It was little more than two days after they returned home that the rumors were full blown. Catten knew full well that their colossal failure had spread throughout the under realm. He and his brother avoided their kin as best they could, but they couldn’t hide forever. Master Sinway called them to his throne. He had been kneeling in silence ever since, every joint in his body aching. Only the use of his magic allowed him to maintain the uncomfortable position. A drop of sweat fell from his brow, the first one in days.
Catten tried to imagine what the underling master had in store for them next. Would he have to fight his brother to the death, be devoured by cave dogs, dropped in the caves of infernos, or skin flayed from his face and back for all to see? The punishment for failure was always extreme. A beating was little punishment if any at all, still his pulped face ached. If only his fool of a brother hadn’t been so careless and gotten stabbed, this all would have been over.
Ahead of him, Catten could feel the mighty presence of Master Sinway bearing down on his bowed head. The master of all underlings sat in robes blacker than night, on a large throne carved from rock and filled with scintillating metals and stones. Other than his brother, the three of them were all alone. Catten wanted to grovel, but not doing so was his best hope. All he could do was wait.
Master Sinway’s voice was soft and powerful, sending shivers into his core.
“Do you have another plan?”
“Yes,” said Catten.
Catten felt his body lifted up and hurled through the room in a rush of wind. He landed hard on the ground and as he looked up he saw a glimpse of his master on the throne as two towering metal doors slammed closed.
I’m alive! Catten couldn’t believe it. He looked over at his brother’s busted figure struggling to rise from the floor. Catten heard his brother chitter as he floated away.
“He must be getting soft.”
Catten couldn’t disagree more.
Note from the Author
The story you have just read is the first of many volumes. How many, I cannot say, I’m not putting a limit on it. I can tell you this. The Darkslayer Volume 2 will be released early in 2012. The Darkslayer Volume 3 is scheduled for release late summer 2012. The Darkslayer Volume 4 will begin summer 2012 as well. Look for updates at www.thedarkslayer.com
Also, in this eBook, and following the author section, I have included the first four chapters of my latest work, ZOMBIE DAY CARE. Check it out!
About the Author
Craig Halloran resides with his family outside of his hometown Charleston, West Virginia. When he isn’t writing stories he is seeking adventure, working out or watching sports. To learn more about him go to: www.thedarkslayer.com
Other works by the author
The Darkslayer, Volume Two
Zombie Day Care
Eight Maids of Milking
In the works by the author
The Darkslayer Volume Three
The Darkslayer, Volume Four
Zombie Rehab
The Blades
ZOMBIE DAY CARE
Chapter 1
He was shuffling over the hillside with a look of desperation on his face. Sweat glistened over his crumpled brow and his locks of curly brown hair were matted and coated with dirt. He looked over his shoulder, gasped and pushed forward. His elbows and knees were scraped, caked with dried blood, and his jeans and shirt were in tatters. He clutched his sides as he jogged into the bright sun lowering over the horizon. He could make out the black silhouette of small town miles ahead. I can do it.
He felt like he was in summer football practice, pushing himself to the limits, body quivering from exhaustion. This training was different. This time, if he stopped, he was dead. He didn’t like football practice, he hated it, and they all did. He could see the face of his hard case coach pushing him now, just like he did then, shouting at his back, ‘Move it whale tail!’
He was cumbersome teenager back then, stuck on the team’s interior line, which was pure agony. He was good at standing in people’s way, so he got the start. It didn’t hurt that he was big either, except today, being bigger was far from better. He would have done anything to be a little guy who could run like the wind. He ran the best he could, long heavy strides turning into a pathetic jog.
His big belly groaned with hunger and fear. He didn’t know how far he had run. He remembered his last meal though. Yesterday morning. It was fast food, Taco Shell and Fountain Dew, eight dollars’ worth. His concern subsided for a moment, but a loud moan far from behind him jolted his nerves. Fear gave his legs new strength. His feet ached and burned with each heavy step as he pushed on. He took a quick glance over his shoulder. Something was back there, trudging after him in the distance. He heard another moan.
The world had turned upside down. Zombies were real. They were taking over. It didn’t all start in some small town either. No, it was a meltdown in major cities. The outbreak spread like fire, New York to Beijing to Moscow. Zombies cropped up everywhere and flipped the world into turmoil. He, his friends and family, headed for the hills. The hills were alive. They all fought hard after the surprise. He watched his loved ones afflicted and devoured. They came for him, but he manned the higher ground. He blew their brains out, all of them except one. He ran out of ammo and made a dash for his car. He drove away until he ran out of gas, just a few miles from where he left.
He had dozed off, feeling safe and exhausted, in the middle of nowhere. He laid his head back just for a second, listening to the madness on the satellite radio. America has fallen! Russia has fallen! The Middle East has fallen! He fell asleep….
His eyes snapped open. A shuffle of dirt caught his ear. He wiped the drool from his mouth. The rearview mirror showed nothing. His heart raced. Something was out there. A flicker of movement caught his eye in the side view mirror. He jerked out of the way just as a hand clutched for his neck. He scrambled through the passenger side door and fell outside.
