No Zombies Allowed
By Lisa McCourt Hollar
First publication 2011
All rights reserved
Copyright ©2011 by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Jezri’s Nightmares
https://www.lisamccourthollar.com
This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
A Survivors Story
The Zombie Reunification Act
Beggars Night
Who’s At Death’s Door?
No Respect For The Dead
The Family Curse
The Birth of Politics
Death Goes on Strike
The Neighborhood
Dead Charlie
Afterlife
The Real Ghostbusters of Hollywood
No Zombies Allowed
A Survivor’s Story
I had been on my own for a week and was beginning to regret my decision to run away. Sure maybe my home was a takeoff of Real Housewives of Dracula, but only because my mother had been big on stage and screen. She was always trying to reclaim her glory days as the blond bimbo who succumbed to the villains of whatever B rated film she’d been cast in. Really, it wasn’t all bad at home. Even the evil hand of my step-father was better than being out in the rain; wet, hungry and not a car in sight.
Of course, if I had stayed, my concern wouldn’t be that I was wet and hungry; it would be that I was cold and hungry. It really was that bad at home. Dearest replacement daddy had tried to rape me, cornering me in the dark cellar he playfully referred to as the game room. Mommy dearest was nearly passed out from the poison she drank and had ceased being the person I could rely on to save me from the bullies of the world, especially when she now brought the bullies to me.
“I should have accepted that ride earlier,” I thought, trying not to cry when I twisted my ankle in a muddy hole. It had been invisible in the dark and I cursed my stupidity at having passed on the offer. “Granted they were a bunch of clowns, but were they really so bad I could afford to say no to a couple of would-be serial killers?”
Limping, I continued down the road, thinking it had to lead somewhere and eventually it did, leading to a borough that looked like it came out of one of my mother’s movies. I knew I was in trouble when I caught sight of the small town’ it was mostly a wasteland of rundown buildings and shacks. My first thoughts were that it had to be a ghost town. Surely no one lived in this dive. Then I saw the door to the bar open and a man come staggering out. He stopped, staring at me as though he had seen a ghost. After a moment he raised his hand and waved at me. Stumbling into the street, he headed my way, dragging a gimp leg behind. The way he moved scared me in ways I couldn’t explain, but at that moment I wished I was back in the haunted house I had grown up in, fighting Frank off. He was less scary than this man coming my way.
I was looking around for something to hit him with, when a car came careening out of the darkness, running over the man’s legs and crushing his spine. Stunned, I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I stood there, my mouth hanging open, as the car backed off of him and turned towards me. It almost seemed like a dream. I turned to run, but everything was in slow motion. Then the car was blocking my path and the door opened. I recognized the driver as the clown who tried to pick me up earlier.
“Get in!” He had his hand held out, expecting me to jump into the car with him.
“Are you insane? You ran a man over!”
“Get in,” he said again, jerking his head to indicate I should look over my shoulder and rethink his offer. This time my scream managed to find its way out of my throat. The drunk was crawling towards me, pulling himself forward with his arms. His legs were lying in the road, severed from his body, his entrails were strung across the road leaving a gory trail. This time I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed Bozo’s hand, climbing over him and into the passenger seat of the car.
“Where are your friends,” I asked, noticing the car was less crowded than before.
“Back there,” he said, swiping at his red nose with a white gloved hand. “They were eaten.”
“Eaten?” My voice indicated my doubt.
“You saw that thing.”
“I saw the drunk man you ran over. Oh my God, I’m party to a hit and run. What the hell was I thinking?”
“Drunk? He was already dead before I hit him and you would be too, if I hadn’t come along. Don’t you recognize a zombie when you see one?”
“Zombie? What is this, some kind of a prank?” I was beginning to question his sanity, but then again, maybe it was contagious, because I had seen that man pulling his way towards me, even when common sense said he should be dead. Maybe I had succumbed to small town madness. Maybe I was still home, in my own bed. Maybe Frank was still trying to fuck me, while my mom sat in a corner and giggled. Maybe…then there was a zombie in the road ahead of us and Bozo plowed him down. His head landed on the windshield and there was no mistaking the snapping teeth and glazed eyes darting about. Then the head bounced off and we were heading as far away from the town as possible.
That was how I was introduced to the zombie apocalypse. What’s your story?
The Zombie Reunification Act
“EWWW,” Tina squealed, staring at Mr. Sampson’s arm lying in the middle of the floor. The appendage had been dangling low for most of the day and some of the kids had been taking bets as to when it would fall off. Tommy Jordan cheered, yelling out the time of 1:42. He had said 1:45 and since his was the closest to the exact time, he was the winner.
Mr. Sampson stood there a moment looking at his arm, shrugged his shoulder…the one still attached and bent to pick it up. The arm made a sucking sound as he lifted it, leaving a trail of blood and gore behind on the floor, while some hung from the open cavity, dangling like strings of bloody thread.
“That is so gross,” Sissy Foreman said, looking away, then peering back at the scene, disgusted and impressed at the same time.
Mr. Sampson grunted something to the class, then walked out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s office to have the limb reattached.
