Zombie Society - They Live Among Us

Zombie Society - They Live Among Us by K. Bartholomew

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Authors: K. Bartholomew
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the inter-mort war.” Schwieber said.
    The plan was to crash the economy under its own debt and use the media to drive each side against the other.
    Redshield straightened, commanding silence from the tribe members. “We speed things up by bringing in zombies from Mexico, from Africa, from Asia, from any-fucking-where. We pay for their transit, their settling, health, education, clothes, food, kid’s college fund, their shit stained underwear, everything. Any human who complains – Label him a mortist and ruin him.”
    Goldstein snorted. The zombies who’d become used to the good life wouldn’t be very happy when the economy suddenly crashed and all those goodies were cut off. They’d be sure to blame the Goyim for everything – With a little help from the media and government.
    Redshield spoke, “we continue to fund their existences in America, in all western nations. We help them to breed more, especially with humans. At the same time, we tax the humans more, thus preventing them from being able to breed like the cockroaches they are.” Redshield laughed, “they’re so brainwashed, they even celebrate their own demise.”
    The tribe slapped the table in unison; again and again and again, whooping in joy.
    Then Schweiber, the ever cautious, held up a finger in warning. “We have a problem.”
    Redshield closed his eyes, rubbing them through his wrinkled eyelids. The painful part of the meeting had arrived, but it had to be addressed nonetheless. “Speak.”
    “Israel, our sacred, beloved Israel is experiencing a rise in the zombie population.” Schweiber wiped a tear from his eye, the silence permeated the air.
    But as Goldstein and everybody else knew, the problem could still be controlled and dealt with. “Then we must deport these zombies to Europe with haste.” He banged a fist on the table. “We cannot allow mother Israel to suffer from the same turmoil we are heaping on the rest of the world.”
    Redshield nodded. “It’s done!” He looked to the media barons around him. “And there will be no news of this to the rest of the world.”
    Goldstein breathed, he’d worked up an appetite. Lobster was on the way and it was sure to taste sweeeeet. “No news will get out!” It would be just like the time they used birth control injections to prevent the female zombies in Israel from giving birth.
    Victory would soon be theirs.

Pride
     
    The flags had been flying from nearly every public building in Boston and all surrounding suburbs for almost a month in anticipation. The black flag with a big round red circle in the center, probably to symbolize blood, had become the unifying flag of the dead. Some flags had their own modifications, many with crude depictions of brains, perhaps to represent the dead’s hopes and dreams for the future.
    The city had clearly put its entire weight, along with its money, resources and manpower behind today’s event. It was finally here – Dead Pride Day.
    John heard the groan belching from amplifiers long before the first float was in sight. If you chose not to participate in Dead Pride Day, not only were you frowned at, you still had to live with the gargling sounds scaring the dogs. The whole neighborhood turned into a cacophony of howling mixed with the snapping jaws of the dead. Then the lyrics started. “ Gone get me some human hos with me pocket fulla’ Ben Franks.” Then , “zombies in the Bronx call me Lex cause I push a Lex, and I rock a Rolex and I lounge on Lex', and I love sex .”
    It was a Saturday morning and John and the family had just returned from a bike ride through the nearby woods. For whatever reason, the dead tended not to feel much affinity for nature and so it was one place John could go to get away from it all. But as the convoy of floats rumbled along the street, out of curiosity more than anything else, the family left their bikes in the back yard and went to watch the procession. They could clean away the mud and leaves from the

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