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June 19.
Last night a gang of zombies chased me and John and Zoë
and Clyde out of the Stop-and-Shop while we were filling
our pockets with OTC drugs and candy. All of the P-scrip
was gone from the bins in the back. The glass was smashed
and some doctor zombie was stumbling around looking for
his last clue till he saw us near the broken pick-up window.
We made it outside but we got surrounded by a bunch of dead
guys. The ambulance we stole was on fire. No more painkillers
or oxygen. We were about to get bitten when some guy came
hauling ass up the road and wiped out the group on the left.
We climbed into his car and he took us to a field that smelt
like rotted corn. We started talking about the zombies and
the best way to kill them. He seemed cool. He didn't mind
giving us a ride. Zoë offered to suck his dick for the help.
She said he smelled like sex. God I wanted to get high.
He told us he had some morphine in the back seat. John was
getting stupid about this guy. Said he wasn't cool. I said
'what do you know, he got drugs and weed back here'. John
smoked a bowl of hash and passed out behind the car. Stupid
move John. I shot up with Zoë and got back in the car. I
haven't seen John since. I coulda swore I saw the new guy
get some rope and some tent stakes out of the back seat
and go back behind the car. I think he pitched a tent. I
think he fucked Zoë after that. Maybe I was just high, but
I heard thumping in the trunk. He shot a few zombies that
got too close. He took me back to the abandoned shelter
and said he would be back later with more drugs.
Mark closed his diary, stood up and stretched his arms.
He rubbed his forearm sores from where he shot-up the night
before with his friends and the strange man. Clyde made
a funny face at him and whispered about how stupid he was
for doing drugs. Mark flipped him off and walked to the
window. He saw a car driving up to the shelter that looked
like the one from last night. Clyde again whispered about
John and Zoë and expressed his worry about their whereabouts.
"Don't worry about them. They are in love, dude. Shit, you
ever love somebody?"
Clyde whispered a name, but Mark cut him off before he could
go on.
"Damn, I need some painkillers," Mark shouted and walked
out of the filthy janitor closet. He stepped over a heaped-up
pile of stinking clothes near the doorway and went to the
fire exit stairwell.
Clyde didn't follow Mark. Mark had hoped Clyde went back
to sleep so he couldn't fuck any more shit up with his mouthy
attitude. Mark knew Clyde was best handled with a shot of
tequila and few tranquilizers. He loved Clyde for his clear
head and quick-wit. His leadership saved Mark's ass more
times than Mark chose to remember. He had been with Mark
since that first night in the Hospital after Mark was beaten
and sent to the infirmary.
Mark stepped outside after checking the windows for any
zombies in the area. He met the car as it parked in the
alleyway. The man slid out the window because the alley
was too narrow to open a door in. Mark thought he was hallucinating
when he met the man's eye. He thought his face was turning
to stone and his eyes were on fire.
"Hey man, didn't think I'd see you again."
"I had a change of heart."
Mark fidgeted with his rings. He was scared of this man.
He wanted to know where his friends were, but he was afraid
he would be killed for asking. He looked up at a window
trying to figure out where Clyde was.
"What are you looking at, Mark?"
"Nothing.I thought I heard something."
"You look sick, kid. You need a fix?"
Mark wanted to refuse the free drugs. He didn't want to
be stoned near this guy, but he couldn't make himself say
no. He was nodding his head and gulping air as the man pulled
out a needle full.
Mark tapped his forearm, the right arm this time. He was
hunting for a vein to shoot. He never saw the needle hit
his neck. He just felt the burning fluid rush into his head
and send him spinning.
Clyde started screaming at Mark, but he couldn't understand
what Clyde was saying. Maybe Clyde was too far away? He
could only hear his own heartbeat slowing in his ears.
Mark fell asleep.
Clyde was the first thing he saw when he awoke. He focused
in on him from across the room. Mark felt like he was in
a familiar environment, but couldn't quite get a feel for
where he was. He shook his head and banged it against the
hard table he was tied to. It all came back to him. He was
having that same old nightmare from before. He was in the
treatment room in the hospital's basement. Clyde was standing
at the window. The door must have been locked. Clyde couldn't
get in the room and didn't move. He just looked at Mark
with pained eyes.
Mark lifted his head and scanned the room. His neck protested
the move of the head. He saw he was naked before his head
fell back to the table with a loud bang.
"Oh, you are awake. Good."
Mark didn't identify the voice coming from across the room.