The zombie was there, moaning at him. It came around the hood of the car. He moved the opposite way. Now what? It wasn’t fast, but it just came steady for him, like a stubborn child. He thought of Duck-Duck Goose. Why did I think of that? Around and around they went. He was uncertain what to do. Just don’t let it catch you. His only option was to run into the town in the middle of nowhere. Maybe more zombies waited there, anywhere, everywhere…there was no choice.
He slipped around the driver’s side of his car, reached in the window and popped his trunk. He was faster than the zombie, that much was certain. He couldn’t run forever though. As it pursued him around the car, he circled back to the trunk and reached in. He fumbled around, eyes never leaving the creature. He found a handle and pulled it forth. A sense of security steadied his grip. He wielded a big wooden softball bat. It was a gift he bought for his girlfriend.
“This is strange,” he muttered.
He stepped around the car again and bashed in the back passenger window. Still the zombie came, quicker than before it seemed. He made another round to the smashed window, reached in and grabbed his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder. He hoped everything was in there. Be prepared.
He squeezed the handle in both hands. I gotta do this now! The zombie came as he back pedaled away.
“Please don’t make me do this. Just go away!” he said, waving the big bat.
Still it came, moaning. He looked at the bloody gash on its shoulder. A man-sized bite of flesh was gone as well as part of its dangling arm. The rest of the zombie was perfect. It was tall, full figured, dressed in a pro-football jersey and tight jean shorts. He blinked hard. He could see the painted nails that once scratched his back and belly. Black was her color. Now she came for him, unsteady, black-eyed and slack jawed. Blue veins rose along her once soft and sensual skin. He couldn’t believe he had to bash in the brains…of his girlfriend.
“No!” he screamed, hoisting the bat high in the air.
Still she came. He swore he could see a smile in her crossed mouth. Jea
nine always had a smirk. He blinked hard again. It was something he always remembered. Deep down inside he still loved her, or it. He was ready to propose, but the world began to end. Still she came, chin down, shuffling his way. He wanted to hug her. His instincts screamed to kill her. Everyone else he knew was dead. He couldn’t do it. He felt a lump in his throat rise as he let out a sob. I can’t.
As much as he hated to do it, he picked up his backpack and ran. He had been running ever since. Night was coming and the tiny town was getting closer. He tried to remember Jeanine the way she used to be, but could not. He was huffing along, fighting for breath as he tried to reach the town. He gave another look back and there she came, step after determined step. He could swear she was getting faster. She used to be was faster than him anyway. He never minded running behind her before, but now he had to stay ahead to stay alive. It was a discomforting memory for Nate McDaniel.
Chapter 2
Nate was walking as fast as he could, often looking back over his shoulder. His zombie girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. The sun was dipping into the dusk as he made his way into the town. Pear trees and flower beds were planted along the streets. There were no stop lights, just signs. The polluted sounds of human interaction were vacant. He followed the railroad tracks across a rusting iron bridge as a wide stream of water flowed underneath. He was cautious. Zombies could be anywhere. He hoped there were none.
He cupped his hands to his mouth, and he lowered them. Maybe yelling wasn’t such a good idea. Nate didn’t want to alert the unknown. He knew better. He was starving now and his stomach hadn’t stopped growling for miles. He was exhausted. He never remembered being so tired. His feet were aching and burning like fire. He had to find food. There had to be something left in this town. As he finished crossing the bridge he looked back again. Nothing was there. He saw a black bird perched on a power line above, then something snapped and he lurched forward.
“Damn!” he shouted.
Pain shot through his knee, down to his shin. His leg was wedged between two rotted railroad ties. His jeans and skin were torn just below the kneecap. He was bleeding and held fast.
He tried pulling his hurting knee up.
“Ugh!”
It didn’t help he was over two-hundred and fifty pounds. He was dead weight and the effort jammed his leg further down.
“No—No—No! Lord no!”
He closed his eyes and took a breath. The lowering sun went dark as a cloud passed. He felt the shade on his face. Somewhere a crow squawked and flapped away. He opened his eyes and looked back. He watched the black bird dart over the head of a figure. It was her. Already! She was coming his way. His chin dipped into his chest.
“Come on Jeanine!” he yelled, knocking his bat into the bridge.
His heart was sinking. He was stuck and she was going to eat him. His stomach coiled into a knot. His will to survive was not the strongest, but his desire to not be eaten alive was something else. Deep inside, fear consumed him. He pushed on the rotting boards. They groaned under the desperate power of his supple muscles. He strained in agony as she approached step by step, stumbling over the rotting ties.
Fall! Fall off the bridge
She came on, unfettered by her missteps, crossing the bridge only a dozen paces away.
How does she move so fast?
Nate couldn’t comprehend how the slow going figure stayed on his heels like a bloodhound. He thought of the stories of the tortoise and the hare. He used to love that story.
