The Undead That Saved Christmas Vol. 2

by ed. Lyle Perez-Tinics

  “It’s empty.” She was trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Is it?” Alistair smiled like John Waters.

  Ellen turned the box upside down and looked around the room for help as her face blistered with anger. “Yes, Alistair, it is!” Samara smiled.

  “I assure you it isn’t.” He watched her as she looked into the box again. “It’s a big box of Christ, Ellen.” Ellen wrinkled her nose and curled her lips. For a moment Craig thought he saw a flash of shame cross his revered aunt’s face. Alistair laughed from deep within. “Disgust is a great look for you!” Tears formed in Ellen’s eyes. Edith grabbed her wine and tossed back all that was left.

  “What is the meaning of this?” John shook his gift and tossed it to the side. He stood up from the table. “Did you really drag us all the way out here so that you could make fools of us?” His face was as red as Saint Nick’s coat. Craig looked at Darrin, mortified at the scene that was unraveling.

  “Fools? No my dear brother, I’m not needed for that. You all do a GRAND job on your own!” The other guests stood up in anger but Craig and Darrin remained seated. Craig’s heart pounded in his chest. Dread swept over him in waves as he stared at Samara who lurched over Alistair like a gargoyle. “I’m just keeping Christ in Christmas, that’s all. Isn’t that what you want Ellen?” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together.

  “I thought you had changed Alistair! I thought your mission work in Africa had saved you but OBVIOUSLY you are just the same no good heathen you’ve always been. Mocking our Lord!” She paused. “On his birthday no less!” A tear streamed down her face.

  “Oh, I’ve been saved all right.” Samara put her hands on his shoulders. “The Zombai Tribe taught me many great things!” His eyes were wild globes of fire. “And I’m going to give you ALL what you’ve craved for SO many years – my gift to you and the world – life AFTER death!” He stood up and slammed his hands on the table. Craig and Darrin jumped in their seats.

  “Tonight all of your kin are coming home dear Ellen. In fact, they should be here any minute!” Samara leaned in and kissed him.

  “You’re mad!” Ellen was fixing her hat and looking at the other guests. “Come on! I’ve had enough. We’re leaving!” Edith nodded in agreement.

  Darrin took Craig’s hand under the table. He leaned in close. “I think we should go.” Craig was staring at his uncle and his witch. That’s what she was. He could feel it in his soul. “Craig!” The lights flickered as he turned and nodded to Darrin. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  From outside on the yard came an unholy sound – a howl – something dead being spat from the deepest part of hell. There was a brilliant flash of lighting. Thunder shook the entire house. All of the guests looked at each other in fleeting terror. Alistair laughed; a sinister maniacal sound that filled Craig’s ears and resonated inside his skull.

  “Jesus raised Lazarus. God raised Jesus and now I have raised EVERYONE!” Samara’s eyes were filled with an endless black hunger as Alistair spoke. “This is my gift to you! Jesus told us to eat of his flesh and live forever! Well, my friends, forever starts tonight!” He turned to Samara and bit off her ear. Blood splashed down the front of his shirt as she wrenched her neck and screamed. The blood flowed from her ear down onto her dress. She grabbed Alistair and threw him onto the table. In a flash she bit down onto his face tearing flesh from his cheek. He cried out in pain and lust.

  John and Joseph stood staring, mouths like donuts, in horror at the blood bath before them. The beautiful woman that had aroused them with her seductive glamour earlier in the evening was straddling their brother. She looked at them with empty eyes while she chewed the bit of cheek she had removed. Blood smeared her mouth and chin; her white teeth were merlot. Hot liquid ran down her breasts like a crimson river flowing between two mountain peaks. Her dress now marred with the blood of her lover; mixed with her own in a matrimonial elixir of death. She produced a knife from behind her back and raised it high above her head. Alistair laid his arms out to the side, mimicking that of the fallen Lord and savior, as Samara brought the knife down with all her might. His arms and legs flinched rapidly. The witch smiled as his body went limp.

