A Very Dystopian Holiday Reader

by Dan O'Brien

  A whir chirped at first.

  The sound built.

  The terminal scribbled to life.

  Blinking lights and light static filled the air.

  Allen stepped forward, his eyes wide.

  “It’s working.”

  “Send out what we talked about and let’s get the fuck out of here,” ordered Dan.

  Jesse leaned over the terminal once more, pressing buttons and moving dials. There was a small amount of static and then a buzzing.

  “I think we have something.”

  The static rose.

  This time it doubled in intensity.

  And then again.

  And again.

  “Something is wrong,” warned Dan.

  “Fuck,” spoke Jesse with a concerned look on his face.

  Dan looked at his brother incredulously. He never swore. That was when the static became something else altogether. The terminal began to smoke.

  “Shut it down,” yelled Dan.

  Jesse shook his head as the generator shuddered and then stopped. The wailing of the static was deafening.

  “What the fuck is that?” shouted Allen.

  “The transformer is blown,” replied Jesse loudly.

  “Can we stop it?” asked the elder sibling, closing one of his eyes from the noise.

  Jesse shook his head.

  “This isn’t good,” offered Allen with a shout.

  “No. No it is not,” replied Dan with a grimace.

  Track 11

  Thunderstruck

  T

  he city streets had been quiet. Zombies looked up, and then more zombies. They were looking into the distance: the Tower.

  *

  Deep in the forest––hidden amongst trees and shadows––a horde of zombies feasted. Some of them looked up from devouring something, blood smeared across their gruesome faces. They began to move.

  They ran.

  They trampled over one another.

  They were coming.

  *

  Outside of the Tower, Kenny covered his ears.

  The sound of the static erupting from the Tower was deafening. “What the fuck is that?” whispered the giant in a muffled voice.

  Will continued to spray. Ear buds in his ears, the music thumped along strong. He painted in wide, uneven strokes.

  A zombie caught him off guard.

  One moment it wasn’t there, and then the next moment it was. Panicked, he fell back and sprayed the zombie in the face. Covering its face, the zombie snarled and screamed. Will lifted up his assault rifle and unloaded it into the thing’s face until it fell on the ground, nearly emptying a clip into it. He came running around the corner as Kenny was still holding his ears. Will removed his ear buds and his hands immediately went to his ears as well.

  “What the fuck,” he screamed.

  Kenny shook his head, pointing to his ears.

  *

  Brandon grimaced at the noise and lifted his legs from the window sill. He bent over and looked through the scope, his eyes widening. From a distance, he saw what lurked at the edge of River’s Bend: zombies.

  *

  Dan had his rifle at his shoulder, as did Jesse and Allen. They looked at each other with grim expressions. When Brandon’s voice came over the radio, they were not surprised by what he said. “Zombies. A shit-ton of zombies. They are coming. Do you hear me?”

  Dan looked at his brother and exited into the stairwell.

  *

  Kenny looked around in a panic.

  The noise was not subsiding.

  He drew the riot shotgun in a panic.

  One zombie emerged at first, slowly.

  And then another.

  Will walked closer to Kenny, and that was when they saw the zombie horde. Hundreds wide and who knows how many deep began to emerge at the edge of the street.

  “Fuck.”

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck. Fucking, fuck, fucking mother fuck,” began Kenny wildly. Kenny leaned into his radio, but before he could speak he heard the sound of the .50 cal ring out in the air.

  A round ripped through the first rank of their running, flailing bodies. Tripping, bumbling, they rolled over each other as the ones behind them charged forward in a mad rush of arms and decaying flesh.

  “Get to the van. Get to the fucking van,” yelled Kenny.

  Will looked at the giant in panic and ran to the van, sliding in the driver’s seat and starting it up. With a manic spin, he backed it up to the door of the Tower. He looked out the back through the open, swinging doors.

  “Get the fuck in.”

  *

  Allen led the way down the stairwell, his face serious. Dan was just behind him; his brother the farthest back. They moved quickly. As they did, Dan stumbled and caught his necklace on the side of the banister, which pulled free. He continued forward, not noticing. The ring tumbled down the staircase, stopping at the bottom of the stairwell.

  *

  Kenny stood his ground, carefully shooting into the crowd of zombies as they mobbed forward. Round after round exploded from a distance as Brandon lent aid to the assault. Will hung out the side of the driver’s door, tearing through rounds in a panicked frenzy.

  Dan and the others emerged from the front of the building. “Conserve your rounds,” he commanded. Will looked back and smiled as he loaded another clip into his weapon.

  The zombies were almost on top of them now.

  Dan, Jesse, and Allen lined up in front of the building. Weapons at the ready––looking down their sights––they pulled the trigger in succession. Each round found its way into a zombie, rolling them on top of each other in a bloody mass.

  “We can’t hold them here,” called Kenny.

  Dan continued to fire, only half-hearing his friend. Will was in the van again, blaring on the horn, trying to bring them out of their stand.

  “We have to go, Dan. We have to go,” urged Allen.

  Dan nodded grimly. “Fall back.”