It sounded muffled and distant. Mark felt a leather strap
slip across his forehead and tighten in a buckle. He heard
metal slapping the floor and wet moaning. He could smell
the decay. The voice dragged the stench of fresh death with
it when it walked up to Mark's bound body.
A face leaned into Mark's field of view. "Don't you know
me, Mark? Or am I talking to Clyde now? I can never tell
the difference between you pussies."
Mark recognized the voice and eyes. The cloth white surgical
mask completed the sinister package. He realized the man
from yesterday was this man, Dr. Faulk, without the mask.
He cursed himself for not putting the two faces together.
He must have been really craving drugs.
"Son, I'll make this simple. All I want is a confession
from you. I am looking for truth. Remember how we reward
truth here at Twin Branch Asylum?
Mark hesitated to speak. He feared Dr. Faulk and hated him
for the things he did to people. He thought back to days
when he would rat out his friends to get a doctor's prescription
for the painkillers Faulk got him hooked on.
"Mark, I'll make this simple, answer a question, and I give
you a hit. You lie.well, lets just say I won't be the one
to discipline you for it."
Mark heard the chains slap and scratch at the floor. He
heard the moaning noises again from across the room. There
were zombies in the room, probably chained to the wall.
Mark pissed on himself. The urine shot up out of his penis
and sprayed all over his chest and face. He could hear it
dripping off the table onto the cold concrete floor. He
heard zombies howl and tug at their restraints. The piss
must have hit them, throwing them into hunger frenzy. Their
teeth started to clack together.
"Well! Now you have done it, Mark. You 'pissed' them off.
I am not sure I can contain them much longer. How will I
concentrate to work, hmm?" Dr. Faulk held a small amputation
circular saw up in Mark's face as if he was introducing
a product to potential buyers. "Now I need to shut them
up."
The saw came to life. Mark screamed in pain, drowning out
the zombies. The little finger on his right hand was cut
off. Mark screamed hysterically as the doctor went to work
on the opposite finger on the left hand.
The Doctor dipped Mark's pinkies in the blood flow, thoroughly
saturating them like fries in ketchup. As with the saw,
he held the fingers in Mark's view, allowing the blood to
drip and pool on his forehead, eventually slipping down
to his temples.
Mark felt the blood seep through the adjustment holes punched
in the belt. He bit back any further screams and tried coping
with the pain. His pinkies were gone. He hoped the pain
would go away and wondered why his nerves were so sensitive.
"It's a special drug we use here at the hospital with a
small mix of amyl nitrate thrown in to relax the muscles.
Trust me, you are going to feel every bit of pain I give
you, Mark. I tried this stuff last night before I fucked
your friend, Zoë. What a goddamn orgasm!"
The Doctor turned Mark's head over to the side at a darkened
corner. Mark saw a pair of zombies shrouded in the dark
clawing at their necks. He saw a flash of metal leashes
with chains keeping them attached to the wall.
"Time to feed, kiddies," the Doctor said as he tossed the
bloody fingers at the pair of dead bodies. The fingers landed
at the feet of the zombies; immediately inciting a barbaric
fight for flesh.
Mark thought he heard the doctor laugh with delight over
the sound of crunching bone and wet chewing. His head was
tipped back to its previous position. Mark was relieved.
"I know things about you, Mark. I know about your imaginary
friend, Clyde. He isn't real, you know. You made him up
to cope with the abandonment of being placed here against
your will. I know you are afraid of many things, Mark. I
know what you fear. I am just going to ask you a few questions
about your time here. There were only a few survivors at
this hospital, Mark. You, me, Zoë, John."
Mark cut him off, "and Clyde," he attempted to shout it
out in defense of his friend, but could only murmur. He
figured Clyde would pick up a chair and try breaking through
the glass to save him like he always had in the past.
The Doctor slapped Mark's face with a rubber strap. "Clyde
isn't real you fucking nut. I'm talking about someone a
little bit more physical. I'm talking about your girlfriend,
Gina."
Mark's face flushed. He forgot about the pain in his hands
and face. He thought back to Gina and their plans of escape.
They started pretending to swallow their drugs and continued
to act like crazed idiots long after they had shaken the
side effects of withdrawal from the narcotics. Freedom was
more important. Mark remembered Clyde going away after being
free from the drugs. He was clear-headed and strong. Then
the night of their escape came. An orderly caught them in
the act and sounded the alarm. Gina was held down, tranquilized
and stripped of her clothes. Mark took his needle with a
fight. He was knocked unconscious before the orderlies started
to rape Gina.