  “NO!” Craig screamed. Darrin had a hold of him and was dragging him away from the table. Samara looked at them, cocked her head to the right, then brought the knife across her throat sending a spray of blood onto the table. There was a horrible gurgling sound as she took a deep fluid breath. Blood flowed from the wound in gushing spurts. She dropped the knife and fell dead on top of her lover. The room was silent. Craig stood there shaking; Darrin stared wide-eyed as blood dripped onto the hardwood floor.

  Ellen and Edith raced from the room and hauled ass down the hallway towards the front door. Ellen caught a heel on the rug and fell to the floor with a thud. Edith tumbled over the top of her crashing into the wall and landing on her back, sending an antique vase crashing to the floor. Edith groaned. She scrambled to her feet while Ellen struggled like a newborn calf to get up. The rug slipped under her heels and with great hesitance she tossed her favorite Weitzman’s to the side. “Where are your keys?” Edith bellowed.

  “They’re in my pocketbook.” Ellen said struggling to her feet.

  Edith made it to the end of the hall and tore open the coat closet. She grabbed the gold handbag from the shelf dumping the contents onto the floor as Ellen looked on, horrified. She grabbed the keys to the Cadillac. “Let’s go!”

  She opened the front door and bounded down the stairs across the yard to the car. She pushed the keyless entry remote and the Cadillac’s lights flashed as the horn bleeped in compliance. She opened the driver side door and plopped into the plush leather seats. There was a flash of lightning. The yard lit up and Edith suddenly realized that they weren’t alone. Silhouettes of every size and shape dotted the illuminated landscape. “What the..?” From the other side of the car came a blood curdling scream. The sky opened up and the rain fell in sheets.

  Ellen stood about fifteen feet from the Cadillac in the pouring rain staring at a man in front of her. Her hat was taking on water and hung over her eyes. She pushed it away to get a better look. The thing in front of her was wearing a tattered three-piece suit. What little hair it had hung in wet strings across its face. It raised an arm towards her, its long nails protruding from dead fingers. As the lightning flashed she could see that his lower jaw was without skin and all of his teeth were exposed; she shrieked. Ellen dashed towards the car as the thing lunged, grabbing her at the waist and sending her careening into the passenger side of the car; her hat fell to the ground. The dead man stepped on it, squashing it into the mud, as he leaned in close to her.

  The monster let out a low wet moan and just before it grabbed her, Ellen’s nose filled with the stench of rotten meat. She screamed as it opened its mouth and tore into her neck leaving tendons streaming behind as it pulled away. Ellen pushed the dead thing back a step and leapt onto the hood of the car. The zombie grabbed her leg as it pulled itself on top of her, smashing her face into the windshield. It bit down again; chewing at her neck like it was eating corn on the cob. Blood gushed from the wound as she struggled to grab her attacker. Her eyes bulged as she took her last breath.

  “JESUS CHRIST!” Edith pushed the power lock button on the door as she stared into Ellen’s dead eyes. “What the FUCK was that?!” Lightning ripped across the sky and through the blood stained window she could see the dead; men, women and children. They shambled towards the car; moaning, arms outstretched. They descended on the car like vultures on road kill. The Cadillac rocked back and forth in the rain as she fumbled to get the keys in the ignition. A woman in a dirty velvet dress smashed the driver’s side window. Edith cried out as the dead hand clawed at her face and neck. She slid across the front seat to the passenger side as the woman crawled through the broken window leaving a trail of dead flesh on the shards of broken glass.

  Edith flailed her arms and legs in a panic as the thing came at her; its
filthy matted hair clung to its grey face. She landed a kick right between the dead woman’s eyes. Her decaying skull split up the middle like a ripe melon; grey jelly oozed from its skull and maggots landed on the leather seat beside her. The thing howled a cry of defiance and continued towards her. The smell was overwhelming. Edith ejected Alistair’s gourmet dinner all over her dress and the front seat of the pink Caddy. The dead woman grabbed at her legs. As she fought it off she heard the sound of breaking glass. Edith felt hands around her throat and on her head; pulling her hair. There was a hissing moan and the sound of the rain. She felt a sudden tearing sensation and everything went black.

