The Zombie in the Basement

by Giangregorio, Anthony

  Ricky turned around, expecting to see the zombie getting ready to pull him closer to eat him, but what he saw was an old man with white hair, pale skin and liver spots. He immediately realized this wasn’t the face he’d seen at the basement window. What he thought was a zombie was in fact the owner of the house.

  This was Mr. Rollin, in all his glory, looking about as close as you could get to a real live zombie.

  “Now just what in blue blazes are you boys doing in my basement?” Mr. Rollin asked as he stared at the two quivering boys through his thick glasses.

  At first, neither Ricky nor Eric spoke, both still in shock and relieved they weren’t about to get eaten.

  But slowly, as the seconds passed, each boy regained his composure and calmed down.

  “We’re sorry, sir, we were looking for the zombie. We wanted to find it so we could be heroes,” Ricky said, deciding honesty was the best course of action.

  “Ah-ha, and do your parents know you like to break into people’s houses after dinner?” Mr. Rollin asked.

  “No, sir,” both boys said at the same time.

  But Ricky was up to defending himself. He quickly filled in Mr. Rollin on what he had seen earlier that day and what he and Eric had decided to do.

  “And then we came in here to get proof of the zombie so people would believe us,” Ricky said.

  Mr. Rollin listened quietly, smiling a few times and nodding his head. Then, as Ricky finished his story, the old man began to chuckle.

  Ricky and Eric looked to one another, not understanding what was so funny. After all, the old man had been caught red-handed. The truth was out that he had a zombie in his basement. He couldn’t hope to keep it a secret any longer, and if he tried to hurt either Eric or Ricky, people would find out. But the old man laughed,

  as if the story Ricky had spun was all make believe.

  Finally he stopped and patted both boys on the shoulder gently, then he turned and began shuffling back to the doorway of the large metal door.

  “I think you two boys might want to come back into this room with me and see your zombie for yourself.”

  As Mr. Rollin shuffled away, Eric looked to Ricky. “Should we?” Eric asked.

  Ricky shrugged. “Why not? If he wanted to hurt us he would have done so already. I think he’s safe enough.”

  “But what about what our parents tell us about strangers?” Eric asked.

  Ricky shrugged again. “Eric, we’re the ones who broke into his house. If we’re worried about him being a stranger, I think it’s a little late for that.”

  Eric nodded. “Yeah, good point. Okay, let’s go.”

  Ricky took the lead and the two boys followed the old man who was now at the doorway. A light flicked on in the other room, and as Eric and Ricky reached the doorway and stepped inside; their eyes went wide with wonder at the sights that greeted them, their nose tick-

  ling to the smell they first noticed upon entering the basement.

  In every corner of what was obviously a workshop, stood life-size statues of every conceivable monster from history. Wolfman, The Mummy and Dracula to name a few, were mixed in with Jack the Ripper and other assorted characters. It was as the boys were walking around that Ricky came face to face with his zombie.

  The statue was standing in the far corner, and as Ricky looked up into the dead eyes and pale face, he recognized it immediately. This was the same one he’d seen in the basement window when he had fetched the ball. On a workbench were supplies, such as glue and wax, and this was the odd smell they had noticed, the odor being the chemicals to make the statues.

  “But how?” Ricky asked. “I saw this zombie at the window and I heard it moan.”

  Mr. Rollin nodded from across the room. He was leaning against his workbench as he watched the two boys with amusement.

  “Sorry, to disappoint you, son, but what you heard was an old man trying to move that heavy statue without

  a dolly. I thought I could do it but it was too heavy. That’s when I leaned it against the basement wall and went to get the dolly from upstairs where I’d left it. I’m not as young as I used to be and a groan and a moan are a few of the things that slip out of me every now and then.”

  Ricky nodded in understanding, feeling slightly silly. Eric was off to the right, admiring a life-like statue of a cannibal. The teeth were filed down and the head was bald, a spear in the left hand. Eric touched the arm and it came back with a light film on it.

  “What is this stuff?” Eric asked.

  “That’s wax, son. I make all these statues out of wax. That’s why I work in the basement. It’s cooler down here so the wax doesn’t melt. Then, when they’re done, I send them off to different wax museums across the country. I have a few in Las Vegas, too. I did a special one of Elvis Presley.”

  “Who’s that?” Ricky asked.

  Mr. Rollin waved the question away, realizing the boys weren’t impressed with names such as Elvis.

  “It doesn’t matter, son. So, are you two happy now that you know my little secret?”

  “What secret?” Eric asked.

  “The secret that I work in wax. I keep to myself and you two are the first people in the neighborhood to know. I always ship my statues at night when everyone is inside so no one knows what I do here. I like my privacy.”

  “Okay, if that’s true, then why is your yard so messy? Why don’t you cut the grass or trim the trees?” Ricky asked. “Why does the house look like a haunted house?”

  “Ricky, don’t ask that stuff,” Eric snapped.

  “Why not? It’s a valid question,” Ricky said defiantly.

  “No, it’s okay, I actually do have an answer for you,” Mr. Rollin replied. “You see, since my wife passed away a few years ago, I just haven’t had the heart to keep the place up. You see, she loved to work in the yard, paint the trim on the house and things like that. Since she’s been gone, I guess I’ve just lost the will to want to do any of that. Until you brought it up, I guess I never really thought about how my house must look to others in the neighborhood. You see, I spend all my time working on my statues, it passes the time, you know.”

  “Oh, okay, that makes sense. But how ‘bout this?” Ricky suggested. “Me and Eric and maybe a few more of our friends could come over and clean things up for you. Maybe you could give us a couple of bucks for ice cream, too.”

  Mr. Rollin rubbed his unshaven jaw as he considered the proposal, and then his face lightened and he smiled. “That, Ricky, sounds like a wonderful idea. How about tomorrow after school? You boys have school, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric replied. “Till three.”

  “Fine then, after three it is.”

  Ricky turned and walked over to Mr. Rollin, now seeing the old man for who he was, not someone he had only seen from a distance when standing on the street. Now he saw a nice old man who had lost his wife and was lonely.

  “And do you think our friends could come in and see all of the cool monsters? I know they’d love to.”

  “Well, I don’t know, Ricky,” Mr. Rollin said.

  “Please,” Ricky said, stretching the syllables of the word out so it was a subtle begging.

  It was apparent, though Mr. Rollin liked his privacy, he liked company even more, and finally he nodded yes. “Fine, fine, they can come and see my statues, but you must explain that they can’t touch them, only look. If you can promise me that then yes, they can come in and see them.”

  “All right, no problem, I’ll kick anyone’s butt who doesn’t listen,” Ricky said, clapping happily.

  Mr. Rollin looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was getting late.

  “You two should be getting home now. I’m sure your parents are getting worried.”

  Both boys glanced at one another, knowing their ruse to their parents should still be working, but Mr. Rollin didn’t know that.

  “Okay, you’re probably right,” Ricky said.

  “Come, boys, why don’t you leave through the fr
ont door instead of using the window this time, hmmm?”

  Both boys looked down ruefully, feeling bad about what they had done.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was young once, believe it or not, I know all about curiosity. Besides, I guess I did a good job on my zombie if you actually thought it was real.”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” Eric said. “Ricky was totally fooled.”

  Ricky chuckled. “Yeah, he’s right, I was positive there was a real live zombie down here.”

  “Well, now you know the answer so you can go. Follow me, and give an old soul a second longer, these old bones aren’t as young as you are,” Mr. Rollin said as he headed for the basement steps.

  Ricky grabbed his flashlight where it still lay on the floor and the two boys followed Mr. Rollin.

  He led the two boys up the stairs to the first floor and then to the front door. Both Eric and Ricky took in all they could see and were surprised to see the first floor was neat and clean. Everything was in its place, the house immaculate. It appeared only the outside needed some upkeep. Mr. Rollin walked the two boys outside, then to the gate of the wrought iron fence where he unlocked it for them so they could leave like houseguests.

  “So long, boys. Despite how you arrived, I’m glad you dropped by. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have company and now that I have, I have to say I’ve missed it. I’ll see you tomorrow with your friends. I bet when you’re done, the old homestead won’t look the same.”

  “No, sir, it won’t, you’ll see,” Ricky said as he and Eric waved goodnight.

  Mr. Rollin closed his gate and shuffled back into his house. As he closed the front door, he showed a smile, something he hadn’t worn in many a year.

  As Ricky and Eric walked back to the cul-de-sac and their prospective homes, Eric stopped Ricky and pointed back to the old house.

  “Well, Ricky, so much for your zombie. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Ricky gave one of his patented shrugs. “Nothing, why do you ask?”

  “Nothing? But it was all a mistake. There was no zombie in the basement.”

  Ricky smiled. “I think I would disagree with you on that one. In fact, there’s more monsters in that basement than either one of us could have known was possible. It doesn’t matter if they were made of wax, they’re still real. We went looking for a zombie and we found one; end of story.”

  Eric pouted as he gave that some thought, but in the end he couldn’t deny that Ricky was right.

  “Okay, you win, Ricky. You said you saw a zombie and I guess you did.”

  “Yeah, I did, and best of all, we found out that Mr. Rollin is a nice old man. It just goes to show you how you can’t judge someone without really knowing them. You know, like actually talking to them. We all thought he was a mean old man and all he was is lonely.”

  “Yeah,” Eric said. “I guess you’re right.”

  Ricky patted his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it, when you get as old as I am you just know more.”

  Eric frowned deeply. “Older? Ricky, you’re three days older than me. Our birthdays are like, days apart.”

  “Exactly, but mine is still before yours which makes me older.”

  Eric wasn’t taking this lying down. This had been something of a contention between them for as long as they had been friends. Ricky loved to play the elder card on him.

  As the moon rose into the night sky, and the boys argued playfully back and forth over who was older, the same owl, now back in its favorite tree, swiveled its head to watch the two boys from across the street.

  Finally it grew bored with the two boys’ antics and it flew off for better hunting grounds.

  THE NEXT EXCITING ADVENTURE IN THE DEADWATER SERIES!

  DEAD SALVATION

  BOOK 9

  by Anthony Giangregorio

  Henry Watson and his band of warrior survivalists roam what is left of a ravaged America, searching for something better.

  HANGMAN’S NOOSE

  After one of the group is hurt, the need for transportation is solved by a roving cannie convoy. Attacking the camp, the companions save a man who invites them back to his home.

  Cement City it’s called and at first the group is welcomed with thanks for saving one of their own. But when a bar fight goes wrong, the companions find themselves awaiting the hangman’s noose.

  Their only salvation is a suicide mission into a raider camp to save captured townspeople.

  Though the odds are long, it’s a chance, and Henry knows in the land of the walking dead, sometimes a chance is all you can hope for.

  In the world of the dead, life is a struggle, where the only victor is death.

  DEAD WORLDS: Undead Stories

  A Zombie Anthology Volume 2

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Welcome to a world where the dead walk and want nothing more than to feast on the living. The stories contained in this, the second volume of the Dead Worlds series, are filled with action, gore, and buckets and buckets of blood; plus a heaping side of entrails for those with a little extra hunger.

  The stories contained within this volume are scribed by both the desiccated cadavers of seasoned veterans to the genre as well as fresh-faced corpses, each printed here for the first time; and all of them ready to dig in and please the most discerning reader.

  So slap on a bib and prepare to get bloody, because you’re about to read the best zombie stories this side of Hell!

