MENU
- Home
- News
- Interviews/Features
- Movies
- Books
- Comics/Mags
- Games
- Toys/Collectibles
- Downloads

COMMUNITY
- Message Board
- Drop Dead Funny
- Original Fiction
- Contests
- Cool Links
- F.A.Q.
-

 


ORIGINAL FICTION

-- BACK TO PAGE ONE --



June 19.

Last night a gang of zombies chased me and John and ZoŽ and Clyde out of the Stop-and-Shop while we were filling our pockets with OTC drugs and candy. All of the P-scrip was gone from the bins in the back. The glass was smashed and some doctor zombie was stumbling around looking for his last clue till he saw us near the broken pick-up window. We made it outside but we got surrounded by a bunch of dead guys. The ambulance we stole was on fire. No more painkillers or oxygen. We were about to get bitten when some guy came hauling ass up the road and wiped out the group on the left. We climbed into his car and he took us to a field that smelt like rotted corn. We started talking about the zombies and the best way to kill them. He seemed cool. He didn't mind giving us a ride. ZoŽ offered to suck his dick for the help. She said he smelled like sex. God I wanted to get high. He told us he had some morphine in the back seat. John was getting stupid about this guy. Said he wasn't cool. I said 'what do you know, he got drugs and weed back here'. John smoked a bowl of hash and passed out behind the car. Stupid move John. I shot up with ZoŽ and got back in the car. I haven't seen John since. I coulda swore I saw the new guy get some rope and some tent stakes out of the back seat and go back behind the car. I think he pitched a tent. I think he fucked ZoŽ after that. Maybe I was just high, but I heard thumping in the trunk. He shot a few zombies that got too close. He took me back to the abandoned shelter and said he would be back later with more drugs.


Mark closed his diary, stood up and stretched his arms. He rubbed his forearm sores from where he shot-up the night before with his friends and the strange man. Clyde made a funny face at him and whispered about how stupid he was for doing drugs. Mark flipped him off and walked to the window. He saw a car driving up to the shelter that looked like the one from last night. Clyde again whispered about John and ZoŽ and expressed his worry about their whereabouts.

"Don't worry about them. They are in love, dude. Shit, you ever love somebody?"

Clyde whispered a name, but Mark cut him off before he could go on.

"Damn, I need some painkillers," Mark shouted and walked out of the filthy janitor closet. He stepped over a heaped-up pile of stinking clothes near the doorway and went to the fire exit stairwell.

Clyde didn't follow Mark. Mark had hoped Clyde went back to sleep so he couldn't fuck any more shit up with his mouthy attitude. Mark knew Clyde was best handled with a shot of tequila and few tranquilizers. He loved Clyde for his clear head and quick-wit. His leadership saved Mark's ass more times than Mark chose to remember. He had been with Mark since that first night in the Hospital after Mark was beaten and sent to the infirmary.

Mark stepped outside after checking the windows for any zombies in the area. He met the car as it parked in the alleyway. The man slid out the window because the alley was too narrow to open a door in. Mark thought he was hallucinating when he met the man's eye. He thought his face was turning to stone and his eyes were on fire.

"Hey man, didn't think I'd see you again."

"I had a change of heart."

Mark fidgeted with his rings. He was scared of this man. He wanted to know where his friends were, but he was afraid he would be killed for asking. He looked up at a window trying to figure out where Clyde was.

"What are you looking at, Mark?"

"Nothing.I thought I heard something."

"You look sick, kid. You need a fix?"

Mark wanted to refuse the free drugs. He didn't want to be stoned near this guy, but he couldn't make himself say no. He was nodding his head and gulping air as the man pulled out a needle full.

Mark tapped his forearm, the right arm this time. He was hunting for a vein to shoot. He never saw the needle hit his neck. He just felt the burning fluid rush into his head and send him spinning.

Clyde started screaming at Mark, but he couldn't understand what Clyde was saying. Maybe Clyde was too far away? He could only hear his own heartbeat slowing in his ears.

Mark fell asleep.

Clyde was the first thing he saw when he awoke. He focused in on him from across the room. Mark felt like he was in a familiar environment, but couldn't quite get a feel for where he was. He shook his head and banged it against the hard table he was tied to. It all came back to him. He was having that same old nightmare from before. He was in the treatment room in the hospital's basement. Clyde was standing at the window. The door must have been locked. Clyde couldn't get in the room and didn't move. He just looked at Mark with pained eyes.

