Zombies! Rising from the Dead

by Richard Palmer

  “Thanks, I really appreciate that, I'm just scared”, I could tell anyway by the tremble in her voice. She tried to hide it but it was impossible to mask.

  “We are going to get through this, don't you worry!” I told her once again. “Okay I'm gonna go, got to get my stuff ready and then I will be heading out, Amanda make sure you have Rick all fixed up?”

  “Okay, I will tell Rick...see you soon”, and with that the conversation was over, no more time for talk, it was all about our actions now.

  It was good to talk to Amanda. Over the last month or two she hadn't been much of a conversationalist, between her nerves and being sick off and on she simply hadn't been up to it. I figured it was a good idea to talk with her. I know Rick had been giving her pep talks but sometimes it’s good to hear encouragement from someone else.

  It was ten-thirty, time to get going. Rick lived only two miles down the road but I had to make my way to the truck and there’s no telling what other obstacles stood between my house and his.

  Walking over to the sofa I rested my hands against the backrest and spoke aloud. Well old girl this is it I patted the soft cushions, gathered my supplies and said my farewells.

  For the second and possibly last time I opened the attic door and lowered the ladder. I climbed up the dirty, narrows steps and sat my things on the ledge as I pulled myself into the confining attic space. Traversing the small area was difficult, harder still with a fully loaded shotgun. I couldn't take the extra seconds needed to load it once I was outside; that was time that I couldn't afford to waste, I would just have to be careful. I didn't want to provide those things with an easy meal by accidentally shooting myself in the face.

  I approached the small window which was just large enough for me to fit through. I opened the slates and looked out, checking to see if anything had changed over the last day or so, but everything looked much as it did from the previous day. There were still a good seventy or eighty of those things creeping about the house and yard. I could see the front of the truck peering out from under the carport.

  “No more hesitation...” I told myself.

  I took a deep breath and quietly opened the small window. The old window was hard to pry loose; it hadn't been used in years. I finally loosened the window and pushed it open. As of this very moment, every second was critical.

  I put the backpack and gun on the roof until I could safely clear the window. It was a hot summer day and the heat from the shingles burned my hands. I had no choice but to crawl on my belly to avoid detection; had I stood up those bastards would have noticed me instantly. I would have to crawl the length of the roof where it finally joined the carport; this was going to be uncomfortable. I had been on the roof for only seconds but could already feel my chest and forearms scorching from the heat of the shingles; the abrasive texture was rubbing my stomach raw.

  I quietly began to crawl along the edges of the roof, watching those undead things as they went about their business; whatever that was. I was taken back as I looked out and saw just how many of them there were, the limited vantage points from within the house had given me a false sense of my situation, only now was it plainly obvious; I could only guess at the numbers which looked to be well over a hundred. I could hear my heartbeat screaming in my ears and

  my shirt was drenched in sweat. The fight or flight instinct was telling me everything about this was wrong, telling me to run away and go back inside where it was safe. It took everything I had not turn around and scramble back inside.

  I was doing well until I reached the crevice where the roof merged with the carport. Just as I was preparing to drop down unseen and make a clean getaway, one of the creatures took notice of the movement and saw me as I was trying to get down. It was too late! Any hesitation now would only make it harder to fight my way out, or worse still end up dead in my own driveway; leaving my friends to fend for themselves. I crouched as low as I could to the end of the roof. It was a good eight foot drop even from the edge, but I needed to try and land on my feet. I didn't want to end up on my back in a prone position. I threw my backpack down and then my gun. Carefully as I could, I jumped...

  The ground was rock hard from weeks of drought. My legs and feet took the brunt as a sharp surge of pain coursed through my left leg and up into my arm. I thought for certain I had sprained my ankle. My leg gave way under the pain and I fell to one knee. It took seconds to recover. Looking up, still writhing in pain and nauseous from the experience more creatures were headed my way, having been alerted by the other. I grabbed my gun and slung my pack over my shoulder. I got to my feet, still hobbling on one leg, weak from the impact. The creatures headed towards me as I turned in the direction I needed to go to make my escape. As I turned towards the truck I was horrified. There under the carport must have been twenty undead massed around the door. I had never been able to see under the carport until now. They turned sharply had headed in my direction; faster than I would have thought them able too. I had to get moving but the truck was surrounded. Perhaps someone else would have thought to try and fight their way through, only to fall under the sheer volume; I was taking no such chances. I decided to draw them away from the vehicle by using myself as bait, but moving was still difficult. I was still limping on one foot and every step sent red hot jolts of pain up through my leg; but there were no other options. I backed off into the yard trying to draw their attention. I would get them away from the truck by hanging myself out there as bait; close enough to keep them interested but far enough to minimize any threat. I would draw them down the hill away from the house. Then I would make a run for it, doubling around the house and into the vehicle.