  Jesse nodded and jumped into the back of the van.

  Allen followed suit.

  As Dan stepped forward, his hand went to his chest instinctively. He did not feel the necklace. Looking down at the ground in panic, he did not see it. Turning, he ran back into the building, bounding up the steps in a manic run.

  “Dan,” yelled Jesse.

  Kenny turned around and saw Dan run back into the tower. “Go. Go. I will get Dan. Grab Eagle Eye.”

  Allen pulled the back doors of the van closed as Will hammered the gas, vaulting the van forward.

  In the lobby of the tower, Dan looked around on the ground feverishly. “Where the fuck is it? Where the fuck is it?”

  Kenny pushed through the doors. “What the fuck are you doing? That mess is headed this way. We have to get the fuck out of here.”

  Dan did not even look up.

  He continued searching the ground.

  Kenny covered the distance and grabbed his friend.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Dan pushed away his grip angrily.

  “The ring.”

  “What fucking ring?”

  “Her ring. Mary’s ring.”

  Kenny realized in that moment why his friend went back, and it showed in his face. Dan moved toward the stairwell doors, seeing the reflective gold ring lying at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes were glassy as he pushed through.

  Bending over, he picked it up.

  His cheek muscles flexed angrily as he pushed it on his pinky finger. Kenny looked out the front of the building.

  There wasn’t time.

  They were here.

  Track 12

  Carry on my Wayward Son

  T

  he van careened through the throng of zombies, mowing them down. A mass of zombies slammed into the side of the van, knocking it off its gait––slipping it from its course.

  Will turned the wheel in a panic.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  Allen was
up at the windshield.

  “Oh fuck….”

  The mob of zombies surrounded the van, beating on the sides of it. They climbed on top, smashing against the windshield as they tried to get in.

  *

  Brandon moved his scope toward the zombies. He pulled the trigger, a round ripping a zombie off the van, and then another.

  And another.

  *

  Zombies exploded through the front of the lobby door. Dan emerged from the stairwell, his assault rifle at his shoulder.

  “Fall back to me.”

  Kenny had his chainsaw out, the blade howling hungrily. The zombies were on him immediately. He drove the chainsaw into the front-most zombie, holding him at a distance. With his free hand, Kenny drew his handgun and unloaded it into the zombies that tried to leap over their trapped brethren.

  Round after round, Dan plugged zombies in the hole that had once been a door. But, they kept coming. Kenny let off the trigger of the chainsaw and pulled the trapped zombie in front of him like a shield. With a roar, he pushed forward, driving back a mass of the zombies. He shot the disfigured faces as they emerged from atop his undead barrier.

  The one that he was not watching––as was always the case––got the better of him. Climbing up Kenny’s back, the scrambler took a vicious bite out of his shoulder. As he engaged the chainsaw again, he jabbed it into the face of the zombie that just bit him.

  “Kenny.”

  Dan moved forward, forcing the zombies back by stacking the entrance with their bodies. As he got to Kenny, he unloaded on the few zombies that were still lingering around his friend.

  “That fucking deadhead bit me.”

  Dan looked down at the wound and grimaced. He could already see that the putrid saliva of the zombie had infected the wound. “Come on, man, fall back to the stairwell.”

  Kenny acquiesced with a groan and fell in behind Dan, stumbling toward the stairwell. The elder brother walked backward, unloading careful rounds into the zombies that emerged through the small hole just above the pile of bodies at the entrance.

  Kenny pushed through the doors of the stairwell, blood running down his arm. He took to the stairs with a sigh. As he reached the first floor––just above the first set of stairs––he collapsed against the wall.

  Dan was there in a flash.

  Kenny slid down the wall with a groan, kicking out his legs. He was crying softly. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t want to come back.” He was pleading now. “I don’t want to come back like that. Don’t let me come back like that.”

  Dan’s eyes misted.

  Kenny had little time left.

  “I won’t let you.”

  Kenny sniffed hard, wiping a bloody hand across his face. “I’m scared, man. I’m scared.”

  Dan reached out and touched his shoulder.

  “I know.”

  Dark lines were beginning to spread from the wound. Dan could hear the zombies breaking through, scurrying across the floor. “Close your eyes, man. Everything is going to be fine. You are going to be fine.”

  Kenny sniffed again, holding back a sob. “The keys are in the Bronco, if you can get out of here. I left them in the ignition. Fucking stupid, I know.”

  “Deadheads can’t drive. It was smart, it might save my life.”

  Dan laughed.

  Tears streamed down Kenny’s face. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry about Mary. I’m sorry about what happened to this world.”

  Dan touched his friend’s shoulder.

  “Close your eyes, Kenny….”

  Kenny nodded, reaching out his hand. Dan grabbed it, and with his other hand pulled free the handgun at his side. “I love you, man. Tell them I was strong.”

  Dan nodded.

  Gripping his friend’s hand tight, he placed the barrel on Kenny’s forehead. Dan pulled the trigger and his friend’s body convulsed one last time.

  For a moment he sat there, the world numb.

  Crash.

