A Fistful of Zombies: 12 Zombie Tales

by Dane Hatchell

  Richmond returned to the altar. Wyatt and Blakey were there, and the backpack of ammo, but no Caleb.

  “Where’s Caleb?” Richmond asked.

  “He said he was thirsty. He said he was going to drink from the baptismal,” Blakey offered innocently.

  “Hey guys! I’m up here!” said Caleb, waving both arms. A fine red velvet cloth draped in front of the baptismal covered it from view. For an actual baptism, the cloth was removed so the congregation could witness the symbolic death and resurrection of being born again.

  “There’s water in here. Come get some,” Caleb cupped his hands and slurped down a mouthful.

  “Get back here, Caleb! We haven’t finished checking the building!” Richmond yelled.

  Caleb ignored him and stuck his hands back in the water. “Ahhhhh. Water.”

  “Caleb!” Richmond’s scolding was cut short as Caleb disappeared head first into the baptismal waters.

  Water splashed violently about, wetting the red velvet cloth and the choir area. A rotting corpse rose up, grasping a flailing Caleb by his wrist. Richmond had no clear shot at the zombie.

  The animated corpse’s teeth chomped down on Caleb’s neck. His scream reverberated throughout sanctuary. In sheer panic, Richmond aimed his shotgun at the baptismal, but away from Caleb and his attacker. He pulled the trigger and blasted the left side. Glass shattered and water flooded onto the choir area, spilling Caleb and the zombie into the open.

  Caleb was free and rolled on his side away from the hungry corpse. Richmond shot three times in rapid succession. He couldn’t afford to miss. The zombie’s head and chest were blasted into the carpet, staining it black and green.

  The three raced onto the altar and then up the choir area to Caleb’s side. He spat out water and shook from his near death experience. Some of the birdshot hit the left side of his body. There was a nasty bite on his neck, and his arms and legs had cuts from landing on the broken glass.

  “Are you okay?” Blakey asked.

  “I think so. I landed on my arm. It hurts really bad.” Caleb winced in pain.

  Richmond looked at Wyatt. They both knew what was going to happen next. Richmond told Blakey to stay and took Wyatt aside to speak to him alone.

  “He’s going to turn into one of them. Just like Uncle Chris and Erik. You know what we’re going to have to do,” Richmond said.

  “But we can’t. That’s Caleb. We can’t kill him. Maybe he won’t turn into a zombie,” Wyatt reasoned.

  “We can’t take that chance,” Richmond said. Wyatt dropped his head in thought, and Richmond looked for the inner strength to kill his cousin.

  “Let’s tie Caleb up and see what happens. We’ll untie him if he doesn’t turn, or we’ll just keep him tied up until we can bring him to a doctor. A doctor may be able to cure him,” Richmond offered hope.

  “Yeah. Let’s do that,” Wyatt said, and ran off to find something to tie Caleb with.

  They found an equipment box containing many lengths of microphone cable. Richmond and Wyatt each took two.

  “Caleb. We’re going to tie you up,” Richmond said. Caleb was lying still, looking up at the ceiling. He blinked his eyes as if in hope to awake from a bad dream.

  The two went to work and tied Caleb’s legs and arms together. Making a square knot with the stiff microphone wire proved a challenge.

  Caleb closed his eyes again and seemed to drift off to sleep. Blakey bent over him, praying for his cousin not to die.

  Caleb’s eyes sprung opened wide, the red glow signaling his cross to the other side. He let out a snarl that sent the other three back several feet. The presence of evil thickened the mood and chilled the boys to the bone.

  “He’s one of them now,” Blakey said, tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Caleb twisted his head about. His teeth gnashed into thin air. The sight was almost unbearable for the three to look upon.

  “We can’t stay in this room. Caleb is going to drive us crazy,” Richmond said. He opened the ammo sack and reloaded his shot gun. “Blakey, you carry the ammo now. Wyatt, back me up and be ready hand me some shells if I have to shoot again. There’s still one more door we have to check before we can try and get some rest.”

  Richmond made sure the safety was off and that his finger was not in the trigger guard. The three headed back to the access way that led to the baptismal and the other door.

  “Okay. I’m going in. Stay close, but not too close.” Richmond opened the door and was surprised to see stairs leading down into a basement. “Great. The pull chain for the light is at the foot of the stairs.”