He ripped his leg free with a scream. A torn slab of flesh and jeans was hanging down his leg. Thick splinters were burning deep under his skin. He saw muscle, or was it. Don’t look idiot! Tears watered down his paunchy face as he struggled to his feet. He saw a necklace hanging from her neck. He bought her that on her birthday…a gold crucifix. Why couldn’t she be a vampire? She was almost to him. He ran on, in a desperate limp, despite the pain building inside leg.
He needed a car, a truck, anything with wheels. A bike! He was parched. His body was already pushed beyond his limits. All of those tennis lessons never prepared him for this. Did anything? He looked down at his knee. His blue jeans were soaked, a dark patch of material was sticking to his leg, and his shoe was bloody. His body became weak at the sight of all the blood. It’s why medical school was never an option.
The sign of a small convenience store was in the distance. He forced himself forward. It seemed to take forever. He looked back and she wasn’t there. He kept moving, holding his stomach. He felt so sick. He made it to the glass doors and tugged on the handle. It was locked.
“No!” he cried.
He pulled again and again, looking for someone inside. The shelves were half full, but there were no signs of people. He surveyed the parking lot, and leaned back on the door. He fell inside the doors with a thud. As he looked up in bewilderment he noticed the words on the door, PUSH and PULL. A smile crossed his haggard face. He shoved the door closed and looked for a latch.
“Come on,” he mumbled, “Come on!”
It was a key only lock. He now realized he couldn’t lock himself inside. He looked by the register for the key. He checked the counter. Nothing.
He pounded on the counter as he shouted, “Damn! Damn! Damn!”
He knew she would be there any second. What now? He tried something new. He busted open the register with the ball bat.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
He jerked open the drawer and a key lay in one of the change bins. He snatched it in his bloody fingers and limped over to the door. There she was, passing the gas pumps. Almost here! He stuck the key in the lock, but it didn’t fit. The key slipped in his fingers as he fumbled it to the ground.
“Shit!”
He grabbed it and tried sticking it back in the keyhole. It didn’t fit. No! He turned the key over and slipped it inside. Something slammed into the door. She was pushing from the other side of the glass, moaning at him. He shoved back, wedging his foot against a store shelf. He turned the lock, but it wasn’t flush. She was pushing him back inside. She was stronger than a man.
“No!” he screamed. He lowered his shoulder and knocked the door hard, shuffling her backwards.
Clatch!
He got it. “Thank God!”
He slunk down on the glass doors with a gasp of relief. He couldn’t move. His leg was throbbing, and he didn’t have the strength to stand. His breathing was loud and he could feel sweat dripping off his nose.
Wham!
Her fist busted into the glass leaving a spider web mark. He rolled away, eyes wide. How much energy did he have left?
I can’t do this. “Go away!” he screamed.
“Go away!”
Chapter 3
Nate tore his jeans off, just below the knee. The bloody gash made him sick as he spit up bile. He rummaged over the shelves, found some gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape. He closed his eyes as he placed the loose flap of skin back over his shin and knee. His eyes watered as he sprayed on the antiseptic, he pounded at the floor, biting his lip. He wrapped it with gauze and taped it off. He peered at the door as Jeanine pounded and moaned on the other side of the glass. The whole building seemed to shake with every blow.
His bloody hands wrapped an ace bandage he found around his knee. The blood no longer soaked his bandages, but he still felt ill. He ripped the top off a bottle of ibuprofen and limped over to the glass cooler doors. He found a twenty ounce bottle of Fountain Dew and pulled it out. He twisted off the yellow cap and read the inside.
“Better luck next time,” he said as he flicked it away.
He took a handful of pills and washed them down with the green liquid. It was luke warm, still he sucked the entire bottle down like ice water. It was delicious all the same and his stomach churned again. I’d do anything for a burrito. He tore into a box of snack cakes, washing them down with another bottle of the soft drink. He looked over at Jeanine, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, watching her continue to claw at the door. I have
to be dreaming. I can’t believe I was gonna marry that.
The sky was turning black as the sun dipped and blanket of grey clouds began to roll in. He heard the soothing sound of raindrops landing on the metal roof above.
“Now it starts to rain,” he said, as he sat down in front of the fountain drink machines across from the entrance door.
He sipped on his bottle watching her hands bang and scratch at the doors. Her breasts jiggled underneath the black and gold jersey, and he thought of all the blissful mornings with her. I’m sick. She’s getting ready to eat me and I can only think about her tits. Her face was a maul of horror. Her hair seemed to be drying out. Blue veins began to swell under her tanned skin. Nate wanted to pinch himself, but the effort wasn’t in him.
Nate closed his eyes and tried to remember Jeanine from back when. They had been together for years, and she wasn’t something he deserved. She had been a good person, but he had been the bad. Not bad in the good sense, but rather bad in the pathetic, character lacking, me first sense. He was spoiled and brainy, a bit of a slob who ate too much, played video games, collected comics, and watched too many movies. What a winner. But he also had a golden tongue that tickled a woman’s ear with all those words they liked to hear: I want you. I need you. I love you. They never meant a thing to him, until he met her. Jeanine was different.
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