"I have seen her, Mark. I would really like to know what
your intentions were with her, Mark. Did you plan to get
married? Were you going to have children? Did you ever get
the chance to fuck her?"
The Doctor slipped the surgical mask off his mouth, revealing
Michael's chiseled sinister features. He grinned at Mark
as if meeting him for the first time. He shifted his eyes
over Mark's face as if hunting for a sign of recognition.
Mark swallowed a ball of bile that lurched up his throat.
He was overwhelmed with the idea his love was alive. He
told Michael how he saw her fall from the window and into
the arms of some zombie cop. He saw her arm snap back. She
just lay there as the zombies approached. He ran for his
life in tears.
"Well, I'll have you know Gina is alive and well, Mark.
She and I have been together for some time now. I got to
fuck her last night against my car. Too bad you won't be
able to do that. She doesn't love you anymore because you
left her behind."
Mark couldn't bear it. He knew he was about to die a horrible
death. The zombies were howling for his blood with undead
zeal.
The saw came back to life, spraying tiny spots blood from
its blade onto Mark's pale body. The saw screamed in a steady
hiss. Michael gently cupped Mark's genitals in his hand.
"You won't be needing this anymore, Mark."
Mark screamed again. The blade chopped and ripped unsteadily
through his penis and scrotum. His pelvis felt wet and hot
as the blood spurted forth. When the saw died again, he
heard a wet slapping sound on the concrete. He knew the
zombies were devouring his genitals.
Mark tried to keep his vision from tunneling. He was bleeding
to death.
The zombies made short work of Mark's severed member. His
head was tipped again toward the zombies.
Michael crossed the room to the zombies, who completely
ignored him as he walked behind them to the metal retaining
pin keeping them pinned to the hospital wall.
As the pin gave with a metallic grind, the zombie duo lurched
forward into the light, revealing the gray-blue faces of
John and Zoë. Both had suffered serious injuries prior to
death. John's entire midsection dragged behind him in a
string of mucus. His wrists wore the remnants of last night's
binding ropes and stakes. Michael had drugged him before
tying him to the ground for the undead to feast upon. Zoë
died of an apparent gunshot wound to the side and bled to
death. Her naked body shimmered with Mark's fresh blood
and semen from his scrotum.
Mark looked across the room.through John's missing midsection
and looked upon his only friend in the world.the only person
unscathed by this nightmare. He looked into Clyde's eyes
and winced with the tearing of teeth on his chest and thigh.
Clyde faded.
***********************************
Gina duct taped her sleeping bag to the top of her backpack.
She couldn't find the coil of rope Michael brought in with
him the day before, so she made do with what she had. She
had searched everywhere for it, but it was gone. She knew
her escape had to be perfectly planned and go down like
clockwork. She had to convince herself that killing Michael
was her only option now. He was a threat to her survival.
She opened a corner cabinet near the oven hood. She was
looking for matches and some fuel to build a campfire. She
paused and looked around the kitchen and dining nook. Despite
its janitorial look, the basement was very functional and
stocked with supplies. Too many supplies for her to carry
even without a broken arm. The church was nestled in a wooded
region far enough away from a small town to go unnoticed
by most ravaging gangs. The road was damaged and treacherous
for most compact cars. There was a generator and an oil-burning
radiator under the stairs. The windows were too high for
any zombie to reach. You could kill an entire gang of scavengers
before they knew the bullets were coming from the bell tower.
The bell tower.
.Don't make too much racket to attract the dead
Gina snatched her pistol and bullets from the table and
ran for the stairs.
***********************************
Michael felt like he was the ringleader in a circus freak
show. He pounded on the steering wheel, drumming out the
beat to a song he was composing in his head. The horn groaned
with every slap on the wheel. The strained horn blasts startled
Michael's trio of undead hood ornament trophies with every
bleat. Michael giggled at the zombie's stupidity and short-term
memory. Michael trussed them down like deer with their heads
facing the dusty street. John's right arm had broken free
of the rope and was flailing about worthlessly. Mark's body
was drained of blood and was just starting to show stiff
signs of undead life. Zoë was in a daze staring at the rushing
earth below her, wincing only when the horn sounded.
Michael grimaced briefly at the initial sight of Mark's
penis sticking out of John's missing midsection, but collected
himself and giggled some more. He floored the accelerator
in anticipation of seeing Gina again. He rubbed his crotch
and shivered.
