“I said stop, damnit!” and with that, Chris rushed forward and slammed his palms into chest of the zombie.
The zombie bounced backward a few feet and nearly fell to the ground. It composed itself, and lurched forward again.
Chris had an oily film on his hands that reeked of old fish guts. “Erik! Go get the shotgun out of the Jeep,” he called, keeping his eyes on his adversary.
Big Daddy had moved between Greg and the kids. “What is it, man? What the hell is that thing?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like a zombie. This isn’t Halloween night, so it must be some kind of prank.” Chris once again slammed his palms and all the weight of his body into the zombie, letting out another yell of warning.
“Ow! He bit me!” Chris’s left forearm was missing a chunk of flesh and blood poured from the wound.
The zombie staggered back farther than before, but regained its balance, and came back for more.
Chris moved over by Big Daddy. Blood dripped between his fingers as he tried to slow the flow. Erik showed up by his side with the shotgun.
“Go ahead, Erik. Shoot it!” Chris said.
Erik was a little unsure and nervous. He licked his lips and flipped the safety off.
The zombie continued its approach.
Erik closed his eyes, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, and fired. The birdshot peppered the chest of the walking dead man. Bits of bone and dust blew out of its backside but only caused it to stumble in its deadly approach.
“Take a head shot! Nothing can live without a head,” Chris yelled.
Erik was less than six feet from it and managed to keep his eyes open on the second shot. Skull, teeth, hair, and goo exploded in all directions. The body of bones collapsed to the ground.
The second blast from the shotgun faded. The wood in the fire crackled in the background.
Big Daddy broke the silence when he saw a puddle of blood on the ground growing from Chris’s wound. “Uh, Chris. How bad is that bite?”
“I think it’s pretty bad. He bit a hunk out of me.” Chris was in obvious pain.
“Well uh, let me take a look at it, and I’ll see about wrapping it up.” Big Daddy being a Scout Leader had formal Wilderness First Aid training.
Chris turned his body to the light of the fire and removed his hand from the gash for Big Daddy to see. The top of his forearm was missing a big plug of meat. If it wouldn’t have been for all the blood, he could have seen exposed bone.
“Ooo, uh. That’s a big flipping bite there. Band-Aids aren’t going to cover that up. We need to stop the bleeding and get you to the hospital,” Big Daddy said, and called for Hayden to get him a towel from his Mustang.
“I’m not feeling too good.” Chris’s face had turned pale and was coved with perspiration.
Big Daddy helped Chris to the ground. Erik knelt next to his dad and put his hand on his shoulder. Hayden brought the towel and Big Daddy did his best to slow the flow of blood. The others gathered around, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do.
“We need to get you to the hospital. Can you walk, or do we need to carry you to the Jeep?” Big Daddy asked.
“I . . . I don’t know. Maybe. I’m so cold.” Chris’s eyes started to flicker as if he were going to lose consciousness.
“Stay awake, Chris. Don’t leave us.” Big Daddy tapped Chris on his cheek with his open hand.
“Dad. Dad. Stay awake!”
“Erik . . . listen to me, son. If I don’t make it . . . promise me you’ll earn your Eagle Scout Badge. You’re so close. It will open doors for you in life,” Chris said, straining to stay conscious.
“I will, Dad. I promise. Just stay awake.” Erik watched his dad’s eyes close. “Wake up! Don’t sleep! Talk to me . . . tell me a joke. Anything!”
Chris’s eyes opened showing a spark of life. “A joke . . . okay, okay . . . What’s . . . What’s the best thing about kissing Marilyn Monroe?”
“I don’t know. What?” Erik smiled, choking back tears.
“You won’t have to dig her up, because she’s crawled out of her grave!” Chris’s eyes went from his natural blue to an eerie red. In a split second he sat up and sank his teeth in Big Daddy’s shoulder. Big Daddy let out a cry that made sleeping birds in a nearby tree to fly away.
Erik jumped up and backed away, not believing this was happening. His dad was tearing into Uncle Shane like a savage beast.
