The First Zombie
Page 6
used to be Dave was above explanation and lunged forth into his place of work. “You’re drunk!” Still no need. Fucking idiot. Into the darkness of the warehouse door. Into the bleakness of the job the monster that used to be Dave used to do before he died his last death. If Dave were still there he would have wished it were true. And that he was drunk. Drink took the pain away but it always came back. Even the monster that used to be Dave hoped for the sake of Dave that his last death would take it away and leave it away. The monster that used to be Dave possessed, and only for a time before he was long gone, a hollow and blank echo of his person. What word might sum up, if the monster might manage one more, fuelled only by the echo, to sum up his feelings of Dave’s former boss? This fool who stood before the First Zombie and dared to think he was in full control of the situation. What word might fit? But what would be the point? No word was needed. Only this last gift for Dave’s soul to uplift.
The monster that used to be Dave lunged forth and sunk deep his teeth into the man that used to be Dave’s boss’ arm. The scream, though quite literally to fall only upon dead ears, pierced into the old night’s air. Blood gushed freely as the monster that used to be Dave chewed contently on the first lump of flesh torn from the arm. The man that used to be Dave’s boss recoiled and howled. Too shocked to move. Too crippled to protest. The man who talked the talk but fell at the first shot. When the zombies come. As they have. Those guys get eaten first. And so it is. Another lunge and another limb, another bite and another scream. Until the monster that used to be Dave had his fill. And the man that used to be his boss died from living death in turn.
This brings us to our last question. What was the point in this story? Dave was dead. Dead like you. But Dave was the first Zombie too. That much he now knew. So what does it matter? Because now there are two. And one of them is you.