Zombie Variations
by Anthea Strezze
Copyright © 2012 Anthea Strezze
The Trouble With Wishes
Refuge: Tales from a Zombie Apocalypse
Zombie Variations
For the author's blog, visit https://AntheaStrezze.com/blog.
The following is a work of fiction, and all names, places, characters and events are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real locales, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover created by Anthea Strezze using art licensed from "Socrates" via Dreamstime.com.
~~*~~
Many thanks to all of the friends and family who stuck with me through the story a week challenge, and have encouraged and supported me since.
~~*~~
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Zombie's Cat
Alone in the Dark
The Last Day of School
Short Story Collections by Anthea Strezze
About the Author
~~*~~
The Zombie's Cat
Derrick woke to a world of pain, not that that was unusual the night after a party.
The hunger was new, though. Terrible, ravenous hunger.
And a wonderful smell... Had his asshole of a roommate made breakfast? More importantly, was there any left?
He staggered down the short hall to the kitchen, but there was nothing there, just a few dishes molding away in the sink. He opened the refrigerator, wondering if he was up to cooking for himself. Maybe scrambled eggs? The idea was strangely unappealing, and all the eggs were gone anyway.
"Rrrow-ow-yow!"
He looked down to see Tigger staring up at him with that familiar demanding look, and habit sent him into the pantry.
He fumbled with the can, trying to get the pull-tab up. Instead, it dented and deformed under his fingers until he finally gripped the can with both hands and tore the metal apart in frustration. He stared at the mess in confusion for a moment before dumping it all into Tigger's bowl.
Let the cat figure it out. He needed to find the source of that delicious smell.
"Finally! Do you know what time that furry demon woke me up this morning? I swear, one of these days I'm going to kick that cat right into next week." His roommate was in the kitchen now, making coffee and being his usual arrogant self.
"Touch my cat and I'll kill you." The words were such a habit that it took Derrick a moment to realize that all that had come out of his mouth was a groan.
His roommate glanced over. "Dude! You look like death warmed over. I guess I missed a hell of a party last night. What time did you even get in?"
Had there been a party? He couldn't remember. He also couldn't remember why he hadn't already killed his egg-stealing, cat-hating jerk of a roommate before this. He felt like there had been a reason, a good one, but he couldn't quite think of what it was. He shook his head, wondering why it was so hard to think...
It had to be that smell. The odor was so distracting he couldn't think about anything else, so intense that it was even drowning out the pain. "What is that?" he tried to ask, but all that came out was another moan.
"Dude, are you ok?"
His roommate was closer now, peering up into his eyes. So close...
Derrick stopped trying to think. He reached out and took the other man's head in both hands, and cracked his skull open like a peanut shell. That glorious smell flooded the room, and he grabbed a handful of brains and shoved them into his mouth.
When it was gone he crouched over the body, licking the brain cavity, and wondered where he was going to get more.
"Mrrrow?"
It was Tigger, fur puffed out and sniffing delicately at the blood pooling on the floor. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed.
Would any brains do?
He picked her up and inhaled deeply, then snuffled along the back of her head to be sure.
Nothing.
The cat kneaded at his arm and started purring. Derrick petted her absently, habit guiding his hand while he pondered what to do next. Were the neighbors at home? Loud, obnoxious neighbors who had shouting matches in the middle of the night and then called the cops on him when he had a few friends over deserved to have their brains eaten. Especially that guy, with his muscles, and his crew cut, and his holier-than-thou attitude.
He opened the door, not even noticing that he broke the frame instead of turning the knob. In the hall, he paused to sniff. There it was, the seductive smell of brains coming from the apartment across the landing. He walked over and rang the bell.
"Who is it?" The man's voice, shouting again.
The peephole flickered, light temporarily blocked by someone looking out. "It's one of the guys from next door!" The woman's voice, shouting back at him. Then the door opened, and she looked up at Derrick with a wary look. "Um, hi?"
He realized his hands were full and held the purring cat out to her.
She took Tigger into her arms gently, holding her close. "Your cat? Is something wrong?"
Hands free now, he reached out and popped her skull open, pulling her body close so that he didn't have to wait a second longer to start shoveling those lovely brains into his mouth.
***
Travis Jones had never watched a zombie movie or prepared for the zombie apocalypse, but you couldn't live and work in modern America without hearing all about them. And he knew that when the college kid from across the hall showed up at the door with impossible strength and a hunger for brains, you didn't stop to ask him why.
As an EMT, he didn't have to stop and wonder whether he could save his wife either, not with her skull cracked open and her brain already a mangled mess in the neighbor's hand. He couldn't save her, but if he was fast enough, she had given him a way to save himself.
