Spencer found himself unable to move. He wiped the splattered brains from his face and looked at the residue on his hands. What was happening? Was any of this real?
Katie rushed past him and grabbed a duffle bag from under the kitchen counter. She turned back to Spencer. “Spencer, snap out of it. We need you.” William quickly followed and grabbed his bag.
Anna stepped up to him and gently wiped fragments of her father’s brain from his face. Then she kissed him on the cheek. The girl, who seconds earlier had watched her father and brother get their brains blown out, whispered, “It’s okay. All we have to do is survive.”
Looking down into her face, reality rushed back to Spencer. He grabbed Anna by the hand and ran to the kitchen to grab his backpack. They always kept them packed with supplies and within reach in case they had to make a run for it. Their planning was paying off. Spencer also grabbed another rifle and headed for the door. Katie and William quickly followed.
“Where did they come from?” Katie screamed.
“They must have followed the family,” William replied. He pulled a revolver and shot the first two undead to reach the cabin. “Stick together. Head for the high country.”
Keeping Anna close to his side, Spencer fired a shot and began clearing a path of undead. “We have to make it to that path. There are caves in those mountains.” He handed Anna a pistol. “Do you know how to use it?”
Anna’s response was a shot between the eyes of an undead. She even took a moment to smile.
“Let’s go,” William ordered.
The group shot their way to the clearing. The undead were coming at them from all directions. Had they stayed in the cabin any longer, they would have been surrounded with no hope of escape. Perhaps the undead had followed Anna’s family to the cabin, but the gunshots were attracting even more. And the way the mountains echoed those shots, every undead in the county was heading in their direction. William led the way through the woods. Once on the path, they walked in a huddle and guarded their specific areas. William was in front, Katie and Anna to the sides, and Spencer to the rear. The forest was so thick that sometimes it was hard to see the undead until they were right in front of them.
“Careful,” William screamed as they reached a part of the path that skirted along the edge of a sharp embankment. The embankment was on Katie’s side, so she tried to back up a little toward Anna. That’s when her feet slipped and she fell to the ground. She began to slide over the embankment when she dug her fingers into the ground and stopped herself. William and Spencer grabbed an arm and began to pull her up. She screamed as three undead crawled up the embankment and grabbed her feet. Spencer shot one in the head, while William took care of another one. The third one held onto Katie’s left leg and quickly bit into the flesh, ripping her calf muscle from the bone. Katie wailed at the pain as both William and Spencer ended the undead’s feast with a shot to the head.
Katie cried out, then began to breathe hard. She was moments from passing out. Anna knelt down to comfort her. William and Spencer looked at each other. Both knew what this meant. Spencer tried to rationalize it. Perhaps the rip from her leg had been a clean cut and no infection had been transferred. Perhaps the infection was weakening and she could fight it off.
There was no time to debate it. The undead were shuffling toward them from all directions. “I don’t want to die,” Katie gasped. “I don’t want to die.”
William grabbed her hand and looked at the other two. “You two get out of here.” He handed Spencer all of his weapons and gear, except for the revolver. When Spencer hesitated, William screamed, “Go!”
“What about you?” Spencer asked.
“I’ll catch up. Give me a moment with her.”
Kneeling down to Katie, Spencer kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes were already beginning to change. She wasn’t going to beat it. Spencer jumped up, grabbed Anna’s hand and the two of them ran up the path. The undead that were around them were heading toward Katie and William, evidently drawn to the smell of fresh blood. Even as they got further and further away, Spencer could still hear the agonizing cries of his sister. Moments later there were two shots. When William didn’t come running over the hill, they knew the second shot had been a suicide.
“This way,” Spencer said. It was an area he knew well. He also knew there was a cave just over the next hill. They could hide in there until things settled down. They hurried along the path, but tried to remain quiet, so as to not draw attention. Perhaps they could go unnoticed and the undead would just head in another direction. To get to the cave, they had to get off the path and go through the underbrush. Just before reaching the cave there was a loud snap and Spencer fell to the ground as an excruciating pain shot up his leg. He screamed out, even though he tried not to. “Shit!”
