Zombies!

Another excerpt from a zombie story I wrote…cus it’s Halloween!!!

Just as it seemed I was going to have to back down the Captain’s radio rang, “Captain, there are some civilians walking toward the gate, what should I do?”
Captain Peck paused but grabbed his radio as if to answer but the words froze in his throat, his mouth open. I watched him intently, still resting on the side of my truck.
“Sir? What are your orders? Do I stop them from getting in?”
He pushed the talk button on the radio, “Are they hostile? Are they armed? What is their disposition?”
“They don’t appear to be armed, and they are on foot. But they have not responded to any command I have given them.”
“Detain them and question them, then report back to me and I’ll decide what to do with them.”
“Yes sir.”
He put his radio back on his hip and stared back to me, “Friends of yours perhaps?”
“Not likely,” I responded.
“No matter, I told you to leave and take all these people with you,” he gestured to the large group standing on the opposite side of the road from us. Just then however, a few gun shots rang out. They were from the direction of his front gate. To his credit Captain Peck didn’t waste any time, but hurried to the gate, drawing his pistol, his soldiers chased after him rifles in hand. I also reached for a pistol from the bed of my truck, tucked it into the back of my belt and jogged after him and his company. I don’t run.
Before I could see what was going on I heard Peck yelling commands, “Stand down! Get off him! I’ll shoot! Now!” Then a couple shots fired from his pistol into a figure crouched over one of his gate guards.
I managed to reach the scene in time to see him shoot at another being sprawled across his other guard. There were two others stumbling toward the gate. Captain Peck cursed, “Stop where you are!” he commanded to the others, “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.” One of his men checked each of the downed gate guards who were wailing in agony, blood covering their upper bodies. They’d been bitten. The rest of his men stood behind the captain rifles pointed at the other two. I just stood back and watched. I could have intervened, but the Captain had to understand. He had to see for himself.
Of course the two continued to approach growling lowly and death in their eyes. Their movements were mechanic and uncoordinated. Their heads were misshapen and swollen, much larger than a normal human. Their faces too were distorted like there were large tumors growing around their eyes and ears. It gave the appearance that their face had been smashed and then reformed like it was made of clay. “This is your last warning,” the Captain shouted, “ready…fire.” The guardsmen opened fire, each letting loose with about three rounds, center mass, just as they were trained. The oncoming zombies dropped. I still waited. Everyone was visibly shaken. Captain Peck lowered his pistol and rushed over to the nearest injured soldier. Everyone else was looking around with wide eyes and mouths open.
Peck was yelling, “Ryan! What happened? Ryan?” The soldier did not respond. He had a glassy look to his eyes and his mouth was foaming a bit. The blood slowed however and it looked as though he would survive. I knew better. He shook the soldier but the downed zombie grabbed Peck’s arm and sunk his teeth into it. The captain shrieked and fired two more rounds into the beast’s chest, dropping him to the ground again.
Peck staggered to his feet, dropped his pistol and grabbed his arm. “What the hell is going on?” he pleaded his voice cracking and his face contorted. He grunted and groaned as he gripped the wound. One of his soldiers snapped from the trance they all seemed to suffer from. He ran to his commander, slung his weapon, pulled a pressure dressing from a pouch on his harness and began wrapping the bite.
I could see that none of the beasts were finished yet. Each wriggled and writhed and were still capable of biting another victim. In this moment I moved forward and drew my pistol. The guardsmen raised their rifles to me now, and the Captain jumped back shouting at me to lower my weapon. I ignored the danger, aimed in straight at the forehead of the nearest ghoul and fired one round through his head. He dropped and laid still. The others were climbing to their feet in spite of the bullets that filled their bodies.
“You have to put one through the brain,” I calmly explained and squeezed off another round at the next closest. He too dropped and was done. The other two were now to their feet. The guardsmen had put dozens of bullets into their chests, and yet they pushed on singly focused on sinking their teeth into another victim. I turned to them and taking my pistol in both hands, aimed and fired a round at each of them; right through the skull. They collapsed.
I turned back to the group, stared right at the Captain and said, “That’s your enemy. At least now you know.” I started walking past them toward the terminal again. Everyone stepped aside as I approached. I saw my wife and kids standing by and reached out my hand for them. Jr. took it and I lead them back toward the truck.