The dead horde didn't move. They stood in silent reverence
and awe. Aside from the ghouls with broken necks, the dead
swarm cocked their heads to the heavens and were mesmerized
with the ringing of the large church bell.
Gina white knuckled the bell rope with her left hand and
had wrapped the slack around her cast. She rang the bell
with full weight of her body. The momentum had lifted her
completely off the creaky floorboards. Now raising and dropping
at a pendulum pace, she held her breath and hoped the cast
wouldn't break. Her arm throbbed against the tension of
the wrapped rope against the semi-hard paper. Her eardrums
were blazing from the loud bell ringing above her head.
She shot her gaze across the fields and road. Countless
stiff and misshapen shadows approached from all directions.
She knew she was safe up here in the church steeple. Even
if the dead could tear the wooden doors away from their
hinges, it would take a fire or chainsaw to get through
the barricade she constructed at the entrance. She had only
to worry about Michael and his unknown rage.
Gina let go of the rope and dropped to the floor. The bell
continued to ring for several seconds, masking the shuffling
and stomping as she crawled to a crack in wooden belfry
panel to watch for signs of the Chrysler. She held her breath
for a long moment and felt a lump grow in her throat. Her
pulse quickened and her forehead was moist with sweat. The
earth below her was a choppy sea of movement. The rotting
dead swarmed the church like maggots on a dead rat. The
lot below stunk of an abattoir. the stench wafted to her
high perch, stinging her sinuses. Gina doubted any of the
dead could detect her scent from above.
A distant low humming sound was added to the cacophony of
moans. Gina spotted Michael's old car approaching. Her blood
thickened and her mouth went dry. She began to panic despite
her obvious superior position. She dropped flat and hoped
the bells wouldn't continue to ring.
Michael was furious at the size of the crowd surrounding
the church. The church windows were unbroken and the doors
looked sturdy. He couldn't understand what would draw such
a large number to the church.
Michael craned his neck out the window as he entered the
driveway. He slowed down near a half-devoured waitress in
a bloodstained uniform. Michael read her black nametag and
whistled at the ghoul. "Excuse me, Doris," he said in a
faux southern drawl, "church ain't till Sunday! Can I get
some grits and toast?"
The undead Doris swung her bloody stumps at his face and
growled. Michael giggled and clumsily dodged her advance
on him. He pulled his head back inside and drove over a
group of three undead children.
White froth spewed from the mouths of the fresher dead as
they snapped their heads around to view the newcomer. They
stretched their wraithlike arms and shambled toward the
Chrysler as it slowed to a stop. The crowd surged against
the old car. Michael gunned the engine forward and crushed
an advancing group of zombies under the weight of the large
automobile. He laughed and reversed gears - rolling back
over the crippled and splintered bodies, adding a few more
ghouls to his body count.
Gina summoned her courage and commanded herself to look
down to see what Michael was doing. He was truly sick. He
tied a trio of zombies to the hood of his car. Whatever
he was up to, he was planning on sharing it with her when
he returned. She couldn't think of any other reason why
he would tie zombies to the car. He was cutting a swath
in the horde without lifting a finger. She cocked her head
at the spectacle. Was that a penis sticking out from the
midsection of one of the zombies? She couldn't take her
eyes of the group of dead as Michael drove forward and back
over the others. A small spark of recognition was rising
in her mind.
Mark.
Michael partially rolled his window down. He slid his pistol
out and shot a nearby ghoul near the car door. He killed
the engine and stepped out. He looked straight up at the
bell tower. He suddenly realized what was going on.
"Gina, I didn't think you would get this lonely! I hope
you made enough dinner for all of us!" Michael spun and
kicked the head off a rotten zombie trapped under his tire.
The head struck another in the chest, knocking it to the
ground.
Michael's lips thinned in contemplation over this unexpected
situation. There were over a hundred zombies shambling toward
him. He climbed onto the roof of the car, hoping to escape
the reach of the horde. He divided his gaze between the
belfry and the undead.
"Well, here we are again! What have I done to you, Gina?
Why did you do this to us? I fixed your arm, made you breakfast.
Hell, if it weren't for me, you probably would have died
from gangrene or went crazy by now."
Michael took a minute to kick away the zombies like he was
a rock star on stage. For the first time in his life, he
started to panic.
"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING CUNT! IF YOU DON'T LET ME INSIDE,
I'LL HAVE TO FIGHT MY WAY IN THE HARD WAY. IF I MAKE IT
IN THERE BY MYSELF, YOU'LL WISH FOR THE DAYS OF BEING GANG
RAPED BY ORDERLIES BACK AT THE ASYLUM."