  Inside the house the lights flickered. Darrin made his way towards the dining room window leaving Craig staring at the bodies splayed out on the table. There was a low moan coming from the yard which was quickly followed by another, and then another. Darrin pulled the velvet drapery back to peer outside. At first he saw nothing in the flickering light of the gas lamps but then he caught movement near the cars. Another flash of lightning illuminated the entire yard. Ellen was splayed out across the hood of her car which was now a wet red. He could see a headless body, the neck nothing more than a bloody stump, protruding from the passenger side window. “Oh shit.” A small child in a Sunday school dress stood near the car gnawing on Edith’s head like an apple.

  “What?” Craig moved towards the window but Darrin stopped him.

  “We need to go.”

  “What do you mean?” Darrin started to explain when he heard Joseph yell.

  “My God! She’s alive! Get some towels! She’s alive!” Joseph ran to Samara’s side while John looked on.

  “She can’t be.” John protested.

  “I saw her move! Her arm moved!” He pointed at them. “Go get something for the blood!”

  “You’re seeing things Joseph!” John came in for a closer look.

  “No! Her arm moved!” He was pointing at her corpse when her eyes snapped open.

  Samara crawled forward on the table. She opened her mouth and let out a raspy moan. Alistair twitched beneath her; starting in his legs and moving to his arms. Joseph stood there watching the beautiful enchantress re-animate. He was unable to move. She fell to the floor with a thump and was still. On the table, Alistair’s shoulders twitched. His fingers flexed into a fist then released. He sat up.

  “What the FUCK?” Craig jumped. Outside something pounded on the front door. “We’re leaving NOW.” Darrin took Craig’s hand and pulled him towards the hallway.

  “Someone help me get her up.” Joseph was standing over Samara pulling at her shoulders. “Call an ambulance or something!” He was looking at his brother when Samara bit into his forearm. She tore through the sleeve of his shirt and latched onto the bone. There was a crunching sound and Joseph screamed as blood gushed from the wound all over the dead woman’s ebony skin. He pulled away from her and as he did the flesh peeled away from his arm like the skin from a banana. He fell to the floor landing on his back.

  Samara was on top of him in an instant. She opened her mouth wide revealing teeth striped with bits of flesh and marrow. She bit down on his face and jerked her head to the side ripping the nose from his face. He raised a hand in defense but she grabbed it with her own and bit off two of his fingers before going at his face again. He cried out; a dying, terrified, damp, guttural final sound, as his body went limp. Alistair stood up from the table and stretched his dead legs while John stared in horror as Samara buried her face in his brother’s innards. He turned to run and ran into Alistair. His dead brother moaned the low speech of the dead. John screamed as Alistair opened his mouth and bore down on him.

  As Darrin and Craig raced down the hallway they heard the sound of breaking glass from another room. There was a bang and a thud as the front door shook in its frame. Craig glanced into the den. Through the window he could see an ocean of bodies moving across the yard towards the house. Darrin nodded in the direction of the grand staircase. They were halfway to the top when they heard the wood frame snap and the door fly open. They stopped and stared as a stream of zombies staggered through in various stages of decay, arms outstretched as if to keep balance.

  They crowded the front hall like dead party guests. Their mouths were agape and their language was a wretched sound, both frightening and lonely. The smell of rotting flesh filled the room. Some stopped and sniffed the air around them as if taking in the aroma of fine wine while others bumped clumsily into each other and the wall. From somewhere in the other room came a terrifying scream that brought the two men out of their daze. Some of the dead shuffled off in the direction of the cry in search of the source while others headed upstairs in search of fresh meat. As the zombies ascended the stairs the Craig and Darrin ran towards the door at the end of the hall.