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“I stepped into one of my traps.” He winced as wave after wave of pain washed over his body. “See if you can get it open.”
She tried to open it, but she wasn’t strong enough. Spencer slapped the ground beside him. He forgot that he had put the trap at the mouth of the cave in hopes of catching a mountain lion. He tried to push the pain out of his mind as he reached for the trap. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Over near the path, twigs broke and there was shuffling through the leaves. Spencer turned to see the undead coming in their direction. He and Anna were going to have to fight. “Give me the guns,” Spencer ordered.
Anna didn’t move.
“Anna, toss me those guns.”
She stood and her body began to shake. Instead of grabbing the guns, she turned to run, but there was nowhere to go except into the cave. She made a run for it.
Spencer tried to yell at her again, but gave up. He was going to have to get the guns himself. He crawled as far as the trap would allow him. The guns were just out of reach. Even though the pain made him feel like his heart was going to explode, he kicked at the trap, hoping to free his leg, but it was no use. The jaws were clamped too tightly. The trap had done its job. He looked up to see the undead and realized why Anna had run. Some of them had bloated sex organs that were ready for action.
A new adrenaline rushed over Spencer. He stood up, steadied himself, and went to where the trap was staked to the ground. He yanked and pulled. The undead continued to shuffle and would be there in seconds. Finally, the stake pulled out of the ground and he began to hobble toward the guns. He was able to get off two shots, destroying the two undead with rape on their mind. He didn’t have time for a third shot as one bit into his neck, infecting him with its poison.
Spencer fell back, still conscious of the world around him. He looked back at the undead, as more with bloated sex organs came down the path and turned toward the cave. He shot one in the back of the head. But there was no saving Anna. His only desire was to have sex with her that day, but now her beautiful little body was being eviscerated by the lust of the undead. He fired a couple of shots into the cave, hoping to hit Anna and put her out of her misery. A few more minutes and she would be dead anyway. Unless he wanted to become one of them, he only had once choice. He put the gun to his mouth, looked up, and said goodbye to the world.
Dying Days: Television
Armand Rosamilia
Patrick held the universal TV remote in his hand and pointed it at the blank screens until gravity forced it down. He sighed loudly (like the winner of season five's Survivor had done to psyche out the other two remaining contestants) and fell back onto the couch.
Even though the power had tripped, the backup generators were working and, therefore, the cable and satellite feeds should be working. The televisions were definitely on, because he kept turning each individual one on and off and making sure the green lights flashed before him on the wall of TV sets.
He checked his watch and was frustrated. He only had four minutes until the Amish reality show was coming on, and he needed to see if Levi was going to leave the community or stay and ask for forgiveness.
If the power was out, the third DVR in his back bedroom wouldn't record it and he'd miss an episode. That was unacceptable. He searched for his cell phone among the Entertainment Weekly magazines on the coffee table and hit speed-dial #1, which was the cable company. The phone just made a weird beeping noise, and Patrick finally tossed it down in frustration. This wasn't good.
In two hours, the pawn show marathon started. Even though he'd seen them all, he needed to sit through them again. Just in case he missed something funny or important. Tonight was also the season finale of the annoying little girl who was in the beauty pageants. He hated her and her media whore mother, but he still wanted to see if she'd win the Little Miss Kentucky Pageant. After watching an entire season, what else could he do?
"Damn," Patrick said when he realized the phone being out meant he couldn't order his Meat Lover's pizza tonight. It was Tuesday. He always ordered a pie. Tomorrow would be Chinese food, and Thursday was Jimmy Johns, followed by Friday night delivery of cheeseburgers from the corner barbeque place. Saturday was back to pizza, but always with sausage, pepperoni and onions. Sunday was another delicious order of Chinese, and Monday leftovers from the previous week.