He ran to her gun safe, using every trick he had ever learned for staying calm on the job to keep his hands steady while he unlocked it and loaded the pistol. He had hated every moment of shooting practice, arguing with Melly that it was his job to save lives, not take them. Now, though, he blessed her for insisting.
Gun loaded, he took careful aim, pushing down the horror he felt when he realized the kid was licking the inside of Melly's skull. One more deep breath, and then he squeezed the trigger, blowing a neat hole through the zombie's forehead that spattered bits of brain and bone across the doorway and into the hall.
He edged closer, certain that it wasn't that easy, it couldn't be that easy.
He had to be sure, but...
Travis backed into the kitchen to grab the broom and reversed it, cautiously stepping close enough to wedge the end against the kid's shoulder and roll his body to the side.
Sudden motion made him jump back, dropping the broom and bringing the pistol back up in a two handed grip. Then he realized it was only the neighbor's cat, pulling herself out from between the bodies.
He sagged against the wall, looking at the phone and trying to bring himself to dial 911. What would he say? What could he say, that anyone would believe?
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer, and he hoped it was because the neighbors had already called. He flipped the safety on before laying Melly's pistol on the counter, and then slid down the wall to sit and wait for the police.
The cat flopped down on the carpet, stuck out one leg, and started cleaning her fur.
~~*~~
Alone in the Dark
He opened his eyes on darkness.
At first he was confused. He couldn't even remember his own name, let alone where he was.
Then he remembered dying, and he panicked. Kicking and clawing, he was certain that the darkness and pressure must be from dirt surrounding him, that he had been left for d
ead and then buried.
Left for dead?
He paused in his frantic struggle at the thought. He could remember fighting zombies, trying to give his family time to get away from them. He could remember the hand holding his throat like a vise, and the agony of having his arm twisted clear off his body just before he died. The only reason they would have left him for dead was because he was dead, and from what he had seen, his body would have risen as one of the zombies before anyone would have had a chance to bury it.
So where was he?
He tried to call out, but there was no air in his lungs. There was a sound, now that he was listening, though - a frantic thumping sound. Another prisoner?
He tried to thump back, kicking and punching with all his might, but the surface surrounding him was soft and giving, with no sense of any hard surface that would carry his message. I'm alive, he thought. Let me out! I'm alive!
There was the sound of screaming in the distance, and he tried again to scream back, but to no avail.
Struggling there in the dark, he started remembering more. After he died, there was an endless sensation of struggling in the dark, of being surrounded by other people who were stronger than him, and more desperate.
He couldn't remember what they had been struggling toward. Just out, like now. Except now, he was alone.
He squirmed around, hoping a new angle would let him find a way out, and stretched. Even if randomly striking out didn't work, maybe concentrated pressure would.
Suddenly, a slice of light appeared between his hands. He reached for it, and it expanded, before a force gripped his arms like an enormous hand and pulled him bodily out of the darkness.
Free!
He thought the sensation of flying was just the relief of finally being free, until his body impacted against something hard with enough force to break bones.
It didn't hurt, strangely enough. It was just frustrating to want to move, and be unable to.
With great effort, he turned his head and blinked his eyes, but all he could see was fuzzy patches of light and less light. Even color was beyond him, unless this place really was filled with nothing but whites and grays.
Where was he? What was he?
There was noise now, lots of noise, but it was as difficult to make sense of as his vision.
Were those people? What had grabbed him? It had seemed huge, like being grabbed by one of those big yellow cranes that they used on construction sites. That didn't make any sense, did it?
He drew a breath, now that he was free, with a strange, sucking sensation as if his lungs had never held air before. A feeling of dread suffused his soul as a thready cry escaped his mouth, and his mind finally started connecting the dots.
Dead people had been rising as zombies, zombies who had no attachment to the people they had loved just minutes before. When he died, there was the sensation of being crowded in with countless other people, all struggling to get out, but out to where? Into dead bodies? Was he in a dead body?
A dead baby?
He squirmed, but with broken bones and undeveloped muscles, he couldn't even turn over. His eyes, too, couldn't distinguish any detail in what he was seeing, but the sounds he had been hearing were starting to resolve into voices.
And screaming.
I'm sorry, he though. I didn't know... Didn't realize that he had been trying to claw his way out of a living human body.
They must have cut me out, he realized. I hope they have a doctor here, to sew her back up again. He wanted to see, wanted to know if she was ok, but squirming did no more good than before. Pushing his tiny broken arms against the floor, he let out a moan of frustration.
The noises around him suddenly stopped. Then two sharp sounds. Two words?
He was still trying to puzzle them out, when darkness descended again, pulling him back into the familiar crush of struggling souls. It was obvious then, what the words must have been.
"Kill it."
