Zombie Games (Uncut) Boxed Set

by Kristen Middleton

  “Is that Ben Smith?” asked Barbara Jean, her voice strangled.

  “Looks like it might have been,” mumbled Henry.

  The two zombies ignored them and continued to tear into their victim, who stared up at the ceiling, mercifully, with lifeless eyes.

  “Let’s go,” said Henry, holding the cane in front of them as they moved away from the gruesome scene.

  “Someone’s coming,” whispered Ginny as she pointed down the hallway to something moving in the shadows.

  “It’s Lizzy,” sighed Mary in relief.

  “It was Lizzy,” mumbled Henry as the woman, now obviously a zombie, shuffled out of the darkness and toward them with a look of glee. Before she could get too close, Henry raised the cane toward her. “You stop, right there.”

  Instead of obeying, Lizzy lurched toward him, her hands outstretched. Before she could reach Henry, who was in the front, he hit her in the stomach with the cane.

  “That’s not nice, Henry,” said Barbara Jean, stepping around him. “She was a sweet woman.”

  “Was, Barbara Jean, was,” sighed Mary.

  With a growl, Lizzy lunged at Barbara Jean and they both toppled to the ground.

  “No!” screamed Ginny, rushing toward them as Henry and Mary stared in shock. Ginny grabbed Lizzy’s arm, but instead of releasing Barbara Jean, the zombie turned around and bit her on the top of her hand, tearing off a chunk of skin. She made a guttural moan and began chewing, a satisfied grin on her face while Ginny howled in pain.

  Henry sprang into action, hitting the dead woman in the head as hard as he could with the cane.

  Stunned, the zombie fell to the side.

  “Ginny? Are you okay?” he asked, pulling her away from the creature.

  “It hurts,” she moaned. “Feels like someone threw acid on my hand.”

  Lizzy, who’d obviously recovered, let out a screech and crawled toward Barbara Jean, who was still sobbing hysterically on the floor.

  Swearing, Henry raised the cane, hitting the creature on the head several more times, until she finally stopped moving.

  “You okay, Barbara Jean?” he asked, pulling her up off the ground.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’m fine.”

  Mary grabbed Ginny’s hand and examined it. “This looks bad. God, you poor thing! We’d better find you a bandage and some peroxide.”

  Ginny tried to swallow, but found it was difficult. Her entire mouth was dry and her tongue felt thick. “I feel so warm and… I just…”

  “Watch out!” screamed Barbara Jean, backing away.

  The two other zombies, who’d obviously finished feeding on Ben, were already upon them. Before anyone could react, one of the creatures grabbed Barbara Jean, tearing into her cheek with its teeth while the second reached for Mary, who screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “No!” hollered Henry, raising the cane, toward Mary’s attacker. He slammed it into the back of the zombie’s head and it dropped to the floor.

  “Oh, no…. Barbara Jean!” gasped Mary.

  Henry turned back toward the woman, who was already dead from the glazed look in her eyes. The zombie was greedily attacking her bloody neck with vigor, ripping and tearing at her skin with teeth and fingers.

  “Lord… have mercy,” choked Mary, backing away.

  Horrified, but sensing that Barbara Jean was beyond help, he grabbed Ginny’s good hand. “Come on, Ginny. We have to get out of here.”

  Instead of obeying, she fell to her knees. “I… I have to lie down,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “No. Get up! I can’t carry you, woman. Not after that hip replacement last year. You’ve got to get up!”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. You know… I’m just going to take a little nap.”

  Tears filled Henry’s eyes. “Mary, you have to help me lift her.”

  Mary nodded, but before she could move, two more zombies turned down the hallway and began staggering toward them.

  “Forget leaving the building. Let’s get her back into my room,” said Henry.

  “Yes, quickly,” agreed Mary.

  They pulled Ginny up and grabbed her around the waist, when the other zombie, who was snacking on Barbara Jean, decided to intervene. It grabbed Ginny’s housecoat from behind and bit her on the back of the leg.

  “Henry!” she cried out, as the zombie ripped a piece of skin from her leg. Blood gushed out of the wound and she fainted in their arms.

  “Damn you to hell,” snarled Henry, glaring at the zombie as they tried pulling Ginny out of its’ reach.

  But the zombie wasn’t finished yet. It got on its feet and then lunged toward her, biting Ginny on the back of her neck, its teeth gnashing and tearing at her skin.

  Mary screamed in horror and released Ginny, who toppled to the ground.

  Henry turned around, raised his boot, and kicked the zombie in the pelvis as hard as he could. The monster fell backwards, but instead of lying still, it quickly crawled toward Ginny, viciously biting and tearing into an exposed thigh.

  “Ginny!” cried Henry.

  “Watch out, Henry!” gasped Mary as the two other zombies arrived, joining the one on the ground feeding on Ginny.

  Henry, horrified and defeated, turned to Mary. “We have to get to Neil’s room. He has a gun. I almost forgot!”

  “He does? How in the hell did he hide it?”

  “In his guitar case,” said Henry, grabbing her hand. “I’m surprised nobody noticed when there was never any music coming from his room.”

