Undead Worlds 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Anthology

by Authors, Various

  Kristen crawled to her feet, quickly scanning for the pistol but was forced into a run at the sound of rapid footfalls coming down the stairs behind her. She was screaming and she didn't care. All her aches and pains from the past hours vanished as the adrenaline coursed through her. Her legs pumped furiously to keep ahead of the rabid man. She looped around the garage by the road, tossing the garbage cans to the ground behind her, when she remembered the people trapped inside cars on the highway. Those people weren't as angry as this guy was, but hope sprung in the idea that she might be able to trap him in the garage. On her next circuit around the garage, she tried the side door. The knob turned and she threw her weight into it, crashing through and into the side of a big SUV inside.

  As she turned, the ruined face of the man came into full focus, bearing down on her. She slid her body toward the rear of the Jeep a split-second before the man collided head first into the side of the vehicle. The dull metallic thud sounded loudly in the small space. She paused, watching for a moment, hoping that the force of the impact had rendered him unconscious or better, dead. Her brief hopes were dashed when the man immediately turned and scrambled on all four to come after her. She dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the clumsy tackle and stepped toward the open door. Three more strides carried her out of the garage, where she slammed the door shut behind her. Without a moments pause, she ran to the front of the garage. She knew that the flimsy wooden side door couldn't contain the enraged man, she figured that her only hope of keeping him inside was to distract him away from it. She slammed her hands noisily on the roll-top door while shouting:

  “Over here! I'm over here!”

  She leapt back and screamed in terror as the man threw himself bodily into the roll-top door. The sound of the door shaking on its metal rollers reverberated loudly, echoing off the forest and throughout the area. Kristen backed away from the garage slowly. She watched the garage door shaking for a long while before finally breaking away. She moved south on the roadway and made her way back to the house in a wide, circuitous route.

  “-are you sure, Darr?” Tina asked her husband as Kristen approached the two on the porch.

  “Of course I'm sure, you think I wouldn't recognize him, Tina? Hey, you okay, Kristen?”

  Kristen nodded as she mounted the steps.

  “You guys got a spare vehicle I can take?” she asked. “I appreciate you taking me in, but I need to get home to my family.”

  “Out of gas on the exit, where I ran into you.” Darrell replied, shaking his head to the negative. “Tina's car is down at Ricky's, waiting on a back-ordered starter.”

  “What about that Jeep in there? You have the keys to it?”

  “That's my brother's, been keeping it here since the divorce. He keeps the keys on him, though. You should've asked him when you met.”

  Kristen looked at him blankly, having no idea what he was talking about.

  “He's the one that was chasing you just a minute back.” Darrell replied with a big, mischievous grin on his face. “Now, I think we'd best be getting inside. It looks like all the commotion brought some unwanted attention to us.”

  Tina smacked Darrell on the back of his bicep as the two moved inside. Kristen turned, looking out off the front porch. As her eyes focused she could see a great many forms converging on their location. She paused long enough to scoop up her pistol from where it lay on the browning grass before following Tina and Darrell inside.

  About Arthur Mongelli

  Arthur Mongelli spent his formative years in the 1980s. Growing up in the shadow of the Cold War and the heyday of apocalyptic cinema left an indelible mark. The lingering fascination with zombies and the apocalypse in general is the theme of most of his body of work. He is the author of Harvest of Ruin (Severed Press 2017), The Dead of Winter (Severed Press 2017), and A Spring of Sorrow (Severed Press 2018). Additionally, he has had short stories published in Undead Worlds: A Reanimated Writers Anthology (2017) Mad Like Me (2017) and the upcoming Undead Words 2 anthology (2018), His current work in progress, tentatively titled 'Sand' is a non-zombie, dystopian/post-apocalyptic tale.

  12

  Breakfast in Hell

  by Dia Cole

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s a good day to die,” Trish said, pointing her semiautomatic assault rifle up at the cloudless sky.

  Her words made the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” Keeping my fingers tightly wrapped around my tactical knife, I wiped away the sweat on my forehead. It was only late January, but the stifling heat wave was a familiar prelude to a scorching Saguaro Valley summer—a summer we probably wouldn’t live long enough to see.

  Trish swiped her frizzy auburn hair out of her face and flashed me a feral grin. “We all got to go someday. Why not today?” She moved farther out into the debris-covered street, her face shadowed by the Festival of Lights banner doing the splits between two palm trees overhead.

  “Hush, you two,” ordered Eric, pressing himself flat against the abandoned Suburban we were using as cover. He glared at his younger sister who shared his slight stature and light brown eyes. “Get back here if you know what’s good for you.” At twenty-three he was only a few years older than Trish and me, but he loved to boss us around.

  “You know, you’re my least favorite brother.” Trish blew a raspberry at Eric and bounced up and down on the balls of her sneakers like the overexcited puppy my sister had once rescued. Of course, that had been long before the canine flu vaccine brought about the zombie apocalypse. Now the human species needed rescuing far more than any animals.

  Trish rubbed her belly. “I’m starving. Why did we have to skip breakfast for this stupid field training test?”