Michael's adrenaline-fueled courage surged. He slid down
the windshield and stepped over to Gina's dead friends.
He cut Zoë loose and dropped her to the ground. He sat on
Mark's back, leaned over and reached into John's gut. He
removed Mark's penis from the bloody gaping hole. He slapped
the penis against Mark's back and then stood up with the
mangled member. He waved it around and showed it to the
undead. He pitched it behind the fray. The current shifted
when the bulk of the horde rushed for the flesh.
Michael's front left tire exploded. He jumped back in shock
and nearly fell into the arms of dead Doris. He shot his
gaze up at the bell tower and locked eyes with Gina.
"Don't move, you fucker."
Mark's undead blood-drained eyes lifted in dazed recognition
of the voice. He absently stared at Gina. His shrunken mouth
opened, revealing yellow teeth and blackened gums. He moaned
softly at his love. Gina wept at the sight of him. Enraged,
she glared back at Michael, bringing her pistol to bear.
"Gina, please." Michael begged.
Gina's pistol thundered. The bullet ripped through Michael's
thigh, dropping him off the far side of the Cordoba.
The earth seemed to rush up to meet Michael, striking him
in the back and knocking the wind from his lungs.
The undead shambled towards the car. Gina couldn't see Michael's
face anymore. She frantically redirected her gaze back to
Mark. She took aim at his face and paused. Despite death,
she still found him beautiful. Her eyes welled in stinging
tears. She cocked her pistol and prepared to put her love
out of his misery.
Michael returned fire from his prone position, despite the
lack of oxygen attributing to his poor aim. The bullet grazed
Gina's broken arm, sending a hot shock of searing pain through
her body. The pistol dropped from her grip before she could
react, bouncing off the belfry ledge, skittered down the
sloped rooftop, and clattered into the attached aluminum
gutter. Gina swiped at the gun when it sprang from her grip
in the vain attempt at catching it. Forward momentum dragged
her slight frame over the waist-high plywood wall. She fell
hard onto the peak of the church roof, and rolled down the
slippery shingles to the edge.
Remarkably, her cast caught a rusty bolt, allowing her a
moment to grip the thin metal retainers that attached the
gutter to the roof. Her shins followed through with the
rest of her momentum, smacking violently against the whitewashed
cinderblock church below the eaves. Another flood of pain
charged up her spine, setting off panic alarms in her brain.
She bit back the urge to cry and attract attention. She
feared a zombie audience beneath her would only encourage
her to just let go and get it all over with.
Michael fought a group of undead away from his crumpled
form as he stood up to admire Gina's precarious new position.
He regained his breath before limping back onto the car.
Mark stiffly protested his presence. John flailed his free
arm at Michael and clacked his teeth. Blood dripped from
Michael's thigh onto John's wrist, causing John to moan
and bite on on the appendage with passionate zeal.
Gina desperately gripped the support rod and tried not to
kick her legs. She was at least thirty feet from the earth,
and her view was limited. She could hear the undead below,
and she knew Michael was enjoying what he saw. She felt
the skin in her hand peel and bleed. If she dropped, she
would probably survive the impact with broken legs, but
she would be an easy picking for the dead. She was certain
Michael would be able to defeat the zombies. She was torn
between what fate would be worse.eaten alive by zombies,
or incapacitated in the care of a twisted and enraged Michael.
She would be tortured, taunted and probably raped. How did
he know about the orderlies at the hospital? Why did he
go out to find Mark and the others? The coincidence was
too unlikely.
He was laughing.
She suddenly realized who Michael was. Her mind flooded
her veins with adrenaline. The pain waned as her strength
returned with a rush. She slammed her cast into the gutter,
bending both slightly. She shot her left arm over to a nearby
drainpipe. Shifting her center of gravity, she pulled herself
over to the pipe, which immediately bent under her weight.
Michael busied himself pushing the dead away from the car
with the heels of his feet, indiscriminately crushing the
skulls of the taller ones who were close enough to kill.
He caught of brief glimpse of Gina, but couldn't understand
what she was doing. He was convinced she was about to die.
He figured he could drag her broken body up to the car and
get that fuck he was craving just before she lost her body
heat and reanimated.
The pipe creaked under her frame, pulling the attached gutter
away from the roof with it. Gina could see the horde below
her. Her actions were raising hell on the ground. Nearly
every zombie watched her and waited like obedient dogs.
