“Tomorrow night?”
“Sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’ll come pick
you up.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Switching Sides
Jennifer was the most accomplished zombie
killer in the force. She had never lost a teammate, and her kills
were quick and clean. Therefore, she was sent in on the most
dangerous missions, since the captain knew she would get the job
done.
That night was supposed to be an easy one. “It’s
just a small group of zombies living in this foreclosed property on
the edge of town. The bank is trying to resell the house, but they
won’t leave.”
She took a couple rookies that needed the
experience, and they loaded up in the Hummer. They pulled up to the
house just as the sun started to set.
As usual, they gave no warning and swarmed out
of the car as soon as it was in park. One hunter went to the front
door to stand guard, while the other circled the outside watching
the windows. Jennifer went to the back door and kicked it in.
She was used to the zombies waiting to pounce on
her as soon as she entered, but the house seemed calm. Her mind
screamed, “Trap!” and she was on alert.
Instead, an unseen voice called from the other
room, “Wait! Let’s talk.”
“Who are you? This place is infected with
zombies, you need to get out while you can,” Jennifer called
back.
“Not possible,” the voice said reasonably. “I am
a zombie.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “Zombies can’t talk.”
“How do you know? Have you ever tried talking to
one?”
“No need.”
“Just listen,” he pleaded. “We’ve done no harm.
We’ve hurt no one. We just want to be left alone.”
“This isn’t your house.” Jennifer caught herself
starting to relax, and pulled her gun back upright.
“Yes it is. I’ve never missed a single payment,
not even after I died. The bank takes my money, but doesn’t apply
it to my account. There’s no reason for them to kick me out of my
house.”
“Sure there is. Zombies aren’t citizens, they
can’t own property.”
“I was a citizen when I died. Why should that be
different now? Listen, Jennifer-”
“How do you know my name?” she demanded.
A man stepped out into the middle of the living
room with his arms raised in surrender. “It’s me, Kent, your
fiancé.”
How had she not noticed the address, not
recognized the house? She was in the zone and wasn’t even aware of
her surroundings. Now she saw. Her picture sat on the coffee table.
She had bought the tablecloth sitting on the kitchen table. An
unused bread maker, an early wedding present, sat unused on the
counter.
“Not possible. You died. You were killed by a
zombie.”
“No,” he said. “I was killed by a zombie hunter.
Frank. His stray bullet hit me when he was firing at my friend
Jake. Jake bit me so that I could live on.”
Ugh, Frank. He was the most reckless of the
group and had lost the most team members to both zombies and
accidents.
“Why did you leave me?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I’ve been here all along,
waiting for you to come back. You got so caught up in your
vengeance that you forgot about me.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her gun.
He held his arms out for an embrace, and she ran
to him. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I won’t ever leave you
again.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Slave
His steel blue
eyes were full of tears, but his face remained composed. As much as
he tried to hide it, I could tell he was touched.
I hate to brag, but if it wasn’t for me, he
wouldn’t even be alive. Or still undead, I guess that would be a
better way to put it.
It all started when I moved into this
godforsaken city. When my job was looking for volunteers to
relocate, I was excited to get away from the town I had grown up
in. It was time for a new start.
My girlfriend of three years had just broken up
with me for the guy who used to be the captain of the football
team. She said she was looking for someone more manly. I can’t say
I
“Sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’ll come pick
you up.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Switching Sides
Jennifer was the most accomplished zombie
killer in the force. She had never lost a teammate, and her kills
were quick and clean. Therefore, she was sent in on the most
dangerous missions, since the captain knew she would get the job
done.
That night was supposed to be an easy one. “It’s
just a small group of zombies living in this foreclosed property on
the edge of town. The bank is trying to resell the house, but they
won’t leave.”
She took a couple rookies that needed the
experience, and they loaded up in the Hummer. They pulled up to the
house just as the sun started to set.
As usual, they gave no warning and swarmed out
of the car as soon as it was in park. One hunter went to the front
door to stand guard, while the other circled the outside watching
the windows. Jennifer went to the back door and kicked it in.
She was used to the zombies waiting to pounce on
her as soon as she entered, but the house seemed calm. Her mind
screamed, “Trap!” and she was on alert.
Instead, an unseen voice called from the other
room, “Wait! Let’s talk.”
“Who are you? This place is infected with
zombies, you need to get out while you can,” Jennifer called
back.
“Not possible,” the voice said reasonably. “I am
a zombie.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “Zombies can’t talk.”
“How do you know? Have you ever tried talking to
one?”
“No need.”
“Just listen,” he pleaded. “We’ve done no harm.
We’ve hurt no one. We just want to be left alone.”
“This isn’t your house.” Jennifer caught herself
starting to relax, and pulled her gun back upright.
“Yes it is. I’ve never missed a single payment,
not even after I died. The bank takes my money, but doesn’t apply
it to my account. There’s no reason for them to kick me out of my
house.”
“Sure there is. Zombies aren’t citizens, they
can’t own property.”
“I was a citizen when I died. Why should that be
different now? Listen, Jennifer-”
“How do you know my name?” she demanded.
A man stepped out into the middle of the living
room with his arms raised in surrender. “It’s me, Kent, your
fiancé.”
How had she not noticed the address, not
recognized the house? She was in the zone and wasn’t even aware of
her surroundings. Now she saw. Her picture sat on the coffee table.
She had bought the tablecloth sitting on the kitchen table. An
unused bread maker, an early wedding present, sat unused on the
counter.
“Not possible. You died. You were killed by a
zombie.”
“No,” he said. “I was killed by a zombie hunter.
Frank. His stray bullet hit me when he was firing at my friend
Jake. Jake bit me so that I could live on.”
Ugh, Frank. He was the most reckless of the
group and had lost the most team members to both zombies and
accidents.
“Why did you leave me?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I’ve been here all along,
waiting for you to come back. You got so caught up in your
vengeance that you forgot about me.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her gun.
He held his arms out for an embrace, and she ran
to him. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I won’t ever leave you
again.”
(back to
TOC)
****
Slave
His steel blue
eyes were full of tears, but his face remained composed. As much as
he tried to hide it, I could tell he was touched.
I hate to brag, but if it wasn’t for me, he
wouldn’t even be alive. Or still undead, I guess that would be a
better way to put it.
It all started when I moved into this
godforsaken city. When my job was looking for volunteers to
relocate, I was excited to get away from the town I had grown up
in. It was time for a new start.
My girlfriend of three years had just broken up
with me for the guy who used to be the captain of the football
team. She said she was looking for someone more manly. I can’t say
I
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