  The glass doors of the stairwell broke.

  Dan stood up slowly.

  Replacing the handgun on his belt, he picked up his assault rifle. Their dead eyes emerged at the bottom of the stairs, and he opened fire.

  “Motherfuckers.”

  His voice was low.

  They fell below him.

  He riddled their dead bodies with more bullets. Looking down at his friend, he ran up the stairs and grasped the handle of the second floor door, opening it with a heavy, angry grunt.

  Dan ran across the open second floor, his breath ragged. He reached the far side of the room and could hear the zombies in the stairwell; screaming and beating on the door trying to open it.

  There was a long glass window, wall to wall. You know what he is going to do. Lowering his shoulder, he ran at full speed.

  After he broke through the widow, his body fell. His journey ended as he collapsed the roof of an abandoned car below. Rolling free, the horde that had been beating against the entrance turned. Dan pushed himself to his feet, staggering backwards as zombies snarled and galloped toward him.

  They groaned hungrily.

  With a groan himself, he lifted his weapon and unloaded it––round by round––as he stepped backwards. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he tried to spy the Bronco in the back of his vision.

  He let a clip fall loose and grabbed another.

  Blam.

  Blam.

  “This is Eagle. I have you, boss.” The round ripped forward, annihilating a zombie with deafening precision, and then another.

  Dan turned and ran then, his legs churning beneath him. As he neared the Bronco, he slammed against the hood and threw himself over––his eyes wild. He rounded the driver’s side. Abandoning the door handle altogether, he entered through the open window. Turning over the engine, it started with a loud roar.

  “Eagle Eye, I’m coming to you. Be downstairs.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Dan slammed the Bronco forward, the black, adjustable steel plow colliding into the mob of zombies. Slicing, ripping, and crushing them under tire, he screamed forward.

  Track 13

  Don’t Stop Believing

  T

  he interior of the van was in a panic. “Move this fucking vehicle,” yelled Allen. Will turned the steering wheel, moving the van just a few feet before zombies––underfoot and in tow––jammed them up once more.

  “Fuck man, there is nothing I can do.”

  Will stuck his automatic rifle out the window and opened fire, ripping apart zombies as they sprinted at the van. They collided with the reinforced exterior. Allen continued his assault out the passenger window. Jesse rolled back a small panel––extending the barrel of his rifle through––and exploded rounds into the throng.

  *

  The Bronco barreled through the street, crushing and maiming as it found a path. Inside, Dan slammed his fists against the wheel as he ran down anything that got in his way. “Motherfucker. Motherfuckers. I fucking hate this. I hate this fucking place….”

  He turned the wheel hard, bringing the Bronco off the ground for a moment as he spied Brandon emerging from a distant building. He stood his ground. The .50 caliber was beside him as he held another rifle to his shoulder, firing it with deadly precision. Brandon saw the Bronco coming and ran forward––right at it.

  “I hate these fucking things. I hate these fucking things,” mumbled Dan.

  He cranked on the wheel, bringing the passenger side close to where Brandon was running. The smaller man reached out, his body bouncing off the door slightly as he held onto the window frame. The Bronco continued forward as Brandon pulled himself in with a grunt.

  “That was fucking close.” Brandon looked around the Bronco. “Where the fuck is Kenny?”

  Dan looked forward, his foot pressed hard against the pedal. “Kenny is gone.”

  Brandon stared forward numbly. “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  *

  The van was surrounded.


  Zombies were all around.

  They rocked the vehicle back and forth.

  The sound of the Bronco’s engine filled the air.

  Some zombies even turned to see it approach.

  It crashed through a wall of the aforementioned undead in front of the van. Whipping around, it began to charge in reverse––trapping zombies behind it. The van exploded forward, following the Bronco as it drove backwards down the street, taking out zombies in its path.

  Dan craned his neck, one arm over the passenger’s seat as he swung the wheel this way and that, attempting to pinball zombies. As he emerged into an open street, he cranked on the wheel and tried to whip it around. It was a mistake that would cause him to lose control of the vehicle.

  “Fuck,” roared Dan.

  Brandon covered his face as the Bronco shifted and collided into a corner store. From inside the van, Will watched the Bronco hit the wall. “Motherfucker….”

  Allen leaned forward and was out of the van as it pulled up behind the Bronco. Yanking open the door of the Bronco, Dan fell out. The groans of the zombies had redoubled. They were emerging from the street just beyond the one that they had left. Dan staggered forward and Brandon rounded the side of the Bronco, limping.

  “Brandon, come on,” urged Allen.

  Brandon collapsed just inside the van.

  Allen pulled Dan in.

  Pulling the door shut, he slapped Will on the shoulder.

  The van was in motion once more. Will drove like a maniac––which was not really out of the ordinary––and kept looking back over his shoulder. Jesse helped Brandon to the small bed. There was a slowly expanding stain of blood on his arm.

  “What happened here?” asked the younger brother concisely.

  Brandon was slightly out of breath. “I don’t know. Too much happened at once. It could be from anything.”

  Dan sat with his back against the passenger seat.