The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead by Steven Ramirez Page A

short, piercing chirps that broke the stillness of the room. His ears seemed to prick. She directed her dead eyes back at me, and Fred came at me like a linebacker in sudden death. She was giving him commands!
    I heard a siren. A moment later, two EMTs rushed in with Stacey.
    “Careful,” I said. “They’re dangerous.”
    Too late. Missy turned and swiped a ravaged claw at an EMT’s face, ripping it half off. Wailing and grabbing the raw flesh and bone, he fell back, blood gushing everywhere, while the second EMT tried to grab her.
    Fred and Missy went after the second man. With the efficiency of wolves, they went to work on him, starting with his throat.
    “What’s happening?” Stacey said.
    As I jumped past, Missy grabbed me and sank her teeth into my shoe. But the bite didn’t go through the leather. Kicking her in the face, I grabbed Stacey and forced her out of the room.
    In the main part of the store, I screamed for everyone to get out. The few customers we had didn’t know what was happening. All at once they tried to make it through the inner exit door, but panicked, they jammed it up.
    “One at a time!” I said.
    Now Missy and Fred were there. I looked back as the customers went out. Then I grabbed Stacey by the hand and dragged her towards the inner door, but there were still people going out the door.
    “Come on,” I said.
    I tried the manager’s office in the front. I could lock us in there till more help arrived. As usual, the door was locked. I tried finding the right key as Stacey whimpered behind me.
    “Dave, hurry!”
    Before I could get her into the office, Missy leapt ten or twelve feet over the checkout station and brought Stacey down like she were a gazelle.
    “Dave!”
    I tried hitting Missy with the broom handle, and it snapped in two. Missy feasted on Stacey’s eyes, tongue and throat. She must have hit an artery, because a jet of hot blood pumped rhythmically onto the front windows of the store like an automatic sprinkler. This excited Missy even more, and she washed her face in it as Fred joined in.
    Repulsed, I tried to make it through the outer exit doors, but Fred grabbed me, screeching. Pulling back for a second, I gripped the broken broom handle and shoved the jagged end hard through his open mouth. It stuck there, and as he staggered in circles trying to dislodge it, I saw it protruding from the back of his neck.
    I made it outside, where a cop stared in horror at what was happening. It was dark out, and the parking-lot lights cast everything in a sickly orange glow.
    Missy came out, hungry only for my blood. The policeman drew his gun and fired at her, hitting her in the arms and chest and driving her back.
    “The head!” I said. “Shoot her in the head!”
    But he was out. He tried to reload as Missy straightened up and continued towards us. She was three feet in front of us when two more cop cars screeched to a stop. Seeing them, Missy fled around the side of the building. The cops in those cars went after her.
    I sat on the ground, covered in Stacey’s blood. I didn’t think I was bit, but I felt like passing out.
    “I don’t understand,” the stunned officer said.
    “Can’t you see what they are?” I said. “They’re all dead .”
    Fred, still trying to dislodge the broom handle, stumbled outside, lowing like a cow that had fallen into a pit.
    “Holy shit!” the cop said.
    “You need to kill it.”
    “But he’s still …”
    Disgusted, I grabbed his gun, took aim and fired repeatedly at Fred’s head. God help me, it felt good. A bullet tore through Fred’s left eye and he dropped, his body propped up at an unnatural angle on the broom handle.
    The two other cops came jogging back over to us, their guns still drawn. I recognized one of them as Norm, the one who had arrested me. The scared cop took his gun back and pointed it at me. “You’re under arrest!” he said in a high, Barney Fife voice.
    “Put the gun away,” Norm said. “Can’t you see it