~~*~~
The Last Day of School
She shambled along the road home from school, humming happily. To her ears, it sounded like a toneless moan, but in her head she heard her favorite band playing on the radio.
This is so awesome, she thought. I was scared at first, when the zombies burst into school, but now there's no more school to worry about, and no more pain. I don't even care anymore about that jerk Eric dumping me just before the dance!
She shook her head, pushing thoughts of her ex-boyfriend aside. Never mind him, I have to get home and share this with Daddy, and with Billy and Jane.
She had seen her brother and sister running home ahead of her, but she was in no rush. To be honest, she wasn't able to rush anymore, but she was glad of it. The world was so beautiful when you slowed down enough to appreciate it. Even on the walk home, a walk she had taken every school day for the last five years, she was seeing everything in a whole new way.
A feeling of peace and beauty filled her up until she thought she would burst. She did burst into song, at least, not caring a bit that her mangled lips couldn't shape the words or that her larynx could no longer hit the notes. She was so happy!
And when I get home, Daddy will finally be happy too, she thought.
Instead of worrying about work all the time and his mean boss, he could slow down and just spend his time being happy with her.
And Billy and Jane, she reminded herself, feeling virtuous. Even if she'd love to have Daddy to herself for a while, she wouldn't leave her siblings out. Much as they annoyed her sometimes, they deserved to be happy too.
The sun was setting when she got home. She paused at the end of the driveway, just soaking in the beauty.
I never realized how beautiful the sunset could be before, she thought. Not just the colors in the sky, but the way the colors on the ground change before they fade away into darkness, and the sounds of the night animals taking over from the day animals.
For a moment, she wished she could feel the air against her skin, cooling into night. She shook her head, though, letting that regret go - loss of sensation was a small price to pay for never feeling pain again.
Changing over had been very painful, and she was grateful that it hadn't taken long. I'll have to make it quick for Daddy too. He doesn't deserve to be in pain.
She started up the driveway towards the house, and he stepped out from the front door, letting it swing shut behind him.
If she had still been living, she would have shouted "Daddy!" at the top of her lungs and skipped forward to give him a huge hug. As it was, she moaned a little louder and shambled a little faster towards the house.
***
It's true, he thought, dread welling up from the pit of his stomach. The wounds that gaped open but didn't bleed, the clumsy walk, the tormented moans... Krissy was dead, and all he could do for her now was put her out of her misery.
He glanced back at the house and shook his head sharply at the two small faces peeking out the window. They vanished, and he turned back to the task at hand. He didn't want them to see this.
He readied his golf club and watched as she made her slow way towards him. Closer, closer... She reached out her arms, and he caught his breath, wishing he could hug her one last time.
"I love you Krissy," he said, looking into her dead eyes as he spoke. "You don't have to hurt anymore." Then he swung.
***
OH! She was surprised when the swing crushed her to the ground, but even then there was no pain.
She tried to talk, tried to tell him how much better it was now, but the words were trapped in her mind and all that came out of her mouth were moans. But Daddy, she tried to say, you'll be so much happier if I bring you over - you and Billy and Jane.
He hit her again, and again, and she realized her connection to her body was fraying away. I guess I'll go on ahead then, she thought, turning a little to watch the golf club descend one last time.
I love you Daddy. I'll see you soon.
The club hit, and she was
gone.
***
He stepped back from the corpse, suppressing tears as he watched to make sure she was finally gone.
She lay still and silent on the lawn, no longer writhing, no longer moaning out her agony - finally free of the pain of undeath.
"Rest in peace, Krissy," he whispered. Then he straightened his shoulders and went back to the house, and to the living children who still needed him.
~~*~~
Short Story Collections by Anthea Strezze
Refuge: Tales From a Zombie Apocalypse
When a terrorist attack unleashed a new strain of the bird flu, people worried.
When the resulting pandemic killed millions, it felt like the end of the world.
Then the dead started to rise.
The Trouble With Wishes
Everyone wishes sometimes - for things to be different, or easier, or better. But when a wish is granted, can you ever get what you really want?
Zombie Variations
What's it like to be a zombie?Do you still feel love and fear? Or nothing but a ravening hunger for the brains of the living?
Coming Soon:
Transformations
Self-transformation - what sort of motivation does it take to destroy who you are, in the hope of who you might become?
~~*~~
About the Author
Anthea Strezze believes in nurturing the sense of wonder, and strives to write stories that her readers can really connect with and find echoes of themselves and their lives in. She's just as likely to write a story about werewolves washing dishes as mages doing battle with ancient evil (more likely, actually), and loves writing both mundane stories with a taste of the fantastic, and fantastic stories with a hint of the mundane. She lives in New England with her husband and cat, and maintains a blog at https://AntheaStrezze.com/blog.