  My stomach rumbled at the reminder of our missed meal. I’d given my sister most of my MRE last night, which made missing the single protein bar we were rationed for breakfast hurt more than usual.

  Next to me, Eric shifted his shotgun. “Shut your mouth. They’ll hear you.” He jerked his beard-covered chin at the crowd gathering in front of the Euro Gift Shop down the street.

  I tensed, glancing at the mob.

  Even with their heads and limbs bent at odd angles, the shambling bodies could almost be mistaken for normal people. Almost. But a closer look at their milky eyes, uncoordinated gait, and rotting skin gave them away. Biters.

  Trish scoffed. “They’re all the way over there.”

  She can’t be serious. We all knew how dangerous Biters could be when they gathered together, and that pack was the largest I’d seen since the day the world went to hell over a month ago. The memory of the zombie horde smashing through my house had me shivering despite the warm temperature.

  Trish held her fingers to her lips and mocked her brother by making loud shushing noises.

  Neither the desert heat nor Trish’s cavalier attitude was doing anything to thaw the ice water running through my veins. Why did I volunteer for this? Oh wait. I didn’t. Sergeant Dominic Rosario, the leader of our group, ordered us to accompany him on this training mission. Before he’d left to scout ahead, he’d announced we'd be tested on our survival skills and our knowledge of his rules.

  Ugh. He has so many goddamn rules. Living under Dominic’s command kept us alive, but sometimes I wondered if we'd embraced the devil in an attempt to survive hell.

  I rubbed a sweaty palm on my jeans. I have to pass his test. Those that failed were exiled or assigned the most menial jobs back at the school where we were staying. Although being shackled with latrine duty wasn’t the end of the world, being thrown out of the safe house without the protection of Dominic and his soldiers would be. Even worse, my sister and close friend would insist on leaving with me. I can’t keep them safe by myself. Not with those things out there.

  As if sensing my fear, two of the Biters down the street lifted their heads and sniffed the air.

  I froze, not daring to move a muscle.

  After a tense moment, the creatures
turned back to their shambling.

  I let out a relieved breath. Thank God we were all wearing heavy perfume to disguise our scents. We didn’t know how or why, but Biters seemed to rely on their sense of smell to hunt.

  “Those Biters have the right idea. We should get breakfast there.” Trish pointed at the gift shop. “They have the most amazing fruit pies. They’re better than sex.” She smacked her lips. “Anyone want to get a pie with me?”

  Eric gritted his teeth. “No one is getting a pie with you. Now be quiet.”

  Trish flipped him off.

  Eric and I shared a troubled look. Although sassy as hell, the pixie-sized girl was normally razor-focused in the field. Her strange mood only made my anxiousness grow.

  “I’m getting breakfast.” Trish spun on her heel and marched down the street.

  Has she lost her damn mind?

  “Stop her,” Eric barked into my ear. “She listens to you more than me.”

  Making a sound of frustration, I ran after my friend and snagged the strap of her weapon with my free hand. “Do you have a death wish?”

  She winked at me and mouthed, “Play along.” The overpowering scent of marijuana wafted off her clothes.

  I gasped in disbelief. We’re out in one of the deadliest parts of the neighborhood, and she’s high? Great. Just great. Not only weren’t we going to pass the field training test, she was going to get us killed. I cast a quick glance at the Biters. Thankfully, they hadn’t detected our presence. Yet.

  “Let me go,” she exclaimed, trying to shake me off.

  Years of spinning around a pole, along with Dominic’s daily defensive training workouts, gave me the strength to reel the smaller woman in. I dragged her behind an overturned gray sedan trying to ignore the blood-streaked windows. “Dominic ordered us to stay by the Suburban.” Rule number one, follow Dominic’s orders.

  Trish gave a dramatic eye roll. “He’s been gone too long. He’s probably been eaten.”

  My stomach dropped. Not Dominic. He can’t die. Despite my conflicting feelings on the handsome sergeant, I couldn’t bear to consider anything bad happening to him. I shook off her words. “Seriously? The man could take out a horde with his bare hands. You don’t want to piss him off.”

  Trish scoffed. “Just because you have the hots for one of the scariest mofos still alive on this planet doesn’t mean I’m going to roast my lady balls off waiting for him.” She whipped around and elbowed me in the gut.

  I doubled over with a grunt, losing my grip on her. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  She glared at me with her hands on her hips. “I’m getting that fruit pie.”

  “Not only is that suicidal, you know we’re never supposed to travel anywhere alone.” Rule number eight, always travel with backup.

  She arched a brow. “So, come with me.”

  Movement over her shoulder quickened my pulse. Two zombies peeled off from the pack and lurched our way. “Biters, eight o’clock!”

  The closest flesh-eater wore teal medical scrubs, and a nurse’s ID badge linking her to the retirement home up the street. The shredded skin of her throat revealed a half-eaten trachea, the same color as her sunken white eyes.

  Close behind her shambled a hulking, male Biter, wearing a blue polo and bloodstained chinos. Maggots danced in and out of the gaping hole where his nose had once been.

  I gulped. These Biters weren’t like the toothless, armless ones we’d practiced fighting back at the safe house. These monsters will fight us to the death.