Mark lifted his head and scanned the room. His neck protested the move of the head. He saw he was naked before his head fell back to the table with a loud bang.

"Oh, you are awake. Good."

Mark didn't identify the voice coming from across the room. It sounded muffled and distant. Mark felt a leather strap slip across his forehead and tighten in a buckle. He heard metal slapping the floor and wet moaning. He could smell the decay. The voice dragged the stench of fresh death with it when it walked up to Mark's bound body.

A face leaned into Mark's field of view. "Don't you know me, Mark? Or am I talking to Clyde now? I can never tell the difference between you pussies."

Mark recognized the voice and eyes. The cloth white surgical mask completed the sinister package. He realized the man from yesterday was this man, Dr. Faulk, without the mask. He cursed himself for not putting the two faces together. He must have been really craving drugs.

"Son, I'll make this simple. All I want is a confession from you. I am looking for truth. Remember how we reward truth here at Twin Branch Asylum?

Mark hesitated to speak. He feared Dr. Faulk and hated him for the things he did to people. He thought back to days when he would rat out his friends to get a doctor's prescription for the painkillers Faulk got him hooked on.

"Mark, I'll make this simple, answer a question, and I give you a hit. You lie.well, lets just say I won't be the one to discipline you for it."

Mark heard the chains slap and scratch at the floor. He heard the moaning noises again from across the room. There were zombies in the room, probably chained to the wall. Mark pissed on himself. The urine shot up out of his penis and sprayed all over his chest and face. He could hear it dripping off the table onto the cold concrete floor. He heard zombies howl and tug at their restraints. The piss must have hit them, throwing them into hunger frenzy. Their teeth started to clack together.

"Well! Now you have done it, Mark. You 'pissed' them off. I am not sure I can contain them much longer. How will I concentrate to work, hmm?" Dr. Faulk held a small amputation circular saw up in Mark's face as if he was introducing a product to potential buyers. "Now I need to shut them up."

The saw came to life. Mark screamed in pain, drowning out the zombies. The little finger on his right hand was cut off. Mark screamed hysterically as the doctor went to work on the opposite finger on the left hand.

The Doctor dipped Mark's pinkies in the blood flow, thoroughly saturating them like fries in ketchup. As with the saw, he held the fingers in Mark's view, allowing the blood to drip and pool on his forehead, eventually slipping down to his temples.

Mark felt the blood seep through the adjustment holes punched in the belt. He bit back any further screams and tried coping with the pain. His pinkies were gone. He hoped the pain would go away and wondered why his nerves were so sensitive.

"It's a special drug we use here at the hospital with a small mix of amyl nitrate thrown in to relax the muscles. Trust me, you are going to feel every bit of pain I give you, Mark. I tried this stuff last night before I fucked your friend, ZoŽ. What a goddamn orgasm!"

The Doctor turned Mark's head over to the side at a darkened corner. Mark saw a pair of zombies shrouded in the dark clawing at their necks. He saw a flash of metal leashes with chains keeping them attached to the wall.

"Time to feed, kiddies," the Doctor said as he tossed the bloody fingers at the pair of dead bodies. The fingers landed at the feet of the zombies; immediately inciting a barbaric fight for flesh.

Mark thought he heard the doctor laugh with delight over the sound of crunching bone and wet chewing. His head was tipped back to its previous position. Mark was relieved.

"I know things about you, Mark. I know about your imaginary friend, Clyde. He isn't real, you know. You made him up to cope with the abandonment of being placed here against your will. I know you are afraid of many things, Mark. I know what you fear. I am just going to ask you a few questions about your time here. There were only a few survivors at this hospital, Mark. You, me, ZoŽ, John."

Mark cut him off, "and Clyde," he attempted to shout it out in defense of his friend, but could only murmur. He figured Clyde would pick up a chair and try breaking through the glass to save him like he always had in the past.

The Doctor slapped Mark's face with a rubber strap. "Clyde isn't real you fucking nut. I'm talking about someone a little bit more physical. I'm talking about your girlfriend, Gina."

Mark's face flushed. He forgot about the pain in his hands and face. He thought back to Gina and their plans of escape. They started pretending to swallow their drugs and continued to act like crazed idiots long after they had shaken the side effects of withdrawal from the narcotics. Freedom was more important. Mark remembered Clyde going away after being free from the drugs. He was clear-headed and strong. Then the night of their escape came. An orderly caught them in the act and sounded the alarm. Gina was held down, tranquilized and stripped of her clothes. Mark took his needle with a fight. He was knocked unconscious before the orderlies started to rape Gina.

