Gruesomely Grimm Zombie Tale

by Wilhelm Grimm

  The children were scared to death and tried to hide. One slipped under the table, another into the bed and under the covers, the third into the oven, one into the cupboard under the kitchen sink, and another into the dryer. The youngest managed to fit inside the grandfather clock that had been passed down through the family.

  More zombies stumbled into the house and, one by one, the children were found and devoured. The only child not discovered was the one inside the grandfather clock. Eventually, the zombie mob was finished and they stumbled out in search for more victims. Even the children eventually rose and joined the madness.

  A little later, the mother returned home. The sight that her eyes beheld was heartbreaking. The front door was still wide open. Table, chairs, and the sofa were overturned; the dryer had its door ripped off and was smeared with blood; blankets and pillows had been torn off the bed. She looked for her children, but there were none to be found. She cried their names one after another, but no one answered. Finally, when she called out for the youngest, a thin voice cried out.

  “I’m in the clock, mother.”

  She brought him out and he told her how the zombies had come and eaten all the others. You can imagine how she wept over her poor children. Turning on the television, she saw that the problem had indeed spread. The government was now advising people to head to FEMA-run emergency shelters.

  Gathering a few things, she scooped up her youngest child and prepared to evacuate to safety. The last thing she grabbed was her ex-husband’s revolver from the shelf in the closet.

  As they stepped out onto the porch, Mister Miller from next door heard the mother speaking words of comfort to her child. He decided to crawl out from under the trailer where he’d hidden the entire time, listening as his undead wife and the other zombies had broken into the trailer and eaten the children inside.

  Poking his head out, Mister Miller wasn’t paying attention and hit his knee on a cinder block that was helping to support the trailer. He moaned in pain.

  The mother heard the noise and drew the revolver. A head peeked out from under her trailer. Aiming at the back of the balding head, she fired the weapon. The body twitched and stopped moving.

  “C’mon, sweetie,” the mother hugged her youngest child close and pulled the door shut, “once we get to the shelter we’ll be safe.”

  6

  John

  Based on:

  Der Treue Johannes

  It had been almost a decade since the dead rose, walked, and attacked the living. In that time, small pockets of humanity built bastions to keep themselves safe. In one such place, the man who had a large hand in securing the location, building its defenses, and bringing in other survivors, finally fell prey. It was a small bite really. But then, that is all it takes.

  On his deathbed, strapped in and awaiting his final breath as one of the living, he called in the man who had been considered by most to be his chief lackey. Having been saved from certain death by the man everybody now just called The President, this lackey, John, was about as faithful and trustworthy as The President could hope to find. And that is exactly who The President had summond to his room just before he was about to turn.

  When John arrived, The President nodded for him to come sit beside his bed and listen to his last request. “My good friend, I feel that my end is near. Only one thing weighs on my mind: my son is still at an age where he doesn’t know what is best for him. I won’t be able to die in peace unless you promise to take him under your care, teach him all he needs to know, and be the father to him that I will no longer be able to be.”

  “I will never leave his side, sir,” John replied. “I’ll teach him all there is to know about surviving in this new world, and protect him to the last…even if it requires that I have to give my life for that cause.”

  “Now my mind can rest,” The President groaned. “And after my death, you must show him the entire compound. Make certain he knows about every vault and storeroom, but, keep him out of my observation tower. If he manages to get an eyeful of one of those hotties at that compound across the river…well, he might start thinking with the wrong head. I’ve seen one gal in particular who has had me thinking about running the gauntlet. You need to keep him from that.”

  When John had promised, the man known as The President lay back and closed his eyes. A moment later, they opened again. John took the drill from the guard and personally bore a hole in the zombie’s forehead, putting him down once and for all.

  After the corpse had been burned, John sought out the man’s son, Brandon King, but everybody just called him Junior. John explained all he had promised his father on his deathbed.

  “That is a promise I intend to keep,” John said. “Your father risked his life to save me, and I will gladly give mine to keep you safe.”

  Once the young man had been allowed an appropriate amount of time to grieve, John sought Junior out. “It’s time to show you what your dad has left behind. This compound is yours to oversee now, and there is much to show you.”

  He led him to the secret cooridors where all the emergency supplies, food, gardening equipment, and weapons were stashed. There was one door he did not open. It was the door that led to the observation tower. That door led to a set of stairs that ended in a room with the telescope set up right at the window and pointed directly into the window of the room belonging to the very same hottie that The President had been trying to get to when he was bitten.

  Of course Junior noticed that John had shown him what was behind every door but one. He pulled up in the hallway and refused to take another step.

  “Why don’t you ever open that door?” Junior asked.

  “Because,” John replied, “what lies beyond will bring you nothing but trouble.”

  “I’ve seen everything else,” Junior insisted. “And now I want to know what’s on the other side of that door.”

  He reached for it, but John blocked his way. “I promised your dad that I wouldn’t let you in that room. It’s just gonna bring you nothing but trouble…and me in the process.”

