New Entries

Two new zombie blog entries on the same day! Well one is a follow-up of the other, but none the less I have finally added new content. For those who waited patiently read on and enjoy. Those new to my blog Welcome and allow me to take you through an undead world as conceived by my mind.

As always, comments are greatly welcomed and appreciated.

P.s. More material on the way, but hopefully without the long wait.

Leaving Home

Before the outbreak, Greg’s life was different. He worked as an editor for a publishing company and was in the works to have one of his own manuscripts printed. The thrill and excitement of reaching this accomplishment made him realize the value of his own hard work.
Then all this shit happened.
The TV blared on with some news anchor reporting on the current situation with the creatures that were spreading across the city. Sitting on the couch he stared at the ceiling of his small studio apartment.
“Parts of the downtown area continue to burn as fires from last weeks rioting and the most recent military contamination units’ attempts to control the situation have gone unattended.”
“Can you believe this shit?” said Mark who lay sprawled on the couch next to him.
Greg looked back down at the floor of his apartment. Before the outbreak his apartment was cozy and large. On sunny days his partial living room and dining area were lit up by the sun’s rays that filtered in through the windows that overlooked the street. A large rug lay between the TV and couch, and a stationary shelf filled with books and other supplies sat in the corner facing the couch.
That image faded away as he saw open bottles and crumpled cans thrown about the floor. Books and newspapers were discarded around the now cramped living room marked by Mark and Jeff’s sleeping bags. College buddies, Greg decided to let them camp out at his place when they were forced to move out of their neighborhoods, when they were deemed unsafe zones.
“They ain’t gonna do shit,” Mark continued. “This crap is been going on for weeks now. Who knows how many of those things there are out there now.”
“Your point being,” said Greg.
“It’s not gonna get any better. We’re alright so far, but its going to be a matter of time before this area is not safe any more.”
“But what the hell do you want me to do about it?” said Greg.
Mark sat silent for a moment not sure how to respond.
“Damn what was that all about?” said Jeff as he walked out of the kitchen. “Are you harassing him with your logistic bullshit again?”
“What, I was just trying to liven up the mood. It was so quiet in here and the TV just keeps spitting out the same crap.”
Greg readjusted himself on the couch and sucked his teeth. His head began to hurt from viewing TV in the dark and the sudden outburst.
“Besides,” continued Mark. “What I’m saying is true. It’s only a matter of time.”
For the past three days it’s been the same thing coming out Mark’s mouth and Greg was getting tired of hearing it. He hated the fact that everything around him was falling apart and he had no control over it. His life, his career was destroyed with nothing to savor or hold on to because it was meaningless now.
On top of all that there were the dead that were walking around searching, killing, and infecting others who would later get up and kill. He felt trapped with no way of escaping the horror of what was happening. Neither escape nor rescue was promised to all the people that were still alive behind stock piled cars and crudely set up steel gates, fences and walls that kept the dead from reaching them.
“Man why do you have to sound all end of the world and shit?” said Jeff.
“Have you looked out the window lately?” said Mark. “I can still see the fires burning a mile from here.”
“Those places were lost. Nothing could be done to save them.”
“Okay fine, but think about this Jeff. It just means that we’re also a lost cause.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” said Greg.
“No ones coming to get any of the people still alive in this area. We’re all fucked.”
Greg stood up and walked to the window. He couldn’t stand hearing Mark talk like he knew what was going to happen.
From his second floor window he looked down onto the street below. People were walking around some pushing carts, others sat under street lamps. It was a cloudy evening as the moon tried to peek through the clouds.
“The only thing keeping us all alive is that fortified blockade,” said Mark.
“And it’s going to continue to stay up,” said Greg. “Those barricades have stayed up this long and as long as we continue to check them we’re going to be just fine.”
Despite the irritation and his growing headache Greg managed to state his firm opinion on the matter.
“I’m going out I need some fresh air, I’m cramped in here,” said Greg.
“You feel cramped,” responded Mark.
“Yeah my head hurts from listening to your crap everyday.”
Mark was about to say something when Jeff interrupted.
“If you’re going outside than check the barricade out behind the building.”
“I thought it was your turn to check?” said Greg.
“Yeah but since your going out then you take care of it.”
Greg stomped out of the living room and into the hall toward the door. He stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him.
He walked over to the wall across from him and slammed his fist against it. The pain shot through his arm and then he felt his blood pulsate with each bulging ache.
“Lazy asshole.”
Outside the night air was warm and the smell of burnt ash and smoke was growing stronger from the out-of- control fires. The weather hadn’t been on their side for the past couple of days, blowing all that congested air in their direction. They were warned to wear masks but Greg was so pissed that he left without grabbing his.
He didn’t care anyway because he wasn’t going to stay out long, just enough to calm his nerves.
He walked past several people that were sitting on the curb humming tunes. They sounded content, even distracted to the reality that surrounded them. He once remembered a neighborhood that had kids hanging out on street corners at all hours of the day. The local bodega that sold hot roast beef sandwiches, and the barber shop where he got his haircuts.
