Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Doug Ward

Dean and I watched from around the corner as Tim ran between the ranks of the undead.  Arms waving and screaming obscenities, he kept far enough from them to stay safe but close enough to entice them to follow.  The young man avoided clusters of zombies but would soon become trapped, as they would eventually close in around him.  In his condition, he could only keep up this speed for a short while.

  "We should go," I said, looking over my shoulder at the creatures approaching from the rear.

  Tears streamed down my friend’s face as he locked eyes with me.  Wiping his cheeks with the back of his shirtsleeve, he muttered, "We can't waste his sacrifice.  He’s doing this to give us a chance."

  As he rose, I realized the bond the two of them had forged in such a short while.  It was something I had never done.  Sure, I shared deeper bonds with my wife, but I never experienced this feeling with another man, the strong ties of friendship, camaraderie.

  Checking the bag tied to my belt, we broke from our cover.  Sprinting in front of the video store, I searched for potential threats.  Dean ran at my side doing the same.

  The reanimated corpses had followed our young companion.  Three of the ones trailing far behind Tim turned at the sound of our approach.  But we had the angle on them.  We were going to make it.

  As we closed to within ten feet of our car, a badly burned zombie stumbled out of the store, blocking the passenger door.  Its back was turned toward me.  I had far too much forward momentum to change direction now.  Lowering my shoulder, I barreled into the disgusting horror just as it turned my way.  Its loose, relaxed form crumpled under the collision.  Half dried, sticky gore clung to my shoulder as the undead creature flew away from the point of impact.

  As the beast crashed to the pavement, I wheeled about, grabbing the door handle and heaving it open.  I could hear another approaching as I hopped in the seat.  Hands reached through the open door, followed by a snapping maw. I pushed back, trying to clear the way so the door would close.

  As I struggled with the undead, I saw the barrel of a shotgun slide past my face.  Leaning my head away from the weapon, I anticipated a loud discharge. My heart sank when the gun's hammer merely clicked.

  "Crap!" Dean screamed as he withdrew the weapon.  My left hand found a grip around the zombie's throat, its dull empty eyes staring into mine.  Foul liquid flowed over brown, cracked teeth and out of its gaping mouth. It ran freely down my extended arm as the undead beast's hands raked at me, trying to pull me closer for a taste.

  The corpse’s skin was slick and hard to hold.  My hand was losing its grip as the zombie thrashed about, trying to get free.  The weight of its body, combined with its strength, made my locked arm muscles burn from the exertion.   I couldn't hold out any longer.

  A hand extended past me again, this time holding a familiar snub-nosed revolver.  Two loud bangs sounded in succession as the zombie’s weight went slack.  I kicked with my legs to clear the now still corpse from the door opening.  Reaching out, I pulled the car door closed, locking it as soon as it shut.

  "That was close," Dean said, slumping back into the driver's seat.

  "Almost too close," I replied, leaning back in my own.  "Thanks!"

  "Don't mention it," he answered good-naturedly.  "But we better get moving."

  The first of the zombies that were trailing us cleared the corner of the building and were streaming toward our position.  Dean started the Nissan and threw it in reverse as I checked the package strapped to my belt.

  It was gone.  Panic spread through my body.  As the car pulled back, I saw the white pharmacy bag lying on the pavement beside the corpse I had battled at the door. The trailing undead were nearly on top of the spot where it lay.

  "The inhalers," I yelled, grabbing his shoulder with my left hand while pointing with my right.

  "Got it!" he assured, dropping the car into drive and accelerating rapidly.  We met the first zombie at the same spot we had parked before. Taking him at the knees, he fell heavily onto the hood of the car.  It crumpled under the weight of the creature. Seemingly unaware of its injuries, the zombie never let its one good eye leave the two of us, totally fixated on its prey.

  I swung the door open and leaned out, extending myself over my former nemesis.  Snagging the bag, I pulled myself back, feeling muscles I hadn't used since childhood burn with the effort.  After I slammed the door home, I reached for the locking button while watching the one-eyed undead man's progress.  He had crawled over to my side and must have been inches from reaching through the door as it closed.  His torso was leaning against the windshield, covering my view with a thick coating of some slimy substance and gore.

  Dean put the vehicle in reverse as I depressed the door lock button. A strange whirring sound emitted from the door panel.  As the car careened backward, the corpse started to slide until its extended hand reached through the opening window and found a handhold on the window frame.  I had hit the wrong button.  Two choices, and I hit the wrong freakin' one.

  My friend swung the car to the left, still going backward, spilling the reanimated predator off the hood to my side.  But the lifeless hand remained fixed on the now wide-open window.

  With both hands, I worked the buttons, finally succeeding in locking the door.  The window whined, pushing against the corpse's iron grip, unable to slide up.  Our car stopped for the briefest second, but it was time enough for its other hand to join the first at the opening.  Drawing my pistol, I hammered with the handgrip at the fingers trying to break their hold, but the lifeless being pulled itself forward, pushing with nearly ruined legs.

  The automobile shot forward again, causing the zombie to lose ground, but its hands remained firmly planted on the window frame.

  "Shoot it! Shoot it!" shouted Dean while he deftly avoided the walking dead who had refilled the parking lot.

  I hastily spun the weapon around and fired point-blank into the creature's forehead.  Red blood misted as the momentum of the car blew the liquid back, but the corpse remained, dragging along on the side of the car.  It took several tries to dislodge the fingers free of their grip in the window's opening, the body kicking wildly as it grated against the pavement.  The last digit tore free of our vehicle, sending the lifeless zombie spinning to the road.  The car bucked as we drove over some limb.  I immediately closed the offending window and slumped back into my seat.

  The reassuring silence of the cabin area brought my pulse back to normal.  As the undead fell back into the distance, a calm seemed to settle over us.  The sacrifice Tim had given us was the reason we were still alive now.

  "He knew he was going to turn into one of them," I offered, softly feeling my eyes fill with moisture.

  "I know," Dean answered softly.  "I hate this new world!"  He punctuated the last by striking the steering wheel smartly with the flat of his hand.

  We retraced our route to the main road without speaking.  Leaving each other to our own solitary grief.

  As we pulled out onto the main road once again Dean reminded me to tell him where to turn.  I assured him I would and we drove the last few miles in silent remembrance.

  Chapter 19

  Melissa