She winced at the heavy scrape of metal-on-metal. Her gamble
paid off. The pistol slid into the hand of her wedged broken
arm. She continued the slow and deliberate decent to the
ground. She braced for impact, hoping the momentum wouldn't
stun her the same as it had done to Michael, trapping her
under the weight of the pipe and gutter. She unfurled her
legs from around the pipe and prepared to ground them on
impact. She swung them sharply in hopes of deflecting any
rotting mouths or hands.
The dead didn't move while she descended in a slow arc from
the building. The bulk of the group stood stupefied and
transfixed on her near the church wall. They stiffly shifted
their gaze to watch her fall. A few zombies were beating
their broken fists and bloody stumps on the church doors,
ignorant to what was transpiring above their heads.
She hit the ground softer than expected, with time enough
to move away from the gutter before it crashed to the ground,
snapping the zombies out of their hunger trance. They sluggishly
converged on their new target. Her landing even attracted
the attention of the group surrounding the Cordoba. Michael
looked exhausted, barely keeping a grip on his pistol. His
pant leg was soaked with his blood. Again, he met her gaze.
Gina leveled her pistol at the zombies and fired, clearing
a path to the car. She dashed to the passenger door, and
tried the door handle despite seeing the lock button engaged.
She had given up the edge and tactical advantage she had
over Michael. She was so transfixed on the door; she completely
ignored Michael towering above her.
Michael delivered a bone-cracking blow to Gina's face with
his injured thigh. Blood exploded from her nostrils and
trailed her body as she sailed backward, collapsing by the
rear tire. Michael triumphantly dropped from the car and
stood straddled over Gina. He threw his left elbow back,
smashing the face of an advancing ghoul before plugging
it with a bullet. He looked down at Gina, and felt the arousal
surge against his chest and pants.
As if she sensed his libido intensify, Gina raised a foot
into Michael's crotch. He toppled forward, smashing his
chin on the pavement. Three teeth bit through his upper
lip. Michael blindly reached back and snatched a heap of
Gina's hair and pulled himself up, painfully dragging her
with him. He stumbled back against the car and heaved his
frame to the trunk away from the approaching dead with Gina
in tow. After steadying himself, he pulled the lip away
from the teeth and wiped the blood off his mouth. He smeared
it across Gina's lips with a shaky caress.
Gina's eyes were swelling. She was starting to black out
from her broken nose. She pushed away from Michael with
force, ripping a patch of hair out of her head. Michael
stared in shock the hair in his hand as he fell behind the
car. Gina fired at him as he dropped, but missed and struck
the trunk instead.
Michael's hand scratched at the trunk in the vain effort
of stopping himself. The trunk sprang open, unleashing the
blonde pair of women he imprisoned, now undead and free
of their bonds. The women heaved their torsos with distressed
and eager grunts, descending onto their captor.
Gina stumbled in shock to get a better view. Her brain was
attempting to process what had just happened in a matter
of split seconds. She gazed with mixed emotions of horror
and pleasure at the grotesque return of poetic justice.
The naked undead women tore at Michael's clothes like groupies.
Snarling mouths ripped into his tanned chest and pelvis.
Michael fixed his gaze on Gina one last time. He didn't
have the breath to make a sound, but he mouthed a "thank
you" to her and actually winked before he was overwhelmed
with the pain of the two women feasting on him. His face
contorted into a twisted grimace of ecstasy when his throat
was ripped out and his body finally quit jerking.
Gina smirked and delivered a bullet to Michael's forehead.
The shot startled the zombie duo. She shot them before they
could focus their attention on her. She collected Michael's
pistol and car keys and faced the closest zombies.
After cutting cut John and Mark free from the car hood,
she allowed herself to cry when she shot them. She climbed
into the driver's seat and revived the engine. Her face
was awash in hot tears and blood. She drove away slowly,
drawing the horde from the church as she went, leaving her
pain behind.
***********************************
Epilogue:
After darkness came, Gina rechecked the door's
security and walked through the church's upper level. She
stopped to check her handiwork at boarding the window she
broke to get back in. She took the back stairs to the basement.
She strode into the kitchen and dropped her pistol on the
countertop. She poured a cup of sugar-free punch and smiled.
After a quick sip, she made a mental note to take a shower
and find some bullets.
-- END --
This story revised for clarity from the original posted
on Homepage
of the Dead. You can e-mail Ken Gentner at .
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and is reprinted with permission. All Things Zombie owns none
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