Chris overpowered Big Daddy and sat on top of him, chewing a mouth full of shoulder. Greg kicked Chris repeatedly in the side—yelling for him to stop.
Big Daddy screamed. Greg screamed. All the kids screamed too.
Desperate, not knowing what else to do, Greg ran to his backpack and pulled out a Ruger Backhawk .357, and shot it in the air. This did nothing to distract Chris from his feast.
Greg ran back to Chris and threatened to shoot him if he didn’t stop. He didn’t. Running out of options, Greg placed the gun against Chris’s shoulder and fired.
Chris’s body shuttered from the impact, but he continued his attack. And after going down on Big Daddy and coming up with another mouthful of flesh, Greg used his final option, and shot Chris in the head.
Chris fell over on his side. His jaw still moved. Chewing until the last bit of animation left his body.
“You shot my Dad!” Erik yelled.
“Erik. That was not your Dad. You saw what he was doing to Uncle Shane,” Greg said, feeling the guilt, but knowing in his heart he did the right thing. Erik went to his dad’s side, and Greg went to Big Daddy’s aid. “How bad are you hurt?” Shane’s upper body was a bloody mess.
“I didn’t think he was going to stop. I thought I was dead. If I had any crap left in me, I would have crapped myself.”
“Can you walk? We need to get out of here.” Greg offered Big Daddy his hand and helped him up.
“Yeah, man. I can walk. Chris ate a lot of shirt along with shoulder. I guess it could’ve been worse. What the heck is happening around here?” Big Daddy examined his wounds, using his hand to suppress the bleeding. “Too bad he didn’t eat my rear end. I got a lot of ass I can spare.”
“Big Daddy! Can’t you ever be serious! Chris is dead. I killed him!” Greg said, shaking, with all the eyes of the children on him. “Guys, we’re getting out of here. Gather your gear, and let’s get Uncle Shane to the hospital.” Erik sat by Chris’s side, checking for signs of life. “Erik, go get your Jeep. We’ll put your dad in and take him to the hospital too.”
Erik hesitated for a moment and ran over to the Jeep. He had parked the Jeep near the pond, about ten yards away from Big Daddy’s Mustang, and Greg’s Chrysler Town and Country station wagon.
Hayden assisted Big Daddy to the Mustang while his two brothers loaded the trunk with gear. Greg had his children load the back of the wagon and told Richmond he would be driving. Greg was going to drive Big Daddy’s Mustang.
Erik entered his Jeep and closed the door. His hands shook, and in the dark had some trouble finding the ignition switch with the key. One the key found the slot the engine started. He then pulled the headlight switch to ‘On.’
The headlights revealed a group of slow moving zombies coming toward him. He stepped on the floor switch to turn the lights on bright, and realized the magnitude of trouble they were in. Erik laid on the horn to alert the others. Everyone looked at the Jeep and then at the group of zombies coming their way.
“Erik! Get out of there!” Greg screamed.
Erik shifted the Jeep into what he thought was reverse, looked behind him, and mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The Jeep sprang forward instead. Erik had mistakenly put the transmission in first gear. The Jeep flew forward smashing into several of the walking dead. Then, sped on throwing pieces and parts of decaying bodies caught under the tires until the trunk of an oak brought it to a bone crunching halt, ejecting Erik from the vehicle.
Erik landed on soft ground near the pond with the wind knocked out of him. He could hear the others calling h
is name. But as he tried to stand, hands came out of the darkness and pulled him down from both sides. The putrid odor from the rotting corpses made him wretch as he desperately tried to regain his breath. Teeth sank deeply into his arms, and he managed to choke out a cry for help.
Gun fire blasted in the distance followed by pellets hitting bodies and the trees around him. One of the dead bit him on the back of his neck and sent a lightning bolt of pain to his brain. Another gun blast rang out, and the gas tank on the Jeep exploded. Darkness consumed his consciousness, his fear faded to black.
Greg, Richmond, and Brennan charged to his aid. Greg with his .357, and the other two with 20 gauge shot guns. They were careful not to shoot Erik, but could do little in preventing the zombies from getting him. The light from the burning Jeep made their targets a little easier to see. Four zombies the Jeep had run over lay on the ground. Each had their head blown off as the three ran by. Five more were in the act of consuming Erik, and it took point blank shots to get them off their prey.
Erik no longer moved. Part of his intestines hung outside his body. His left arm had nearly been chewed completely off. The three looked at him feeling powerless. Erik was gone, and they could not save him.
More of the dead came. The three chose to flee rather than continue the fight.
Big Daddy and the others met their return with blank, questioning stares. It was obvious that Erik was gone too.
“Big Daddy, Hayden, Caleb, Brennan, get in the Mustang. Wyatt, Blakey, Richmond, get in the Wagon and follow me out of here,” Greg commanded. But as the group turned to enter the vehicles, another group of living dead were almost on top of them.
Richmond was the first to fire. The head of a well preserved woman at the front of the Station Wagon disintegrated. Her red wig flew into the air and landed on the hood. Brennan shot twice and brought another down by the front of the Mustang. There were more coming. How many more, no one was sure.
“We need to get away from here. There’s too many of them. Caleb, grab the ammo! Everyone, we need to make it back to the church.” Greg grabbed his backpack and reloaded his revolver.
Richmond and Brennan led the way. Big Daddy kept his eye on the other kids. Greg watched the rear, but when he heard Brennan yell he was out of ammo, he raced to the front and brought down another walking corpse while Brennan reloaded.
The church came into view inspiring the whole group to run faster. The coast looked clear and Greg couldn’t wait to get inside for safety.
Hayden had been running right by Big Daddy’s side the whole way. But when he realized his dad was no longer close by, he looked over his shoulder and saw him a good distance behind. He came to a stop and turned around. His dad continued in his direction but lagged behind. Hayden rushed to him. “Daddy, why are you walking? We have to run. Are you tired? Daddy?”
Big Daddy didn’t answer, and plodded forward with slow, contrived steps.
Hayden grabbed his hand. “Come on, Daddy. I’ll help you.”
Big Daddy grabbed his child’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
“Ouch. You’re hurting me.” Hayden looked up, a cloud filtering the moonlight passed and Big Daddy’s face lit up enough for Hayden to see the reanimated life in his father’s eyes.
Brennan and Richmond made it to the back doors of the church first. Brennan tried the door handle. It opened. Wyatt and Blakey were the first to go in, with Caleb following. Brennan and Richmond reloaded, and stood guard by the door.
Greg tuned around, but there was no Hayden or Big Daddy. He was afraid to call out, so he backtracked in the darkness, his gun ready to fire.
Big Daddy came into view and confirmed the worse. He had turned into a monster just as Chris. His face was covered in blood and had a piece of intestine hanging from the side of his mouth. A sinking feeling in Greg’s soul told him it belonged to Hayden.
“Big Daddy . . . Shane . . . I’m sorry . . . so sorry.” Greg raised his revolver and fired. He turned and headed for the church, not knowing how he was going to tell Shane’s kids their father and brother were gone.
The flickering sign in front of the church caught Greg’s eye. A low buzzing sound oscillated until it returned to full brightness. The sign read: ‘This Sunday join us for The Lord’s Supper.’ Greg wondered what the morning would bring.
Before he was within fifty feet from the back door, a large group of walking dead came around the east side of the church. Richmond and Brennan unloaded their weapons into them, trying to buy time for Greg to arrive.
“Go back inside. All of you!” Greg unloaded his gun too, but the zombies kept coming.
The two boys went back in the church and reloaded. But as they were about to leave and continue the fight, Greg was overwhelmed by the savage carnivores. He was grabbed by his arms and legs and literally torn apart and devoured. His sons and nephews watched in shock.
Richmond pulled everyone back in the church and closed the door. He found a chair in a nearby room and shoved it under the handle so it couldn’t be opened.
Wyatt and Blakey cried. Brennan had started to tear up too. Richmond whistled loudly and made a V sign with his right index and middle finger. “Akela!” he said raising his hand high. “Akela!” The four understood. Akela was the great gray Lone Wolf who led the Pack by strength and cunning. A command they learned when they were Cub Scouts.