That was awesome,” Tommy shouted, holding out his hand and collecting his winnings from his friends.
“It was disgusting,” Tina said, turning her dainty nose in the air. My mother called the school board and told them if they didn’t do something about Mr. Sampson she was going to pull me from the school and send me somewhere else.”
“Where would you go,” Sissy, her best friend asked, followed by gasps of “oh no’s,” from Karen Little and Susan Fynch.
“I don’t know,” Tina said, “maybe Allendale. I hear they don’t allow zombies to teach.”
“Really,” Frank Lawson asked. “I thought the Zombie Reunification Act said it was illegal to discriminate against zombies and half zombies.”
Tina sniffed, “The Zombie Reunification Act is bogus and should never have passed. It will be over turned. I heard the President was going to sign to have zombies banned from all aspects of society.”
“That’s unconstitutional,” Jimmy Becker said, standing up with an angry look on his face. Rumor had it his mother was a zombie now. No one had seen her for weeks and Sissy’s mother worked at the butcher shop: she said Jimmy’s dad had come in last week and bought a whole cow, including the brains. Then he’d bought some pig brains and sheep brains as well.”
“Are you upset because your mommy will be sent to the slaughter house?” Tina sneered. “My mother says she was always a bit strange.”
“My mom is NOT a zombie,” J
immy snarled, clenching his fist, daring anyone to say otherwise. The kids all laughed, except for Missy Black, because her father was a zombie. She didn’t want anyone to know because they might make fun of her too, so she didn’t say anything, keeping her head down and pretending to read her book. Her mom said they were probably going to move soon, somewhere where zombies were accepted. She didn’t want to leave her friends, but she didn’t want to keep lying about her family.
She wished she could make her friends understand that with the new medicine, most zombies were harmless. It didn’t help that every now and then one of them would forget to take their pill in the morning and go out and bite someone. No one wanted to risk shaking a zombies hand for fear he would rip it off and take a nice healthy bite out of one of the fingers. Missy’s dad had been working on a car when the owner decided her dad looked like a zombie treat and took a bite out of his head. Now he had a hole on one side and Missy’s mom made him wear a hat to cover it up.
Mr. Sampson cleared his throat as he entered the room, bringing the class back to attention. His arm was reattached, only now his right ear was hanging a little lower than the left and his nose looked like it was a bit wobbly. There were also a few maggots wriggling around a sore on his cheek. Sissy and Tina both squealed and looked away while Missy and Jimmy smirked at them. Jimmy hoped one of their parents would get bit by a zombie, then they would know how it felt to have a mother or father that ate brains and had strings of intestines hanging from their teeth.
Mr. Sampson turned and said something to the class. No one really understood what, since it was mostly grunts and groans, but no one was really listening anyway. They were all staring at his nose, which was now turned sideways on his face.
“Double or nothing,” Frank whispered to Tommy, hoping to win his money back “which do you think will fall off first, Mr. Sampson’s ear or his nose?”
Beggars Night
“Trick or Treat!”
Hugh stared into six pairs of eyes, each peering out from behind a mask. His stomach gurgled, loudly, reminding him he hadn’t eaten yet this evening. A ballerina in a pink tutu held an orange and black bag out, a smile on her face. She waited expectantly with all the other children. Hugh stood there a moment, debating whether it would be wise or not to eat one of the vagabonds or if he should instead dine elsewhere.
“Well,” a tall boy wearing a vampire outfit, shoved his bucket forward, shaking it at the irritated vampire.
Shutting the door, Hugh walked away, the sound of eggs breaking against his house, following him. Then silence. He wondered if they had moved on, or were performing some other inane ritual. Last Beggars Night they had covered his home in toilet paper.
“You know, you could play along, give them some candy.”
“So I can be responsible for their teeth rotting out?” Hugh glared at his teenage neighbor. He hated how she always floated into his house uninvited. It was his opinion that Ghosts had no sense of boundaries and personal space.
“It’s not their teeth you’re worried about, you don’t want them to grow up with sugar in their blood.”
“It does make the flavor too sweet,” Hugh said. Next door he could hear their childish little voices saying Trick or Treat, followed by the ground shaking and screams of panic.
“Come back, I’ve got candy treats. Here… some jellied eyeballs!” Frank Stein’s voice could be heard calling after the children, who by now were running down the road, frightened off by the lumbering monster.
“See,” Anastasia said, “Frank gets into the spirit of the holiday.”
“Go home,” Hugh said, shrugging on a coat and heading towards the door.
“I don’t know why you’re grumpy. Halloween only comes once a year. It’s a great time for the paranormal and the living world to come together. Learn a little about each other.”
“What do I need to learn? I used to be alive, I know what the living are capable of, so do you. Didn’t your boyfriend murder you?”
“It was a misunderstanding. I straightened it out.”
“How?”
“I haunted him. He’s in an insane asylum now and I go see him every day. I love how he screams my name.” Anastasia floated to the top of the room, giggling.