  Trish spun around, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll teach these cock blockers to get between me and my breakfast.” She shouldered her rifle and pointed it at the nurse.

  “What are you doing?” I grabbed the weapon and ripped it from her hands. “Guns are only used as a last resort.” Rule number five. “The noise will attract the others.”

  “You’re right. Damn, I forgot my spear. Can you handle them?”

  Crap! I gave Trish her rifle back and pushed her behind me.

  The nurse was only a few yards away. Seeing us, she clicked her bloodstained teeth together in frenzied anticipation.

  Terror slammed into me. My muscles froze and my heart hammered so hard I feared it’d burst through my chest like some kind of alien monster.

  “Snap out of it, Lee!” Trish whispered hoarsely. “You have to do something or we’ll die.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Realizing the nurse was almost on us, I took a deep breath and immediately choked on the pungent, rotting-meat stench of her. Quickly switching to mouth breathing, I focused on Dominic’s training. The words he’d drilled into my mind came back to me. Attack. Don’t react. Stiffening my shoulders, I raised my knife and ran at the flesh-eater head-on.

  She opened her jaws and reached for me.

  Avoiding her long, jagged fingernails, I stabbed my blade straight through her milky eye. It exploded like an overripe grape. Ugh. I ripped my blade free, and she collapsed to the street, lifeless.

  Before I could congratulate myself on the kill, the male Biter shambled over her body and tackled me to the asphalt.

  Shit! The air whooshed out of my lungs and my knife flew out of my hand.

  “Kick him off!” Trish cried.

  Adrenaline roared through me as I fought to keep the Biter’s snapping jaws away from my throat.

  “You’ve got this,” Trish called out, suddenly becoming my personal cheerleader.

  No, I don’t. It’s too strong. My arms shook with the strain of trying to hold off the freakishly huge creature.

  It gnashed its teeth and several writhing maggots fell onto my face.

  Oh, God! I couldn’t stop the impulse to shake them away. I lost my grip on the Biter.

  He lunged for my throat.

  Letting out a foul curse, Trish swung the butt of her rifle into the temple of the Biter, knocking him off me.

  I scrambled away as she brought the rifle down on his forehead, crunching in its skull like an eggshell.

  “Th-thanks,” I stammered wondering why she’d waited so long to help.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “You may not thank me in a few minutes. Just remember whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

  I looked at her in confusion. “What will be okay?”

  Ignoring my question, she looked up at Eric who’d run over to join us.

  He frowned as he clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you’ll have better luck next time.”

  “If Dominic gives her another chance,” Trish added, shaking her head.

  I blinked in slow understanding. “Wait, you mean you guys staged this?”

  The Miller siblings shared a guilty look.

  “I don’t understand. Aren’t you guys being tested today too?”

  “We passed our field training two weeks ago,” Trish replied in an apologetic voice.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling a bitter stab of betrayal.

  “Please don’t be mad. Dominic didn’t give us a choi—” Trish broke off as a large shadow fell over us.

  All six-foot-six muscular inches of Dominic stepped around the sedan. His dark close-cropped hair, tactical vest lined with throwing knives, and shiny black combat boots marked him as the Special Forces soldier he was.

  “You three, over here,” he rumbled in a deep voice.

  Not wanting to test the sergeant’s limited patience, we hustled to follow him down the street.

  A small gasp of surprise escaped my lips when I spied the carnage in front of the gift shop. The entire pack of Biters lay motionless on the ground—a single knife wound in the center of their skulls. Dominic’s calling card.

  As I stepped over the piles of bodies, I realized the sergeant must’ve been inside the shop watching us the whole time. No wonder the infected were gathering in front. Way to be observant, Lee.

  Dominic’s flint-black eyes bore into mine as he propped the door open to the gift shop. His silence was damning.

  A sinking feeling grew in my stomach. Crap. I
really messed this one up.

  “Get inside. I’ve cleared the shop,” Dominic said, his massive shoulders filling the doorframe.

  My heart raced as I squeezed by him and entered the small shop. The welcoming scent of floral potpourri failed to take the edge off my anxiety. Ignoring the rows of nesting dolls and colorful wooden bowls on display, I studied Dominic. It made no sense that he could scare the hell out of me and intrigue me at the same time.

  The ever-present dark scowl on his sinfully full lips should’ve been enough to dampen my attraction. But despite his dangerous aura, or maybe because of it, he had me seriously rethinking my lifelong vow of abstinence.

  Not that he’d be interested. In over a month of living with him, he’d never spoken to me without either barking an order or glaring at me. Which was fine, I needed a man like I needed a bullet to the gut. Especially an alpha male soldier like him. Like my father. I shuddered hoping that monster was roasting in hell.

  “Attention,” Dominic called out.

  Trish, Eric, and I fell in line, our backs against the cash register counter.

  Dominic paced in front of us. “Did you wake with amnesia this morning, Miss Walker?”

  I flinched at the ice in his tone. “No, sir.”

  “Then explain why you seem to have forgotten every goddamn thing I’ve taught you.”

  Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I curled my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “Um—”