"I have seen her, Mark. I would really like to know what your intentions were with her, Mark. Did you plan to get married? Were you going to have children? Did you ever get the chance to fuck her?"

The Doctor slipped the surgical mask off his mouth, revealing Michael's chiseled sinister features. He grinned at Mark as if meeting him for the first time. He shifted his eyes over Mark's face as if hunting for a sign of recognition.

Mark swallowed a ball of bile that lurched up his throat. He was overwhelmed with the idea his love was alive. He told Michael how he saw her fall from the window and into the arms of some zombie cop. He saw her arm snap back. She just lay there as the zombies approached. He ran for his life in tears.

"Well, I'll have you know Gina is alive and well, Mark. She and I have been together for some time now. I got to fuck her last night against my car. Too bad you won't be able to do that. She doesn't love you anymore because you left her behind."

Mark couldn't bear it. He knew he was about to die a horrible death. The zombies were howling for his blood with undead zeal.

The saw came back to life, spraying tiny spots blood from its blade onto Mark's pale body. The saw screamed in a steady hiss. Michael gently cupped Mark's genitals in his hand.

"You won't be needing this anymore, Mark."

Mark screamed again. The blade chopped and ripped unsteadily through his penis and scrotum. His pelvis felt wet and hot as the blood spurted forth. When the saw died again, he heard a wet slapping sound on the concrete. He knew the zombies were devouring his genitals.

Mark tried to keep his vision from tunneling. He was bleeding to death.

The zombies made short work of Mark's severed member. His head was tipped again toward the zombies.

Michael crossed the room to the zombies, who completely ignored him as he walked behind them to the metal retaining pin keeping them pinned to the hospital wall.

As the pin gave with a metallic grind, the zombie duo lurched forward into the light, revealing the gray-blue faces of John and ZoŽ. Both had suffered serious injuries prior to death. John's entire midsection dragged behind him in a string of mucus. His wrists wore the remnants of last night's binding ropes and stakes. Michael had drugged him before tying him to the ground for the undead to feast upon. ZoŽ died of an apparent gunshot wound to the side and bled to death. Her naked body shimmered with Mark's fresh blood and semen from his scrotum.

Mark looked across the room.through John's missing midsection and looked upon his only friend in the world.the only person unscathed by this nightmare. He looked into Clyde's eyes and winced with the tearing of teeth on his chest and thigh.

Clyde faded.
***********************************


Gina duct taped her sleeping bag to the top of her backpack. She couldn't find the coil of rope Michael brought in with him the day before, so she made do with what she had. She had searched everywhere for it, but it was gone. She knew her escape had to be perfectly planned and go down like clockwork. She had to convince herself that killing Michael was her only option now. He was a threat to her survival. She opened a corner cabinet near the oven hood. She was looking for matches and some fuel to build a campfire. She paused and looked around the kitchen and dining nook. Despite its janitorial look, the basement was very functional and stocked with supplies. Too many supplies for her to carry even without a broken arm. The church was nestled in a wooded region far enough away from a small town to go unnoticed by most ravaging gangs. The road was damaged and treacherous for most compact cars. There was a generator and an oil-burning radiator under the stairs. The windows were too high for any zombie to reach. You could kill an entire gang of scavengers before they knew the bullets were coming from the bell tower.

The bell tower.

.Don't make too much racket to attract the dead

Gina snatched her pistol and bullets from the table and ran for the stairs.

***********************************


Michael felt like he was the ringleader in a circus freak show. He pounded on the steering wheel, drumming out the beat to a song he was composing in his head. The horn groaned with every slap on the wheel. The strained horn blasts startled Michael's trio of undead hood ornament trophies with every bleat. Michael giggled at the zombie's stupidity and short-term memory. Michael trussed them down like deer with their heads facing the dusty street. John's right arm had broken free of the rope and was flailing about worthlessly. Mark's body was drained of blood and was just starting to show stiff signs of undead life. ZoŽ was in a daze staring at the rushing earth below her, wincing only when the horn sounded.

Michael grimaced briefly at the initial sight of Mark's penis sticking out of John's missing midsection, but collected himself and giggled some more. He floored the accelerator in anticipation of seeing Gina again. He rubbed his crotch and shivered.

The dead horde didn't move. They stood in silent reverence and awe. Aside from the ghouls with broken necks, the dead swarm cocked their heads to the heavens and were mesmerized with the ringing of the large church bell.