“Sounds like you have a perfect relationship,” Hugh said, opening the front door, “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find dinner.” Closing the door behind him, Hugh turned, nearly falling over a small witch and a trio of ghosts.
Not about to let him get away, Anastasia floated through the closed barrier. “At least I have a relationship. You bite every girl you meet… no girl is going to go out with you, if she has to worry about you sucking her blood. Oh, hello,” Anastasia said, noticing the trick or treaters.
Screaming, the three ghosts and witch ran down the street, leaving a trail of candy behind.
“Now that’s odd,” Anastasia said, “they left their treats behind.”
Sighing, Hugh continued on his way, stepping past George, who was walking down the street, his arms held straight out in front of him, moaning loudly. The vampire stared at him, shaking his head. “Not you too, George.”
“Not me, what?” The zombie asked, stopping and dropping his arms to the side.
“Tell me you are not celebrating Beggars Night.”
“Of course I’m celebrating. Missy’s out with her friends and I promised to give them a real good fright when they get over this way.”
“Hugh doesn’t like Halloween,” Anastasia said.
“Not like Halloween?” George looked appalled, nearly dropping his jaw on the ground. Catching it, he pushed his chin back into place. “How can you not like Halloween? Every respectable monster celebrates this holiday.”
“I don’t,” Hugh said, continuing on his way. Passing the cemetery where a group of ghouls were playing a game of hide and seek, he shook his head, grumbling that they had all gone insane.
Deep in thought about the dreaded night and vagabond beggars, Hugh walked through the Asian neighborhood, unaware of his surroundings. Passing one of his favorite dishes without even a glance, the young woman stared after him, wondering why the brooding man looked familiar. Rubbing her neck, she shrugged her shoulders and continued on her way.
A group of costumed children ran past Hugh, jostling each other, they ran up some steps and rang the doorbell. Cringing at the sound of their putrid sing song voices, he turned to cross the street, nearly bumping into a smaller version of the other children.
The boy was small and slower than his friends, who couldn’t be bothered to wait for the younger child. It was obvious his costume was home-made, not store bought like the others; from the wear and tear on the outfit, probably a hand me down. The Frankenstein mask was twisted sideways, revealing one eye staring out and the other eerily empty.
“Wait for me,” he called out, stepping around Hugh with a nervous glance.
“Hurry up, baby, you’re holding us up. All the best candy will be gone.”
“Why’d we have to bring him?”
“My mother made me.”
“Can’t we ditch him?”
Then the kids ran up the street while the boy tried to catch up. Hugh stared after him, memories of another small child who didn’t quite fit in, rushing out of his hidden memories, the rug he’d swept them under shifting, revealing dark basement stairs.
“Hugh, you’re such a baby,” his sister taunted him from the gloomy depths.
“Hey Hugh, your costume is the most pathetic thing I have ever seen,” Billy Thompson mocked, his sneering face rising out of the crypt.
“Hugh, are you alright?” Anastasia floated up behind him, worry in her eyes.
“I’m fine. Do you want to help me with something?”
“Sure,” the teen ghost said, smiling mischievously. “What do you have in mind?”
***
Anastasia giggled, watching the trick or treaters come down the street. A smaller boy raced behind t
hem, trying to catch up.
“Bullies,” Anastasia grumbled, her eyes darkening. When the kids neared her hiding place, she floated out of the shadows, hovering in front of them.
“Hello boys’.”
“G-g-g-ghost!” The tallest of the group, turning to run found, to his horror, a vampire standing behind him.
“I vant to suck your blood,” Hugh said, giving his best Hollywood Vampire impression.
“Vampire!” Dropping his bag of candy, the kid nearly slipped in a puddle of his own pee, in his haste to get away. His friends followed him down the street, chocolate treats falling out of their own buckets.
“You’re right,” Hugh said, laughing at the retreating figures, “Halloween is fun. Now let’s go get a bite.”
“You can eat,” Anastasia giggled, “everything I swallow goes straight through me.”
Laughing, the two headed down the street. Behind them a small boy in a Frankenstein masked scratched his head, wondering what he had just witnessed. Then he collected the candy lying on the ground and ran back home to count his loot.
Who's At Death's Door?
"Death, someone's here to see you."
Death, AKA Grim, looked up from the game he was playing and gave his mother a puzzled look as she entered his basement domain. " Me ? No one comes to see me. I go to them. That's how this works , I'm Death ."
Rolling her eyes, his mother replied, "Nevertheless, there's a man up there looking for you. Some kind of a reporter or something. He said he was sent to interview you."
"Hmmm, a reporter? That would be a pretty big coup, landing an interview with Death." Grim said, stroking his chin. "He has guts; I have to respect that, although it could set a bad precedence. If I talk to him, next thing I know everyone's going to want to come over and hang out with Death."
"I don't think you need to worry, most people don't enjoy the smell of brimstone and, uh, dirty socks." She raised her eyebrows as she pulled a pair of smelly, stiff socks out from under a pile of trash.
"My lucky socks! I've been looking for those!" Snatching them out of his mother's hand, Grim sat down on his couch, to put them on. He kicked off his sandals and scratched at his dry feet.