Eye Witness: Zombie

by Lederman, William

  When I tripped, my head made contact with the floor with a loud crack, causing my vision to blur and an instant headache to arise. Through blurry eyes I could make out a small figure racing in my direction across the floor. I realized, too late, that it was the undead girl. With disbelief I watched as she reached me, caught hold of my arm, and sank her rotten teeth into my flesh. I began screaming, punching the vile creature repeatedly in the face until she let loose. A large portion of my forearm left with her. Excruciating pain and blood flow was immediate.

  Still screaming, I rose to my feet and swung downward with my machete with as much strength as I could muster, severing the monster’s head. I frantically chopped at the body, in a panic, until nothing resembling a human being remained. The head sat at the foot of the desk staring at me, working its mouth, snapping its teeth together; Blood—my blood, I thought—caked her face. I stomped it, and continued stomping, leaving nothing but fragments of skin, brains, and bits of bone pulped on the floor. While I fought with the zombie, Murder had dealt with the crazed, balding pedophile.

  After falling and knocking the undead to the floor, Murder had felt the paunchy man land on him, unleashing blows to his back and skull. Murder slung his head up and backward, smashing the man’s nose flat against his face, sending him sprawling on the floor. The man hastily rose to his feet, intending to turn and flee.

  Murder regained his footing and charged the man. Colliding, they tumbled out the door into the stock room, falling into a fifty-two inch plasma television, smashing the screen. The balding man landed on top of Murder and began frantically pummeling him with blows.

  Murder was tired of this child-raping bastard. He gripped the man by the throat, squeezed vehemently and heard something crunch while rising to his feet. A wild look of insanity came into Murder’s eyes. Standing, Murder punched the pervert repeatedly, shattering the man’s cheek bones, relishing the way the bone felt as it crushed under his fist.

  Murder released the crazy man, sending him crumb-ling to the floor, unconscious. He withdrew his hunting knife, leaned over the man and stabbed him in the throat. The man’s eyes popped open, staring at Murder with disbelief. With blood from his busted lips painting his teeth red, Murder grinned like a lunatic in the dying man’s face and said, “I’m enjoying this. It’s been a while since I’ve killed scum like you. Thank you.” The man stopped breathing and lay still.

  Horrid, insane screams were coming from the office. Murder realized they’d been going on since he had started fighting with the balding man. He pulled his knife from the man’s throat and sprinted back into the office. Body parts littered the floor; gore covered the walls and even the ceiling. Ace stood in the center of that nightmare holding a machete, screaming at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth, staring at what used to be a little girl. Blood gushed from the open wound on one forearm which was already turning a purplish-black color and emiting a decaying odor.

  “Ace,” Murder said firmly. No response.

  “Ace,”he tried again, louder. Still nothing. He stepped toward him, tapped him on the shoulder.

  I spun, raising my weapon, still screaming. “Wait!” Murder, brought his arms up in defense. I began to lower the machete, breathing heavily. I started to cry. Murder put an arm around my shoulders supporting me while I wept. After I had regained my composure I told Murder about the kid zombie biting my arm.

  “Shit,” replied Murder. “You know what has to be done, right?”

  Sobbing uncontrollably, I answered, “Yeah…I know. What about my wife and daughter? How will they make it without me?”

  “You got a picture of ‘em in your wallet?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, give me the pics. I’ll find ‘em, see that they’re safe.” While I dug in my wallet, looking for the pictures, Murder reloaded his weapon with ammunition from his backpack. He had a few grenades in there that he had appropriated from some lazy military bums, sitting around, slacking on the job.

  “Here’s one of Shannon and Amy together, and another one of just my wife. How will you find them?” I asked, concerned tears stinging my eyes.

  “I don’t know. You said they were taken by military. I know of a few military groups around here. I’ll check those first,” Murder responded, holstering his weapon.

  A sudden explosion came from the front, outside the store, rumbling the ground we sat on, sending framed photographs on the wall clattering to the floor. Murder was on his feet in an instant. Already becoming sluggish from the infection flowing through my veins, I took more time to rise. Together we walked through the stockroom and into the main store area.