Looking around the streets looked subdued, gripped onto the brink of its own destruction as people tried to hang on to some fading memory of their dying city. Except for the humming group the evening was quiet. Greg walked around the corner and down an alley leading toward the back of the building. A dim light that hung on the wall illuminated the path. The ground was littered with broken bottles, papers, and other trash that people threw out of their windows.
“Damn people have no decency even now,” he said as he stepped on a beer can. “They can’t even keep the streets clean. Why don’t we just hand it over to them?”
He kicked another can out of the way as he approached a knocked down wall divider that separated the buildings from each other. Greg stepped through and saw the steel gate and fence that stretched along a section of the barricade.
As he got closer he could see it covered in rust and graffiti. He pressed against it and found it to be able to hold against his own weight. A smile crossed his face as he though back to stupid idea that Mark kept insisting on. He shoved at it again and laughed at the outcome.
“Solid just like Alcatraz.”
His phone suddenly rang, and Greg felt his heart leap into his throat.
“Hello?”
“Hey I almost forgot,” answered Jeff. “Don’t forget to check the pad locks.”
“Jesus you call me just to tell me that?”
“What did I scare you?” Jeff said in a mocking voice.
“Fucking hell yeah.”
Over the phone Greg could hear Mark laughing as Jeff tried to cover his tracks.
“Hey put that idiot on the phone. I want him to hear this.”
Greg walked over to a steel fence reinforced with wooden planks and sheet metal.
“You hear this Mark?” he said kicking the makeshift wall. “Strong as a rock.”
He kicked it again and again, each shot harder then the last.
“I told you they would hold.”
Again he kicked the wall. He could hear the vibration travel along the wall until he heard a loud crack to his left at the far end of the barricade.
“Okay,” said Mark. “You’ve made your point. Just get on back.”
Greg stared in the direction of the noise. The barricade on his right stretched out another four blocks, illuminated only by a single light. Something snapped loose somewhere up ahead.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Shutting his phone off, he walked ahead along the wall. The night sky cast dark eerie shadows along the path. A cold chill ran over his hands, and his hair began to stand on its end.
He inspected the barricade as he walked along. Large thick wood planks stood secure to the ground and reinforced with steel. Another sound echoed ahead, not as loud as the first but definitely audible.
“What the hell,” Greg answered in return.
The night grew quieter that Greg thought he could hear feint howls and groans drifting in the air. Could they be closer now, he thought. The zombies were moving south in scattered groups mainly using large main streets and high ways. That was according to the last news chopper report before they went off the air two days ago. They couldn’t be moving that fast, but than again it didn’t matter because the barricades would hold against them.
Then he saw it, a large piece of sheet metal had detached from a wooden frame and now left a two foot wide open gap.
“Shit.”
He tried to push the sheet metal back into place but it refused to budge. He pushed harder and it screeched across the ground. Frustrated he peeped through the gap and found a section of wall and debris preventing the barricade from closing. He stepped through and began to look around for something to move the debris out of the way.
Stopping to look at the lay out he realized that it was a large courtyard. To his right was a door and ahead the courtyard opened into a street.
Curious to see what was ahead Greg moved forward and found the street deserted and dark. A few street lamps still worked in this abandoned part of the city. A low groan floated in the air and then Greg saw movement just across from where he was standing.
From behind a desolate parked car a lone zombie dragged itself along the ground.
In the dead silence and emptiness it was weird to find one of them here alone as if it were lost and searching for something.
Greg reached down and picked up a lose brick and walked forward determined to put it out of its misery.
“Come here you little shit,” said Greg.
As he got closer its rotting stink intensified and he also saw that it was missing a leg. The handicap didn’t prevent it from pulling itself toward him when it saw him. He lifted the brick and stopped at the sound of another groan loader this time. When he turned he saw another zombie walking toward him then another behind it.
Only two he said to himself, “slow ass fuckers.”
As he lifted the brick something ran past him. He turned and was tackled from behind and dragged to the ground. Another zombie had ambushed him and he hadn’t seen at all. It clawed at his face and hissed and tried to bite him. Greg held its head away with one arm and reached for a piece of shattered glass on the ground with the other. When he turned his attention back to the zombie he realized that it was a woman. Her eyes were blood shot red and blood ran down her mouth and dripped on his face.
The zombie dug its rotted chipped nails into his soft flesh and scrapped some of his skin off.
Panicked Greg grabbed the shattered glass and jabbed it into the zombie’s eye. Gaining leverage he screamed and continued to push it deeper into its socket. Pushing it off Greg scrambled to his feet, the other two and the one crawling on the ground continued to pace after him. He looked at his arm and saw the blood run down, it stun like a hundred bees had attacked the same spot.
“Fuck you bastards,” he said staring at the dead corpse he just killed. The others moaned in feverish hunger their arms reaching for him from a block away.
“You’re not talking this from us,” he continued.
He turned and walked back to the barricade. In the distance the wails grew louder as two more shambling corpses appeared.