Gina white knuckled the bell rope with her left hand and had wrapped the slack around her cast. She rang the bell with full weight of her body. The momentum had lifted her completely off the creaky floorboards. Now raising and dropping at a pendulum pace, she held her breath and hoped the cast wouldn't break. Her arm throbbed against the tension of the wrapped rope against the semi-hard paper. Her eardrums were blazing from the loud bell ringing above her head. She shot her gaze across the fields and road. Countless stiff and misshapen shadows approached from all directions. She knew she was safe up here in the church steeple. Even if the dead could tear the wooden doors away from their hinges, it would take a fire or chainsaw to get through the barricade she constructed at the entrance. She had only to worry about Michael and his unknown rage.

Gina let go of the rope and dropped to the floor. The bell continued to ring for several seconds, masking the shuffling and stomping as she crawled to a crack in wooden belfry panel to watch for signs of the Chrysler. She held her breath for a long moment and felt a lump grow in her throat. Her pulse quickened and her forehead was moist with sweat. The earth below her was a choppy sea of movement. The rotting dead swarmed the church like maggots on a dead rat. The lot below stunk of an abattoir. the stench wafted to her high perch, stinging her sinuses. Gina doubted any of the dead could detect her scent from above.

A distant low humming sound was added to the cacophony of moans. Gina spotted Michael's old car approaching. Her blood thickened and her mouth went dry. She began to panic despite her obvious superior position. She dropped flat and hoped the bells wouldn't continue to ring.

Michael was furious at the size of the crowd surrounding the church. The church windows were unbroken and the doors looked sturdy. He couldn't understand what would draw such a large number to the church.

Michael craned his neck out the window as he entered the driveway. He slowed down near a half-devoured waitress in a bloodstained uniform. Michael read her black nametag and whistled at the ghoul. "Excuse me, Doris," he said in a faux southern drawl, "church ain't till Sunday! Can I get some grits and toast?"

The undead Doris swung her bloody stumps at his face and growled. Michael giggled and clumsily dodged her advance on him. He pulled his head back inside and drove over a group of three undead children.

White froth spewed from the mouths of the fresher dead as they snapped their heads around to view the newcomer. They stretched their wraithlike arms and shambled toward the Chrysler as it slowed to a stop. The crowd surged against the old car. Michael gunned the engine forward and crushed an advancing group of zombies under the weight of the large automobile. He laughed and reversed gears - rolling back over the crippled and splintered bodies, adding a few more ghouls to his body count.

Gina summoned her courage and commanded herself to look down to see what Michael was doing. He was truly sick. He tied a trio of zombies to the hood of his car. Whatever he was up to, he was planning on sharing it with her when he returned. She couldn't think of any other reason why he would tie zombies to the car. He was cutting a swath in the horde without lifting a finger. She cocked her head at the spectacle. Was that a penis sticking out from the midsection of one of the zombies? She couldn't take her eyes of the group of dead as Michael drove forward and back over the others. A small spark of recognition was rising in her mind.

Mark.

Michael partially rolled his window down. He slid his pistol out and shot a nearby ghoul near the car door. He killed the engine and stepped out. He looked straight up at the bell tower. He suddenly realized what was going on.

"Gina, I didn't think you would get this lonely! I hope you made enough dinner for all of us!" Michael spun and kicked the head off a rotten zombie trapped under his tire. The head struck another in the chest, knocking it to the ground.

Michael's lips thinned in contemplation over this unexpected situation. There were over a hundred zombies shambling toward him. He climbed onto the roof of the car, hoping to escape the reach of the horde. He divided his gaze between the belfry and the undead.

"Well, here we are again! What have I done to you, Gina? Why did you do this to us? I fixed your arm, made you breakfast. Hell, if it weren't for me, you probably would have died from gangrene or went crazy by now."

Michael took a minute to kick away the zombies like he was a rock star on stage. For the first time in his life, he started to panic.

"LET ME IN YOU FUCKING CUNT! IF YOU DON'T LET ME INSIDE, I'LL HAVE TO FIGHT MY WAY IN THE HARD WAY. IF I MAKE IT IN THERE BY MYSELF, YOU'LL WISH FOR THE DAYS OF BEING GANG RAPED BY ORDERLIES BACK AT THE ASYLUM."