Patrick had his life planned out. What else did he need? During the day, he could do his online copywriting job, check his stock portfolio, sell a few things on eBay, and never have to leave the house except to collect his mail, packages, and open the door for the delivery person. But now…
He wanted to scream when he looked at his laptop and saw his internet connection was lost. How would he get any work done? There were several jobs, due in the morning, he'd already finished and only needed to submit. Now he couldn't.
Through the closed blinds, he could tell the sun was going down. He didn't know his neighbors and he didn't care to know them. They weren't important. Only the real housewives in New Jersey mattered to him right now, or the Alaskan gold miners and the bad ass truckers in the ice.
Was that a scream he'd just heard? Patrick ran into his bedroom, hoping it was on the seventy-two inch wall unit he had mounted at an angle so he could see comfortably from his bed, but the screen was blank. Could it have come from outside?
He found a pair of jeans on the floor and put them on. His white t-shirt was hastily pulled over his torso and it was even tighter than he remembered it being last week when he'd put it on.
Patrick turned the front door knob but hesitated. What if someone was in trouble? What if they needed his help? This was real reality, and he didn't do well in these situations. He didn't want to have to deal, face to face, with people. It was why he worked from home, and had for years. People were opinionated, nosy, leeches and bloodsuckers who only asked you for things. No thanks. It was better to see them act like selfish brats on his television than in person.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he opened the door and took a step outside. The fresh air was a nice change from the air conditioning. It felt… well, fresh.
"Ugh," he muttered when he saw the neighbors standing in their driveway, looking right at him. Before he could turn and run back inside, the annoying wife was waving her arms at him and she and her husband came running.
"We didn't think anyone else was still around," she said. "Hi, I'm Merna."
"Nice to meet you," he lied and mumbled. There was nothing out here for him. "Did I hear a scream?"
"Yes," the husband said, looking around. "It isn't safe. It also might be too late for us to leave. On the news, it said the roads were blocked in and out of Jacksonville."
"Why?" Patrick didn't watch the news. There was really no point in it. He didn't want that much reality. School shootings, accidents, fires, police reports… all boring. There was no payoff for him, no inside scoop on the people involved. The show Cops had started him on the great reality television craze, and he never wanted to stop.
"Don't you watch the news?" The man said incredulously. "Rumor has it you have fifty TV's in your house."
Patrick laughed. "Fifty? I wish. It's only twenty-two screens. Plus three computers, two laptops, and my tablets. But not fifty. Not yet." He had been eyeing a seventy-inch plasma online, waiting for the price to drop so he could order two for the dining room.
"There are zombies," Merna said. "This is my husband Earl."
"Did you say zombies?" Patrick said and scoffed. He was done with these crazies. This was why he didn’t bother with people. They were certifiable. Like the nutty guy in season two of Big Brother.
"I know it sounds crazy, but, before the power went out, they were showing live shots from all over the country. They are taking over and eating people." Merna shivered and crossed her arms. "This isn't a joke."
"Too bad the power is out, or else you would see for yourself," Earl said. "This isn't like that zombie show on TV, either. These things are nasty and ripping people apart."
"I don't watch that show. It's not realistic enough," Patrick said.
Merna looked at him oddly. "Realistic? It's about zombies."
"It was nice meeting you," Patrick lied again. "I'm going inside to see what the fuss is about."
"You have power?"
"Yeah. I am always prepared. Not that it helps, since all the channels are out."
"Can we come in? Safety in numbers seems smart right now," Merna said.
Patrick didn't want these strangers in his home. It was bad enough when the cable guy came over to install another line. "Sorry… the place is a mess. Maybe some other time." He turned and walked as fast as he could to his house.
"Are you kidding me? We're going to die out here," the husband said.
"Sucks to be you," Patrick mumbled as he went inside. This was obviously some stupid joke, and he wasn't buying it. What if this was some reality show? A hidden camera program, maybe. He could end up being a star, but only if he played his cards right.
