“Hold on, Chad,” April sobbed, sitting on the ground with his head in her lap. “Help is on the way.”
He nodded; his breathing was erratic, blood was pouring out of the wound on his arm, and he was getting paler by the minute.
Paul was in worse shape. He was lying on the ground less than a foot away from Chad; his throat was torn wide open, exposing dark muscle, and his eyes stared vacantly at the world. Blood no longer flowed from his body, but barely trickled.
“I’d check his pulse,” Bret muttered, motioning helplessly to the fallen man, “but the skin of his neck is gone and he’s not breathing.”
No one in the crowd of guests said anything. They just stood and watched helplessly as Chad took his last breaths in April’s arms; tears were streaming down her face and she was rocking slightly as if to try to comfort herself.
“Where did they come from?” someone finally asked aloud, voicing the thought swirling around in everyone’s mind.
Murmurs rose into the air and they spread out to investigate the appearance of the real zombies while the paramedics who’d arrived on scene tended to the downed men. It was soon discovered that two graves at the very back of the cemetery had been dug up; there were pentagrams and candles adorning the headstones of the vacant plots.
An officer, who’d arrived soon after the ambulance, walked up behind the crowd of zombie dressed onlookers.
He sighed. “Damn kids… There’s always someone thinking they can raise the dead here.”
No sooner had he finished speaking, than a scream rent the air coming from the general vicinity of the ambulance.
April, who’d been pulled off Chad’s body so the emergency crew could check him over, now fought violently to get free.
“Chad!” she screamed, finally freeing herself from the bonds of the two men holding her back.
Chad had reanimated while they were transporting his body to a gurney; he’d sunk his teeth into a paramedic’s hand, which had caused the scream.
When April reached his side, he turned blank, milky eyes on her and grinned sadistically. She realized that the man she’d thrown herself toward was no longer her loving husband, but something else . . . something sinister and evil. She halted herself, but it was too late – she was too close.
He reached up and grabbed her by the hair, drawing her close suddenly and clamping his jaws down on her shoulder.
She cried out in pain and pressed vainly against his chest in an attempt to put distance between them.
The loud boom of a gun firing overpowered the noise of the panicking people; as the shot hit its target, the top of Chad’s head exploded in a plume of blood, brain matter, and skull fragments that rained down on the people standing around him. Their mouths – which had been hanging wide open in shock – caught the gore. Many of them turned their heads to spit and vomit, but their expulsion of diseased tissue and liquid landed on those standing beside them.
“What a cluster fuck!” the officer yelled over the sounds of people retching.
Paul, who’d been place on a gurney, and had been in the process of being strapped down when Chad had attacked, sat up. He pulled off the sheet that covered his face and gripped the shoulders of a woman standing close-by with her back to him; she barely had time to whimper before he spun her around and tore out her throat, like his had been earlier.
The officer and the two people who hadn’t been bitten, sprayed with gore, or vomited on, started walking backwards in fear. They knew if all the things they’d seen in zombie movies were true, all of the other people would soon join the ranks of the undead.
The officer unloaded his gun, but missed most of his shots because he’d lost his cool. The bullets went wide and struck tree trunks and the chapel. The few that did find their intended targets penetrated the arms and legs of the people who’d been infected but hadn’t turned yet; they screamed, fell to the ground holding their wounds, and bled out. All he’d done was sped their transformation along by killing them – they would turn faster.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” one of them yelled, and the other two nodded in agreement.
They turned and ran toward where they’d parked their cars when they’d arrived. But they soon found that they couldn’t get out because the ambulance was blocking their vehicles. Desperate and not willing to give up, they tried to drive through the cemetery, only to wind up stranding their vehicles on headstones and blocking the other fleeing vehicles.
Scared and panicked even more than they’d previously been, they climbed out and started yelling at each other for their stupidity.
The noise they were making attracted April, Paul, and the others who’d turned into zombies; they moaned and stumbled toward them, eager to taste their hot flesh.
With no other options, the three living people turned to run, only to discover that more of the new zombies were behind them, surrounding them. As the undead finally reached them, they began to cry.
***
The camera on the ground recorded the colorful and violent demise of the last three living people in the cemetery.
The tape, however, was never seen, because once the zombies had finished with the few in the cemetery, they went searching for the many in the world. The undead continued to spread and soon no one cared about where it had begun – they just fought to stay alive so they could live one more day in the world of zombies.
About the story from Rebecca Besser:
“The World of Zombies first appeared in the Stories from the Chapel charity anthology in 2012, from The Living Dead Festival, LLC. The book was published to raise money to save the chapel located in the Evans City Cemetery, which is an iconic zombie symbol because of its appearance in the classic movie: Night of the Living Dead.
I wanted to keep my story fun and include the chapel, the movie, and, obviously, zombies. The World of Zombies is what I came up with. I hope you enjoyed the story!”
MY KIND OF WOMAN
By Rebecca Besser
Samuel Pope stared at the wall while he listened to his girlfriend whine on the phone; it was the same as always – she didn’t want to go because it was too dirty. Hell, everything he wanted to do was too dirty for her. Finally he got tired of it all and cut her off mid-sentence.