Michael's adrenaline-fueled courage surged. He slid down the windshield and stepped over to Gina's dead friends. He cut ZoŽ loose and dropped her to the ground. He sat on Mark's back, leaned over and reached into John's gut. He removed Mark's penis from the bloody gaping hole. He slapped the penis against Mark's back and then stood up with the mangled member. He waved it around and showed it to the undead. He pitched it behind the fray. The current shifted when the bulk of the horde rushed for the flesh.

Michael's front left tire exploded. He jumped back in shock and nearly fell into the arms of dead Doris. He shot his gaze up at the bell tower and locked eyes with Gina.

"Don't move, you fucker."

Mark's undead blood-drained eyes lifted in dazed recognition of the voice. He absently stared at Gina. His shrunken mouth opened, revealing yellow teeth and blackened gums. He moaned softly at his love. Gina wept at the sight of him. Enraged, she glared back at Michael, bringing her pistol to bear.

"Gina, please." Michael begged.

Gina's pistol thundered. The bullet ripped through Michael's thigh, dropping him off the far side of the Cordoba.

The earth seemed to rush up to meet Michael, striking him in the back and knocking the wind from his lungs.

The undead shambled towards the car. Gina couldn't see Michael's face anymore. She frantically redirected her gaze back to Mark. She took aim at his face and paused. Despite death, she still found him beautiful. Her eyes welled in stinging tears. She cocked her pistol and prepared to put her love out of his misery.

Michael returned fire from his prone position, despite the lack of oxygen attributing to his poor aim. The bullet grazed Gina's broken arm, sending a hot shock of searing pain through her body. The pistol dropped from her grip before she could react, bouncing off the belfry ledge, skittered down the sloped rooftop, and clattered into the attached aluminum gutter. Gina swiped at the gun when it sprang from her grip in the vain attempt at catching it. Forward momentum dragged her slight frame over the waist-high plywood wall. She fell hard onto the peak of the church roof, and rolled down the slippery shingles to the edge.

Remarkably, her cast caught a rusty bolt, allowing her a moment to grip the thin metal retainers that attached the gutter to the roof. Her shins followed through with the rest of her momentum, smacking violently against the whitewashed cinderblock church below the eaves. Another flood of pain charged up her spine, setting off panic alarms in her brain. She bit back the urge to cry and attract attention. She feared a zombie audience beneath her would only encourage her to just let go and get it all over with.

Michael fought a group of undead away from his crumpled form as he stood up to admire Gina's precarious new position. He regained his breath before limping back onto the car. Mark stiffly protested his presence. John flailed his free arm at Michael and clacked his teeth. Blood dripped from Michael's thigh onto John's wrist, causing John to moan and bite on on the appendage with passionate zeal.

Gina desperately gripped the support rod and tried not to kick her legs. She was at least thirty feet from the earth, and her view was limited. She could hear the undead below, and she knew Michael was enjoying what he saw. She felt the skin in her hand peel and bleed. If she dropped, she would probably survive the impact with broken legs, but she would be an easy picking for the dead. She was certain Michael would be able to defeat the zombies. She was torn between what fate would be worse.eaten alive by zombies, or incapacitated in the care of a twisted and enraged Michael. She would be tortured, taunted and probably raped. How did he know about the orderlies at the hospital? Why did he go out to find Mark and the others? The coincidence was too unlikely.

He was laughing.

She suddenly realized who Michael was. Her mind flooded her veins with adrenaline. The pain waned as her strength returned with a rush. She slammed her cast into the gutter, bending both slightly. She shot her left arm over to a nearby drainpipe. Shifting her center of gravity, she pulled herself over to the pipe, which immediately bent under her weight.

Michael busied himself pushing the dead away from the car with the heels of his feet, indiscriminately crushing the skulls of the taller ones who were close enough to kill. He caught of brief glimpse of Gina, but couldn't understand what she was doing. He was convinced she was about to die. He figured he could drag her broken body up to the car and get that fuck he was craving just before she lost her body heat and reanimated.

The pipe creaked under her frame, pulling the attached gutter away from the roof with it. Gina could see the horde below her. Her actions were raising hell on the ground. Nearly every zombie watched her and waited like obedient dogs.

She winced at the heavy scrape of metal-on-metal. Her gamble paid off. The pistol slid into the hand of her wedged broken arm. She continued the slow and deliberate decent to the ground. She braced for impact, hoping the momentum wouldn't stun her the same as it had done to Michael, trapping her under the weight of the pipe and gutter. She unfurled her legs from around the pipe and prepared to ground them on impact. She swung them sharply in hopes of deflecting any rotting mouths or hands.