Patrick sat down on the couch and thought of a strategy. Would he be the in-your-face guy, brash and defiant, bruising his way to victory? Maybe he'd be the under-the-radar guy, who subtly screwed everyone around him out of the prize. He could pretend he was everyone's friend, and then find their strengths and weaknesses.
But what was the grand prize? What were the rules of the game? How could he gain the advantage and keep it? He did another click-through on the televisions, but they were all still out.
The knock at the door startled him. Patrick was going to ignore it, but then decided his best course would be to answer and play his part… he decided he would be the gullible, friendly guy and take the other contestants in with his Aww, Shucks! Attitude.
When Patrick opened the door, the neighbors were standing there.
He smiled. This was his first test, and his first screen time, unless they'd been filming him before. "Howdy neighbors."
Patrick noticed the blood spitting from Merna's neck, a shambling crowd gathering behind the couple, and the vacant look in their eyes the second before Earl wrapped his cold fingers around Patrick's neck.
Flight 509
Jaime Johnesee
I was in an airplane bathroom when it happened. I have no idea what happened, or how. I just know that when I went into the bathroom everything was fine; I came out into complete chaos. Several of the people on the plane were busy attacking the other passengers. They were biting, clawing, and, basically, mauling them to death. One of the stewardesses screamed at me to help her as one of the crazy passengers began biting into the back of her neck, but he didn't just bite her, he began to rape her. I know I should have done something, but it didn't seem as though it was worth risking my life to help her. I did what any coward would do and ducked back into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The grunts, groans, and screams were chilling and I threw up, twice. I wish I could say I'd been brave but really I was just a chicken-shit. That's why I'm writing this. I hope someone finds it and sees that I didn't have a choice. This plane is crawling with psychos and I really don't want to be bitten or raped myself.
* * * * *<
br />
It's been awhile since I last went out and things have been rather quiet. I'm starting to think that maybe they tore each other apart when they were finished with the other passengers. I'm getting antsy and am really considering opening the door and taking a look around. We are still in the air, so I am guessing the pilots are okay. I really wish I knew what was happening. Maybe the government is doing some weird test on people. Yeah, it probably sounds like some conspiracy theory or some half baked bullshit to you, but I can tell you that something is wrong here. When I boarded the flight in Detroit, I had no trepidation about it. No reason to think it would be anything other than my normal flight to Miami. See, I fly down twice a week for business and it is getting to be routine. Well, until some of the passengers went insane and started killing the others. It's just odd how so much can change in the span of fifteen minutes. I go into the bathroom with the world around me happy and light, I use the toilet, come out, and my world is a nightmare. I hope to hell whatever is going on here doesn't affect the pilots. I don't want to die in a fiery crash, although, a crash would be preferable to being eaten by another person. Are they people, though? As I bring the picture of how the plane looked when I came out of the lavatory into my mind, I notice they moved much slower than the people screaming and trying to run did. I don't really know if I can classify them as people. Cannibals for sure; psychopaths, definitely, but not people. Not anymore. Whatever happened has taken all the things that make us human right out of them.
* * * * *
I want so very badly to see what is happening out there. If they did turn on each other, perhaps, I can kill whichever ones are left and be okay. Unfortunately, as I look around me, I am not seeing anything in the bathroom that I can use as a weapon. Airline toilet paper is scary in its cheapness, but not exactly threatening. I could try getting the seat off the toilet but I'm afraid to make too much noise. They were distracted by all the tasty passengers before; I don't want them to realize I am here. I guess I'll wait a bit longer and see if I hear anything. I push my ear to the door and listen for any sounds at all. There is a light thump that lets me know someone, or something, is still moving out there. I assume it's one of those things. If it were human, it would no doubt be crying or even yelling. Unless they were trying to be quiet like me. Maybe someone survived and is trying to get the pilots to let them in the cockpit so that they can be safe too.
Still Dying 2 (Dying Days) Page 5