“I’ll just go by myself,” he growled. “I don’t need you to go anywhere with me. Why are you my girlfriend, anyway? Apparently I’m not what you want, so consider this our last conversation. Have a nice life!”
She gasped and started babbling full force, but he didn’t bother listening. With a violent stab he pressed the “end” button and she was officially out of his life forever. He knew his friends would think he was crazy, breaking up with a classy woman like her, but she was just too high maintenance. She never wanted to go and do anything that he wanted to do. All she cared about was her appearance, which was great because she looked really nice, but that didn’t make up for her boringness. He wanted a woman who would do things with him – someone who would laugh with him and have fun in life. He knew the break up was a good thing, because now he was free to do what he wanted.
Getting up, Sam took a six pack of beer out of the fridge and slid in into his soft cooler. After grabbing a blanket off the couch and his sunglasses and keys off the hall table, he was ready to go and headed for the door.
***
As Sam drove to the dirt track races, he felt liberated. He could listen to whatever music he wanted to – as loud as he wanted – without worrying about upsetting anyone. Freedom was good.
He was one of the early arrivals, he noted as he pulled into the gravel lot on the side of a hill. He chose a spot about halfway through the lot, and pulled his Chevy truck up as far as he could; the branches of the bushes standing between his truck and a row of trees brushed the front bumper as he came to a halt. After turning off the engine, he sat there for a moment. His window was down and he could smell the burgers cooking at the concession stand, he could see a group of people mingling at the top of the g
randstands, and he could hear the roaring engines of cars as they did test laps around the track. He smiled when he noticed the air was already clouding with a light mist of dirt that was thrown up by their tires.
He felt at home and at peace with himself. His heart and his mind were free of the stress of his relationship, and he planned on enjoying the night to its fullest.
Hell, he thought as he sat there smiling, maybe I’ll meet someone else tonight. My kind of woman, too, not another one of those stuffy women who don’t know how to let loose and enjoy life.
Getting out, he rolled up his window and collected his beer, blanket, and sun glasses. He thought about grabbing some ear plugs from the glove compartment, but decided not to with a shrug. No one was going to nag at him about the noise being too loud and tell him to take care of his hearing; these were his kind of people, who understood. Besides, they were his ears, and if he didn’t want to protect them it was his business.
Sam took his time walking up the hill to the gate, noting that a couple of his buddies had already arrived. Grinning, he paid his entry fee and let a woman stamp his hand.
He walked to the top of the grandstands, which was level with the concession booth, and looked down at the seats and the people who were already there. Spotting Bill – his best friend from high school – about half way down and in the center, he headed that way.
“Hey, you old goat,” Sam jeered as he stepped up behind him. “Did you save me a seat?”
Bill looked up at him grinning. “No, you have to sit in a port-a-potty tonight.”
Sam laughed and spread his blanket over the old boards that made up the grandstands. The gray paint was peeling and they needed attention, but no one seemed to mind, bringing blankets and cushions to sit on. They were country people, rednecks as some people liked to call them. But the truth was, they were people who knew what really mattered in life, like spending time with friends and family, even if it wasn’t in the shiniest, most beautiful places on the planet.
“Where’s Diane?” Bill asked, cracking open a beer.
“She’s wherever she wants to be,” Sam said, sitting down. “I broke up with her.”
Bill was silent for a couple of minutes, taking multiple swallows of beer before shrugging. “She was a bitch anyway.”
Sam laughed. “Gee, tell me how you really feel.”
Bill grinned and turned to wave at someone at the bottom of the stands who had just yelled his name. A man Sam didn’t know made his way up to them and started chatting with Bill, leaving Sam time to look around.
More people were arriving, filling the stands quickly. Some had brought lawn chairs and were setting up in the grass on the other side of the fence; the area set aside for that purpose. He wasn’t too concerned about the crowd, not seeing anyone else he knew.
Bending forward, Sam pulled out a beer, opened it, and took a long drink of the ice cold brew. As he was swallowing, he saw a pink camouflage hat flash in the corner of his eye. Turning, he examined the wearer. She was a cute little brunette. She had a generous hour glass figure – not too big, but not too little. He hated skinny women. They were always worrying about their weight and what they ate. He liked real women, the kind that would sit down and have a cheeseburger and onion rings and actually enjoy herself, which made him wonder why he’d stayed with Diane so long. Shaking off that thought, he watched the brunette, hoping to get a glimpse of her face.
She laughed and turned to say something to an elderly couple she was trying to get past so she could sit in an empty area of the stands. She had dark eyes, round cheeks, and pink lips. Cute as a button, he thought to himself. Fleetingly, he wondered what her name was.
“What’re you staring at?” Bill asked, elbowing Sam in the side; he followed Sam’s line of vision and noticed the woman as well. “Ah, I see. She’s cute. Has a nice ass, too.”
Sam shook his head and drank some more beer.