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Zombies!

With Halloween coming, here’s some more of my more monster rich writing…zombies

The doors slid open as I reached them and I took stock of what I was up against. There were several people in an elevator trying to get out of the hospital, but they were blocked by over a dozen zombies. Someone in the elevator had a pistol and was shooting the zombies, but of course they didn’t know you have to shoot them in the head to kill the virus, so they were not very efficient at it.

I arrived in just the nick of time. There were a couple zombies keeping the elevator from closing and therefore the people inside, had nowhere to go. I moved quickly. They didn’t notice me until I got near enough for them to smell me. Two turned around only to catch a blast from my shotgun in the face. A few more caught some pellets and spun around in time to have another blow end their miserable existence. A few more rounds and the bulk of them had dropped to the ground. The shrills and screams from the elevator had increased, but the poor people inside didn’t know the king had arrived.

The two zombies in the door to the elevator were injured from my assault. They laid on the ground squirming and growling—their bodies broken, but brains intact. I slowly moved the shotgun to my left arm, pulled the cop’s pistol out of its holster with my right and fired a round into each of their skulls.

I sighed, pleased at the carnage around me. I was in such a state of Zen that I almost forgot about the people in the elevator. They said not a word, only stared at me in disbelief and fear.

Back to reality, I took charge, “Get up, we need to get out of here. It is going to get worse.”

Another Zombie Excerpt

The doors slid open as I reached them and I took stock of what I was up against. There were several people in an elevator trying to get out of the hospital, but they were blocked by over a dozen zombies. Someone in the elevator had a pistol and was shooting the zombies, but of course they didn’t know you have to shoot them in the head to kill the virus, so they were not very efficient at it.
I arrived in just the nick of time. There were a couple zombies keeping the elevator from closing and therefore the people inside, had nowhere to go. I moved quickly. They didn’t notice me until I got near enough for them to smell me. Two turned around only to catch a blast from my shotgun in the face. A few more caught some pellets and spun around in time to have another blow end their miserable existence. A few more rounds and the bulk of them had dropped to the ground. The shrills and screams from the elevator had increased, but the poor people inside didn’t know the king had arrived.
The two zombies in the door to the elevator were injured from my assault. They laid on the ground squirming and growling—their bodies broken, but brains intact. I slowly moved the shotgun to my left arm, pulled the cop’s pistol out of its holster with my right and fired a round into each of their skulls.
I sighed, pleased at the carnage around me. I was in such a state of Zen that I almost forgot about the people in the elevator. They said not a word, only stared at me in disbelief and fear.
Back to reality, I took charge, “Get up, we need to get out of here. It is going to get worse.”

Zombie Story

For Halloween, here’s a few lines from a zombie story I never finished editing. Hopefully I can work on this project soon.