  The front door had been blown off, the windows shattered. The security bars were still in place everywhere except over the door, to which they had been connected. Laughter and gunfire could be heard outside, and the always constant blaring of the dead.

  “Sounds like someone’s throwing a party out there without us,” Murder joked. I disregarded Murder’s comment, focused instead on the noises that came from outside.

  “NO! NO DON’T,” a woman outside screamed in terror followed by raucous laughter from the men.

  “That’s Shannon! We have to help her!” I cried rushing for the door. Murder grabbed me by my uninjured arm and pulled me back. “What the fuck are you doing,” I asked angrily. “Let go goddammit! I have to save her!”

  “They’ll shoot you dead if you just go runnin’ out there! How would you save your wife then?” Murder responded loudly.

  “We have to do something!” I pleaded.

  “Give me a minute to think,” Murder stated, prepared for an outburst from me. He needed to think and think quickly. I stood, anxiously, looking to the door and back to Murder intermittently.

  “Why don’t you go and find me a rifle,” he said, “one with a scope. By the time you get back with it, I’ll hopefully, have a plan.” I took off toward the gun section behind the counter.

  Murder drew his Springfield nine millimeter and cautiously made his way to the fire-engulfed entrance. Outside he could still hear women screaming and men laughing.

  He crept up to one of the broken windows, which weren’t quite consumed with flames yet, and had a look into the street. Sure enough, the military shits were out there with Shannon and Amy—Murder recognized them from the photographs—held hostage. “This is either a stroke of luck or a stroke of shit,” he mumbled, thinking of the irony.

  I hobbled up behind him carrying the rifle and extra ammunition. Propping the weapon against the wall, I joined Murder at the window. We saw three cadets, driving the same Hummer that had towed my wife and daughter away earlier, and an army-green Jeep with the top removed—a machinegun turret attached to the back.

  The Hummer and Jeep were pulled side by side about sixty feet from our location at the door. Two soldiers were on the roof of the Hummer; one of them, muscular, held Shannon by the ankle, dangling her over a horde of groping, clawing zombies, teasing them. Her horrified screams filled me with dismay and terror. Amy was held down by the other soldier, an angular, lanky guy. She was crying as she watched her mother’s torture.

  Inside the pawn shop I could feel the infection sluicing through my veins, pumping poison with each beat of my dilapidated heart. Soon now. Very soon, I thought miserably, I’ll be gone. Just another skin-suit filled with decayed organs and rotten bones, roaming the planet with the others, bereft of life, a masticator of living flesh.

  The bite that I sustained from the adolescent, walking cadaver had caused my arm to go completely numb. A sticky sweat had broken out across my body and violent tremors surged through my limbs. “I have to save them,” I muttered in an uncontrolled, shaky voice.

  “We will save them,” Murder reassured me. He took me back to the storage area and explained the plan that he’d devised.

  ***

  Outside, the soldiers continued with their sadistic tortures, the women continuously screaming from fright and pain. The soldiers halted their ab
use, noticing a man hobbling into view from the side of a building. “He looks hurt,” said the skinny soldier to his comrade.

  “Easier for the pickin’,” the muscular soldier laughed. He raised his arm into the air, motioning a twirling gesture with his hand. The gunner on the turret recognized the signal. Spinning the gun, he awaited further direction.

  ***

  Clambering around the corner, I caught sight of the cadets. One of them was laughing. I felt like shit. The infection was spreading fast. I just hoped I had time to save my family before I turned.

  A soldier on the back of the Jeep spun a large machine gun in my direction. Expecting this, I continued walking toward them. All of the zombies were huddled around the two military vehicles, paying me no mind at the moment.

  I climbed up onto a nearby truck, stood, and faced the soldiers. “I’m here for my family!” I shouted, pissed-off. The soldiers laughed.

  Shannon and Amy, realizing who I was, began struggling and screaming for me to help. One of the soldiers back- handed Shannon violently across her face. From twenty feet away I heard the impact of the blow, sending a rush of fury through my body.

