Zombie362, on 06 November 2011 - 04:36 AM, said:
Mr. Rice, on 27 October 2011 - 09:23 AM, said:
I'd like to thank everyone who has gotten a copy of my novella
Fleshbags. It's doing very well with reviews and it is truly something different in the zombie genre.
Even before the explosion in the industrial area on the south side of the city they started showing up. There was something wrong with them. Anybody could see it. They leaked from every orifice and their stomachs were translucent bags showing rotting internal organs. But the ones the police had shot and killed were worse. Aggressive, fast, cannibalistic. The people still trapped in the south side of the city will fight, run, hide, and many will die. Can a young father get to his daughter? Can a husband and wife save a neighbor? Can a nurse make it home? Can an ex-con get out of the city? Can a cop keep control?
Includes the short story "The Dead Child".
Any chance we could get a sample?
Certainly.
Sentinel needed to get out of this town. He’d gotten roped in by his sister to come see their mother and like a dummy he’d let them guilt him into staying. Moms had been dying—dead now—and one look from her and he knew he was stuck. She’d lasted seven months, but once he was free it wasn’t easy to escape.
He’d had to give up his job in California and was barely able to make ends meet with the piece of job he’d gotten at Walt’s Electronics. Sent had quickly grown to hate Walt almost as much as his mother.
He flushed the toilet and went to flush his hands, examining his face in the mirror. His eyes were two lumps of charcoal in a dark bronze face. The slash through his eyebrow was the only distinguishing mark in an otherwise forgettable face. A couple new grays in his goatee, but he could feel the bags under his eyes shrinking by the second. He’d gotten another job in California and as soon as his ride was ready he’d hit the road.
This time he wouldn’t be back. Even if all of them were dying.
Sent preferred not to think of the years of abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his mother (and his part-time, heroine-addict father when he decided to hang around) and chose not to now. He supposed as a direct result of his own childhood was why he hadn’t elected to have children of his own in his twenty-eight years. California was the cure for what ailed him.
He grabbed a couple paper towels and wiped and patted until his hands were mostly dry. He stepped out of the restroom and went up front.
The old guy behind the computer was gone. Hopefully, he was checking with the mechanics to see how much longer it would take. Sent took a seat in the waiting area in front of one of the computer terminals. Maybe he’d check his email again or something to kill some time.
When Internet Explorer came up blank for the third time he stood and started roaming around. The door leading to where the mechanics were was to his left and he walked over to take a peek through the little window.
“What the—”
He stared at several bodies all across the shop floor. One of them had been pinned beneath a car still on the hydraulic lift and it looked like the woman just a few feet away from the door had been hollowed out with a giant ice cream scoop. The old man was face down against a big toolbox on the wall.
Sent whipped out his cell and dialed 9-1-1. The phone gave a weird beeping sound and disconnected. He looked at it and in place of signal bars was the red circle with a diagonal slash. He was outtie. Somebody cruised through with a machete or something and he wasn’t waiting around to shake his hand.
Before he could get to the front door he heard a loud bump coming from that direction. Sent froze. Could whoever it was be back to mop up?
The only two ways out that he’d seen were the front door and the bay doors to the shop. He turned around and quickly headed back.
The door creaked open and he stepped through. It smelled awful in here. Like medicine and… and… he didn’t know what. Sent gently closed the door, looking all around for would-be attackers. There was a row of buttons by the bay doors that must have raised and closed them. He tiptoed over, but thought twice before pushing any of them.
What if they were waiting outside?
He needed something to defend himself.
There was a giant wrench propped up on the wall next to the body of the woman who’d been eviscerated. She had a huge gash along the side of her head, but instead of blood there was only clear stuff going down her neck, matting down her hair on the side. Sent stalked over and grabbed it with both hands.
And she grabbed his wrist.
Sent leapt back with a high-pitched girlscream, the wrench plunking to the floor. She opened her eyes and looked at him, putting her hands beneath herself to stand. He realized now would have been the perfect time to have that wrench.
