Zombies Are People Too Archives

August 23, 2007

Sealyon: Even Zombies Get the Blues

How can I be this hungry? he thought. I died 4 days ago.

And then he would think, How can I be thinking? I died. I remember it. How can I remember it?

And then, How can I be this hungry? Aren’t I dead?

His thoughts chase each other endlessly, always coming back to hunger. Hunger so overpowering that he doesn’t recognize his wife, his parents, his children, or his neighbors as he attacks them with a strange new strength, cracks their egg-like skulls, and gorges on the yolk inside. Finally satisfied.

How can I be hungry? Aren’t I dead?

Permalink • Comments (1)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

October 4, 2007

Sealyon: Zombie Love

How can I be hungry? Aren't I dead?

It's been this way for weeks. His memory fades and returns; all he knows is that he's hungry and dead. Sometimes his mind is briefly awake: he thinks, Where's my family? My wife?

Mercifully, he doesn't remember eating her.

Dimly, he sees people run from him. Once, there was gunfire.

I'm so hungry.

Now he walks with another woman, not his wife; she doesn't run away. They meet a man in the road, wrestle him to the ground, open his skull; their eyes meet over his warm brains.

Finally, someone who understands.

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

October 12, 2007

Sealyon: What Happened Next

Daylight is safer, but not safe enough. She can see what looks like a pile of people at the corner. They appear dead, but one can never tell these days. She clicks the safety off her 9mm and walks slowly toward the bodies.

In a darkened doorway, he is still with what passes for sleep. Her smell – blood and life – rouses him. I’m so hungry. Her blonde hair reminds him of something.

One of the bodies raises its torso straight up, an unnatural posture. She calmly fires 5 rounds into its head, too intent to notice him leaving the doorway.

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

May 5, 2008

Sealyon: The Monday After

As she sticks her gun in her waistband, he grabs her. The doorway was in her blind spot; she never realized he was there. He's slow, but strong.

Fuck.

He's slow enough that she has time to notice him: he seems pretty fresh, and for a moment he actually looks at her. Weird. They don't look at you, they just chew. Arms pinned to her sides; if he'll shift just for a better grip, she could get the gun.

C'mon, you dumb shit, go for my head.

He does, grabs fistfuls of her hair…

What? Did he just say something?

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

June 26, 2008

Sealyon: A Breakthrough

Discipline is what keeps her from freezing. Long days – weeks, months – of wandering the cities on her own, keeping herself safe, and a lot of killing: it's a discipline no less than that of any martial art practice. No less than the soldiers' training, before they also succumbed to the endless tide of walking dead.

Mah…

My God, he did say something. Although her brain screams that it's not possible, she listens. Stops struggling. He stops pulling.

Mah…

Jesus, his breath is disgusting. Breath? On a zombie?

Ree.

Mah. Ree. What the hell? Oh.

She says it out loud: "Marie."

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

March 31, 2009

Caitlin: Maybe the Apocalypse is Kinder

As she rested in the shade of the old barn, she considered how her life had changed.

Four months ago, she was worried about her promotion; if Don was going to help take care of Mom; if David would propose; about if Sherry would stand her up for dinner again.

Today, Don, Mom, David, and Sherry are all dead. Or sort of dead. Today, she worries about finding food, water, and enough ammunition to get through the day.

The stress is much higher now. But life is much simpler.

She’s hard put to say that now is worse than then.

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

May 10, 2010

Caitlin: Happy Mother's Day

It never quite turns out like you expect, John sighed.

He’d gathered all the ingredients, drawn the circle and other symbols, cut the chicken’s throat at just the right moment. It worked: there she was, just like he remembered her. Beautiful, young - you’d never guess she’d been dead for seven years. He did it for himself, true, but for her too; for them, for the kids who now won’t have to grow up motherless.
It’s not like he expected fawning gratitude, but he sure didn’t think she’d be screaming at him.

“John, what have you done? I was happy!”

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

June 1, 2010

Caitlin: A Zombie in the Hand is Worth...

I knew it was dangerous, but I figured as long as we had enough firepower and enough chain, we’d be okay. Besides, it made surviving so much easier. The hardest part about firepower was just getting to the shops alive: Spot solved that.

Not that it was easy keeping a live zombie in camp. He made weird noises, and when the chain clanked, we’d start awake, grabbing guns. We finally decided on Valium and a nightly watch schedule. Each of us would get a good night’s sleep at least three nights a week. Until Brian fell asleep during his watch.

Permalink • Comments (0)     Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit