by Joshua Cook
****
The Boy Who Cried Zombie
The sound of gunshots was more deafening than the screams and groans of the undead. The resulting spray of blood as his bullets found their target, each one ripping through blackened and rotting flesh, was beautiful. The sound his footsteps made through the gory mess on the ground was sickening, but also satisfying. Sam was surrounded and low on ammo. He was not sure what he was going to do… then the beeping…
Burritos are done.
Sam paused his game and went into the kitchen to grab his food. The kitchen was a disaster and he knew he would never hear the end of it if his fiancée came home and saw this mess. There was a discussion about it earlier, as Sam remembered it. That was a couple hours ago, before Heather even left for her Girl’s Night.
With that discussion fresh in his mind, Sam hurriedly ate his burritos, barely taking the time to enjoy them. Then, controller in hand, he found the next save point in his game and powered down. At a loss for where to start, he walked his plate back into the kitchen, knocking over a pile of pizza boxes on his way.
Ah, Zombie Fest. Sam got a fond look in his eyes and drifted away on memories of hanging out with his friends, eating pizza and watching the end of the world, due to the zombie apocalypse of course, over and over again. We must have watched ten movies that night. He absently rubbed his hands on his head, as if he were trying to run his fingers through his short, unkempt dark hair. He chuckled, but then remembered the one thing worse than a zombie apocalypse.
Better get this over with so we don’t upset her highness.
Looking at Heather’s innocent face, with her brown eyes that melt like chocolate, and a smile to light even the darkest abyss, one would never guess the emotional demons that seem to linger within. Even with her emotional baggage, Sam loved her more than life itself.
Sam gathered up the pizza boxes and the rest of the garbage around the apartment, and headed outside to throw it all in the dumpster. Wearing his normal, lazy attire of jeans and a novelty t-shirt (today was an old Boondock Saints shirt), he really did not feel like going through the hassle of finding socks and shoes and putting them on, so he decided to just run outside barefoot.
As he was outside attempting to shove his garbage into an already overflowing dumpster, something caught Sam’s attention at the end of the alley. He noticed a guy slowly walking, or maybe shambling would be more accurate, down the alleyway. The term shambling popped into Sam’s head because of the way the man’s right leg was limp and slightly dragging behind him.
Is that what I think it is?!
Alarmed, Sam threw the last of the pizza boxes on the ground and bolted for the apartment. I knew we should have gotten a second floor apartment in case the worst happens! He ran straight to the computer, and logged into his most trusted zombie outbreak site to check for any recent activity. Since they have just moved to this area, Sam kept it bookmarked to always be prepared. Just like The Guide tells us to. It confirmed that there has been zombie activity in the area recently, but it looked to be localized and contained.
Being a good citizen, and a little too scared to run out attacking zombies just yet, Sam called the Zombie Emergency Hotline, which was apparently too busy with this localized and contained outbreak to show up in less than an hour.
Zombies move slowly, but they don’t move that slow. And this place is like a buffet, all these apartments crammed on the first floor.
A new thought popped into Sam’s head now. If this really was a dangerous outbreak, and they really did pick a zombie deathtrap as housing, then maybe they are really in trouble. He grabbed his phone and frantically texted Heather:
Zombie comin. 4 real this time. R U ok? B ready. On my way.
No reply. After a few minutes he re-sent the text. Still no reply.
Typical. She’s probably still pissed at me.
Sam ran outside, still barefoot, and saw Dirty Leg Dragger, Sam always had a thing for nicknames, still shambling up the alleyway. This is it! Sam had been waiting for an outbreak of his own for so long. This whole zombie mess started when he was pretty young, but growing up with zombies in the news had made Sam somewhat of a fanatic, to say the least.
Knowing his escape plan to the letter, Sam ran in the house and dug around for socks and shoes, figuring now was not the time to be lazy. He rushed down the hall and started grabbing tools from different parts of the room. Sam paused as he dug a small lockbox out of his sock drawer and unlocked it.
“I hoped I never had to use you.”
He knew this was a lie even as he said it aloud, but he thought it sounded cool to say. He pulled the small, snub-nosed revolver out of the lock box. It was an impulse buy at the pawn shop a few months back. The clerk had told him this would be all the firepower he would need. After grabbing a hunting knife and his black Skid-Lid helmet, complete with flames on the side, he ran out the door. Throwing on the helmet, Sam shoved the revolver in his pants and hopped onto his chariot, a baby blue moped with chrome finish.
I have to save Heather…My future!
Even with his ride sounding like a hover vehicle straight out of The Jetson’s, Sam felt brave. He knew this was his day. He will be a hero today.
When he pulled into Tasha’s driveway to pick Heather up, he slowly walked around, looking the neighboring houses up and down. Tasha’s neighbors did not appreciate this as much as Sam would have liked, and he moved along back to Tasha’s house after a few too many yells of “Creep” and “Pervert.”
Tasha opened the door and rolled her eyes. “Heather, it’s your…” she looked Sam up and down with distaste, “worse half.” She stepped aside to let him in.
He found Heather and pulled her aside. He proceeded to tell her about Dirty Leg Dragger and the reported zombie activity. Sam was talking so fast even his own fiancée had a hard time making him out.
“Honey, I need you to slow down. I can’t understand you.” Heather said.
After explaining things at a slower pace, even if only a little slower, Heather finally started to understand what he was rambling on about.
“So you came rushing over here, gun in your pants mind you, busting into our Girl’s Night to cry zombie…Again? What the hell is your problem?”
“Yeah! What the hell is your problem?!” A third voice bellowed from the doorway.
They both look back at the bathroom door, which they thought was closed. There stood Tasha, her arms folded, long blonde hair lying over them. “I don’t appreciate you barging in like this, with some bullshit story about zombies!”
“You know they’re real. They’re on the damn news for Christ’s sake!” Sam yelled.
“I never said they weren’t real, we just don’t have them around here. That’s why I moved here.”
“That’s how outbreaks happen…you don’t know there’s a weekend scientist trying to re-animate the dead down the road…Until he makes one mistake and all hell breaks loose for a few days.”
Heather had had enough of their childish bickering. “Fine. Let’s go, Sam.”
Tasha looked from Heather to Sam, and then back to Heather. “Why?”
“I love Sam. If he is this adamant that this could be an outbreak, I believe him.” This was said more for Sam’s good than it being the actual truth. Really, she just figured better safe than sorry, and this way she wouldn’t have to listen to Sam all night.
“And so you two are just going to escape on his bad-ass bike out there?” Tasha pointed back at Sam’s chariot with her thumb. “I don’t think you guys are gonna get very far in this major outbreak.” She started to laugh.
“Then we borrow your car.”
Tasha stopped laughing and looked at Heather, “Over my dead body.”
“If I’m right, that can be easily arranged.” Sam mumbled under his breath.
Tasha shot Sam a dirty look and fixed her gaze back on Heather. “Seriously, that car goes nowhere without me. It may
be a piece of shit, but it’s my piece of shit.”
“I don’t care who comes. We need to go. This dicking around here is wasting too much time. Where are your keys?” Sam had already begun searching the nearest drawer for any keys he could find.
“They’re in my purse. I’ll grab them. Just stay out of my drawers.”
“Gladly.” Sam ignored yet another dirty look and began speaking more stridently. “Heather, get your stuff together and grab the bag off my bike. Tasha, I’m gonna grab a few supplies from around here.”
“No you’re not.” Tasha’s voice carried from down the hall.
“Fine. We die, it’s on you.” Sam yelled back.
“That is a chance I am willing to take.”
“Well I’m not….” Sam grabbed the keys out of Tasha’s hand as she walked back into the front hallway. “If I’m not grabbing supplies, I’m driving.” He ran out the door before she had a chance to argue.
“He’s a good driver, Tasha. Calm down.” The look in Tasha’s eyes told Heather her feeble attempt to calm the situation hadn’t done much good.
They all piled into Tasha’s Ford Escort, with the car’s owner grudgingly taking the backseat. Sam started the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading towards I-5. Once they hit the interstate, he took the north on-ramp, hoping to head for Canada.
One of Sam’s zombie sites had said there was a defense camp set up just on the other side of the border. Well off the beaten path, defense camps such as these were somewhat common and set up to help victims of a zombie attack or outbreak, but not run by any government organization. This information was kept from the girls since Sam knew they would consider the camp to be full of conspiracy theory freaks.
Sam instead used the time they had in the car spouting off zombie facts and survival tips the whole way north. He was so engrossed in helping educate the girls that he did not notice the occasional eye rolls, which were mostly coming from Tasha. A few miles out of town, Tasha had finally had enough and demanded to know where they are going.
Sam looked down and noticed the gas light on. “Not too much further if we don’t get some gas…So who’s paying?”
The next exit brought the Ford Escort to a small, isolated gas station. It was almost pitch black, with the only light coming from two weak lamps by the gas pumps. Sam got out and began to pump the gas. After he was finished, he took munchie requests, along with Heather’s debit card, and headed into the gas station.
“You don’t look like a Heather to me, sir.”
Sam finished setting his armful of stuff on the counter.“Seriously, dude? We’re gonna do this now? I’m in a hurry, just run the card so I can get outta here.”
“What? Did somebody die?” The clerk laughed.
“They will soon, so hurry up.”
Sam looked around nervously in a way that made the clerk feel uneasy. He swiped the card through the reader, but before he even had a chance to hand it back to Sam, a scream pierced the still air of the night. Both men jumped and looked out the large window.
Heather was struggling with someone near the back of the car. Sam knew this was no normal person and ran outside, leaving the food and card behind. The clerk watched as Sam darted up to the commotion.
Sam pulled out his revolver and quickly fired a shot at the zombie. The shot went wide and hit the gas pump, almost ricocheting into Heather. Not like the video games, is it, Sam? He steadied himself and tried again, this time hitting the zombie in the shoulder.
Heather broke free and ran to hide behind Sam, unsure of who was more dangerous at this point. Sam took aim and fired another shot, finally hitting their attacker in the face. The man fell to the ground as Sam’s arm fell to his side.
With everything going on, Sam hadn’t even noticed Heather still screaming behind him. Sam whirled around to notice another zombie. This one was busy ripping Tasha’s throat out with his mouth, which kept him quiet enough for Sam to not notice at first. As Sam signaled for Heather to be quiet, he slowly walked around the car. Tasha’s body lay half out of the car, her head almost touching the ground. The zombie was kneeling over her, munching on her neck like a juicy red watermelon on a warm summer day.
The sight of the zombie tearing Tasha’s jugular out and her looking so…dead, was too much for Sam’s stomach to handle. He bent over and threw up, the sloshing sound attracting the zombie’s attention to the possibility of a new meal.
When Sam looked up, the zombie was almost on him. He quickly straightened up and fired his revolver, hitting his target squarely in the left eye. He ran back to Heather, hugging her and making sure she was ok. She nodded, saying she was, though talking was hard from the adrenaline she had pumping through her system.
“You…were…right.”
“I’ll gloat about it later. Right now we have to get out of here.” He looked around, making sure there were no other zombies in the vicinity. With the coast being clear, he grabbed the corpse from the backseat. As he went to throw it in the parking lot, he noticed that it was a fresh zombie. The skin is still tight, with very little decomposition. He ran back to first zombie and noticed the same thing.
Fresh zombies. Odd. Amateur scientists can’t afford fresh corpses like these.
Sam snapped back from his thoughts and remembered one very important rule he had forgotten about. He ran back around to the driver’s side of the car and gave Tasha two quick, close range, shots to the head and threw her body on the ground. Unfortunately, in his haste, he did not plan on the mess that would be left in the backseat as a result of his double-tap.
He grabbed Heather, who was still dazed, but a little more in control now, and started digging in the trunk for some blankets. Once they found a couple, they threw them over the bits of Tasha that were still left in the backseat, and started driving back towards I-5.
Just a little way down the road, Sam noticed a delivery truck on the side of the road that had crashed into a tree. He slowed down to get a closer look and noticed it is a refrigerated cargo truck with its back doors wide open.
Sam could hear the engine running and debated stopping. Then he noticed the driver, mutilated and hanging out of the cab of the truck, and decided against it. He pushed his foot harder down onto the gas pedal, looking at the wreckage in the rear view mirror.
Is that the Roslun Global logo?!
Thank you for reading this tasty sample of the upcoming AiZ: Alice in Zombieland from Zombie A.C.R.E.S. If you enjoyed these stories, please visit and share the links below with your friends and family. Indie publishing is a family affair, and it takes every member to help the family succeed.
About the Author
Joshua Cook has been plucked from Wisconsin and has landed in the Pacific Northwest. After attempting his hand at numerous career choices, the call of becoming a writer was so loud that he could not silence them anymore. Josh is now a Writer-For-Hire, producing content for websites like Yahoo, Google, BuzzDock, and personal clients.
About the Editor
Julianne Snow is the author of the zombie web series Days with the Undead and blog The Flipside of Julianne. She is also a zombie columnist for The Spirit Digest.
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