Richmond now claimed leadership. With their parents gone, and Richmond being the oldest, no one protested.
Richmond pointed at them. “Remember Scout Law: I can face danger even when I am afraid.”
The three choked back their tears and waited for Richmond’s instructions.
“All right, guys. We’ve got to secure this building,” Richmond said. The others nodded in silence. Richmond led the way, and Brennan brought up the rear.
The back hallway leading to the Sunday school rooms and nursery were empty, and the windows closed and locked. But they weren’t so lucky when they entered the main sanctuary. There were two of the undead staggering around the pews. The front doors were closed but probably unlocked just like the back.
The two zombies were easy pickings. They couldn’t climb over the pews. Richmond and Brennan moved two rows between the targets and blasted them in the head. The zombie’s arms grasped over the pews into thin air as they met their demise.
The other three pulled down one of the large curtains that framed a stained glass window. They removed the thick ornate rope, and tied it to the bars of the doors in front, securing it also.
“Are there any more doors that go outside?” Richmond asked.
“The front and back doors are the only ones we come in,” Wyatt said. He and Blakey were members of the church.
“Well, there’s still one more wing we need to check out.” Richmond nodded toward the open hallway on the left side of the altar. “Brennan and I will lead. Get behind us, and keep your eyes open.”
The five walked past the pews and the altar. An access way on the right led up to the baptismal, which was located behind the choir seating. The choir sat above the altar, not far from the Preacher’s podium. To the left a door leading to the baptismal was open. To the right, a door that led to somewhere behind the choir seating. On the opposite side of the access way was a short hall that led to a door. That door had the possibility of opening to the outside.
“We’ll check that door first, and then come back to the baptismal. We can’t let any more of them get in.” Richmond moved the group to the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar. Richmond looked through the crack but could see nothing in the dark room. He ran his hand along the side of the wall and flipped on the light switch. It was the Pastors office. He slowly opened the door with Brennan in position to fire. The door squeaked open, and everyone let out a sigh of relief when they saw it was empty.
There were bookcases along the walls aligned with pictures and books of every color and size. The Pastor’s large pine desk had an old leather chair neatly pushed in behind it.
> There was a door that opened to the outside on the north wall. It was closed. It had a hand operated deadbolt that allowed the Pastor to leave, but kept unexpected visitors out.
“I’ll go check the lock,” Brennan said. He tested the deadbolt and found it locked. For good measure, he pushed the lock button on the knob just to make sure it was secure also.
A knock on the door startled him. He jumped back and leveled his gun at the door.
“Come on, Brennan. Let’s get out of here. We can block this door in the hall too,” Richmond ordered.
The knock came again. “No, wait . . . listen.” Brennan held his open palm toward Richmond. The same sequences of knocks occurred again. “That’s our knock! That’s our Den 9’s secret knock! Three knocks, then two. That may be Hayden or Dad out there. I need to let them in!”
“No! Don’t open that door!” Richmond yelled. But before he could move, Brennan had already turned the deadbolt and opened the door.
“Erik! Hey it’s, Erik! Oh no—” Brennan was jerked outside. The door flew wide open. By the time Richmond made it across the room Erik had Brennan in a headlock with his right arm, eating at his nose and face. He couldn’t shoot Erik without hitting Brennan and was forced to close the door before other members of the undead came in. Richmond sat by the door, exhausted. He was thankful that Brennan’s screams for help didn’t last very long.
Caleb stood in the doorway with Wyatt and Blakey behind him.
“I told him not to go . . . I told him.” Richmond started to cry. But no, he knew he had to be strong for the rest. He sniffed back his tears and pulled himself off the floor. “Let’s go back in the sanctuary. I want to make sure nothing is hiding in there to trap us when we check out that other door.” They were down to one weapon, Richmond’s shotgun. Brennan’s gun was outside.
The four made their way back into the main sanctuary. Richmond told the other three to wait by the altar. He made a pass down each aisle, looking across each row of pews for hiding zombies. There were no new threats.
A Fistful of Zombies: 12 Zombie Tales Page 21