  Inside the master bedroom Darrin slammed the door shut. “We have to get something to barricade it!” He looked around the room. “Grab that chest!” He pointed to the foot of the bed and as he did the first of the zombie horde hit the door with a thud. The door shook. There was a thud, then another. They grabbed the chest at the foot of the bed and slid it towards the door as it opened. The first zombie through the door was a hulking giant with hands the size of meat cleavers. The undead thing lunged at Craig and knocked him to the floor. Darrin scanned the room for a weapon and found a poker near the fireplace to be his best bet. Craig struggled against the dead giant who was now within inches of his face. The thing opened its mouth and the smell of rotten fish and curdled milk took the breath from his chest, he felt bile rising in his throat as he started to heave; he closed his eyes.

  Darrin raised the poker over his head and swung it like a golf club, making contact with the giant’s head and sending a wet chunk of the thing’s skull flying off into the wall. He looked down and could see an exposed black, pulsating dead brain. He took the poker and jammed it into the opening; there was a wet sloshing sound as he wiggled the poker back and forth. He jerked the poker from the hole, taking with it the top half of the skull. The zombie collapsed onto Craig.

  More zombies rushed the door as Darrin grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet. They grabbed the chest and slammed it against the door pinning an arm in the door jam. The arm banged against the wall and clawed at the wood frantically, anxious to bring warm meat to its hungry mouth. The two men watched as the arm writhed and wiggled against its confinement and finally twisted towards the handle as if it somehow remembered what a doorknob was. The door banged again as more zombies filled the hallway and tried to push their way in. The men grabbed the oak wardrobe in the corner. They scooted it across the floor and when they were within a couple feet they tipped it on its end sending it crashing into the door. The zombie’s arm snapped off at the elbow as the door closed completely; it fell to the floor, flexed once and then went still.

  Craig and Darrin scrambled away from the door and cowered against the old record player in the corner which bumped to life. The zombies filled the hall outside with a cacophonous symphony of moans fit only for the devil his self. They pounded at the door. Outside the rain had stopped and the stars began to peak through the cold southern sky. The grass twinkled with droplets of slick rain. Alistair and Samara shambled through the front door, pausing briefly under the mistletoe as if remembering an already forgotten tradition. They moved across the porch into the yard amongst the gathering army of undead. From somewhere above came a scream, the terrified cry of the living – a sound that would soon be in danger of being snuffed out completely – and lofting from an upstairs bedroom window, within the confines of what now could only be called a mausoleum, came the deep velvety sound of Bing Crosby singing what was possibly the final rendition of “White Christmas”.

  Story Art Cover

  By Jess Smart Smiley

  www.Jess-Smiley.com

  Dedication

  Mom, your support means everything

  Author Bio

  Suzanne Robb's debut novel Z-Boat will be released by Twisted Library P
ress. She has stories in several anthologies currently out and soon to be released. In her free time she reads, watches movies, plays with her dog, and enjoys chocolate and Legos. To learn more check out http://suzannerobb.blogspot.com/

  With a Little Help from my Elves

  By Suzanne Robb

  Mark Anderson watched the men in front of him. A room full of degenerates which he would assign to a local mall to play the role of Santa. He hated this job, but he had to do it.

  “Alright everybody, gather ‘round to get your assignment.” Mark said and sighed as none of the men moved away from the refreshment table.

  Every year he made the same mistake: he put out the coffee and doughnuts before getting them to sign the contracts in triplicate, and swearing an oath to wear the red suit proudly. There were also several addendums about improper touching, drinking, drug tests, and crude jokes about hot moms.

  “Excuse me, the table will be there when we are done. I promise to buy more muffins if you get over here now.” The sound of scurrying feet could be heard as the men bum rushed Mark in an effort to get a seat.

  “My name is Mark Anderson. I recognize some faces, like Jerry over there. Let’s not have a repeat of last year’s incident with one of Santa’s little helpers,” Jerry turned bright red, and Mark made a mental note to check Jerry’s contract and follow up with his parole officer about any recent indecent exposure incidents.

  “As all of you know this is an open call for the job of mall Santa. You will each be given a uniform, and assigned a location to go and be jolly at. Your job is to be clean, not drink, be nice to the kids --- even the ones who cry and pee on you --- and most of all to assure them they will get what’s on their wish list.”