  “This is insane,” moaned Mary, taking one last glance at the two older women who’d been alive and playing strip poker less than five minutes ago.

  “Try to focus on getting out of here,” mumbled Henry, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Can’t help them now.”

  They raced toward the elevator and found that it wasn’t working.

  “The electricity must be out in the entire building,” said Mary, pushing the button several times. “I thought it was just a fuse or something.”

  “The stairs,” he pointed to the stairwell. “No other choice.”

  “At least Neil’s room is on the main floor. Let’s go.”

  They went down two flights until they reached the main floor.

  “There were several zombies on this floor the last time I checked,” she whispered as they stood outside of the doorway.

  “Let’s hope they’ve scattered.”

  Fortunately, there weren’t any zombies when they opened the metal door and glanced down the hallway.

  “Let’s go,” said Henry, pulling her out of the stairwell.

  They snuck down the hallway and rounded the corner, when Mary sucked in her breath. “Zombie.”

  “Oh, hell,” sighed Henry, recognizing the man whose gun they were about to borrow. “It’s Neil.”

  They watched as Zombie Neil shuffled down the hallway, away from them. When he rounded the other corner, Henry and Mary made a run for it, rushing to his room and slamming the door.

  “Dammit,” groaned Henry, limping. “These hips aren’t made for speed anymore, Mary.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, looking concerned.

  His eyes twinkled. “Well... nothing a little T.L.C. couldn’t cure. Unfortunately, there’s no time for that. If we make it out of here alive…”

  “If we make it out of here alive,” she said. “I’ll massage your hip and even let you cop a feel. This time I won’t even slap your hand away.”

  He grinned, remembering the last time he’d tried touching one of her breasts. She’d cussed him out, but there was something in her eyes that told him she’d been a little flattered. Angry, but flattered.

  “Oh, you’ve just given me something else to live for, by golly. We’re getting out of this place – you can count on it, Mary. I won’t let you down.”

  “Good. Now, let’s find a gun and get the hell out of here. I don’t understand why there hasn’t been anyone out here to help us?”

  “It�
�s the Zombie Apocalypse, Mary. I told you it would happen someday.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Yes, you did. As crazy as it sounds, you might not be too far off. I’ve heard rumors…. Anyway, I’ve tried calling nine-one-one, and they aren’t even answering. That right there tells me things are bad all over.”

  Henry shuffled over to Neil’s closet and opened it. Finding the guitar case, he pulled it out and set it on the ground. “Well,” he said, opening up the case. “We have a couple things on our side.”

  “What?” she asked, kneeling down next to him.

  He pulled out the gun. “A loaded rifle,” he said, checking it and nodding. “Some extra bullets… and us still breathing. I call that pretty damn lucky.”

  “I never thought I’d be happy to see a gun in a retirement home. But as far as I’m concerned, this is a gift from God.”

  He snorted. “Well, I doubt God had anything to do with this, Mary.”

  “No, but if you had died and I’d have never known about this gun…”

  “Can’t argue with you there. That means I’m the gift, though Mary, not the gun.” He grinned lecherously. “Feel free to unwrap me later, if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “You just never give up, do you?”

  His face became serious. “Laughter gives me hope, Mary. If I can still make you laugh, then there’s hope.”

  She patted his arm. “I understand. Now, let’s gather some things and then drive to my house.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She stood up. “Um, Henry?”

  “What?”

  “You ever fire a gun before?”

  He stood up. “Damn tootin’, I’ve fired a gun! Now, my eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I can still shoot.”

  “Okay. I just had to ask.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. And Mary?”

  She looked up into his eyes. “Yes, Henry?”

  “I want you to know that I appreciate you coming for me. You risked your life to save mine and I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “Of course, Henry. I’d do it again. You and I have become really good friends. There is no way I’d leave you behind.”

  “Same goes here. Now, let’s saddle up and get out of Dodge. Something tells me we have a dangerous ride ahead of us, Mary. That what we’ve just seen here is nothing compared to what we’re going to be involved with later.”

  “You think it’s worse out there? That it’ll be even more dangerous”

  “Damn right I do.”

  “Then… why are we leaving?”

  “We have no other choice,” he replied, staring off into space. “And, something tells me… we’re needed somewhere else. I don’t know how or why, but I feel it in these old, rickety bones.”

  “Oh.”

  He turned back to her. “That reminds me – I need to get something for the trip. Something back in my room.”

  “It might be too dangerous, going back up there.”

  “I need my pills, Mary. You forget, I’m almost ninety.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What pills? You’re the only one here not on pills.”

  “Just some vitamins, to keep me going strong.”

  “Well… okay. If they mean that much to you.”

  As they walked toward the doorway, she reached into her pocket. “I almost forgot… I took the bus today, but I found someone’s car keys on the ground when I was running to your room.”

  He reached for them. “Oh, Cadillac, good going, Mary.”

  “I think they’re Lizzy’s,” she said somberly. “That poor woman.”

  He nodded. “Well, she certainly won’t be needing them anymore.”

  “I know.”