Leaving Home: Greg Revisited

Greg paced around his room; each step brought a new shot of pain up his legs to his lower back. He felt cold even though he had draped himself in a thick bed blanket. He knew he was sick, but why for this long and why was his body changing? He slowly lifted his arm to reveal the source of his illness.
Those deep scratches never healed and now they looked horribly infected. The wound was still festering, leaking puss and blood from time to time. It hurt, but he tried to keep it covered only to have to change the gauze when it began to leak. Greg never saw a wound like this that wouldn’t heal.
Each time he looked at the wound, he would remember the thing in the alley that attacked him. How it dug its infected nails deep into his arm and passed the sickness onto him. Since that day, Greg felt himself slowly getting worse. It began with a pulsating headache, followed by a flu that kept him in bed for two days.
That was a week ago and he still hadn’t improved. Now his body was changing; the hair on his head was thinning out, and his skin was drying up and peeling off in large clumps. The layers that fell off revealed painful sores that secreted fluid and gave off a foul odor. He didn’t know what the hell was happening to him, but he knew he was changing. His body was literally rotting away.
He panicked when he realized what was happening to him because that was what had happened to the thing in the alley.
He coughed hard and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He grabbed a tissue and spat into it. He stared at the bits of blood on the tissue. They were a dark, gelatinous shape. He thought of the blood covering the face of the woman in the alley. He crumbled the tissue and threw it away. He walked over to his dresser and picked up a small portrait of his family. His mother, little sister, and himself smiled joyfully back at him. He looked so full of life in that photo, compared to now.
He didn’t want to become one of those monsters. He thought about killing himself, but with what? If he did find a way would he have the courage to end his own damned life? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t stay here because if he turned into one of those things his family would be in danger. He thought about running, but he couldn’t because of the pain in his legs. On top of that he didn’t want to abandon his mother and little sister.
****
Makayla heard from the neighbors in her building that the police and National Guard troops were evacuating people from nearby apartment complexes. They said that at the speed they were evacuating, they would reach their building soon. When her son Greg had returned home, he tried to convince her that she and his little sister Elizabeth had to leave before it was too late. He kept saying that the zombies were getting closer to their neighborhood, but others protested that the situation was under control.
She wasn’t sure what to believe until police started evacuating in their area. Then Greg fell ill and continued to get worse as the illness left him practically immobile. He could barely move more than a few feet until the pain collapsed his legs underneath his own weight. She tried to help him, but he refused to be helped and would just hide in his room. All she could do was painfully watch as her son got worse and worse.
As she walked toward Greg’s room she stopped in front of her daughter Elizabeth’s room. She lay on her bed fast asleep holding on to her favorite stuffed animal. Makayla was relieved that she was still asleep with all the loud activity that was going on around the neighborhood. Her little angel, she thought. She wouldn’t let anything happen to either of them. When the evacuation reached them they would all be fine, she thought to herself. She walked to Greg’s room and knocked before entering; when she went in she found him sitting at the edge of his bed holding on to a picture.
“Greg?” she called to him.
He slowly turned to face her. She almost didn’t recognize him. His hair had thinned out and his eyes were sunken into his pale face. Her once handsome, full of life son was now a faded image of his former self. She felt afraid of entering his room. He seemed so different that she didn’t see her son any more, but a sick stranger. A tear formed in her eye as she looked at the stranger sitting on her son’s bed. She remained strong as she walked in not just for herself, but for her son who was sitting in front of her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Not so good. I’m cold, and the nausea keeps coming back. I’m getting worse.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, you’re going to get better.”
“No, I told you that you and Lizzy need to get out of here. That illness is spreading, anyone infected changes, they become crazy. That’s why everyone is trying to get out of this neighborhood before they all die.”
“We can’t leave not when you’re like this. I’m sure they’ll send medical attention when they get here. So everything will be alright.”
“I’m infected Mom.”
“What?” she said. The word trembled out of her mouth as she realized what he was saying. She didn’t want to believe it.
“No,” she said, “it’s not true; you’re going to be alright. We’re all going to be alright. I promise we’re all going to be alright.”
“No Mom, one of those things attacked me. It scratched me, I thought it was nothing also but I’m getting worse. That’s why I want you and Lizzy to leave, I don’t want anything to happen to either of you if I change.”
She tried to hug her son, but he stopped her from getting closer to him. Her emotions finally burst into tears. She couldn’t yet comprehend what he was turning into, but she knew that her son was dying and that made her feel helpless. She couldn’t do anything to ease his pain as he drifted farther away. Her tears ran down in streams, she was losing her baby boy.
“Mom, don’t worry about me. Just save yourselves.”
Makayla barely heard his words through her heavy crying, but she had made up her mind. She would remain here and make sure that nothing happened to either of her children until the evacuation arrived.
****
Elizabeth had tears running down her cheeks. She had heard everything between her mother and big brother. Lizzy, as she liked being called, was eleven years old and she knew what death was. People died, that was common sense and people felt sad for their loved ones. What was happening outside wasn’t natural. Dead people still walked around and killed others. What was going on, she thought.
Lizzy tried not to think about it, but how could you not? The constant screaming and gun shots alone kept you up at night. Her mother would tell her to just try to ignore it. That she was too young to think about it. She still had a lot of growing up to do and many things to learn. Now however, she knew that she couldn’t escape it; death was everywhere. She heard her Mom talking to some of their neighbors about how people were getting sick and acting strange. Lizzy had noticed that her Mom had become very worried about their neighborhood, but she always told her that there was nothing to worry about. Everything would be just fine, but Lizzy knew better.
Things got worse; especially, after her big brother came back home.
Lizzy got out of bed and saw her mother walk by her room; she noticed her mom was crying. She wanted to tell her something, but her mom quickly walked into her room and closed the door. She turned and saw her brother’s door was open; she slowly walked into his room.
It was dark except for a night light in the corner that illuminated that part of the room. She saw her brother sitting on the floor in the same corner, his head leaning against the wall. He looked asleep as she got closer. The sound of a police car’s siren blared out side his window.
“Greg,” she said.
Greg slowly opened his eyes, “Lizzy, what are you doing here?”
She was glad when she heard his raspy voice. She remembered how happy she was when he came back home a few days ago. She loved her big brother so much, loved when they played hide and seek, and watched cartoons together. The person sitting in front of her didn’t look like her big brother any more, but she knew it was.
“I just,” she started to say then stopped. He looked so old, his face looked like a dried up prune. She felt pain in her little chest and tears began to form because of it. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but she didn’t know how to say it. All she knew was that she hated the sickness for doing this to her brother, and that she loved him no matter what. She wanted to tell him so badly, but her tears were drowning out her words.
“Don’t cry, Lizzy. Come here,” he said opening his arms. Lizzy hesitated at first then hugged her brother as hard as she could. His body stiffened as Greg tried to suppress the pain. “Why? I don’t what anything to happen to you,” she said as her crying made her shake uncontrollably.
“Shhh, don’t cry ok. I’ll be ok,” he said while picking up her chin, “I want you to be a good little girl, okay Lizzy. Grow up and be strong for yourself and Mom, okay.”
Lizzy nodded and at that moment the sound of several police cars and other vehicles stopped right outside his window. She could hear a man’s voice loud through a bullhorn.
“Attention all civilians, containment has been breached. This area is under high risk of contamination. We urge everyone to prepare for immediate evacuation; we will be entering all buildings and guiding the evacuation process.”
“It’s time to go Lizzy,” he said. His raspy voice sounded soft under the loud commotion. “No, I don’t want to go,” she said. Her brother got up slowly; he looked like he was using all the energy he had left to stand. She could tell he was in a lot of pain, but he pushed her toward the door. He was trying to get her out, but she tried to plant her little feet on the ground to stop him. He was still strong and with the last of his strength he shoved her out of his room and locked the door behind her.
“No Greg, don’t die!” she cried and saw her mother rush out of her room and toward her.
****
Greg shut the door and locked it. He wouldn’t let Lizzy or his Mom see him when he changed. He could taste the blood still in his mouth and it excited him. No he thought, he would fight to stay alive even though he felt his consciousness failing him. He couldn’t think straight and his vision was blurred. He took two steps forward and felt his legs give out, he crashed to the floor. The pain he felt was so intense that he briefly lost consciousness. When he woke up he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He remembered how Lizzy hugged him, she was afraid of how he looked. But she still hugged him, it was painful but he didn’t care. He was saying goodbye to his kid sister. He felt his breath shortening. He was going to die soon, but he wished there was a way to cheat the illness and just die peacefully. He knew it was impossible; he was going to turn into a monster.
“At the hour of my death don’t forget me, and protect my Mom and Lizzy,” he spoke with his final breath. As he lay there in the middle of his room he could feel and hear his heart beat slowly, until he felt his heart’s own last beat. Then everything went black and his final thought was that he was in a better place.
****
Makayla continued to scream and bang on Greg’s door, but she heard no answer. Lizzy stood next to her and just cried, “Lizzy, baby what happened? What happened to your brother?” All Lizzy could do was cry and say that she didn’t want her brother to die. Makayla began to cry even harder trying to get one last word from her son from behind his door, she heard nothing.
She was crying so hard and pleading with the door that she didn’t noticed the yelling coming from outside her front door until it was blasted open. Two armed officers and a Special Forces trooper stormed into her home, “Quickly, move them out of here now; we don’t have a lot of time.”
“No wait, my son,” she pleaded looking back at his door. “I’m not leaving without my son!”
The trooper moved in and kicked the door open and searched for the light switch and turned it on. Makayla held on to Lizzy as the light came on and there was Greg standing in the middle of his room. She moved trying to get closer, but the officers stopped her from moving into his room. He was still alive she thought.
The trooper called to him and Greg slowly turned to face them. His eyes were milky white and lifeless, he didn’t recognize her anymore. Greg let out a low guttural moan that echoed from deep within his chest. His face suddenly cringed with hateful anger as he hissed. He took a step forward and reached out to grab them.
“Shit, get them out of here now,” the trooper shouted aiming his M16 at Greg.
“NO! DON’T SHOOT HIM. HE’S MY SON!” she screamed as she fought with the officers who were pulling her and Lizzy away.
There was a loud crackle of automatic fire, “GREG!” she screamed.
****
Everything happened so fast that Lizzy only saw her brother’s face get red with anger right before she and her mother were pulled out. She jumped when she heard the gun shot, but she continued to look into her brother’s room. She crept back toward the door and only saw her brother’s feet out in the open. The rest of his body was hidden behind his bed. She stood there silent as she stared at his feet, a tear rolled down her cheek.
Outside Lizzy watched as other people were being lead out of their buildings and onto large buses. Police lights flashed red and white in the darkening sky. People were shouting all around her; she looked at her mother and noticed that she continued to look straight ahead, lost and forgotten. She looked back up at her home and remembered Greg’s face.
As she boarded the bus she looked up the street ahead and saw a big commotion of people behind a large thick fence. They were making loud noises like her brother did before he died. At that moment she knew that she couldn’t look back.