  What I had originally estimated to be seventy creatures was now easily a hundred. They seemed to come out of nowhere, like ghostly apparitions, always there; but only now choosing to be seen. As I dodged and lured the creatures from the truck, I still saddened by the spectacle. These corpses were dead people, but once they lived and each had their own unique attributes and individuality, and they retained that individuality even in death. The most heartbreaking thing was seeing the children. Life happens, but so does death. Death doesn't pick and choose . . . it's random. It comes to the young just as readily as the old. It doesn't have a heart to feel pity, sadness or empathy. Death is a mindless automaton with one single, all-consuming purpose.

  I was reminded of death’s nature when I saw the child in the masses of adult dead and it broke my heart. I noticed her among the others as they walked towards me, a small, demure child standing no more than four feet tall. Skinny with long, thin brunette hair; even for the monstrosity she had become she walked softly. Dressed in a little pink dress tied at the hip with a large white bow; she couldn't have been more than ten years old. So sad, knowing this had been someone's sweet little angel. Even with the flesh stripped from the right side of her face down past her neckline I could tell that she had still been a pretty little thing. She was smaller than the others and she moved briskly, her light foot falls barely audible to my ears. This poor little girl, whose life was cut so short, edged ever closer and I could see into those cold, milky eyes. She let out a faint wheeze. I had no choice as she approached. I remembered what Rick had told me so long ago. Regardless of whatever vessel it presented itself in, there was no sweet, innocent child to be found here. Just another mindless shambling hunk of meat that wanted to seek out and destroy the living....and it had to be dealt with accordingly.

  I did what I had to do; I lifted my gun bringing her young, fragile skull in my sights. With tears streaming down my face I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. The recoil of the gun jerked my arm back as her head popped like a cantaloupe, bits of skull and brain going in every direction. Her small body fell to the ground. She laid there twitching and jerking spasmodically till her body finally went silent moments later.

  That poor child; in a roundabout way had just saved my life. Something dawned on me that I hadn't known prior to this incident; a way to fight these things. Some thi
ngs from the old movies were right; if not by science, then by sheer coincidence. A brain was still needed to facilitate movement and functionality. They weren't alive per-say, but they still needed the brain to coordinate everything. The brain, just as in the living acts as a nexus and without it it's all just a jumbled mess of random signals bouncing off one another. Take out the brain and the body becomes nothing more than a twitching heap of flesh. No brain, no threat simple as that.

  I had been so preoccupied with the girl that I lost sight of my surroundings, and so focused was I on what was in front of me that I wasn't paying attention to what was behind me. I turned to hobble off and was immediately confronted with a putrid, nasty old man. Unlike the girl he had long since perished. He opened his mouth and screamed, chunks of rotten flesh hitting my face as he did. It grabbed me; I struggled to get free but with my bad leg I lost balance and fell

  to the ground. He came lumbering towards me, mouth agape and ready to take a chunk out of me. I had lost my grip on the gun when I fell, and it was well out of reach. As it stumbled towards me I kicked at it with my good leg; finally landing a solid kick hitting it squarely in the gut. It was so decayed that my leg had kicked through the damned thing and severed the emaciated spinal column. It fell to the ground, injured but not out of commission as it continued to pull itself towards me. We grappled on the ground, it lunged and grabbed at me mercilessly, seemingly unhindered by the massive blow my leg had inflicted. Finally I was able to break free of its grasp and scramble to my feet. It was a vile thing, with entrails of rancid organs plopping out of the gaping hole I had inflicted on it. My leg was covered in rancid bits of human meat swimming in thick soup of green, infectious puss.

  I got to my feet and recovered my gun and satchel; more of those undead things were closing in. I turned back to hobble around the house and draw them away but they were in front of me as well; I was quickly becoming surrounded. I raised my gun and quickly took out the closest . . . a fat, disgusting, morbidly obese female; her body swelled from the heat and putrid gases building up inside her bloated, heaving mass. Her belly exploded as I shot her in the gut, showering me in a layer of beefy intestines, the smell was nauseating and I threw up as I wiped my face of the congealed blood and spit the fine chunks from my mouth. She fell to the ground temporarily stunned.

  “One shot left...” I thought, before I had to reload.

  I wasn't moving fast, but still faster than what was after me. I rounded the house and as the next undead monster was approaching. I lifted my gun and dispatched a clean head shot with little problem; sending it to the ground trembling and shaking. My timing was perfect even with my injured foot, I was moving just fast enough to keep those things interested in me. The bum leg certainly slowed me down, but as I continued to shake off the injury I realized that it wasn't broken or even fractured, more likely I had simply strained the muscle; something I could recover from quickly with rest.

  I went on with those monsters following closely behind. I stayed well ahead of them, aided by the momentum of going downhill as I entered the backyard. I came around the side of the house and reality smacked me in the face as I stepped onto the patio; there sat everything almost exactly as we had all left it months earlier. Flashes of better times as thoughts of baseball, swimming and cute girls in bikinis filled my head. Good lord, it all seemed so distant now.

  My pace slowed, no longer aided by the force of gravity, but I was still well ahead of my decrepit pursuers. I rounded to the left of the house and started the ascent. As I had said before the house was built on a hill, with the front of the house at the top and the back of the house at the bottom. As I started back up hill towards my truck and certain salvation, my leg began to throb as gravity was now working against me. I minced my lips with each step forward, trying

  to mentally override the pain I felt.