  CRACK! The skinny soldier’s head exploded, spraying brains and bone all around. CRACK! CRACK! The remaining soldier on top of the Humvee took a shot to the shoulder, then a shot to the head, obliterating it, showering Shannon with blood and gore. A piece of brain sailed through the air into Shannon’s mouth as she was screaming. She swallowed, gagged, then vomited painfully, expelling the bodily piece. The gunner leaped from the Jeep into the crowd of undead, attempting to escape the gunfire.

  Directly after the first shot rang out, I flew from the roof of the truck, hit the ground, tumbled, stood, and sprinted for the Hummer. “Stay there!” I yelled to Shannon.

  As I advanced on the Humvee, the soldier from the Jeep blindsided me, knocking me to the ground. The gunner leaped onto my chest, battering me with blows. “Die, motherfucker!” the gunner chanted, thrashing me.

  “Fuck you!” I screamed, grabbing the man’s arm and driving my face into his flesh, savagely wrenching a portion of meat free with my teeth. The man cried out in surprise and pain. I used all of my strength—which wasn’t much—and flung the man to the ground.

  Slowly, I clambered to my feet and kicked the gunner repeatedly. Screaming, the gunner’s bones shattered under my boot. Cracked, splintered ribs punctured the man’s skin. The zombies, attracted to the commotion, shuffled toward the injured, ululating man. I hurried, fleeing to where my wife and daughter waited, leaving the gunner to his horrible, inevitable fate.

  The undead enveloped the gunner, decayed hands ripping into his broken body. I could hear bones snapping as I fled. One of the zombies removed the man’s stomach, trying, maddeningly, to shove it into his gaping maw. The stomach, too large for the zombie’s mouth, popped like a balloon, raining liquids and half-digested pieces of food in all directions. The gunner watched, horror-stricken, as two undead fought over his slippery liver, shredding it to bits, spraying him with thick juices. A zombie woman, her breasts flopping about, one of them torn open displaying the yellowish meat within, descended onto the gunner’s face. The gunner, unfortunately still alive, howled as the woman gnawed into his cheek, severing chunky flesh and sinew; bloody teeth grinned through the ragged hole where the man’s jowl once was. The last thing the gunner saw was the undead woman ravenously chewing his lips like bubblegum.

  While the gunner was feeding the undead, I climbed to the roof of the Humvee. Briefly, I hugged my wife and daughter, then helped them down from the tall vehicle.

  Once on the ground we were greeted by three hungry ghouls. One by one the beasts’ heads exploded in a cloudburst of gore. I looked to Murder, perched atop the pawn shop, clearing a path for me and my family with his new rifle. We made it back to the store unscathed and Murder greeted us at the rear entryway.

  “Come on! Hurry! We need to barricade this place up quick!” Murder barked.

  Amy noticed on the floor the dead body of the balding man Murder had slaughtered earlier; a small, shocked yelp escaped her mouth.

  “It’s alright. He’s not gettin’ back up,” Murder assured her.

  We made our way through the building, barricading anything that could be used as an entrance for the undead, or anyone else for that matter. When finished, we retreated back to the storage area, barricading ourselves inside. Murder had put the corpse of the balding man back in the office.

  I sat huddled with my family in a corner of the room feeling terrible. Face gone completely white, blue lips, eyes bloodshot with black, puffy circles underneath, I already resembled walking death. The bite on my arm had begun to rot. Pus and coagulated blood oozed and bubbled from the damaged area, a rotten egg and death odor emitted from the wound.

  Shannon and Amy were devastated to learn what had happened to Andy, and that I would soon be a walking corpse.

  They retrieved some clothes from the main store area, made a crude bed and pillow for me, trying to make my last minutes as comfortable as possible.

  “I’m just glad that you two are alright,” I said, forcing a smile, brushing my daughter’s hair back.

  “What are we supposed to do without you, Ace? You can’t die! You can’t!” Shannon sobbed. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetie. You’ll be okay. Murder here is going to take you somewhere safe, away from this chaotic nightmare.”

  Not wanting to intrude, Murder stepped out of the storage area, into the office. He could still hear their conversation through the door.

  “Dad? DAD!” Amy hollered shaking her father. I opened my eyes and gave my daughter a weak smile.