  There was enough light shining down the steps to where he didn’t have to worry about tripping. But his limited view of the room made him uncomfortable. He took one step and tried to peer though the darkness. He waited a little while for his eyes to adjust and took another step. Everything was quiet. He looked behind and told Wyatt to move because he was blocking some of the light.

  He was halfway down the stairs on his six step when a black hand of decaying flesh appeared from the side grabbing his gun barrel and jerked him down to the floor. Richmond landed face first at the foot of the stairs. His gun flew out of his hands, and the zombie fell on him.

  Wyatt and Blakey screamed. The jaws of the savage corpse went to work on Richmond’s back. Richmond was either dead or unconscious, as he offered no resistance.

  Wyatt was scared and thought he might have peed on himself a little. He wanted to go get the gun but was afraid of the zombie. He knew if he didn’t do something the monster would get Blakey and him next. He took a deep breath and ran down the stairs two steps at a time. The zombie continued to feed uninterrupted. Wyatt picked up the gun and placed the barrel behind its head. He pulled the trigger, and the gun lit the dark room with a blast of yellow. Wyatt didn’t have a strong enough grip on the stock, and the gun recoiled out of his hands to land on the floor.

  The zombie lay motionless, still on top of Richmond. Wyatt tried to reach the pull chain for the light but wasn’t tall enough to reach it.

  “Blakey! Come on down and help me get this thing off of Richmond,” Wyatt called. His hands stung from shooting the gun.

  Blakey walked cautiously down the steps, ready to run back up if the zombie came alive again.

  “Come on. He’s heavy.” Wyatt tried to drag it off by its coat.

  Blakey reached the floor, and together the two managed to pull the headless corpse off Richmond.

  Richmond let out a soft moan with the weight of the zombie removed. He rolled on his side, and rubbed his face. “Oh . . . my head . . . and my back . . . it’s on fire. What happened?”

  “Rich . . . it’s terrible,” Wyatt choked out.

  Richmond sat up, his hands wet from blood that had pooled around him. He looked at the blood on his hands and then at the zombie on the floor. “That thing did this to me, didn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Wyatt.

  Richmond took a deep breath and sighed. “Wyatt. You know what you are going to have to do. Don’t you?”

  “Tie you up? Like, Caleb?”

  “No. Caleb is gone. He’s one of them. And I will be too unless you kill me,” Richmond said.

  “But I can’t kill you. I can’t.”

  “I know. I know, but if you don’t then I am going to kill you and Blakey.” Richmond paused, “Bring me the gun.”

  “No.”

  Richmond’s face contorted in pain as he slowly maneuvered his body closer to the shotgun. He picked it up and laid it in his lap. “Come on, Wyatt. You gotta do it.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  Richmond took another deep breath and positioned the barrel under his chin. He stretched he reached for the trigger. He closed his eyes and hesitated. Then, dropped the barrel down by his side. “I can’t reach the trigger.”

  There was silence.

  “I can’t do this alone, Wyatt. You’ve got to help me.”

  “How do you want me to help you?” Wyatt asked.

>   “I can’t pull the trigger. I need you to pull the trigger for me.”

  “But that would be like me killing you. I can’t do that,” Wyatt said with a whimper.

  Richmond thought and lie back on his side. He moved the barrel a few inches from his head and held it tightly. “What I want you to do is to put your finger on the trigger and hold it still. I’m going to pull the barrel closer to my head. You keep your finger steady. When I pull hard enough the gun will fire.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” Wyatt said.

  “You can. You will. You must. I’m going to turn soon and you may not be able to kill me then. We need to do it now. I need you to do this with me.”

  Deep inside Wyatt had known it would come to this, and he knew Richmond was right. He sniffed back more tears. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Tell my dad that I chose to do this because I knew if he were in this situation, this is how he would do it too. Now, put your finger on the trigger.”

  Wyatt knelt on the floor and placed his finger on the trigger. Blakey shivered in the back, crying uncontrollably. Richmond slowly pulled the barrel closer to his head. Wyatt felt the trigger tighten under his finger, until it fired.

  Richmond was gone.

  Wyatt gave a brief glance at his faceless cousin, and went by Blakey’s side and hugged him. Both of them cried in a brotherly embrace.

