothing.

All his life, others had made the choices for him. First his father, then his sister. Almost at once, he had fallen into Devon’s camp. Despite his contrary nature, he had great respect for the man. This time he was alone. Sure there were a few of them left, but no one knew what they should be doing.

He steeled himself. He had to fix this. Devon and Emily were counting on him.

Looked around, Spencer took in his remaining allies. Rollie sat with Devon’s shotgun propped up on his wheelchair arms. Wart still leaned against the shack smoking the stub of one of his recycled cigarettes. Kimberly was tending Ann who seemed way too shell-shocked for Spencer to even try to talk to yet.

It had been a battle to convince Doctor Alexander not to take her with them when the others fled, but Brown can be very convincing, especially when he is carrying his AK.

Mel and Flinch had also stayed true to the cause, along with the two new guys. Spencer couldn’t even remember their names. All he could think about was Devon and his sister. Are they okay? Is Devon figuring out a way to save us?

Before anyone had spoken a word, Brown exited the shed. “Well there’s no reason for us to linger around out here,” he said, mostly addressing the women. “The Walkers won’t be here for another day.”

Spencer was about to say something, but Ann spoke for the first time and even he wanted to stop to listen. “And why aren’t we leaving again? I say we feed that madman to the coyotes and be on our way. I hate to give him the satisfaction of knowing he took even one of us down.”

“What did he do to you?” Spencer asked, and as soon as he did, wished he hadn’t. The woman tensed and Brown shot him a very angry look.

“Spike, will you-” the cowboy started, but Ann interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. It’s not his fault he got in the way of that evil psychopath. If I had anything to tell you that I thought could help, I would, but… besides what you already know, I really don’t.  Haeds has no mystic powers. He’s just a sick fuck that’s somehow ignored by those undead.” She paused and eyed him. “As for anything else, I’d have to trust you first.”

Everyone stayed silent, but he felt the pressure to break it. “Fair enough. I almost wished he had some real power over them, maybe then he could tell them to walk off a cliff or something.”

Ann leaned down. She whispered something to Kimberly and then walked toward the main ranch house.

“Kim could you keep an eye on her, please.” Kim nodded and walked after the departing woman.

“Okay, now that they’re gone,” Spencer said quickly. “I think going into the house is the last thing we need to do. What we need to do it to figure out how we’re going to be stopping that damn army numb-nuts sent at us.”

“You have any brilliant ideas?” Wart asked from behind his goggles.

“No! Oh damn it.”

“Well, you guys figure out what we’re going to do,” Mel began. “We’re going to try to make sure we live the old fashion way.”

“What’s that?” James asked.

“Making bullets.”

“Is there a way we could help?” James asked.

Mel took of his cap for a moment and gazed through the dust at the building clouds. “Even with these clouds, it’ll be hot as hell in there, but yeah, we could keep you busy.”

“That would be great. Having some bullets might be the only edge we got.” Brown told them. Once they were gone, Brown looked over at him. “So what the Hell are we going do?”

“We need to be tricky. Try to think like Devon. What would he do?”

“Find some weird way to kill the zombies,” Rollie said slowly.

“Exactly, and that’s what we need to do. Bullets will be good, but we should figure out a way to axe those stiffs without wasting many of them.” Spencer looked up and smiled, “and let’s make that sick puke Haeds watch.”

 

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