Just as it seemed I was going to have to back down the Captain’s radio rang, “Captain, there are some civilians walking toward the gate, what should I do?”
Captain Peck paused but grabbed his radio as if to answer but the words froze in his throat, his mouth open. I watched him intently, still resting on the side of my truck.
“Sir? What are your orders? Do I stop them from getting in?”
He pushed the talk button on the radio, “Are they hostile? Are they armed? What is their disposition?”
“They don’t appear to be armed, and they are on foot. But they have not responded to any command I have given them.”
“Detain them and question them, then report back to me and I’ll decide what to do with them.”
“Yes sir.”
He put his radio back on his hip and stared back to me, “Friends of yours perhaps?”
“Not likely,” I responded.
“No matter, I told you to leave and take all these people with you,” he gestured to the large group standing on the opposite side of the road from us. Just then however, a few gun shots rang out. They were from the direction of his front gate. To his credit Captain Peck didn’t waste any time, but hurried to the gate, drawing his pistol, his soldiers chased after him rifles in hand. I also reached for a pistol from the bed of my truck, tucked it into the back of my belt and jogged after him and his company. I don’t run.
Before I could see what was going on I heard Peck yelling commands, “Stand down! Get off him! I’ll shoot! Now!” Then a couple shots fired from his pistol into a figure crouched over one of his gate guards.
I managed to reach the scene in time to see him shoot at another being sprawled across his other guard. There were two others stumbling toward the gate. Captain Peck cursed, “Stop where you are!” he commanded to the others, “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.” One of his men checked each of the downed gate guards who were wailing in agony, blood covering their upper bodies. They’d been bitten. The rest of his men stood behind the captain rifles pointed at the other two. I just stood back and watched. I could have intervened, but the Captain had to understand. He had to see for himself.
Of course the two continued to approach growling lowly and death in their eyes. Their movements were mechanic and uncoordinated. Their heads were misshapen and swollen, much larger than a normal human. Their faces too were distorted like there were large tumors growing around their eyes and ears. It gave the appearance that their face had been smashed and then reformed like it was made of clay. “This is your last warning,” the Captain shouted, “ready…fire.” The guardsmen opened fire, each letting loose with about three rounds, center mass, just as they were trained. The oncoming zombies dropped. I still waited. Everyone was visibly shaken. Captain Peck lowered his pistol and rushed over to the nearest injured soldier. Everyone else was looking around with wide eyes and mouths open.
Peck was yelling, “Ryan! What happened? Ryan?” The soldier did not respond. He had a glassy look to his eyes and his mouth was foaming a bit. The blood slowed however and it looked as though he would survive. I knew better. He shook the soldier but the downed zombie grabbed Peck’s arm and sunk his teeth into it. The captain shrieked and fired two more rounds into the beast’s chest, dropping him to the ground again.
Peck staggered to his feet, dropped his pistol and grabbed his arm. “What the hell is going on?” he pleaded his voice cracking and his face contorted. He grunted and groaned as he gripped the wound. One of his soldiers snapped from the trance they all seemed to suffer from. He ran to his commander, slung his weapon, pulled a pressure dressing from a pouch on his harness and began wrapping the bite.
I could see that none of the beasts were finished yet. Each wriggled and writhed and were still capable of biting another victim. In this moment I moved forward and drew my pistol. The guardsmen raised their rifles to me now, and the Captain jumped back shouting at me to lower my weapon. I ignored the danger, aimed in straight at the forehead of the nearest ghoul and fired one round through his head. He dropped and laid still. The others were climbing to their feet in spite of the bullets that filled their bodies.
“You have to put one through the brain,” I calmly explained and squeezed off another round at the next closest. He too dropped and was done. The other two were now to their feet. The guardsmen had put dozens of bullets into their chests, and yet they pushed on singly focused on sinking their teeth into another victim. I turned to them and taking my pistol in both hands, aimed and fired a round at each of them; right through the skull. They collapsed.
I turned back to the group, stared right at the Captain and said, “That’s your enemy. At least now you know.” I started walking past them toward the terminal again. Everyone stepped aside as I approached. I saw my wife and kids standing by and reached out my hand for them. Jr. took it and I lead them back toward the truck.