“Who’s racing tonight?” he asked.
Bill smirked, knowing Sam was changing the subject so he wouldn’t get picked on. Being his friend, he let him. They spent the next half hour talking about who was racing, whose car was broke down and wouldn’t make it, and the general line up for the night. They knew most of the crews and drivers.
Every few minutes, Sam glanced over at the woman in the pink hat to see if a man showed up to sit with her; it looked like she was alone. He also noticed that she was reading a book while she waited for the races to start. Something about that made him lose a little bit of interest in her. He wasn’t into bookworms. She can’t be all bad, he thought, arguing with himself, she’s here after all. Maybe she’s a girlfriend of one of the drivers or something, and has just come as moral support. Despite the book and her possible relationship with a driver, he had a hard time putting her out of his mind while he waited for the races to start.
The afternoon sun was beating down hard on the track when the water tanker started making its rounds five minutes later, wetting the dirt to prepare for the races. Everyone started making trips to the concession stand and to the port-a-potties lining the fence by the entrance gate. Sam took his turn as well. He wanted to be comfortable and ready to sit down and watch the races when they started.
After doing his business in the chemical-smelling-portable-bathroom, Sam made his way over and got in line to get something to eat. He noted with pleasure that they had Italian Sausage sandwiches on special – his favorite. Thinking about his upcoming meal, he didn’t pay much attention to the people around him, and he didn’t notice his sunglasses slip out of his back pocket when he accidently bumped against the counter.
“Excuse me, sir,” a woman said from behind him. “You dropped these.”
Sam turned to see the brunette in the pink hat, her pink lips curved in a polite smile.
“Uh, thanks,” he muttered, taken aback for a moment.
She handed him the glasses, nodded, and turned to look at the menu board.
“Have you been here before? I haven’t seen you around . . .” Sam said, trying to make small talk.
“No,” she said, smiling at him again. “I’ve been wanting to come for a while, but I haven’t had a chance.”
Sam liked the sound of her voice; it was soft and sweet. “Are you dating a driver or something? I didn’t see anyone come with you.”
She frowned and looked down, before glancing at him briefly and returning her attention to the menu board like it was really important. “No. I’m not dating a driver.”
He felt awkward and mentally berating himself for seeming like an overeager, immature boy by jumping onto the boyfriend subject. She probably thought he was some kind of weirdo, hitting on any random woman he could get to talk to him.
“The Italian Sausage sandwiches are really good,” he blurted, “if you don’t know what to get.”
She laughed and turned to him with a grin. “Actually, I was thinking of getting one. Thanks for letting me know. Are the onion rings any good here? I was thinking of getting those, too.”
Sam grinned back. “They’re great, especially with barbeque sauce.”
She giggled. “Barbeque is my favorite.”
As the line shuffled forward, they chatted amiably about food likes and dislikes. He loved the way her eyes danced when she laughed and her taste in food. Too soon, they’d made their purchases and were parting ways. He was still grinning when he sat down with his two sandwiches, an order of onion rings and barbeque sauce, and a beer in a clear plastic cup.
“What are you grinning about?” Bill asked. “You look like a love sick teen!”
“I was talking to . . .” Sam stopped as he realized he hadn’t even asked the woman’s name. “Shit!”
“You were talking to shit?” Bill asked with a grin. “So, would that be a shit talking grin, instead of a shit eating one?”
Sam gave Bill an exasperated look. “No, I was talking to the woman in the pink hat – she was behind me in line. I just realized that I didn’t catch her name. I’m such a
n ass!”
Bill opened his mouth to retort but the announcer came across the loud speaker and began to announce the first race, drowning out all other noise.
Sam ate his sandwiches and onion rings while the cars pulled out onto the track and took one lap before settling into their positions behind the starting line. He couldn’t help but glance to his right and try to see the woman. She was eating heartily, watching the cars with mild interest. He didn’t know why, but he still couldn’t get her off his mind and it was making it hard for him to concentrate on the cars speeding around the track.
After the first three races, Sam was getting the call of nature pretty bad from all the beer he’d been drinking. Even though it was now dark, the temperature was still in the high eighties and he was sweating profusely. But this didn’t stop him from having to go, it just slowed it down a bit.
Standing, he made his way up the stands and out to the port-a-potties; there wasn’t much of a line because the races were still going. When they stopped for a break before the main event, the lines would be terrible, so he knew he’d chosen a good time to go.
He came out from a blue-plastic-stall to hear moaning and scuffling from behind the row of individual bathrooms. Curious as to the cause, he peeked around the corner to see a woman pinned to the ground, her wrists held above her head, panting and squirming. The man on top of her was positioned between her bent legs, with his face buried in her neck as she bucked wildly; it was too dark for him to see if they had any of their clothes off, but just the sounds they were making and their actions were getting him hot. Fleetingly, an image of him doing that with the brunette crossed his mind and aroused him.
He made up his mind on his way back to his seat that he would get her phone number and find out her name before he left tonight. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in a long time and he wasn’t just going to walk away.
Zombies Inside Page 4