Dead Means Dead

“Shoot him, shoot him again, he’s stills alive Robert!” my wife screamed over my constant firing. I’d hit him three times already, but I’m running out of ammo. This damn thing wouldn’t stop coming forward.

“Robert! Do something!” she screams. I run full speed at this thing, driving it through our front window. Little did I know, he had friends. They all start coming in the door I just made.

“Are you serious, Robert!” my wife yells.

“You’re not helping!!” I reply with harshness. So she grabs a huge knife from a kitchen drawer, and starts swinging at them. She cuts several chunks off their bodies, but the keep coming. They were lifeless, but so full of it at the same time. Powerful beings these things. My wife, continuing her knife duties. She slices one in the neck, and then plunges the knife into its skull. It goes down.

“I killed one!” she exclaimed.

“Nice job, hun, now care to throw me a blade?” I ask as I avoid being bitten. I catch the sloppily thrown knife out of the air. Immediately I start shoving my blade into craniums, and their numbers fell. My wife doing her work as well. We saved the children. That’s what really matters. As we look around at the piles of bodies, we notice coworkers, neighbors, friends, relatives, teachers, and doctors. It was our whole town. Dead. Left for nothing, and we killed most of them. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. It took a lot of strength,and courage. I’m glad she was by my side through it all.

We go to let the children out of the den. It was the safest place at the time. None of the children were my wife, and I’s. They were neighboring kids, and children from the school down the street. Their was only twelve kids left when they showed up on our street. How they survived, I don’t know. The door was opened to the den. It was silent. We looked in after retrieving our key, and notice four kids left. They were well overweight from devouring the other children. They were silent, because they were still eating. My wife slowly closes the door, as she should. Panic runs through my veins. We decide to head to our car.

We reach the doors finally. After removing a good amount of bodies. We walk outside, where the sun shines the ground, making us like giants. We still hear nothing. No car engines, birds, people, nothing. Then off in the distance we see them. Hundreds more then we dealt with earlier, now we have no ammo, and hand to hand would be impossible with the numbers. We run inside. I do my best to barricade the door, while my wife does the same to the den.

Minutes go by before they start snarling, and scratching at the doors, and windows. Disembodied voices, repeating the same phrases. “Wake up, Wake Up, Wake up”

I then opened my eyes, and see my cellmate. “Chows coming” he snarls.

“I was having a crazy dream, man” I tell him.

“Most don’t dream in here, near impossible,” he says.

“I know man, but this one was weird. Fighting zombies, kids eating kids, it was gruesome! Oh, and I had a wife!”

“Bob, you did have a wife, you ate her remember?” he replied after the guards slide our breakfast through.

“You gonna eat that cereal?” he finishes as Bob sits pale white for his 9,000th day forgetting his crimes.

  • Rose Morrison

    Interesting story. Would read better with an edit, to remove grammatical and spelling errors. The ending is very hurried, could do with a little expansion there to make it appear less rushed. I look forward to more from you.