Morning after zombie attack

From a story I’m finishing up. Hopefully in a couple weeks

When Ted and I finally got up the nerve to head downstairs, after there was plenty of sunlight, we carefully crept down. We had to push all the junk we threw down out of the way first. It turned out it was as effective at preventing us from going downstairs as it was from preventing zombies from getting up. Eventually we crawled down and assessed the damage. It took me a moment to get used to what I was seeing. I hardly recognized the room as the living room I spent hours upon hours watching TV in and playing video games. Apparently my shots with the shotgun were not well aimed. There were holes in the couch and walls. The sliding glass door was shattered and the pictures too were wrecked. The saddest part of the whole thing was that I shot the TV. I nearly cried. Honestly. I loved that TV. 60 inch high def—it was one of my favorite things. Besides the damage, there were tons of zombie body parts around. Guts and blood and parts were scattered around. It looked like a butcher’s shop. I gagged a little but then faked a cough to play it off. Ted too was having trouble with it and held his arm in front of his face to block the smell that rose up from the stinking rotting corpses. We stood staring at it all for a few minutes, just turning our heads from side to side and trying to make sense of it all. At night it didn’t seem nearly as, well, as real. But with the warm sunlight streaming in from the broken windows and door, everything was exposed. I yelled at Anna to stay upstairs until we made sure it was safe and to clean up a bit. Ted echoed my instructions to Erin.
With strategy at all we started tossing stuff out the back into the yard. After a little while I got used to the stench and stopped gagging. Ted and I worked like beasts to quickly clear the way. He was like a super useful and efficient beast, I was more like a fat and slow beast, but we got the job done. I didn’t want the women and kids to see the mess for two reasons. One, because it was gross. They would be grossed out and possibly freak out and I didn’t want to deal with the panic. Two, they would all know how close I came to death the night before and my reputation as a zombie killing master would be threatened. I didn’t want that either so I was glad we got it cleaned up a bit.
When we were finished there was still obvious damage to the room with a lot of broken furniture and glass, not to mention the TV, but we got the bodies out. We couldn’t do much about the blood and all but it was better to see some bloodstains on the carpet than an entire arm and entrails, not to mention a head with the face half blown off. Nothing was ok about all of that. It was hard enough for Ted and I, it might have been traumatizing for the wives and kids. Once everything we could toss into the yard was out I drew the curtains closed to try to prevent anyone from seeing the mess.
We called for the women and they came down the stairs with the kids huddled behind them. They stood in shock for a moment and scanned the room.
Anna broke the silence, “What happened down here?” she whispered.
I answered with authority, “A battle between the living and the dead.” They women and children stepped off the stairs and explored the room a little. I saw them take note of the blood. I knew how they felt. I was dealing with the same feelings. The war between us and zombies invaded our home. It was very, very real. It was difficult to take in. I wasn’t really paying attention well and didn’t notice Junior head over to where the sliding door was and look through the blinds. He stood there staring for a minute I guess. I noticed when he turned and started balling as he ran to his mom and cried into her side—his arms wrapped around her waist. So much for avoiding trauma.
I didn’t know what to do about my son crying. We were all just staring at him while my wife tried to calm him down. I decided to keep pushing forward. “Hey we have a lot of stuff to load. We need to get all the ammo, guns and food we can carry. Come on, we are wasting time, let’s move.”

Grandma got bit by a zombie

From the story I’m focusing on currently.

Finally one of the boys, about six years old, opened the door. The boy’s mother grabbed the sandy haired, scrawny kid up and hugged him tightly. Ted saw the younger boy, a four-year-old and a younger version of his older brother, and hugged him as well. I stood near the door so I could keep an eye on the truck, but peered in the house as well. Everything looked well enough, but I knew better. My heart was pounding and I gripped my machete tightly, sweat dripping off my face.

“Where is grandma?” Erin finally asked the six-year-old, Sammy.

“She is in bed,” the boy explained.

“She is sleeping?” Erin asked.

“Yeah, she is not feeling very well.”

“Is she sick?”

“I guess. I don’t really know. She was ok earlier, but she went to go check on the neighbor’s kid and she started feeling bad.”

Ted took control, which is good because I was about to start ordering them around, but I really didn’t want to start a panic. Panicking only makes surviving more difficult. “Boys, get in grandma’s car. We’ll be right there.”

The little one, Conner, wanted to know why, “What’s wrong dad?”

“Just do it!” Ted shouted. The boys obeyed, knowing that something was wrong, but not sure what it was. Erin ran to her mother’s bedroom to check on her. Ted turned to me, “Do you know what this is? Now would be the time to say something.”

“I think so. But you are not going to like it. And it is going to sound crazy to you,” I began.

“I don’t care,” Ted admitted. “Something is very wrong. I have no idea what it is, but you seem confident so tell me what you think is going on.”

I took a deep breath. I checked the truck once more. Then I looked Ted square in the eyes and without a hint of irony I told him, “I think this is the beginning of a zombie outbreak.”

“What? Like in the movies? Zombies? You are crazy. That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. With everything that is going on I can’t believe you would waste my time with that.”

“I told you it would sound crazy.”

“You were right. Just because you brought us here, and I truly am grateful for that, how in the hell do you think it is zombies? I didn’t think there was ever such a thing.”

“I have no proof that it is zombies, I am only reacting in the case that it is. I know that the government has taken serious measures to prevent this virus from spreading, people are scared, panicking, and I would rather be wrong than right and not done anything about it.”

“I agree that things are pretty tense right now, but zombies?”

“I’ll tell you what, go check on your mother-in-law. Either way, I will leave.”

“What will she tell us?”

“I am only interested in finding out how she got sick.”