  “Sorry, honey. I’m so tired…cold.” Amy grabbed some more clothing, covered me, trying to keep me warm, crying fiercely the entire time.

  “I love you both more than life. I’m going to go and be with Andy now,” I said in a weak, scratchy voice. “Go get Murder for me. Tell him I’m ready.”

  Shannon and Amy couldn’t move. They stared at their husband and father in disbelief. This couldn’t really be happening to them. My head collapsed onto my chest. My breath-ing grew faint, then, stopped all together. Everything went black. I died.

  “Ace?” Shannon said, choked with sobs. “Ace, wake up. Wake up dammit! You can’t leave us!”

  Amy was shedding her tears silently, when she noticed her father’s hand twitch. He’s dead, she thought, just my imagination. The hand twitched a second time. Oh Shit!

  “Mom MOVE!” Amy bellowed rushing for her mother just as Ace lunged forward, grasping Shannon by the hair. Reeling her in toward his infected mouth, Shannon felt his teeth brush her neck. Amy slammed into Shannon, sending them both sprawling across the floor. Ace stood, staring, slack jawed, at his family, seeing only meat.

  ***

  I heard Amy scream for her mother to move, instantly knowing Ace had turned. I cursed myself for leaving them alone with him. Smashing through the office door I came face to face with the monster that used to be Ace Harmann.

  Amy and Shannon were huddled behind a row of boxes, trying to avoid him. I yelled, “Get into that office now! Don’t come out until I say!”

  My former companion, swaying slightly, glared at me. “Come on, Ace. Let’s finish this,” I said, walking in his direction, my nine millimeter in hand. He shambled in my direction groaning, vomit and blood trickled from his mouth.

  I raised the handgun, sighting my target. Ace opened his mouth and let out a horrifying, blood curdling moan, then charged me at a quick pace. The freshly reanimated remain quick on their feet for about an hour after changing.

  BANG! The back of Ace’s head exploded creating a bloody mural on the wall behind him. He collapsed, lying still; truly dead.

  I located a sleeping bag and used it to cover the body, dragging him into the main store area and placing him between some shelving units. I stood over the body for a moment wishing it hadn’t ended this way. “Goodbye, Ace,” I said under my breath.r />
  I returned to the store room and opened the door to the office. Immediately Shannon rushed me, knocked me to the floor, landing on top of me. I smashed my clenched fist into her face. The blow didn’t faze her. Shannon growled, lunging for my throat.

  I caught her inches away from wrenching free my eso-phagus. She was strong. I pushed Shannon off of me sending her crashing into storage shelves, various items clattered to the floor.

  Just as I drew my pistol, Amy lunged, latching on to my back, causing me to drop my weapon. I stumbled, barely keeping my feet. Running backward, I slammed Amy into the nearby wall, trying to dislodge her. She held tight.

  Shannon was quickly hobbling in my direction.

  I drew my hunting knife, thrust it blindly behind me, hoping to connect with Amy’s skull.

  Shannon was nearly upon me.

  My blade connected with something hard, made a cracking sound, and then plunged into the soft tissue that had to be Amy’s brain. She fell limp on my back.

  Just as I stabbed my blade into Amy’s head, Shannon reached me, grasping my shoulders with eager hands. Her disease infested, death infected mouth descended rapidly, toward my chest.

  The hunting knife withdrew easily from Amy’s skull and rushed toward Shannon’s face. The blade thrust into her eye, spraying me with pus and other juices. She immediately dropped to the floor, lifeless.

  I pushed Amy from my back, turned and examined her body. She had been torn open at the abdomen. Her guts were all chewed and mottled, protruding from the gaping hole. “What the fuck happened?” I wondered aloud.

  I knelt and inspected Shannon’s corpse next. There was a small bite mark on her neck. Not much more than a scratch. Ace must have gotten her, I thought. The disease had spread and transformed Shannon quickly, due to the location of the bite. The closer a bite is to the brain, the quicker the transformation process. I thought about Amy trapped in the office, being torn to shreds by her own mother. The thought sent a chill down my spine.