  “I don’t believe you,” John argued. “And if I don’t go in, I’m sure it will make me crazy. Day and night, I’ll be fixated on it. In fact, I’m not budging until you open that door.”

  John realized there was no way around it. With a heavy heart, he sighed and took the key from the ring. He opened the door and went in first hoping to perhaps knock the telescope askew. A lot of good that did. Junior had never seen outside the walls of the compound, and sat for quite a while scanning the ruins of a civilation overrun by the undead. When he spied the other compound, he was so excited that he jumped up, hit his head, and knocked himself out cold.

  John scooped up the young man and carried him back to his room. This won’t go well at all, John thought. If Junior is anything like his dad, John had no doubt he’d want to find a way to that other compound where there were actual women?

  When Junior came to, the first words out of his mouth were, “Did you see the absolute babes kickin’ it over at the other compound?”

  “You mean the blonde with the long golden tresses and the huge rack?” John couldn’t help but sigh.

  “And we haven’t had any women here for so long,” Junior continued. “I’d cross a thousand zombie infested blocks just to have a shot at that. You gotta help me on this, John.”

  John thought it over, then realized that the one thing he hadn’t seen in the other compound was any kind of fruit tree; whereas, they had two beautiful apple trees that produced delicious apples that made the tastiest golden-hued brandy.

  “Go and bring me two casks of your dad’s supply of apple brandy,” John said. “We will sneak over to that compound disguised as travellers. People have almost no tolerance for alcohol these days. We shall get everybody drunk and bring the girl back with us. We’ll leave the second cask behind as payment. After all, we aren’t barbarians.”

  They each secured a cask on their backs, selected a few choice weapons, and
slipped out through one of the secret exits. The journey was perilous and would make for an exciting tale of its own, but eventually they arrived at the gates of the other compound.

  Once inside, John told Junior to hang back and let him do the talking. He quickly went into a spiel about how they were travellers from far away, and that zombies had managed to knock down their main security gate. He told the small crowd gathered around that they had managed to salvage a couple of casks of apple brandy and would willingly part with one if allowed to stay. The members of the compound agreed and decided to throw a bit of a party.

  Once the party was in full swing, John sidled up beside the golden-haired beauty that Junior was so infatuated with. Twice he refilled her cup while engagning her in polite conversation. He showed her the second cask of brandy after a while.

  “I actually know a place where there is much more,” John whispered in her ear. “Not only that, but there are apple trees heavy with fresh fruit.”

  “I would give anything to sink my teeth into a ripe, red apple,” the woman—who revealed her name to be Sarah—sighed.

  “Actually,” John said as he refilled her cup again, “if you would like, I’ll show you.”

  “Maybe you could just bring some apples to me,” Sarah slurred.

  “But why settle for a few apples when I offer the tree?”

  “Fine,” she agreed, the alcohol now firmly clouding her sense and judgement. “Take me to this place and show such treasures as an actual apple tree.”

  John smiled and poured her another cup. He watched as, one by one, the revellers staggered off to find a place to sleep, then he led her to the gate where Junior had waited patiently. When Junior saw her up close, he was thrilled to discover that she was even more beautiful in person.

  They slipped out the gate, but it was close to sunrise. So as soon as they had gotten far enough away that the other compound was in sight, they found an abandoned building to hide in and barricade themselves for the day.

  When she awoke, Sarah was horrified to discover her dilemma. She looked back and forth between the old man who’d gotten her drunk, and the young, handsome and muscular man who’d arrived at the gates of the compound that she’d called home early the previous day.

  “Please,” she cried in horror, “I don’t know if you’re rapists or cannibals…but if you’re gonna kill me, do it quickly.”

  “Easy, Sarah,” Junior took her hand and patted it gently, “you don’t want to bring the zombies down on us. Actually, I have a compound even bigger than the one you were in. And John wasn’t kidding about the apple trees. I’m sorry about getting you drunk and stealing you away from your people, only, from a tower in my compound, I saw you through a telescope and fell madly in love with you. And I mean that literally, because when I stood up, I hit my head and knocked myself out.”

  Sarah laughed at his humor and found herself similarly attracted to him. In no time, the two agreed to be married once they returned to Junior’s compound where she would live even more comfortably than she had before, and be able to eat all the apples she desired.

  That afternoon, while Junior and Sarah napped and they waited for an open window of opportunity in which to travel, John had a vision. In this vision he saw three ravens who began to converse.

  “Look, he’s taking Sarah-with-the-golden-tresses home with him,” the first raven cawed.

  “So he is,” answered the second, “but he hasn’t got her yet.”

  “What do you mean he hasn’t got her yet?” cried the third. “He’s got her right there snuggled in his arms.”

  The first spoke again and said, “A lot of good that will do him! When they exit this dilapidated building, he will spy a recently abandoned Harley that looks like it will run. He’ll want to climb on, and if he does, it will rocket out of his control and he’ll never live to see his wedding chamber.”

  “Is there no way of saving him?” asked the second raven.