  DEAD HOUSE: A ZOMBIE GHOST STORY

  by Keith Adam Leuthke

  The old mansion on the edge of town, aptly named Dead House, has a history of blood, pain, and death, but what Victor Leeds knows of this past only scratches the surface of the true horrors within.

  But when his girlfriend is attacked by a shadowy figure one rainy night, he soon finds himself caught up in a world where the dead walk and ghostly wraiths abound.

  And to make matters worse, a pair of serial killers are fulfilling carefully made plans, and when they are done, the small town Stormville, New York will run red.

  The last ingredient to open the gates of Hell, and plunge this small upstate town into madness, is rain. And in Stormville, it pours by the gallons.

  BOOK OF THE DEAD 2: NOT DEAD YET

  A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Out of the ashes of death and decay, comes the second volume filled with the walking dead. In this tomb, there are only slow, shambling monstrosities that were once human. No one knows why the dead walk; only that they do, and that they are hungry for human flesh. But these aren’t your neighbors, your co-workers, or your family. Now they are the living dead, and they will tear your throat out at a moment’s notice. So be warned as you delve into the pages of this book; the dead will find you, no matter where you hide.

  CHRISTMAS IS DEAD: A ZOMBIE ANTHOLOGY

  Edited by Anthony Giangregorio

  Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a. . . zombie?

  That’s right; this anthology explores what would happen at Christmas time if there was a full blown zombie outbreak.

  Reanimated turkeys, zombie Santas, and demon reindeers that turn people into flesh-eating ghouls are just some of the tales you will find in this merry undead book.

  So curl up under the Christmas tree with a cup of hot chocolate, and as the fireplace crackles with warmth, get ready to have your heart filled with holiday cheer.

  But of course, then it will be ripped from your heaving chest and fed upon by blood-thirsty elves with a craving for human flesh!

  For you see, Christmas is Dead!

  And you will never look at the holiday season the same way again.

  REVOLUTION OF THE DEAD

  by Anthony Giangregorio

  THE DEAD SHALL RISE AGAIN!

  Five years ago, a deadly plague wiped out 97% of the world’s population, America suffering tragically. Bodies were everywhere, far too man
y to bury or burn. But then, through a miracle of medical science, a way is found to reanimate the dead.

  With the manpower of the United States depleted, and the remaining survivors not wanting to give up their internet and fast food restaurants, the undead are conscripted as slave labor.

  Now they cut the grass, pick up the trash, and walk the dogs of the surviving humans.

  But whether alive or dead, no race wants to be controlled, and sooner or later the dead will fight back, wanting the freedom they enjoyed in life.

  The revolution has begun!

  And when it’s over, the dead will rule the land, and the remaining humans will become the slaves…or worse.

  DEADFREEZE

  by Anthony Giangregorio

  THIS IS WHAT HELL WOULD BE LIKE IF IT FROZE OVER!

  When an experimental serum for hypothermia goes horribly wrong, a small research station in the middle of Antarctica becomes overrun with an army of the frozen dead.

  Now a small group of survivors must battle the arctic weather and a horde of frozen zombies as they make their way across the frozen plains of Antarctica to a neighboring research station.

  What they don’t realize is that they are being hunted by an entity whose sole reason for existing is vengeance; and it will find them wherever they run.

  VISIONS OF THE DEAD

  A ZOMBIE STORY

  by Anthony & Joseph Giangregorio

  Jake Roberts felt like he was the luckiest man alive.

  He had a great family, a beautiful girlfriend, who was soon to be his wife, and a job, that might not have been the best, but it paid the bills.

  At least until the dead began to walk.

  Now Jake is fighting to survive in a dead world while searching for his lost love, Melissa, knowing she’s out there somewhere.

  But the past isn’t dead, and as he struggles for an uncertain future, the past threatens to consume him.

  With the present a constant battle between the living and the dead, Jake finds himself slipping in and out of the past, the visions of how it all happened haunting him.