From the Author,
Well I know it was a long wait, but worth it. I hope that all who read these new entries enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Best to all and keep the undead shamblers alive.

False Prayers

Superstition is the belief that some action or thing is lucky or unlucky. What a load of bullshit thought Elsie as she held her crucifix close to her mouth and whispered her prayers to it. She still prayed to God in hopes that he heard her pleas and protected her from further harm.
Although, why should she continue to practice such a meaningless habit after everything that had happened so far. The dead coming back to life and in turn taking the lives of those who did them no harm.
"Why are you letting this happen?" she asked. No answer just like all the other times she asked. Does God really even exist, she asked herself. She stared at her crucifix with burning eyes, her brow tight and curled around her eyes as she focused on the inanimate object.
Why wouldn't there be a God? How can something so wonderful as man kind created in God's own image not be created by a greater being with omniscient power? There's no way he could let a plague of pure evil overtake and ravage his precious creation. This was the work of the devil, of pure evil that hated the love and happiness that man has brought God. But she could still hear them several floors down being shot outside. Inbetween she heard the screams of other victims who fell prey to them, only to be shot afterward by a compasionate sniper.
The Devil has turned God's precious creation 'man' against itself.
The news kept reporting that a virus or epidemic was the cause of this rapidly growing plague that turned its victims into killers. People were envisioning demons and hell right before their eyes without question. The blood and guts that spilled from helpless nonbelievers and worshippers of God alike. Elsie watched as her best friend gnawed and tore the flesh and muscle from her own little brother's arm and face. They were attacking and eating each other in the streets right outside her window. She looked outside and saw the bright sun in the open sky with only a few clouds decorating its surrounding. Elsie picked herself off of the floor and crept toward the window, outside the streets were empty.
No wait, there's another one as it shuffled into the open. Another ran past it searching feverishly for food, it twitched like a carnivorous raptor salivating with hunger.
It still looked human, normal even except that it clothes were covered in blood and its face was ripped open on the left side. Elsie covered her eyes and looked away; she didn't want to believe that this was how humanity was coming to an end. God wouldn't let this happen to his children. Religious faith always preached how God punished those who with evil in their hearts and protected those who embraced his name.
How could anyone still believe that in the face of this hell that was alive and spreading? Why was she still alive she thought. She didn't want to continue living in this nightmarish hell, but felt that by doing that she would be commiting an ultimate sin against God. Again, why did she continue believing in such a thing? It was the same as being superstitious wasn't it, she thought. She walked toward the kitchen where her cousin and uncle were sitting lecturing to each from the bible. Why did they still believe or have faith in something that couldn't answer why the plague know as hell was spreading like wildfire.
She didn't care anymore as she pocketed her crucifix and walked toward her mother's bedroom. Religious faith couldn't explain what was happening so why would she continue to pray for salvation. There were other things to be hopeful for, weren't there?
Elsie prayed hoping that was true at least.

Rotted Away Without A Second Thought

The sun set in the distance leaving behind a faded red-orange blotch across the sky that was surrounded by the expanding dark blue night sky. Shadows crept across abandoned buildings that were once occupied and full of life. Even the streets, day or night that were a breeding ground for activity by this city's inhabitants were empty. An abandoned city, dead silence, and dark shadows that cast their embrace on something that once was.
Yet, it's not completely dead or quiet.
A soft hum is echoing through the streets. It's low almost unhearable, but it's getting louder and more wide spread. Looking down the street inbetween the landscape of brick and stone buildings, and cars that were left abandoned across the street an unintelligible wail has risen.
Out of the shadows and from behind corners wierd figures are emerging into the open. They don't acknowledge each other by waves or nodds just that same thoaty moan. The streets are beginning to get crowded with them as if they didn't care where they walked. Where are they going? The city is alive with activity, but these people are strange. Why are they gathering together and marching in unison? Dragging their feet or shuffling across they move. Society has vanished, at least here, and these people are all that's left but had long been forgotten.
As we look closer we find one of them lying on the ground in an alley. A shambler walks by and doesn't even look or care that he's there. He's been long forgotten so one wouldn't even care if he was alive or dead. However, he is alive by the twitching in his jaw and arms.
He's decided to come out again and search the streets around his resting spot. Lying motionless on the ground next to a large garbage container he rose. He wailed in a long and low almost guttural voice, it was time to feed. Sitting up right he looked around letting his eyes adjust to dark, shadowy alley way. In the distance he could hear the voices of other beings calling out in the same tone. Was it time to eat for them? What about him? He didn't care as he looked at the bony forearm lying on the ground next to him.
There were still bits of tendon and muscle attached. It should be obvious what this thing is, a zombie. He was human once but not any more, hadn't been for several months now. The smell of shit and decay all around him, but again he didn't care or think twice about it as he picked himself up. The taste of blood and raw flesh was still in his mouth. He wanted more, he could eat all day if he had the chance, and depending on whether he could find prey.
To this zombie, we'll call him Terry, nothing else mattered except to feed his unquenchable thirst for flesh or warm blood that still pumped through a very much alive and screaming victim.
Terry walked out into the open street and saw others like him. Others that wore the same wounds of infection across open puss filled facial tears that bled. Blood covered clothes that hid exposed dangling intestines or other organs. The overpowering smell of rotten bodies, the stink of vomit and shit induced road kill covered these people like a naturally fragranced human odor. They just continued marching forward to some unknown destination oblivious to the state of their physical being or foul offensive decay.
Terry joined a small group of shambling corpses that marched down the road and voiced their moans of hunger into the night. It was a monotonous cycle of walking, moaning, and feasting. At no moment did any of them stop to think or even look at what they were doing to reason and ask why. Terry behaved the same way, like all the others that were walking along side him, he didn't care. He just did because he had to, he wanted to kill and eat to satisfy himself.
Something pushed past him almost knocking him over. Terry hissed and gnawed his teeth in irritation. He was about to give chase when he realized it wasn't food, but one of his more mobile brethren. Another ran past him followed by another, suddenly rouge packs of zombie sprinters filtered through them. Terry watched as one of them stood for a moment and twitched in different directions looking for food. The sprinter or Rapture zombie sniffed the air then hissed with irratated anger before joining the other runners up ahead. Terry growled and wailed after them. They must have found something.
The night sky was pitch black as the few street lights that worked illuminated the path ahead of them. Gun fire erupted from around the next street corner. It was a loud procession of automatically fired weapons that sounded like spurts of ricocheting metal. The other zombies around Terry started walking faster, the hunger in their agonized wails filled him with excitement. That sound usaully meant food was near by.
Around the corner stood a giant wall of metal and debris that blocked the way, a barricade of sorts. The sound of gun fire continued more loudly now, closer. Terry looked up and saw spurts of white and yellow flashing from the dark, shadowed areas of the buildings around the large metal barricade. It was a forified trap by the living to exterminate any of walking diseased that dared to venture into this location. He didn't know if there was any food ahead of the large mob of rotting cannibals, but his own blind hunger to feed himself lured Terry further into the massacre and extermination of his bretheren.
Bullets pierced through frail decomposed skin. Body parts were torn or left hung by small strands of flesh and ligaments. Others dropped to the ground like heavy sand bags. Their dying wails were drowned out by the loud echo of metallic death machines that fired with only a single purpose. Terry stared with an amazed blank expression on his face at the lights that killed off his brothers. He looked up at the dark sky and moaned into the night never feeling or understanding the round that punched a hole in his chest.
Another round ripped through the right side of his forehead. Bits of his skull shattered and dark gray tumorous portions of brain were shredded into wet paste. It was fast and he never took his gaze off the dark sky above him. Terry's zombified corpse hit the ground among a landfill of dead rotten corpses. Those who could escape did, mostly the sprinters, the others were left for target practice.
Without a second glance or thought it was over, another win for the living. As for Terry, lying there a battered and faceless body no one would give a shit that he had just died for a second time in his existence.

Epidemic Scale

The attacks continued even after precautionary measures were taken to protect the public from harm. The TV set was on and the local news station was teleprompting a list of emergency rescue and collection depots. Javier sat on the couch in the living room staring at the set. They've been repeating the same list for the past two days and the sight of the same bold white words scrolling along a blue background was boring him half to death. At least the local networks weren't airing the prompts on a twenty four hour basis, he thought.
"Anything new?" asked his brother Alex as he walked into the room.
"Same old crap," answered Javier. "If they have nothing new to tell us than why keep on airing the same thing. I mean I would rather see someone talking to me telling me what new developments have arisen."
"You know the reason they air this is to keep reminding us that there are some places we can go when the shit hits the fan."
Javier just shrugged on the couch. His brother was right, but he still felt that it was better to have someone live and in person sitting in a news studio informing people about what was happening. It didn't matter if the anchor had two days worth of grime on their face, or wearing the same clothes for the same amount of time. At least it meant that people were still alive and trying to get the word out on what was happening.
Everytime that prompt came up Javier feared that it would not go away. What if the news people never come back on again, he thought. The fact that news was still broadcasting kept the public from reacting irrationally. In his own Bronx neighborhood, apartment complexes had become barricaded fortresses. Windows on the first floor were nailed shut with wooden planks or steel bars. Front entrances were also reinforced and kept guarded by apartment residents on hourly shifts.
Needless to say this area was self quarantined. Other residents from other neighborhoods managed to escape and based their camps in the streets outside the apartment complexes before the area was sealed off. Javier walked over to his barred second floor window and looked outside. People were walking around carrying bags on their shoulders, others were talking with each other. Cars were parked at odd angles and blocking street intersections.
"I'm heading out," said Javier. "I can't stay in here I need to see if there's anything going on outside."
"Why bother," asked his brother.
"I just need a breath of fresh air."
"Fresh air?" said Alex. "Don't you mean shit air."
Javier smiled. The quality of the air outside was starting to smell rather rank.
"I'll be back in a bit. Try to keep a ear open for any new reports."
His brother just nodded.

Javier opened the latch to the roof entrance and stepped outside. The afternoon sky was a clear blue horizen with a few scattered clouds floating around in random spots. Staring out across the rooftops of other apartment buildings you couldn't think that anything was wrong. The only obvious signs were the random fires and large columns of smoke that rose into the sky, and the sound.
He walked closer to the edge and realized the sound was louder now then it ever was. The sounds of the dead at first came floating in the air like a low hum and it grew louder indicating that their numbers were increasing, as well as the fact that they were moving. How long before they tried to attack this area, he thought. The barricades were well constructed, but they wouldn't last forever.
He sniffed the air and their stink filtered into his nostrils.
"The shit stink is getting worse."
"Javier where are you?" called his brother through their walkie talkies.
"What is it?"
"You better come down here and look at this," he said. "There's a news update that's airing some important stuff."
"I'll be there in a minute."
Javier took one more look around his neighborhood then looked toward Manhattan. He wondered if the others were okay before he turned and walked back inside.

"What's going on?"
"Check it out," answered Alex.
A news anchor was sitting behind the desk looking disheveled as ever. Messy hair and a thick five o' clock shadow decorated his demeanor.
"Once again the military has annouced that measures to eradicate the epidemic has proven unsuccessful," announced the news anchor.
"Well that was a given," said Alex.
"Yeah it just means that there are more zombies walking around."
"While the effort to eradicate the infection and its carriers will continue," said the anchor. "A larger plan of action to contain the epidemic and possibly start evactuations is being put into motion."
What were they planning to do, thought Javier.
"Again to reiterate, this zombie epidemic is starting to grow out of control. The military along with local and state authorities are devising plans to deal with the matter and primarily assist the public."
"What should we do?" asked Alex.
"Nothing for now. We're pretty safe here and if things get crazy we'll deal with it."
The news anchor continued to talk in the background. Javier knew they were doing to right thing by holding out here a little longer. The building was well fortified, and he was prepared to fight back if needed to protect what was his. He had to keep trying to communicate with the others. He only hoped that they were still alive.

2006 and Still Rotting!

Wishing everyone on this New Year's Eve a happy and safe 2006. Writers keep writing, dreamers keep dreaming, and most important of all let's make 2006 our most enjoyable.

I'll be sure to continue to dish out more undead, zombie stories for the new year.