  As they stood next to each other by the doorway, he turned to her and cleared his throat. “It’s just us now, Mary. I can’t promise you we’ll make it out of here alive, but I can promise that I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you as safe as an old cowboy like me can.”

  She smiled. “I know, Henry.”

  “Do you believe in happy endings, Mary?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “Happy endings come in many shapes and forms. If I die tomorrow, the fact that you came to my room when all of this was happening, that for me isn’t just a happy ending, it’s a chance for me to pay you back.”

  “Oh, Henry… you don’t need to pay me back.”

  “Believe me, Mary. There isn’t anyone who can give you a happier ending like old Henry can.”

  She stared at the shit-eating grin on his face and smiled in disbelief. “You are one sick individual, Henry. Nancy James told me all about your happy endings.”

  He winked. “I made you smile, though, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you certainly did.”

  “Like I said before, smiles mean hope, Mary. It keeps us all going.”

  She touched his cheek. “That it does, Henry. That it does.”

  ****

  The End

  Dead Endz

  1

  John Doe?

  His head hurt.

  A lot.

  He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the gravel in front of his face. Clenching his teeth against the throbbing pain, he sat up and brushed away the tiny pebbles of sand from his cheek.

  Where the hell am I?

  It wasn’t every day that he woke up in an alley, sprawled out in the dirt. Nothing looked familiar and the silence was deafening. It was eerie how quiet it was; there weren’t any sounds from traffic, no hums from any of the nearby air conditioning units, not even a single bird chirping from the trees. He felt like he was in an old black and white episode of the Twilight Zone.

  He looked around, relieved to be alone in such a state of mind. Scratch that – there was a crow picking at a headless body nearby, and three zombies, about fifty feet away, staggering toward him.

  What the fuck?!

  He stumbled to his feet, watching incredulously as the figures, along with their pungent smell, edged closer.

  So maybe he’d lost his freakin’ mind?

  His mind was foggy; in fact, he couldn’t remember anything – not why he’d been unconscious, why a headless man was lying next to him, why dead people were walking above ground. Most importantly, he couldn’t even remember who the hell he was. From the pain in his head, he’d obviously been hit in the melon and it was making him forget all of the important details.

  The nasty stench drifted closer – a mixture of rotten eggs and fresh dog shit. Yes, he could definitely smell, which meant he wasn’t dreaming, and from the look of things, kind of screwed.

  One of the zombies moaned its excitement and it sent a chill up his spine. The damn thing was staring at him as if he was a succulent piece of Kobe steak, served extra-rare.

  He grunted.

  I don’t think so, buddy.

  As the distance between them closed, its face twisted into a sickly grin. From the hungry stares of all three zombies, and their outstretched arms, they definitely wanted more than a hug.

  He shook his head and smiled humorlessly. The walking fucking dead…

  Well, the two men and one female were beyond dead with their rotted flesh, missing appendages, grayish skin, and bloodshot eyes. But their hunger was alive and obviously not sated.

  Sighing, he looked around for something to defend himself with. What he found was nothing short of a miracle – an ax, leaning up against one of the garage doors. He walked over, picked it up, and moved toward the zombies.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, he was taking a cold shower in an abandoned house. The electricity wasn’t working, but fortunately, the water was. After locking the doors and locating a few toiletries, along with some clothing, he began washing the bloody grime from his body.

  Cold showers sucked but it was better than nothing.

  He closed his eyes as the icy water sprayed over his face, sighing as brief flashes of images popped into his head. One in particular was starting to
really piss him off. Some soldier, a blond guy with a cocky grin who’d threatened someone close to him. Someone named… Tex?

  His mind went blank again and he smacked the shower wall in frustration. He was so close to something just dangling at the edge of his brain – something about Atlanta. He knew with certainty that it was vital he get to Atlanta.

  Was he in Atlanta?

  He had no idea which city or state he was in. He’d have to look around the house for bills or other clues.

  He finished the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and then located some acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet. When his headache became manageable, he dressed in the faded Levis and a T-shirt he’d located in one of the man’s chests. Fortunately, they fit, although the shirt, which had a pair of owl eyes and announced, “I Love Hooters,” was a little snug.

  He smiled and shook his head. He might not remember exactly who he was, but he certainly remembered eating wings at that particular restaurant.

  Thinking of buffalo wings, his stomach began to growl, so he headed down to the kitchen where he found a single can of ravioli. He washed the meal down with a warm bottle of beer he’d found in the fridge and belched his approval. Then he grabbed the ax and went into the garage, where he located another lifeline. Someone appeared to be looking out for him.

  “Nice,” he said with a nod, admiring the black Harley V-Rod the homeowner had abandoned, a key on the ground next to it. It was in excellent shape and had obviously been someone’s pride and joy. Now it was his ride to Atlanta, and hopefully, to some answers. Amazingly enough, even with his memory loss, he was quite confident of his riding abilities; he definitely knew bikes.

  Fifteen minutes later, after locating a map, he got on the motorcycle and headed toward his destination, which luckily, was only an hour away.

  2

  Paige

  For what had to be the hundredth time in just that hour, Paige held back from using her bat. Her mom and Tiny were doing the kissy-face thing again, and it was driving her completely insane.