  I made it up the hill and could see the truck sitting cozily under the carport. Only a few steps now... I can do this, I thought to myself.

  I came around the corner and walked up the two little steps inside the carport. The creatures were well behind. I thought I had an easy shot, but I rounded the tailgate only to find that there were two of them blocking my way, standing in front of the driver side door. On past those two were even more, not to mention the others that I had lured away were quickly making up for lost ground. This was it no more time to waste; it was a risk, but a calculated one. I could fend off one or two of them but not fifty…

  I lifted my gun, aimed at their heads and pulled the trigger.

  *CLICK*

  The sound was disappointing, I was so amped up on adrenaline that after the last shot I had forgotten to reload, it was all or nothing now. I ran up to them as quickly as my damaged leg would allow. They reached for me and groaned in that eerie displaced sound, they were hungry and very determined. I grabbed the nearest one and punched it twice in the face, throwing it to the ground. The second grabbed a hold of me; it had a good grip and was scratching wildly at my arm and neck. I could feel every rotten finger nail on its hand dig into my shoulder; it hurt like hell. I grabbed the knife from my back pocket, stabbing it in the forehead. As it stumbled backward I could hear the others approaching from behind as they had now managed their way onto the carport. No time to stop! I opened the truck door and hopped inside, I tried to slam the door but one of the damned things had gotten a few fingers in the door preventing it from closing.

  “YOUR ABOUT TO LOSE A HAND MOTHER FUCKER!” I screamed.

  I opened the door just enough to push the hand out of the way, then slamming the door with all my strength. I heard a crunch as a few rotten fingers were pinched off by the heavy door frame with several fingers falling to the floorboard. The door closed with a comforting click and without a thought I turned and locked it, then doing the same on the passenger side and did the same.

  I was safe inside at last!

  “HAAAAHA! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU MOTHER FUCKERS! I made it! I made it! FUCK YOU! HAAAHA!!!” I shouted. I couldn't help but to be happy, It was a small hurdle but a hurdle nonetheless, and I couldn't contain my jubilation.

  The creatures started to gather around me, it was a good-sized vehicle, a Ford F-150. They couldn't get in if they tried, but they weren't going to get the chance. I fumbled for the key and started the engine. I was relieved when it cranked without a hitch; it had sat idle for almost two months. I looked out the window at the rotting corpses, all that stood between me and them was a few inches of sheet metal and a pane of glass. It was a chilling thought just how little separated me from them. I put the truck in drive and looked at them as they clawed hopelessly on the chassis. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! EAT THIS YOU BASTARDS! I said, peeling out of the driveway without any regard. The truck bounced back and forth as I

  plowed a path through the rotting flesh that stood between me and the open road. Chests caved, heads popped and rotted organs burst under the weight of the heavy tires; I felt a sense of glee as I mowed them down. All these long weeks they had kept me locked away, a prisoner in my own home. They had been in charge, now it was my turn. I hit the open road, once again it became obvious that these things were remembering fragments of imbedded memories from their former lives, because they only seemed to be interested in houses; the highway was virtually free of any threat. There was the wandering corpse here and there, but nothing that presented a real problem. I was in the clear and on my way to Rick's. I looked back at my house as it faded into the distance; it was surrounded by more than a hundred of those things. I would never have known just how large the threat was if I hadn't gotten out. If I didn't know how well the house was fortified I would have thought it to be overrun, but looks are often deceiving and I had worked very hard to make it impenetrable; I knew it would be there when I got back. If I was really lucky perhaps those things would sense that no one was there any longer and finally disperse; but that was stretching my expectations.

  Rick's house was only a couple miles up the road and the surrounding area didn't l
ook too bad. Plants and trees weren't affected, nor were the sky and sun. You could scarcely tell that anything was wrong at all. However, if you looked closer there were hints that something was amiss, as off in the distance smoke rose from Barkley I was reminded of the undead threat again as I came upon Rick's. I rounded the corner and as I approached the number of dead began to increase like a trickle of army ants leading a path to a morsel of candy that had been carelessly discarded. I stopped the truck short of his house and pulled out my pack. I fumbled through the supplies until I found the radio buried on the bottom.

  “Hey Rick, you there? I'm sitting a little off from your house, you ready?” I didn't have to wait for his reply.

  “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” He shouted, “We have been worried sick asshole! What’s wrong can't turn on your fucking radio, or is that too hard?!” He yelled.

  “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, there wasn't anything I could do! I ran into trouble, but I'm here now,” I told him.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes I'm fine, I just had a lot more of those things to deal with than I expected. I hurt my leg getting out, but nothing serious”, I assured him.

  “Come and get us! We're ready and waiting!” I was surprised that he sounded so gun-ho; but just like myself he was a bit of an asshole in that he liked being in control. Those monsters had robbed him of that, so I figured he was ready for a bit of retribution.