New Year's Rising

The piercing cold night air dried every inch of Steven's face. He could literally peel the dried up skin off of his face in thin layers. His nose and ears were frozen and numb to the point that he couldn't feel them anymore. The snot ran down onto his lips. Steven reached up and rubbed the thin drying coat of mucus off of his mouth. The taste of salty mucus reached his tongue and he spit it out in disgust.
He looked at his watch, it was an hour before midnight. An hour before the new year rang in a list of promised dreams and desires. He let out a heavy sign and his breath manifested in front of his face like a thin transparent cloud. The thermal undergarments that clung to his body now felt like an extra layer of frozen skin. Even with a heavy coat, gloves, and hat on the cold air penetrated inward.
Steven surveyed the area. Crowds of people had already gathered around Times Sqaure to watch and cheer as the bright, glitering ball prepared for its desent.
"How can all these people stand out here in this cold?" asked Steven.
"They're probably just numb and running on adrenaline by now," responded Edwin. Edwin Meyers stood next to him and rubbed his arms while trying to look alert. He reached down to check his sidearm.
"This is your first year patroling Times Sqaure on New Year's right?" continued Edwin.
"Yeah," responded Steven.
Steven also reached down to check his sidearm. New Year's in Times Square was like Fort Knox under heavy surveillance and complete lock down. Those that were lucky enough to get here early got inside the perimeter to enjoy the ball drop. Cops surrounded the entire zone and made sure the evening's events went as smoothly as possible. This year however, security was more tight not only for the usual threating claims of terrorism. An unsual high number of strange deaths and violent attacks had risen during the last month causing the mayor to ask for an increase in security.
"I really hope everything goes smooth tonight," said Edwin. "I just want to go home myself and enjoy the rest of the night eating and drinking."
Steven laughed feeling the tension that was growing in his head from intense concentration disappear. It felt good to laugh although it didn't take away from the fact that he was still freezing.
"So you have anything special happening once you get off your shift?" said Edwin.
"Not really. I'll head home and eat something before crashing to get rid of this New Year's frost bite I'm getting from standing out here."
"That's it. You're not getting wasted or maybe a little action if you know what I mean."
"Yeah I might," Steven said smiling. "I'm gonna go see my girl later after I get some sleep."
"Sleep? Come on you're twenty-five just go on over after your shift and enjoy yourself. You're still young and you're surviving this little bitty cold weather."
"I heard it might snow tonight."
"Sure looks like it might."
Steven looked up at the sky. There were no stars, not that you could see any with all these bright electric city lights illuminating everything. The gray clouds were visible in the night sky under the blaze of lights. It was a decent atmosphere.
It was a moment to behold in person. The amazing display of lights that ornamented Times Square, the stage and performing artists that entertained the crowds that found themselves packed like rats behind fence baricades. The crowds of people fenced in around Times Square stretched for what seemed like blocks. It was a sea of multi-colored shapes waving, jumping, and shouting in unison. Watching it on TV in the warm comfort of your own home was nothing compared to seeing it in person thought Steven.
Despite precautious warnings, and the unknowing subconscious fear of the recent violent happenings people came to enjoy themselves.
"Hey look at this guy," said Edwin as he pointed behind Steven.
Steven turned to find a disheveled man staggering around toward them.
"Where did he come from?"
"Probably found his way around while having one too many drinks." said Edwin.
The man was falling down drunk. He wobbled from left to right dragging his feet behind him, but his face stayed staring straight ahead at them. Steven looked on wondering if he should brace the man's eventual fall or continue to enjoy the sight.
"Getting wasted on a day like today must be fun," said Steven.
"Like you do know what that's like."
From behind a faint scream emerged from somewhere in the large crowd of shouting partiers followed by a screeching metalic noise. Steven turned to see the fence railing keeping the crowd of people in bulging out as a swarm of onlookers hysterically tried to climb over and out. Something had panicked them.
"What the hell's going on?" asked Steven.
Up the street another section of the railing was collapsing as more people tried to break through. The scene looked like an out of control mosh pit that was breaking out of its barrier. Other cops raced to that section; in front of them the approaching man tripped on a curb and toppled over hitting the ground hard.
"Shit."
"See what's causing the panic," said Edwin. "I'll check on him."
Steven approached the railing to find people being crushed in front as the whole mass pushed outward trying to break through the barrier.
"Stop!" Steven shouted. "You're hurting these people."
A wall of panicked screams and shouts of "get us out" smacked him back in the face. He grabbed the interconnecting joints between a set of railings and pulled hard. It didn't budge and he pulled harder and felt the whole structure tilt over on him. The front of the mass dropped and Steven moved in to help those caught on the bottom as people ran everywhere. The police force moved in to calm the crowd, but were only trampled on or shoved aside as the panicked spectators rushed out.
In the sea of chaos, Steven saw a man struggling to free himself from an attacking individual. He pushed forward and felt hands reaching and pulling on him to lift themselves out. He lost sight of the man and turned to find Edwin and found him struggling on the floor with the drunk on top of him. What the hell was going on he thought. A scream erupted from behind and he turned to find the man being bitten across the face. As his assailant pulled away and a chunk of flesh ripped off the man's face, and red muscle and blood spilled out.
Steven's eyes shifted again and caught a woman screaming in strained agony a her attacker ripped into her throat pulling out an artery that spilled blood all over her white coat. He pulled out his night stick and tugged on the woman as she fell over into his arms the blood pouring out like a thick stream of red liquid. The attacker moaned agitated and reached forward, Steven swung his stick across the attacters face. Dropping over the man stirred on the ground and slowly picked himself up and looked back at Steven.
He growled and exposed his teeth as the blood dripped down his chin. Screaming from everywhere echoed around him and he stood in the middle of that pandemonium holding on the to a dead woman. He saw another individual eating the arm of a fallen victim. He didn't know what to do. Steven turned around and couldn't recognize what direction he was facing. There were other attackers in the crowd but he couldn't tell them apart from fleeing bystanders or how many there were.
Gun fire ran out up the block from somewhere in the chaotic sea of uncontrolled panic. Steven continued to drag the woman out of the crowd when she turned and clawed at his arm. He dropped her and she continued to pursue him while crawling on the ground. She had the same agitated, growling, and blinded look of fury on her face. It wasn't possible he thought. She was dead, as if the bloody hole in her neck wasn't evidence enough.
They were like zombies, but it wasn't possible. For a moment Steven's mind leaped ahead of him as he thought he was dreaming. More shooting erupted from across the street as panicked wails resonated and filled the enclosed setting of Times Square. The approaching new year was being greeted with death, and Steven found himself in that surrounding lost and staring in all directions. Snow flakes had started falliing in steady streams covering the ground and dead bodies with a thin layer of white frost.

Beginnings...an intro.

Where to begin, what would be a way to begin an endless saga of undead writings? Funny they're dead, but writers still like to write about them and their helpless victims and so shall I. At the very least I will try to capture the essence of the shambling, rotting beings that I've come to enjoy. I hope that those who read my entries will also come to enjoy them.

So read on as the journey begins through a slowly zombifying world.