  “Oh yes, if somebody else jumps on quickly and rips the wires from the mighty motor, then the chopper will be just another piece of junk and Junior will be saved. But who knows that? And if anyone knows and tells, he’ll be turned to a zombie after being bitten on the leg.”

  “I know something more,” said the second raven. “Even if the chopper is disabled, Junior won’t be able to hook up with Sarah. When they reach the compound together, he will see what appears to be a cool bottle of water, but it is really a poison made to keep down the rats, and if he drinks it, it will burn a hole in his guts.”

  “Is there no way of saving him?” asked the third raven.

  “If somebody handles the bottle, preferably with gloves to keep it from possibly getting on their skin, and throws it in the fire and burns it up, then Junior will be saved. But what’s the good of that! If anyone knows and tells him, he is fated to be attacked by a zombie within the day and have his guts torn from his body.”

  “I know more still,” said the third raven. “Even if the chopper is disabled and the poison disposed of, Junior won’t live to hook up with his hot new chicky. After the wedding, there will be a party. While Sarah is shaking her groove thing, she will suddenly turn pale and fall down as though dead. Unless somebody lifts her up and sucks three drops of blood from her right breast and spits them out, she will die. But if someone knows it and tells, he will fall prey to a pack of zombies and be completely torn to bits from head to toe.”

  When the ravens finished their conversation, they flew away. Good old John had heard every word, and these days, people who used to take certain medications to keep from seeing imaginary friends or talking animals were left to suffer with their psychosis. John sat silent and sad, because if he didn’t tell Junior what he had heard, Junior would come to know much grief, and if he did tell, he would be forfeiting his own life. In the end he thought, I will save Junior, even if I have to die for it.

  When they finally had an open window where there were no zombies in sight and left the building, it so happened that there was a Harley on its side in the road—exactly where it lay when they passed in on their way to meet Sarah.

  “Cool chopper.” Junior nodded towards the bike, and John ran over to it and ripped at every wire he saw coming from the mighty engine.

  “Does he flip out like that often?” Sarah whispered.

  “Sometimes he seems a bit kooky,” Junior whispered in response. “And every once in a while, I see him talking to thin air, but he’s a good enough old dude.”

  When they reached the compound late that afternoon, John showed Sarah to what would be their room. Thirsty, he picked up a bottle of water from his table, but John ran over, snatched it from his hands and tossed it into the fireplace where it promptly extinguished the flames. He hadn’t bothered to remove the gloves he’d been wearing while they were out in the zombie infested ruins. But now he peeled those off and tossed them in the fireplace, too.

  “What the hell is his problem?” Sarah asked again.

  “Sometimes he just does things,” Junior shrugged. “But deep down he always means well. Really, babe, John’s a good dude. Maybe he just needs some rest.”

  Later that day, the wedding ceremony was performed. Sarah was blown away by how well-stocked this compound was compared to her old one. Also, as promised, there were plenty more apples…and apple brandy. Not used to it, she drank way too much. As the party hit its stride, Sarah began to feel the effects of the hooch. John had stood on the fringe the entire time, just watching. Suddenly, Sarah turned pale and passed out in a drunken stupor.

  John leaped into action, scooping her up, and carrying her to Junior’s bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, ripped open her blouse, took his knife and cut away her bra. Making a slice on her right breast, he sucked three drops of blood and spat them out. Sarah, pained by the slice to her breast, began to regain consciousness.

  About that time, Junior caught up and burst into the room. All he saw was his new bride on the bed with her shirt ripped, her bra sliced open, blo
od dripping down one breast, and John holding a knife with blood smeared on his mouth.

  “You’ve gone too far this time, you crazy old bastard!” Junior yelled. “Toss him over the wall!”

  John begged and cried as he was led to the wall. He told about the three ravens and all they said. He explained how he was only trying to save Junior and his new bride.

  “I’ve always been faithful to you!” John wailed.

  “You’re a lunatic!” Junior replied. “Birds can’t have conversations. At best, they might say ‘Pretty Bird,’ but that’s about it.”

  John was tossed over the wall and torn apart by the waiting pack of zombies below. A couple of people joked about how at least he got that last part right.

  7

  Murphy’s Deal

  Based on:

  Der gute Handel

  The sun rose to reveal that a small caravan of survivors had set up beside a tiny creek. This was larger than some, smaller than others, just shy of a hundred members. They’d been forced to move from their last settlement when a lightning strike had set the nearby forest on fire. For two weeks they travelled in search of a new home. At last, they’d found a good spot.

  Nobody knew that they were beside what had once been known as the Sandy River. In fact, not one actually knew they were in what had been known as the state of Oregon. The zombie rising of almost five years ago had made all that unimportant. The only thing that was important was surviving…and not getting bitten.

  Travelling with this band was an old man that everyone had taken to calling Murphy because of the empty plastic container of Murphy’s Soap that he carried clutched in his gnarled hands. It was agreed that, as long as he remained harmless, he could stay under the protection of the group. Murphy was what many used to refer to as “batshit crazy.”