She came toward him and he backed up.
“Listen, lady, let me call 9-1-1 for you. You need to just sit down, okay?”
She didn’t. In fact, she held out her arms, reaching for him. Sent saw a table of tools out of the corner of his eye and reached over and grabbed something. The pouch-like thing in his hand read ‘air wedge’. He threw it at her and it flopped harmlessly against her head.
The woman bared her grayish teeth and water-thin drool poured out. Sentinel almost tripped over a bar of some kind. He got his feet under him and scooped up the bar.
“Look, ma’am. Ma’am! I don’t wanna do this. Please don’t make me do this!” But she didn’t stop. He took a swing at her arm and she almost ripped the bar out of his hands. “Ma’am, I’m for real this time. Don’t make me do it!”
He realized she was about to call his bluff. Sent half-heartedly swung and clanged the bar off the side of her head. She canted to the side, but turned to him and started coming on again. She was wearing a button up sweater. Probably somebody’s mom. This wasn’t right.
“Ma’am,” Sent said, figuratively and literally backed up against a wall. He squared up like he was waiting on a pitch and when she was in the right spot turned his hips into the swing, the tip of the bar clanging off her jaw. Her head almost spun completely around and she hit the floor.
Sent stood over her a moment, waiting for her to move again, praying she didn’t. When he realized she was down for good he let the bar slip from his hands, clanging onto the floor. He made fists to keep his hands from shaking, but realized it was his whole body quivering.
It had been in her eyes. Despite her standing up and coming at him, despite the teeth, despite the big ass hole where her guts should have been he could tell she hadn’t wanted to do what she was doing. She’d been afraid, confused, lost. The word ‘horrified’ came to mind and just as he realized he’d never seen that particular look on anyone’s face before, he was certain that was exactly what the host of emotions in her eyes melded into. And Sentinel had had to put her down.
If he could avoid it, he wouldn’t do it again. Maybe she was a lone crazy. He looked at the bar next to her body. Better to not need it. Sent picked it up once his hands had steadied. And spotted someone standing ten feet away out of the corner of his eye.
He jumped and brought the bar up in front of him, looking at a man in navy overalls. His nametag read ‘Brad’. That same clear fluid ran down his chin like he had a mouth full of it, but it streamed from his nose and the corners of his eyes. He was tall and sinewy, but looked like he had a beer gut.
He was just standing there with a look on his face like he just woke up. Sent didn’t want to do it. But he couldn’t risk trying to get outside and another one waiting for him. He hefted the bar and caught movement from the corner of his eye.
The old man from behind the counter was getting up. Another guy in blue overalls was standing next to him. His nametag read ‘Chad’. The clear fluid poured from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. Chad was heavy, but he looked like he was eight months pregnant.
Brad was still just looking at him. The old man (who had a little pooch he hadn’t had before) looked confused as well. But Chad had that look in his eyes. The same as the woman on the floor had. He started forward.
Sentinel backed away. Maybe he could beat the three of them with this wrench, maybe he couldn’t. The fact something had happened in here and then weirdo potbelly people (and one belly-less woman) who oozed out of every hole were suddenly walking around meant there was a lot more going on than he cared to find out about.
He ran for the bay doors.
Chad followed him around a hydraulic lift and Brad followed. Sent leapt over the rising body of another man in blue coveralls and hit a button between the doors. They started to lift, but he could tell if it wasn’t going to be fast enough. Sentinel kicked the man down who was trying to stand, grabbed a rolling toolbox, and shoved it into Chad. There was a thick popping sound and a second later it was like a faucet turned on in his pants. Chad looked stunned and Sentinel rammed him with the toolbox again, knocking him over.
He thought about doing the same to Brad, but the door was high enough to slip under. He kicked the one on the floor down again and dived for the rising door. Two naked middle-aged people were at the front door. They turned his way and raised their arms in unison. Their stomachs were gone, but the woman had a loop of black entrail still twined up to something inside her and dragging on the ground between her legs.
Sentinel ran the other way.
Fleshbags
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