The dead didn't move while she descended in a slow arc from the building. The bulk of the group stood stupefied and transfixed on her near the church wall. They stiffly shifted their gaze to watch her fall. A few zombies were beating their broken fists and bloody stumps on the church doors, ignorant to what was transpiring above their heads.

She hit the ground softer than expected, with time enough to move away from the gutter before it crashed to the ground, snapping the zombies out of their hunger trance. They sluggishly converged on their new target. Her landing even attracted the attention of the group surrounding the Cordoba. Michael looked exhausted, barely keeping a grip on his pistol. His pant leg was soaked with his blood. Again, he met her gaze.

Gina leveled her pistol at the zombies and fired, clearing a path to the car. She dashed to the passenger door, and tried the door handle despite seeing the lock button engaged. She had given up the edge and tactical advantage she had over Michael. She was so transfixed on the door; she completely ignored Michael towering above her.

Michael delivered a bone-cracking blow to Gina's face with his injured thigh. Blood exploded from her nostrils and trailed her body as she sailed backward, collapsing by the rear tire. Michael triumphantly dropped from the car and stood straddled over Gina. He threw his left elbow back, smashing the face of an advancing ghoul before plugging it with a bullet. He looked down at Gina, and felt the arousal surge against his chest and pants.

As if she sensed his libido intensify, Gina raised a foot into Michael's crotch. He toppled forward, smashing his chin on the pavement. Three teeth bit through his upper lip. Michael blindly reached back and snatched a heap of Gina's hair and pulled himself up, painfully dragging her with him. He stumbled back against the car and heaved his frame to the trunk away from the approaching dead with Gina in tow. After steadying himself, he pulled the lip away from the teeth and wiped the blood off his mouth. He smeared it across Gina's lips with a shaky caress.

Gina's eyes were swelling. She was starting to black out from her broken nose. She pushed away from Michael with force, ripping a patch of hair out of her head. Michael stared in shock the hair in his hand as he fell behind the car. Gina fired at him as he dropped, but missed and struck the trunk instead.

Michael's hand scratched at the trunk in the vain effort of stopping himself. The trunk sprang open, unleashing the blonde pair of women he imprisoned, now undead and free of their bonds. The women heaved their torsos with distressed and eager grunts, descending onto their captor.

Gina stumbled in shock to get a better view. Her brain was attempting to process what had just happened in a matter of split seconds. She gazed with mixed emotions of horror and pleasure at the grotesque return of poetic justice. The naked undead women tore at Michael's clothes like groupies.

Snarling mouths ripped into his tanned chest and pelvis. Michael fixed his gaze on Gina one last time. He didn't have the breath to make a sound, but he mouthed a "thank you" to her and actually winked before he was overwhelmed with the pain of the two women feasting on him. His face contorted into a twisted grimace of ecstasy when his throat was ripped out and his body finally quit jerking.

Gina smirked and delivered a bullet to Michael's forehead. The shot startled the zombie duo. She shot them before they could focus their attention on her. She collected Michael's pistol and car keys and faced the closest zombies.

After cutting cut John and Mark free from the car hood, she allowed herself to cry when she shot them. She climbed into the driver's seat and revived the engine. Her face was awash in hot tears and blood. She drove away slowly, drawing the horde from the church as she went, leaving her pain behind.

***********************************


Epilogue:

After darkness came, Gina rechecked the door's security and walked through the church's upper level. She stopped to check her handiwork at boarding the window she broke to get back in. She took the back stairs to the basement. She strode into the kitchen and dropped her pistol on the countertop. She poured a cup of sugar-free punch and smiled. After a quick sip, she made a mental note to take a shower and find some bullets.


-- END --



This story revised for clarity from the original posted on Homepage of the Dead. You can e-mail Ken Gentner at .



All work is the property of its author and is reprinted with permission. All Things Zombie owns none of the rights to the stories herein. For information on how to obtain the rights to these stories, please consult the author.

Copyright © 2002-03 - All Things Zombie.com
Best viewed with IE 6 at 1024x768
Trademarks belong to their respective owners.
All Rights Reserved.
 

NEWEST FICTION
08/12/04
NetZombie

08/12/04
Kyle, Ted, and the Exxon Station

08/04/04
Epidemic

05/24/04
It's Just No Good Anymore

03/24/04
Case One: Peter Morris

SPONSORS