  “We can’t stay down here. Let’s go back upstairs,” Wyatt said. Blakey nodded and picked up the ammo bag, while Wyatt retrieved the shotgun and led the way back upstairs.

  Wyatt didn’t want to go in the sanctuary where Caleb was. So, the two went back into the Pastor’s office. Wyatt wanted a door between him and the rest of the church.

  Once inside, Wyatt noticed one of the bookcases had a door partly open. Something looked unusual about it. Wyatt pulled the door open all the way. The bi-fold door led to a small bathroom, just large enough for a sink and a toilet. The two went in and turned the water on in the sink. Each took a long drink. There was some hand soap in a dish next to the sink and the wall. It was the first time the two washed their face and hands without being told. The cabinet underneath contained several hand towels. They used one to dry off and took the others to use as pillows.

  While looking for more items to use for their make shift beds, Blakey found a half-eaten box of Oreos in the Pastor’s desk. The two gobbled them down and went back for more water, and a bathroom break.

  They were so very tired, and no sounds came from the outside to scare them. A thick rug in front of a bookcase served as a mattress. The two lay next to each other and adjusted the towels to support their heads. Wyatt reached for Blakey’s hand to comfort him, and both fell fast asleep.

  * * *

  The church bells rang as they do on every Sunday morning at 10 AM. Wyatt sprung in a sitting position with his heart racing. Blakey rolled over, trying to get more comfortable. Wyatt stood and listened by the door, but could hear nothing unusual. There were no windows to look out of, but he could see daylight coming in from the cracks in the door. He was lonely and wanted to leave. He wanted to find his mom and hug her and never let her go. Dad was gone, and he didn’t know how his family was going to make it without him.

  Wyatt heard a distant noise, a banging sound. He went to the door leading to the hall and was able to hear it more clearly. He grabbed the shotgun, opened the door, and stuck his head out. The banging came from the front doors of the church.

  “Blakey. Get up. Blakey,” Wyatt said.

  “What?”

  “Get up. Someone’s knocking on the front doors.”

  “Who is it? Is someone here to save us?” Blakey wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  “I don’t know. It might be. Or it may be the dead people. I don’t know. I hope dead people don’t come out in the day time,” Wyatt said, now standing in the hall, eager and scared at the same time. “Let’s go listen by the door.”

  Blakey followed closely behind. When they passed the altar, Caleb struggled to free himself from his bonds. The two made their way silently to the door, listening for sounds beyond the banging, but heard nothing.

  There was a stained glass window that faced the side of the outside door entrance. Wyatt went to it and tried to see who was at the door. The different color glass distorted the images outside. But Wyatt could see it was a large group of people waiting to get in.

  Someone banged on the door again. Wyatt was able to make out through the distortion who it was. It looked like the Pastor! He had the same short build, and he wore a hat just like the Pastor. The woman next to him was Mrs. Jane, his wife. Behind her, he could make out Deacon John, and his wife and two kids. Of course! The church bells! It was time for church and everyone was trying to get in.

  “Blakey! We’re saved! The Pastor and everyone else are out there. Untie the rope and let them in!” Wyatt let the shotgun drop to the floor. He and Blakey hurriedly untied the knot and pulled the rope away from the door handles. The two doors opened and the bright light of the day shown upon the faces of the boys. Their smiles faded. They walked backward as the congregation approached.

  It was the Pastor and his wife. It was Deacon John and his family. The Lemoines, and the Smiths, and his best friend Harry. Every regular member of the church was there, all dressed in their Sunday best.

  But each and every one of them was dead. Dead and walking. Each scarred in their own way from the attack of the living dead that turned them. The congregation surrounded the two boys, who were too scared to even utter a cry.

  Erik too was in the crowd. He had taken Brennan’s Eagle Scout pin and stuck it in his dead flesh on the left side of his chest.

  The crowd tightened the circle around the brothers.

  Once a month the members of Grace Baptist Church came together and shared the Lord’s Supper. But never had the ‘bread’ been more soft and delicious, nor the ‘wine’ more red and satisfying.

  The End

  From Severed PRESS

  Lost World of Patagonia is a prehistoric thriller filled with murder, mayhem, and savage dinosaur action.

  From Severed PRESS

  Lost World II: Savage Patagonia is double the action, double the dinosaurs, double the fantastic adventure!!!