Horror Story:Final

I left off where a stranger whose name I did not mention was driving me a short distance to off a few mindless zombies with a couple of coins and a paper clip.


Curiosity was driving me more than anything. “So stranger, what’s your name?”

“I go by Mickey.”

“Why are you trying to kill them off, Mickey. I won’t be long before we’re like them.”

He turned his head my way. If looks could kill… “No, we won’t. The new sun was meant to cleanse our species. They will be dead. We will remain.”

“If you say so. Are we almost there? I really have to get back on the road to Florida.”

He didn’t answer. We reached a dead end. The car came to a halt. We jumped out. He had a bat in hand. I was armed with my trusty coins and paper clip. What a joke.

“Here they come!” he yelled. Then he yelled some more.

He swung his bat around like a madman, hollered at the zombies. They worshipped him with glacial eyes. The hunger shone behind them. I felt the kinship. They were a part of the change, a part of me.
I placed the coins and paper clip in my pocket, reached out to one of the zombies. The rotting creature took my hand. I yanked his arm off. Mickey egged me on. He swung the bat again, stepped forward to attack the zombies. I used the severed arm and clunked him on the back of the head. He fell to the ground.

“Chow down, now,” I cooed. “Good little zombies.”

They pounced on the fallen Mickey and peeled off his flesh. The delectable stench of his blood filled the air. I felt urge to pet them, but thought better of it. While they enjoyed their deserved meal, I hopped in Mickey’s car and drove away.

David was waiting for me in the SUV outside the diner. “Took you long enough,” he said.

I smiled. “I know. I almost felt sorry for him. Just like every other fool, he thought he could trust me.”

“Men can‘t resist such a pretty face.”

“Come on. Help me pilfer the gas. We don’t have all day.”

Hours later, as planned, we were in Florida. As I entered my parent’s household I was greeted by warm hugs and moist kisses. It didn’t matter if it smelled like someone had died and rotted away, or that cousin Benny had lost an ear and an eyeball.

Mom offered me a bowl of soup. She was always so hospitable.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said.

I took the bowl, raised it to my face, and took a whiff. “Smell yummy, mom. What is it?”

“Kitten soup.”

I stirred the tiny carcass with my spoon. The fumes tickled my nose. I slurped some of the broth. I couldn’t eat the kitten, but I wouldn’t tell her that. Instead, I made my way to the guestroom where David was waiting with the dogs. I took the carcass out and fed it to them. With my husband I shared the broth. Later we would dig for bugs. Maybe dad would let us use his toes to create maggots.

We were zombies. We were family. The most important thing is that we stayed together.


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