“What do you mean? If this is something to do with zombies, how will she get sick?”

“You don’t know?”

“Look you’re the freaking zombie expert, just tell me.”

“Well the virus lives in the brain. That’s why zombies act brain-dead. The virus actually kills all of the brain matter that controls cognitive thought and leaves only basic functions like movement. It can be passed through a bite however, which is why I want to know how your mother-in-law got sick.”

“Fair enough zombie man. Let’s find out.” Ted had a smirk on his face as he raised his hands as though surrendering. He didn’t believe me.

We walked to the bedroom where Erin’s mom was sleeping. We found Erin in the dimly lit room by her side, stroking the older woman’s silver hair. I stayed in the doorway so that I was out of the way. Ted went to Erin.

“How is she?” asked Ted.

“Not well,” Erin answered.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“It seems she has the virus they were worried about. She has a fever, she is sweaty and pale.”

“That could be flu though right?” Ted asked. “Doesn’t all that sound like the flu?”

“I suppose.”

I was growing impatient, but I wanted to know how she got sick so I butted in and just asked. “Did she tell you how she got sick?”

Erin looked up at me with her eyes squinted and face tight but answered, “She said she went today to see the neighbor’s daughter who was sick and later she started feeling ill. She said their kid was really sick. I guess the girl had been sick for about a day and her skin was really hot and her eyes were bloodshot. She said the girl had gone crazy from the fever.”

“Crazy? Like what? What was she doing? Did she say?” I asked body tense, voice rising louder than I intended.

“She said the girl was moaning strangely and she even bit mom when she tried to help her.”

“She bit her? Are you sure?”

“That’s what she said.” I shot a glance to Ted who was wide eyed. I didn’t say another word, just went to the truck. Ted followed me out.

“Is that what you were looking for?” he shouted at me. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

I was losing patience. I shouted, “That’s not what I wanted to hear, but it was what I expected to hear.”

Ted recoiled. He exhaled heavily, “So what? What’s next?” His head hung low and body slumped.

“Ted, next I am going to go home and try to gather my family. I suggest you get out of here while you still have one. This is going to get much worse.”

“Are you sure? Zombies?”

“Do you want to wait around here to find out?”

“No.”

Zombies!

So…I write things other than the Sureshot stuff. In fact some of my problem is not being able to decide which of the dozens of stories I have, in my mind and on paper already, to work on. Here is a glimps of one I’m trying to finalize this summer:

I was struck by the horror of what was happening. As I looked into the snarled and twisted faces of the beasts which were advancing on me, I recognized the family that lived in the house behind ours. I still had my survival instincts about me though as I defended my home and my family with deadly force.

Bits of flesh and thick blood flew in all directions plastering my living room with death. Again and again I fired trying to push them out of my house but they mostly fell and then rose again. A couple had been sufficiently struck in the head to end their miserable existence, but there were too many. The shotgun was out—I reloaded.

More shots. Reloaded. I could hear nothing except a pounding in my ears. It seemed as though death was swallowing me. I could hardly see. Partially because it was dark and partially because sweat was running in my eyes. The room was filled with smoke and stunk like rot and decay.

Shotgun empty. No more rounds. I pulled the pistol and started firing. One, two, three I dropped them to the ground. Seven shots then…click. I didn’t bring another magazine down stairs. I knew I needed to rush upstairs to get more rounds and more guns and keep fighting, but I froze. I would not have admitted it back then, but I froze. After all I prepared for and all I had already endured I couldn’t move. I just held my pistol in front of me bolt back, casings all around me. Deaf, blind, numb I stood there waiting for them to get me.

A pair of zombies inched their way towards me. One crawled on the ground, his legs too torn up from all the rounds I fired at it to walk. I was mortified to look at it and recognize it as Sonya, my neighbor. Distorted and deranged it was of course no longer her, but a shadow of her image remained and it shook my soul. The other slugged its way towards me, arms out, mouth wide, blood dripping from its tongue. This one too I knew—Mario, Sonya’s husband. I had barbequed with the man numerous times, watched football with him and drank beer. Now he was trying to eat me. Not him of course, but the monster he had become. I lowered my gun and stared at it in awe. The thing I had been most afraid of and thought I had prepared for was about to kill me. If only I hadn’t gone fishing.